Fic: It's In Our Blood - (Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam) Chapter Thirteen.
Title: It's In Our Blood
Author(s): angelbuffy
Artist: Skylar0Grace
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy is the property of Joss Whedon, Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. If those two wrote together it'd be a beautiful thing. But they haven't, so you have me.
Type: (Gen, Het, or Slash) Het
Word Count: 34,934
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam
Warnings: Sex. Violence. Language. All the awesome stuff.
Spoilers: None. Unless you haven't seen Buffy. Or Supernatural. Season six exempt.
Chapter Thirteen:
The deaths that were broadcasted throughout the net were similar to the ones that had been in Utah. There were two sites complete with two drownings all within a few days. One of the sites was at a bar on one side of town, and the other was a construction zone on the other; both women, both in their teens. Dean was in charge of the bar.
He’d pulled up to the parking lot that was nothing more than a slab of gravel and badly parked vehicles. It seemed to be a popular enough bar, the outside looking like an old fashioned ranch styled home. It reminded him of the Road House. There were a lot of people outside; mostly smokers, but others tailgating, keeping a clique of small groups huddled around chosen vehicles.
Then he saw her.
It had to be her. The long blonde hair was just as he’d remembered. She’d gotten out of a vehicle - an old Chevy pickup truck far too big for her to be driving. It had rust in more places than it had paint, but he could see that the color used to be white. The spots of color mixed with the lighting in the parking lot turned it an old cream color. She had to practically hop to get out of it, and it wasn’t until she started walking away and toward the bar did he recognize her.
He’d identify her walk anywhere. It was blanketed with confidence and determination no matter what she was doing. He’d recognize that ass from anywhere, too. He stared at it for three weeks straight, and the way her hair moved with her body was almost angelic. She was wearing skin tight jeans, a pair of heels, and a backless clubbing shirt that had a jewel paralleling her spine that’d connected at the neck. She stood out, walking awkwardly on the gravel that her shoes weren’t made for. It took him no time to get out of his car, not bothering with the locks.
He knew that it was her. The excitement in him overcame his curiosity and the inevitable pain that would follow as he caught up to her. Suddenly he didn’t even care about the lies he told himself.
Of course he wanted to see her again.
It all changed quite quickly when he was less than fifty feet from her. He wanted to talk to her.
“…Buffy.”
He was about five feet behind her when he bit the bullet and spoke. She froze mid step, her back turning rigid as she turned around. She’d had a smile on her face that transformed almost immediately into shock before resentment.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Her tone mirrored her expression.
“Hey to you, too.” All he could do was laugh awkwardly. What did he expect, anyway? A warm welcome? In fact, that tone was far less than he deserved, and he knew it.
She didn’t change her countenance with the attempt at quelling the rising animosity in her. For some reason he knew it wouldn’t work anyway. She didn’t say a word; she was still waiting for his answer.
“Probably the same reason you’re here.”
“Wrong. Try again.” That response threw him for a hoop.
“…What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first, jackass.”
“A job.”
She laughed then turned around to walk away. “Go hom- ugh. Wherever that isn’t in this town, Dean. In fact, you should take the west coast.”
“Fine. I will. After I take care of this job, I’ll gladly get out of your hair, your holiness. I don’t even know why I’m freakin’ savin’ your ass.”
“…Excuse me?” She turned back around, and he ran his hands over his face. Why the hell was she here? He’d let it slip. Not only that, but the thoughts of what Cas had said started rising in his system. Now he was paranoid as hell.
~~
“So they need our blood.”
“It is more than that, Dean. With enough blood, your blood mixed, it’s possible to consume your souls.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that there is nothing left. Your existence is eliminated from any life, including afterlife. It’s painful; a punishment that is worse than hell.”
~~
“There’s something that’s after you. Actually, us,” The initial shock that hit her eyes left her motionless for a few seconds before she snapped herself back. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, before she grabbed his wrist and dragged him a few feet toward the woods at the end of the parking lot. He had to tell her.
What choice was there?
As they made it to a more desolate spot where people wouldn’t hear the conversation, she let him go and took a step back. His wrist had a dull burning feeling to it. Her action told him that she was at least willing to listen to him, and since she was here with him, he made the executive decision.
“Look, they’re demons from what my …..source tells me. It’s somethin’ about our blood together. We’re freaks, remember? You and I are in the most wanted category for blood donors. We’ve got the good stuff.”
It was like she wasn’t listening at all. Her voice spoke of boredom and irritation. “So.. you’re telling me something’s possibly going to come after me.”
“Jesus, Buffy, I’m being serious.”
“Yeah, and so am I. Telling me that someone’s after me is kind of like telling me that there’s water in the ocean. Thanks for the info, Dean. I’ve got it from here.”
“These are demons. You’re underestimating them.”
“I’m a slayer. They’re underestimating me.”
“How the christ have you survived this long?”
She jutted out her bottom lip. “Don’t know, Dean. Probably for the same reason you’re not rotting in a grave.”
“Look, wouldja stop being an idiot and listen to me?”
“You’ve told me enough.”
“They’re dangerous, they’re smart, and they’re getting together to take you down. Your soul is vulnerable, and powerful.”
She was impatient, still unimpressed. “Is that all?” Her body was already half turned away from him, and now, she was looking at the people around her. This girl was the slayer, but she was also frigging immature, such that he refused to even give her an answer.
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned on her heel and headed back in toward the bar that he caught her heading toward, the ornament on her back swaying with her hips. He caught up fast, grabbing her arm. The reaction time of such a powerful creature reminded him of his place. As soon as she felt a hand grab her elbow, she spun around fast enough to where he lost his grip on her arm.
“Don’t touch me.” It was a simple warning.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m done talking.”
“I’m not.” He kept his arm off her, as requested. Mostly because he knew how much they weren’t going to get anywhere if he did. Or how much he was going to be hurting, and likely thrown on the other side of the street. It was more of the latter. He liked his family jewels where they were.
“Why are you goin’ back in there, anyway? It’s not your kinda place.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “It is none of your business. You sure as hell don’t know me.”
“I know enough about you to know that you don’t go into places like this without a reason.”
“Enough about me?” She pushed him in the chest, causing him to falter back. He almost fell flat on his ass from the force alone, but was able to steady himself.
“You don’t know me, Dean. You know nothing about me. Oh, but I know you. You don’t like change, and have some kind of a macho complex. You carry big guns, got an attitude something resembling a child, and you think you and your car can outrun anything. You kill demons because something forced you into the business, you freak out when you think you’re confined or when you realize someone’s figured you out. You’re positively convinced that you’re always right and that your decisions should be treated like gospel. Getting close to the nail?”
He didn’t want that to sting as much as it did, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction that it did. His lack of words gave him away. Alright, so her being pissed was probably an understatement. Those same eyes he’d remembered so well for a month without seeing were hard and cold, so different from when she was writhing under him. He saw the flash of guilt move through her face before she washed it away. She waited for an answer from him, one that he didn’t want to give. He decided to give her the same coldness that she was giving him. Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to speak louder than a casual conversation warranted.
She didn’t give him the chance to utter a syllable.
She pulled a one-eighty and started walking toward the bar. He started following her before she caught on. He found himself staring in her eyes once again. She didn’t waiver as he stood about two inches from her. It was a completely different manner than the last time they’d faced off. This one was filled with anger. Her eyes showed hurt. It was dominated by her anger, but he could see it enough that it made him take a step back from her. He found himself trying not to depict her face when she’d realized he’d left the motel. It was in vain. More than anything, at that moment, he regretted touching her. It was one more slice of proof that he was like the Midas touch. Everything he touched either got hurt or killed.
Her words snapped him away from her mesmerizing eyes to focus on her mocking smile. She whispered, clearly aware of the followers they had attained.
“I find it really ironic that now you want to chat like we’re friends. Let me tell you something, Dean. In case you missed it: You lost all rights of being my friend when you left me in your motel room like some whore.” With that, she turned around for the last time shoving her way through the bystanders.
He didn’t have a single word left to say.
Forward to: Chapter Fourteen.
Backward to:
Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Ten.
Chapter Nine.
Chapter Eight.
Chapter Seven.
Chapter Six.
Chapter Five.
Chapter Four.
Chapter Three.
Chapter Two.
Chapter One.
Author(s): angelbuffy
Artist: Skylar0Grace
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy is the property of Joss Whedon, Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. If those two wrote together it'd be a beautiful thing. But they haven't, so you have me.
Type: (Gen, Het, or Slash) Het
Word Count: 34,934
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam
Warnings: Sex. Violence. Language. All the awesome stuff.
Spoilers: None. Unless you haven't seen Buffy. Or Supernatural. Season six exempt.
Chapter Thirteen:
The deaths that were broadcasted throughout the net were similar to the ones that had been in Utah. There were two sites complete with two drownings all within a few days. One of the sites was at a bar on one side of town, and the other was a construction zone on the other; both women, both in their teens. Dean was in charge of the bar.
He’d pulled up to the parking lot that was nothing more than a slab of gravel and badly parked vehicles. It seemed to be a popular enough bar, the outside looking like an old fashioned ranch styled home. It reminded him of the Road House. There were a lot of people outside; mostly smokers, but others tailgating, keeping a clique of small groups huddled around chosen vehicles.
Then he saw her.
It had to be her. The long blonde hair was just as he’d remembered. She’d gotten out of a vehicle - an old Chevy pickup truck far too big for her to be driving. It had rust in more places than it had paint, but he could see that the color used to be white. The spots of color mixed with the lighting in the parking lot turned it an old cream color. She had to practically hop to get out of it, and it wasn’t until she started walking away and toward the bar did he recognize her.
He’d identify her walk anywhere. It was blanketed with confidence and determination no matter what she was doing. He’d recognize that ass from anywhere, too. He stared at it for three weeks straight, and the way her hair moved with her body was almost angelic. She was wearing skin tight jeans, a pair of heels, and a backless clubbing shirt that had a jewel paralleling her spine that’d connected at the neck. She stood out, walking awkwardly on the gravel that her shoes weren’t made for. It took him no time to get out of his car, not bothering with the locks.
He knew that it was her. The excitement in him overcame his curiosity and the inevitable pain that would follow as he caught up to her. Suddenly he didn’t even care about the lies he told himself.
Of course he wanted to see her again.
It all changed quite quickly when he was less than fifty feet from her. He wanted to talk to her.
“…Buffy.”
He was about five feet behind her when he bit the bullet and spoke. She froze mid step, her back turning rigid as she turned around. She’d had a smile on her face that transformed almost immediately into shock before resentment.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Her tone mirrored her expression.
“Hey to you, too.” All he could do was laugh awkwardly. What did he expect, anyway? A warm welcome? In fact, that tone was far less than he deserved, and he knew it.
She didn’t change her countenance with the attempt at quelling the rising animosity in her. For some reason he knew it wouldn’t work anyway. She didn’t say a word; she was still waiting for his answer.
“Probably the same reason you’re here.”
“Wrong. Try again.” That response threw him for a hoop.
“…What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first, jackass.”
“A job.”
She laughed then turned around to walk away. “Go hom- ugh. Wherever that isn’t in this town, Dean. In fact, you should take the west coast.”
“Fine. I will. After I take care of this job, I’ll gladly get out of your hair, your holiness. I don’t even know why I’m freakin’ savin’ your ass.”
“…Excuse me?” She turned back around, and he ran his hands over his face. Why the hell was she here? He’d let it slip. Not only that, but the thoughts of what Cas had said started rising in his system. Now he was paranoid as hell.
~~
“So they need our blood.”
“It is more than that, Dean. With enough blood, your blood mixed, it’s possible to consume your souls.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that there is nothing left. Your existence is eliminated from any life, including afterlife. It’s painful; a punishment that is worse than hell.”
~~
“There’s something that’s after you. Actually, us,” The initial shock that hit her eyes left her motionless for a few seconds before she snapped herself back. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, before she grabbed his wrist and dragged him a few feet toward the woods at the end of the parking lot. He had to tell her.
What choice was there?
As they made it to a more desolate spot where people wouldn’t hear the conversation, she let him go and took a step back. His wrist had a dull burning feeling to it. Her action told him that she was at least willing to listen to him, and since she was here with him, he made the executive decision.
“Look, they’re demons from what my …..source tells me. It’s somethin’ about our blood together. We’re freaks, remember? You and I are in the most wanted category for blood donors. We’ve got the good stuff.”
It was like she wasn’t listening at all. Her voice spoke of boredom and irritation. “So.. you’re telling me something’s possibly going to come after me.”
“Jesus, Buffy, I’m being serious.”
“Yeah, and so am I. Telling me that someone’s after me is kind of like telling me that there’s water in the ocean. Thanks for the info, Dean. I’ve got it from here.”
“These are demons. You’re underestimating them.”
“I’m a slayer. They’re underestimating me.”
“How the christ have you survived this long?”
She jutted out her bottom lip. “Don’t know, Dean. Probably for the same reason you’re not rotting in a grave.”
“Look, wouldja stop being an idiot and listen to me?”
“You’ve told me enough.”
“They’re dangerous, they’re smart, and they’re getting together to take you down. Your soul is vulnerable, and powerful.”
She was impatient, still unimpressed. “Is that all?” Her body was already half turned away from him, and now, she was looking at the people around her. This girl was the slayer, but she was also frigging immature, such that he refused to even give her an answer.
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned on her heel and headed back in toward the bar that he caught her heading toward, the ornament on her back swaying with her hips. He caught up fast, grabbing her arm. The reaction time of such a powerful creature reminded him of his place. As soon as she felt a hand grab her elbow, she spun around fast enough to where he lost his grip on her arm.
“Don’t touch me.” It was a simple warning.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m done talking.”
“I’m not.” He kept his arm off her, as requested. Mostly because he knew how much they weren’t going to get anywhere if he did. Or how much he was going to be hurting, and likely thrown on the other side of the street. It was more of the latter. He liked his family jewels where they were.
“Why are you goin’ back in there, anyway? It’s not your kinda place.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “It is none of your business. You sure as hell don’t know me.”
“I know enough about you to know that you don’t go into places like this without a reason.”
“Enough about me?” She pushed him in the chest, causing him to falter back. He almost fell flat on his ass from the force alone, but was able to steady himself.
“You don’t know me, Dean. You know nothing about me. Oh, but I know you. You don’t like change, and have some kind of a macho complex. You carry big guns, got an attitude something resembling a child, and you think you and your car can outrun anything. You kill demons because something forced you into the business, you freak out when you think you’re confined or when you realize someone’s figured you out. You’re positively convinced that you’re always right and that your decisions should be treated like gospel. Getting close to the nail?”
He didn’t want that to sting as much as it did, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction that it did. His lack of words gave him away. Alright, so her being pissed was probably an understatement. Those same eyes he’d remembered so well for a month without seeing were hard and cold, so different from when she was writhing under him. He saw the flash of guilt move through her face before she washed it away. She waited for an answer from him, one that he didn’t want to give. He decided to give her the same coldness that she was giving him. Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to speak louder than a casual conversation warranted.
She didn’t give him the chance to utter a syllable.
She pulled a one-eighty and started walking toward the bar. He started following her before she caught on. He found himself staring in her eyes once again. She didn’t waiver as he stood about two inches from her. It was a completely different manner than the last time they’d faced off. This one was filled with anger. Her eyes showed hurt. It was dominated by her anger, but he could see it enough that it made him take a step back from her. He found himself trying not to depict her face when she’d realized he’d left the motel. It was in vain. More than anything, at that moment, he regretted touching her. It was one more slice of proof that he was like the Midas touch. Everything he touched either got hurt or killed.
Her words snapped him away from her mesmerizing eyes to focus on her mocking smile. She whispered, clearly aware of the followers they had attained.
“I find it really ironic that now you want to chat like we’re friends. Let me tell you something, Dean. In case you missed it: You lost all rights of being my friend when you left me in your motel room like some whore.” With that, she turned around for the last time shoving her way through the bystanders.
He didn’t have a single word left to say.
Forward to: Chapter Fourteen.
Backward to:
Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Ten.
Chapter Nine.
Chapter Eight.
Chapter Seven.
Chapter Six.
Chapter Five.
Chapter Four.
Chapter Three.
Chapter Two.
Chapter One.