Fic: It's In Our Blood - (Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam) Chapter Fourteen.
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 Fourteen:
He watched her walk into the bar, easily circulating around the few people that were standing by the door to smoke. A few of them watched her go inside, and Dean was left with the decision to either find Sam and take him out of there, or to follow her in and try to protect her. Cas would want him to leave. He would have phoned him if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a dead zone.
The only thing Dean could think of was that she was walking into a death trap. He’d spilled the beans. Whether that was a good decision or not, it was over with, and the only thing left to do was follow her in there in case there was an attack. Or until he had a beer in him to contemplate the next move.
The bar that she was headed in was exactly the kind of place that he’d go into. They were his kind of people, which she so gratefully pointed out. As he walked through the doors ignoring the stares of individuals who saw their argument, he briefly let the thought cross his mind that she’d probably be better off without his help. That he really should book the hell out of there, and summarize whatever the hell this was as dead in the water.
But he was selfish.
Or maybe he was a masochist.
The second one seemed more and more accurate the longer he stayed in that bar. She was severely overdressed for the occasion, catching every straight male’s eyes. She spotted him the second he walked in the door, giving him a bone chilling glare. He was going to talk to her.
…Eventually.
He just needed liquid courage. Hell, really… all he needed was to be in view of her. Just to make sure she was alright.
That was his mindset until a man came up to her, kissed her on the cheek, and gave her a bear hug that she returned. She smiled wide, and Dean wanted to give away his right arm for that smile. That was the smile he was robbed of. That’s the smile he imagined her waking up to after their night of the best sex he’d ever had.
The bitch was gonna try to make him jealous. He knew that look, probably a bit too well. Dean let her have her moment of glory as he let her know by a simple nod that he saw her. She smiled warmly at the man, then grabbed his arm and led them to a booth. She took a sip of her drink on the way. After they sat down, Dean tried to remind himself why he even cared anymore. Damn that woman.
At the bar, he ordered a lineup of four shots and a beer. He’d noticed that the lady bartending was married, so he didn’t bother to hit on her. Sure, he wanted to play the game of who could make who more jealous, but she’d win. He took all the shots in a row, slamming them on the table and enjoying the pleasant burn that foreshadowed inevitability. He grabbed his phone from his pocket for the third time that night and tried to acquire a signal, but failed. He needed to find Sam and assess the situation.
He needed a phone that worked, really. The bar had a landline, but when he thought about it, Sam didn’t have signal either. The whole town was a dead zone. Those were things that he needed. What he wanted was to drink a bit more, wallow a bit in self-pity mixed with jealousy and anger. Then he wanted a strip joint.
A few hours later, Buffy was still in his sights, albeit a little blurrier. She’d had a few to drink, too. The man who was with her must have owned the bar, or worked there. When they were out of drinks, he’d walk behind the bar and just grabbed a few more. Buffy had danced, but always returned back to the booth where the man was smiling at her.
What a douchebag.
The bar was small, but it was entirely too big for Dean’s liking. He had moved to the opposite side because after the first time she’d gotten up to dance, it took too much will power not to approach her and drag her out of the bar by her elbow. The stupid bar was inhibited by mostly men with an age range from early twenties to what looked like sixties. It played classic rock music out of an old fashioned juke box, and the scene allowed too many people in it to stare at the exact same person he was staring at. She didn’t fit in a place like this one; she was far too beautiful. No wonder they all stared at her, she was probably the best looking woman they’d seen in years.
Oh, if they’d only knew.
Those thoughts haunted him for at least two hours as the familiar sounds and smells of the bar gave him a temporary solace. The bar was the perfect setting for Dean Winchester, which meant it was dangerous.
As the bar got busier, Dean’s suspicions were confirmed. The man gave Buffy a hug and moved to help the woman serve. That’s when Buffy followed him to the edge of the bar, leaned her fit body over the counter, and grabbed the house telephone. She wasn’t on it for very long before hanging up and pulling her ass off the hard wood. He couldn’t tell if this was a ploy to get him to look at her like that, or if she was ignorant of the way she made him react to her. All she did was lean over the bar. What the hell had she done to him?
She tossed a set of keys at the man she’d been with, and waved good night. He assumed they were the keys to the truck. Buffy walked out the back door with a single glance at Dean, a look no softer than when she first saw him that night.
Dean stood up, and threw entirely too much money on the bar. Where ever she was going, she wasn’t going to drive. That meant that either he was going to drive her, she was walking, or …Well, whatever the reason was, he was going to have another chance to try to talk to her. He had a bit more liquid bravery and time to stew about what he wanted to say to her. He knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to follow her directly, for the exit she went out of was a door behind the bar. He maneuvered around the crowd of people, walked out the front door and turned the corner that led to the back of the bar. He heard a loud crash, the sound of metal hitting something hard and dense. It was in the direction of the back door.
He ran.
Forward To: Chapter Fifteen!
Backward to:
Chapter Thirteen.
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 Fourteen:
He watched her walk into the bar, easily circulating around the few people that were standing by the door to smoke. A few of them watched her go inside, and Dean was left with the decision to either find Sam and take him out of there, or to follow her in and try to protect her. Cas would want him to leave. He would have phoned him if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a dead zone.
The only thing Dean could think of was that she was walking into a death trap. He’d spilled the beans. Whether that was a good decision or not, it was over with, and the only thing left to do was follow her in there in case there was an attack. Or until he had a beer in him to contemplate the next move.
The bar that she was headed in was exactly the kind of place that he’d go into. They were his kind of people, which she so gratefully pointed out. As he walked through the doors ignoring the stares of individuals who saw their argument, he briefly let the thought cross his mind that she’d probably be better off without his help. That he really should book the hell out of there, and summarize whatever the hell this was as dead in the water.
But he was selfish.
Or maybe he was a masochist.
The second one seemed more and more accurate the longer he stayed in that bar. She was severely overdressed for the occasion, catching every straight male’s eyes. She spotted him the second he walked in the door, giving him a bone chilling glare. He was going to talk to her.
…Eventually.
He just needed liquid courage. Hell, really… all he needed was to be in view of her. Just to make sure she was alright.
That was his mindset until a man came up to her, kissed her on the cheek, and gave her a bear hug that she returned. She smiled wide, and Dean wanted to give away his right arm for that smile. That was the smile he was robbed of. That’s the smile he imagined her waking up to after their night of the best sex he’d ever had.
The bitch was gonna try to make him jealous. He knew that look, probably a bit too well. Dean let her have her moment of glory as he let her know by a simple nod that he saw her. She smiled warmly at the man, then grabbed his arm and led them to a booth. She took a sip of her drink on the way. After they sat down, Dean tried to remind himself why he even cared anymore. Damn that woman.
At the bar, he ordered a lineup of four shots and a beer. He’d noticed that the lady bartending was married, so he didn’t bother to hit on her. Sure, he wanted to play the game of who could make who more jealous, but she’d win. He took all the shots in a row, slamming them on the table and enjoying the pleasant burn that foreshadowed inevitability. He grabbed his phone from his pocket for the third time that night and tried to acquire a signal, but failed. He needed to find Sam and assess the situation.
He needed a phone that worked, really. The bar had a landline, but when he thought about it, Sam didn’t have signal either. The whole town was a dead zone. Those were things that he needed. What he wanted was to drink a bit more, wallow a bit in self-pity mixed with jealousy and anger. Then he wanted a strip joint.
A few hours later, Buffy was still in his sights, albeit a little blurrier. She’d had a few to drink, too. The man who was with her must have owned the bar, or worked there. When they were out of drinks, he’d walk behind the bar and just grabbed a few more. Buffy had danced, but always returned back to the booth where the man was smiling at her.
What a douchebag.
The bar was small, but it was entirely too big for Dean’s liking. He had moved to the opposite side because after the first time she’d gotten up to dance, it took too much will power not to approach her and drag her out of the bar by her elbow. The stupid bar was inhibited by mostly men with an age range from early twenties to what looked like sixties. It played classic rock music out of an old fashioned juke box, and the scene allowed too many people in it to stare at the exact same person he was staring at. She didn’t fit in a place like this one; she was far too beautiful. No wonder they all stared at her, she was probably the best looking woman they’d seen in years.
Oh, if they’d only knew.
Those thoughts haunted him for at least two hours as the familiar sounds and smells of the bar gave him a temporary solace. The bar was the perfect setting for Dean Winchester, which meant it was dangerous.
As the bar got busier, Dean’s suspicions were confirmed. The man gave Buffy a hug and moved to help the woman serve. That’s when Buffy followed him to the edge of the bar, leaned her fit body over the counter, and grabbed the house telephone. She wasn’t on it for very long before hanging up and pulling her ass off the hard wood. He couldn’t tell if this was a ploy to get him to look at her like that, or if she was ignorant of the way she made him react to her. All she did was lean over the bar. What the hell had she done to him?
She tossed a set of keys at the man she’d been with, and waved good night. He assumed they were the keys to the truck. Buffy walked out the back door with a single glance at Dean, a look no softer than when she first saw him that night.
Dean stood up, and threw entirely too much money on the bar. Where ever she was going, she wasn’t going to drive. That meant that either he was going to drive her, she was walking, or …Well, whatever the reason was, he was going to have another chance to try to talk to her. He had a bit more liquid bravery and time to stew about what he wanted to say to her. He knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to follow her directly, for the exit she went out of was a door behind the bar. He maneuvered around the crowd of people, walked out the front door and turned the corner that led to the back of the bar. He heard a loud crash, the sound of metal hitting something hard and dense. It was in the direction of the back door.
He ran.
Forward To: Chapter Fifteen!
Backward to:
Chapter Thirteen.
Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Ten.
Chapter Nine.
Chapter Eight.
Chapter Seven.
Chapter Six.
Chapter Five.
Chapter Four.
Chapter Three.
Chapter Two.
Chapter One.