Fic: It's In Our Blood - (Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam) Chapter Sixteen.
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 Sixteen:
“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” The disgruntled voice was loud and deep. It was male and wheezy, a product of smoking too much tobacco. The sound was muted a little bit, and as Dean stirred, and opened his eyes, his thoughts were confirmed. He was tied to a large wooden beam, telling him he was in the cellar, and that the bastards that cracked his skull were above him. His entire body hurt, and when he tried to move his arms to see how tight the rope was, he couldn’t help but almost yell in pain as he felt his muscles contract. He was tightly bound, and his shoulder hurt like a bitch.
Someone had experience in tying knots.
He couldn’t move at all, part of that summing up the car crash and the concussion. The dried blood on the side of his face told him he’d been out for a while, but the headache told him it wasn’t long enough.
“Buffy?” He whispered it in a pained voice, the pain from his wounds too overpowering.
Nothing. It was pitch black, and the cement was freezing under him.
“We need them both awake for the ritual, you idiot. We need her at full strength.”
Dean tried to move a little bit more, trying desperately to loosen the binds. These people were smart. He was tied at the elbows, too. There was no way he was getting out. A good minute went by before he found himself slowly adjusting to the light. He scanned the room, finally seeing objects that had been blurred with the darkness.
He could see her.
It was her hair that had caught his attention first. She was tied to the other post, her head bent over, body slack. He called her name a few more times, and used the sudden burst of energy he had to work at the rope. She wasn’t responding. He couldn’t tell if she was even breathing.
The conversation continued upstairs, but Dean’s attention was on making sure Buffy was okay. He’d deal with the tornado of shit they were in once he learned that there was still a ‘they.’
He cursed as the binds burned his wrists with every movement he made.
He finally heard an injured moan come out of her mouth.
“Hey, Buffy, you hear me?”
She was moving her head to his voice.
“C’mon girl, answer me.”
“I hear you.”
“Thank God. Can you move?”
“Yeah,” She sucked in a hissed breath. “…No. I’m tied up. You? Are you okay?”
“Same. Goddammit.”
“How long…” She hissed again. “have we been here?”
“My guess by the dried blood and the damn kink in my neck.. at least an hour. Maybe two. Hell, I don’t friggin’ know. I thought I lost ya back there.”
“Well, they need us both, right? Isn’t that what you said? So… you can’t get rid of me that easily? ..Or is that too soon?” She was straining, against the binds just as he was.
“As long as you’re talkin’, I don’t really give a damn what you say. Hell, tell me you hate me, I’m sure you can find enough words for that subject.” It was the truth. At that point, as long as she was speaking, he didn’t give a damn about what was coming out of it, even if he preferred something that didn’t have to do with him leaving her in a motel bed. Or what he’d thought about the time after.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Ha.”
She sighed, still straining, but exasperated. “I knew what I was getting into when I kissed you, Dean. It’s not - dammit I’m tied tight.” She took a few more seconds to struggle with the rope. “I’m pissed, and I still want to know how you knew all this was going to happen. But I kinda feel like you-”
The door opened upstairs, the light illuminating the darkness that they were sitting in. Dean squinted as a man, what he was betting his good shoulder a demon, walked down the steps. He couldn’t see his face, but he saw a silhouette. He wasn’t much further at getting himself unbound. That voice that he woke up to came out, and it addressed Buffy, who was watching him. The light had hit her face, and she looked like hell, and she was still working at the binds, but less noticeably.
“Good. You’re awake,” It spat.
“Well, hey there.” She leaned her head against the post. I heard someone ordered some blood.”
“Snarky. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pity we can’t send your soul to hell. They’d have just as much a field day as they did with your hunter mate over there.”
Dean interrupted. “Hey. I got expelled.” He needed to try something to get the attention off Buffy. It didn’t work. The hunter walked to her and struck her, the sound of bone hitting bone making Dean yell and cringe. Buffy kept her face turned from the force for a few seconds before slowly careening it back to face him.
“Well that was too much fun.” The demon delivered another punch square to her jaw. Dean watched the blood splatter from her mouth to the concrete. He screamed every curse word he could to get its attention, but it was in vain. He was helpless. The demon continued striking her, with each hit, more and more blood spattered. After about the sixth hit, the demon stopped, and once again, Buffy turned to look at him. This time with a feral smile at her bloodied lips.
“Do it again.”
The demon laughed before throwing another punch headed straight for her nose. This time, she caught it in her hand.
She’d gotten out of the binds.
With the fist in her hand, she twisted and squeezed clearly breaking bones. The demon howled in pain, and she swept him with her feet, causing him to fall on the ground. That gave her the time to get herself up, and wipe her face, attempting to stop her face from dripping her own blood.
“Ow.” She kicked it square in the face, hard enough to make it fly three feet forward. Again and again, she kicked it, finally stopping as its body hit a wall. A human would have had their neck snapped three times over.
It lay there, unmoving. She seemed satisfied enough, and instantly she ran to Dean, checking him. With her face so close to his, he could see how badly the demon had hurt her. It had him seeing red.
“Are you okay?” That was the last question she should have been asking him. He wasn’t alright. His temper was through the roof, and watching her get beat to hell while he sat there helpless was more than just a revelation. He knew it. He’d been thinking about it when he knew that he shouldn’t have been thinkin’ about it.
“You shouldn’t be askin’ me that question, Buffy. Are you?”
She stared at him for a second, contemplating serious before defaulting to her usual.
“What, this?” She gestured to herself with a laugh as she got the last bind off of him. He groaned when his shoulder moved back to his side. “I’ve been saying I need some color in my cheeks for months now.”
“That’s not funny. He tried to pummel your damn face off. Not to mention you already have some kinda liquid in your veins.” She helped him up, and wiped at her face again, keeping her hands on him. They were cold, and it wasn’t comforting.
“I think it’s out, Dean. Whatever it was. My body hurts like hell from the accident, I’ve got a few fractures, but I’m not dizzy. So let’s just get both of us alive and out before we add another worry to the list,” She smiled at him, encouragingly, before grabbing his hand and putting it up to her pulse. “See? Strong heart. We’re good. Now let’s get out of here, so I can forgive you.”
She spoke with humor, but there were positive undertones matched with a smile.
He wanted to kiss her right there. Hard, with everything that he had in him.
He didn’t have time to react to her.
The events moved too fast. Once he was holding her, and the next she was clutching at his shoulders, a gasp escaping her lips before blood poured out of them. Her eyes held the look of horror, then the look of emptiness. The look that he was used to seeing. A look that he saw too often come out of the friends that he buried. He yelled her name, but he couldn’t hear himself. It was in too much of a blur.
He couldn’t hold her or try to stop the bleeding; he didn’t know the words that he tried to speak to her before a hard strength hit him in the temple. He dropped her to the ground, being forced to defend himself. It was an attempt that was failing. His body was in shock as his hunter instincts moved before his brain could process anything that had happened. By the next blow, Dean was able to dodge, and hit him with so much anger and pain. He saw her on the floor, face down, blood pooling on the floor.
It made him hit the demon that had recovered harder, trying to force it to drop the knife. He had to hit it, and he was going to kill it.
That was before an invisible force threw him against a wall so hard that he saw black for a full five seconds. He couldn’t move a muscle, and he groaned in pain as tears stung his eyes. They were tears of agony, and pain.
When he could finally see again, the demon was standing over Buffy. It moved her with its foot lie she was an animal, and he was checking to see if it was dea-. No.
No.
“You son of a bitch! I swear to God-”
“…God?” It looked up at him with black eyes that were filled with nothing but malice and victory. “Last place you’re seeing God is here, boy. We went through too much trouble to get you and the slayer together again. Your brother should really check his sources before reading articles on the internet.”
It walked around Buffy’s form, and stepped over the pool of her blood that made Dean want to hurl. He could smell it, and each breath he took, he strained even harder against the force while the demon rattled on.
“We’ve come across quite the gem, of course nothing worth having ever comes easy. And here you are. You forced me to waste precious pints of a soul touched by heaven. I can’t even find myself enjoying the fact that I just killed your blonde bombshell.”
Hearing what he didn’t want to believe come out of its mouth had him straining even harder, seeing nothing but a thick blanket of red. The demon smiled at him again, and walked slowly, almost as if taunting him as he tapped a knife that looked like it was centuries old, still soaked with Buffy’s blood against his temple.
He threw a punch, and it connected square in the jaw. Dean’s head it the wall again.
“It’s not really wasted. I got it with the knife, which means that blood pooling under her is still useful,” It clipped Dean three more times in the face. He was losing consciousness.
It grabbed him by the neck, and dragged the knife along Dean’s cheek.
“You feel that?” He did. It felt like a spark against his cheek, not a sting from the cut.
“We can do anything with this.”
“Y-yeah?” Dean tried to laugh under the clutch of the demon’s pressure on his throat.
He could laugh, because he saw Castiel. That damn angel who had the two extremes with timing. He was either the worst at it or the best.
“How’s it do against backstabbings? You piece of shit.” It was choked, but just as he said it, a silver blade sliced clean through, protruding in crimson red on the other side. The demon screamed right before a loud crack echoed through the air. The force that was once holding Dean against the wall had disappeared, causing him to fall on one knee, almost on top of the fallen body that the demon once inhibited.
Cas had bent down to help Dean, but he refused it, trying to get up to get to her.
“Buffy.”
He crawled past Cas, knelt against her, moving the hair out of her face. He pushed the bile down, and placed a hand against her cheek as she stared into nothingness.
“She’s dead, Dean.”
Forward to: THE FINAL CHAPTER.
Backward to:
Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
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 Sixteen:
“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” The disgruntled voice was loud and deep. It was male and wheezy, a product of smoking too much tobacco. The sound was muted a little bit, and as Dean stirred, and opened his eyes, his thoughts were confirmed. He was tied to a large wooden beam, telling him he was in the cellar, and that the bastards that cracked his skull were above him. His entire body hurt, and when he tried to move his arms to see how tight the rope was, he couldn’t help but almost yell in pain as he felt his muscles contract. He was tightly bound, and his shoulder hurt like a bitch.
Someone had experience in tying knots.
He couldn’t move at all, part of that summing up the car crash and the concussion. The dried blood on the side of his face told him he’d been out for a while, but the headache told him it wasn’t long enough.
“Buffy?” He whispered it in a pained voice, the pain from his wounds too overpowering.
Nothing. It was pitch black, and the cement was freezing under him.
“We need them both awake for the ritual, you idiot. We need her at full strength.”
Dean tried to move a little bit more, trying desperately to loosen the binds. These people were smart. He was tied at the elbows, too. There was no way he was getting out. A good minute went by before he found himself slowly adjusting to the light. He scanned the room, finally seeing objects that had been blurred with the darkness.
He could see her.
It was her hair that had caught his attention first. She was tied to the other post, her head bent over, body slack. He called her name a few more times, and used the sudden burst of energy he had to work at the rope. She wasn’t responding. He couldn’t tell if she was even breathing.
The conversation continued upstairs, but Dean’s attention was on making sure Buffy was okay. He’d deal with the tornado of shit they were in once he learned that there was still a ‘they.’
He cursed as the binds burned his wrists with every movement he made.
He finally heard an injured moan come out of her mouth.
“Hey, Buffy, you hear me?”
She was moving her head to his voice.
“C’mon girl, answer me.”
“I hear you.”
“Thank God. Can you move?”
“Yeah,” She sucked in a hissed breath. “…No. I’m tied up. You? Are you okay?”
“Same. Goddammit.”
“How long…” She hissed again. “have we been here?”
“My guess by the dried blood and the damn kink in my neck.. at least an hour. Maybe two. Hell, I don’t friggin’ know. I thought I lost ya back there.”
“Well, they need us both, right? Isn’t that what you said? So… you can’t get rid of me that easily? ..Or is that too soon?” She was straining, against the binds just as he was.
“As long as you’re talkin’, I don’t really give a damn what you say. Hell, tell me you hate me, I’m sure you can find enough words for that subject.” It was the truth. At that point, as long as she was speaking, he didn’t give a damn about what was coming out of it, even if he preferred something that didn’t have to do with him leaving her in a motel bed. Or what he’d thought about the time after.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Ha.”
She sighed, still straining, but exasperated. “I knew what I was getting into when I kissed you, Dean. It’s not - dammit I’m tied tight.” She took a few more seconds to struggle with the rope. “I’m pissed, and I still want to know how you knew all this was going to happen. But I kinda feel like you-”
The door opened upstairs, the light illuminating the darkness that they were sitting in. Dean squinted as a man, what he was betting his good shoulder a demon, walked down the steps. He couldn’t see his face, but he saw a silhouette. He wasn’t much further at getting himself unbound. That voice that he woke up to came out, and it addressed Buffy, who was watching him. The light had hit her face, and she looked like hell, and she was still working at the binds, but less noticeably.
“Good. You’re awake,” It spat.
“Well, hey there.” She leaned her head against the post. I heard someone ordered some blood.”
“Snarky. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pity we can’t send your soul to hell. They’d have just as much a field day as they did with your hunter mate over there.”
Dean interrupted. “Hey. I got expelled.” He needed to try something to get the attention off Buffy. It didn’t work. The hunter walked to her and struck her, the sound of bone hitting bone making Dean yell and cringe. Buffy kept her face turned from the force for a few seconds before slowly careening it back to face him.
“Well that was too much fun.” The demon delivered another punch square to her jaw. Dean watched the blood splatter from her mouth to the concrete. He screamed every curse word he could to get its attention, but it was in vain. He was helpless. The demon continued striking her, with each hit, more and more blood spattered. After about the sixth hit, the demon stopped, and once again, Buffy turned to look at him. This time with a feral smile at her bloodied lips.
“Do it again.”
The demon laughed before throwing another punch headed straight for her nose. This time, she caught it in her hand.
She’d gotten out of the binds.
With the fist in her hand, she twisted and squeezed clearly breaking bones. The demon howled in pain, and she swept him with her feet, causing him to fall on the ground. That gave her the time to get herself up, and wipe her face, attempting to stop her face from dripping her own blood.
“Ow.” She kicked it square in the face, hard enough to make it fly three feet forward. Again and again, she kicked it, finally stopping as its body hit a wall. A human would have had their neck snapped three times over.
It lay there, unmoving. She seemed satisfied enough, and instantly she ran to Dean, checking him. With her face so close to his, he could see how badly the demon had hurt her. It had him seeing red.
“Are you okay?” That was the last question she should have been asking him. He wasn’t alright. His temper was through the roof, and watching her get beat to hell while he sat there helpless was more than just a revelation. He knew it. He’d been thinking about it when he knew that he shouldn’t have been thinkin’ about it.
“You shouldn’t be askin’ me that question, Buffy. Are you?”
She stared at him for a second, contemplating serious before defaulting to her usual.
“What, this?” She gestured to herself with a laugh as she got the last bind off of him. He groaned when his shoulder moved back to his side. “I’ve been saying I need some color in my cheeks for months now.”
“That’s not funny. He tried to pummel your damn face off. Not to mention you already have some kinda liquid in your veins.” She helped him up, and wiped at her face again, keeping her hands on him. They were cold, and it wasn’t comforting.
“I think it’s out, Dean. Whatever it was. My body hurts like hell from the accident, I’ve got a few fractures, but I’m not dizzy. So let’s just get both of us alive and out before we add another worry to the list,” She smiled at him, encouragingly, before grabbing his hand and putting it up to her pulse. “See? Strong heart. We’re good. Now let’s get out of here, so I can forgive you.”
She spoke with humor, but there were positive undertones matched with a smile.
He wanted to kiss her right there. Hard, with everything that he had in him.
He didn’t have time to react to her.
The events moved too fast. Once he was holding her, and the next she was clutching at his shoulders, a gasp escaping her lips before blood poured out of them. Her eyes held the look of horror, then the look of emptiness. The look that he was used to seeing. A look that he saw too often come out of the friends that he buried. He yelled her name, but he couldn’t hear himself. It was in too much of a blur.
He couldn’t hold her or try to stop the bleeding; he didn’t know the words that he tried to speak to her before a hard strength hit him in the temple. He dropped her to the ground, being forced to defend himself. It was an attempt that was failing. His body was in shock as his hunter instincts moved before his brain could process anything that had happened. By the next blow, Dean was able to dodge, and hit him with so much anger and pain. He saw her on the floor, face down, blood pooling on the floor.
It made him hit the demon that had recovered harder, trying to force it to drop the knife. He had to hit it, and he was going to kill it.
That was before an invisible force threw him against a wall so hard that he saw black for a full five seconds. He couldn’t move a muscle, and he groaned in pain as tears stung his eyes. They were tears of agony, and pain.
When he could finally see again, the demon was standing over Buffy. It moved her with its foot lie she was an animal, and he was checking to see if it was dea-. No.
No.
“You son of a bitch! I swear to God-”
“…God?” It looked up at him with black eyes that were filled with nothing but malice and victory. “Last place you’re seeing God is here, boy. We went through too much trouble to get you and the slayer together again. Your brother should really check his sources before reading articles on the internet.”
It walked around Buffy’s form, and stepped over the pool of her blood that made Dean want to hurl. He could smell it, and each breath he took, he strained even harder against the force while the demon rattled on.
“We’ve come across quite the gem, of course nothing worth having ever comes easy. And here you are. You forced me to waste precious pints of a soul touched by heaven. I can’t even find myself enjoying the fact that I just killed your blonde bombshell.”
Hearing what he didn’t want to believe come out of its mouth had him straining even harder, seeing nothing but a thick blanket of red. The demon smiled at him again, and walked slowly, almost as if taunting him as he tapped a knife that looked like it was centuries old, still soaked with Buffy’s blood against his temple.
He threw a punch, and it connected square in the jaw. Dean’s head it the wall again.
“It’s not really wasted. I got it with the knife, which means that blood pooling under her is still useful,” It clipped Dean three more times in the face. He was losing consciousness.
It grabbed him by the neck, and dragged the knife along Dean’s cheek.
“You feel that?” He did. It felt like a spark against his cheek, not a sting from the cut.
“We can do anything with this.”
“Y-yeah?” Dean tried to laugh under the clutch of the demon’s pressure on his throat.
He could laugh, because he saw Castiel. That damn angel who had the two extremes with timing. He was either the worst at it or the best.
“How’s it do against backstabbings? You piece of shit.” It was choked, but just as he said it, a silver blade sliced clean through, protruding in crimson red on the other side. The demon screamed right before a loud crack echoed through the air. The force that was once holding Dean against the wall had disappeared, causing him to fall on one knee, almost on top of the fallen body that the demon once inhibited.
Cas had bent down to help Dean, but he refused it, trying to get up to get to her.
“Buffy.”
He crawled past Cas, knelt against her, moving the hair out of her face. He pushed the bile down, and placed a hand against her cheek as she stared into nothingness.
“She’s dead, Dean.”
Forward to: THE FINAL CHAPTER.
Backward to:
Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
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.