Burning Memories - Chapter 1 (Buffy/Dean)
Title: Burning Memories
Author: Lisa
Status: Completed
Chapter List: Prologue / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Epilogue
Rating: R (for violence, language and sexual situations)
Fandom: Supernatural/BtVS Crossover
Pairing: Buffy/Dean
Genre: Angst/Drama
Summary: Illusions are a devils game that blur the black and white lines to gray. Evil is back, but which form will it appear in?
Spoilers: All season of BtVS are fair game along with all episodes of SPN up to “Everyone Loves a Clown”
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended. “To make everything right is for God to just reach out and turn off the light!” is taken from a modern day nursery rhyme by Shel Silverstein, no infringement intended.
Distribution: Not without permission from myself.
AN: Thanks to Dani to beta'ing this piece for me! Much love!
Amber liquid filled the scratched shot glass resting on the bar as Dean peered into it with apprehension. Ash had chuckled, running a hand through his light brown mullet, as he muttered ‘shit’ under his breath when Ellen passed Dean what she called a ‘Redneck Killer’ across the old chipped wooden bar. Dean hadn’t questioned what Ash was getting at, but as the strong smell of alcohol filled his nostrils he wished he had pulled aside the lanky looking man and asked. It was in his instincts not to trust people. His father may have trusted Ellen and her daughter, but Dean didn’t and wasn’t planning on building a fluffy relationship with either of ‘em.
“If I was gonna kill ya’ would’ve done it when you trespassed. Now drink it.” Ellen gave him a pointed stare making it clear that it wasn’t a request.
Ellen smirked, noting how similar Dean was to his father when she had first met him so many years ago. Her smile disappeared and she wondered what the real story was behind John. Neither of the boys had said much about what had happened or how the demon had caught up to them and it was damn well killing her not to pull one of them aside and force it out of ‘em.
Dean raised an eyebrow at her before lifting the glass off the bar. She looked annoyed as her eyes narrowed causing her to look older than she was. “What the hell, came back twice before.” He muttered the words under his breath before pouring some of the liquid into his mouth. He felt the burn the moment the amber elixir invaded his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he clenched his jaw. “That’s some strong shit.”
“Don’t let the weak shit in.” Ellen passed a beer to another burly looking customer that was hunched over a bowl of peanuts at the far end of the bar.
“Should probably send Sammy back to our room then.” He winked at Jo as she passed by and headed towards her mom. Dean tilted his head to the side as he watched the blonde’s little ass sway in the form fitting jeans. She wasn’t so hard on he eyes and if he wasn’t so hell bent on getting trashed tonight he might have considered taking her back to his hotel room.
Dean smirked as Jo beamed at him. Maybe when they got back from this little hunting trip he’d invite her back to his place for a little rough and tumble.
He was pulled away from the blonde as the jukebox made some deep growling noises while it changed to a new track. Dean knew it had to be ancient by the way it took almost two minutes to change albums. He smirked and shook his head; “Pyscho Killer” by Talking Heads came blaring through the poor speakers on the box.
“This your theme song?” Dean asked; his mouth still burning from whatever Ellen had given him.
Ellen let out a deep sigh as Jo once again complained about the company that was currently occupying her back office. She tossed the cloth on the bar with an annoyed look. “Finish wiping down the bar.” She turned and looked at Dean. “Quit being a smartass.” She walked over to where he sat and bent down. He reeked of booze. “Oh and look at my daughter like that again and they’ll never find you body.” She smiled sourly at him before she headed through the door by the bar towards her back office to deal with situation.
“Thought it was funny.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly before taking another long sip of the liquid, hoping it would dull the constant ache he had since his father whispered in his ear at the hospital. Things in his life were about to be screwed in a way they never had been before and he was caught smack dab in the middle of it.
Sam had been closely watching Dean as he sat hunched over the bar for the last hour. His broad shoulders blocked his view of exactly how many his older brother had slammed back. By the odd sway that Dean was doing every so often he was getting close to being tanked.
He knew it was going to be a rough night when Dean bought a case of beer earlier that evening. After he had drank half the case he had suggested they head to the “Roadhouse” for something a little stronger. Sam had tried to urge his brother to just crash, but he refused. Dean always had enjoyed the bottle when he tried to ignore what was really going on.
Sam brushed away a dark strand of hair off his forehead, he hated that Dean wouldn’t just let how he was feeling out. It was time for a chick-flick moment. This was hard on the both of them and Sam needed his older brother to help him through this. He was still reeling from the last exchange he had with his Dad and a part of him needed some sort of forgiveness, even if it came from Dean.
Standing up, he grabbed Dad’s leather-bound journal and headed over to Dean. He pulled up a wooden stool next to his brother, forcing out a relaxed smile. “Dude, we should get a few hours of sleep. Have a long drive tomorrow.” Sam flashed his watch in front of his brother’s red-rimmed eyes.
Sam still wasn’t sure why Ellen didn’t want them leave tonight. She hadn’t given them anything more than they should stay the night, and if he hadn’t been watching so closely he would’ve missed the way Jo had rolled her dark eyes in annoyance and muttered ‘typical’ under her breath. Ellen had shot her a pointed look and Jo had simply raised her hands in defeat before she went back to stocking the shelf.
Dean took another sip before turning his gaze at his brother. “Man, this is some good shit.” He smiled broadly. “Nah, I’m gonna stay here for a bit longer, have another round… maybe shoot some darts. Man, ‘member that time I shot you in the ass with a dart?” He slapped his brother back, making a loud ‘thwack’ while he laughed. “Shit, you were mad Sammy.”
Sam couldn’t help but chuckle while he shook his head. “It hurt like a bitch!” He tried to defend himself and how he reacted. After he had pulled the pointed object out of his ass he had turned and slugged Dean before heading back to the room. For the next week he did nothing but complain about how sore his ass was.
Dean continued to laugh at his brother while he started to drum his hands against the wooden bar to the beat of the song but was interrupted by Ellen’s raised voice, “I didn’t ask you to come here!”
“No, I just showed up and saved your ass!” Buffy strode into the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and flipped a shooter in the air. “Do I look like a babysitter to you?” She shot back over her shoulder.
The blonde poured the dark amber liquid into a shot glass and sucked it back and refilled it. She chewed on her lower lip as she looked up at Ellen who was apparently trying to kill her with a death stare.
“When I came, I told you I work alone. No partners. No Jo tagging along for a little joy ride. Alone, which means the two guys at the bar aren’t coming with.” Buffy turned, her emerald eyes darker than normal letting others know she was pissed. She smiled sickly-sweet at the two brothers before she headed out the front doors of the “Roadhouse” slamming them behind her.
“She’ll be going with you two. She’ll be pissed about it, but she’ll go.” Ellen filled up the empty shot glass that the blonde had left behind and slammed back a shooter.
~*~
With her tanned arms folded over her chest in a defensive position, Buffy leaned against the rusted blue van that was parked behind the bar. The wind whipped around the parking lot causing small dust tornados to dance around; natures own ballet. She was slowly getting used to the odd weather in the mid-western America. The first few months of being away from the warm embrace of sunny California caused her to layer up to fight off the cold wind.
She kicked a rock with her boot-encased foot and watched as it bounced against the ground until it hit the back wheel of the van making a faint ‘thump’ sound. Dean and Sam didn’t look like the type of guys that drove the American Soccer Mom vehicle but then she didn’t know anything about them. They were hunters and somehow ended up at the “Roadhouse” they weren’t regulars because when Ellen had first mentioned that she wanted Buffy to go with; Jo had been more than usual hostile towards her. Jo must have a crush on the newest boys to stumble their way to the beat-up wood framed bar. She had often wondered what drew hunters to the bar originally. Ellen had never gone much into the specifics of how the place came to be such a local hangout. Ellen wasn’t into giving much history lessons when it came to her life and normally she was good at not prying into others until last night.
She resented being sent on a mission like she was back in Sunnydale with her Watcher and friends dictating her every move. She had left that life behind her over a year ago and wasn’t keen on falling back into the same pattern. Her new and improved system consisted of Ellen informing her about the newest nasties that needed to be snuffed out. She chose which jobs she wanted to take and left the scraps to whichever group of hunters where at the “Roadhouse” waiting for a new hunt to come their way.
Buffy pulled out her Gucci sunglasses from her black leather satchel and placed them on her face, an attempt to block the bright morning sun. She really shouldn’t have had those last few shots the night before.
Gods, how long did it take them to hit the road? An impatient growl sounded from the back of her throat as she glanced down at her watch, she was itching to kill something.
After she had left the bar last night, annoyed and pissed off that she was being ordered about again, Ellen had barged into her sparse room and demanded that she go with Dean and Sam. Buffy had continued to refuse, reminding Ellen (not for the first time) that she wasn’t looking for sidekicks. Buffy's waving hands and heated arguments had all stopped short as soon as the older woman had pulled out the big guns - the ‘Aunt’ card. Buffy still cringed at the warning. Ellen had promised that she would call up Dawn and let her know that she could rest easy; the prodigal Buffy hadn’t been killed. Buffy had been on a nice long year round road trip to clear her head and had stumbled cross ‘Aunt Ellen’s’ place a few months back and decided to stay and help out.
“I’ve been nothing but good to you and I understand the need to get away, hell I’d have done the same damn thing, but these boys are gonna need ya!” Ellen’s voice boomed throughout the small room. She wasn’t about to let Buffy off the hook on this one.
Buffy rolled her eyes, not flinching at the tone that came from her Aunt. “I don’t care, that’s the difference.” She pulled open the small dress drawer; grabbing her sweaters she shoved them in her bag that was perched on the single bed. “Besides what makes these two any different from all the other hunters that pass through your doors, huh?”
“None of your damn business and since when do you care to hear the stories that come through those doors!” Ellen pointed towards the bar. “You’ve made it damn clear you don’t care to get fuzzy feelings for anyone or anything.” Frowning she finally noticed the bag on the bed that was being stuffed with Buffy’s belongings. “Just what the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to escape the looney show that is you! You can’t make me help them. They’ve managed not to get themselves killed so far, better track record than I have.” She zipped up the bag and looked at her aunt. “Call me if you need some help with any actual slaying.”
Ellen blocked the blonde’s path and locked the door. “You will help ‘em or I’ll call your sister, let her know you’re okay. I don’t want to, but I will if you don’t do this for me! One favor is all I’m askin’ from ya.”
The threat had pissed her off more than she let on and only after her Aunt had left the room did she kick the bed causing the frame to snap in two. She had regretted her decision later that night when the box spring kept her up all night; her entire body sore from her sleep or lack thereof.
Now she had to be crammed in the piece of junk she was resting against for hours while being stuck with people she didn’t know nor care to know.
Life hated her with a vengeance that probably would’ve made Anya proud.
While she had been downing her fourth cup of coffee, which had caused her to be jittery and pee every ten minutes, Ellen had tossed her the job file. The file had skidded along the bar before it hit her coffee mug causing some of the dark liquid to spill on her hand. The file tab had read ‘Possessed Clowns’; wonderful, she was hunting a Steven King character.
The loud ‘bang’ of the back door of the “Roadhouse” being shut caught her attention. She turned and watched as the two brothers sauntered towards her.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Guess Ellen doesn’t take no for an answer.” Dean smirked and eyed the blonde that looked sexy as hell in her worn jeans with a fitted vintage ‘Blondie’ concert t-shirt. He had tried to remember what she looked like but he’d been too far-gone last night to remember much of anything
The sun hit her golden sun-kissed blonde hair causing a halo-type affect the framed her delicate face. He walked past her and her emerald eyes sparked with anger as he nudged her aside to open the drivers’ side door.
Buffy rolled her eyes as she pushed off the van, brushing any dust off her clothing. “I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes for you two.”
Taking pause, Buffy examined the older Winchester brother from under the shaded lenses of her glasses. He was tall, much taller than her, though that didn’t take much since she was so short. In an unconscious move she licked her full lower lip, appreciatively she watched his muscles move under his t-shirt when he tossed his bag into the van. Buffy heard it land with a thud, but the exact location wasn’t viewable as his broad masculine shoulders blocked her view. His jaw was covered with a fine dust that gleamed in the too bright morning sun and his murky green eyes were full of attitude. Definitely drool-worthy.
“See something you like, princess?” Dean grinned arrogantly at her as he climbed into the van.
“Nah, just realizing that I shouldn’t be so hard on your sleeping habits. You could use the beauty sleep, princess.” Buffy sneered out ‘princess’ with as much distain as she could muster. She didn’t care for anymore-cute nicknames. They tended to pull all of her thoughts back to what she was trying to escape.
His laughter rung through the cozy space of the van, and Buffy didn't need to see him to imagine how his stomach muscles would flex with his mirth. “Sweetheart it’s easier if you just accept it. I’m the best lookin’ thing you’ve seen in a long time.” He winked and closed the door.
Buffy was about to lift her bag but remembered that neither of them knew she was The Slayer and she rather it stayed that way. She chewed on her lower lip feigning weakness before she lifted it up. She let out a soft groan that insinuated it had taken all of her effort to lift it and made her way slowly around the beat-up van. Buffy felt two pairs of eyes on her as she slid the side van door open.
She placed her long canvas bag on the floor next the bench seat in the back. Her scythe and weapons took up most of the room in her bag, leaving just enough space for her clothing and toiletries. It still bugged her that her wardrobe had been downsized after leaving Sunnydale. She didn’t have enough money or room to house her lavish shopping habits. She crawled into the van blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes before she sat down. She placed her satchel next to her and sent a scowl towards Dean.
Curiously, Sam had watched the interaction between his brother and the blonde. Normally his older brother would’ve tried hitting on a girl as attractive as her, but instead he had thrown an insult. Interesting. Sam twisted his long upper body around and smiled at the blonde.
“Hi, I’m Sam.” He held out his hand, an offer of peace towards the blonde.
As her hand moved to meet his her fingers skimmed over her palm and the burn that marked her tender flesh. There would be no way she could explain the symbol that was obviously not caused by grabbing a hot pan. Quickly she stuck her hand back in her lap and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Bitch.
A frown passed over Sam’s features. “Ah… wish I could say my brother has better manners than that but…” his voice trailed off letting silence hang in the humid van.
“Sammy quit trying to play nice.” Dean reached up with his large hand and angled the rear-view mirror towards the girl. “Ellen wants us to watch after her, not become BFF’s.”
Dean started the engine, cringing as the motor coughed to life. Oh how he missed the powerful purr that his baby used to make. He’d blare a mix of AC/DC, his window rolled down while he drummed against the side of his car. No matter how hard he pushed her she’d never give up the chase. She was like thoroughbred horse getting the chance to stretch her legs in the open plain. He winced as the engine made a whining noise from lack of proper maintenance. He backed up the hunk of metal and noticed the look of frustration that passed over Buffy’s features as he mentioned Ellen’s name. Ellen had never asked them to watch out for her but he couldn’t help to make the comment that she had. The girl was prickly; he smiled and guided the van onto the highway.
Author: Lisa
Status: Completed
Chapter List: Prologue / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Epilogue
Rating: R (for violence, language and sexual situations)
Fandom: Supernatural/BtVS Crossover
Pairing: Buffy/Dean
Genre: Angst/Drama
Summary: Illusions are a devils game that blur the black and white lines to gray. Evil is back, but which form will it appear in?
Spoilers: All season of BtVS are fair game along with all episodes of SPN up to “Everyone Loves a Clown”
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended. “To make everything right is for God to just reach out and turn off the light!” is taken from a modern day nursery rhyme by Shel Silverstein, no infringement intended.
Distribution: Not without permission from myself.
AN: Thanks to Dani to beta'ing this piece for me! Much love!
Amber liquid filled the scratched shot glass resting on the bar as Dean peered into it with apprehension. Ash had chuckled, running a hand through his light brown mullet, as he muttered ‘shit’ under his breath when Ellen passed Dean what she called a ‘Redneck Killer’ across the old chipped wooden bar. Dean hadn’t questioned what Ash was getting at, but as the strong smell of alcohol filled his nostrils he wished he had pulled aside the lanky looking man and asked. It was in his instincts not to trust people. His father may have trusted Ellen and her daughter, but Dean didn’t and wasn’t planning on building a fluffy relationship with either of ‘em.
“If I was gonna kill ya’ would’ve done it when you trespassed. Now drink it.” Ellen gave him a pointed stare making it clear that it wasn’t a request.
Ellen smirked, noting how similar Dean was to his father when she had first met him so many years ago. Her smile disappeared and she wondered what the real story was behind John. Neither of the boys had said much about what had happened or how the demon had caught up to them and it was damn well killing her not to pull one of them aside and force it out of ‘em.
Dean raised an eyebrow at her before lifting the glass off the bar. She looked annoyed as her eyes narrowed causing her to look older than she was. “What the hell, came back twice before.” He muttered the words under his breath before pouring some of the liquid into his mouth. He felt the burn the moment the amber elixir invaded his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he clenched his jaw. “That’s some strong shit.”
“Don’t let the weak shit in.” Ellen passed a beer to another burly looking customer that was hunched over a bowl of peanuts at the far end of the bar.
“Should probably send Sammy back to our room then.” He winked at Jo as she passed by and headed towards her mom. Dean tilted his head to the side as he watched the blonde’s little ass sway in the form fitting jeans. She wasn’t so hard on he eyes and if he wasn’t so hell bent on getting trashed tonight he might have considered taking her back to his hotel room.
Dean smirked as Jo beamed at him. Maybe when they got back from this little hunting trip he’d invite her back to his place for a little rough and tumble.
He was pulled away from the blonde as the jukebox made some deep growling noises while it changed to a new track. Dean knew it had to be ancient by the way it took almost two minutes to change albums. He smirked and shook his head; “Pyscho Killer” by Talking Heads came blaring through the poor speakers on the box.
“This your theme song?” Dean asked; his mouth still burning from whatever Ellen had given him.
Ellen let out a deep sigh as Jo once again complained about the company that was currently occupying her back office. She tossed the cloth on the bar with an annoyed look. “Finish wiping down the bar.” She turned and looked at Dean. “Quit being a smartass.” She walked over to where he sat and bent down. He reeked of booze. “Oh and look at my daughter like that again and they’ll never find you body.” She smiled sourly at him before she headed through the door by the bar towards her back office to deal with situation.
“Thought it was funny.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly before taking another long sip of the liquid, hoping it would dull the constant ache he had since his father whispered in his ear at the hospital. Things in his life were about to be screwed in a way they never had been before and he was caught smack dab in the middle of it.
Sam had been closely watching Dean as he sat hunched over the bar for the last hour. His broad shoulders blocked his view of exactly how many his older brother had slammed back. By the odd sway that Dean was doing every so often he was getting close to being tanked.
He knew it was going to be a rough night when Dean bought a case of beer earlier that evening. After he had drank half the case he had suggested they head to the “Roadhouse” for something a little stronger. Sam had tried to urge his brother to just crash, but he refused. Dean always had enjoyed the bottle when he tried to ignore what was really going on.
Sam brushed away a dark strand of hair off his forehead, he hated that Dean wouldn’t just let how he was feeling out. It was time for a chick-flick moment. This was hard on the both of them and Sam needed his older brother to help him through this. He was still reeling from the last exchange he had with his Dad and a part of him needed some sort of forgiveness, even if it came from Dean.
Standing up, he grabbed Dad’s leather-bound journal and headed over to Dean. He pulled up a wooden stool next to his brother, forcing out a relaxed smile. “Dude, we should get a few hours of sleep. Have a long drive tomorrow.” Sam flashed his watch in front of his brother’s red-rimmed eyes.
Sam still wasn’t sure why Ellen didn’t want them leave tonight. She hadn’t given them anything more than they should stay the night, and if he hadn’t been watching so closely he would’ve missed the way Jo had rolled her dark eyes in annoyance and muttered ‘typical’ under her breath. Ellen had shot her a pointed look and Jo had simply raised her hands in defeat before she went back to stocking the shelf.
Dean took another sip before turning his gaze at his brother. “Man, this is some good shit.” He smiled broadly. “Nah, I’m gonna stay here for a bit longer, have another round… maybe shoot some darts. Man, ‘member that time I shot you in the ass with a dart?” He slapped his brother back, making a loud ‘thwack’ while he laughed. “Shit, you were mad Sammy.”
Sam couldn’t help but chuckle while he shook his head. “It hurt like a bitch!” He tried to defend himself and how he reacted. After he had pulled the pointed object out of his ass he had turned and slugged Dean before heading back to the room. For the next week he did nothing but complain about how sore his ass was.
Dean continued to laugh at his brother while he started to drum his hands against the wooden bar to the beat of the song but was interrupted by Ellen’s raised voice, “I didn’t ask you to come here!”
“No, I just showed up and saved your ass!” Buffy strode into the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and flipped a shooter in the air. “Do I look like a babysitter to you?” She shot back over her shoulder.
The blonde poured the dark amber liquid into a shot glass and sucked it back and refilled it. She chewed on her lower lip as she looked up at Ellen who was apparently trying to kill her with a death stare.
“When I came, I told you I work alone. No partners. No Jo tagging along for a little joy ride. Alone, which means the two guys at the bar aren’t coming with.” Buffy turned, her emerald eyes darker than normal letting others know she was pissed. She smiled sickly-sweet at the two brothers before she headed out the front doors of the “Roadhouse” slamming them behind her.
“She’ll be going with you two. She’ll be pissed about it, but she’ll go.” Ellen filled up the empty shot glass that the blonde had left behind and slammed back a shooter.
~*~
With her tanned arms folded over her chest in a defensive position, Buffy leaned against the rusted blue van that was parked behind the bar. The wind whipped around the parking lot causing small dust tornados to dance around; natures own ballet. She was slowly getting used to the odd weather in the mid-western America. The first few months of being away from the warm embrace of sunny California caused her to layer up to fight off the cold wind.
She kicked a rock with her boot-encased foot and watched as it bounced against the ground until it hit the back wheel of the van making a faint ‘thump’ sound. Dean and Sam didn’t look like the type of guys that drove the American Soccer Mom vehicle but then she didn’t know anything about them. They were hunters and somehow ended up at the “Roadhouse” they weren’t regulars because when Ellen had first mentioned that she wanted Buffy to go with; Jo had been more than usual hostile towards her. Jo must have a crush on the newest boys to stumble their way to the beat-up wood framed bar. She had often wondered what drew hunters to the bar originally. Ellen had never gone much into the specifics of how the place came to be such a local hangout. Ellen wasn’t into giving much history lessons when it came to her life and normally she was good at not prying into others until last night.
She resented being sent on a mission like she was back in Sunnydale with her Watcher and friends dictating her every move. She had left that life behind her over a year ago and wasn’t keen on falling back into the same pattern. Her new and improved system consisted of Ellen informing her about the newest nasties that needed to be snuffed out. She chose which jobs she wanted to take and left the scraps to whichever group of hunters where at the “Roadhouse” waiting for a new hunt to come their way.
Buffy pulled out her Gucci sunglasses from her black leather satchel and placed them on her face, an attempt to block the bright morning sun. She really shouldn’t have had those last few shots the night before.
Gods, how long did it take them to hit the road? An impatient growl sounded from the back of her throat as she glanced down at her watch, she was itching to kill something.
After she had left the bar last night, annoyed and pissed off that she was being ordered about again, Ellen had barged into her sparse room and demanded that she go with Dean and Sam. Buffy had continued to refuse, reminding Ellen (not for the first time) that she wasn’t looking for sidekicks. Buffy's waving hands and heated arguments had all stopped short as soon as the older woman had pulled out the big guns - the ‘Aunt’ card. Buffy still cringed at the warning. Ellen had promised that she would call up Dawn and let her know that she could rest easy; the prodigal Buffy hadn’t been killed. Buffy had been on a nice long year round road trip to clear her head and had stumbled cross ‘Aunt Ellen’s’ place a few months back and decided to stay and help out.
“I’ve been nothing but good to you and I understand the need to get away, hell I’d have done the same damn thing, but these boys are gonna need ya!” Ellen’s voice boomed throughout the small room. She wasn’t about to let Buffy off the hook on this one.
Buffy rolled her eyes, not flinching at the tone that came from her Aunt. “I don’t care, that’s the difference.” She pulled open the small dress drawer; grabbing her sweaters she shoved them in her bag that was perched on the single bed. “Besides what makes these two any different from all the other hunters that pass through your doors, huh?”
“None of your damn business and since when do you care to hear the stories that come through those doors!” Ellen pointed towards the bar. “You’ve made it damn clear you don’t care to get fuzzy feelings for anyone or anything.” Frowning she finally noticed the bag on the bed that was being stuffed with Buffy’s belongings. “Just what the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to escape the looney show that is you! You can’t make me help them. They’ve managed not to get themselves killed so far, better track record than I have.” She zipped up the bag and looked at her aunt. “Call me if you need some help with any actual slaying.”
Ellen blocked the blonde’s path and locked the door. “You will help ‘em or I’ll call your sister, let her know you’re okay. I don’t want to, but I will if you don’t do this for me! One favor is all I’m askin’ from ya.”
The threat had pissed her off more than she let on and only after her Aunt had left the room did she kick the bed causing the frame to snap in two. She had regretted her decision later that night when the box spring kept her up all night; her entire body sore from her sleep or lack thereof.
Now she had to be crammed in the piece of junk she was resting against for hours while being stuck with people she didn’t know nor care to know.
Life hated her with a vengeance that probably would’ve made Anya proud.
While she had been downing her fourth cup of coffee, which had caused her to be jittery and pee every ten minutes, Ellen had tossed her the job file. The file had skidded along the bar before it hit her coffee mug causing some of the dark liquid to spill on her hand. The file tab had read ‘Possessed Clowns’; wonderful, she was hunting a Steven King character.
The loud ‘bang’ of the back door of the “Roadhouse” being shut caught her attention. She turned and watched as the two brothers sauntered towards her.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Guess Ellen doesn’t take no for an answer.” Dean smirked and eyed the blonde that looked sexy as hell in her worn jeans with a fitted vintage ‘Blondie’ concert t-shirt. He had tried to remember what she looked like but he’d been too far-gone last night to remember much of anything
The sun hit her golden sun-kissed blonde hair causing a halo-type affect the framed her delicate face. He walked past her and her emerald eyes sparked with anger as he nudged her aside to open the drivers’ side door.
Buffy rolled her eyes as she pushed off the van, brushing any dust off her clothing. “I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes for you two.”
Taking pause, Buffy examined the older Winchester brother from under the shaded lenses of her glasses. He was tall, much taller than her, though that didn’t take much since she was so short. In an unconscious move she licked her full lower lip, appreciatively she watched his muscles move under his t-shirt when he tossed his bag into the van. Buffy heard it land with a thud, but the exact location wasn’t viewable as his broad masculine shoulders blocked her view. His jaw was covered with a fine dust that gleamed in the too bright morning sun and his murky green eyes were full of attitude. Definitely drool-worthy.
“See something you like, princess?” Dean grinned arrogantly at her as he climbed into the van.
“Nah, just realizing that I shouldn’t be so hard on your sleeping habits. You could use the beauty sleep, princess.” Buffy sneered out ‘princess’ with as much distain as she could muster. She didn’t care for anymore-cute nicknames. They tended to pull all of her thoughts back to what she was trying to escape.
His laughter rung through the cozy space of the van, and Buffy didn't need to see him to imagine how his stomach muscles would flex with his mirth. “Sweetheart it’s easier if you just accept it. I’m the best lookin’ thing you’ve seen in a long time.” He winked and closed the door.
Buffy was about to lift her bag but remembered that neither of them knew she was The Slayer and she rather it stayed that way. She chewed on her lower lip feigning weakness before she lifted it up. She let out a soft groan that insinuated it had taken all of her effort to lift it and made her way slowly around the beat-up van. Buffy felt two pairs of eyes on her as she slid the side van door open.
She placed her long canvas bag on the floor next the bench seat in the back. Her scythe and weapons took up most of the room in her bag, leaving just enough space for her clothing and toiletries. It still bugged her that her wardrobe had been downsized after leaving Sunnydale. She didn’t have enough money or room to house her lavish shopping habits. She crawled into the van blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes before she sat down. She placed her satchel next to her and sent a scowl towards Dean.
Curiously, Sam had watched the interaction between his brother and the blonde. Normally his older brother would’ve tried hitting on a girl as attractive as her, but instead he had thrown an insult. Interesting. Sam twisted his long upper body around and smiled at the blonde.
“Hi, I’m Sam.” He held out his hand, an offer of peace towards the blonde.
As her hand moved to meet his her fingers skimmed over her palm and the burn that marked her tender flesh. There would be no way she could explain the symbol that was obviously not caused by grabbing a hot pan. Quickly she stuck her hand back in her lap and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Bitch.
A frown passed over Sam’s features. “Ah… wish I could say my brother has better manners than that but…” his voice trailed off letting silence hang in the humid van.
“Sammy quit trying to play nice.” Dean reached up with his large hand and angled the rear-view mirror towards the girl. “Ellen wants us to watch after her, not become BFF’s.”
Dean started the engine, cringing as the motor coughed to life. Oh how he missed the powerful purr that his baby used to make. He’d blare a mix of AC/DC, his window rolled down while he drummed against the side of his car. No matter how hard he pushed her she’d never give up the chase. She was like thoroughbred horse getting the chance to stretch her legs in the open plain. He winced as the engine made a whining noise from lack of proper maintenance. He backed up the hunk of metal and noticed the look of frustration that passed over Buffy’s features as he mentioned Ellen’s name. Ellen had never asked them to watch out for her but he couldn’t help to make the comment that she had. The girl was prickly; he smiled and guided the van onto the highway.