Bury Me in Honor (Buffy/Dean)
Title: Bury Me in Honor
Author: Lisa
Status: Completed One-Shot
Rating: PG-16
Fandom: BtVS/SPN
Character(s) and/or Pairing(s): Buffy Summers/Dean Winchester
Genre: Drama/Angst/Violence
Summary: “You’re right though, this is war and people die. Hell, even priests will fight for what they believe is holy but even they understand the concept of being smart with the fights you choose and being stupid.
Challenge: Prompt #05 - Hallowed out to fit their rifles. Table #2 = Darkness. Written for Would You Still Have Fallen Marathon over at Route 66: Destination Sunnydale
Spoilers/Warnings: Season 5 & 6 of Buffy and Season 3 of Supernatural. Violence and Language.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon & ME. No infringement intended. Supernatural and all related characters are copyright of Eric Kripke. No infringement intended.
Distribution: Not without permission from myself.
AN: Thanks to both Kristi and Nicole for beta’ing this piece. I appreciate all the concrit and any mistakes are mine. xoxo
Dawn curled the fingers of her right hand into a tight fist; pulling it back she swung out, surprising the oldest Winchester. He didn’t have a chance to block her punch. A loud ‘crack’ sounded as her fist slammed into Dean’s jaw. The sound sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine and knowing he was in a bit of pain managed to ward off some of the cold. His head whipped to the side causing him to stumble backwards before he lost his footing and fell into a snow bank.
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed out loudly. The snow underneath him melted as his body sprawled over top. The taste of copper flooded his mouth and he grimaced in response. Moving his tongue slowly around his mouth, he checked for any chipped teeth and eventually found where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek causing him to bleed.
Wincing, Dawn shook her hand in protest against the stabs of pain; she’d never get use to the jarring feeling after her fist collided with the desired object.
“You’re an asshole Dean!” Her tiny voice shook with rage and even seeing him sprawled on the snow with blood trickling down his chin didn’t sooth her rampaging emotions. She wanted him to have more than just a sore jaw.
Dean pushed himself into a sitting position with one hand while the other rubbed his tender jaw. It was already starting to swell. Bending a leg, Dean rested his hand on his jean-covered knee. His green eyes narrowed as he watched the youngest Summers scowl down at him.
He wanted to call her a bitch, remind her that he wasn’t the one that had swung the first punch but the fact that Sam, his brother, had fallen in love with her held him back.
The wind picked up, blowing ice crystals in a tornado of biting cold around the small glade. After years of being away from the warmth of California, Dawn still wasn’t acclimated to the cold. The chill sunk deep into her bones, despite the several layers of cold and her cheeks were starting to numb from the breeze.
Pushing brunette waves of hair off of her face, she stalked towards him, shoulders slightly hunched while her lips pressed together. Her fists continued to clench and unclench at her sides, itching to make another violent contact with Dean’s jaw but aware that this time he’d be ready.
“You’ve got no idea what you’re putting him through. You think it’s easy being the one to be left behind? To wonder what it’s like where you are? You close your eyes at night and visions of your body being tortured are what greet him.” Large tears blurred her vision; furiously, she wiped them away with the palms of her hands and the wind bit colder in the wet trails that stained her cheeks. “To wonder, endlessly, what sort of sick sadistic sufferings you’re being put through.”
Dawn bent over Dean, her legs framing his and she grabbed the lapels of Dean’s worn leather jacket. The leather felt smooth and soft against her fingers and she tightened her grip. Rage aiding her strength, she pulled him forward, their faces inches apart. “You’re not the only victim.” She spat her words out. “Not the only one who wakes up screaming with pictures of you in hell and it’s killing him!” Her voice rose as she spoke, until she screamed at him. Her arms shook and more tears spilled out in angry frustration.
Buffy bit her lip as she watched the scene unfold, safely hidden in the shadows of the trees that surrounded the glade. She had followed her sister when she had stomped after Dean, wanting to make sure things didn’t go too far. Dawn was on the edge and Dean was acting in what she assumed was normal behavior for situations like these, stubborn and the Webster’s definition of asshole.
As Dawn’s body shook with agony Buffy pushed off the tree she’d been leaning on and crept out of the shadows and into view.
“Dawn.” Whispering her sister’s name, the sound of her voice caused a wave of regret. Even to her own ears, she could hear the apology, the one she knew Dawn didn’t feel like hearing right now. She was hurting and the words she’d slung at Dean were also meant for her. She’d caused Dawn the same pain that Sam was in and once returned, she had done some of the same things, some worse, that Dean was doing.
Dawn turned her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder and stared at her sister. Everything came flooding back and her own pain surged forward, causing her to gasp. Shoving Dean away, she turned. Her shoulders rolled back and she took a defensive stance. “It’s you.”
Buffy cringed at the tone her sister used to address her. It was cold and cutting and hadn’t been directed at her for quite a while. Her stomach churned with sickness.
“What, did you come here to show him,” she dared a glance back at Dean, “how to really do this whole return from the dead gig?”
Gritting her teeth, Buffy tried to remind herself that Dawn didn’t mean that. That she knew that’s not the reason she was here, but it still hurt. Still hurt knowing that Dawn had so much anger inside and that Dean had pushed the past forward.
“I’m sure there’s a few tricks you can teach him.” A few strides ate up the distance between the two Summers before Dawn stalked past Buffy and into the shadows.
Buffy stayed frozen in place, listening, hearing what she knew Dean couldn’t. Her sister reached Sam about a hundred yards from the glade and only when their voices disappeared did she dare look at the hunter still slumped in the snow. Walking forward, her boots crunched through the top layer of snow that was almost more ice than snow before it sunk down, and she held out her hand.
Hesitating only a moment, Dean reached up and took the proffered hand. Her fingers wrapped around his and he leeched the warmth from them, reminding him how damn cold it was out here.
“Your sisters got a decent right hook, Summers.”
A small smile of pride couldn’t be hidden and caused the corner of her lips to curl upwards. In the last couple of years, Dawn had become adept at handling herself. She no longer was that gangly teenager that tripped over her own feet or that was always in need of being rescued. Years of being on the front lines of a constant war had taught her a few things. Buffy regretted the cause of that growth.
Dean spat out more blood; the crimson stained the white snow creating blossoms of blood.
“She’s right you know. You are being an ass.” Buffy lifted her gaze to meet his own angry one.
His eyes rolled back as he shook his head. “Stay out of it.” Dean moved to pass the blonde but an arm shot out and held him in place. With a forceful yank he managed to pull his arm free from her vice grip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, cause I know nothing about being brought back from the dead?” Buffy raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms across her chest.
“You’re kidding me right? You’re comparing your stint in heaven with my all expense paid stay in hell?” Jaw clenched from anger, he flipped her off. What the hell did Little Miss Blonde know about being stuck in fucking hell for more then two days? “Fuck you, Summers.”
Buffy took a step back, as though she’d been physical struck. Eyes widened in shock as she reeled in his callous comment. Within seconds the shock wore off and her body took an offensive stance.
He sneered back at her, his eyes narrowed full of both pleasure and anger. “What? Pissed off that someone finally had the balls to tell you to get over that?” He wasn’t about to be reprimanded by a chick he didn’t even know. He didn’t care if his brother was doing her sister; she’d pissed him off.
In less than a second, Buffy reached out, grabbed his jacket and hauled him forward. His head flung back from the unexpected movement. The smell of aged whiskey clung on his breath and stale smoke seeped off his clothing. Neither smell surprised her. She was well aware of the Winchesters love for seedy bars and honky-tonk’s. “I was going to do this the nice way.” She gritted out the words before spinning them both around and shoving him against the nearest tree, hard. The snow that clung to the trees’ branches fell from the impact and landed on their shoulders before sliding off.
The air was knocked out of him and he gasped for air. Eyes watered as he chocked for the breath she’d stolen from him. He struggled to break free but she held him still, reminding him once again about her freaky ass strength.
“You were rescued.” She snarled out the words and as he tried to squirm away, in response she pushed him harder against the trunk. “I was damned. Everything around you, the sun on your face, the cold breeze, Gods, even driving that car feels safe.” Safe was such a foreign feeling for her. She knew the last time she had felt safe, it was right before she was yanked back here and imprisoned in her coffin. “It’s all salvation for you, a reminder of what you got back. Heaven wasn’t some fantasy world created by a Djin.”
Dean was going to kill Sam for sharing that with her. What the hell? Was his life a fucking open book now? Did privacy mean nothing to his little brother? Maybe it was time he shared some of Sam’s more private moments to his girlfriend.
“It was perfect. No flaws that a demon makes, it was warm and safe. I was surrounded by absolute completion and love.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a shaky whisper. “Everyday here is like my own personal hell and they don’t understand. They can’t possibly know what it’s like; hell you can’t possibly know what it’s like for your salvation and freedom to mean the opposite.”
Buffy shoved away from him as large tears spilled down her cheeks. Turning, she cursed under her breath and longed for a vampire to come so she could pummel something.
“You’re killing your brother, just like what I did to Dawn. It’s not easy being the one left standing. And I get it, Gods, do I get wanting to take those risks. To capture that moment of feeling alive and to be in control even for a few seconds.” Buffy turned back to face Dean. “You’re willing to risk things because it keeps you sane, but Sam? He doesn’t understand.” A choked chuckle escaped her lips and it sounded mildly crazy, even to her own ears. “Gods, would you want him to? I don’t. I never want Dawnie to know that feeling of completion and then being torn from it. When she gets there, after a long life filled with memories and surrounded by people that love her, I want it to be that biblical eternity, a forever and ever kind of deal.”
Buffy caught his gaze and held it. “Sam doesn’t see you fighting to get back what you lost, he sees you running reckless, invincible and it scares him. The thought of losing you again makes him crazy.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re fighting a war here!” Dean stalked towards her; grabbing her arms he shook her once, his fingers biting into the flesh of her arm. “People die in war and risks need to be made to survive. If it’s a choice between Sammy listening to that fucked up Ruby and me having to stick my neck out, I choose the second.” Ruby may have come through on a few of her promises but she was still a demon and that twisted bitch was playing his brother.
“You really are a dickhead you know that? This has nothing to do with Ruby and you know it. Sam’s not pulling a Vader and going to the dark side. At least not while you’re among the living.” Buffy paused, letting the statement sink in. She wondered how long it would take before he came to her asking what the hell she meant by that.
Dean’s brows scrunched together. Millions of questions entered his mind by what the blonde meant. Millions of questions he was damn sure he didn’t want to hear and sure as hell wouldn’t be able to handle them now.
“You’re right though, this is war and people die. Hell, even priests will fight for what they believe is holy but even they understand the concept of being smart with the fights you choose and being stupid. Guess which category you’re fitting into at the moment?” Her tone was flippant and she easily shrugged out of his grasp.
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“I’ve been called much worse, Winchester.” A humorous less smirk graced her lips as she straightened out her black leather jacket and tightened her emerald green scarf around her neck. “Now, if you’re done being a complete asshole, can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.” Buffy blew out a breath that was easily visible to add to her point. Gods, she missed endless summer days. “Who knows, maybe your friend Bobby’s arrived with another mystic piece to the puzzle that is Lilith.”
The two had begun to walk back through the forest when Buffy’s face scrunched up. “Am I the only one that finds that little kid creepy as hell?”
~fin~
Completed: September 9, 2008
Author: Lisa
Status: Completed One-Shot
Rating: PG-16
Fandom: BtVS/SPN
Character(s) and/or Pairing(s): Buffy Summers/Dean Winchester
Genre: Drama/Angst/Violence
Summary: “You’re right though, this is war and people die. Hell, even priests will fight for what they believe is holy but even they understand the concept of being smart with the fights you choose and being stupid.
Challenge: Prompt #05 - Hallowed out to fit their rifles. Table #2 = Darkness. Written for Would You Still Have Fallen Marathon over at Route 66: Destination Sunnydale
Spoilers/Warnings: Season 5 & 6 of Buffy and Season 3 of Supernatural. Violence and Language.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon & ME. No infringement intended. Supernatural and all related characters are copyright of Eric Kripke. No infringement intended.
Distribution: Not without permission from myself.
AN: Thanks to both Kristi and Nicole for beta’ing this piece. I appreciate all the concrit and any mistakes are mine. xoxo
Dawn curled the fingers of her right hand into a tight fist; pulling it back she swung out, surprising the oldest Winchester. He didn’t have a chance to block her punch. A loud ‘crack’ sounded as her fist slammed into Dean’s jaw. The sound sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine and knowing he was in a bit of pain managed to ward off some of the cold. His head whipped to the side causing him to stumble backwards before he lost his footing and fell into a snow bank.
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed out loudly. The snow underneath him melted as his body sprawled over top. The taste of copper flooded his mouth and he grimaced in response. Moving his tongue slowly around his mouth, he checked for any chipped teeth and eventually found where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek causing him to bleed.
Wincing, Dawn shook her hand in protest against the stabs of pain; she’d never get use to the jarring feeling after her fist collided with the desired object.
“You’re an asshole Dean!” Her tiny voice shook with rage and even seeing him sprawled on the snow with blood trickling down his chin didn’t sooth her rampaging emotions. She wanted him to have more than just a sore jaw.
Dean pushed himself into a sitting position with one hand while the other rubbed his tender jaw. It was already starting to swell. Bending a leg, Dean rested his hand on his jean-covered knee. His green eyes narrowed as he watched the youngest Summers scowl down at him.
He wanted to call her a bitch, remind her that he wasn’t the one that had swung the first punch but the fact that Sam, his brother, had fallen in love with her held him back.
The wind picked up, blowing ice crystals in a tornado of biting cold around the small glade. After years of being away from the warmth of California, Dawn still wasn’t acclimated to the cold. The chill sunk deep into her bones, despite the several layers of cold and her cheeks were starting to numb from the breeze.
Pushing brunette waves of hair off of her face, she stalked towards him, shoulders slightly hunched while her lips pressed together. Her fists continued to clench and unclench at her sides, itching to make another violent contact with Dean’s jaw but aware that this time he’d be ready.
“You’ve got no idea what you’re putting him through. You think it’s easy being the one to be left behind? To wonder what it’s like where you are? You close your eyes at night and visions of your body being tortured are what greet him.” Large tears blurred her vision; furiously, she wiped them away with the palms of her hands and the wind bit colder in the wet trails that stained her cheeks. “To wonder, endlessly, what sort of sick sadistic sufferings you’re being put through.”
Dawn bent over Dean, her legs framing his and she grabbed the lapels of Dean’s worn leather jacket. The leather felt smooth and soft against her fingers and she tightened her grip. Rage aiding her strength, she pulled him forward, their faces inches apart. “You’re not the only victim.” She spat her words out. “Not the only one who wakes up screaming with pictures of you in hell and it’s killing him!” Her voice rose as she spoke, until she screamed at him. Her arms shook and more tears spilled out in angry frustration.
Buffy bit her lip as she watched the scene unfold, safely hidden in the shadows of the trees that surrounded the glade. She had followed her sister when she had stomped after Dean, wanting to make sure things didn’t go too far. Dawn was on the edge and Dean was acting in what she assumed was normal behavior for situations like these, stubborn and the Webster’s definition of asshole.
As Dawn’s body shook with agony Buffy pushed off the tree she’d been leaning on and crept out of the shadows and into view.
“Dawn.” Whispering her sister’s name, the sound of her voice caused a wave of regret. Even to her own ears, she could hear the apology, the one she knew Dawn didn’t feel like hearing right now. She was hurting and the words she’d slung at Dean were also meant for her. She’d caused Dawn the same pain that Sam was in and once returned, she had done some of the same things, some worse, that Dean was doing.
Dawn turned her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder and stared at her sister. Everything came flooding back and her own pain surged forward, causing her to gasp. Shoving Dean away, she turned. Her shoulders rolled back and she took a defensive stance. “It’s you.”
Buffy cringed at the tone her sister used to address her. It was cold and cutting and hadn’t been directed at her for quite a while. Her stomach churned with sickness.
“What, did you come here to show him,” she dared a glance back at Dean, “how to really do this whole return from the dead gig?”
Gritting her teeth, Buffy tried to remind herself that Dawn didn’t mean that. That she knew that’s not the reason she was here, but it still hurt. Still hurt knowing that Dawn had so much anger inside and that Dean had pushed the past forward.
“I’m sure there’s a few tricks you can teach him.” A few strides ate up the distance between the two Summers before Dawn stalked past Buffy and into the shadows.
Buffy stayed frozen in place, listening, hearing what she knew Dean couldn’t. Her sister reached Sam about a hundred yards from the glade and only when their voices disappeared did she dare look at the hunter still slumped in the snow. Walking forward, her boots crunched through the top layer of snow that was almost more ice than snow before it sunk down, and she held out her hand.
Hesitating only a moment, Dean reached up and took the proffered hand. Her fingers wrapped around his and he leeched the warmth from them, reminding him how damn cold it was out here.
“Your sisters got a decent right hook, Summers.”
A small smile of pride couldn’t be hidden and caused the corner of her lips to curl upwards. In the last couple of years, Dawn had become adept at handling herself. She no longer was that gangly teenager that tripped over her own feet or that was always in need of being rescued. Years of being on the front lines of a constant war had taught her a few things. Buffy regretted the cause of that growth.
Dean spat out more blood; the crimson stained the white snow creating blossoms of blood.
“She’s right you know. You are being an ass.” Buffy lifted her gaze to meet his own angry one.
His eyes rolled back as he shook his head. “Stay out of it.” Dean moved to pass the blonde but an arm shot out and held him in place. With a forceful yank he managed to pull his arm free from her vice grip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, cause I know nothing about being brought back from the dead?” Buffy raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms across her chest.
“You’re kidding me right? You’re comparing your stint in heaven with my all expense paid stay in hell?” Jaw clenched from anger, he flipped her off. What the hell did Little Miss Blonde know about being stuck in fucking hell for more then two days? “Fuck you, Summers.”
Buffy took a step back, as though she’d been physical struck. Eyes widened in shock as she reeled in his callous comment. Within seconds the shock wore off and her body took an offensive stance.
He sneered back at her, his eyes narrowed full of both pleasure and anger. “What? Pissed off that someone finally had the balls to tell you to get over that?” He wasn’t about to be reprimanded by a chick he didn’t even know. He didn’t care if his brother was doing her sister; she’d pissed him off.
In less than a second, Buffy reached out, grabbed his jacket and hauled him forward. His head flung back from the unexpected movement. The smell of aged whiskey clung on his breath and stale smoke seeped off his clothing. Neither smell surprised her. She was well aware of the Winchesters love for seedy bars and honky-tonk’s. “I was going to do this the nice way.” She gritted out the words before spinning them both around and shoving him against the nearest tree, hard. The snow that clung to the trees’ branches fell from the impact and landed on their shoulders before sliding off.
The air was knocked out of him and he gasped for air. Eyes watered as he chocked for the breath she’d stolen from him. He struggled to break free but she held him still, reminding him once again about her freaky ass strength.
“You were rescued.” She snarled out the words and as he tried to squirm away, in response she pushed him harder against the trunk. “I was damned. Everything around you, the sun on your face, the cold breeze, Gods, even driving that car feels safe.” Safe was such a foreign feeling for her. She knew the last time she had felt safe, it was right before she was yanked back here and imprisoned in her coffin. “It’s all salvation for you, a reminder of what you got back. Heaven wasn’t some fantasy world created by a Djin.”
Dean was going to kill Sam for sharing that with her. What the hell? Was his life a fucking open book now? Did privacy mean nothing to his little brother? Maybe it was time he shared some of Sam’s more private moments to his girlfriend.
“It was perfect. No flaws that a demon makes, it was warm and safe. I was surrounded by absolute completion and love.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a shaky whisper. “Everyday here is like my own personal hell and they don’t understand. They can’t possibly know what it’s like; hell you can’t possibly know what it’s like for your salvation and freedom to mean the opposite.”
Buffy shoved away from him as large tears spilled down her cheeks. Turning, she cursed under her breath and longed for a vampire to come so she could pummel something.
“You’re killing your brother, just like what I did to Dawn. It’s not easy being the one left standing. And I get it, Gods, do I get wanting to take those risks. To capture that moment of feeling alive and to be in control even for a few seconds.” Buffy turned back to face Dean. “You’re willing to risk things because it keeps you sane, but Sam? He doesn’t understand.” A choked chuckle escaped her lips and it sounded mildly crazy, even to her own ears. “Gods, would you want him to? I don’t. I never want Dawnie to know that feeling of completion and then being torn from it. When she gets there, after a long life filled with memories and surrounded by people that love her, I want it to be that biblical eternity, a forever and ever kind of deal.”
Buffy caught his gaze and held it. “Sam doesn’t see you fighting to get back what you lost, he sees you running reckless, invincible and it scares him. The thought of losing you again makes him crazy.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re fighting a war here!” Dean stalked towards her; grabbing her arms he shook her once, his fingers biting into the flesh of her arm. “People die in war and risks need to be made to survive. If it’s a choice between Sammy listening to that fucked up Ruby and me having to stick my neck out, I choose the second.” Ruby may have come through on a few of her promises but she was still a demon and that twisted bitch was playing his brother.
“You really are a dickhead you know that? This has nothing to do with Ruby and you know it. Sam’s not pulling a Vader and going to the dark side. At least not while you’re among the living.” Buffy paused, letting the statement sink in. She wondered how long it would take before he came to her asking what the hell she meant by that.
Dean’s brows scrunched together. Millions of questions entered his mind by what the blonde meant. Millions of questions he was damn sure he didn’t want to hear and sure as hell wouldn’t be able to handle them now.
“You’re right though, this is war and people die. Hell, even priests will fight for what they believe is holy but even they understand the concept of being smart with the fights you choose and being stupid. Guess which category you’re fitting into at the moment?” Her tone was flippant and she easily shrugged out of his grasp.
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“I’ve been called much worse, Winchester.” A humorous less smirk graced her lips as she straightened out her black leather jacket and tightened her emerald green scarf around her neck. “Now, if you’re done being a complete asshole, can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.” Buffy blew out a breath that was easily visible to add to her point. Gods, she missed endless summer days. “Who knows, maybe your friend Bobby’s arrived with another mystic piece to the puzzle that is Lilith.”
The two had begun to walk back through the forest when Buffy’s face scrunched up. “Am I the only one that finds that little kid creepy as hell?”
~fin~
Completed: September 9, 2008