Characters Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane; Dean Winchester
Pairings: Dean/Buffy, mention of Buffy/Spike
Spoilers: Buffy (post Not fade Away, ignoring the comics), SPN (after 502)
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Supernatural belong to their respective creators.
A/N: Thanks to light the spark for the beta, couldn’t have done it without her
Summary: Buffy isn't usually the type for one night stands, so is it any wonder that the one time she chose to go for it, the guy was rather memorable?
When Buffy saw the man grabbing a stool at the bar, she couldn’t help a full body blush. Faith noticed and Buffy quickly looked away from her and the predatory look in her sister slayer’s eyes. She took a sip from her beer and came close to spitting it right out again. Then she took another swallow and swirled her chair around. Her hand brushed through her hair as she took a good look of him.
Dean. She didn’t know his last name, he’d never given it, and if he had, she doubted she’d remember it. She’d been too drunk, too drenched in booze and grief to remember much of anything. Except maybe those arms holding her, almost keeping up with her. She remembered those eyes, and the way he’d played with her hair even after she accidentally screamed the wrong name when she came.
She’d been using him, and she’d admitted freely to it. He said he didn’t mind. “Sweetheart, if a pretty girl wants to use my hot body, then who am I to say no?”
She’d chuckled. It wasn’t even all that funny, but he’d given her a leer and a wink and it just looked so damn ridiculous that she almost fell over laughing.
“So who is he?” Faith asked, clearly interested, and slightly opening her legs as she sat there, inviting all comers. The look in her eyes scared anyone not strong enough to handle her, which was most of the guys in the bar.
“Just a guy.”
“A guy I slept with, a few years back.”
“So what was he? Vampire, demon, werewolf?”
Buffy almost wrung her neck. “Just a guy, Faith. I do date normal guys.” Like every once and a while.
Buffy was about to say Riley, but Faith didn’t wait for her. Instead she turned to the bartender and told him to give Dean a drink from Buffy.
Buffy would have sunk right through the floor, it it weren’t so filthy.
“So? Did he make you scream?”
And here was the blush again. “Repeatedly.” Like she hadn’t done since Spike died. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t say his name out loud.
Faith whistled and pulled the attention of all the men in the room that hadn’t been staring at her from the start. Including Dean, who’d just gotten his beer. He picked up the bottle and started coming over. Buffy wished she could just run away. But Faith had the keys. She could so drive, really. Just because she’d had an accident or two, maybe three,… with Giles car. Didn’t mean that he was allowed to revoke her driving privileges.
“Well,… hello there?” It wasn’t a question and Buffy figured he’d probably barely remember her. His attention switched to Faith, who gave back as good as she got, letting him peek at her boobs just long enough before she picked up her glass and licked around the rim to call his attention to her face.
Buffy shivered. She barely even knew the guy. They’d had one night, over four years ago. But she’d always been possessive, about any men she slept with. Even when she knew the score.
It was only then that he gave her another look. He seemed confused about something. Buffy unconsciously brushed her fingers through her hair. She was wearing her natural hair color for the first time in years. She still wasn’t used to the black.
“Hi.” And there it was, that look in his eyes. The one that had made her open her legs the first time around. That look that said ‘I’m hot, and I know what to do with my lips, want to give me a try, or are you stepping out with regrets for the rest of your life.’ And yes, she was all too aware just how much she attributed to one look. But damn it, he’d been good for it.
“Now this is a nice surprise.” And then he looked over at Faith, and then back at her and God, she’d swear it lasted less than a second, but she was almost willing to slap him for it. “So who’s your ‘friend’?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Dean, you’re good, but you’re not ‘that’ good.’” She leered back and hoped it didn’t look too innocent. He didnn’t seem to mind.
“Oh baby, if she’s even half as good as you were, it might very well kill me. But man would I die happy.”
“Think you can handle us, do you big boy.” Buffy recognized that half smirk on Faith’s face. It was the one that said: ‘I can see right through you and there’s no way you’d actually go for me, but I’m going to have fun embarrassing Buffy anyway.’
Buffy was starting to worry how good she was getting at this, she probably spent too much time looking at Faith working the room. And too little doing anything other than staring at Faith or her glass. That was the real reason she started sputtering when Faith blew Dean a kiss and left her alone with him. She wasn’t ‘that’ needy. Really. And she didn’t need her friend, was that what Faith was now, getting her laid, just because she hadn’t seriously dated anyone since the Immortal in Rome.
She was still embarrassed about that one.
Buffy grumbled under her breath as Faith went up to some guy in biker gear at the other side of the room, abandoning her with a man who knew every part of her body, but not much else. He seemed to notice the mood and looked around. “So how’ve you been?” he finally said. It was a surprisingly straightforward question with a not so easy answer.
“Busy.” It was probably the best way to describe it, without going into the whole organizing a Slayer army thing. “How about you?”
“The same.” Yep, still just as quiet about what he actually did. She’d wondered about that, after she noticed him put his gun back into his belt as he was getting dressed. Not that she minded his silence, it kept her from having to explain about the mystical dagger and the stake she’d been hiding in her purse.
“You know”, he smirked at her and leaned over to her with his drink still in his hands, “this really shouldn’t be all that bad. We’ve already been through the hard part.”
That they had. Buffy blushed again. Sometimes she really hated her body.
“So what do you say, your room or mine?” And there you had it, the sheer arrogance of it.
“You really haven’t got a clue, do you?”
That look, ‘who me?’, like a little kid, a little sex crazed kid. You couldn’t hate him for it. Buffy just ordered a bottle of Scotch, knowing she was going to need it. A bunch of guys loudly entered the bar and Buffy looked up as she noticed something setting off her senses. Faith had stopped dancing and was eyeing the newcomers as well. Weirdly enough, so was Dean.
The music stopped. “Well what do you know. You really aren’t that hard to find.”
Buffy could feel them change, the demons inside of them rising. She knew that to everyone else, everyone who wasn’t a slayer or hadn’t grown up on a Hellmouth, they’d still look the same, except that their eyes would turn black. Not to her though, she could see the green skin and gigantic jaw filled with fangs. Demons.
She got up from her chair and took a step forward, sharing a look with Faith.
“Just great.” She heard Dean say. “What the hell do you bastards want?” Buffy looked back at him curiously.
“Just your death, Winchester.” Dean snarled; Buffy could almost feel the tension. “And once we’re through with you, we’ll have our fun with the girl.”
“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”
But the demons were already staring at her. Buffy glared at their leader, clearly spotting him by th difference in the size of their horns. Then she pulled a knife from behind her back. “Well, it’s worth the try. I’ve been dying to give this new dagger a work out.”
“Buffy, no!” Sweet, he was actually trying to protect her.
“Think you can play, do you.” The dimmer one of the demons said, before one of his buddies pulled him back.
“Are you crazy?” He was visibly shaking. “I’m sorry, Slayer, we didn’t know.”
Buffy smiled as the demon currently referred to as Gort, tried to back away.
“It’s the Slayer!”
The first demon still didn’t get it. Dean gave her a look, but was pulling out his own gun. She doubted it would do a thing with these demons, but if it made him feel better…
“But it’s Winchester. If we bring his head to Lucifer, the reward…”
“Won’t be worth spit”, Faith stated. “Let’s see, there’s three of you and well, two of us. How high do you rate your chances?” The way she smiled as she said this made the threat clearer than any actual violence could have done. Yet the stupid demon still didn’t get it.
One slice and a bit of salt later and they were left with the somewhat smarter remaining two, who backed off wisely and ran for the hills.
Buffy had nothing left to do but check her fingernails.
“Slayer?” The first thing she noticed was that Dean hadn’t put away his gun, the second was the clear distrust covering his face.
“Slayer comma the, as in Slayer of demons, vampires and other sorts of monsters. It’s kinda a calling.”
“They were actually more scared of you two two than of me? Now that takes some doing.”
“It’s a gift.”
“We need a drink.” Faith patted him on the shoulder as if comforting him for the loss of status. Dean cringed for a second before smiling back and putting away his gun. The demon’s human host was on the floor. Buffy hated it when they did that. At least the demons in Sunnydale tended to have the decency to reduce to slime once slayed.
Manners, it was a dying breed.
Apparently so was the inability to hold one’s liquor. Why did she keep falling for men who could keep up with her and beyond?
And no, it wasn’t her fault she was drunk after half a bottle. She’d been working on it, really. They’d left the bar two hours ago, leaving behind half a dozen horrified civilians. Faith said she’d take care of the body. Buffy wasn’t even sure what to say to that. Things were so much simpler back home. Back when she hadn’t realized that every demon she killed had a host body, an innocent person that she killed along with it.
Side effect of the Hellmouth, and of seeing reality, rather than the masked world that most of the rest of humanity walked around in. It made it easier for the Watchers; not telling their Slayers the truth. Disposing of bodies was a watcher’s job after all.
Dean followed her into her motel room and threw her the bottle at her as she sat down on the bed. She watched him carefully as he took of his jacket.
Buffy kicked off her shoes; the damn things should have been classified as torture devices years ago. Dean sat down next to her on the bed, legs wide open.
“So you kill demons?” he asked. “Should have guessed you were a Hunter.”
Buffy didn’t correct him. She shivered as she remembered the one ‘Hunter’ she’d met. The one she had to beat up when he tried to murder Oz a second time. She wondered how much she could tell the Dean. If he was a Hunter, what would stop him from coming after her friends? Would he think Willow was a threat? Or what about Clem and Lorne?
“What about you? What did those demons want with you?”
He sighed. “The usual, revenge, killing me before I can go after them. Stopping me from killing the devil.”
Buffy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. You couldn’t kill the devil. Whether it called itself the First or Satan or Lucifer, all you could do was face it. Killing it was beyond even a Slayer’s ability.
“It’s some stupid prophecy.” And that said it all, didn’t it.
She hated prophecies, so instead of answering she climbed on top of him and settled in his lap. He didn’t wait a second to respond. Two hours later they were laying side by side, sprawled all over the bed and she was scraping her fingernails over his chest, staring at the new tattoo.
“So what happened to your scars?” There were some new ones, but she couldn’t help notice that several of the old ones had faded as if they’d never been there.
“Died, went to hell, was brought back to life by an angel.” It was said in a voice that sounded somewhat exhausted. She couldn’t help but smile. She’d done that.
“And he didn’t even bother to dig you out of your grave first, right?”, She said, “Been there, done that. It’s so hard to get all the gravedirt out from beneath your nails.”
He stared at her. “You met an angel?”
“No, someone …” a friend, best friend, someone as close to me as a sister, “a witch, brought me back to life. Pulled me right out of heaven.”
“That sucks.” He said, sitting up and pulling her along with him as they kissed. “Did you get her?”
Did she? Willow was still healing, still recovering from the damage she had done to herself when she’d brought Buffy back to life. The young witch might never get over it. “She was just trying to help me. She thought I was in hell.”
She could see the shiver running over him, could feel it as he held her. Someone he cared about would have done the same thing for him. She was glad that he hadn’t needed it. “She wasn’t… isn’t evil”, she insisted.
“Not all witches are evil.” She insisted. “A lot of them are nice, decent people.”
“Who make deals with demons and go around messing with bodily fluids. Sure.” He pulled away and got up, walking over to the window.
“She doesn’t make deals with demons.” Buffy stayed on the bed, and hugged her legs, trying not to think about how her friend had gone dark eyed after Tara died.
“Oh really? Then tell me Buffy, who responds to her spells? Who answers her magic? Because it sure as hell isn’t God.”
“I’m sorry.” Buffy crossed her arms in front of her. He didn’t even look turn her way. “I’m sure she’s a friend. “ She could see his hands forming fists. ”But if I were you, I’d tell her to stop doing it. Magic, it’s not something humans should be messing around with.”
“It’s not…” He interrupted her before she could finish.
“It doesn’t matter why she thinks she’s using it, or what good she thinks it can do. It’s evil. It’ll only pull her down, drag her in the pit, until she’s as dark eyed as those other son of a bitches down there and comes clawing back up for vengeance.”
“And you’d know?”
The worst was that he finally looked back at her, and she saw it in his eyes. The truth, the pain, she wished she’d never looked.
“Some things… should never be touched.”Simple words that send shivers down her spine and made her think of a cold grave, of dark eyes and dark hair looking at her in hate.
“I won’t let you hurt her.” I will kill you before I let you do that, she didn’t say. It didn’t need to be said.
“Then stop her, because if you don’t, someone will.”
And they stood face to face now. She on the bed, he at the window, both naked except for their scars. “It isn’t always black and white, good and evil, Dean. There’s more to the world than that.”
“Not in my experience.”
So she covered herself in the blanket and he picked up his clothes and got dressed. She wondered what he’d say about the demonic part of the Slayer, about the vampire who gave his life to save the world, about the werewolf who struggled for his humanity. She wished she could talk about redemption, about love and hope and freedom. About free will and choices. But she couldn’t tell him that.
He looked back one last time before he left the room. It left her alone in a bed meant for two. She covered herself under the blankets. Picking up her phone, she looked over the list of her friends, called her sister and smiled.
She’d never realized just how much hope her life had really had.