Status: Completed Stand-Alone
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Fandom: Supernatural/BtVS crossover
Summary: These people had their own secrets that they were trying to hide from the world and he was no different… he wanted her.
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.
Distribution: Not without permission from myself.
AN: Written for “La Mala Hora Marathon” that is feat. On Route 66: Destination Sunnydale. Big thanks to Dani, not only beta’ing this but for also urging me to push through my stubborn muse and write it. Thanks for all your encouragement and kind words. xoxo
He was pissed off and the beer he had pounded didn’t do a damned thing to cool his anger or ease the tension that was coiling inside of him. “Whiskey sour - two of ‘em.” Dean ordered, his slight accent lost under the rifts of the classic rock music that played in the background. He slammed down some bills on the old wooden bar, barely missing the small puddle of spilt beer.
The dingy bar smelt like bourbon, smoke and cheap women. It was your typical small town bar; he’d seen dozens of these shit holes and they all looked the same. Despite the stench and lack of any class, he was drawn to them. Sammy would complain every time he parked his sleek black Impala behind one. His brother had spent too much time in some stuffy college being told he was better than the blue-collar worker.
Dean liked being in places like these; it was here that he was in his element. These bars had been a constant in his fucked up life. No matter what rural town they stayed at the bars were all the same. All these people had their own secrets that they were trying to hide from the world and he was no different. Hell, he might be a lot prettier than the rest of them but he was still hiding.
Nodding his thanks to the bartender, he picked up the two drinks and headed back to their table that was tucked in a dark corner. Tonight he didn’t feel like mingling with the rest of them, tonight he wanted to get shit faced and deal with everything tomorrow. Everything, being the blonde that was currently bent over a pool table trying to learn how to hustle a game from Sam.
His eyes traveled over her body, starting from the modern cowboy boots up along to the pleated mini jean skirt that showed off her nice long tanned legs. She leaned further over the table and he could see just a hint of the bluish green tattoo that was embossed on her lower back as her white tank top rose with her movements. She tried to line up her shot, pausing every few seconds to push her curled blonde hair out of her pale green eyes. He wanted her and that pissed him off more than the bruise he'd gotten that earlier night.
He picked up the first Whiskey Sour and drank it in one shot. The pungent liquor burned a trail down his throat causing him to wince until he felt the familiar warmth hit his gut. He motioned to the waitress with his empty glass, “keep ‘em coming!”
It was the damn demon’s fault. If it hadn’t shown up when it did and schooled them in the fight he wouldn’t be this aggravated. He’d been fine ignoring everything his brother had already known; he had it bad for the blonde Slayer who had joined up with them back in Elgin, Illinois. She was gorgeous and could match him in any verbal battle. When she fought he had to restrain himself from admitting that she was his ideal girl. There was no way he would admit that fact. He had a fucking plan and it didn’t include becoming fate’s bitch. Sure, fate had shoved them together, but that didn’t mean he was going to taste the bait, even if she was smokin’ hot.
Tonight was supposed to be simple; it was Halloween the night of no evil. ‘Course then Buffy had to go and mention that it was a misnomer; demons liked Halloween just as much as any other night. All he’d wanted to do was go in and kill the evil son of a bitch and then move on. The current dive they were holed up at was in Bend, Oregon and this whole town freaked him the fuck out with their happy smiles and Doris Day attitudes; it wasn’t normal.
They’d been tracking a demon that was trying to bring forth its master by killing off orphans. Things had gone fine until Buffy had pissed it off. Big surprise there. That damn woman was good at pissing off the male species, Dean mused as he lifted his drink to his lips. He had gone into a blind rage when the demon started roughing up Buffy. It was a stupid ass move, he realized now, but he’d jumped in the fray without thinking. He’d earned a couple of bruised ribs along with a nice shiner for his efforts.
But what really caused his overly sour mood, aside from his aching body, was Buffy. As soon as they had gotten into his car she had reamed into him about being stupid and not thinking before he jumped in a fight. They had argued the whole ride back to the motel where Sammy was held up doing more research. The woman was the most stubborn bull headed person that he’d ever met, besides his father.
Sam must have picked up on the ‘I hate you’ vibes and had suggested going out for a bit. Buffy had jumped at the idea, hopping in the shower to get ready. Her dismissal towards him, and their argument, had left him more pissed off then the lecture she'd given him. Who in the fuck did she think she was telling him how to fight?
Dean clenched the glass in his hand at the memory and finished off the contents just as the waitress set down another two in front of him along with a bowl of peanuts.
“Rough night handsome?” She purred with a thick southern drawl.
Dean eyed the busty brunette as she leaned over the table. She bent over further, resting her elbows on the hard surface to give him a perfect show of her cleavage while effectively blocking his view of the blonde he couldn’t get out of his head. Dean curved his head to the side, spotting Buffy from behind the tight swell of the waitress’ ass. She was stealing a glance at him, and Dean smirked arrogantly when she clenched her jaw. It was a trait that he was familiar with; she was upset. He leaned back in his chair, overtly pleased at pissing off the Slayer, and smiled fully at the brunette.
“Rough and long,” He winked at her as he picked up the drink she’d set in front of him.
After the hell Buffy had unleashed on him the right thing was to give a little payback. Buffy hated when they were out and the girls would flock around him. Sam told him it was because she liked him, but he was convinced it was the whole feminist in her that caused her to fume the way she was doing now. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Buffy muttered something before she turned her attention back to his younger brother.
It wasn’t her fault that Dean was an ass seventy-five percent of the time. He was cocky and arrogant and damn it! Why did his stupid ‘I’m Dean and always right’ smirk have to send her over the edge into a frenzy of lust? It wasn’t natural. Maybe it’d be natural if it were a smile that he only gave her or a little hidden caress, but a smirk full of I told you so’s was just wrong.
Buffy was aware that Dean was pissed off. It was impossible to miss his body language that shouted ‘fuck off’. His anger was directed at her, but he could’ve been hurt. He shouldn’t have just lunged at a freakishly strong demon for whatever the reasoning was. His reasoning was a whole other issue that she wanted to talk to him about. What would possess him to attack without thinking?
She was positive he would give her some Dean answer like ‘not gonna let you have all the fun’ or something as ridiculously stupid. Yet that nagging girl voice inside of her mind couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t want her to get hurt. Of course that was just plain crazy thinking. Dean Winchester had utterly no interest in her other than as a sparring partner and someone to annoy. He was her proverbial thorn in her ass and he enjoyed that role too much for her liking.
Her intention wasn’t to make him all sourly and grouchy, but she had been worried. Since she had come to the realization that she was seriously jonesing for Dean, worry was fast becoming her new name. Watching a six-foot something demon pound into the guy you more than like isn’t a comforting feeling. Of course he had taken it completely the wrong way and as normal they had spent the rest of the night either arguing or not talking, which was the current holding pattern they were in.
Buffy had even picked a sexy but not too obvious outfit to try and make nice with him. Whenever she had felt his stare she’d bent over the pool table a little more than required to tease and taunt him, yet nothing. He hadn’t come over and flirted, as he often did. Instead some waitress was now occupying his time and blocking his view with her faux cleavage.
“He’s just trying to tick you off. You know that.” Sam gave her hand a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure her.
“Yeah sure… I mean why should I care what he does or who he sleeps with or that-that he’ll get some new undiscovered STD by floozy mc-floozy over there.” Her face wrinkled in disgust as the waitress leaned closer into Dean.
“Gods, could she be less tactful?” Buffy unclenched her jaw only to have it clench back up as she heard Dean’s chuckle faintly over the music.
Buffy watched as the waitress trailed her vapid blue nails along Dean’s arm, “I need a drink.” Buffy tossed her pool queue at Sam before she started to push through the drunken patrons towards the bar.
She stood next to the man that was ordering while she waited her turn. She smiled at the bartender who gave her an annoyed scowl.
“What’ll it be?”
She nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to decide what to order and it was the image of Dean with the waitress plastered up against him that made up her mind. “What the hell… four shots of tequila.”
If Dean planned on messing around with the local trash, then she was going to need the night’s subsequent images to be foggy.
She dared another glance at Dean. The floozy was gone, but if history did repeat itself there would be another willing girl there in five minutes. She hated that it hurt her so much that he would choose to flirt with them instead of her. Sam had explained the whole Cassie situation one night while the two of them were holed up doing research while Dean slept. Didn’t Dean understand that she wasn’t about to be freaked out by his choice of occupation; she was practically president of the freak society.
Buffy turned and looked at the bartender, confusion marring her brows. “Uh?”
“You owe me twenty-three, hurry up there sugar I’ve got other patrons waiting.” His heavy accent laced the word sugar causing Buffy to shudder.
“Just put it on that guys tab.” Buffy pointed in the direction of Dean and smiled at the bartender. “Paybacks a bitch.”
She grabbed a tray and put the shots along with the saltshaker and lemon wedges on it. She turned to leave and smacked into a firm chest. “Shit.”
“Princess, watch were you walk.” Dean eyed the shots; apparently the Slayer had the same plan he did. She was gonna be a hellcat the next morning though.
He couldn’t help but to take a few steps forward until she was backed up against the bar. He moved his hands to her sides, blocking her escape. “Who are the shots for? You know Sammy can’t handle anything stronger than light beer.” He smirked as he watched her face flush slightly.
“I was going to ask that guy over there if he felt like doing some body shots. Seems like tonight’s the night to get some action. Where’s your latest toy by the way?”
Dean tried to control his temper as he looked behind him trying to spot the guy he was going to have to fight later. He scowled as he watched some blonde looking surfer talking to Sam. His jaw clenched as he turned his attention back to the blonde that was daring him to say something with those pout-y lips. He wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. “Latest toy? Jealous princess? You know if you wanted some quality Dean time all you have to do is ask.”
He watched as she scowled at him and he smiled widely in response. How could she look so good when she was ready to fight him? It was a large reason why he liked to get her pissed off just for that look.
He grabbed the tray out of her hands and stuck it back on top of the wooden bar. He picked up the saltshaker and smiled at her.
“So the princess wants to do body shots. It just so happens, that I’m the reigning champion.” He winked before he moved her golden hair behind her shoulder to expose her long elegant neck. He inched closer and felt her shiver as his warm breath hit her neck.
“I’ll go first.” He whispered.