Disclaimer: I don't own them. Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon and the Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke. I'm only borrowing them. The dialogue in Buffy's memory flashes is taken directly from episodes of season 7. The story's title was inspired by a line from Mary Lou Von Meter's poem, Heart of Darkness
Author's Note: This is in response to chosenfire's Memories Forgotten challenge at Route 66. Hopefully, I can make this work since it's my first time writing a crossover between these two shows (and only my second time writing the Supernatural
characters). And yes, I suck at summaries. So, enjoy and feedback is always welcome! ^_^
There was no rage left inside her as she stared down at the bodies. Vaguely, she recognized the fact that she knew these young women. She’d fought with them, side by side, she’d become their friend.
Now there was nothing.
She searched inside herself, wondering where the anger, the grief, the loss was. She knew she should be feeling those but instead all she felt was an emptiness that mirrored the look in those dead eyes.
She let out a shuddering breath, the shouting in the background fading as memories swirled, ones that she knew were from a time not too long ago. “’Cause the black chick always gets it first?”
Another breath and she turned, beginning to walk away. She had to tell someone about this, she had to tell them so they could take care of the girls, so they could fight the demons. “Careful, Buffy. Just when you think it’s part of the lesson, he’ll hurt your arm.”
She just wished she remembered who.
Blankly, she shook her head, pushing her hair away. She’d go and find someone. Anyone at this point would be good help.
The sound of a furious roar had her spinning, dropping automatically into a fighter’s stance.
Yeah, help would be good now.~*~*~
“So what’s this thing look like again?” Sam asked as he scanned the area around him for some sign of the demon he and Dean were hunting.
“Ugly.” Dean paused, glancing down an alley. When he saw nothing, he kept going. “And it’s a giant.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s helpful, Dean.”
“What do you expect me to say, Sam? It likes long walks on the beach and bubble baths so we’ll probably find it at the drug store?”
“Well, that’d give us a place to start. Come on, I know you’ve got some idea on what it looks like.”
“Tall, sharp claws, grey and in serious need of some anti-wrinkle cream.” He raised an eyebrow. “Better?”
Rather than answer, Sam tensed. “Dean,” he said, breaking into a run. Dean didn’t hesitate, double checking his shotgun as he ran after him. The sounds of a fight could be heard up ahead and judging by the sounds, at least one of the fighters wasn’t human. The sound of a woman crying out, followed by a dull thud cut off any other thoughts Dean might have had about the situation. Adrenaline surged through him as he pushed himself to go faster.
“Hey,” he shouted as he slid to a stop to find the demon standing over the body of a blonde woman. The demon paused at the sound and Dean took advantage of the moment, pulling the trigger and watching with satisfaction as the demon staggered back a couple steps. His eyes darted to the woman and then to Sam. “You got this?”
Sam nodded, gesturing to the machete he carried before lifting his own gun. “Yeah,” was all he said before he fired another shot, pushing the demon back a few more steps.
Dean moved forward, picking the woman up and moving her out of range of the demon, just as Sam shot the demon once more, this time in the head. Guess we didn’t need that machete after all
, he thought before he glanced down at the woman he was holding, studying her.
She was hot, no doubt about that. Different circumstances and Dean knew he would have definitely hit on her. But at the moment, all he could see was a young woman who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Blood flowed from a cut high on her forehead and he knew without a doubt that that had been the thud they’d heard. Her clothes were dirty and he wondered if she’d been the one trying to fight it or if she’d tried to run while someone or something else had fought the demon.
“We left the first aid kit in the car,” he said with a frown as he brushed a strand of her hair back. Sam’s eyebrow rose at the move but he didn’t say anything, choosing to nod instead.
“Yeah. Come on, let’s get her cleaned up.” He paused and glanced around, a frown on his face. Dean shifted his grip on the woman, gaze skimming over the area.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just…I’ve got a bad feeling about this place, that’s all. Let’s get out of here.”
Jaw clenched, Dean nodded. He didn’t know what the hell Sam was sensing but he’d learned not to argue with him when he got like this. Especially since the last time he’d argued, they’d almost gotten eaten.~*~*~ “It’s out there. It’s hurting my friends. I’ll find it.”
There was a knock on the door and she opened it to a beloved face, one she hadn’t seen in too long.
“Buffy,” he said. Relief flooded her.
“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes,” a low voice encouraged. She turned her head, felt the gentle swipe of a wet towel and fought to hold onto the memories swirling through her mind. “You get near Xander and I will end you.”
The preacher shoved a desk to the side, easily dodging her kicks and picking her up so that they were eye to eye.
“I’m going to find such sweet pleasure in taming you.”
The window shattered as she flew through it, slamming against the wall.
She moaned, a frown appearing on her face as she turned her head in the opposite direction.
Above her, the voice made calming noises and she felt the cool pressure of the towel again. “Don’t be afraid…to lead them.” Her voice was shredded, she was fighting to hold in tears that even now welled in her eyes and slowly trailed down her cheeks. “Whether you wanted it or not, their lives are yours. It’s going to get harder. Protect them. But…lead them.”
A sound of distress escaped her and her hand shot out, seeking something, anything to hold onto, and she felt a bit of relief when her hand encountered solid muscle beneath denim and then a warm hand was covering hers. “People die. You lead them into battle, they die. No matter how smart you are, or how ready, war is about death. Needless, stupid death.”
She whimpered and the hand over hers squeezed even as the voice urged her to wake up, to open her eyes. The brunette on the bed looked at her with more understanding between them than there had been in years. Maybe more than there had been ever, she didn’t know. “Okay, the point? Me, by myself all the time, and looking at you, everything you have and…I don’t know, jealous. Then there I am, everybody looking to me, trusting me to lead them…” She paused and a haunted look crossed her face. “And I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life.”
She looked down. “Yeah.”
“And that’s you every day, isn’t it?”
There was a bond between them as she looked up. “I love my friends and I’m grateful for them, but yeah. That’s the price.”
She gasped and opened her eyes. A man sat on the bed next to her, looking down at her with concern in his eyes.
“Here,” he said, reaching out for a glass of water. She smiled lightly as she pushed herself up to take a drink. Neither of them said anything as she took the glass and took a drink, letting the water soothe her throat. Once she had done that, he grinned a bit. “I’m Dean. My brother, Sam, he went out to get some aspirin for you.”
She nodded. “I’m…” She paused, searching her mind. “I’m Buffy.”
Dean’s lips twitched. “Buffy.” He glanced back at the door and then turned back to her, stroking a thumb over the back of her hand. “You live near here? Or have someone you can call, family or something?”
Buffy opened her mouth to answer and stopped, frowning. She thought back over what she knew and sucked in a breath, fingers curling into a fist.
There was nothing there. Nothing, just a big black hole where she knew memories should be.
Her eyes, when they met Dean’s, were confused and afraid. “I don’t know,” she breathed.