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Break Me Out

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This story is No. 4 in the series "The Younger Mother". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Buffy and the boys finally find John. Then they decide it's time to take out the demon.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Buffy-Centered > Pairing: John WinchesterBerserkerNWFR1847,67141814,8248 Jan 074 Jan 09Yes

Chapter One

Before I get any further with this, I would like to state that I own nothing. The songs in each chapter belong to their owners, Buffy belongs to Whedon, and Supernatural belongs to... Kripke? Anyway, I am making no profit off of this story, and only own the basic plot/idea.

My confidence is draining
My happiness is raining down on me
My ego is craving
Without you, I'm falling

A step in the door,
Can you hear me calling?
Darling forgive me
Darling, darling, forgive

Will you break me out?

-- “Break Me Out” by Trapt


Buffy felt a determined look settle on her face, squared her shoulders, and raised her hand to knock. A minute passed and nothing happened. She knocked again.

“What?” John nearly shouted as he ripped the door open. His eyes widened and his face paled when he saw the scene outside his door.


“Evening, Johnny,” Buffy chirped. “Remember me?” She heard Dean choke behind her, and caught Willow and Sam’s muffled giggles. Her attention, however, was riveted on the tall, dark, bearded man staring at her in shock. His brown eyes widened even further in his tanned face when Buffy smiled at him; the same smile she had used roughly twenty-seven years ago when she told him about Dean’s impending arrival. That smile showed joy mixed with fear; hope combined with hesitancy.

“Mary,” he breathed. “How?”

“It’s a long story that’s probably better if we saved it until we got inside. I, for one, am not looking for another all-expenses paid vacation to the loony bin.” John could only nod dumbly and step away from the door while his long-deceased wife calmly ushered in their sons and a young redheaded woman. Mary looked so much like she did before she died. Blonde hair hung just past her shoulders, green eyes big and smiling; the only thing different was the way she moved. He remembered that she had always had an almost unearthly grace, but now it seemed almost lethal.

Everyone was moved into the hotel room and seated. John greeted his sons on autopilot, wincing at the sharp look he caught from his wife after the boys had settled themselves on the far bed. Mary and the redhead she introduced as Willow each took a seat in the chairs, indicating that John should sit on the remaining bed. Mary moved her chair closer to him and took one of his hands in her own.

“We have a lot to talk about, Johnny.” He nodded his agreement, still off-balance from the past few minutes. “I’m going to tell you what happened to me, and then you’re going to explain your treatment of our sons since I died.” He knew he was in the doghouse when he heard the steely edge in her voice. “But first, I have a question. Have you been crying?” He let out a choked laugh when she titled her head to the side and asked the question. Then her question registered and he dropped his head, running his free hand over his face.

“I just got a call on my way into town,” he answered. He glanced at his boys, who were watching the interaction between their parents curiously. “The… the demon who killed you… it killed a good friend of mine.” He saw Sam sit up quickly and Dean blinking his eyes furiously. Every one of John’s friends was also considered family to the boys, and Dean was more than prepared to stop losing his family members.

“Who?” Mary asked quietly.

“Pastor Jim.” Dean paled and a tear slipped down Sam’s cheek. The kind old pastor was like a grandfather or doting uncle for the boys. “It was trying to force me out of hiding.”

“It won’t kill anyone else,” Mary promised. John, startled by the hardness in her voice, looked into her eyes. He saw a warrior and a predator staring back at him. “I told you that you would get the rundown on what I’ve been doing since I died. Well, I was reborn. I recently died again and got all of my memories of our life together back, but this body was born Buffy Anne Summers, and when I was fifteen years old, I was Called as the Vampire Slayer.” John listened in stunned silence as Mary – no, Buffy – told him about her life. She gave him a brief, but thorough summary of everything that had happened from the day her mother brought her younger sister home from the hospital – one of her first memories – to packing their sons in the car and heading out to find him.

“So…” John breathed. Buffy listened attentively to find out his reaction. “Slayers are real and in the plural now, huh?”

“You knew about Slayers and vampires?” Sam growled. “We thought she was crazy when she started talking about vampires, and you knew!”

“Most of our early information about vamps came from a geeky little freak who related everything back to Star Wars,” Dean added, smirking when Buffy rolled her eyes.

“I thought I told you two to not ever mention that subject around Andrew.”

“We just asked about vampires,” Dean protested. “He’s the one that started going all ‘your mother is the Obi-Wan/Yoda goddess of the Slayer community.”

“What?!? But that’s… I mean! Argh! I am NOT some bat-eared green midget, and I do not go all ghostly when I’m dead! That was so The First using my body!”

“Mom, chill. I think he was trying to impress us. Remember that he also called you the goddess of the Slayer community, but in a non-Hell god way,” Dean soothed. John looked from Buffy to Dean and back. Both had true smiles on their faces, something he had not seen on his elder son’s face in far too long. But then, Dean had always been extremely close to his mother; it had nearly destroyed the four-year-old when Mary died.

“Yeah yeah… He just doesn’t want us to burn all his comic books; that’s why he said that last part.” She turned her attention to John. “Now then, you have some explaining to do, mister.”


“I mean, training a kindergartner to shoot a gun? What were you thinking! Were you even thinking at all? And then to kick Sam out just because he wanted to go to college! Remember those talks we used to have before I got pregnant? You know, the ones where we were going to let our kids decide their own lives, so long as it made them happy and they were safe?”

“But he wasn’t safe!” John finally protested. Everyone in the room sat up to listen to this. “Neither of them were! When you died, nothing made sense anymore! I knew I saw you burning on the ceiling! But everyone told me it was some kind of gas leak. They said I was crazy! Then I saw a psychic, and she told I wasn’t imagining things; you really were murdered by a demon. So I did everything in my power to protect them. If they were ever alone, they could have been attacked and killed!” John felt guilt pierce through him when he saw Dean suddenly duck his head to stare at the comforter. Once this was straightened out he would talk to Dean about the Shtriga.

“So I trained them. Dean picked everything up so quickly, and he never argued with anything I told him- ”

“He was five! And you were his only remaining parent! You- ” Buffy stopped and held both hands out, indicating that she wanted everything to stop. “Willow, here’s my wallet. Take Sam and Dean out for dinner, and give me a call before you head back. This is beginning to feel like one of Faith and Robin’s fights, and the boys don’t need to hear that.” She turned her attention to Sam and Dean. “I love you both very much, and I know that the last thing either of you need right now is to listen to a screaming match between your parents. Go out to eat, and hopefully me and your Dad will be able to come to an agreement and meet you for dinner.”

Both nodded and started to follow Willow out the door. They both waved a goodbye to John and hugged Buffy before leaving. Once the door was closed and she heard the van roar to life, Buffy sat back down in her chair and looked at John.

“I don’t want to fight with you, but we need to get this all out in the open right now.”

“Agreed.” They stared at each other for a few minutes, neither willing to be the one to start the argument again. “What were you going to say before you sent the others out?” John finally asked.

“Just that you should have been reassuring him that you loved him and would be there for him; not handing him a gun and telling him that Sam needed him.”

“He wasn’t him anymore, M- Buffy. He was this shell of a child. He wouldn’t talk; would barely eat. The only time he slept was when he was in the crib, curled around Sammy. I did what I had to to bring him back.”

“But he didn’t come back; not really. He created the person you trained, but kept a large part of himself locked away. I’ve spent the past three weeks finding the child I can remember under that cocky, self-assured mask he wears. Did you know that the first night he stayed with us, he woke nearly the entire floor with his screaming? He had a nightmare, and when he woke up he couldn’t find Sam. Before he got that ‘I’m so tough’ act back up, he told me that he thought you had finally come and taken Sammy away from him. John, he was terrified that you would take Sam and abandon him!”

“I… I knew he was upset when I had to go somewhere, but… He thought I’d take Sam and leave?”

“Technically speaking, you’ve done it before.”

“What? How?”

“You told Sam to not come back if he went to college. Less than a week later, you took off while Dean was sleeping. Help me out here, Johnny. How could any father, especially one as devoted to his kids as you used to be, leave his already hurting child in the middle of the night, with nothing but a note to explain your absence?”

“I had to check on Sammy.”

“And you couldn’t have taken Dean with you?”

“He would have let Sam know we were there. It was still too fresh for him.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell Sam you were there, then?”

“Because if anything had been there to witness it, we could all be dead!”

“There’s a fine line between caution and paranoia, John. Which side are you on?”

“Most days I don’t even know if I care. I just… I can’t lose them, too. I knew I couldn’t protect them at all times, so I made sure they would be able to protect themselves.”

“Then why did you need to check on Sam?”

“He wanted out of our world. He didn’t want the hunt, or the training, or the monsters. But that would not have stopped them from going after him. I was afraid that his leaving us meant that he would forget about all the training. He was at risk there.”

“Demons and other baddies go after all types of people. Why would they go after Sam specifically?”

“The same reason the demon that killed you went after him. There’s something about him that- ”

“He’s psychic,” Buffy interrupted.


“Sam. He has visions. It started with prophetic dreams, but now he’s has full-blown, daytime visions.”

“But that’s… I mean, the other children only have telekinesis or telepathy. They never have- ”

“Other children?”

“Would you stop interrupting me? Yes, there are dozens, maybe even hundreds of children out there who, on the night they turned six months old, were attacked. Most times the entire family went up in flames. Sometimes it was just the child. Other times it was the child and a parent. As you know, there are also those instances where only a parent died. The demon went after Sam when he was six months old. It went after him again last November. It killed his girlfriend that time.”

“Then why didn’t it go after Dean?”

“What are you talking about? Dean’s normal.”

“No. You proved it earlier. Dean is not ‘normal’. He isn’t a psychic like Sammy, but he’s also not just another hunter’s kid.”

“Wha- When did I say anything like that?”

“‘Dean picked everything up so quickly.’ Think about it, John. No five-year-old is that good at weapons. Even if he was a natural, his hand still should have been much too small to grip guns, and even knives and daggers would be awkward for a child as small as he was. So how was it so easy for him?”

“You ask that as if you already knew.”

“No, but I have a theory. Actually, it’s Giles’ theory, but I agree with him. I was already alive as Buffy Summers when both boys were born. Giles thinks that, because of that, some of my potential-Slayerness got passed on to them. A Slayer can pick up any weapon and instinctively know how to use it. Dean needs a little bit of time to familiarize himself, but I bet he is an excellent shot with every single gun you have, and is also pretty handy with swords, knives, axes, and archery. I know he enjoys playing with weapons. A Slayer also has a good bit of intuition. How else is Dean’s gut instinct almost always right?”

“You have a point. But that doesn’t mean it’s the same as with Sam.”

“Slayers get prophetic dreams. I’ll admit that I’ve never seen it progress to full-out visions for a Slayer, but Sammy definitely has that going for him. He also has the ‘I’m as cute as a puppy, don’t you think I’m harmless?’ air surrounding him.”

“You don’t give off a helpless air.”

“I’m not trying to. All Slayers have this… I guess it’s just this inborn knowledge of how to use our looks to our advantage. I’m a small, blonde cheerleader. I can act like a world-class ditz when I need to. I can still pass for a junior in high school if necessary. Sam’s version of that is his helpless puppy routine.”

“Say you’re right- ”

“I’m right.”

John glared at her for a moment. “If that’s true, then does that mean that each of the babies are children of either Slayers or the spirit of a Slayer?”

“Not necessarily. You said that the other children are all telekinetic or telepathic. It may be that the demon is going after the power, sensed Sam’s, and came after us. It felt his power begin to come online last year, so it tried for him again. It won’t get the chance to go for a third.”

“Why is that?”

“The boys and I have a plan.”


“Yep. We recite a spell to make it corporeal, then kill it while it’s solid.”

“But you would have to be incredibly strong to both perform the spell, and kill it’s physical form.”

“Hello, Slayer! Besides, Willow’s the most powerful Wicca the Devon Coven has seen in nearly a thousand years, and they’ve seen some doozies.”

“Alright. Is that… I mean, are we?”

“We’re good. Wanna join the others, or get to know each other again?”

“What did you have in mind?” John asked.

“Well, my favorite color is blue. I refuse to ever eat at any Doublemeat Palace again. I still love figure-skating, and I have a small stuffed pig on my bed at home named Mr Gordo. Feel free to add things about you at any time.”

“Um… I like the color grey. I’ve found in the past year that I actually like vegetables, and hockey is the one sport I’d be willing to watch all the way through.”


Okay, that’s it for now. It may be awhile before I add anything for this series. I will be moving either later this month, or early next month, so the hectic schedule of a mover will soon be mine. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
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