This story has been nominated at the Crossing Over Awards for Best Unfinished Supernatural Crossover. I don't know who nominated me, but thank you!
So I thought I'd update. Unfortunately, this chapter has not been beta'd. So any weirdness is mine. Bear in mind that I am British, so there may be flaws like that. Otherwise, I think most of my grammar is correct!Warning:
This chapter includes torture and earns its rating.Chapter 56th March 2006
“Alright, so what exactly are we doing here at five-thirty in the morning?” Dean groused as he climbed out of the Impala.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Buffy interjected as she and Jess walked from the SUV, a vehicle that still made Dean laugh.
“I realised something. The tape showed the killer goin’ in, but not comin’ out.”
“So he came out the back door?” Dean asked, leaning against the hood of the Impala. Buffy leaned beside him, stifling a yawn. Slayer or not, she was never fond of early mornings.
“Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.”
“‘Cept for the fact that it’s three months old,” Buffy chimed in helpfully.
Dean ignored the statement, following on from Sam’s observation. “‘Cause they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zach inside. I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at five-thirty in the morning.”
“It’s quieter,” Jess explained. “We discussed it last night, and –”
“Whoa, you discussed
it? Huh, talkin’ in bed, that’s a novel idea.” Dean’s lips lifted in a wicked grin.
“Yes, well, Dean, in an actual relationship, you stay in bed after sex,” Sam explained as though to a child as he looked around the side of the building, not noticing the offended look cross his brother’s face. He noticed an old blood-stain on a telephone pole, and looked triumphantly at Buffy. “And you thought we wouldn’t find anythin’. Blood. Somebody definitely came this way.”
“Yeah, but the trail ends. I don’t see anythin’ over here,” Dean replied.
“Nada,” Buffy agreed.
“So what, it evaporated?” Jess asked, her voice sarcastic.
An ambulance drove past them at high speed, and they all exchanged a looks.
Minutes later they were outside the house. An Asian man was handcuffed, being pushed into a police car. His wide-eyed expression was one of utter shock.
“What happened?” Buffy asked a woman nearby.
The older lady turned, smiling at the group of young people. It was so good to see people interested in their community. “He tried to kill his wife. He tied her up and beat the poor thing.”
Sam and Jess made noises of horror in the backs of the throats, and Buffy’s eyes widened.
“Really?” Dean asked.
The woman nodded. “I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice young man.”
“I’ll bet,” Dean muttered under his breath. Buffy grabbed his arm. “What?”
“We’re going to check this out as representatives of the ICW,” Buffy informed him. “Time to see how good you are.” She looked at the younger two members of the party. “Look around, we’ll be back soon.”
Sam grinned as Buffy tugged his brother away. “I see a beautiful relationship there. Can’t decide if it’ll be one of loathing or love yet, though.”
Jess considered Buffy’s descriptions of her dream lover. This certainly had promise. “Hopefully the latter.”
Buffy and Dean joined them beside the house about twenty minutes later.
“So, your brother can really sweet-talk anyone.” Buffy grinned. “I mean, half of them know me, and dislike my interference with Zach’s case, but Dean? Has the story in minutes. Might just have to keep you around.”
“How marvellous to know I’ve been of service, milady,” Dean replied somewhat snidely, but Buffy laughed.
“Well, remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?” Dean asked Sam.
“Definitely our kind of problem.”
“What’d you find out?” Sam asked keenly.
“Well, I talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s, story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked.”
“So, he was two places at once,” Jess stated.
“Exactly,” Buffy responded. “Then he sees himself in the house, police think he’s crazy.”
“Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way,” Sam frowned.
“Could be the same thing doin’ it, too,” Dean pointed out.
“Likely, the same MO,” Buffy agreed as Sam remained in thought.
“Shapeshifter?” Sam offered. “Something that can make itself look like anyone?”
“Every culture in the world has its shapeshifter lore. Y’know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men,” Dean observed.
“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves.”
“Although most werewolves don’t do the bloody attack thing if they know they’re werewolves,” Buffy pointed out. “This thing is doing this on purpose. Like, for thrills or something.”
“Oh, yay,” Jess said cheerlessly. “It’s a sociopathic shapeshifter.”
“We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighbourhood,” Dean stated.
“Let me ask you this: in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” Sam asked.
“Not that I know of,” Jess replied, frowning.
“Never heard of it,” Dean concurred.
“We picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way.”
“Just like your friend’s house,” Dean realised.
“Yeah. And, just like at Zach’s house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared.”
“Well, there’s another way to go – down,” Dean pointed out.
All four looked down, noticing a manhole.
“Oh, God, I hate sewers!” Buffy cried. “And the number of creepies down there…”
“Look, give me five minutes to change and grab some weapons,” Buffy requested.
“We might lose him.”
“If he’s nearby, he’ll stay nearby. He’s got no idea we’re hunting him yet,” she pointed out.
“Fine,” Dean groaned. “Women!”
“Men!” Buffy countered.
Five minutes later, Buffy and Jess were wearing their more practical, yet stylish combats and boots, though both had opted for tank-tops and jackets that left the Winchesters rather appreciative. Buffy had also retrieved stakes and a knife, wary of what else they might discover down there.
They all got down the manhole. “I bet this runs right by Zach’s house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. A lot of vampires use these for movement in the day as well,” Buffy responded. “You’d be surprised how many sewers there can be in even a small town like Sunnydale.”
“I think you’re right,” Dean interrupted, bending down. “Look at this.”
The others bent down, peering at the disgusting pile of blood and skin on the ground.
“Oh that is revolting,” Jess grimaced, standing up and swallowing convulsively.
“Is this from his victims?”
Dean took out his pocketknife, lifting and pulling up some of the skin for further examination.
“You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape – maybe it sheds.”
“That is sick,” Sam replied even as Jess answered, “Yeah, that is a sick thought.” The lovers exchanged fond glances.
Dean shook the skin off his knife back onto the ground, before wiping it carefully.
“We’re gonna need more weapons.”
They headed back up to the surface and the cars. Dean flung open the Impala’s trunk and began taking out weapons.
“Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it,” Dean stated.
“Silver bullet to the heart,” Sam recalled with a grin.
“That’s right,” Dean grinned.
“Good.” Buffy nodded, hearing the conversation. She handed something in the trunk to Jess before pulling out her own Beretta, sliding the clip in and prepping the gun, before holstering it in the small of her back, even as Jess did the same.
“Just be careful.” Jess grinned. “Buffy hates guns.”
“Aw, I think you just hurt my feelings, sweetheart.” Dean placed a hand on his heart dramatically.
“You’ll survive. I don’t dislike all
“No, you liked that rocket launcher Xander got for you,” Jess acknowledged as they walked to another manhole.
“Whoa, rocket launcher?”
“Demon – ‘no weapon forged by man’ could harm him.”
“So you got one made by a machine,” Sam realised. “Clever.”
“And it was all Xander’s idea.” Jess grinned. “He was so proud of that.”
“Oughta be. That soldier guy proved useful over the years.”
“They got possessed by their Hallowe’en costumes one year. Xander dressed as a soldier. Buffy was a useless eighteenth-century noblewoman.”
“Hey, I got top marks in French for weeks after that. I can still read that and Latin.” She poked out her tongue.
“And yet you never told Giles. Shame on you.” Jess shook her head.
“Hah, I wasn’t going to risk him discovering I know how to make a perfect cup of tea, either!” Buffy riposted. She had a reputation, she wasn’t going to let her sister ruin it – ever.
“Y’know, I thought our life was weird, but your hometown…” Dean shook his head.
“Sunnydale had that effect on people.”
“So why’d you blow it up?”
“Fight with the First. ‘Sides had to go bigger after we blew up the high school.”
Dean’s eyes shone as they climbed down into the sewers. “You blew up your high school? Sweet!”
“Pyro,” Sam’s voice called from below him.
“And don’t we know it,” Dean agreed cheerfully.
Finally, Jess jumped down, and both she and Buffy surprised the men by the ease with which they handled their smaller handguns.
“Just don’t waste bullets,” Buffy reminded her sister. “These things don’t come cheap.”
Jess stuck out her tongue. “I’m perfectly capable, Buffy. Uncle Jack says I’m a natural.”
“Yeah, well Uncle Jack’s been resigned to a desk job now,” Buffy pointed out.
Their uncle – an Air Force colonel – hadn’t been close to his nieces since his own son’s death, but the relationship had improved in the last few years. One of his decisions had been made in the summer before Jess went to Stanford. He had visited and taken his nieces to the gun range, ensuring all three knew how to fire, clean and respect a gun. He’d been impressed with their friend Xander’s own abilities – though surprised by the assertion that neither Buffy nor Jess was dating him. Buffy was a natural with all weapons due to the Slayer, but guns had never felt right in her hands until lately when she’d been using them against the supernatural. Jess, however, had a marksman’s eye.
“C’mon, Buffy, you don’t mind guns so much now anyway,” Jess pointed out. “I think you only disliked them because they were next to useless in killing demons. Now that we’ve found ones that will
be killed by guns…”
“I don’t like guns because I was shot with one,” Buffy responded. “Third death, Jessie, third death.”
“Wait a minute, third
?” Dean asked, even as he turned around a corner, bringing his gun up sharply.
“She flat-lined,” Jess explained. “First time she drowned, Xander brought her back. Second time, she…”
“Died to save Dawnie,” Buffy finished. “They resurrected me.”
“They tore you out of heaven,” Jess stated resentfully. While overjoyed to have her sister back, she had always felt angry that the others had never made sure of where Buffy was before they brought her back to life.
“There’s really a heaven?” Dean asked, surprised.
“You didn’t think there would be?”
“When you see so much of the bad…”
“Well, I don’t know if it was really heaven. But it was safe, and soft, and warm. And I was loved, happy…” Buffy sighed, before snapping back to attention, glad the dim light hid her blush at revealing something so personal to relative strangers. “I think we’re close to its lair.”
“Why do you say that?” Sam asked.
“Maybe because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” Dean informed him wickedly.
Sam turned to see another heap of blood and skin on a pipe right next to his face. He jumped back slightly.
“Oh, God!” he cried, disgusted.
The four of them scanned the area, seeing a mound of clothes in a corner.
“Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” Jess observed.
“Yeah. Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away with?” Sam wondered before turning and seeing the shapeshifter, still in the form of Alex, the Oriental man whose shape it had taken, standing behind Dean. “Dean!”
Dean whipped around, but the shapeshifter’s punch flung him to the ground, giving him time to run. The other three began shooting, but it had a preternatural speed, dodging each of them. Buffy swore as she moved towards Dean.
“Damn thing’s strong,” Dean growled, standing and flexing his shoulder. “Get the son of a bitch!”
They gave chase.
Unfortunately, it led them straight up a manhole, escaping onto the street of busy people. The four hunters jumped out, scanning the area desperately.
“Split up?” Sam offered.
“Yeah,” Dean nodded and looked at the girls. “Meet back at the car?”
“Sure,” Buffy offered. “Jess, you stick with Sam.”
“Fine,” Jess growled, but hooked her arm with Sam’s as they both kept their weapons hidden.
Dean grinned before he and Buffy took off in opposite directions.
Half an hour later, Dean was the last to arrive back.
“Whoa!” he cried as they pointed their guns at him, before lowering them. “You find anything?”
“No. He’s gone,” Sam sighed.
“Think he found a way back underground?” Dean asked.
“Probably. Sewers are like rabbit warrens. Impossible to navigate unless you know them or have a map,” Buffy replied with her own sigh. “He could’ve gone down anywhere.”
Jess ran a hand through her hair before finding something wet and disgusting. “Ew, gross!”
“What?” Buffy asked her, alarmed.
“I think I got skin in my hair,” her sister moaned, examining the long strands.
Buffy laughed. “Now you know how I feel, Jessie. Night after night, demon guts, blood, bile… Oh, God, remember the bezoar?”
“I remember Mom grounded you ‘cause she thought you’d disobeyed her,” Jess smirked, “which, technically, you did.”
“Well, at least Mom got out of the repression stage.” Buffy shuddered.
“Look, Sam, Jess, why don’t you head back to Becky’s, let her know we’re onto something?” Dean offered. “Buffy and I can continue looking.”
Sam looked startled by the offer. “Uh, you sure?”
“Yeah, he’s right,” Buffy agreed. “Besides, I’m willing to bet neither of you got much sleep last night.” She smirked as her sister flushed beautifully. “Here,” she fished the SUV keys out of her pocket, “take the car. Don’t wreck it.”
“Hah, more likely to happen with you at the wheel!” Jess laughed as she caught Buffy’s keys.
“Hey, not my fault the rest of the world doesn’t have Slayer reflexes,” Buffy pointed out.
“You two have fun
now.” Dean grinned lasciviously.
The younger members of the four got in the SUV and drove away. Even as they did so, Dean’s eyes glinted silver.
“So, where to?” Buffy asked.
“Well, if he hasn’t gone to ground, maybe he’s hidden in one of the empty crime scenes.”
“What, Zach’s?” Buffy asked.
“Yeah,” Dean offered, before looking inside the car boot. He grinned.
“What’s up?” Buffy asked.
“Need more bullets,” Dean replied.
Buffy frowned more a moment. “But you never fired a –”
Her sentence was to remain unfinished as the shapeshifter struck her twice with a crowbar from the Winchesters’ boot.
“I’ve never had a Slayer before,” he informed the unconscious female, his mouth forming a wicked smirk. “I wonder how long you can hold out.”
This time, the shapeshifter wasn’t concerned about the security footage across the street to mask the crime. He just wanted long enough to do what no one else had, and kill the Slayer. The eldest, the senior of the Slayer line. Buffy Summers, the anomaly. He loaded her into the car as he drove them the block to Zach Warren’s home, parking the Impala outside.
He smirked as he carried the unconscious form into the house and tied her to a chair – more securely than he had with any other, given the Slayer’s strength.
Now he just needed her to wake up for the fun to begin.
Dean opened his eyes to find himself in near darkness.
“Son of a bitch…” he moaned. The shapeshifter had attacked him, struck him and dragged him down here. He had heard him say something about a new skin. “Damn thing’s runnin’ around with my face, God knows what he’s doin’ with it,” he muttered angrily.
It had used rope to bind him. Mistake number one.
It hadn’t taken Dean’s pocket-knife. Mistake number two.
Pain flared in his shoulder as he contorted to get the knife from his pocket, but Dean ignored this with a ruthlessness born of desperation. What was that freak doing? Was he hurting someone? Rebecca, Buffy, Jess – or heaven forbid, Sammy? Well, whatever the hell the freak was doing, he wanted it gone.
The rope snapped. Swiftly, Dean stood, discarding the rope and checking himself for other injuries. He was going to have a nice bump on his head and his shoulder was sore from before, but other than that he was okay. Damn thing had taken his jacket, though, complete with phone. Urgently, he made his way to the nearest way up, climbing up as quickly as his injury would allow, before finding a pay phone.
“Sammy?” Dean asked urgently when he got an answer.
There was the sound of movement, and Jess’s voice in the background. “Dean? What’s wrong?”
“Damn sonovabitch got me.”
“The shifter, Sam! Got me when we split up, I woke up in the sewers!”
“But we – oh, God, how the hell did it trick us?”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know! It and Buffy said they were gonna continue looking for it…”
“Buffy’s it’s target. Pretty young woman, and the damn thing is tryin’ to kill her while wearin’ my face!”
“I’ll call the cops.”
“Wait, you’re gonna put an APB out on me?”
“If it’ll save her!”
“Fine, I’m headed there now. Damn thing took my car.”
Dean slammed down the phone and ran as quickly as he could. He saw the Impala outside Zach’s home and knew his guess was right. Swearing, he opened the trunk, looking for anything. The damn thing had his other gun, so normal bullets would have to slow it down. He secured the base in case the police checked out the car, before hearing a stifled scream.
Dean slammed down the boot door before racing into the house, literally kicking down the door.
“Buffy!” he yelled.
The scene as he got into the living room was bizarrely surreal. Himself, blood staining his cheeks – Buffy’s blood – collar pulled up on the coat, blood stained knife in hand. Buffy, blood congealing in her hair, bruises already forming on her face and wrists, her tank top torn, and blood dripping from her arms and legs. There were tears in her eyes, and her wrists were raw from where she had tried to get out. A gag was in her mouth, but it too was stained with her blood.
Dean hefted the gun. “Let go of her.”
“Dean,” the shifter smiled darkly. “I just been tellin’ Buffy here about all your delightful dreams about her. What you’d really
like to do to her and Jess. That boilin’ anger in you that Jess is gonna take your brother away from you again. But then you’re always alone. Mommy left you, Sammy left you, Daddy left you… All realising just how worthless you are.”
“Let – her – go,” Dean demanded, ignoring the shifter’s wounding words.
“Oh, I don’t think so. What’re you gonna do? Shoot yourself?”
The shifter leaned down, the knife headed towards Buffy’s neck…
The gunshot rang out.
The scream of sirens pierced the air as police trooped in.
The shifter flung itself out of the window.
“Drop your weapon!” the police commanded.
One of them went towards Buffy even as someone began grabbing his wrists to handcuff them. The gag was removed.
“No!” Buffy yelled, and there was silence. “It wasn’t Dean – he shot it – it’s gone – out the window – it looked like Dean, but it wasn’t – please, he saved my life – it was gonna kill me – please!”
“You shot her attacker?”
“You see a bullet hole anywhere else?” Dean asked. “God, she’s my brother’s girlfriend’s sister! I’m not gonna hurt her!”
They released Dean’s wrists with this confirmation.
“Who are you?” the cop asked.
“Dean Winchester. Buffy…” He tried to go forward, concern evident on his face, but another stopped him.
“You’ll contaminate the evidence.”
Buffy didn’t care. As soon as they removed the ropes from her wrists and ankles, she flung herself into Dean’s arms, sobbing. Dean, surprised, caught her and held her gently, looking at the cops around him with an expression of genuine bewilderment that confirmed seemed to confirm Buffy’s assertion that he was not her torturer.
“Uh, it’s okay,” he murmured awkwardly. “Buffy? It’s alright. You’re safe.”
“He was too strong!” she cried into his shirt. “And – he looked like you, but then he wasn’t and his eyes glowed – he – he must’ve known we were onto him.”
“I’m sorry, miss, ‘onto him’?” the cop asked.
“Buffy works for the ICW. Actually, my brother and I were hired on just yesterday,” Dean explained. “She’s been lookin’ into this case.”
“Zach Warren? He’s one of my brother’s college friends. Buffy is Sam’s girlfriend’s big sister.”
“Buffy Summers is the elder sister of Jessica Summers who is the girlfriend of my little brother, Sam Winchester,” Dean said slowly, even as his arms seemed to tighten around Buffy of their own accord. He’d barely known her for two days, but he could not imagine the tough Slayer like this. What had that thing done? What had it said? “Sam and Jess are both friends of Zach and Rebecca Warren. We only found out a couple of days ago – Sam still thought Jess was dead. He’s been grieving,” he tried to explain. He was hoping the convoluted truth would convince them. People couldn’t make this up. “We didn’t – we found out when we got here. We’ve both got experience the ICW wants, so we signed up, before helpin’ in the investigation. Especially after what happened yesterday…”
“You’ve been tracking this bastard?”
“We noticed an irregularity on the videotape,” Dean explained. “We found an old bloodstain out back, which would follow if Emily’s real killer escaped that way, and found a lair in the sewers. Spotted the bastard, but he escaped. We returned up, split up… It got me. I woke up in its lair. Somehow – dunno how – it posed as me, attacked Buffy and brought her here.” He shook his head.
“Wait a minute – posed as you?”
“Like lookin’ in a fuckin’ mirror,” Dean informed him.
“Like – like a shapeshifter or something,” Buffy cried. “And it was strong – too strong – this – it’s not normal!”
“Buffy! Dean!” they heard voices screech outside.
The officer looked out to see a blonde and tall brunette man outside, both looking extremely worried.
“Jessie?” Buffy asked softly.
“Buffy, you okay?” Dean checked. “Look, we’d better get you sat down. Or a hospital. We got an ambulance?”
“Buffy!” Jess’s voice was high-pitched and panicked.
“Mr Winchester, we’re going to need a statement. And you, Miss Summers,” a detective informed them.
“Yes, yes. But the ICW has authority on this case,” Dean replied. “Even if we have to get other agents out here.”
“G-good,” Buffy murmured. “G-good. Don’t – not Dawnie. She’s t-too far away…”
“Not Dawn, then. Buffy, stick with me, okay? You sound odd.”
“Possible concussion. He may have knocked her out. She seemed to know he wasn’t you,” the cop diagnosed. “Where’s that ambulance?” he yelled.
“Buffy, ‘kay, Buffy, stay awake,” Dean reminded her. She was gripping him far too tightly. He didn’t get why she was. He wasn’t exactly the pillar of comfort people clung to in their time of need. Hell, even Sammy had someone else now.
“D-Dean… You’re good,” Buffy burbled slightly. “Hot too… Not like nasty Dean. Not Dean. Evil! No more evil men for Buffy. Nuh-uh. None!”
Dean blinked. “Typical, she calls me hot when she’s had a bang on the head.” He shook his head indulgently with a chuckle.
The paramedics raced in.
“No, no hospitals!” Buffy whined, clinging to Dean.
“Yes, hospitals,” Dean replied firmly.
“We’ll take her from here.”
Slowly, they successfully got Buffy to let Dean go. She did
have a concussion, which said something for how hard she’d been hit, considering how tough Slayers were and how fast they healed. Her bleeding was slowing, but she was bruised severely.
Sam and Jess had broken through as the paramedics and cop escorted the pair outside.
“Detective Monahan!” Jess cried as she recognised the man on Zach’s case. “God, how is she, is she okay? Buffy!”
“Your sister is badly hurt, Miss Summers, but she’ll live,” the detective replied. The girls had irritated him the first time, but it was hard not to feel sympathy for them now. “Not in a small part due to your brother, Mr Winchester, I presume.”
“Yes. Sam Winchester. Dean, is he okay?”
“Well, he’s walking around and he has a licence for that gun of his, so he’s okay. Seems he saved her life. Your brother’s quite the hero, Mr Winchester.”
“Thank God,” Sam sighed. “We got a call… I don’t know how we didn’t spot it… The bastard looked so much like Dean… Like he’s got some…”
“Mask? Like those prosthetic ones? Are they that good yet?” Jess wondered. “But it would take hours to get on…”
“Bastard stole my jacket and amulet.” Dean rubbed his neck, unsettled without the familiar cord there. “Not to mention my Colt.”
“Another gun, Mr Winchester?” Monahan asked.
“This line of work…” Before something occurred to him. “He might’ve taken Buffy’s gun as well.”
“We’re all licensed,” Jess informed the detective. “Specialists, PI sort of thing. Buffy and I use Berettas, 9mm calibre.”
“And of course there was the knife he was usin’ on her.” Dean looked sick at the thought.
Sam pulled Dean into a hug. “Don’t you do that to me again, ‘kay?”
Dean winced at the pressure on his shoulder. “I won’t.”
“You’re injured too,” Monahan observed. “Into the ambulance. Miss Summers, Mr Winchester, you’ll need to follow behind.”
“But – can’t I travel with her?” Jess asked.
“She’ll be fine, I’ll keep an eye on her.” He looked at Monahan. “I’m tellin’ you, man, if you dudes hurt my car lookin’ for ‘evidence’…”
“The Impala. The bastard must’ve swiped it to drive here,” Dean groused. “God knows what he’s done to her.”
Jess gave a watery laugh as Sam grinned before a paramedic dragged Dean into the ambulance.
“He’s, ah, fond of his car?” Monahan asked.
“It’s a classic. ’67 Chevy Impala. Used to be Dad’s. Passed it on to Dean,” Sam explained. “We’ve been practically living out of it with this roadtrip.” He looked at Jess and hugged her close again. “Just tryin’ to get by.”
Monahan gave a smile. “He mentioned something about you believing Miss Summers was dead?”
“Everyone did, after the fire. I just… stopped answerin’ calls or checkin’ my mail.” Sam explained. “When I finally did, we heard about Zach, and had to come here. Where I discovered Jess was alive.”
Monahan chuckled. “You couldn’t make it up.”
“Detective, what’s going to happen now? I mean, it’s clear that whoever or whatever this thing is, neither of the men you have in custody did it,” Jess wanted to know. “Zach, and that poor man yesterday…”
“You mentioned a lair. Do you know where it is?”
“The sewers.” And Sam gave the best directions he could, before he and Jess were allowed to get back into the SUV and race to the hospital, where Buffy was going to be photographed and patched up.
Buffy and Dean were both escorted to the secure ward, where the woman who had been attacked the previous night was also staying. She was awake and gasped as they came in.
“It seems your husband is innocent, Mrs Leung,” the cop escorting them explained.
“There might be some truth to the story that your husband saw some kind of doppelganger. Because the bastard I shot today looked a hell of a lot like me,” Dean explained.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do we, but he seems to have an extremely effective form of disguise.”
“Alex – he didn’t do this? He – he’s still my Alex?” Lindsay Leung asked wonderingly.
Lindsay began to cry. “Thank you.”
Dean, however, was trying to extricate his hand from Buffy’s grip and failing. She seemed to have grown uncharacteristically attached to him.
He sighed as he turned around for them to undress the woman before him and get a full idea of her injuries. This was going to be a long night.
Okay, so let me know what you think.
Anyone who can spot the potential crossover reference and the crime series reference gets points! One is particularly obvious, although I don't think the story will cross over. I just liked the idea.
Please review and let me know what you think. And bear in mind that I have Buffy/Dean fanart that you might enjoy and no one is reviewing...