Title: Slayers and Demons
Summary: Buffy meets Dean and Sam on the side of a road. Written for Rt. 66 Valentine’s Day ficathon. Urban Legend prompt given by Ava.
Warning: There is death, violence and a bit of gore. It is SPN and BTVS, after all.
Spoilers: Anything before Season 2.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a beautiful Slayer. She was a goddess, a warrior and a natural disaster all rolled up in human form. Where she went, horror followed.
On February 14, 2008, like some bad penny, she turned up in Monroe, Wisconsin.
It was a cold night, like all Wisconsin nights in February are, when Buffy drove into town. Window wipers batted at large, puffy flakes of snow that dotted her windshield. Eyes straining, she peered through the heavy flurries. It was no time to be driving, but it wasn’t like she had a choice. An infestation of ghouls was piling up a body count and a little snow wasn’t going to keep her from hunting them.
A whole lot of snow, though, was keeping her from getting anywhere fast. At least the blizzard would keep people inside and safe. She hoped. The car lurching to the right pulled her drifting attention back to the road. Wheels skidded as she hit an icy patch. Spinning the steering wheel, she slammed on the breaks and the car careened into a ditch with a solid crunch. Her chest ached from the tight grip of the seatbelt and she closed her eyes, letting her head fall on the steering wheel with at thump. When Xander, Dawn and Faith found out she ditched the car, she’d never hear the end of it. Hands uselessly clutching the steering wheel, she let out an uncharacteristic curse, “Shit!”
Glaring at the wipers as they continued squeaking across the glass, she said again, “Shit!”
A rapping on the window next to her made her jump. Eyes wide, she hit the button that rolled down her window. A blond man was hunched over, the collar of his leather jacket cupping his face. And what a face it was. He was talking, but all she heard was the voice inside her head cooing, “Pretty.” His words did not register at all.
The man’s brow creased, head cocking as he stared at her, “Pretty?”
Oh, shit. She said it out loud.
“The snow! It’s pretty,” she babbled, trying for the wide-eyed dumb blonde routine that usually worked for her.
“Uh huh.” His eyes traveled over her, intense and assessing. Buffy decided he probably thought she had a concussion from the concerned look on his face. “Do you need a ride? I don’t think a tow truck is gonna make it out here tonight.”
Glancing at the drift she'd plowed into, she nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
He grabbed her door handle, looking down critically. “Hold on, the snow is half way up the door…”
With one sharp shove, she had the door open and the hot guy, who had been standing outside, was on his ass in the snow.
“Ooops. I’m sorry.” Shit, shit, shit, she thought as she outwardly cringed. Shit! Looked like that was her word tonight.
Reaching out, she grabbed the guy’s hand and easily pulled him to his feet. Too easily, from the curious expression on his face. Hands busy, she began helping him brush snow from his jeans staying far away from any place that Giles would deem ‘unseemly’.
“God, are you OK?”
He nodded, giving her a studied look as he took a step back. His warm gaze was nailed to her and she couldn’t help thinking he had gorgeous green eyes. A smirk curled up the corner of his mouth and he answered, “I think I’ll make it.”
She smiled, dying a little inside from embarrassment. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to grab my duffel bag. I’m staying at the Gasthaus Motel on Highway 69?”
“I’m familiar with the place.”
“It’s kind of a hole,” Buffy said nervously, not sure why she was bothering to explain herself to a stranger, “but it’s cheap.”
Quickly, she yanked her duffel out of the back seat and slammed the car door. Purse on her shoulder, keys in hand, she pressed her key fob and locked the car.
“I can take that…”
“No! It’s fine!” Buffy said brightly, not wanting to be too far away from the weapons stash in her duffel. They guy looked harmless, but that didn’t mean anything. She was a prime example of how looks could be deceiving.
He gave a shrug but his eyes lit up while he watched her struggle to put the strap over her shoulder. “If you say so.”
“Don’t want to put you out any more than I have.” Leaning to the side, mimicking how a normal girl would look carrying a heavy bag, she plodded through knee-deep snow toward his ancient black car. Eyes narrowing, she sneaked a glance at him. Headlights glowed brightly, spotlighting his incredible good looks. Inwardly, she couldn’t help thinking, Hello, Mr. Summers! Crap, she really should tell him her name.
“My name is Buffy Summers,” she said by way of introduction.
She had to give him points. When she told him her name was Buffy, he only briefly raised his eyebrows before he nodded and said, “Dean Winchester.”
He opened the back door of the car, and she clambered inside, sliding her duffel bag with her. There was a tall, lanky guy sitting in the passenger-side seat. He turned, crooking his body so he faced her. “Hey, my name’s Sam.” Reaching out, he offered to shake her hand. Pulling her fingers free of a large white mitten, she accepted, careful to give him a light, girly handshake.
“Buffy Summers, thanks for the rescue. I would have been stuck in that drift all night if you two hadn’t stopped.”
He gave her a warm grin that disappeared when his brother got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. A car passed them on the left, headlights lighting up the interior briefly as it drove by. There was a little lurch, back tires spinning, as they took off. 80’s rock echoed softly through the car as heat blasted from the vents.
“Turn down the heat.”
“You’re a girl.”
Dean reached out and flipped the chrome slider to the left, turning the heat off. His brother glared at him, jaw clenching as he flipped it back to right.
The tail lights they’d been following disappeared while the brothers bickered. Eyes narrowing, Buffy stared into the field of snowflakes looking for the car that’d passed them earlier. A burst of adrenalin rushed through her and she let out a sharp cry as a woman seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of them. In the instant she appeared, the headlights outlined her body, and Buffy could see a trickle of blood running down the side of her face.
“Look out!” Her voice jerked the guys’ attention back to the road and Dean slammed on the breaks, sending the car sliding through ice and snow for a second. With a calculated burst of speed, Dean adjusted and caused the car to fishtail. They easily swerved to the left and made it around the woman, leaving her standing safely behind them.
“Jesus Christ,” Dean sputtered, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. Both Sam and Buffy followed, surprised as Dean bellowed at the woman, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Tears ran down the woman’s cheeks mixing with blood as she ignored him. Sputtering, she wrung her hands together, “Help me! We crashed in a ditch and my baby is stuck in the back seat. I can’t get her out!”
“Shit,” Buffy murmured. “Where’s the car?”
Moving faster than a normal woman could, the woman raced past them. Buffy followed, feet sliding in the snow. A chill went through her when she glanced around and noticed the woman left no foot prints in the snow. Suddenly, she wished she had more than a few well hidden stakes on her person. She watched the woman blur down the road and scamper into the ditch, disappearing in the falling flakes.
“Wait!” One of the boys yelled behind her.
She was already down the steep slope of the ditch, following the violent slant of tire tracks that had cut through the virgin snow. Looking over her shoulder she could see the dark outline of their bodies at the top of the slope and she shouted, “Hurry up!” At her words, Dean took a careful step down. With that one step, he slipped and fell on his back with a loud, ‘umph’. Sliding on his ass down the slope, he came to a stop next to her.
“This isn’t the time to play in the snow,” she griped, pulling him to his feet.
“I’m not playing, sweetheart. I fell.”
The snide way he said the word ‘sweetheart’ put her teeth on edge, but now wasn’t the time to bicker. Pointing toward two tail lights peeking out from dense brush, she said, “That must be the car but where'd the woman go?”
“And how did she get out of the car?” Dean asked, a frown creasing his brow as he stared at the dense bush and bramble pressed against the car doors, effectively blocking the occupants inside.
“I don’t know.”
“How about less standing around and more rescuing the baby?” Sam’s voice jerked them into action, and Buffy moved forward, pushing branches aside with the brothers’ help. As they worked, she became aware of the sharp wail of an infant. Branches tore at her hair and clothes as she shoved through to the car. Brushing snow from the windows, she saw two bodies in the front of the car. Both were slumped forward, looking like broken dolls. The baby, though, was strapped into its infant seat in the back. Grunting, she pulled at the door and yanked it open despite the thick brush.
“OK, you’re really strong.” Sam’s dark eyes assessed her, but she ignored him. Now wasn’t the time to be careful. Lives were at stake.
“I work out,” she mumbled as she unclipped the baby and cradled her in her arms. “Shh… It’s OK. It’s OK.”
As she held the child, she twisted to look at the front seat. Reaching out, she pressed her fingers to the neck of the woman in the passenger side. No pulse. She flinched back, brushing the woman’s long, brown hair to the side revealing her face. As she did, Buffy let out a sharp gasp. “Shit!” Scrambling back, she bounced against the backseat.
“What’s wrong?” Dean grabbed her arm, steadying her so she wouldn’t drop the baby.
Buffy looked up at him, a hysterical giggle winding through her. “You’re not going to believe me.”
She watched as his eyes narrowed. “Try me.”
Jerking her head to the side, she motioned at the woman. “The woman in the front seat?” He nodded, waiting for her to continue. “She’s dead.”
Sam’s voice came from the other side, as he pulled the front door open and checked on the driver. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Dean asked, attention diverted from Buffy to his brother.
Sam pointed to the passenger, his eyebrows reaching for the sky. “She’s the woman from the road.”
“Shit,” Dean grumbled. “Not another damn ghost.”
Glancing between the brothers and their casual acceptance of the obvious paranormal conclusion, she asked curiously, “Another ghost?”
Attention jerking away from his brother, Dean caught her gaze with a look of annoyance. It was clear he’d forgotten she was there. “Yeah. I know it’s hard to believe, but ghosts are real.”
With a casual shrug, she peered down at the baby and wrapped the blanket tightly around the infant’s tiny body. Casually, she returned, “Sometimes, the dead just don’t stay that way.”
She didn’t elaborate as she squirmed passed Dean and out of the car—there was no way she was going to make with the explain-y. They may believe in ghosts, but that didn’t mean their minds were open enough to believe in Slayers, demons and non-second-coming-type resurrections.
Ambulance lights flashed across the snow, lighting the field of white alternately red and blue. Cradled in Buffy’s arms, was a warm little bundle. She couldn’t look away from the dark eyes gazing solemnly up at her, and Buffy felt a tug on her heart. She knew what it was like to lose a mother.
“It’s OK, little girl. Somehow, I’ll make sure you’ll be fine.”
“Miss, we have to take the baby.”
Blinking back tears, Buffy looked up at the police officer waiting for her to give up the baby. Patiently, the female cop reached out and Buffy reluctantly gave her charge over. Pulling out a card from her pocket, she handed it to the cop, “If she needs anything, please let me know.”
The cop nodded, taking the card and shoving it in her pocket. “I’ll give you a call and update you.”
The woman gave Buffy a warm smile before turning and strapping the infant into the infant seat in the back of the squad.
“The kid’ll be all right.” A hand squeezed her shoulder and she looked up to find warm green eyes staring at her intently. She glanced him over, wondering when he’d wrapped a scarf over his face and put on a knitted cap. It was a weird look for the guy that’d traipsed through the snow bare-headed and his jacket hanging open. Glancing to the side, she noticed Sam had done the same and she wondered, briefly, if they were hiding something.
“I hope so.”
He pulled away and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable with his show of concern. “Why don’t we drop you off at your hotel?”
She gave a small nod and trudged through the snow back to his car. She hopped into the back seat. The trio was silent on their ride home. Overwhelmed by the death and mayhem, Buffy quietly leaned her forehead against the cold glass staring into the dark as they drove. The brothers seemed preoccupied, too, stripping their winter-wear scarves and tossing them to the floor of the car while shooting each other nervous looks as the trio rode to the Gasthaus in silence.
The tops of the gravestones peeked out of the thick blanket of snow, making it easy to track the ghouls to a crypt in the rear of the cemetery. Dean plodded through deep drifts, looking ahead at Sam who was having much less trouble.
“Fucking giant,” he grumbled, jealous of his brother’s longer legs and a scowl curled his mouth. Sam’s lanky figure disappeared over a rise in the landscape, and there was a sudden shout. His mouth went dry, and he plowed up the slope with a burst of energy. “Sam?” There was another shout, and his stomach clenched in worry. “SAM!”
He came over the hill to see a small figure fighting a group of ghouls. The tiny person was wearing a puffy, pastel blue coat that reminded him of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. Long blond hair peeked out from under a knitted cap and he realized it was a small woman ducking the boney limb of a ghoul. She yanked on the arm, decayed flesh hanging loosely from the bleached white bones, and pulled it from the socket of the creature. Easily, she swung the limb using it as a weapon. The group of ghouls swirled around her. She fought with the speed and precision of a hardened warrior, knocking the skull from one of the ghouls with her makeshift weapon. Sam, meanwhile was sprawled out on the snow. Dean slid to his knees beside his brother.
“You all right?”
He watched as his brother pushed up on his elbows, shaking his head as struggled to his feet. Frowning, he gestured at the girl. “We should probably help her.”
Sam had a way of pointing out the obvious. Jumping up, Dean turned his attention to the fight at hand. With a few adjustments to the pack on his back, he switched his weapon on and pointed it at the ghouls farthest away from the human. A bright burst of flame lit up the night, and five of the ghouls fell to their knees engulfed in fire from his flame thrower. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Sam did the same. Grinning at the carnage, he trudged forward.
The other ghouls scattered, and he surged ahead burning the creatures to ash as he went. Horrible wails left the creatures mouths, their shrieks echoing against the hills of the graveyard. The person fighting the ghouls began driving the few left toward him and Sam, and he nodded his appreciation. The last went up in a howl of flame, and he let off the trigger walking closer to the now still body. All that was left of the last one was a smear of ash across white snow, but he kicked at the mess to make sure.
He glanced up, mouth dropping open as he stared into smoldering green eyes. He was surprised, and he hated being surprised. His lips pressed into a hard line before he gruffly asked, “You fight ghouls?”
Buffy stepped closer, eyeing the flame thrower with appreciation. “No, I knit them mittens. Nifty weapon, you got there.”
He glanced down and made a face. “This old thing?”
She laughed, “So, you and Sam make it a habit to hang out in cemeteries?”
“Only on Thursdays.” He paused, eyeing her distrustfully before he asked, “Are you a hunter, too?”
She cocked her head at his question and glanced out across the black smears littering the white snow of the cemetery. A smile broke out across her face when she caught Sam’s attention and she gave a little wave.
“Are you a hunter or not?” Dean’s voice was a little hostile this time and he watched as her shoulders slumped.
“I’m not sure what you mean by, ‘a hunter’. Most of the time I go by The Slayer.”
“Slayers are mythical warriors—young girls that are called around puberty to fight vampires, demons and other creatures that threaten general society’s safety. Why do ya’ ask?”
“I think we ran into one.”
There was silence on the other end. “They’re not real, Dean. They’re a myth, like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.” Bobby’s voice was hesitant and wondering as he discussed the supposedly mythical creature that was sitting across the bar from Dean eating five orders of hot wings with his brother.
“Well, she’s a girl and she fights like nothing I’ve ever seen before. She was taking on a cemetery of ghouls by herself.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone and Dean glanced over his shoulder as Sam and Buffy hovered over their food, inhaling it like it was the first meal either of them had seen in weeks. Frowning, he watched as she licked sauce from her fingers and heat ran through him.
“Dean? Did you hear me?”
“Huh? Yeah.” He hadn’t heard a word Bobby said since catching a glimpse of her pink tongue lapping up sauce from her index finger.
“If she really is a Slayer, she’ll be connected to a group of Watchers, or so the story goes. They’re the people to worry about. Sure, she’s dangerous, but she takes her orders from them. If you get in their way, they’ll tell her to take you out.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. He stared at the blonde as she cheerfully chatted-up his little brother, and he had the urge to smack Sam upside the head when he leaned in and wiped some hot sauce from the corner of her mouth. She blushed, actually blushed, and looked down at the table. What kinda mythical warrior chick blushed? Grimly, he returned his attention to the conversation. “Thanks for the info, Bobby. I’ll call you later if we learn anything new.” He hit end before his mentor could say anything else, and stalked back to the table. Buffy looked up from her diet soda and gave him a tight grin.
“Finished checking me out with your friend?”
“Huh?” Eyes wide, he tried to look innocent. Her eyes narrowed and he realized his usual act wasn’t working.
“Slayers have good hearing. Comes with the package.” She grabbed a fry from the heaping serving on the table and munched on it. “And, there is a such thing as Santa Claus. He was a demon who’d come down the chimney and eat naughty children.”
His mouth dropped open, but before he could say anything Sam butted in, “Thanks for ruining yet another precious childhood memory.”
She blushed and grabbed another fry. “Anyway, I’m heading out as soon as the tow truck can get my car out of the ditch. If you two ever run into something you need back up for, give me a call.” She handed him a white business card with her name and cellphone number on the front. Dean took it from her, staring at the embossed print for a second before looking up and meeting her gaze. She’d been fighting since she was a teen and without the arsenal of weapons he and his family had always used to take out the monsters.
Sam’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What do you know about crossroad demons?”
“Sam, shut-up.” Dean’s voice came across like a hard slap, and Buffy’s attention bounced between the brothers as the tension at the table cranked up several notches.
“I haven’t heard of them before, but I’ve got a team of people who could research them for you…”
“No.” Dean’s blood boiled as he stared hard at Sam. Fear clutching at him, his shoulders stiffened as he leaned forward, almost spitting his words at his brother, “We don’t need...”
“We do,” Sam interrupted. “Dean made a deal with one and we need to know how to break it.”
Buffy paled at Sam’s words and she glanced at Dean with concern in her eyes. “You made a deal with a demon?” Her voice was soft and wondering, but that only raised Dean’s ire.
“Yeah, and if I break it, Sammy here dies. So, no breaking it, sweetheart. It’s my deal for my soul, so back the fuck off.”
Dean punctuated that thought with his fist slamming on the table top. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she turned and studied Sam. “He brought you back from the dead, didn’t he?”
Sam gave one, short nod.
“His soul for your life?”
Sam nodded again.
“I’ll talk to my people. We’ll come up with something.”
And just like that, Dean was cut out of the equation.
“I told you to mind your own business.”
She turned a glare on him that made his blood run cold. The look in her eyes scared the living shit out of him, and he clenched his jaw as he fought not to go for the knife that was strapped to his ankle.
“Saving innocent people is my business, got it?” With that, the look evaporated and she grinned at Sam. “Siblings are a huge pain in the ass. You’ve got to meet my sister, Dawn. I think you’d like her.”
The Winchesters had checked into a room a few doors down from hers. In all honesty, she’d been kinda glad they were going to be close by. She instinctively trusted the pair, and it was always good to have backup close. Unfortunately, the brothers had been fighting for an hour. The last bit of cursing, on Dean’s part had been punctuated by a slamming door. The sound of his heavy footsteps stopped in front of her door, and she was sure he was standing outside.
There was a tight pause, as she cocked her head and listened. Would he knock, or would he go? Body tensing, she jumped at the sound of his fist rapping on the door. Hitting mute, she slid off the hideous, olive comforter and walked over to the door.
“Who is it?”
With a soft sigh, she undid the lock, and held the door open.
Framed by the open door, he stood with his hands on his hips, eyes glowing with anger. “Not gonna invite me in?”
She shrugged and made a welcoming gesture, but didn’t give in a verbal invite. She knew he wasn’t a vampire, but old habits died hard.
Dean stepped inside, arms crossed, and leveled her a look. “If you save me, Sam dies. I can’t have that.”
Lots of things ran through her mind. Who was he to bring someone back to life? How was Sam supposed to live with the guilt of knowing his life came at the cost of his brother’s soul? Her mouth twisted into a crooked line as she assessed the handsome man in front of her. She liked him. She understood the urge to save a sibling. The image of Dawn bleeding at the top of the tower flitted through her mind, and she let out a long breath.
“What if we can save you both?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Looking to the side, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t want to go to hell, that’s for damn sure, but I can’t let Sammy die.” He turned and finally met her gaze.
Buffy smiled and plopped down on her bed. “Why don’t you and Sam come up to Cleveland for a bit and we’ll figure something out.”
Nodding his assent, he glanced at the television. “What’s on?”
She grinned. “Evil Dead 2, wanna watch?”
He fell into the double bed next to Buffy’s and leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah! Can’t go wrong with Bruce Campbell and a chainsaw.”
She pressed the mute button and the sound came back on. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she felt a small squeeze of her heart. She’d just met this guy, but there was no way she was letting him go to hell. She’d find a way to save him if she had to break through the flaming gates herself and drag his ass home.
End Part I
Written for: Ava
Urban Legend: The Concerned Mother: A man and wife were driving late one night when they were flagged down by a woman that appeared to be hurt. She claimed she'd been in an accident and her baby was alive but trapped in the car. The man told her to wait with his wife and he'd see what he could do. He got to the car and found a couple obviously dead in the front seat but a baby crying in a car seat. He cut the baby loose and returned to his own car. When he got there his wife was alone, he asked her where the woman had went and she replied that she'd followed him to the wreck. He left the baby with his wife and went back to the car to find her. When he got there he realized the woman who'd been instantly killed in the front seat had been the one who'd flagged him down.
What You Want To See: Casual flirtation, a plot
What You Don't Want To See: Age regression (kid!fics), wussy-incompetent hunter Sam