Chapter 2: Sept. 19, 2008: 128 Days Later
Pushing the door open, Dawn quietly peeked through the crack. Luck seemed to be in her corner for once, and the lobby looked empty. As silently as possible, Dawn crept into the hotel, slowly closing the door behind her. She didn’t see Spike anywhere, which was normal. It was very early in the morning, and barring an apocalypse, Spike was usually asleep at this time.
Grip tightening on the small can of mace on her keychain, Dawn let her gaze travel over the room as she headed towards the staircase. Of course Dawn knew that Spike could and would take care of himself, but ever since his death in Sunnydale, Dawn didn’t like to take anything for granted. Spike, in her mind, was supposed to always be there, even if she wasn’t speaking to him. And then one day he was gone, in a 'not supposed to come back unless he had shitty luck like Buffy,' gone. Dawn had mourned him, and then kicked his ass for not telling her he was back.
Now she worried about him, and despite her promise to steer clear of the hotel, she just had to make sure this mystery guy didn’t harm her surrogate big brother.
She was partway through the lobby when the kitchen door opened. Having nowhere to hide, Dawn spun around and stood her ground. She knew where Spike kept all of his weapons, plus Spike had taught her a really awesome move that was meant to bring instant pain to whoever it was used on. When she got a good look at the person, Dawn cursed her fickle luck.
“Hey,” Dawn said as she effected a ditzy air with her high pitched voice and too bright eyes. “Do you like, know where I can find the guy who runs this place? You see, my friend has this like really creepy guy following her, and I heard that this was like the place to go if you had a problem that the cops won’t handle. Cause seriously? This guy is like uber creepy.”
“Um,” the guy said, seemingly unsure as to how to handle Dawn’s absurd request. “We’re not actually opened yet.”
“But you’re door was like totally unlocked,” Dawn replied, widening her eyes a bit more.
“No it wasn’t,” the guy said, eyes narrowing. “How’d you get in here?”
“She used her bloody key,” Spike growled. “Dawn, drop the valley girl act. It’s irritating when your sis does it, and it’s even worse when you do it.”
“Fine,” Dawn said with an irritated huff.
“And she is?” the guy asked, sounding a little unsure.
“She, is Dawn,” Spike answered. He directed his gaze at Dawn, raising his eyebrows pointedly. “She’s a friend, and she’s not supposed to be here right now.”
“Like you’re surprised to see me,” Dawn said with a toss of her head.
“Not really.” Spike shrugged. “Why do you think I’m awake at this ungodly hour?”
“Um, hi,” the guy started, only to have Spike interrupt him.
“Dean, Dawn.” Spike made a quick gesture with his hand indicating the two of them. “Leave us for a minute will ya? I need to have a word with Dawn here.”
“Sure.” Reaching for his jacket, Dean pulled it on and headed towards the front doors.
“There’s a coffee shop around the corner,” Dawn called over her shoulder.
“And let me guess,” Dean replied, gazing at the girl through unimpressed eyes. “You’d like me to bring you some coffee back?”
“No.” Dawn’s grin widened. “I was just trying to be polite about telling you to get lost.”
“Dawn!” Spike growled.
“Don’t sweat it,” Dean said, his whole body having froze up at her words and a scowl on his face. “I didn’t want to hang around to meet Skipper anyway.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
“Skipper?!?!” Dawn shrieked. “How dare he-“
“Dawn, don’t even start!” Spike snapped. “You didn’t have to be rude.”
“When were you going to introduce me?” Dawn’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Dawn…I just wanted to be sure about a few things first.” Spike ran his fingers through his hair, hoping to find a way to explain things without setting Dawn off first. Ever since their reunion, Dawn was finicky about who should be in his life, and what he should be doing. Spike figured it was left over from when he was ‘dead’, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.
“Like if he was a mass murdering psycho or not?” Dawn asked.
“I seriously doubt that’s the case,” Spike said with a roll of his eyes.
“Then why all the secrecy?”
“Was just trying to respect his privacy,” Spike grumbled.
“While keeping me out of the loop.”
“You’re not out of the loop. You are the bloody loop!” Spike snapped, finally having enough of playing twenty questions.
“You haven’t told anyone else about Dean?” Dawn’s stance softened, and she sounded almost hopeful.
“No. We haven’t really had a chance to talk yet.”
“Oh. So are you planning on telling her?” Dawn asked, her suspicion back in full force.
“Yeah,” Spike said, eyes narrowed. “Once, as I’ve already said, I’ve actually had a chance to discuss things with Dean.”
“Enough Dawn.” Spike’s glare intensified. “He was a bit knackered last night, and you know the type of hours I keep.”
“Plus, I wasn’t supposed to be here.” Dawn added. “Though you knew I’d come anyway.”
“Not the point, Dawn. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and none of this concerns you at the moment.”
“Fine, but if he tries to kill you, I’m going to resurrect you just so I can say I told you so.”
“Fine! Now be gone. I know you’ve got class in an hour.”
When Dean returned, Dawn was nowhere to be seen. Spike however, was sitting behind the front counter, head resting on the smooth surface.
“Hey, man,” Dean said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Spike said, finally raising his head. “Hurricane Dawn has left the building.”
“She was only looking out for you.”
“I know.” Spike sighed. “Dean, we need to talk.”
“I know,” Dean said, taking the seat right across from Spike. “Before you say anything, I just wanted to thank you for letting me crash here last night.”
“I’m not kicking you out.”
“You’re not?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised. “Oh…”
Spike let out a low chuckle. “I just wanted to know how you were doing. If you had any ideas of how you wanted to go about doing... whatever it is you think you need to do.”
“I though you were the one with the ideas.”
“Well mate,” Spike said. “My plans usually consist of find demon, kill demon, get a beer. I’m too bloody impatient for anything long term.”
“Is that right?” Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess that makes two of us.”
“Well, last night, I didn’t plan on anything beyond finding out if what I’d seen was real or not.”
“Makes sense,” Spike said with a nod. “Anyway, you can crash here for the time being. Tonight we’ll hit the streets, see if any rumors are circulating.”
“Sounds like a decent plan.” Dean nodded, scratching his chin. “What about that friend you mentioned last night?”
“We’re meeting with him later tonight.”
“Alright,” Dean said with a nod.
“We could also go to the police,” Spike suggested. “See if they can come up with anything.”
“No police.” Dean shook his head. “Not yet at least.”
“All right,” Spike said. “We’ll go down that route when you’re ready.”
“Spike…” Dean said, his words trailing off as he stood up. “I‘ll be back later. I‘m gonna catch a few Z‘s.”
With that, Dean turned and left the lobby, heading back up to his room. He needed time to think, and he thought that Spike might need some time to sleep as well.
Sighing, Spike sat staring at the phone. It was a simple device. It let you connect with people all over the world, either by talking to them, texting them, or if you were behind the times, through the evils of dial up internet. Spike, however, felt like he was staring at a Rugaru. Disgusting things really, what with their flakey skin and rotten teeth, and hunger for human flesh.
Taking a deep breath, Spike reached out, picked up the phone, and dialed before he could change his mind. He had to talk to her before Dawn did, or Buffy would be calling him demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing. Unfortunately for Spike, she picked up on the first ring.
“Please tell me there isn’t another apocalypse.”
“Funny, Slayer,” Spike grumbled, though his amusement carried over the phone. “Your sister said the same thing when I talked to her yesterday.”
“That’s because you rarely call,” Buffy said.
“I have my reasons,” Spike hedged, not wanting to get into another conversation about the state of their relationship.
“So, what’s up?” Buffy asked, for once letting the subject drop to Spike’s relief.
“Well, you see, I was out last night, fighting the good fight and all…”
“Spike, what did you do now?” Buffy sounded annoyed.
“Nothing!” Spike said quickly. “It was just a near miss, and someone stepped in and helped.”
“Who?” Buffy asked, suspicion coloring her words. “No one just steps in to help. Unless it was one of the local slayers-”
“No,” Spike said. “It was a bloke I believe is named Dean. Apparently he had a vision of me dusting.”
“And you believed him? And what do you mean you think his name is Dean?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Spike said. “He claims he doesn’t remember a bloody thing about himself. Just has a bag with a name tag that has Dean written on it.”
“Spike.” It was Buffy’s turn to sigh. “You’re letting him stay there at the hotel aren’t you?”
“He’s not a bad person,” Spike said, his hackles rising. “He's just a bit lost, is all. Know what that’s like.”
“I wasn’t implying-”
“I know,” Spike sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I told him I’d help him try to figure out who he is. I’ve got a few ideas, and hopefully one of those will pan out.”
“Why not just call the police?” Buffy asked.
“Um…because he’s half demon,” Spike said in a low rush, hoping she didn’t catch what he’d said.
“He’s what?!?!” Buffy cried out. “Spike! This guy might be working for Wolfram and Hart, or some other baddy that wants your head.”
“He’s not.” Spike’s voice was firm, a coldness having entered it that was rarely heard unless he was pissed.
“Then let Willow check him out,” Buffy said, her tone matching his.
“No,” Spike said, standing his ground. “I told you, I’ve already got a few ideas I want to try out first. If these don’t pan out, and if Dean agrees, we’ll let Willow take a look at him. Until then, it’s a no go. Promise me, Buffy.”
“All right,” Buffy said, exasperation lacing her words. “Just keep me updated okay? I worry.”
“I will, luv,” Spike said, his voice softening.
“Good, cause if you didn’t, I’d have to come down there and kick your ass.”
“I’d like to see you try!” Spike laughed as he hung up the phone, counting this phone call as a success. Hopefully, this meant his day would only get better.
Spike didn’t want to laugh. He really didn’t, but he couldn’t stop the first few giggles that slipped free. Lorne was dressed in his usual garish suits, topped with a beige trench coat and fedora. His bright red shoes clashed horribly with the coat and hat.
“Hello Lorne,” Spike said, his laughter flowing along his words. “Glad you could make it.”
“Spike,” Lorne said, red eyes hidden behind overly large sunglasses. His entire posture was guarded, as if he would bolt at the tiniest sound.
“Angel isn’t here,” Spike said. “He’s off in Europe. Doesn’t even know I know how to get a hold of you.”
“Oh, well in that case,” Lorne said, pulling off his hat and coat. The sunglasses went next, placed in the pocket of his suit coat. “What can I do for you?”
“Got someone here I want you to read,” Spike said.
“And whose the lucky contestant?”
“I think that would be me,” a voice replied from the staircase. Turning his head, Lorne took in the young man holding tightly to the stair railing, anxiety and fear pouring off him in waves.
“Dean, this is Lorne,” Spike said. “Lorne here is a Pylean empath demon. He can read people, their emotions, souls, futures, hell, even their destinies, and all they need to do is sing.”
“You want me to sing?” Dean asked, shock settling on his features.
“You want answers?”
“Right, karaoke time it is.” Dean came down the rest of the way. “So, Big Green, what do I sing?”
“Anything, as long as you don’t call me Big Green again,” Lorne said, more amused than annoyed.
“Okay.” Dean nodded. After a few minutes, Dean started singing. His voice wasn’t as bad as Angel’s but it wasn’t good either. If he'd been a bit more relaxed, Lorne knew that the kid would have had the theatrics to back the song up. As it was, all the demon needed to understand anything about Dean was his very telling choice of song and the sad inflection in his voice. Sole Survivor would never look the same again.
“Enough,” Lorne said after only a few bars. Turning to Spike, “He’s legit, and he’s yours. Please, keep try to keep this one in better shape than Angel did his.”
“'Scuse me?” Dean asked, confused.
“What about his memories?” Spike asked.
“Can’t say,” Lorne said with a shrug. “The Powers are being stingy on the info. Just take care of him. He’s important.”
“And he’s right here.”
“Sorry, mate,” Spike said. “But it seems like I was right.”
“About the whole seer thing?” Dean demanded.
“Yep,” Spike replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“Okay, but what does that mean?” Dean asked, eyes darting between the two demons.
“It means, Dean-o, that you get to play Robin to Spike’s Not-So Dark Knight,” Lorne answered, a slightly amused grin on his bright red lips.
“I’m his seer?” Dean asked in disbelief, pointing at Spike and gesticulating wildly.
“Seems so,” Lorne chuckled, nodding.
Dean glanced at the vampire, a bemused smirk on his face. “Well, fuck me.”
~~~~~~~October 1, 2008: 141 Days Later
“Dean!” Spike bellowed up the stairs. “Get your ass down here! We’ve got to move.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Dean grumbled as he rushed down the stairs. “Dude, chill. We’ll make it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Dean said with a grin. “She’s the love of your life and even though you guys aren’t together, she still owns your balls.”
“She does not!” Spike growled as he pulled his coat on. “It’s just if we’re late getting there, Buffy will be pissy and I don’t want to ruin Dawn’s big night. 'S her eighteenth birthday an' all.”
“Dude, that is one lame ass excuse,” Dean said with a laugh.
“Come on,” Spike growled grabbing Dean by his neck and dragging him out the door.
When they arrived at the restaurant, luckily on time, they were greeted with an exuberant Dawn, and friendly but awkward smiles from the Scoobies and Angel.
“Spike!” Dawn cried out with a grin, as she flung her arms around his neck.
“Bit,” Spike chuckled, lifting her off the ground as he hugged her tightly. “Ah, sweetheart, you’re looking lovely.”
“Thank you,” Dawn preened with a quick bow, her blue eyes glittering in delight. Turning, she gave Dean a quick hug of his own. "Hi, handsome!"
Dean laughed, ruffling Dawn's long, layered hair. "Hello to you, too, beautiful."
Snuggling into Spike and looping one of her arms through Dean's, Dawn gestured wildly to gain everyone else's attention. “Everyone, this is Dean, Dean, this is everyone.”
“Buffy, Angel, Xander, Willow, and Giles,” Spike offered in a low whisper. Dean simply nodded and waved, sticking close to Spike and Dawn.
Once they had sat down and orders had been taken, Willow leaned forward, eyes focused on Dean.
“So, Dean,” Willow said. “How do you like working for Spike?”
“Um,” Dean said, glancing at Spike briefly. “I don’t really work for him.”
“We work together,” Spike stated, voice firm. “He has the visions, and then we go out and kill whatever he saw.”
“We don’t always kill things,” Dean said with a shrug. “Sometimes we blow things up for no good reason.”
“It was a vamp nest.” Spike’s shrug was casual, as if blowing stuff up was an everyday occurrence.
“There were only three vampires,” Dean said as he turned to focus on Spike.
“You’re forgetting the troll.”
“There was no troll,” Dean corrected. “The troll was underneath the candy store, which you also burned down.”
“You helped,” Spike said, a defensive note to his voice.
“Well, yeah,” Dean answered. “It was a troll. The damn thing stunk.”
“Wait a minute,” Angel said holding up a hand. “You routinely burn down buildings?”
“Only if they’re abandoned or closed,” Spike said, a grin widening on his face when he heard Buffy’s stifled giggle.
“Spike…” Angel started, the warning tone in his voice all too clear.
“Don’t worry Angelus,” Spike said, eyes rolling. “We get the job done.”
“How did you two meet?” Xander asked, eye focusing on the two men.
“I had a vision and saved his lazy ass,” Dean answered, grin firmly in place.
“So the visions brought you to L.A?” Willow asked. When Dean’s face became distant and he hurriedly excused himself, she glanced at Spike and quickly apologized, worry in her eyes. “I’m sorry, um…I…what did I say?”
“You didn’t tell them.”
“Sorry. I kinda felt it wasn’t my story to tell,” Buffy said with an apologetic shrug. “Besides, Dawn vouched for him.”
Watching Dean’s retreating form, Spike sighed. “He doesn’t remember. Woke up in a bus station thirteen days ago with a locker key. The bag inside the locker had the name Dean, with the last initial W on the tag. He found me shortly after that.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Giles asked. The tone of his voice caused Spike’s hackles to rise.
“Because Dean didn‘t want to,” Spike stated firmly. “Look, guys, the poor bugger is confused. Knows he’s part demon, but he’s afraid of what he was like before he lost his memories. That bag of his had some wonky stuff in it. And besides, it’s not as if we haven’t looked. We just haven’t found anything.”
“Maybe I could hack into the police records,” Willow offered. “See if anything pops up.”
“Ask him first,” Spike said. “If he say’s no, then drop it.”
“Okay,” Willow said with a nod. When Dean came back, the subject had been changed to recent activities, most centering around the most embarrassing demon slaying experiences.
“He seems nice,” Buffy said hesitantly from her seat next to Spike. They were both studiously not looking at each other, their eyes trained on Dean and Dawn as the former twirled the birthday girl around the dance floor.
“He’s a good friend,” was all Spike said. If she expected him to make this easy for her, she was dead wrong.
“You guys seem to be doing a lot of good,” Buffy said, trying to pull Spike into a conversation. “Well, you know, aside from the whole random blowing up of things.”
“We’re a team. 'Sides, I seem to remember you committing a bit of arson yourself.”
“Spike…” Buffy said with a sigh, her words trailing off.
“Why does it have to be like this?” Buffy sighed, finally turning to look at Spike.
“You know why,” Spike grumbled keeping his eyes focused on the dance floor.
“I thought you of all people would understand.”
“Understand what? That you love me but you refuse to be with me?” Spike said, eyebrow raised and voice bitter. “Explain to me exactly how I’m supposed to understand that.”
“I need time to grow,” Buffy said. “To figure out who I am-“
“You heard me,” Spike snapped, scowling. “If you really love someone, you grow with them, and damn what everyone else thinks, especially a certain poofy-haired former love of your life.”
Standing Spike went over to the dancing couple. Tapping Dean on the shoulder, he cut in, taking Dawn across the floor in an improvised waltz.
Buffy couldn’t take her eyes off of him. It was the same argument everything they spoke. She needed time. Time to figure herself out, to become a cookie. Why Angel understood and Spike didn’t, (and why Spike always assumed that it was because Angel was whispering words of doubt into her ear), Buffy didn’t know. Thoughts swirled inside her head, and she failed to notice when Dean sat down next to her.
“Really screwed that one up didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?” Buffy asked, an incredulous expression on her face.
“I heard you guys,” Dean said. “All I know is if it were me, I wouldn’t walk away.”
“You so don’t know a thing about this-” Buffy began, a nervous laugh and a flustered glow on her face.
“I get not knowing yourself,” Dean interrupted, eyes serious and focused on Buffy, the emotion and wisdom in them so intense that whether she wanted to or not, Buffy couldn't have looked away. “I get feeling lost. But if I found out that there was someone out there who loved me the way Spike loves you, I would not throw that away. No matter what anyone else said, or did, or thought.”
"But it's not anyone else, it's me," she whispered. "I want to make sure that I've completely figured myself out and that I'm in the right place before I can even think about being with him. It has nothing to do with anyone else."
Dean shook his head. "You were with him before, right? And you've known him for so long... Buffy, wouldn't it make more sense to let yourself grow with him and be happy, instead of trying to grow without him and making the both of you miserable?" He stared at her for a moment longer, then shook his head and shrugged. Standing, Dean went to join Angel and Xander at the bar, leaving Buffy alone with her thoughts.
The next night, the atrium was empty and had been so virtually all evening, what with Buffy, Spike, and Angel off killing a pack of vampires terrorizing a neighborhood. Xander, Dawn, and Giles were in Wesley's old library going over books and trying to find away to kill a demon living under some old lady’s house. Willow knew that Dean had stayed behind as the vision he’d had of the vampire pack had been a bit more brutal than most, but finding him had been more difficult than she thought. She made her way down the stairs of the hotel and looked around before walking across the lobby to Spike and Dean's office, pausing to knock at the door.
Poking her head into the doorway, she said, “Hey, Dean," before glancing around the room and frowning in confusion. All she could see was Dean’s leather coat on Spike's chair. Which was why she yelped when it moved and Dean bolted straight up from underneath it, yowling at the stab of pain to his head from sitting up so fast.
“Yeah?” Dean groaned as he lifted tired and pain filled eyes to the petite redhead.
“I talked to Spike, but he told me I should ask you,” Willow started, her voice rife with hesitation. “Anyway, um, if you want, I can surf through the police records, without alerting them to you and all. This would be strictly confidential.”
“You think you might be able to find out something about me,” Dean said. After a brief pause, Dean slowly nodded, mindful of the stabbing torture still picking at his brain. “Do it. This not knowing crap is bullshit.”
Standing shakily, Dean left Willow in the office in time to see Angel, Buffy and Spike all clomp through the doors at the same time. Everyone else had moved into the lobby and were scattered around, talking and leafing through books.
“She ask you?” Spike inquired quietly from Dean’s left.
“She going to look,” Dean answered, then sighed. “Spike, am I making the right decision here?”
“Only time will tell, mate,” Spike said, patting Dean's back lightly in consolation. “And its your decision to make.”
“I know,” Dean said. “It’s just... It’s been several weeks, and we haven’t found a damn thing.”
“Well, if anyone can find something, it's Willow.”
“Man, I hope you’re right.”
Three days later, Willow walked into the lobby, folder clutched to her chest.
“Um, guys,” Willow said. Her voice was shaky. “I found something.”
“Tell me.” Dean was immediately out of his chair and standing before her, the anxiety in his movements belying the way his arms were crossed over his chest and the blankness of his face. Spike stood next to him, supporting him without invading his space while Dawn hovered behind the two men, worry creasing her brow and twisting her lips.
“Well, your full name is Dean John Winchester. You were born on January 24, 1979 in Lawrence, Kansas to a Mary and John Winchester, both deceased, and it seems you were... wanted by the FBI for..." She swallowed hard, her eyes softening in sympathy. "For murder."
“So I was an evil bastard then,” Dean murmured with a nod, swallowing hard around the knot in his throat. “Funny, but I don’t feel evil.”
Feeling it best to just get the rest of it out of the way all at once, Willow blurted out, “You were also wanted for credit card fraud, insurance scams, assault, breaking and entering, grave desecration, and impersonating a federal officer.” As she finished reading off the list of crimes, she could see the others' eyes grow wider and wider.
“Okay,” Buffy whispered from her spot against the counter, looking shell-shocked. “So wasn’t expecting that.”
“Now what?” Spike asked. “It’s not like we’re turning him in.”
“No, well, we can’t,” Willow said, then quickly adding, “Not that we would.”
“What else is there?” Dean growled, eyes flashing black.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Apparently you died while in custody,” Willow said reading from the print out. “The official report said it was a gas leak.”
“Somehow I doubt it was a gas leak,” Buffy snorted in disgust.
“No, I probably just killed everyone getting away,” Dean snarled as he turned to leave.
“Dean, wait,” Willow said.
“Why?” Dean asked. “So I can learn how I used to nail puppies to trees?”
“No,” Willow said. “I don’t think you did any of this stuff. See here, it says you killed all of these people in St. Louis, but see here? I don’t think it was you.”
“How can you tell?” Buffy asked coming over to Willow’s side.
“For awhile the authorities thought he had been killed in St. Louis. They even buried his body, but here in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, they realize he’s not dead. They end up blaming Dean for several murders and a bank robbery,” Willow continued. “It lists one of the murder victims as being a twin to a lady who worked at the bank. Only the lady swears that she doesn’t have a sister.”
“Shape shifter?” Spike asked.
“Looks like,” Willow said. “And the graves he supposedly desecrated, all linked to unusual deaths in the area. Plus, after Dean left the area, the killings stopped.”
“Vengeful spirits,” Dawn concluded, her eyes lighting up as she nodded. She spun toward Dean smiling with relief. “So you were some sort of demon, evil spirit hunter then!”
“Looks like,” Willow said as she handed Dean the file. “One more thing." She glanced up at him and smiled gently. "You had a brother named Samuel. It seems he was with you when you were supposedly killed.”
“I have a brother?” Dean asked, eyes wide. His shoulders fell when he registered what exactly Willow had said, and he stumbled backwards. His knees hit the couch and he sank down in disbelief. "I had a brother." Spike sat down next to him, angling himself toward the younger man and watching him with concern. “He’s dead. I’m dead.”
“Nah, mate,” Spike said. “I think it’s obvious that you’re not dead. As for your brother…”
“He might not be dead either,” Buffy said softly, her eyes full of compassion as she took a seat on Dean’s other side, her hand tentatively covering his. “I mean, like Spike said, you’re not, so maybe the FBI were mistaken.”
“I can do a locator spell,” Willow offered. “See if I can find him.”
“Yeah,” Dean said with a nod. “Please, I have to know.”
“Okay.” Turning, Willow grabbed her bag and went into the office. A few minutes later she returned, a small slip of paper in her hands. “If I’m correct, it would seem that one Samuel Winchester is currently in South Dakota.”
“No!” Buffy cried, grabbing Dean's arm and stopping him in his tracks. He spun around and looked at her incredulously.
“He’s my brother!”
“And he probably thinks you’re dead!” Buffy said. “Dean, think about this logically for a minute. If your brother was the one who was dead, and you knew he'd been gone for nearly five months... What would you think if he just showed up on your doorstep alive and well?"
Dean sputtered, but his frantic look was gone, and he'd stopped straining so hard against Buffy's grip. She glanced at Spike pleadingly, and he nodded gently at her. She looked back at Dean and said, "Look, just let me go and talk to him. Get him to come here.”
“What if you have a vision?” Buffy asked. “What then?”
“I don’t know!” Dean yelled running his hands through his hair. “All I know is that I’ve finally got a chance to get answers and…”
“I’ll make sure he comes here,” Buffy said softly. “Even if I have to conk him over the head to do it.”