Chapter Eight

A/N: *sporks computer* This stupid thing died on me a dozen times while writing this chapter. I have now learned how to save after every single stupid sentence.
A/N 2: Gratuitous swearing...? I kind of feel the need to mention it, because it felt like I was swearing every other word in a couple of parts...
A/N 3: Question for you. Ghostfacers (re)appearance? y/n?


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August 1984. Lawrence, Kansas.

Buffy leaned further into John, eyes only half on the movie in front of her. Apparently, Mike had wanted John to watch this movie for a while now, and John had finally ran out of excuses. So he had taken her out to see Ghostbusters with him, right after she had been forced to admit she hadn't seen it either. She had been busy kicking First Evil butt back when it came out, and the idea of supernatural 'ghost hunters' hadn't really interested her in the first place.

There was also something slightly awkward about watching a movie with John. It wasn't that she didn't like spending time with him, but there were so many other things they could be doing that seemed more fun. Their picnics and fooling around at Furguson's was far more preferable than sitting in one place for two hours. Hell, even watching an older movie back at his house would be more entertaining, since they could talk to each other and throw popcorn at the tv during bad scenes.

It wasn't even that the movie was bad; certainly much better than she had expected it to be. It was interesting and funny, and had she been with Willow or Xander, they probably would've been having a blast. But she wanted to be talking and laughing and moving and... able to see John's face. She was getting spoiled rotten. She had been to movies with boyfriends before, and she'd liked it then. But she was starting to think that was because she hadn't been as interested in them as she was now with John. This seemed like such a waste of time.

She sighed, dropping her head completely onto John's shoulder. He turned slightly in response, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Bored?" he whispered, trying not to disturb the other people around them.

"Just a little," she murmured back, lying through her teeth. She was practically bored to tears. "I like spending time with you, though." That at least was truthful. Even though she'd rather be doing something more fun, she did enjoy just sitting in his presence.

"If I know Mike, he's gonna quiz me on the stupid thing once I get back. But I'd rather be playing pool with you at Furguson's."

Buffy felt a comforting warmth unfurl around her heart. He really was too good to her.

"Me too," she replied, stretching up a little bit to kiss the curve of his neck. "Let's stop there after the movie."

"Sounds like a plan, darlin'."


◊◊◊


July 2012. Richardson, Texas.

It was official. Dean was five seconds away from strangling those Hellhound's Lair guys.

He and Sam had finally figured out what the fuck was going on with this so called 'Hell House'. The whole Tibetan spirit sigil by that moron Craig Thurston, and then dumb and dumber posting it up on their website allowed enough 'meditative thoughts' (which was a bunch of bull) to bring a freakin' tulpa to life. Should be an easy fix after that, right? They had the 'who did it' and the 'what is it', and had some good ideas on the 'how to kill it'. There weren't any records of a ghost tulpa, which was slightly problematic, but since a solid golem tulpa could be killed, they figured an incorporeal one could be wasted too. Just had to treat it like a slightly more dangerous ghost.

Find it's weakness, since it didn't have a grave to salt and burn the bones.

It's weakness wasn't that hard, either. Even though the tulpa had gained a life of it's own and couldn't be brought down by taking that image off the website, it still changed according to the whims of the people thinking about it. They could manufacture a weakness that was easy to exploit that way.

But apparently, the weakness they'd tried to create in Mordechai was a bust, because dumb and dumber did something stupid with their computer website shit. And their shouting and screams were really starting to grate on his nerves, so strangling them would not only make him feel better, it would also get rid of the ringing in his ears. Two for one deal. Not to mention that Sam had been acting strange since he had heard the two of them spouting some retarded little mantra - "What Would Bunny Do?" or something like that - and a Sam without his head in the game was a big fucking problem. That could be laid at their feet, too.

"Sammy!" he hollered, trying to jolt his brother back into the proper head-space. "You got any bright ideas?"

Sam shook his head slowly, but at least Dean knew he'd stopped thinking about whatever the fuck dumb and dumber had triggered in his crazy thought processes. "The last version said he slit his wrists, didn't it?"

"You really wanna get that close to this bastard?" Dean asked incredulously, noting that dumb and dumber were taking frantic steps away from them. And of course, Mordechai appeared right behind them, swinging that sick looking ax towards their heads. They turned at just the right moment, screaming and running through the next open door.

"Hey!" Sam shouted, moving after them. Sam would make sure dumb and dumber weren't killed. And Dean was getting really sick of this shit. He ran back outside the house to the Impala, throwing the trunk open and snagging the can of gasoline and one of those pink aerosol hairspray cans.

He ripped the cap off of the gasoline, pouring the stuff in a line across the room and into a few of the scraps of fabric still laying around. Chucking the container aside, it was now time to find Sam. Dean walked quickly through the house, seeing red when he caught a glimpse of Sam being choked by this sonofabitch.

"Hey!" he bellowed, managing to snag that tulpa's attention. "Take this, y'bastard." The aerosol can was up and spraying, catching the flame of his lighter as a cloud of fire sped straight towards the fuckin' thing. Sam slid to the ground and under the flame, groaning audibly even as he started moving towards Dean.

"Go, go, go," Dean chanted, speeding after his brother, tossing the lighter back into the house as they crossed the threshold of the porch. The house went up into flames behind them, fast enough that he could feel the sudden heat on his back as they continued running.

"This was your solution?" Sam panted, breathing hard through the blossoming bruises on his neck as he looked back at the house. Dean spared enough attention to see Mordechai dissolve into smoke, curling into the flames, before he turned back on Sam.

"You weren't giving me any other ideas," Dean replied sharply. "You wanna tell me what the fuck was going through your head tonight?"

"What? Dean, it wasn't my fault that the website–"

"No, smartass, I want to know what's got you all tied up into knots these past couple weeks, and why dumb and dumber got you dreaming in the middle of a fucking hunt."

"You call them dumb and dumber?" Sam deflected, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't dodge the question, Sammy," Dean growled.

Sam's face shut down. "Don't worry about it, Dean. It won't happen again."

"You sure?" he demanded. "You've been off in fucking la-la-land doing whatever on your computer and getting more tense and bitchy every day. What are so worked up about, Sam?"

"It's nothing," Sam replied, steel in his tone. The bastard sounded like he had when he and dad had fought about him going to college. Dean wanted to scream, since whatever the fuck Sammy was hiding, he wouldn't be spilling the beans anytime soon. And there could be a big fucking problem, but he didn't know or not because Sammy wouldn't fucking tell him!

He grunted, storming past Sam towards the car. If he pushed him more now, they'd just get into a screaming fit and that was not conducive to the type of relationship they needed to work together. Well, neither was blatantly keeping secrets from each other, but Sam wasn't giving him a choice in that one.

"Let's get out of here," he grunted, waiting as Sam slid into the passenger seat before starting the car.


◊◊◊


August 2012. Cleveland, Ohio.

"Come in," Buffy said absently, straightening the papers on her desk before she looked up to her guest. A light smile graced her lips as she caught sight of Angel.

"I've got the preliminary reports on the Winchesters for you," he waved a stack of papers in the air, coming to sit down in the chair opposite her.

She frowned at his non-expression. "Bad news?"

Angel grimaced, "Depends on what you consider bad news."

"Well, we aren't getting anywhere with you keeping the info to yourself, so fork it over."

"John Winchester, born in late 1956. He joined the Marines at one point, but the records on that are a bit sketchy. He probably entered into the service before he was of age. He does have a number of awards from his time in the service, though. He married in 1985, and was widowed in 1990."

Buffy tugged the folder closer to her, flipping it open to scan over the basics. "Poor guy," she murmured. "His wife died in a fire."

"Right, leaving him with two sons, Sam and Dean. He stuck around his hometown for a few more months after his wife's death before starting a never-ending trek across the US."

"He was reported to Child Protective Services?" she asked, looking up from the files.

Angel nodded, "Once, and was deemed an acceptable father. He started hiding whatever he was doing better after that."

"It gets a lot harder after CPS calls you in twice," Buffy agreed sourly. Unfortunately, the Council had lots of experience in dealing with CPS, and Buffy was usually heading up those investigations into the IWC.

"Those are the official records. On the not so official side, I'm as sure as I can be that he's been into credit card scams, breaking and entering, vandalism and grave desecration."

Buffy's frown deepened as she continued browsing, nasty little highlights jumping out at her. "The oldest son was a serial killer? And he actually has a police record, along the same lines you thought their father should have. Wait a minute, the youngest son's girlfriend died in a fire remarkably similar to their mother's? I'm not seeing how this couldn't be 'bad news', Angel. I'm five minutes away from calling in a favor with the President."

"I think they're in our line of business."

Buffy's mouth opened soundlessly, eyes wide and incredulous. She couldn't have been more surprised if Angel had up and told her she was pregnant again. Thankfully, he waited patiently for her to move past the shock.

"Angel," she growled out, "This isn't funny, if they're after Dawn–"

"We don't know for sure yet if they're after Dawn or not. What I do know is that Gunn has a passing acquaintance with a man named Gordon Walker. He figures himself to be a vampire hunter of sorts, and only believes in the black and white sides of the supernatural."

"Why was Gunn working with him, then?" Buffy asked, eyes narrowed. She had managed to pick up a semblance of patience over the years, but when it concerned her daughter, her older tendencies of 'kill first, questions later' were quick to rush back to the fore.

"Gunn used to be like that too," Angel pointed out noncommittally, continuing when he saw the glint of violence in her eyes darken. "In any case, the last conversation they had, Walker was talking about a crazy hunter who was dragging his two children into the fight. His name was John Winchester."

"So he's a hunter. That doesn't exactly inspire me with confidence, especially when I think of the ones we've ran into before. He could be wanting to use her as a sacrifice to take down something bigger and badder than usual."

"I don't believe that is the case, but you're right. We aren't going to take that chance. Gunn has a list of hunter hotspots, so to speak, that Walker gave him way back when. Some of them probably don't exist anymore, but we could send in a few people to get an idea of what's going on. Find out more about them without setting off any alarms."

Buffy tapped her lips contemplatively. "I could probably spare a couple of Watchers that are complete nulls so that they don't ping any radars."

"I would appreciate that. Connor offered to help, but he's about as inconspicuous as a pink elephant."

A wry smile crossed her face. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

Angel's lips turned up in a quirky half smile. It reminded her of when they had dated, how she had been so sure he was her soulmate. But she hadn't felt that way since before Dawn came along, and then her daughter had consumed her life and soul to the point where other lovers never interested her. Now, Angel was just the beloved older brother and friend.

"So what were you working on when I came in?" he questioned casually, leaning back in the leather chair.

Buffy sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Do you remember when Willow put up a safety net for all Slayers?"

"Of course I do," came the immediate reply. "The power she used to set that thing up world wide was enormous. It had monsters running scared for weeks, since nobody could figure out what it did."

"Yeah, well, we weren't sure if It would work," Buffy waved her hand irritatedly. "She had been working on the concept for years, and had done all the tweaking she could to make sure it would function. All that was left was to test it out."

"And it worked."

"Yeah, and it worked. It would pull any Slayer and anyone immediately near her to the nearest Council House if she was dying."

"So what happened? Did it fall or something?"

"No, it works great." She blew a frustrated breath out of her mouth. "In fact, it works so well that it managed to pull a Potential and her mother to the San Francisco Council House."

Angel startled. "This safety net can identify Slayers that haven't been called yet?"

"Apparently. And not just Slayers that haven't been called yet, but Slayers that haven't even been born yet."

"Do you mean to tell me that...?"

"Yeah," Buffy laughed bitterly. "The mother wasn't even a month pregnant with her child."

"Christ," Angel swore, running his own hand through his hair. "Is she okay? I mean, what a horrible way to be introduced to the supernatural."

"That's the million dollar question. She was hurt badly, and even though her baby is a Potential, she isn't. In fact, she was put into a time stasis so that they could heal her without causing her or her child undue trauma. They were so busy trying to keep her alive that the official reports are just now making it to my desk."

The expression on Angel's face sunk, as if he knew that she had more bad news to tell.

"Her injuries were like mine, Angel. She was burned alive with a huge slit across her stomach." Buffy could feel her eyes watering, but she forced her tears back. She had really thought she had moved past this, but apparently not. It was wrenching something inside of her, knowing that another woman would be going through the same thing that she did. Nobody deserved that. "The healers there have hypothesized that because of how she was treated in the stasis, there is a possibility that she won't lose her memories like I did."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Angel scrambled to find something positive to remark upon.

"If she keeps her memories, she'll also have the memories of how she was attacked. And as much as I'd like to know who did this to me, what's more worrying is how she will react. She's a civilian, as far as we know."

"You haven't been able to ID her?"

"No," came subdued reply. "She was wearing a nightgown when she was pulled in. And the safety net doesn't try to catalog where it was pulling the Slayer from. We know it has to be somewhere in the western North America area, since the next Council Houses are here in Cleveland and then in Brazil and New Zealand, but that still leaves a lot of ground to cover."

"What about something mundane, like fingerprinting or–"

"She was burned, Angel. We can't be sure that her fingerprints are exactly the same. And we've already ran her fingerprints and her DNA through the system, anyways. No hits."

"God, Buffy, I'm so sorry." Angel managed to pick himself up and move around the desk to embrace her tightly.

"It's stupid to be feeling sorry for myself," Buffy said sharply, turning her would-be tears into anger, which was always easier to direct. "I should be working to help her out. They're going to pull her out of stasis in a month, when they're sure that everything has been healed and she's back at one hundred percent. I'm going to be there. She'll have lost months and it won't seem like it, since her baby won't have grown any in stasis. I want to be there to help."

"And you'll be there," Angel said firmly. "Even if we've got another apocalypse, you're going to be there with her. We can make sure the world continues to spin on it's axis for a couple of days."

"Thank you," Buffy murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose to relieve the tension building up as a headache. "I'll call up those Watchers for you in the next couple of days, get them started on their new assignments."

"Sure thing, Buffy."


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September 2012. Fitchburg, Wisconsin.


Sam walked out of Glasow's Lunch with two cups of hot coffee in his hands, not really paying attention as he bumped into someone at the corner of the street.

"Shit, sorry," he apologized, shifting the second cup of coffee to balance in his other hand while he tried to keep his bump-ee from falling.

"M'good, it's okay," a familiar feminine voice replied, causing him to take a closer look at the woman he had bumped into. Apparently just as she had taken a closer look at him. "Sam?"

"Uh, hi, Dawn." He nervously took a step back. Fuck, he should have thought of this before. Fitchburg wasn't that far away from Fort Atkinson. "What're you doing here?"

Dawn looked at him strangely, but answered anyways. "The daughter of a friend of mine got sick and she wanted me to come take a look at her. I just got in from London the other day."

"You're a nurse?"

Dawn's smile turned slightly wry, "No. She assumed it was something else and thought I could help. Anyways, Jeannie was right as rain this morning, so it looks like it was a false alarm."

Sam felt a lump form in his throat as he reluctantly remembered the list of hospitalized children. Jeannie Conwell had been brought in the night before Mary Tarnower, who had been promptly followed by Bethany Tarnower, and then Asher.

"So what're you doing here? Getting cheaper lodging for the Wilhelm Tell Festival in New Glarus? I know the festival had been pushed to a later date than usual..."

"Something like that," he agreed readily. "I, er, should be out of town by tonight, if you're wor–"

Dawn laughed, a spark in her eyes that somehow felt achingly familiar to him. "It's a free country, sweetheart. I'll admit, I didn't expect to run into you again since you're from Kansas, but if I really wanted to keep you away from me, I would've filed a restraining order or something."

"Dawn!" a lady down the street called, waving her hands in the air.

She turned at the shout, grinning when she caught sight of the other woman. "Yo, Lena! More good news?"

Lena came up closer to them, and Sam felt his heart drop into his stomach. She was one of the mothers they had interviewed back at the hospital. Any hope he had held that 'Jeannie' wasn't one of the kids affected by the shtriga was just tossed out the window. And shit, Mrs. Conwell knew him as Dr. Jerry Kaplan from the CDC, so he had to get out of here fast.

"It was, uh, nice seeing you again, Dawn," he spoke quickly, "But my brother is waiting for me, and he gets cranky without his coffee. Sorry again about bumping into you." Sam quickly turned on his heel, walking as fast as he could in the other direction.

"Oh, god, Dawn, thank you so much, I was so worried that it wasn't natural–" Lena's voice faded into the the bustle of the street as he almost sprinted away.

When he had gotten close enough to the motel he let himself calm down a little bit, knowing that they were going to be leaving within the next couple hours. No chances for sudden true identities to be blurted out. He calmed his breathing and wondered why the fuck he was freaking out. Probably because in all of his research on the shtriga, he had pushed the lingering problem of Ms. Summers and her daughter away. He didn't want Dean worrying.

Dean had been completely right to rail on him after that stupid tulpa. He had frozen because he'd heard Buffy's name from a bunch of would-be ghost hunters. That was retarded. He had more self control than that. Apparently, monsters and demons and ghosts can't break his concentration, but the word 'Buffy' does it perfectly.

Sam had spent the extra effort to slow down his research and keep a better eye on what was happening around them since then. They'd wasted three ghosts on the way back up to Wisconsin, and he hadn't faltered on those jobs at all. It looked like Dean had slowly been moving past it until this stupid shtriga pulled up shit memories about their childhood. But in a way, he was also glad his father had sent this one to them. It seemed as if a weight he had never noticed had been lifted off Dean's shoulders, and Sam was grateful for that. Dean carried too much for all of their stupid family.

He took a long pull of the bitter coffee, sending up his usual thanks for caffeine. He couldn't wait to get on the road so that he could sleep in the car. Last night had been exhausting, and what with assuring Michael that everything was going to be okay, while cleaning up the room and throwing most of their stuff together, he was just running on adrenaline and pure will now. It was definitely possible for him to stay up longer, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Sam let his thoughts wander absently as he strolled back to their room. They would have some time before the next job, and he wanted to get back to the puzzle of the IWC. The only thing he had managed to come up with was Eostre, who was an Anglo-Saxon Goddess of the east and the rising dawn. She was also recognized as a goddess of rebirth, and there were stories where she had appeared using the forms of dead women. If he wanted to, he could force the puzzle pieces of Eostre to fit Ms. Summers and Dawn's situation, but it didn't really account for the rest of the people on the Council's website. And since he was really flying blind here, he was trying to come up with more possibilities.

There was also the fact that he wasn't quite sure he believed in gods and goddesses, but Dean's recent brush with the Vanir in Indiana kind of proved that they existed in some shape or form. In that same vein, Esotre wasn't known to be particularly vindictive or cruel, but legends were twisted throughout the years. He wasn't looking forward to confronting a goddess without having explored other avenues.

"Hey, Sasquatch, fork over the goods," Dean demanded, jolting Sam out of his thoughts.

He handed the coffee over, watching as Dean slurped it down without a care for the temperature. A few gulps later and Dean tossed the now empty cup into the waste-bin, walking out with their last bag of weapons over his shoulder. His brother's expression brightened a tad when they caught sight of Joanna getting out of her car.

"Have you seen Michael?" she asked.

"Yeah, he was around here just a second ago," Dean confirmed, tossing the bag into the back and slamming the trunk.

"Mom!"

"Hey there, honey." Joanna leaned over to pick Michael up and situate him on her hip in an impressive display of strength that only moms had. Sam hid a smile when he saw the grumpy frown appear on Michael's face, even though he leaned into his mother. "I've got some really good news, Mike. Ash is gonna be fine."

The kid's face split open in a blinding smile, and that just made his sleep deprivation more than worth it. The fact that Dean seemed to perk up a little bit more was an excellent bonus. "Really? Can I go see him? Now?"

"Yeah, if you go get your jacket."

Michael practically leapt from her arms, scrambling back towards the reception desk. He came bursting out the front door seconds later, an arm half through his jacket while he let the rest of it flop behind him as he ran towards the car.

"Thanks again for driving me over to the hospital, yesterday," she offered to Dean, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Not a problem," Dean replied easily. "You better get going, though. Michael's been bouncing around all morning."

Joanna nodded, turning back to the car and driving out of the parking lot.

"So, you ready to go?" Sam asked, tossing his own cup into the trash before shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, just a sec," Dean murmured, pulling his wallet out and counting out a stack of twenties. Sam watched through the window with a half-smile as Dean snuck behind the reception desk and left the cash behind. In normal circumstances, Dean would be happy to let the credit card bounce, but Michael had left an impression. It was kind of cute, in a way.

Sam slid into the car and leaned against the window, just waiting to finally crash. He didn't quite manage to keep his eyes open long enough to see Dean come back to the car, but he knew when his brother was next to him. He felt safer.

It was no trouble at all to slide into sleep. And his dreams reached out to seize and pull him under.