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Heal the Scars

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Summary: He hadn't gotten a clear picture of her as she had been checking over Dawn, but he was getting a perfect view now. This woman looked like— "Buffy Summers," she replied charmingly, taking his hand in a firm shake. —his mother.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Buffy-Centered > Pairing: John Winchester(Recent Donor)AnaraineFR1825109,23788625130,9999 Nov 099 Nov 11No

Chapter One

Heal the Scars: a John/Buffy story
Heal the Scars
Rating: FR18
Pairing: John/Buffy
Spoilers: Seasons 1-7 of Buffy, Season 1 & 2 of Supernatural. Supernatural diverges from it's canon timeline in "Shadow" (1.16), but some season 2 elements will show up later.
Warnings: I'm playing fast and loose with Buffy, and it's timeline. Some things happened, some things didn't. Let it be known that the Scoobies are great friends, and even though they've had issues, they will always come for each other. Including Faith. They're family. Season 5 with it's Glorificus-ness didn't happen - Dawn hadn't been born yet. Also, timeline for Supernatural is a bit skewed. I'll put up a timeline later, after the first couple of chapters. If you have to, ignore the years in the headings until later.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series, they belong to Fox, WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, WB, CW, etc.
Acknowledgment(s): To legacydallas who has actually been to Whitewater, and poked some sizable holes into my setting before helping me patch them back up. Thank you, you're awesome.

Heal the Scars: Chapter 1: Welcome to Kansas, Mary (manip by ahewlett)


July 1984. Just outside of Lawrence, Kansas.

Kansas' summer weather was always uncomfortably hot, humidity making already high temperatures even worse, but for some reason, it seemed a bit harsher this year. A part of him would always wonder why his ma decided to settle down in Lawrence when she hated hot weather, but he'd given up trying to get an answer long before she'd passed away. He could still remember her smile and shrug whenever he'd gotten the gumption to ask, forcing a glass of ice cold lemonade into his hands and shooing him out the screen door into the sunshine.

Sweat tickled at the back of his neck and he swiped it away, dragging his palm across the thigh of his jeans and leaving behind a dark smear. The AC in his baby was blasting and he knew it was a sight better than the temperature, but damn it was hot. Almost felt like it was pushing a hundred and twenty degrees.

His eyes trailed ahead on the road, mouth quirking into a half-smirk at the short blonde walking along the road with an easy gait. She was wearing a pair of daisy duke shorts and a dusty wifebeater, smooth tan skin bared without a care. A black duffle was swung over her shoulder, a bit larger than he would have expected for a woman her size, but she didn't seem to have a problem with it.

Slowing the Impala down to an even roll in hopes of avoiding a cloud of dust, he cranked the window down and rested his arm against the frame.

"Need a ride?" he asked, giving a lopsided grin.

She turned, giving him a look at her face, and he was momentarily struck dumb. He'd assumed she was pretty, but the woman in front of him looked like she belonged in one of those pinups they'd had during the war to think of home. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he admired her smooth gentle curves and perky breasts, but he was a bit sheepish when she had to cough to get his attention.

He looked up to see laughing green eyes, and an open smile upon red painted lips. He'd never believed in love at first sight, but he was starting to think that it might not be the wives' tale he'd always thought it to be.

"I said, are you offering?" she asked, her voice warm and bright.

"My ma would come back from the dead to tan my hide if I didn't."

"Then yeah, I'd like a ride," she returned, her smile widening.

Leaning over to the passenger side of his baby, he popped the door and watched as she walked in front of the car with an easy swing of her hips to join him.

"Goddamn, she's pretty."

A bubbling burst of laughter interrupted his thoughts and his ears reddened as he realized he must've announced his thoughts to the world. But despite the embarrassment, her clear delight made his heart thud in his chest in a way it never had before. It was an exhilarating feeling, something vibrant and clean, and if he had his way, he was going to continue having that feeling for the rest of his life.

"Thank you," she finally managed to calm her giggles, but her smile was still sunny. "Do I get to know the name of my rescuer?"

"John Winchester," he replied, taking his hand off the wheel to offer it to her.

"Mary Campbell." She took his hand with firm shake, cementing his tentative thoughts further.

This woman was going to be his wife.


May 2012. Whitewater, Wisconsin.

Dawn heaved a sigh as she carelessly dropped into her couch, the plastic cover crinkling loudly under her weight. She was sweaty and a bit tired, but pleased with all of the work she had gotten done today. Moving to Whitewater had been a lot of work, but she loved the fresh feel of freedom singing through her senses.

Her apartment was a bit bigger than she'd been expecting (more than likely because she was so used to sharing at the Council Houses) but once she started unpacking the extra space had been filled quite quickly. It was actually surprising how much stuff she had managed to bring with her, since she had left quite a few things at the various Council Houses, knowing that she'd be back for visits and holidays.

Before she had even moved in, Willow had helped paint wards into the house: basic small things, like making sure that previously invited vampires couldn't come back in, hostility sensing wards and a supernatural trip wire. They were all very easy things that could be painted over again when they took, so she wasn't defacing the room. From there, she had moved onto the bulk of her possessions.

Books covered her walls, the more esoteric demon books camped out in her room, while the general language and lighter occult books filled the shelves of her sitting room. An electric fireplace was set up in the corner, cleverly disguising a chest of weapons while creating a cozy look, and vanilla candles were placed around strategically to scent the rooms without overpowering her senses.

Photos had been dutifully framed and hanged with pictures of her family, the Scoobies, mostly, but also a few of Slayers she had grown close to. Her larger pieces of furniture were still covered in plastic, and her clothes were still boxed up in her room, but for the most part, she was set.

She was in an area that only had one active Slayer, a girl named Gina who had wanted to stay with her family after she had gone through the basic training provided by the Cleveland Council. There wasn't much supernatural activity within the confines of Whitewater or it's surrounding counties, so Gina's weekly patrols usually flushed out the new vampires that had made their way in, and allowed her to check with the local friendly demons for news.

Dawn had only met the girl a couple of times while she was in Cleveland, and again while letting her know that she was moving to Gina's town as a heads-up. Gina was a nice girl - just barely eighteen - but while she understood she couldn't forget about being a Slayer, she did her best stay as 'normal' as she could. She wouldn't be seeking Dawn out unless there was a real problem.

That left Dawn with the very real, very freeing sense of being an adult. She had moved out of the house and away from her comfort zones. She had a part time job down at the karate dojo, and was working on her doctorate in languages. She had also been contracted by the IWC to do translations from home at a reasonable fee in her spare time, if she ever found herself in need of a bit extra cash. She was her mother's daughter, after all, and a bad day was easily soothed by expensive shoes, but she wanted to work for the money she used to splurge. Unless they had been destroyed during a hunt; then it was totally acceptable to use the funds the Council provided for ruined clothes without any misplaced feelings of mooching.

Smiling to herself as she took another good look at her new home, she bounced from her seat with a burst of energy. One rejuvenating shower later and she was dressed and ready to take a walk of a portion of the town at night, wanting to know where the local supernatural hotspots were. She definitely wasn't planning to make more patrols than Gina did, but Dawn was a firm believer in knowing where trouble was easily brewed. She also hoped to find a demon bar around, where she could get easy information on the locals, since she hadn't bothered to talk shop with Gina. If she couldn't find anything like it, she'd go ahead and ask the girl for the inside scoop, but since Whitewater was such a quiet little town, Dawn figured that there wasn't any harm in taking things slow.

Seven hours and two coffees later, she'd met a quiet Brachen demon couple, and not much else. Whitewater was actually smaller than she'd been led to believe. She hadn't been looking in depth, of course, but had managed to walk the entire town without hitting a single supernatural hotspot. That explained why Gina did patrolling out into the Jefferson and Walworth counties a bit, too. There was a faint hum of something at the Fort HealthCare Internal Medicine & Pediatrics, but it was likely just a halfbreed demon on a skeleton night shift. She would look into it later, when she did a more extensive look into what was around. It was approaching three in the morning, so Dawn made her way back home with a skip in her step, peeling off her clothes before falling into an easy sleep.


June 2012. Chicago, Illinois.

Dean stumbled and jarred his shoulder against the Impala, just managing to keep his father from crashing into the metal frame as well.

"Goddamn Daevas," he swore under his breath. The shadow demons had taken a good chunk of flesh, and it looked like his dad was even worse off. His skin was too pale, the blood too fresh as it oozed down his face and neck.

"All right, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back," Sam ordered, opening the trunk to toss their gear into the back.

"Wait, wait. Sam, wait. Dad, you can't come with us," Dean interrupted fiercely, jerking his head around to glare at Sam.

"Wha–? What are you talking about?" Sam countered quickly, looking both lost and pissed off.

"You boys– you're beat to hell," John interjected quietly.

"We'll be all right," Dean cut him off, wanting to make his point. "We almost got you killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop; they're gonna try again. They're gonna use me and Sam to get to you. I mean, the bitch was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's–he's stronger without us around."

"Like hell," Sam growled, taking a step forward to grasp tightly at his brother's arm. Dean gave a pained moan at the rough handling. He hadn't realized he'd been stabbed through the arm, but since everything was hurting like a bitch, that wasn't much of a surprise. "You're about ready to pass out, and Dad's a couple of steps ahead of you. Get in the goddamn car."

John's lips quirked in a bitter smile.

"But Sam–"

"If you're so damn sure that leaving Dad will protect him, fine, we'll leave. After you and him get medical treatment, not before. Now, Get. In. The. Car." Sam dropped his hand to grab John's keys from his belt and then spun towards the Sierra, quickly unlocking and grabbing anything of worth. Dean watched a bit dumbfounded as his baby brother stripped all of their dad's things quickly and efficiently from the truck before hauling it in his gigantor arms and dumping it into the back, slamming down the trunk of the Impala.

"Didn't I say to get in the car?" Sam demanded, just a step away from the driver's seat.

With a pained chuckle, John pushed against his son and clambered into the back seat. Stretching across the leather, he pulled up the medical kit in the back to stem the bleeding as much as he could. Dean watched with a stunned countenance, right up until Sam manhandled him into the passenger seat and slapped a pad of gauze onto his bleeding forehead while giving Dean a roll of micropore tape.

"Only temporary," he grunted, before sliding into the drivers seat and peeling out of the alley. Dean frowned when Sam made a couple quick turns and got onto the I-94 N without any sort of discussion, but he was starting to feel a bit tired, adrenaline running out and the heavy throb of pain coursing through his body. The crackle of plastic hit his ears and he turned slightly to see Sam palming a new bottle of painkillers and almost sighed in relief as his brother passed him five of the pills and a bottle of water. The rattle of the bottle alerted him to the fact that Sammy had passed it back to their father, too.

"You got a plan?" Dean finally ventured, fully intending on chewing his baby brother out later about hijacking their dad, but willing to set it aside for the moment. A quick glance into the back seat displayed that John had passed out, so maybe Sam was right about not letting him drive anywhere, but he wasn't going to admit that come hell or high water.

"Get across the state line, up into Wisconsin. Kenosha and Whitewater have Universities, so they're bound to have decent hospitals. Whitewater is a smaller town, though."

Dean blinked slowly and gave Sam a clear 'what-the-fuck' look. "And you know this how?"

Sam's lips firmed into an almost-scowl. "When I was going through colleges I took a pretty good look at the University of Wisconsin system."

And that was the end of that conversation, since Dean had no desire to touch that subject with a ten foot pole. Yes, Sam was back with him, but as he had so firmly demonstrated tonight, Sam wasn't going to stay forever. Did Sam care for his family? Yes, even if it was in a fucked up way. Hell, they were all fucked up, so that didn't really count. Did Sam want the demon dead? You bet your sorry ass he did. Sam wanted cold hard revenge against Jessica's killer. Did Sam want to stick around? No, he really didn't. Take care of the demon, and Sam was gone. He didn't want to be doing the family business. He wanted a so-called life. Safe and behind the blinders that most people wore. Firmly choking those thoughts to death and chucking them out the window, Dean leaned back and sprawled a bit more in his seat.

"Whitewater is probably the better choice," he said gruffly, before padding up a shirt from the foot-well and using it as a pillow against the window.

Sam grunted –in acknowledgment or annoyance, he couldn't tell– and continued driving.
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