A/N: Well here's the last chapter my dears! Characters belong to Whedon and Kripke, and I promise to start on the next story ASAP!Chapter 9: Familiar patterns
Meanwhile that night at the Mayor's office, Wilkins was pulling on his overcoat, getting ready to leave for the night. He glanced around and down at his desk and adjusted the angle of the penholder that was askew, gave a satisfied nod, then picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. When he opened it, he found himself facing Faith who was standing there, arms crossed over her chest and scowling at him in accusation.
“You sent your boy to kill me.” She said and he blinked at her, unfazed.
“That's right, I did.”
“I thought he might be. What with you standing here and all.” He waved a hand at her to illustrate her obvious presence.
“I guess that means you have a job opening.” She said boldly as she took a step into his office and he retreated to give her enough room and closed the door behind her.
Buffy visited Dean and Sam in the hospital after school the next two days and every time she did Dean gripped and whined and argued about the fact that he didn’t really need to be in the hospital and that he was fine now and that they needed to be getting gone. But when Buffy and Sam agreed with the doctors and wouldn’t relent, he’d sulk and pout like a petulant child having a tantrum until either Sam or Buffy brought him out of it by teasing him.
On the third day Buffy was met with an empty hospital bed and room that held no sign of its former occupant. She glanced around until she found one of the nurses and approached her with a polite smile.
“My friend that was in that room,” she gestured to the vacated room behind her. “Did he go for tests or something?”
The nurse looked at the room and at a chart on the wall, then shook her head. “No, he and his brother left about an hour ago, he checked himself out against medical advice.” The nurse informed her and walked away to assist another patient. Buffy looked around and adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she headed for the exit. Perhaps he’d gone to her house to say goodbye, she thought and walked toward her home.
Sure enough, the Impala was parked against the curb and she saw Sam in the front seat behind the wheel while Dean was in front of the car with the hood up, fiddling with something. She crept up quietly until she was right behind him and spoke up brightly, “Hey Dean!”
Dean jumped and swore as his head hit the hood of the car in surprise. He rubbed the injured spot and glared at her then at Sam who was snickering, having seen Buffy’s approach before his brother did. “About time you got here princess.” He muttered as he checked the fuel lines and something she didn’t recognize.
Buffy leaned against the car and watched him work then lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I went to the hospital but you were already gone. Figured you wouldn’t take off without saying bye and took a stab that you’d be here.”
Buffy scowled at him, her eyes narrowing as he ignored her comment. “Why are you out of the hospital anyway, against medical advice no less?” She asked sternly and he straightened to look at her, wiping his hands on a rag next to him.
“Because I’m fine, in tip-top shape you could say,” Dean winked at her and she rolled her eyes as he tossed her own words back at her. “Besides, we have another case and I was bored out of my mind. There’s only so much poking and prodding a guy can handle, the damned vultures.”
Dean shut the hood and turned to perch on it, then looped his arms around her waist. Buffy looked over his shoulder to see that Sam was buried in another book and was therefore oblivious to the two of them.
“Oh.” She frowned and he brushed a kiss across her nose. “When will you be back?” She asked as she craned her head to look at him. Her eyes swept over his healing lip and the scar upon his temple, and she felt the bandages beneath his shirt but otherwise, he did look better.
He hesitated and rested his chin on top of her head as he thought over his answer, the pressed a kiss to her hair. “Not sure, still need to think about stuff.”
She pulled back a little to look at him and saw the mixed emotions in his eyes, then remembered the way things had ended the last time the guys were there. “Like what kind of stuff? Faith stuff or Buffy-type stuff?” She asked and his eyes became guarded at the mention of Faith’s name.
“Bit of both I suppose. And a few other things.” He answered and she stepped out of his embrace to cross her arms over her chest. He sighed and gripped the hood of the car, looking down at the ground as he got his bearings. He ached to pull her close again and forget all the reasons in his head that were telling him to pick up and go.
“Ok, well what sort of Faith stuff then?” She clarified and she watched his jaw clench again at the name. “And what ‘other things’?” She asked and groaned as a thought came to her head. “Is this about Angel again?”
Dean scoffed bitterly and looked up, his eyes meeting and holding hers in an intense moment. “You say it like it’s nothing, as if it’s no big deal that the blood sucker is around.”
“It’s not a big deal, except to you maybe. He helped get you to the hospital, he tried to talk to Faith, he’s not evil anymore.” She argued, and he let out a bark of laughter.
“Right, he’s in rehab. I’ll tell you this though, peaches. If that psychotic bitch even breathes
wrong near me I’m putting a bullet in her pretty little head.” His voice was pure cold steel as he faced off with her and she shivered at it.
“Dean she needs help, she just doesn’t know how to ask for it.” Buffy protested futilely but Dean shook his head.
“No? Seems pretty easy to me, all you gotta say is four letters, one syllable, bam simple as that.” He clapped his hands together and she flinched at the sudden noise and movement. “So let me get this right, it’s okay for the psycho bitch to torture me but it’s no big deal if Angel does?”
He growled the words and she scowled at him but he didn’t stop there, he kept going to drive his point home. “You mark my words princess, they’re killers, both of them. And the sooner you realize that, just maybe the number of dead bodies will stop rising.”
Dean stood and barked at Sam, who jumped in surprise and scooted over across the seat to the passenger’s side. Dean swung open the door and climbed in and slammed the door shut with a groan, and Buffy circled the car to look at him, her arms still crossed over her chest. He jammed the keys into the ignition but paused before speaking.
“We’ll be back in a week or two.” He said and she nodded and stepped up off the curb onto the lawn as he started the car with a roar and peeled away.
Sam wisely chose not to comment on the argument between them and went back to his book. Dean cranked the radio and tried to turn his thoughts to something other than Buffy, Faith or Dead Boy without success. He cursed to himself steadily as he drove through town, he always ended up falling back into familiar patterns with her- fighting and then talking- and it was getting tiring. He just wanted to have a visit with her that didn’t involve vampires, psychotic demons or Slayers, fights, or hell even freaking ghosts. But it seemed that wasn’t to be, that the two were too set in their ways to overcome their petty disagreements and actually talk things out without one of them storming off half-cocked.
Dean swung the car in a U-Turn and Sam yelped as his head hit the passenger’s side window but Dean ignored him and drove back to Buffy’s house. Damn it all to hell, he just wanted one minute to tell her he loved her without interference.
He pulled up at the curb again and got out, the door groaning again as it slammed shut behind him and he crossed the lawn in three strides. He jumped up the stairs and took a moment to collect himself before knocking on the door with a closed fist. He put his hands behind his head and looked around and back at his brother who was watching from the Impala.
When the door was pulled open by Buffy he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her close, capturing her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. She kissed him back after the initial surprise wore off and wove her arms around his neck. When he pulled back for air he brushed a hand through her hair and kissed her again firmly.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that Angel makes me a little crazy.” He said in a hoarse whisper and he kissed her again, lingering long enough to gently nip her bottom lip and she moaned in response. “Forgive me?” He asked and she let out a breathless nod. He followed her inside and she leapt up to wrap her legs around his waist. He broke away to look around for Joyce but she assured him between kisses that her mother was at the gallery so he carried her up the stairs to her room, kicking the door shut behind him.