I do not own either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural.Type:
Spoilers through My Bloody Valentine. Some dialogue from various episodes is also used.Summary:
The war is over, and with the help of the slayers, the world is safe once more. Now, three months later the man Buffy only knew as the archangel Michael, is waking up.Author’s Notes:
First off I'd like to thank both moragmacpherson and aj_hofacre for all their help. Any mistakes left are all mine. I'd also like to thank lightthesparks for her wonderful artwork. And finally, I'd like to thank the mods of sncross_bigbang for hosting this challenge.
The ride over had been long, the Impala carrying a shroud of silence the whole way. Neither Sam nor Dean felt like speaking, and music only felt like an unneeded distraction.
They had gotten the news last week. Buffy had been killed leading a rescue mission against a group of demons bent on sacrificing a couple of teenagers. The only bit of comforting knowledge, if one could even call it comforting, was that as she had gone down, she had taken the demons with her.
Sam and Dean had been on the other side of the country at the time, and as a result, they had missed her funeral, though Dean wasn’t sure their absence had been a bad thing.
Now he stood in the open field behind the Council building, sunlight warming his back. Shadows danced across the ground as wind twirled through branches. His weight was resting on the oak cane in his hand.
It was a simple slab of polished granite, empty words carved in an emotionless memorial. The eternal flame burning in the top danced and waved in the slight breeze. There was no body below – Dawn had told them, through her sobs and sniffles, that her sister’s body had been cremated in order to ensure that she could not return.
The dagger in his hand clinked softly against the stone as he let it drop, and Dean straightened up with a quiet groan.
“Kinda poetic, don’t ya think?”
Dean turned his head. Gabriel was leaning against the tree off to his left.
“Surprised to see you here,” Dean replied, shifting his weight as his hand gripping the top of the cane tighter. “From what I heard, you weren’t exactly her biggest fan.”
Gabriel shot Dean a half-smile.
“How are the legs?” Gabriel asked, titling his head to the side.
“Gabriel,” Dean sighed, feeling tired.
“Fine,” Gabriel huffed with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll leave you to your ritual martyrdom.”
When he was alone, Dean sighed again and turned back towards the headstone. The elegant letters simply read ‘Buffy Anne Summers -- Hero.’ Dean closed his eyes briefly.
“Take care of her, you sanctimonious bastard,” Dean said softly. His eyes were on the blue sky, knowing a certain archangel could hear him. “She deserved better than she got and she sure as hell deserved better than you.”
Turning, Dean left, heading back to where Sam and Castiel waited.
They still had work to do.