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Summary: Twenty-four prompts, twenty-four fics, twenty-four days till Christmas. Brought to you by Wishlist_fic on LiveJournal.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > General > Ficlet Collections - Other(Moderator)AvaFR152023,98815714,9601 Dec 1027 May 13No

Keep On Keepin' On

Title :: Keep On Keepin’ On
Rating :: FR13
Disclaimer :: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.

Prompt :: sweet_lyri/Buffy, Dean/BtVS, SPN/“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Note :: Companion piece to Don’t Stop Believin’

Keep On Keepin’ On

Bruised knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel, the movement bringing with it a subtle ache that reminded Dean to focus past them to the road stretched out beneath him. His counterpart was asleep beside him, blonde hair swept forward and blocking her battered face from his view. A flannel jacket, which had belonged to their last attacker, was balled up and pressed between her head and the window of the car they’d just recently acquired—see jacked.

The demon’s remains were wrapped up in the trunk and Dean was making his way through Death Valley and towards their usual salt and burn spot. They’d need a new one after this last hunt and Dean needed to convince Buffy to head east with him because they just weren’t finding answers in her home state. A hand lifted from the wheel and rubbed over his several days worth of stubble as he pushed back the fatigue slowing his reflexes and possibly making him sloppy.

That hand rose to dig his palm into his left eye as he let loose a long yawn that popped his jaw and had Buffy rolling her shoulders and sniffing. Her head lifted and she made a soft sound that had him smirking as she dragged herself upright and glanced around, taking in the dark interior of the car in one careful sweep before she relaxed and Dean’s smile widened. His girl knew to check for danger first and ask questions after which made her a hell of a lot smarter then anyone else he’d ever known.

“How far,” a yawn caught her halfway through the question and she covered her stretching mouth before she managed to finish, “How far are we?”

“’nother fifteen. At the most.” He turned his head, noticed her slightly glazed eyes and cleared the amusement from his throat as he finished, “Why don’t you try’n fit another ten in?”

Her hands came up, rubbing her face a little too vigorously before her head lifted and stated, “Nah, I’m good.”

Arguing with a grumpy Slayer, even one that wasn’t at full strength, was just not on Dean’s list of smart things for a hunter to do so he wisely kept his opinion on her sleep deprivation to himself. Especially since he had no room to bitch when he didn’t plan to sleep again until Buffy was at full strength or he was dead—which every came first. Hopefully full Slayer ass kick’age came first, but until that happened he had caffeine and the occasional happy pill that kept him going into the long hours of the night.

“Dean,” he inclined his head, turning to glance at her with a brow raised in question when she just stared at him. She sighed and rolled her shoulders back, hands running down her thighs in a nervous gesture that narrowed his eyes before she offered, “What if I can’t get my powers back?”

“Don’t. Don’t even think that—”

She cut through protests with a quiet, “But what if I can’t?”

He turned back to the road and headlights cutting a clear path through the dark. He studied the asphalt, looking for the right answer before he settled on the most obvious one, “Then I’ll teach you to shoot.”

“Dean,” she scoffed his name and explained, “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He glanced at Buffy, found her staring at him expectantly and added, “I’m sure superpowers are great and everything, but you’ve been hunting for months now without them. I get wanting them back, but not having them isn’t going to be the end of you,” his voice dipped, almost a whisper when he added, “or us.”

“I haven’t completely sucked with the slay’age,” Buffy admitted after a moment of silence.

“No,” he paused, added, “Not entirely.”


“What?” he laughed, “I’m agreeing with you.”

A muttered, “Now he agrees with me,” had his smile spreading, but it dimmed when she added, “We need to move on from California.” The statement surprised him and Dean could only raise his brows in question as he kept his eyes on the road and Buffy continued, “I want to find out what happened to me. But…” she hesitated.

“But what?” Dean prompted.

“I’m being selfish,” his hands tightened, but before he could argue against her statement she was rushing on with, “We should be looking for the yellow-eyed demon too. It’s not fair that I’m monopolizing our—”

“Demon kills?” He snorted and shook his head, “Come on, Buffy. We’re killing some evil sonsofbitches. Does the why really matter?”

“Dean, the things we do,” she frowned, clarified, “The things I’m willing to do for you…” she trailed off and shook her head. Dean glanced over, found her staring at him with a sadness that knotted in his gut and she finished, voice paper-thin, “It scares me sometimes.”

He kept his gaze on the road as he offered, “I know the feeling.” His right hand fell from the steering wheel and he dropped it to the space between them on the bench seat. Buffy’s fingers slipped through his, her palm settling against his own as he tried to think of a way to calm her fears and his own. “I don’t like it,” he finally settled on and continued, “I don’t like killing the host anymore then you do, but the exorcisms haven’t been working and I don’t know of another way to expel’em.”

“I know,” her fingers tightened around his hand, “I do. It just feels wrong sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Dean conceded and the quiet stretched between them.

Buffy’s fingers flexed and she inhaled deeply after a few moments of silence to add, “But it’s the right thing. We’re saving people.”

“We are.”

Her hand tugged slightly and Dean glanced over, caught her wide smile before she stated, “Then we’ll keep on keepin’ on.”

That was the last time he let her listen to Mayfield was Dean’s dominate thought as he brought her hand up and absently brushed his lips against the back of it before he muttered, “You’re so lame.”

“Uh huh,” he nipped a knuckle and she gasped, “Dean!”

He flashed a quick grin before letting their hands drop back to the seat and another, longer moment of quiet settled between them as they finished the drive to their spot and Dean shut off the engine. Buffy stayed still beside him and he stayed with her, their hands grasped and both still lost in thought as Dean came to the realization that Buffy was right and those dickwads at Heritage Oaks Hospital could go screw themselves.

They couldn’t break them. Those quacks couldn’t stop them from helping people, saving people.

No one could.

The end.
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