Pillars of Salt
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.
Spoilers: BtVS S5-6/SPN S5
Rating: R/FR18 (dark themes, violence, sexual content, language)
Distribution: Please ask me first.
Author’s Notes: A dark BtVS/SPN crossover fanfiction – my first major piece of fanfiction for Buffy/Dean. I made a wallpaper for this story before I ever wrote it (linked below). Major rewrite of Supernatural episode 05.04 "The End" and I stole some parts of the script and made them my own so thanks to Ben Edlund for the awesome help! Haha. That being said, I changed a lot of the language and changed the scenes from the episode to fit my story so I hope it doesn’t feel like a boring rehash in some parts. I took some elements of the book The Lost Slayer by Christopher Golden as well.
Author’s Notes 2: Thanks for Dana for the support and major encouragement! Please check out this piece of hers
as it helped guide where this story would go when it was just a twinkle in my eye...
Timeline: Set in early S5 of Supernatural with a touch of S5/S6 of BtVS.
Feedback: Always appreciated! Especially as this is my first heavy-duty B/D fic.
Summary: What if Buffy had shown up in Dean’s life around 05.03 with a few issues herself? How will this play out when Zachariah sends Dean into 2014 to see the consequences of his choices…
Nominated for Best Angst, Best Drama and Best Crossover TV Pairing!Chapter One
“The hardest thing in this world… is to live in it.
“Live… for me.”
Buffy Summers jumped.
Thoughts of Dawn, Giles, Willow, Xander... everyone below her fell away as the swirling light swallowed her, pierced her through. She felt hot, sharp pain slice across her breast and then she felt nothing. She saw nothing but white light and felt...
A smile graced her face, her body undulating as her life force drained and she tumbled.
And then darkness…
Buffy’s eyes snapped open, her surroundings a blur as her feet moved faster, quicker through the dense forest. She could barely see anything around but shadows, looming and terrifying in the dark of the night, the moonlight barely peeping through. The boots on her feet were heavy and caked in mud, making it harder for her to keep the lead on whatever was chasing her.What the hell?
She had foolishly gone hunting without taking the time to be prepared - too sure that she could take care of this thing with just a few bullets - bullets?
- and she had been wrong. This one was older, stronger and apparently much quicker. She could hear it gaining on her, the trees she slid by effortlessly falling under his heavy bulk as he crashed through them.
For a split second, Buffy realized she wasn’t feeling anything - no fear, no anxiety, no rush, no adrenaline. She felt empty, her chest a cavern without a heart until the moment slapped her in the face. Buffy felt her feet slide as a wave of confusion crashed over her and she let out a sharp yell before she tumbled, falling down. Her descent didn’t stop there as she fell down a large slope, turning over and over, cracking her head against a tree limb and her legs against rocks and sharp branches. Her body screamed in protest but she didn’t dare try to stop in case she broke a leg or an arm at this speed.
Despite the blood rushing through her ears, Buffy could still hear it following her down.
And just like that, true panic set in. What the hell was going on, where was she, what was chasing her? Why didn’t she just turn around and kill it? What was strapped to her leg and across her chest?
Where was Dawn? Giles?
Without even thinking, Buffy’s hands snatched out, trying to grab hold of something to stop her fall. The hill seemed endless and unforgiving as she rolled. She needed to stop, think, get somewhere safe. She needed to get back to her motel room and her Jeep so she could come back more prepared.
Prepared for what?
The warring thoughts in Buffy’s mind screamed at her that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Buffy finally slowed and she grabbed the nearest tree, wrapping her arms around it as her body continued to slide down but she held tight. Silence followed as Buffy breathed in harshly, her tangled and dirty hair tickling her nose. Immediately she listened to her surroundings, heard the small rocks and dirt clumps loosened from her fall, waited to hear that she was definitely not in the clear yet but there was nothing.
Buffy didn’t wait to listen to the two voices in her head - one screamed for her to keep moving, keep going - safety above all else, don’t stop until you know you can stop whatever is chasing you - while the other ached to stand, take in where she was, get a grip.
What in the hell was happening? Literally five seconds ago she had jumped into a big ball of white energy and now she was here, in some other world... some other body? Being chased by some creature that died with guns? But at the same time, there was recognition. She was in the state of Washington, here on a case. She had been tracking it since it left Chicago eight months ago and she had finally gotten a bulls-eye on it. That is before reality came crashing through, fumbling everything up.
She had underestimated it.
Buffy started breathing quickly as she fought to stand, the slippery slope beneath her giving her no leverage. She felt her chest constricting and her mind racing - she could hear the wild pump of her heartbeat as she realized what was happening.
This wasn’t her world. This wasn’t her body.
She wasn’t her.
“Oh, god,” Buffy whispered, gripping the rough tree bark of the tree. Hot tears flooded her eyes before she stamped them down. Not now… time for that later. She needed to get up and she needed to run.
But she was literally stuck on a slope and the only way off of it was down. Inhaling deeply, Buffy licked her lips, ignoring the cracked dirt she tasted and looked around. She didn’t hear anything beside the deep sound of a forest resting. She heard the rustle of a small animal, the caress of an owl’s wings. No big whatever-was-chasing-her crashing through the forest to come eat her up.Werewolf?
The same panic from just a moment ago gripped her heart but Buffy pushed it down as she used the tree to pull her body up. Why was it so hard, it was literally like she had no upper body strength... at least nothing compared to...
Being the Slayer.
She wasn’t the Slayer.
She was a normal girl with normal girl strength, stuck on the side of a mountain being hunted by something that really wanted to taste her blood.
“Okay, okay,” Buffy breathed to herself, feeling her jaw start to tremble as she managed to find her bearing and sit on the other side of the tree, leaning back against it. Taking a quick assessment, Buffy realized her body hurt
. Like, it hurt like the worst pain she had ever felt. Part of being the Slayer was having quick healing but now... but now she also knew that this kind of pain wasn’t a new thing. She had felt this before, she had the scars to prove her battles and her will to survive.
Buffy touched her own hands, feeling the hard callouses and the small scars littering them. They looked pale and foreign in the darkness. These weren’t her hands but they were at the same time. Buffy began to worry she was losing her mind - what was this? This couldn’t be Heaven, Heaven shouldn’t be this downright frightening and powerless. Was this Hell?
Had she been sent to Hell?
Buffy lifted her fingers to face, touching it gently. Her fingers were dry and covered in the dirt around her but her face... her face was littered with scars. Buffy gasped as she touched the largest one, starting in the middle of her right cheek and slicing right through her lips to the center of her chin. It was raised and it was big.
What the hell?
“Okay, Buffy, calm down, simmer down,” she whispered to herself. It didn’t escape her attention that her own voice sounded... raspy and dark. Dank. Not her voice. But it was her voice. She hardly spoke to anyone which was why her voice sounded like she lived on two packs of cigarettes a day...
Squeezing her eyes shut, Buffy took a second to take another assessment. Running through the last day, she remembered two very distinct memories. One, she had been fighting Glory. Dawn had been bleeding at the top of the tower and she had realized - the most beautiful realization in her life - that death was her gift. It was supposed to be her freaking gift, not being dumped into Hell with nothing but the clothes on her stupid back into god only knows where. The clothes she hadn’t even been wearing.
But Buffy also remembered putting these very clothes on - albeit less dirt and less rips and tears. Just the same as she remembered changing into her white sweater and gray pants...
The other set of memories were very different. Buffy had a lifted Jeep, the majority of it a weapon cache. There wasn’t anywhere in there that didn’t have some weapon of some kind but these weren’t... normal weapons. They were harder, man-made weapons. Knives, guns, bullets. There was holy water and huge stakes that had been dipped in blood along with some machetes and even a sword. A few bags - hex bags - and a great deal of books. Containing spells, journals, curses...
Since when was Buffy interested in that kind of reading? In any kind of reading?
Both sets felt familiar, normal. But they weren’t at the same time. The more Buffy tried to make sense of it, the more she felt the pool of confusion in her chest growing and the more any single memory became a muddled mess in her head.
She didn’t know what to do, where she was...
A large, echoing crack sounded the night and Buffy’s mind jumped into action. She quickly took a look around, her eyes expertly scanning the surrounding brush but nothing was moving. She stopped breathing for a moment, her body stilled but there was nothing.
What a false, lovely illusion.
It only took the softest step into the mulchy ground behind her for Buffy to whirl around, acting on pure instinct as she brought her arms up to protect herself. But he was quicker, lashing out at her and wrapping his clawed fingers around her throat. Buffy gasped for breath and he picked her up, the hold on her throat tightening as she started kicking her legs in protest. Both of her hands were wrapped around the meaty wrist and she started seeing the black spots she was all too familiar with. How many times had someone tried to choke her?
But was this one the end? One part of her rallied while the other wilted for a moment but neither acted - her body moved on its own accord, knowing that it was in danger and acting on purely trained instinct. Buffy took as a deep a breath as she could before balling her fists and slamming them down into his forehead. It was hard enough - it would have been 100 times harder had she been the Slayer but still quite impressive - and his grip loosened enough for Buffy to swing her arm up and back down, breaking it.
Buffy didn’t wait to see who it was that was attacking her or why he had the claws only Death could wish for. Instead, she turned and she ran. Back down the slope, sailing at impossible speeds as she tried to tell her legs to land in certain spots so she didn’t go down face-first again. The earth around her became a literal blur as she focused on the bottom - it was coming up quick and she immediately prepared herself to leap and duck into a roll, to land on her feet and keep running.
She could hear the monster closing in behind her as she executed her roll and landed right on her feet, just as planned and kept running. A smaller hill came up and she leapt up it, her hands clawing at the dirt for leverage, knowing a highway was right around there. Her Jeep was parked somewhere on it, she had lost track but at least here she knew there were lights, there were people and that could give her the advantage she needed to get away for the moment.
But she was too slow as she creature behind her caught up. Just as she reached the top, she felt his claws dig right through her jacket, ripping her clothes to shreds as his dug his nails into her back. Hot firey pain erupted throughout Buffy’s body and she cried out, both in pain and intense anger, as his other hand came down on her back. Buffy fell, slipping down the hill as she rolled on her back, ignoring the hot flash of disagreement from her flayed skin as the dirt from the ground dug into her open wounds.
It was enough time for her to bring her legs up and kick the monster in his chest. For a split second, she saw his face - she saw the creased brow, the huge fangs, the feral look on his face before she used all her strength to push him away. It was barely enough for her to get to the top of the hill where her hands felt blessed concrete and she stumbled into the middle of the road.
She was greeted with the screech of tires as someone slammed on their brakes. She saw the whirlwind of headlights as the car spun but not quick enough as the right side of the car hit her, throwing her back a few feet to collapse into a tumble, her already abused body scraping against the road painfully. She let out a soft whimper, all thoughts leaving her mind. The adrenaline of having had to get away from her pursuer suddenly abandoned her and Buffy felt all the strength leave her body.
She heard someone from the car getting out, their car door aching with the sound as it creaked and the sound of heavy boots slapping the road as they approached her.
She heard him say, “Son of a bitch,” as he came upon her.
Buffy momentarily wondered where the creature was - the werewolf - before her mind started getting cloudy.
The man knelt beside her, rolling her over onto her back and Buffy let out a gentle cry, the ribbons of skin on her back once again protesting. He reached out to brush the hair from her face and Buffy opened her eyes for a moment, only a moment, to meet the sea-green eyes of her would-be rescuer. She felt the gentle caress of his rough hands down her cheek, the curiosity and horror on his face and she felt herself smile slightly - the touch was familiar, comforting.
And then she blacked out.