Neither one Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor Supernatural are my creations, the credit goes to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke, respectively.A/N:
This is result of a random what if
; what if somehow Dick was Buffy's father? And every girl's got daddy issues of some brand, right? So what if she is destined to drive back the Leviathans?"Are you fucking kidding me? You're saying she's Dick and Eve's kid who went to her mother in the divorce and now she has some serious daddy issues?"
– Dean W.
If you don't automatically recognize where this takes place, it's in the seventh season's episode "There Will Be Blood" (7x22). This scene is set between the Winchester's talk with the Alpha Vampire and Edgar's arrival. Some things might be slightly different, either because of the fact I wrote it from memory or that they were better for the purposes of this fic.-: Allies in Strange Places :-
She wandered into the dining room once his men had escorted the hunters out. Her idle hands touched various things as she passed by. Nimble fingers brushed the shade of an antique lamp on the side table and some of the backs of the matching chairs around the dark, wooden table, and lastly the side of one of the white, white plate on the table before she stopped.
She stood now a few foot from where he was sitting in the head of the dining table and staring at the wall on the opposite side of the room. He didn't acknowledge her presence in any way and his forefinger kept trailing slow circles around the rim of the wine glass in front of him.
She leaned her backside against the table, looking at the painting on the side wall. It was of a blond-haired girl, maybe around seven or eight years old. On the canvas she was captured in midst of dancing on a field of flowers. The hem of her blue summer dress was high after a whirling movement. Her free floating curls reflected it as well. Judging by the style and the looks of the painting she guessed it was done sometime in the 17th century. It was clearly Baroque, or at least painted by someone drawing their inspiration from that time period.
Absently she thought he must have known her, the girl in it, but she didn't think it was important enough to ask him to confirm what she suspected. He had been around for a long, long time, and even if he hadn't known the girl in the painting he was sure to have known someone just like her somewhere along the years, probably more than just one. He didn't like to admit, but essentially he was a creature of habit, and he had his weaknesses.
Bored with the trail of her thoughts and annoyed by the fact that he kept ignoring her she gave a small huff. When it didn't provoke him into saying something, she stepped her game up a notch. Supporting herself with her hands the table, she pushed her feet off the ground, landing sitting on the table she had been leaning against. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye – still no reaction. So that's how he was going to be.
She started to swing her legs back and forth, and in case that wasn't enough, she made sure that with every second swing her leg thumped against the leg of the table that was behind her left leg.
Score. His finger paused for just a millisecond, but she spotted it.
, swing, thump
… It went on for several minutes. While most wouldn't have noticed, she could tell his patience was wearing thin and the movements of his hand became more and more forced.
She was just thinking of ways to take it to the next level when his finger ceased moving. "Do you must?" he asked, placing his hands on the table in front of him. His tone was perfectly even and polite as always.
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as if in thought. "Yup," she nodded resolutely, her legs never stopping.
"You are being insolent on purpose," his eyes were now fixed on her and his tone was reprimanding.
She looked him with her expression and body language challenging, clearly unfazed where many would have been quivering with fear.
There was a moment of silence. They had reached an impasse, he did not want to make her think she could have things her way if she annoyed her enough while she didn't want to give him the impression he could get rid of her by just ignoring that she was there.
In the end he was the first one to yield; she would have things the way she wanted, by any means necessary, and some of those could get ugly – they'd witnessed that from time to time. She was truly her mother's daughter.
He rolled his eyes in a rare display of emotion, "Fine, spit it out."
Inwardly she smirked at the victory but nothing of it came on the surface, "I think they're dead on."
He cocked an eyebrow mockingly but before he had a chance to say anything, she added, "Pun not intended."
"So you think the deal is not going to hold?" he searched her eyes for the truth of what she really thought, it was often almost impossible to tell with her.
"It isn't. Dick and his cronies are full of shit. They never intended to keep their end, and you're naïve if you actually thought they would," she stated bluntly. That's the way she saw it, and she told it to him, straightforward. The Leviathans were doing very good job at eliminating everyone they couldn't eat or who could at some point pose a threat to them. Well, and then there were the Winchesters who even Dick couldn't get out of the game. Those two were probably their best chance at taking the Leviathans out, and the sooner she could make him saw it, the better.
"Then what would you do? Get into an open war with them? You are the naïve one if you think any of us would be alive if that happens."
"You think slowly dying out is better?" she demanded harshly.
"At least then we have a chance."
"With Dick poisoning humans' blood against you? No chance in hell. You may have the restraint not to feed on humans but on animals instead – because that will be the only pure blood source if Dickweed gets his will through – but a newbie's self-control? Not even close to good enough for that. They'll die out as soon as you turn them." She detected the subtle change in his expression and jumped on it, "I'm not telling we should go into an open war, I'm saying we should help the Winchesters. They are the safest bet – if someone can do it, it's them. They have a history of getting the most unlikely creatures to work with them. I'm quite confident that they'll have at least Crowley in their corner. They can manage it – with sheer dumb luck if nothing else," she smiled sardonically.
He hadn't said a word and was still mulling over the points she had raised when one of his children came in to let him know Edgar had arrived."I think it's best if you'll leave now. There's no reason to let them in on your presence," he told her once the vampire had closed the door behind himself.
She nodded curtly and no further words were exchanged as she slunk out of the room through the garden doors. Even with his hearing there were no sounds besides the unavoidable quiet click of the door closing signaling her departure.strong