Chapter Six

"This is it," Buffy announced to Sam and Dean when she stepped through the front door of her Sibleyville home a short time after they'd left the antique store.

It was still mid afternoon and the store wouldn't be closing for a few hours yet. Until that time, there was little else to be done so Buffy invited Dean and his brother home so that she could get a shower and banish her suit back to the closet from whence it came. Besides, she grown fond of both men, albeit in two very different ways and hated the idea that they would be stuck in that seedy little motel room for the rest of the day.

Also, she noticed Sam's condition even though she was reluctant to approach either about it even though it was plain something was wrong with the younger Winchester. He looked exhausted on every occasion that she'd met him and it was telling that Dean seemed to avoid that obvious subject.

Whatever the reason for his silence, Buffy wanted dinner. She wanted fresh clothes, something more appropriate for breaking and entering into an antique store. Funny, how that sounded cool at sixteen and now it just felt wrong. Yet when it came to slaying, there was never any moral dilemma as to how she would keep the two parts of her world separate. There was just the task at hand. Buffy knew what she risked if she was caught especially now that she was in teaching. However, it didn't matter as much as stopping whatever evil that was running loose in her city.

"Hey nice place," Dean complimented as he and Sam followed her into the house after leaving the Impala parked in the long driveway leading to the locked garage door. Buffy’s home was a single story brick house of modest size, painted in ash blue while the window and door frames were painted white. It had had bay windows on either side of the four panel glass and arch door that emptied into a small covered patio which she’d adorned with hanging flower pots.

The interior of the house was designed with half wall paneling in white, while the other half was a mild purple color that women probably referred to as called Berry or something, Dean thought. The living room contained a comfortable looking taupe sofa set arranged across a coca colored that matched the parquet floor. The ensemble sat in front of an impressive entertainment system and was surrounded by white shelves, in a design Dean knew form watching the Lifestyles of the Rich and Pointless, was called Cape Cod.

“You got a thing for funky art?” he asked looking at some of the exotic statues and masks on the wall.

“They’re my mom’s,” Buffy explained. “She used to run a gallery. Some of these pieces are hers. She put a lot of work into that place and I didn’t want to get rid of them.”

Dean could understand that. He maintained the Impala to ensure she was in pristine condition at all times. It was Dad's car and was almost a big a part of his family as Sam.

And it gave better mileage.

“I like your Klimt prints,” Sam added, observing the Tree of Life and the Kiss hanging on the walls. Sam recognised the paintinggs from the art books belonging to Jesse who majored in art at Stamford.

“Thanks,” Buffy answered, “I don’t know much about art but I always like those. They’re pretty.”

Closing the door behind her, she crossed the living room floor and sang out to the two. “Make yourselves comfortable boys. I'm getting out this Mormon suit," she made a beeline towards her bedroom

"Need help?" Dean quipped, unable to resist asking, a teasing smirk on his face.

"Grow up, dick," Sam retorted, swatting Dean across the shoulder with the back of his hand and spoke in a more mature tone. "Thank you Buffy." He said gratefully. "This is a lot nicer than hanging around the motel watching Dean’s continuing addiction to magic fingers.”

“Hey!" Dean shoved him back. "It’s a pure love." He grumbled.

"I don't want to know," she laughed enjoying the two of them messing with each other. It reminded her of the camaraderie she used to share with Willow and Xander. "Make sure you take a load off and I mean you SAM WINCHESTER. You look like you could use it."

With that order given and it was an order as far as Buffy was concerned, she disappeared into her bedroom, leaving them to their own devices.

"You heard what she said," Dean voicing his approval of the order and shoved Sam onto the plush sofa. Sam sank into a bit and Dean saw the air expel from his lungs as he relaxed. "Take a load of while I see what she's got to drink in the fridge. Knowing a chick, it’s probably some fruit mixer. She doesn't look like the beer type." Oh well, Dean thought to himself. Nobody was perfect.

Sam didn't disobey because he was tired. He'd been trying to hide how badly he was feeling but Buffy's comment indicated that she'd seen it too and that would not make Dean happy. Still however, bad they thought he was, in truth Sam knew he was worse. Sam was aware that his brother was already worried about him, not to mention guilty as hell that he wasn't doing the trials instead. If he knew how badly Sam was feeling, he'd insist on Sam stopping and the younger Winchester wasn't ready to do that yet.

Looking around while he waited for Dean to come back from rummaging inside Buffy's fridge, he caught sight of the picture frame on the coffee table. The photograph was of a sixteen year old Buffy in a cheerleader outfit with two friends, a sweet looking redhead and a dark haired boy. It was hard to imagine that this cute little blond and her Scoobies, as Buffy called them, were killing vampires when this picture was taken.

Dean returned a minute later with bottle of Coke for himself and some juice for Sam. "Drink this up." Dean saw handed him the glass, using the same tone he used when he was making Sammy brush his teeth and wash behind his ears when they were kids.

Exchanging the glass for the picture frame, Sam retorted. "Here, all your dreams come true. Your dream girl in a cheerleader's outfit."

"Give me that," Dean growled at the mention of Buffy being his dream girl and looked at the picture of a fifteen year old Buffy, appearing so fucking sweet it actually hurt to look at her. She was good enough to eat. "Damn, she really had a nice pair of.... uh pom poms." Dean sighed and then wondered out loud wistfully, "I wonder if she still has her costume."

Sam was in mid swallow when he saw the expression on his brother's face and lowered his glass, looking at Dean meaningfully. "You really like her don't you?"

"Nooo," Dean protested just a little quickly and then added, "Look she's hot but she's just another girl okay? We'll be skipping town as soon as this job is done so its not like there's going to be anything more."

"Why not?" Sam questioned, finding that was no excuse anymore. "It doesn't have to be that way Dean. I mean we're more of less living in the bunker at Lebanon. That's not too far away from Lawrence besides..." he started to say more than ground himself to a halt when he realized what he had almost inadvertently revealed.

"Besides what?" Dean demanded suspiciously, certain what remained unspoken had nothing to do with Buffy. Sam was on the verge of saying something important; Dean could tell by the way he quickly disengaged from their verbal sparing that he had almost let something slip.

Knowing that look well enough, Sam knew Dean would continue to hound him until he gave it up. Reluctantly he answered; "If anything happens to me when the trials are done, I don't want you be alone."

"Stop." Dean stated so sharply it almost drew blood. "We are not talking about this. Do you hear me? I don't want to hear you saying that you’re going to die. This is not the time or place to have that conversation."

"Then when Dean?" Sam countered. Dean’s stubbornness could sometimes border on obstinacy and Sam was not about to let this go yet. “When its too late? Come on Dean, we always leave it to the end to say the important stuff and most time, we never get the chance to do it right. If I can't have a normal life because of these trials, I want you to be able to. God, if Buffy can do it, so can you. This can't be all we're about."

Dean turned away, staring out of the window, seeing the world outside the bay windows. The neighborhood kids were playing outside on their lawns. Some were cycling down the path while others were playing Frisbee with their dogs. Parents were coming from work, the grocery stores or were watering and mowing lawns. The business of life was taking place all around them and they’d never really been a part of it. Not since Yellow Eyes torched their mother and destroyed their father.

Separated from the world by a sheet of glass was the perfect metaphor for the Winchester existence.

****

Oblivious to the serious matters being discussed in her living room, Buffy discarded her suit and decided the boys would be alright on their own while she grabbed a shower. Stepping into the bathroom, she disrobed and turned on the water, allowing the hot spray go run for a few seconds before closing the glass door behind her after she stepped into the cubicle of blue-green tiles.

She stood under the hot water, letting it soaked into her hair and run down her back. It felt good after the day she’d had. It wasn’t so much physically exhausting as it was mentally. Terry Sherman and her family’s loss had affected Buffy more than she cared to admit and she wondered what shape Diane Lee had been in when Dean and Sam spoke to her. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she had completely missed the presence of a supernatural threat in Lawrence until two civilians had arrived in their black Impala to remind her that she’d dropped the ball in her new home town.

Not for the first time since meeting Dean Winchester, she wondered whether she had been selfish about walking away from the life. There were people who still needed help; the danger didn’t stop because she wanted a normal life. Assuming Faith and the baby slayers would take care of the things was an excuse. Where was Faith when Bob Sherman and Warren Benson were being murdered? Where was she? Dean and Sam who were ordinary people driven to a nomadic existence, with no powers, no Watcher Council to hold their hand, compelled to help people because they believed no one else could do it.

She pondered these thoughts as she showered. After washing and conditioning her hair, Buffy basked in the sweet scent of strawberry essence soap, relishing in the sensation of warm water against her skin. Nothing bad could go wrong when you have clean hair, she told herself. Closing her eyes, she meditated under the stream of hot water, aware that she’d have to get out soon because she had guests and also because she’d start to prune.

Then suddenly, without warning, she was surprised by the sensation of a hard male body pressing up against her back. Her first reaction was to elbow Dean Winchester in the gut for his presumption. Really? While his brother was in the house? The guy was cute but he was also a pig. Did he think that surprising her in the shower like this was going to get him laid? Even if it had been one year, three months and six days since she'd had sex.

Not that she was counting.

“Are you kidding me?” She exclaimed, feigning outrage as she started to turn around in order to face him. He pre-empted her movement by sliding around her waist and pulling her harder against. The small of her back scraped against the slippery texture of wet fabric. He was still wearing his pants, she thought fleetingly. Thank God. Still the sensation of hard muscle against her back was tantalising, even more so when his lips began planting soft, delicate kisses along her shoulder, following the trail up the curve of her neck.

Despite herself, she let out an involuntary gasp of pleasure that melted into a soft sigh as her traitorous body reacted to his expert touch and after a moment, Buffy wondered why the hell she was resisting. She was a consenting adult after all. Still she didn't want to seem to eager.

“You know, you really are a total pig.” she replied in a breathy whisper, her half hearted protest ending with her reaching for his hand, while his brushed aside the wet locks of hair so he could have greater access to her skin to ply her neck with those maddening kisses.

“Hey Counsellor, Sam and I figured we go Chinese…you okay with that?”

It was Dean but his voice coming from the other side of her bathroom door.

Buffy stiffened immediately and turn around so fast, she almost slipped on the tiles. An arm caught her arm before she fell and Buffy lifted her gaze to stare into eyes she knew and hated that so often visited her in nightmares.

“Hello Slayer,” Angelus smiled at her, “Together again.”

****

Dean had entered her room a minute earlier after knocking on her bedroom door and receiving no answer. Turning the door knob, he risked taking a peek through the crack of her bedroom door to see that she had stepped into the shower. The bathroom door was closed and the shower was hissing steam through the door jam. Instead of retreating, Dean's curiosity got the better of him and he stole a moment to check out her bedroom. He tested the mattress of her double bed and grinned mischievously when the springs creaked. Nice, he thought as purely sinful thoughts ran across his mind about how this could be achieved.

Moving away from the bed, he examined with interest the photograph in frames on her bedside table, there was one of another blond cutie whom Dean assumed to be Buffy’s sister Dawn by the family resemblance. Next to it, in a silver frame was a photograph of an elegantly lovely woman he guessed was Buffy's mother. Studying Joyce Summers, it was no surprise where Buffy and Dawn got their looks. Leaving her bedside table, he wandered over to her dressing table and absently picked up a bottle of perfume. Taking the off the lid of the blue bottle marked BLV, Dean took an experimental sniff and breathed in the scent he now associated exclusively with her.

It was very much a girl's bedroom but he liked it, it gave him some insight into her personality. Even if she killed monsters and vampires, she was unashamedly feminine. He liked that she didn't to play at being male like some women tended to do when they were competing against men. As if giving up their femininity was the sacrifice they had to make to be considered as good. That was not a sacrifice he’d expect any woman to make and any guy who did, was a complete douchebag with self-esteem issues.

Which was definitely not him.

Deciding that his observations of her bedroom were starting to border on pervy, Dean got on with what he had come into the room for in the first place. Standing at the bathroom door, he sang out to her.

"Hey Counsellor, Sam and I figured we go Chinese...you okay with that?"

His answer was a crash so loud and sudden that Dean jumped back startled. However, his shock lasted but for a second because soon after, he heard more glass breaking and that propelled him towards the door again. Reaching for the knob to yank it open, he turned it quickly only to find that it was refusing to open. It was either locked or jammed. Dean didn’t know which and frankly he didn't really care. It was bad enough he could hear the sounds of violence on the other side of the door, the slapping of flesh against tiles.

"What the hell Dean?" Sam demanded as he burst into Buffy's bedroom just as Dean kicked in the bathroom door.

The lock was torn away from the wooden door, leaving ripped splinters clinging to the frame. It swung forward and Dean was through it immediately, entering the small space of Buffy's bathroom to find her inside the shower cubicle with a half dressed man. He arrived just in time to see the bastard smash Buffy's face against the wall so hard, it left a smear of blood across the tiles for an instant before being washed away by the running water. Buffy was already wearing a gash across her forehead and more blood ran down her face from beneath her hair.

"Let ther go you son of a bitch!" Dean bellowed as he saw Buffy being manhandled. She looked disorientated and struggling to regain her senses. Where the fuck had he come from? Dean wondered fleetingly.

Upon seeing Dean, Buffy's attacked looked up at him and grinned. "You went human this time baby? That makes it so much easier to snap his neck or maybe I'll do you solid and maintain your track record by turning him. You have a thing for vamps don't you?"

Laughing, he flung Buffy through the glass door, using her body to shatter it completely and sending her straight into the ceramic bathroom sink. Dean rushed to intercept but he couldn't quite reach her in time and his stomach hollowed hearing the terrible crack her head made when it hit the edge of the sink.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Dean shouted and went for the vampire.

Sam had disappeared when Dean broke into the room because neither of them were armed. He raced to the Impala to get weaponized before returning to see Dean going after the vampire.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to stop him from rushing in recklessly. Sam knew what his brother was like when enraged. Seeing the girl he cared for bloody and battered would certainly send Dean into murderous fury that would compromise his judgement.

Dean ignored him.

"Get Buffy!" He ordered his brother as he slammed his body into Angelus who was trying to step through the remnants of the broken shower door. His full weight shoved the vampire against the tile wall, the hot spray of water rushing over them both. Dean wasted no time in going on the offensive. He threw an elbow into the vampire's face, following with left right punch across the fucker's jaw, wanting to remove the smug sneer he’d worn when he threw Buffy about like trash.

Angelus fended off the blows easily, his head snapping left to right before facing front again, the same smile stealing across his face, infuriating Dean even further. "You going to have to do better than that," he retorted prompting to Dean to throw another punch. Except this time the vamp caught his fist and threw one of his own blows. Angelus flung Dean back into opposite wall, the back of his head hitting the tile wall. He threw another punch across Dean’s jaw and it felt like being hit with a sledgehammer. Dean felt his mouth filling with blood. Another punch came at him but this time; he’d recovered enough to block it and retaliated by kicking Angelus in the gut. The slippery floor caused Angelus to slide out of the cubicle.

He crashed against the bathroom sink and Dean snatched up the ceramic cistern cover of the toilet and smashed it against the vampire's skull. Pieces of ceramic crumbled around their feet and Dean punched him again, intending to beat the son of a bitch into submission until he figured out a way to end him permanently. Dean swung again but this time, Angelus sidestepped him at the last minute, upsetting his balance and allowing the vampire to get behind him. Angelus did not waste the advantage and slammed Dean's head against the bathroom mirror. The glass cracked beneath his forehead and Dean felt warm blood running down his face.

Dazed, Dean tried to recover but his opponent was giving him no chance for that. Taking avantage of his disorientation, Angelus spun the hunter around and clamped his fingers around Dean's throat, hoisting him off the wet floor with ease.

“You're good in a fight” Angelus complimented, "Maybe one of the best I've had to deal with in the last two hundred years but you're still a fragile human when its all said and done." He tightened his fingers even more until Dean could start to feel the skin of his neck starting to bleed and he could barely get a breath out. Any more of this and he was going to pass out.

"Dean!" Sam shouted entering the bathroom and seeing his brother at the mercy of the vampire he had been told was called Angelus. Pulling out Ruby’s knife, he prepared to plunge the blade into Angelus when the vampire flung Dean at him like his older brother was a rag doll. Both men tumbled out the bathroom door, landing just past the doorway.

Dean was still gaspinng for air when Sam rolled over to him and asked frantically “Dean, are you okay?”

Coughing hard and struggling to breathe, Dean attempted to choke out a few strangled words, “Buh...Buf…”

“Buffy?” Sam finally got what he was trying to stay. “She’s…”

“…Fine. ” Buffy spoke for herself, eyes fixed on Angelus.

Dean had seen killers with kinder eyes.

Now wearing a robe, Buffy had recovered after Sam had taken her out of her ruined bathroom in time to hear Dean battling it out with the bane of her existence, the monster that never seemed to die. He’d taken her by surprise in the bathroom, getting the upper hand because she was rusty and because he was wearing Angel’s face, the one person in the world who could always throw her off balance. Buffy was shaking off her disorientation when Sam left to go help Dean whom she knew couldn’t last for too long without a weapon against a vampire of Angelus’ calibre.

Angelus emerged from the door, surveying the situation and immediately resting his eyes on her. “Well looks like your new puppy has got a bit of teeth to him Buffy. When I’m done with you I’m going to pull everyone of them out.”

“Like hell you will,” Buffy retorted and ran at him.

He blocked her first blow but not her second. Buffy delivered a powerful right hook and when he dodged it, switched to a sharp upper cut that caught him beneath the chin. When his eye contact was broken, she lashed out with a front kick that struck him on the side of his jaw. Angelus retaliated with as much ferocity, throwing a side kick that struck Buffy’s side. She felt a rib snap but it was not enough to slow her down.

She delivered a punch to his stomach, forcing him to double over before she fisted her hands and brought it down on his back. At the same time, she brought up her knee, smashing it in the centre of his chest. Grabbing his arm, she flung him into the corner of the room and pummelled him with strike after strike, fury driving her extraordinary speed so that it was impossible for him to fend all of them off.

Each blow she delivered to the face that belonged to Angel made her want to scream in fury. How many times did she have to do this? How many times would he keep coming back and inflicting wounds that were never as bad physically as they were emotionally? It was never about the pain with him, just the torment. Even now, when she’d met Dean, someone she’d really liked, he had surfaced again to blight that relationship before it even had a chance to begin.

“GET....OUT...OF...MY....LIFE...YOU...SADISTIC…BASTARD!” She screamed, punctuating each word with every punch she delivered until Angelus’ knees buckled; his face turning into ruined flesh. All the while, even when he was bleeding, he was gloating at her with that hateful sneer, like he’d still won even though she was the one pounding him into pulp.

“Buffy, catch!” She heard Sam’s voice call out from behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the younger Winchester toss her a knife which she caught with one hand.

“It’s a demon knife!” He told her.

She had no idea what that meant but if he believed that it was kill a vampire, she'd use it. Without giving Angelus the chance to say any other hateful thing, she plunged the blade into his chest, driving it as far as it would go, until only the hilt protruded from his body.

No sooner than the blade had sliced through his heart, the body of Angelus disappeared in a burst of ash but it was only Angel she saw dissipating into nothingness. She let go of the knife, letting it fall against the floor in loud thud. She exhaled a shuddering breath and sank to her knees, staring stared at the pile of ash before she cried a furious scream of outrage that made both Dean and Sam jump at the anguish and pain behind it.

Years ago, she learned Angel had died in Los Angeles. She was sure she had felt him die because her heart broke all over again. For the second time in her life, she had wept for him, wept for the tragedy that was their love for each other. It had never felt wrong but it was never right either. It took so long for the wound he’d left behind to heal and now in a matter of minutes, the demon Angelus had ripped it bloody again.

She didn’t know when she started sobbing but she did.

Confused by her reaction, Sam was about to speak but Dean gestured for him to remain silent. Body still aching, he pulled away from Sam and crawled up alongside of her. He didn’t know what exactly had gone on between her and that vamp but the personal way the son of a bitch had attacked, told Dean enough.

He recognized the familiar anguish of being pushed to breaking point. When she'd gone after the guy and pounded him bloody (how hot was that), Dean could see her pain was more that was as profound as any he had suffered and that she was just as wounded as him. Dean had been where she was now so many times before he could barely keep count. By the looks of her right now, so had she.

Dean tugged her gently towards him. When her tear stained eyes met his, he felt his heart melt in his chest. He’d never thought her tears could feel like a knife in the chest but it did. He didn’t understand why he felt this connection to her, why seeing her smile could light up his heart the way his mom used to do when she tucked him into bed and told him that angels were watching. All he knew was he couldn’t stand to see her cry and not do anything about it.

“Come on Counsellor,” Dean said softly, his throat burned and his voice hoarse but he forced himself to speak. “Come on.”

Buffy needed no more prompting than that, bursting into tears as she buried her face in his shoulder. Dean wrapped him arms around and let her cry, holding her because she needed him to.

TO BE CONTINUED