Chapter Seven

“I was sixteen when I met him,” Buffy said softly, lying against Dean on the sofa an hour later.

They’d patched each other up, gotten fresh clothes out of the Impala and ordered Chinese food. Dean had insisted he and Sam stay the night and Buffy did not protest. After what had happened with Angelus, she was unafraid to admit she was shaken and could use the company.

Dean Winchester had also revealed yet another layer to his personality Buffy had not expected. The care in which he handled her after the emotionally devastating experience of facing Angelus again, was revelation. There was none of the earlier sexual innuendo or cocky advances that was so much of their banter. Instead, he did his best to be tender and mindful of her feelings as he treated her wounds and held back his questions about who Angelus was to her.

It was tenderness she needed badly because even after all this time, she was still susceptible to Angelus’ vicious mind games. All it took was for her to see his face and she was transported back to her seventeenth birthday when Angel had taken virginity only to have Angelus spit it back at her. In the shower, she had thought he was Dean and the thrill of something exciting between them had become another cruel joke. A decade later and Angelus could still leave behind wounds that not even her slayer abilities could heal.

When Buffy came back to his arms, it felt to Dean like the most natural thing in the world, that maybe he’d been waiting his whole life for a girl to fit so perfectly there. Her sadness prompted a fierce desire in him to protect her not only because she needed it but also because Dean understood her in a way he never understood any woman in his whole life. Perhaps even more than Lisa Braeden whom he’d really thought he loved.

However, with Buffy it was different.

Dean got Buffy. He got what made her tick, what made her walk away and he understood without her having to explain, though she did, what was between her and Angelus. Dean recognised that they were both warriors who could defend against most attacks except the ones to the heart that seem to cut them the deepest.

Sam said nothing as he lay sprawled on the arm chair next them, his long frame accommodated by the ottoman beneath his feet. Sam seemed to be watching with interest though he made no comment. It was as if he realised that his thing between Buffy and him was still fragile and could collapse under scrutiny. Furthermore, Dean could have sworn that saw a glimmer in Sam’s eyes of what could be contentment, like his plan to ensure Dean didn’t end up alone, was moving according to plan.

Dean wasn't admitting to anything but he did like holding Buffy and being the guy she felt comfortable enough with to show her vulnerability. Perhaps Dean might return the favour someday.

“Angelus?” Sam asked.

“No,” Buffy replied, shaking her head. “When I met him, he called himself Angel. I didn’t know that he was a vampire when I first met him. I found out later.” Her eyes glazed over a second, remembering when she’d found out, what a hammer punch to the gut it had been. She’d probably knew she was in love with him before that but finding out had never made her hate vampires more.

Even without saying it, Dean understood what ‘later’ meant. After she started to care about the guy, after she loved him. A few years ago, knowing that she’d loved a vampire would have freaked him the hell right out. However, he’d spent a year in Purgatory with a vampire who had saved his ass more times than he’d thought possible. If it wasn’t for Benny, Dean would still be stuck in Purgatory.  It easy to say that Benny only watched Dean’s back for his own ends but Dean was certain that the vampire had considered him a friend. Certainly when they’d escaped, Benny had said so instead of trying to take a bite out of him.

Buffy went on to relate the tale of how Angel had been Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, how for two hundred years, his savagery was the stuff of legend, even among vampires until a curse had brought all that to an end. The soul of the human who had owned the body had been forced back into that sinful vessel to endure the consequences for the demon’s actions. And that hadn’t even been the worst part of the curse. It was stunning in its cruelty, Dean thought and he found himself feeling for this Angel who was forced to pay penance for crimes he hadn’t really committed.

By the time she was done telling her story, Buffy felt raw and hollowed out. After all these years, it infuriated her that Angelus could still play havoc with her emotions, even after Angel was gone and she had moved on. A part of her would always remember what it was like to be that sixteen year old girl who loved so hard that it burned the heart out of her and another part wished she’d never met Angel in the first place.

“That’s rough,” Sam spoke first, uncertain how else to put it. “And he died in Los Angeles? You’re certain of it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Buffy answered, remembering the aftermath of the Wolfram and Hart battle. The only one left standing had been the demon Illyria and she had since crossed over to her home dimension. Angel and Spike had both been killed, turned to dust. Even if there wasn’t the eye witness account, Buffy knew it was true; she’d dreamt it. Her Slayer abilities gave her some prescience in dreams and occasionally warned her of danger. In this instance, it had allowed her to see Angel’s last moments. He had died fighting and when he met his end; the thread between them severed for good.

“So this can’t be him,” Sam stated. "If he died the way he did in your shower, then there was no body left." In the last few years, he and Dean had encountered an odd number of vampires who could be killed by a wooden stake, who could not move in sunlight at all and burst into balls of ash upon death. Bobby had believed that vampires like humans could evolve and this particular line seemed more vulnerable but they bred more. It wasn't much of a trade-off.

“Sammy’s right,” Dean agreed, his voice still hoarse. He shifted slightly on the sofa and it resulted in Buffy sidling closer against him and outcome he did not at all find unpleasant. "This had to be a shifter to be able to look like this guy or something else that can change appearance. Maybe a doppelganger maybe but they’re usually spirits and the demon knife would have done jack to it."

Silently, Buffy marvelled at how Dean and Sam speculated on the creature that had attacked her tonight. Like conversations like this was all the norm for them. In the past, Buffy had not believed normal humans were capable of handling themselves against the monsters in the dark but Sam and Dean challenged that perception with each passing moment. Not only were they versed on the lore, impressive when one considered that they and other hunters like them had compiled this information with no help from the Watcher Council. However Dean proved that with an appropriate weapon, he could hold his own against vampires and demons. She had no doubt that Sam was similarly skilled.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Dean added, "this coming so soon after Benson get mauled by some nasty and Sherman gets turned into bug food and now Buffy sees her worst fucking nightmare…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam sat up straighter at Dean's comment, his formidable intellect fully processing at that chance statement. As Dean and Buffy stared at him in expectation, Sam held up a hand for them to hold on while he processed the idea that had come to him to its natural conclusion. "Maybe's that's the connection," he declared.

"What's the connection?" Dean demanded, familiar with the sudden spark in Sam's eyes that usually told him that something in that shaggy coconut of his brother's had connected the dots from A to Z.

Sam leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe it’s not a shape shifter, maybe it’s something that can take on the shape of things that scares us. I mean how else would it know about Angelus and then have him just appear in your house? A vampire would need an invite in."

“But what about Benson and Sherman?" Buffy asked, lifting her head out of Dean's shoulder enough to look at Sam. “This thing just showed up and killed them?”  

"I’m guessing yes. I mean it’s clear that the antique store figures into this. Shortly after being there, they both get confronted by some aspect of their fears," Sam explained, "but unlike you, they didn't know how to fight back and got killed."

It made sense. As much as Angelus scared her, she also hated him with a passion that no one could ever understand. She hated that he wore Angel's face when he inflicted savage hurt on his victims. People thought her hatred of him was because of what he had done to her and her friends but it was the fact that he was wearing Angel's face while doing it. Each time they faced each other, she just wanted to rip that visage to pieces so the demon would wear its true face, not the mask of her former love.

“The first thing we do tomorrow is talk to the families again,” Dean declared seeing that this was the obvious next step. "Sammy and I will get Warren Benson and Counsellor, you should talk to Terry Sherman. I think you two had some kind of chick flick moment going, so she might be more willing to talk to you then me and Gigantor here."

"Thanks," Sam made a face at him.

Buffy smiled faintly but Dean’s description aside, she did feel she had established a rapport of trust with the grieving widow that might help her to get the information needed on Terry Sherman’s husband.  “So we’re talking about fears, phobias or anything that gives these people the wiggins so we can narrow down our creature feature?”

"In a nutshell sweetheart," Dean winked, regaining some of his earlier cockiness.

It was a solid plan of attack. While it was simple enough to go after the thing in the antique shop right away, without an idea of what they were dealing with they could inadvertently let the thing escape by playing their hand too soon. It was clear the monster was going nowhere and only starting to rack up its body count.

As Buffy considered this, Dean nodded at Sam slightly, giving his brother the signal to give him and Buffy some privacy.  Sam rolled his eyes but offered no verbal protest, aware that Dean probably wanted to ask Buffy more about this Angel guy and it would probably be better served if he wasn’t around. Besides, Dean not behaving like a dick trying to get into the girl’s pants was a clear indication that his brother was seeing Buffy as more than just another extra in a Porky’s film.   

“Well if we’re not doing the antique store tonight,” Sam said standing up for the arm chair, “I’m gonna bail and get some shut eye.   Thanks again for the room Buffy," he smiled at her, genuinely grateful for being able to sleep on a bed that wasn’t being rented out by the hour.

“No problem,” Buffy replied, making no effort to get to her feet since she’d already shown him the room earlier and put out the additional linen needed.  

Buffy waited until Sam had gone before she raised her head so that she could look Dean in the eye, “Thank you Dean. Thank you for being here. I know we just met and all…”

“Counsellor,” he stopped her there, “I get it. Old boyfriends can rip you a new one and it’s even worse when it’s some asshole wearing your boyfriend’s face.”  He said with typical Dean Winchester tact.  He paused a moment and then asked in a less confronting tone, “you gonna be alright?”

“I will,” Buffy sighed with a slight nod. “I’m always a little wigged out after dealing with him. I hate it that after all these years, he still gets to me.”

“Hey they say the first ones are hardest to get over,” Dean remarked and then held her gaze, needing it answered for himself that she was actually over this Angel guy. He liked her a hell of a lot but he wasn’t anyone’s rebound.

Buffy was astute enough to recognise the ulterior motive in his comment and smiled faintly, flattered by the desire to question her lingering feelings for Angel. “I’m over him but I can’t forget I cared about him and seeing Angelus just pisses me off.”

“I can relate,” Dean replied and went on to explain how it had been for him when Sam had allowed Lucifer to take him as a vessel. Seeing your brother and knowing it was the devil inside him had been nothing less than terrifying for Dean and to this day, he still had nightmares about having surrendered Sammy to his fate. Even though Dean was lucky and he got Sam back eventually, those initial few months even with Lisa consoling him had been hard.

“God,” Buffy sat up, bracing her elbow against the back of the sofa so that she could look at him, “you think we get some breaks with this job but we don’t. We keep ending up making sacrifices of the people we care about.”

“It’s twisted is what it is,” Dean agreed frowning, “I’ve given up trying to figure out why and just decided that the only thing that matters is keeping the people I care about safe. Everything else can be worked around that.”

“I like that,” Buffy nodded with approval before saying with a sigh, “I’m going to bed. Are you going to be okay here on the couch?” She asked, realising too late that would probably give him an opening to make some cheesy come on. Still, if he did make the proposition about climbing into bed with her, Buffy wasn’t entirely sure she’d say no after what had happened today.

“It will do for now,” Dean replied, surprising her with his answer. His eyes still glimmered with mischief and he knew she’d be expecting something different so he added, “But I can’t say I will have the same answer the next time you ask me.”

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?” She threw back, matching his playful tone. After where she’d spent the last few hours, Buffy didn’t mind flirting with him again.  It was also telling that despite Angelus’ sudden appearance, Buffy wasn’t too emotionally wrecked to enjoy it.

“Come on Counsellor,” his voice dropped an octave to that maddening tone he had used in the Saloon before the scream from Sherman’s employee had ruined the mood, “I think we both know there will be a next time.”

“You’re just so full of it,” she snorted and turned away but secretly knew he was probably right.

*****

These days when Sam slept, it was so deep that little could snap him out of it. In the past, he’d get by on five hours sleep, especially when they were moving from job to job and didn’t always have the luxury of sleeping in beds. There had been too many times where he’d slept in the Impala and while it was a large car, it was never made to accommodate his 6’4 frame with ease. Nevertheless, he managed to train his body to get those precious hours so that he’d be somewhat refreshed when he woke up.

Since the trials however, Sam had been doubling those hours in sleep and when Dean didn’t wake him, he’d sometimes triple that time. Worse yet, his sleep was black and dreamless. It was almost as if his brain had to shut down to in order to recoup his strength. To say nothing of the fact that Dean had to shake him awake at times because he couldn’t be roused out of his slumber.

Tonight in Buffy’s spare room, there had been no such difficulty.

He woke up the minute he felt the pain.

More than just pain. Agony. It was exquisite in its intensity. So sharp and sudden that he screamed without even being aware that he had made the sound. Sam Winchester tried to sit up in his bed and found that he couldn't because any attempt to move his arms or legs caused such piercing pain he hardly dared to breathe, let alone move further. He could feel warm fluid running down his limbs until he could feel the pregnant drops growing heavy on the underside of him before dripping to the floor.

The plink, plink, plink sound against stone were like drums in his head.

Amidst the pain, he recognised where he was and the realisation started him screaming again, this time in mindless terror.

The Cage. He was back in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer.

*******

Dean fell off the sofa when he was awoken by Sam's scream.

The cold fear that struck him at the sound of Sam crying out like that had Dean scrambling towards the hallway without thinking about anything except getting to his brother. He almost collided with Buffy who had emerged from her bedroom in a similar state of haste and any question she might have had was muted by another cry from Sam. Without saying a word, they both ran down the hallway, almost matching each other stride for stride but it was Dean, driven by fear for Sam, who got to the door first.

When he yanked it open, the first thing that hit him was the smell. It felt like he'd stepped into the middle of a volcano. Sulfur, the scent he recognised all his life to be the afterbirth of a demon’s presence, wafted down the hallway through the open door.

"Watch out!" Buffy shouted, grabbing onto the belt hook of his jeans before he stepped over the threshold into a room that no longer existed. Where there should have been a carpeted floor was a drop to the ground was almost six feet deep and composed purely of concrete, not shaggy blue pile.

"What the fuck....!" Dean exclaimed and took a second to comprehend what he was seeing.

The bedroom which only this evening looked like it'd been spat out by an Ikea catalogue now resembled the killing floor of an old abattoir. The smell of sulfur was intermingled with the stench of blood, sweat and shit, creating a stomach turning odour that made him cover his hand with his mouth just to keep from gagging. The room was all stone and concrete, with cruelly sharp blades hanging on the wall. They were all rusted and bloody, trailing rivulets of red from where they were positioned. The killing floor was covered in pieces of flesh, denuded bone and viscera, creating an image that would have been appropriate in a verse from Dante’ Inferno. It was bathed in a red glow although where it was radiating from, Dean couldn't say because all he could see was Sam.

"Oh my God," Buffy gasped, her eyes widening in shock and horror as she saw Sam Winchester, hanging off the floor in the middle of the room. He was being suspended up by sharp hooks that had torn through his arms and legs. For a moment, he looked like a marionette puppet on strings. His blood was running down his arms and his thighs, dribbling onto the floor behind him as if he was being slowly bled to death.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, similarly horrified as he bolted forward, trying to ignore the parallels between this scene and his memories of being tortured in hell. For his crime as a hunter, he’d be strung up in a trap like this, the plaything of torture for every demon who wanted to get its freak on in retaliation for sending their filthy asses to hell.

Sam stopped screaming when he heard Dean’s voice, trying to decide if this was a hallucination that Lucifer and Michael was taunting him with or that Dean was really here. Sam didn’t care, he would take what he could get, even if it was a fake. Hearing Dean’s voice was enough to calm him down and he struggled to get free, crying out when his attempts to catch a glimpse of Dean made the hooks embedded in his flesh pull harder.

"Dean! Get me out of here!” He begged. “Please Dean! Help me!"

"Just hang on Sammy!" Dean shouted unable to ignore the desperation in his voice. It shook him to the core hearing his brother cry for him the way Sammy had done when he was a child having nightmares and Dean had to comfort him. "I'm coming!"

Dean didn't notice that Buffy hadn’t following him when he went searching for the rigging that had his brother trussed up like an animal for the slaughter. Sam was freaking out and for good reason; he'd been caged up with Lucifer and Michael, bearing the brunt of their vengeance at being trapped together for all eternity. They'd ripped his soul to shreds for a year, returning him to the world with wounds that not even an angel was able to heal completely.  

This is not real, Sam told himself. I'm not in the cage, he chanted to himself. I'm not in the cage.  Struggling to maintain the tenuous control of his composure, Sam told himself that if Dean was here, then he was being attacked by the same creature who had appeared to Buffy as Angelus.

Dean spotted the handle of the pulley attached to the chains holding Sam against the wall. Like everything else in the place, it was rusted over and appeared like it was the relic of a previous century. He crossed the killing floor, ignoring the blood and underfoot and prayed that none of it belonged to Sam, when something came out of the shadowy stalls and backhanded him with a blow so powerful he flew across the floor to land in a pile of rotting flesh.

"Hello Dean," the face of Adam Milligan stared at him, except Dean knew immediately that this wasn't his dead brother. It was Michael.

"Oh hey Michael," Dean grunted, trying to get up even though his face was burning and he was bleeding from the re-opened wounds inflicted by Angelus earlier. "Love what you guys have done with the place. Could use some paint though."

"Well we were planning to do that with your blood," Michael hissed closing in on him again, the angel's eyes filled with dark hatred at the main culprit for his imprisonment in the pit. "Then we can get back to playing with our favourite pet, right Sam?"

"Dean," Sam grunted, trying to free himself but resulted in tearing his flesh further at each attempt. "Get out of here."

"Oh no Dean can't go yet," Michael said reaching Dean, "Lucifer and I finally get our very own Winchester to pull apart like a fly. You're Lucifer's and Deano here is mine."

Dean tried to get past Michael but the vengeful arch angel was having none of that and threw another punch at Dean before the older Winchester could avoid it. The power and rage behind the blow connected to his jaw, dislodging a tooth and spurting blood from his mouth. Michael’s punch was like a sledgehammer and Dean literally stars. He went sprawling and landed badly. The crack of ribs was hurt and he uttered an involuntary cry of pain when suddenly, he saw something land between Michael and himself.

"Hey," Buffy stood up in front of Michael, "who said you could mess up his pretty face?"

With that, she swung the mace in her hand and smashed it against the side of Michael's skull. Blood splattered across her Buffy’s Tweety Bird pyjama top. Michael staggered backwards and Buffy gave him no quarter, swinging again and putting all her strength into it. The impact of the heavy metal weapon against Michael’s face lifted him off his feet and flung him half way across the room. He landed in the middle of the killing floor with a heavy thud, creating an ugly streak across the blood soaked floor. Taking advantage of Michael’s brief disorientation, Buffy turned away and hurried to Dean.

"Are you okay?" She asked, hauling him to his feet easily.

"That was kind of awesome." Dean declared, aware that he was smiling like a dork, even though he was sure his jaw looked like pulp.

"You get Sam," Buffy ordered, brushing her fingers against his ravaged jaw, "I'll keep him busy." She said turning back to Michael.

Dean wasn't about to argue with her and when she went to confront Michael, he hurried towards the mechanism holding Sam in place. He winced with each movement as his head throbbed and his body aching thanks to the ribs he knew he’d broken when he landed. "Hold on Sammy!" Dean tried to cry out but his mouth wasn't cooperating and his words escaped him slurred.

Buffy saw Michael get up and though the side of his face was almost caved in, he was still standing. She saw him smile at her, his teeth visible through the torn flesh of his cheek She had no idea what this place was to Sam Winchester but it was worse than anything she'd ever encountered in Sunnydale. Even the Hellmouth hadn't bore the grisly horror of this place.

"A girl," Michael said grinning, blood rushing down his chin, dribbling onto his shirt. "Now that's a real playmate for all eternity. So many things to do, so many places to explore, so many intimate ways for her us to get to know each other." He showed her a long bladed butcher's knife as he approached her.

"Sorry, I don't maim on the first date,"' Buffy retorted and blocked his attempt to stab her before she brought down the mace against his shoulder.

*******

In the meantime, Dean had managed to lower Sam from the ceiling to the blood soaked floor. The chains holding him suspended rattled as he descended and Dean’s stomach hollowed at the sight of the hooks that had were caught onto Sam’s limbs like he was a slab meat waiting to be carved. As soon as he was down, Dean hurried to him and stopped short as he saw Sam covered in blood, looking almost dead.

"Jesus Sammy," Dean grimaced as he dropped to his knees to free Sam, trying to ignore the blood staining his hand as he remove the sharp hooks penetrating his brother's limbs without causing further damage. “I’ll get you out of these things in a second,” he said trying to assure Sam even though he couldn’t see how he was going to get them off his little brother without causing him more pain.

"Can't be any worse than what you went through," Sam gasped with each stab of fresh pain lancing through him as Dean tried to extricate him from the torture device. He let out a sharp groan of pain when one of the hooks caught, tears of agony running down his face. “I’d forgotten how much fun this place was.” He tried to joke but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Next time, let’s just go to a strip club for fun,” Dean retorted, tossing aside another hook and repeating the procedure one by one until Sam was completely free of the things. Reaching around Sam’s shoulder, said gently. “Try to stand if you can.” He said trying to help Sam to his feet but it wasn’t easy. The hooks had been driven through muscle tissue to hold Sam’s weight aloft and now that he tried to stand, those same muscles pulsed with fresh blood as he tried to move.  

“We’ll get you help Sammy,” Dean assured him, hiding his horror at his brother’s injuries as they led him towards the entrance to the hallway in Buffy’s home. Somehow, this pocket universe that contained Lucifer’s cage was still tethered to the world they knew by doorway that still remained open.

“Where’s Buffy?” Sam asked as Dean led him across the floor.

“Tearing Michael a new one,” Dean answered promptly however, he was now craning his neck left and right to see where she was. It didn’t take him long to find her because she was in the middle of the kill floor, battling it out with Michael.  He could only afford to watch her for a second but that second was plenty. When Dean had seen her pummelling Angelus earlier, he knew she could fight but seeing her go toe to toe with Michael was something else to behold. She looked preternatural, a force to be reckoned with that left in silent awe.

She’d somehow lost her grip on the mace but wasn’t not suffering from the lack of it. She jabbed Michael in the face, causing his head to snap back sharply. Before he had a chance to recover, Buffy threw a flying front kick, once again catching him on his ruined face, driving the angel backwards.  She followed it with a series of left to right punches, giving him no chance to recoup.

“Come on, we got to get you out of here,” Dean said turning his attention back to the task at hand; getting Sam to safety. Once that was done, he could give Buffy the all clear so she would follow them.

“Why Dean? We’re finally together again.” A familiar voice said behind them and Dean’s hair stood on end because he knew exactly who it was before Sam said it out loud.

“Lucifer.”

TO BE CONTINUED