FIC: Deception - BtVS/SPN
Title: Deception
Author: azraelz_angel aka Demona
Status: Complete
Rating: FR13
Pairing(s): brief mention of Buffy/Dean - sort of…
Summary: He should have known that Hell wouldn’t have let him go easily.
Challenge: September 2008 Challenge @ buffyxdean Prompt #1:
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon & Mutant Enemy. Supernatural and all related characters are copyright of Eric Kripke and Kripke Enterprises. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: This was written back at the end of August. Keep that in mind, since it doesn't particularly follow Supernatural Season 4 canon.
The First had a sense of humor. Dean would give him…her…it that. Logically, Dean knew that he was in Hell. Real was what the demons and devils made it - made you believe.
The First Evil chose wisely, chose a form that was beautiful, small and lithe, and innocent looking. The petite blonde form tortured him relentlessly. Demons could mess with your mind. He should have realized it was a trap, one of the oldest tricks in the book. Hell wouldn’t let him have friends, wouldn’t allow him another tortured soul to befriend. But he was tired and broken and he just wanted to believe. He should have known.
She always let out this breathy little sigh as Dean sunk into her. She’d whisper in his ear, urge him to move, to just do it already, harder, faster, more - always more. And Dean complied. Her hair never smelled like brimstone and hellfire as he buried his face in her neck, instead it smelled like honeysuckle and an early spring morning breeze. He should have known that it wasn’t right, because it was too perfect. He should have known when he realized he was falling for her. Hell didn’t allow for love.
The realization changed everything. The next time he saw her, she smiled as she sunk her hand into his chest and pulled out his heart. It was the beginning of the end. The torture would get much, much worse. Those beautiful lips that he loved to kiss, loved to gently drag his fingertips over, should never have been stained with his blood, as she licked her delicate fingers clean. He knew then that he was truly in Hell, should have remembered all along. He’d never seen a demon quite as evil as the blonde bitch. And he’d kill her when he finally got the chance. It was the only thought that kept him sane.
It took him weeks to finally believe Sam when he told him he was free. Dean was convinced it was just another nightmare, another way for his blonde tormentor to break him. He should have known that Hell wouldn’t have let him go easily.
Sam swore the compound was safe. They had helped Sam bring Dean back. But Dean didn’t feel at ease. The looks from the girls had him fidgeting, always wanting to look over his shoulder.
When he saw her, she was chatting with Sam, and Dean’s skin immediately began to crawl. His vision turned red and a little hazy around the edges when she looked in his direction, offered him a tiny, hesitate, innocent looking smile before she hugged Sam. He should have known she’d make her appearance at some point. Remind him that he’d never escape her, never escape Hell.
It was easy, almost too easy, to kill her. The bullets tore through her body, one after another, until his clip was empty, and still he pulled the trigger. The shock, genuine surprise, was beautiful because she sold it so well. Blood blossomed up around all the bullet holes, bubbled up and out of her perfect lips. Dimly he heard shouts around him and couldn’t understand why they sounded truly upset and concerned.
Her body crumpled to the tile floor, her eyes held his until the light faded completely. He watched, along with Sam and the others, as an incorporeal version rose up from the blonde’s dead form. She was an identical copy complete with the bullet holes. But it was the eyes Dean recognized with a sick realization, eyes that the girl lying dead didn’t have.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Dean. I knew you had it in you. Knew it was a gamble that would pay off. You name just became legendary in the Pit. I wish you could hear them chanting. Win-ches-ter! Win-ches-ter!”
Dean didn’t understand. Who was she?
The blonde smiled and her hair blew in an imaginary honeysuckle-scented breeze.
“I guess I never managed to introduce myself, did I? I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.”
Author: azraelz_angel aka Demona
Status: Complete
Rating: FR13
Pairing(s): brief mention of Buffy/Dean - sort of…
Summary: He should have known that Hell wouldn’t have let him go easily.
Challenge: September 2008 Challenge @ buffyxdean Prompt #1:
- [x] Prompt #1
Character(s): Buffy, Dean, The First
Timeline: Season 3 (All Seasons of Buffy)
Specific Episode: No Rest for the Wicked
Prompts: Hell dimensions are a bitch.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon & Mutant Enemy. Supernatural and all related characters are copyright of Eric Kripke and Kripke Enterprises. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: This was written back at the end of August. Keep that in mind, since it doesn't particularly follow Supernatural Season 4 canon.
The First had a sense of humor. Dean would give him…her…it that. Logically, Dean knew that he was in Hell. Real was what the demons and devils made it - made you believe.
The First Evil chose wisely, chose a form that was beautiful, small and lithe, and innocent looking. The petite blonde form tortured him relentlessly. Demons could mess with your mind. He should have realized it was a trap, one of the oldest tricks in the book. Hell wouldn’t let him have friends, wouldn’t allow him another tortured soul to befriend. But he was tired and broken and he just wanted to believe. He should have known.
She always let out this breathy little sigh as Dean sunk into her. She’d whisper in his ear, urge him to move, to just do it already, harder, faster, more - always more. And Dean complied. Her hair never smelled like brimstone and hellfire as he buried his face in her neck, instead it smelled like honeysuckle and an early spring morning breeze. He should have known that it wasn’t right, because it was too perfect. He should have known when he realized he was falling for her. Hell didn’t allow for love.
The realization changed everything. The next time he saw her, she smiled as she sunk her hand into his chest and pulled out his heart. It was the beginning of the end. The torture would get much, much worse. Those beautiful lips that he loved to kiss, loved to gently drag his fingertips over, should never have been stained with his blood, as she licked her delicate fingers clean. He knew then that he was truly in Hell, should have remembered all along. He’d never seen a demon quite as evil as the blonde bitch. And he’d kill her when he finally got the chance. It was the only thought that kept him sane.
It took him weeks to finally believe Sam when he told him he was free. Dean was convinced it was just another nightmare, another way for his blonde tormentor to break him. He should have known that Hell wouldn’t have let him go easily.
Sam swore the compound was safe. They had helped Sam bring Dean back. But Dean didn’t feel at ease. The looks from the girls had him fidgeting, always wanting to look over his shoulder.
When he saw her, she was chatting with Sam, and Dean’s skin immediately began to crawl. His vision turned red and a little hazy around the edges when she looked in his direction, offered him a tiny, hesitate, innocent looking smile before she hugged Sam. He should have known she’d make her appearance at some point. Remind him that he’d never escape her, never escape Hell.
It was easy, almost too easy, to kill her. The bullets tore through her body, one after another, until his clip was empty, and still he pulled the trigger. The shock, genuine surprise, was beautiful because she sold it so well. Blood blossomed up around all the bullet holes, bubbled up and out of her perfect lips. Dimly he heard shouts around him and couldn’t understand why they sounded truly upset and concerned.
Her body crumpled to the tile floor, her eyes held his until the light faded completely. He watched, along with Sam and the others, as an incorporeal version rose up from the blonde’s dead form. She was an identical copy complete with the bullet holes. But it was the eyes Dean recognized with a sick realization, eyes that the girl lying dead didn’t have.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Dean. I knew you had it in you. Knew it was a gamble that would pay off. You name just became legendary in the Pit. I wish you could hear them chanting. Win-ches-ter! Win-ches-ter!”
Dean didn’t understand. Who was she?
The blonde smiled and her hair blew in an imaginary honeysuckle-scented breeze.
“I guess I never managed to introduce myself, did I? I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.”