Of all the stupid, dumbass things she'd heard Dean Winchester do - and there'd been a lot as far as she was concerned - there was none so bad as this.
He should've known - known his brother enough, at least, to think that he'd look for a way out of this.
Of course Dean hadn't. Had brought him back anyway and now he was on the receiving end of one of Buffy's fists--He thought she was hitting him 'cause he'd called her Precious?!
"You're a goddamn idiot," she snapped at him, letting herself be pulled away by Sam. Truth be told, Dean deserved another smack in the mouth for his comment alone but she thought she might kill him this time. Seriously. "Were you incredibly high when you made that deal?"
Dean pushed himself from the door, rubbing his chin one last time before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto his bed. "I don't have to explain myself to you, sweetheart," he said, taking a wide berth around her and Sam to make it to his own bed. He sat down, pulling off his boots as he spoke. "I did what had to be done, alright?"
Cause he couldn't do this without Sam. No way in hell.
Sam exhaled slowly, but not saying anything. He'd had this talk enough times with Dean the past few days to know it was pointless. Dean could only see the present, see that Sam was alive and they were still together as a family, a team.
Buffy glared at him, "What had to be done? You brought him back and killed yourself in the process, Dean. Forget the fact that, y'know, this is Sam... And once you die
( ... )
He and Buffy had always had an interesting relationship. Sam was the buffer between them, he was the one thing they had in common that kept them from killing each other half the time. Of all the people, he would think she would understand his need to bring Sam back. Hell, she was the one in love with his baby brother, even if she didn't want to admit it
( ... )
"I came to help," Buffy told him, jaw still clenched. He was the most stubborn asshole she'd ever had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on the day) to meet. And she'd met some stubborn assholes in her time. "And stop calling me Precious." Because as much as she hadn't punched him for that? She'd be willing to do it again.
She glanced at Sam, the weariness in his voice, and bit back the I told you so she wanted to toss at Dean. That probably wasn't the thing that would help here.
"He called me a couple of days ago," she shrugged, letting the fight go, for now. "I came as soon as I could. Not that he called to tell me Sam was back or anything. He just said Cold Oak, South Dakota, End of the World as I Know It Again and--Here I am." She smiled slightly, suddenly remembering what Sam had said earlier. "I remembered the code. First motel in the Yellow Pages, Jim Rockford. You guys never change..."
"Least you got a good memory on you," Dean smirked at her. He looked over at Sam. "We really need to change that code."
Sam shrugged, shifting on his feet. "The code was your idea to begin with."
He pondered on that as he grabbed the TV remote, turning on the TV just over Sam's shoulder. "Good point."
Sam frowned, and he didn't know what bothered him more, the arguments about his return from the dead or the attempts at normal conversation to ignore the fact that he had returned from the dead.
"I need a drink," he said, running a hand through his hair. He turned to Buffy with a hopeful smile. "You up for it?"
"Got more than that on me," Buffy retorted, but she watered it down with a tense smile. She was angry at him - mega-angry - angry at his attempts at a brush off because it was, officially, Awkward To Talk About.
Dean didn't do awkward - hadn't the full time she'd known him and it wasn't like he was about to start now.
She glanced at Sam, a little surprised that it was his suggestion they go for a drink and not Dean's. "Sure. I could use a drink." Or ten. Anything to get Sam out of the room so they could talk properly. Or help him drown his post-Death sorrows. She remembered that only too well. She smiled tentatively at him, "Wanna accompany me to the check in desk? The guy was kind of an asshole and I'm--" What, liable to pop him in the jaw too? "--I may need restraining again."
Dean raised an eyebrow as Sam suggested going out for a drink. Sam didn't drink. Well, he did, but he was one of those drinkers who had a beer or two and called it a night. He knocked back a few with Dean sometimes after a long hunt, but for the most part, he never went looking to drink. Hell, he had even raided the minibar in the room last night, but he had figured that it had been because of their argument.
"Since when do you drink?" he asked.
Sam picked up his jacket from the foot of his bed before taking gentle hold of Buffy's wrist. "Apparently since I was reborn," he said simply as he led Buffy out of the room.
He didn't want to be so harsh with Dean, but he was tired. Too tired to care right now.
Once they were alone outside the motel room, he slipped his jacket on and sighed deeply. "Sorry about Dean."
Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was apologizing. It just seemed like the thing to do.
"You don't have to apologize to me, Sam," she told him, hoisting her backpack up on her shoulder again, "It wasn't like it was gonna go any different once I'd found out
( ... )
He chuckled quietly under his breath as she mentioned punching Dean. "You'll hear no argument here," he mused.
They walked to the front desk where Buffy got a room, the guy behind the counter obviously toning down the creep factor seeing Sam. She tossed her things in her room for the night, and they headed out towards the bar he had seen on their way to the motel the other night.
He looked over at her as she questioned the drinking, and he knew it wasn't like him, but he needed something to quiet the nagging thoughts in his head. "Yeah, I just need something," he admitted. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Wait, kitten poker?"
"Kitten poker," she nodded, ignoring the pang as she thought of Spike again, "They were playing to eat the kittens, Sam. Eat them!" Buffy remembered being kind of outraged at that - trying to free the kittens in order to, y'know, stop that from happening. "At least, I think that's what they were trying to do with them, I was kind of wasted
( ... )
"Buffy, I think I'm disturbed by the idea of kitten poker," he said, making a face and torn between being completely weirded out and laughing. "I can definitely promise you none of that tonight."
He held the door to the bar open for her, sounds of loud country music greeting him. Great. Country music. How appropriate.
"I don't remember much," he admitted as they found a booth off to the side. "Just blinding pain and then just...nothing. I think I got gypped on the whole white light thing." He frowned a bit as he continued. "I kinda remember just....feeling at peace, I guess. And I know that sounds stupid, but that's the only way I can think to describe it."
A waitress decked out as a sexy cowgirl made her way over to their table with a smile. "What can I get you two, darlin?" she asked Sam.
"Beer for me, and whatever she wants," he said, nodding towards Buffy.
"What ya need, sweetie?" she smiled at Buffy. "We got a full stocked bar just waiting to be used."
Buffy stared at him for a moment, shaking her head. It didn't sound stupid at all but before she had time to even start thinking of something appropriate she could say to him, the waitress showed up, boasting a full stocked bar
( ... )
Sam chuckled as she ordered a bottle of tequila. "I'm gonna end up carrying your ass back to the motel," he teased. She grinned back as they fell into a comfortable silence.
Honestly, he didn't expect her to have some magical speech that would suddenly make things right. He knew that was asking for a miracle, but it was enough that she was sitting here with him now, letting him talk about things he could never say to Dean or Bobby.
He squeezed her hand back, "That's enough for me," he said.
The waitress returned with their beers and tequila (with limes), smiling at their clasped hands. "So can I ask what you two lovebirds are celebratin' tonight? Cause there's only two reasons for people to share a bottle of tequila--either they're looking to drown some sorrows or share some joy, and you two don't exactly look somber."Sam smirked a bit at that. It wasn't anything new for them to be confused as a couple, and usually they set people straight, but tonight, he didn't really care to correct her. So he just went with it. "Just
( ... )
Lovebirds? Buffy raised an eyebrow when the waitress said that, not altogether surprised she'd jumped to that conclusion when they were sitting there holding hands.
She smiled politely, went to correct her, and blinked at Sam when he said they were celebrating his return home.
Okay, they kind of were. But they weren't a couple and usually they corrected people. Still, it got their first drinks on the house, so Buffy wasn't complaining too much.
She grinned at him, pouring him his first glass of tequila. "Here. We'll drink to your turn at being sneaky," she teased. Usually it was Dean who tried to bag free drinks - only he had a different tack of hitting on the waitress.
She knocked back her own glass and shuddered. "That may be the most digusting thing ever..."
He grinned at her as she poured them two shots. "Hey, it got us free drinks," he shrugged, his grin still wide. "We can correct the next bar."
For the first time in 48 hours, sitting here joking with Buffy like they were hanging out on campus at Stanford, he was starting to feel right again.
He took down his shot pretty easy and chuckled at the face Buffy made as she drank her own. "Weren't you the one who decided to go the tequila route?" he teased.
He should've known - known his brother enough, at least, to think that he'd look for a way out of this.
Of course Dean hadn't. Had brought him back anyway and now he was on the receiving end of one of Buffy's fists--He thought she was hitting him 'cause he'd called her Precious?!
"You're a goddamn idiot," she snapped at him, letting herself be pulled away by Sam. Truth be told, Dean deserved another smack in the mouth for his comment alone but she thought she might kill him this time. Seriously. "Were you incredibly high when you made that deal?"
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Cause he couldn't do this without Sam. No way in hell.
Sam exhaled slowly, but not saying anything. He'd had this talk enough times with Dean the past few days to know it was pointless. Dean could only see the present, see that Sam was alive and they were still together as a family, a team.
But all Sam could see was the future. Alone.
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She glanced at Sam, the weariness in his voice, and bit back the I told you so she wanted to toss at Dean. That probably wasn't the thing that would help here.
"He called me a couple of days ago," she shrugged, letting the fight go, for now. "I came as soon as I could. Not that he called to tell me Sam was back or anything. He just said Cold Oak, South Dakota, End of the World as I Know It Again and--Here I am." She smiled slightly, suddenly remembering what Sam had said earlier. "I remembered the code. First motel in the Yellow Pages, Jim Rockford. You guys never change..."
Which was kind of comforting, actually.
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Sam shrugged, shifting on his feet. "The code was your idea to begin with."
He pondered on that as he grabbed the TV remote, turning on the TV just over Sam's shoulder. "Good point."
Sam frowned, and he didn't know what bothered him more, the arguments about his return from the dead or the attempts at normal conversation to ignore the fact that he had returned from the dead.
"I need a drink," he said, running a hand through his hair. He turned to Buffy with a hopeful smile. "You up for it?"
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Dean didn't do awkward - hadn't the full time she'd known him and it wasn't like he was about to start now.
She glanced at Sam, a little surprised that it was his suggestion they go for a drink and not Dean's. "Sure. I could use a drink." Or ten. Anything to get Sam out of the room so they could talk properly. Or help him drown his post-Death sorrows. She remembered that only too well. She smiled tentatively at him, "Wanna accompany me to the check in desk? The guy was kind of an asshole and I'm--" What, liable to pop him in the jaw too? "--I may need restraining again."
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"Since when do you drink?" he asked.
Sam picked up his jacket from the foot of his bed before taking gentle hold of Buffy's wrist. "Apparently since I was reborn," he said simply as he led Buffy out of the room.
He didn't want to be so harsh with Dean, but he was tired. Too tired to care right now.
Once they were alone outside the motel room, he slipped his jacket on and sighed deeply. "Sorry about Dean."
Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was apologizing. It just seemed like the thing to do.
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They walked to the front desk where Buffy got a room, the guy behind the counter obviously toning down the creep factor seeing Sam. She tossed her things in her room for the night, and they headed out towards the bar he had seen on their way to the motel the other night.
He looked over at her as she questioned the drinking, and he knew it wasn't like him, but he needed something to quiet the nagging thoughts in his head. "Yeah, I just need something," he admitted. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Wait, kitten poker?"
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He held the door to the bar open for her, sounds of loud country music greeting him. Great. Country music. How appropriate.
"I don't remember much," he admitted as they found a booth off to the side. "Just blinding pain and then just...nothing. I think I got gypped on the whole white light thing." He frowned a bit as he continued. "I kinda remember just....feeling at peace, I guess. And I know that sounds stupid, but that's the only way I can think to describe it."
A waitress decked out as a sexy cowgirl made her way over to their table with a smile. "What can I get you two, darlin?" she asked Sam.
"Beer for me, and whatever she wants," he said, nodding towards Buffy.
"What ya need, sweetie?" she smiled at Buffy. "We got a full stocked bar just waiting to be used."
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Honestly, he didn't expect her to have some magical speech that would suddenly make things right. He knew that was asking for a miracle, but it was enough that she was sitting here with him now, letting him talk about things he could never say to Dean or Bobby.
He squeezed her hand back, "That's enough for me," he said.
The waitress returned with their beers and tequila (with limes), smiling at their clasped hands. "So can I ask what you two lovebirds are celebratin' tonight? Cause there's only two reasons for people to share a bottle of tequila--either they're looking to drown some sorrows or share some joy, and you two don't exactly look somber."Sam smirked a bit at that. It wasn't anything new for them to be confused as a couple, and usually they set people straight, but tonight, he didn't really care to correct her. So he just went with it. "Just ( ... )
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She smiled politely, went to correct her, and blinked at Sam when he said they were celebrating his return home.
Okay, they kind of were. But they weren't a couple and usually they corrected people. Still, it got their first drinks on the house, so Buffy wasn't complaining too much.
She grinned at him, pouring him his first glass of tequila. "Here. We'll drink to your turn at being sneaky," she teased. Usually it was Dean who tried to bag free drinks - only he had a different tack of hitting on the waitress.
She knocked back her own glass and shuddered. "That may be the most digusting thing ever..."
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For the first time in 48 hours, sitting here joking with Buffy like they were hanging out on campus at Stanford, he was starting to feel right again.
He took down his shot pretty easy and chuckled at the face Buffy made as she drank her own. "Weren't you the one who decided to go the tequila route?" he teased.
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