Fic: It's In Our Blood - (Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam) Chapter Two
Title: It's In Our Blood
Author(s): angelbuffy
Artist: Skylar0Grace
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy is the property of Joss Whedon, Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. If those two wrote together it'd be a beautiful thing. But they haven't, so you have me.
Type: (Gen, Het, or Slash) Het
Word Count: 34,934
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam
Warnings: Sex. Violence. Language. All the awesome stuff.
Spoilers: None. Unless you haven't seen Buffy. Or Supernatural. Season six exempt.
Chapter 2:
The room was clean, gray paint covering the cement walls. The fluorescent lights were flickering on and off. He’d guessed they hadn’t been changed in years. The lack of use was causing them to strain from the sudden constant use. All of that, he’d expected. What he wasn’t expecting was the petite blonde woman leaning against the cell wall, hands still cuffed behind her back.
She was tiny.
She couldn’t have been more than 5’4, her figure slim, but with noticeable curves. Her hair was long, cascading past her shoulders. When she looked up at him, her green eyes were almost piercing through him. She looked ragged, and her clothes were wrinkled. He saw past all that to see an extremely gorgeous woman. She had the perfect curves and her hair even messy was full and clearly natural. She stared at him with those eyes. They were intense, and bored. She looked annoyed, but she looked harmless. He turned around for a second, looking at the door that he’d just come through wondering if the officer was delusional. He opened the manila folder to reveal her picture with a name next to it.
Buffy Summers.
This was the girl. He almost felt like laughing, but instead cleared his throat with a smirk. Damn. He was already looking forward to the conversation with his brother about this chick. Seems he was lucky to draw the long straw again.
“Buffy Summers.” He pulled up a chair, the sound of metal screaming against hard concrete. When he sat down, he leaned his back against the support and loosened his tie. The interview was already making him hot, and all he said was two words. He didn’t care if she was insane, he was still a man. Any man would react to her the same way.
She just laughed, and turned her head away from him. He took the moment as relief from her piercing emerald gaze gave him a chance to breathe normally.
“I’ll take that as a yes, and go to hell. I’m agent…Page. Got a few questions if you don’t mind,” He tossed the folder on the table and leaned his elbows on his knees. Unprofessional, but for some reason, he didn’t see this woman as rightfully giving a damn how he sat. “about the murder and your association with the scene.”
“You’re wasting your time.” She turned back around, facing him, those eyes giving him the once over, burning a hole straight through him. Buffy’s face was flawless, not a single mark aside from the traces of makeup that had lingered on her face for a few days. She didn’t look like she put up much of a fight against the cops at all. It made him curious as all hell how she was considered dangerous, aside from her piercing gaze.
“That’s what the officer with the shiner said before I walked in here.”
She smiled, clearly reminiscing how he got it in the first place. “Yeah, well to be fair, he had fair warning that was coming. It’s not my fault he paid more attention to his gun than my words.” She shrugged, with that prideful smile painted all over her face. That smile just made her shine even more.
He realized that the clothes she had on were at least two sizes too large - telling him that the county probably supplied them and that her curves were probably more pronounced than he’d originally thought. When he’d skimmed the file before coming to the jail (thanks to Sammy and his hacking skills) he’d read that she was soaked along with the victim on a dry and cold night.
Her comment had Dean elevating a brow and smiling a bit wider. Professionalism be damned, she was kind of funny.
“It’s true. He didn’t really want to step foot in here.”
“Ah, give him a little credit. The other ones won’t even come near the door.”
There were other ones? He knew what he’d be dreaming about the next time he got some sleep. The mysterious sexy ass kicker. He chuckled and nodded, impressed.
She in turn, indicated at his attire, giving him another evaluation. “FBI?”
“Good guess.”
“You seem too young to be the commanding officer, or whatever that label is. If this is your make it or break it deal, I’m sorry to disappoint.” She didn’t look sorry at all.
“Sweetheart, thanks for the compliment, but I’m just interested in the truth, here. Whatever that might be.”
“Good for you. But you’re still wasting your time,” She didn’t move an inch, but her body language spoke miles. It was confident and unwavering. At that moment, he believed that she could take out the entire police squad. He didn’t have a damn clue how, but he saw possibility.
“Believe me when I say you’re way over your head, no pun intended, and please off the record.”
He raised a brow. “Fair enough. Wanna explain why?”
“Not really.”
“Alright,” He said as he picked up her folder and tried to skim over the first few files to look like it was something that he’d not seen before.
“So, where are you from?”
“You’re the one holding the papers. What does it say?”
“Cleveland, Ohio.”
“You get a gold star.”
This seemed like the weirdest interview he’d ever done. She had the same animosity toward cops that he did. It was like he was interviewing himself.
“…And you’re in this town, why? Seems all this crap started happening after you arrived.”
“I’m on an extended vacation.”
“In this town? Come on. A gal like you looks like she’d fit in somewhere a little more west with a few more people and a few more bars.”
“Profiling, much? Isn’t that illegal? I like mountains. Didn’t you talk to anyone out there?”
“Sure, they said you claimed you didn’t kill three people and possibly five more. They also said you’re insane and possibly hyped up on some sort of adrenaline drug.”
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit in these cuffs and contemplate the meaning of life… or whatever arrested people are supposed to do,” she crossed her legs and closed her eyes, leaning against the cement wall, creating her own wall right in front of Dean.
“So let’s just say I believe you, then.” He wasn’t done talking to her, especially not after that last remark. Not to mention the fact that her nature in itself compelled him to drill her even more. She opened one of her eyes and scoffed, letting her head hit the cement wall in defeat. She sighed, and relinquished about a centimeter. It was enough.
“Okay,” She said, pulling herself off the wall, glaring. “First of all, I’ll say it again. I didn’t do this. Second of all, I don’t have a magic bucket that fills with water whenever I want to drown someone. I also am not fond of being soaking wet in the cold with a t-shirt on. Got it? No cold showers, no magic bucket that disappears in the middle of nowhere when the cops come around. Lastly, if you guys had any sense you’d see that this has happened before. In 1930 something or other, which would make me look like a goddess in my old age. I’ll be the scapegoat for a few more hours, and then I’m done. I’m sick of looking at that stupid file you idiots like to throw on the table. Yeah, I’ve got a record. Apparently I’ve got a major authority problem. I guess. Whatever. My advice? Page, or.. whatever your name is, get out of town. People are dying, and you’re one of the few cops I can actually stand. Yes, I’m insane, yes, it’s a wonder I’m not in a mental hospital, it was an adrenaline rush that got me to take out five cops, and I can pull that really cool trick that Mel Gibson’s character in Lethal Weapon can do with the whole dislocation of the shoulder thing. Which is why I won’t be here when you come back. Blah, Blah, Blah.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, trying to blink back the sudden onslaught of information. He did something that his father would most definitely have given him hell for, too.
“You a hunter?” He wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t about eighty percent sure of it. He instantly regretted his words as she laughed. He’d been wrong before. Lucky no one else was around to hear his indirect confession.
“Maybe you should be the one in an institution. Newsflash, buddy. I hate guns. That’s got to be somewhere in my file. What the heck does animal poaching-” Timing was terrible as his phone started vibrating in his pocket, giving her pause. He kept his suspicions on her as she smiled at him sarcastically and watched him answer his phone. It was Sam.
“Are you secure?” They had to make sure their cover wouldn’t be blown.
“Yeah, whaddya got?”
”Dude, there wasn’t anything at either scene, but I went to the library, and this is definitely our kind of case.”
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that idea.”
”Get this - it’s happened before, 1933. There were exactly eight victims. It wasn’t in this town though. It was in another one off the coast of North Carolina. 1953 had eight drowning victims in Nebraska. You should see some of this stuff. I’m coming to get you; Bobby called, and it seems they’re checking up on you. I think you’ve been there too long already.”
“I’ve got some interesting news, myself.” He turned his eyes back at Buffy who had given up her sarcasm for interest. It didn’t stop her from getting the first word out.
“Good chat, and I really wouldn’t mind if you accidentally dropped that manila folder somewhere that’s got a ton of fire. Also, seriously. Take my advice. You can’t help here. Tell your partner I’m just crazy or something.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. I’ll be back.”
“I won’t be here.”
She had to be a hunter. He picked up the file that he’d laid on the table, and glanced at Buffy who had closed herself off from him before walking out the door.
Onward to: Chapter Three!
Backward to: Chapter One!
Author(s): angelbuffy
Artist: Skylar0Grace
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy is the property of Joss Whedon, Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. If those two wrote together it'd be a beautiful thing. But they haven't, so you have me.
Type: (Gen, Het, or Slash) Het
Word Count: 34,934
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Dean, Faith/Sam
Warnings: Sex. Violence. Language. All the awesome stuff.
Spoilers: None. Unless you haven't seen Buffy. Or Supernatural. Season six exempt.
Chapter 2:
The room was clean, gray paint covering the cement walls. The fluorescent lights were flickering on and off. He’d guessed they hadn’t been changed in years. The lack of use was causing them to strain from the sudden constant use. All of that, he’d expected. What he wasn’t expecting was the petite blonde woman leaning against the cell wall, hands still cuffed behind her back.
She was tiny.
She couldn’t have been more than 5’4, her figure slim, but with noticeable curves. Her hair was long, cascading past her shoulders. When she looked up at him, her green eyes were almost piercing through him. She looked ragged, and her clothes were wrinkled. He saw past all that to see an extremely gorgeous woman. She had the perfect curves and her hair even messy was full and clearly natural. She stared at him with those eyes. They were intense, and bored. She looked annoyed, but she looked harmless. He turned around for a second, looking at the door that he’d just come through wondering if the officer was delusional. He opened the manila folder to reveal her picture with a name next to it.
Buffy Summers.
This was the girl. He almost felt like laughing, but instead cleared his throat with a smirk. Damn. He was already looking forward to the conversation with his brother about this chick. Seems he was lucky to draw the long straw again.
“Buffy Summers.” He pulled up a chair, the sound of metal screaming against hard concrete. When he sat down, he leaned his back against the support and loosened his tie. The interview was already making him hot, and all he said was two words. He didn’t care if she was insane, he was still a man. Any man would react to her the same way.
She just laughed, and turned her head away from him. He took the moment as relief from her piercing emerald gaze gave him a chance to breathe normally.
“I’ll take that as a yes, and go to hell. I’m agent…Page. Got a few questions if you don’t mind,” He tossed the folder on the table and leaned his elbows on his knees. Unprofessional, but for some reason, he didn’t see this woman as rightfully giving a damn how he sat. “about the murder and your association with the scene.”
“You’re wasting your time.” She turned back around, facing him, those eyes giving him the once over, burning a hole straight through him. Buffy’s face was flawless, not a single mark aside from the traces of makeup that had lingered on her face for a few days. She didn’t look like she put up much of a fight against the cops at all. It made him curious as all hell how she was considered dangerous, aside from her piercing gaze.
“That’s what the officer with the shiner said before I walked in here.”
She smiled, clearly reminiscing how he got it in the first place. “Yeah, well to be fair, he had fair warning that was coming. It’s not my fault he paid more attention to his gun than my words.” She shrugged, with that prideful smile painted all over her face. That smile just made her shine even more.
He realized that the clothes she had on were at least two sizes too large - telling him that the county probably supplied them and that her curves were probably more pronounced than he’d originally thought. When he’d skimmed the file before coming to the jail (thanks to Sammy and his hacking skills) he’d read that she was soaked along with the victim on a dry and cold night.
Her comment had Dean elevating a brow and smiling a bit wider. Professionalism be damned, she was kind of funny.
“It’s true. He didn’t really want to step foot in here.”
“Ah, give him a little credit. The other ones won’t even come near the door.”
There were other ones? He knew what he’d be dreaming about the next time he got some sleep. The mysterious sexy ass kicker. He chuckled and nodded, impressed.
She in turn, indicated at his attire, giving him another evaluation. “FBI?”
“Good guess.”
“You seem too young to be the commanding officer, or whatever that label is. If this is your make it or break it deal, I’m sorry to disappoint.” She didn’t look sorry at all.
“Sweetheart, thanks for the compliment, but I’m just interested in the truth, here. Whatever that might be.”
“Good for you. But you’re still wasting your time,” She didn’t move an inch, but her body language spoke miles. It was confident and unwavering. At that moment, he believed that she could take out the entire police squad. He didn’t have a damn clue how, but he saw possibility.
“Believe me when I say you’re way over your head, no pun intended, and please off the record.”
He raised a brow. “Fair enough. Wanna explain why?”
“Not really.”
“Alright,” He said as he picked up her folder and tried to skim over the first few files to look like it was something that he’d not seen before.
“So, where are you from?”
“You’re the one holding the papers. What does it say?”
“Cleveland, Ohio.”
“You get a gold star.”
This seemed like the weirdest interview he’d ever done. She had the same animosity toward cops that he did. It was like he was interviewing himself.
“…And you’re in this town, why? Seems all this crap started happening after you arrived.”
“I’m on an extended vacation.”
“In this town? Come on. A gal like you looks like she’d fit in somewhere a little more west with a few more people and a few more bars.”
“Profiling, much? Isn’t that illegal? I like mountains. Didn’t you talk to anyone out there?”
“Sure, they said you claimed you didn’t kill three people and possibly five more. They also said you’re insane and possibly hyped up on some sort of adrenaline drug.”
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit in these cuffs and contemplate the meaning of life… or whatever arrested people are supposed to do,” she crossed her legs and closed her eyes, leaning against the cement wall, creating her own wall right in front of Dean.
“So let’s just say I believe you, then.” He wasn’t done talking to her, especially not after that last remark. Not to mention the fact that her nature in itself compelled him to drill her even more. She opened one of her eyes and scoffed, letting her head hit the cement wall in defeat. She sighed, and relinquished about a centimeter. It was enough.
“Okay,” She said, pulling herself off the wall, glaring. “First of all, I’ll say it again. I didn’t do this. Second of all, I don’t have a magic bucket that fills with water whenever I want to drown someone. I also am not fond of being soaking wet in the cold with a t-shirt on. Got it? No cold showers, no magic bucket that disappears in the middle of nowhere when the cops come around. Lastly, if you guys had any sense you’d see that this has happened before. In 1930 something or other, which would make me look like a goddess in my old age. I’ll be the scapegoat for a few more hours, and then I’m done. I’m sick of looking at that stupid file you idiots like to throw on the table. Yeah, I’ve got a record. Apparently I’ve got a major authority problem. I guess. Whatever. My advice? Page, or.. whatever your name is, get out of town. People are dying, and you’re one of the few cops I can actually stand. Yes, I’m insane, yes, it’s a wonder I’m not in a mental hospital, it was an adrenaline rush that got me to take out five cops, and I can pull that really cool trick that Mel Gibson’s character in Lethal Weapon can do with the whole dislocation of the shoulder thing. Which is why I won’t be here when you come back. Blah, Blah, Blah.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, trying to blink back the sudden onslaught of information. He did something that his father would most definitely have given him hell for, too.
“You a hunter?” He wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t about eighty percent sure of it. He instantly regretted his words as she laughed. He’d been wrong before. Lucky no one else was around to hear his indirect confession.
“Maybe you should be the one in an institution. Newsflash, buddy. I hate guns. That’s got to be somewhere in my file. What the heck does animal poaching-” Timing was terrible as his phone started vibrating in his pocket, giving her pause. He kept his suspicions on her as she smiled at him sarcastically and watched him answer his phone. It was Sam.
“Are you secure?” They had to make sure their cover wouldn’t be blown.
“Yeah, whaddya got?”
”Dude, there wasn’t anything at either scene, but I went to the library, and this is definitely our kind of case.”
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that idea.”
”Get this - it’s happened before, 1933. There were exactly eight victims. It wasn’t in this town though. It was in another one off the coast of North Carolina. 1953 had eight drowning victims in Nebraska. You should see some of this stuff. I’m coming to get you; Bobby called, and it seems they’re checking up on you. I think you’ve been there too long already.”
“I’ve got some interesting news, myself.” He turned his eyes back at Buffy who had given up her sarcasm for interest. It didn’t stop her from getting the first word out.
“Good chat, and I really wouldn’t mind if you accidentally dropped that manila folder somewhere that’s got a ton of fire. Also, seriously. Take my advice. You can’t help here. Tell your partner I’m just crazy or something.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. I’ll be back.”
“I won’t be here.”
She had to be a hunter. He picked up the file that he’d laid on the table, and glanced at Buffy who had closed herself off from him before walking out the door.
Onward to: Chapter Three!
Backward to: Chapter One!