Fic: Making It Better (Buffy/Dean) PG-13
Title: Making It Better
Prompt: 051 - Come Clean by Hilary Duff
Word Count: 1,613
Rating: PG-13
Warning/Spoilers: Through the beginning of Buffy, season 6.
Summary: It's the first time since Willow's spell that they've seen each other.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. They belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke.
She hadn’t felt anything but numb since the night she’d felt as if she was being torn apart only to open her eyes to nothing but darkness. She shivered as she recalled the feeling of struggling through the dirt, of trying not to panic when it clogged her nostrils, choking her.
The sound of water hitting the glass distracted her from her thoughts and she turned to stare out the window. A few more drops and then it was as if someone had opened the floodgates. She glanced back at the door, hesitating, before opening the window and crawling onto the roof.
It only took moments for the water to soak through her clothes but she didn’t notice as she slid to the edge and looked down before jumping. She felt her feet sink into the grass from the impact and then she was running, running as fast as she could, hoping to outrun the black that’d been inside her since she’d come back.
It didn’t surprise her when she found herself staring down at her own grave. It was almost as if something drew her here and she studied the inscription as if hoping it would give her the answers she needed.
Buffy Anne Summers
1981 - 2001
Beloved Sister
Devoted Friend
She saved the world.
A lot.
Her breath started coming faster and she dropped to her knees as she continued to stare at the inscription.
The rain ran down her face, mixing in with tears she hadn’t realized she was crying until the first sob escaped. She bit her lip, lifting a hand to her mouth and knew that that wouldn’t ever be enough to stop her from feeling so lost.
The feel of arms wrapping around her had her stiffening and clenching her fist, ready to swing out.
“It’s me,” was all Dean said, his voice low as he pulled her back against him. Immediately, she relaxed, letting out a breath as she closed her eyes and turned to wrap her arms around his waist.
It was the first time they’d seen each other since the battle with Glory and she could only be grateful that he didn’t ask questions that she couldn’t answer, that he wasn’t pulling away and looking at her as if expecting her to smile and tell him everything was okay.
For a moment, she stood there, not saying anything. She knew by the tense way he held himself that he was staring at her grave as she’d been only a few minutes ago.
“You got here fast.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” They stood there, arms around each other, until his arms tightened and he pulled back to look at her. “When?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “A couple days ago.” Her eyes moved away from his, looking over his shoulder. “I called as soon as...there was a spirit or something. It came back with me, I guess. I think they said it was a hitchhiker. If it could kill me, it could stay. Willow made it solid so that I could fight it.” She said all this in one breath, noting the way he got more tense with each word she spoke.
“Buffy?”
“I almost let it.” She looked in his eyes and saw the emotions he fought not to show. “It kept telling me that I didn’t belong here and for a moment I thought it would be so easy to just let it win. Then it’d all be over again and I wouldn’t have to worry about any of it anymore.” She sucked in a breath. “I couldn’t do that though. I couldn’t let it win, I couldn’t just leave everyone behind again, no matter how tempting it was.”
Dean studied her and knew that that wasn’t all. There was something else that was eating at her.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Buffy.”
She bit her lip and looked down, her breath coming faster. “It hurts,” she said, voice so low that he almost couldn’t hear her. “It hurts being back.”
He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. There was more, he knew there was more but he also knew that pushing wouldn’t help anything.
They stood there, neither saying anything for a few moments before she let out a breath.
“They think I was in hell.”
Dean froze, too many emotions going through him at once. Disbelief that they could ever let that thought cross their minds when she’d sacrificed herself to save them all. Anger that they’d just make that assumption, that they would dare do something like this. Happiness that she was here in his arms again and shame that he could feel even the slightest bit happy when she was so obviously in pain.
“Buffy-“
“I was happy. I was warm, Dean, and loved and I knew that everyone I cared about was going to be okay and that I didn’t need to worry.” She paused, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I was with my mom. I was...I think I was in heaven.”
Her words slammed into him in a way that reminded him of the way it had felt to have the huge fist of a demon slam into his stomach.
Heaven. He’d never really believed in that type of afterlife. That had always been more Sam’s thing. But he couldn’t deny that he’d thought about it after the battle with Glory and that the idea had given him some form of comfort. Having it confirmed though was something else altogether and now he didn’t know what to feel.
“I was at peace and now I’m not. Because of my friends. Everything here is hard and bright and violent. This is hell.” She paused. “They can never know, Dean. I can’t tell them.”
He pulled back. “You’re protecting them? Even now, you’re protecting them?” he asked. Now he let anger and shock take over. “Why?”
Even as she looked up at him, he knew what she would say. “Because of what it would do to them. They thought they were helping me. I can’t just take that away.”
“But they can take total peace from you and go around patting themselves on the back for a job well done? To hell with that, Buffy. Aren’t you angry?”
She shoved herself back, pulling herself out of his arms. “Stop it.”
“You just told me you were in heaven, Buffy. You were with your mom and you were happy. They took that away from you and you’re not even a little angry?” He took a step towards her. “There’s not even the smallest part of you that wants them to know what they’ve done to you?”
“Of course I’m angry,” she burst out. “It’s the only thing I can feel sometimes. I’m empty, Dean, I feel so damn empty most of the time and other times I’m so damn angry at them because they keep looking at me and expecting it to be like before. I see the way they look at me like they’re wondering why I’m not all smiles, why I’m not more grateful and a part of me wants to tell them! A part of me wants them to know, to see the look on their faces when they find out because then maybe they’d realize what the hell they’ve done.” She wiped a hand over her face. “They act like nothing could have gone wrong like there wasn’t any chance that it would have been something else that came back instead of me.”
That stopped him as he thought of what she was saying. “What?”
“Maybe Xander didn’t know. He mostly stays away from magic since high school but Willow? Willow knows magic. She would have known. But I heard them earlier talking to Spike. He said there was a chance I’d come back as something else.” She let out a breath. "It wasn’t like when Dawn tried to bring Mom back. This spell was bigger.” Off his look, she turned towards her grave. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out, right? The spell worked. I’m back, not a zombie, just me.”
He studied her and then looked at her grave. He stared at her tombstone and he felt the urge to break it. And he knew if the urge was strong in him, it had to be overwhelming in her.
“Break it.”
“What?” She glanced at him. “Break it?”
“I’ve seen you twist a shotgun into a pretzel. So don’t try telling me that you can’t break this.” He gestured towards it. “So do it. Get rid of it.” He watched as she turned and stared at it for a few moments. Then she kicked out, her foot connecting and causing the stone to crack. He nodded, knowing that it might help with her anger.
Dean stepped back and watched as she kicked and shoved at the stone, breath sobbing out each time she connected. Finally she stopped and stumbled back, the wounds on her hands bleeding again. Only then did he touch her. She shuddered and turned so that she could wrap her arms around him.
“Better?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Not really. But maybe it will be.”
They stared at the pieces of stone for a few more moments, ignoring how soaked they were getting before Dean stepped back and turned her towards the exit of the cemetery, an arm around her shoulders.
“Come on. I got some new weapons you can check out. And after that, we’ll get coffee or something.”
She wrapped an arm around his waist. “I could do that.”
Prompt: 051 - Come Clean by Hilary Duff
Word Count: 1,613
Rating: PG-13
Warning/Spoilers: Through the beginning of Buffy, season 6.
Summary: It's the first time since Willow's spell that they've seen each other.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. They belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke.
She hadn’t felt anything but numb since the night she’d felt as if she was being torn apart only to open her eyes to nothing but darkness. She shivered as she recalled the feeling of struggling through the dirt, of trying not to panic when it clogged her nostrils, choking her.
The sound of water hitting the glass distracted her from her thoughts and she turned to stare out the window. A few more drops and then it was as if someone had opened the floodgates. She glanced back at the door, hesitating, before opening the window and crawling onto the roof.
It only took moments for the water to soak through her clothes but she didn’t notice as she slid to the edge and looked down before jumping. She felt her feet sink into the grass from the impact and then she was running, running as fast as she could, hoping to outrun the black that’d been inside her since she’d come back.
It didn’t surprise her when she found herself staring down at her own grave. It was almost as if something drew her here and she studied the inscription as if hoping it would give her the answers she needed.
Buffy Anne Summers
1981 - 2001
Beloved Sister
Devoted Friend
She saved the world.
A lot.
Her breath started coming faster and she dropped to her knees as she continued to stare at the inscription.
The rain ran down her face, mixing in with tears she hadn’t realized she was crying until the first sob escaped. She bit her lip, lifting a hand to her mouth and knew that that wouldn’t ever be enough to stop her from feeling so lost.
The feel of arms wrapping around her had her stiffening and clenching her fist, ready to swing out.
“It’s me,” was all Dean said, his voice low as he pulled her back against him. Immediately, she relaxed, letting out a breath as she closed her eyes and turned to wrap her arms around his waist.
It was the first time they’d seen each other since the battle with Glory and she could only be grateful that he didn’t ask questions that she couldn’t answer, that he wasn’t pulling away and looking at her as if expecting her to smile and tell him everything was okay.
For a moment, she stood there, not saying anything. She knew by the tense way he held himself that he was staring at her grave as she’d been only a few minutes ago.
“You got here fast.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” They stood there, arms around each other, until his arms tightened and he pulled back to look at her. “When?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “A couple days ago.” Her eyes moved away from his, looking over his shoulder. “I called as soon as...there was a spirit or something. It came back with me, I guess. I think they said it was a hitchhiker. If it could kill me, it could stay. Willow made it solid so that I could fight it.” She said all this in one breath, noting the way he got more tense with each word she spoke.
“Buffy?”
“I almost let it.” She looked in his eyes and saw the emotions he fought not to show. “It kept telling me that I didn’t belong here and for a moment I thought it would be so easy to just let it win. Then it’d all be over again and I wouldn’t have to worry about any of it anymore.” She sucked in a breath. “I couldn’t do that though. I couldn’t let it win, I couldn’t just leave everyone behind again, no matter how tempting it was.”
Dean studied her and knew that that wasn’t all. There was something else that was eating at her.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Buffy.”
She bit her lip and looked down, her breath coming faster. “It hurts,” she said, voice so low that he almost couldn’t hear her. “It hurts being back.”
He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. There was more, he knew there was more but he also knew that pushing wouldn’t help anything.
They stood there, neither saying anything for a few moments before she let out a breath.
“They think I was in hell.”
Dean froze, too many emotions going through him at once. Disbelief that they could ever let that thought cross their minds when she’d sacrificed herself to save them all. Anger that they’d just make that assumption, that they would dare do something like this. Happiness that she was here in his arms again and shame that he could feel even the slightest bit happy when she was so obviously in pain.
“Buffy-“
“I was happy. I was warm, Dean, and loved and I knew that everyone I cared about was going to be okay and that I didn’t need to worry.” She paused, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I was with my mom. I was...I think I was in heaven.”
Her words slammed into him in a way that reminded him of the way it had felt to have the huge fist of a demon slam into his stomach.
Heaven. He’d never really believed in that type of afterlife. That had always been more Sam’s thing. But he couldn’t deny that he’d thought about it after the battle with Glory and that the idea had given him some form of comfort. Having it confirmed though was something else altogether and now he didn’t know what to feel.
“I was at peace and now I’m not. Because of my friends. Everything here is hard and bright and violent. This is hell.” She paused. “They can never know, Dean. I can’t tell them.”
He pulled back. “You’re protecting them? Even now, you’re protecting them?” he asked. Now he let anger and shock take over. “Why?”
Even as she looked up at him, he knew what she would say. “Because of what it would do to them. They thought they were helping me. I can’t just take that away.”
“But they can take total peace from you and go around patting themselves on the back for a job well done? To hell with that, Buffy. Aren’t you angry?”
She shoved herself back, pulling herself out of his arms. “Stop it.”
“You just told me you were in heaven, Buffy. You were with your mom and you were happy. They took that away from you and you’re not even a little angry?” He took a step towards her. “There’s not even the smallest part of you that wants them to know what they’ve done to you?”
“Of course I’m angry,” she burst out. “It’s the only thing I can feel sometimes. I’m empty, Dean, I feel so damn empty most of the time and other times I’m so damn angry at them because they keep looking at me and expecting it to be like before. I see the way they look at me like they’re wondering why I’m not all smiles, why I’m not more grateful and a part of me wants to tell them! A part of me wants them to know, to see the look on their faces when they find out because then maybe they’d realize what the hell they’ve done.” She wiped a hand over her face. “They act like nothing could have gone wrong like there wasn’t any chance that it would have been something else that came back instead of me.”
That stopped him as he thought of what she was saying. “What?”
“Maybe Xander didn’t know. He mostly stays away from magic since high school but Willow? Willow knows magic. She would have known. But I heard them earlier talking to Spike. He said there was a chance I’d come back as something else.” She let out a breath. "It wasn’t like when Dawn tried to bring Mom back. This spell was bigger.” Off his look, she turned towards her grave. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out, right? The spell worked. I’m back, not a zombie, just me.”
He studied her and then looked at her grave. He stared at her tombstone and he felt the urge to break it. And he knew if the urge was strong in him, it had to be overwhelming in her.
“Break it.”
“What?” She glanced at him. “Break it?”
“I’ve seen you twist a shotgun into a pretzel. So don’t try telling me that you can’t break this.” He gestured towards it. “So do it. Get rid of it.” He watched as she turned and stared at it for a few moments. Then she kicked out, her foot connecting and causing the stone to crack. He nodded, knowing that it might help with her anger.
Dean stepped back and watched as she kicked and shoved at the stone, breath sobbing out each time she connected. Finally she stopped and stumbled back, the wounds on her hands bleeding again. Only then did he touch her. She shuddered and turned so that she could wrap her arms around him.
“Better?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Not really. But maybe it will be.”
They stared at the pieces of stone for a few more moments, ignoring how soaked they were getting before Dean stepped back and turned her towards the exit of the cemetery, an arm around her shoulders.
“Come on. I got some new weapons you can check out. And after that, we’ll get coffee or something.”
She wrapped an arm around his waist. “I could do that.”