Living at a Pace That Kills: Chapter Eight - Buffy/Dean Fanfiction
Title: Living at a Pace That Kills: Chapter Eight
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None so far
Warnings: Violence and language
Genre: Thriller
Summary: Buffy’s life after the fall of Sunnydale takes a tragic turn, turning her to a hunter.
Disclaimer: The only real major difference in the Buffy story is how things ended up after the last episode of the series. It doesn’t follow the comics. All characters and storylines from Buffy and Supernatural belong to their original creators, not me.
SEE THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
It was nearly three in the morning when I reached the motel, pulling him in alongside me like a limp rag. A limp, protesting rag. His brother was still awake, which didn’t surprise me. The three of us ran late hours, ones that only those of the graveyard shifts would find normal.
“What happened?” Sam asked, his square face a complete blank.
“I broke your brother,” I said, placing him on the bed as gently as humanly possible.
It wasn’t enough. I could tell by the awful sound that echoed from his larynx when his back touched the mattress. I was feeling worse as the minutes moved on.
“I didn’t mean to. It just kind of…happened.”
The taller of the two looked at me sympathetically, something I hadn’t expected, as if he had seen it coming.
“Slayer strength?”
“What?” I asked, completely flabbergasted. The question almost left me to forget about the other man lying injured on the bed.
“I’ve looked into you a little more.”
“What, is there a fucking site about Slayers now?”
As much as I wished that was a joke, it wouldn’t surprise me. With things the way they were in that current day in age, all it would take was for some potential to hop onto a social network in an out of character mode to get the Slayer lineage known.
“Um, no,” he said, haphazardly, “not quite. I was reading some of the books in your bag…”
He seemed so out of place and upset by my outburst. It was almost sad. The look in his eyes made me feel terrible.
“Sorry for jumping all over you. I’m just a little, I don’t know, upset right now…”
“About Dean?”
“Well, there’s that. And a lot more.”
“Hey, I hate to break up your little conversation, but my damn ribs are split over here,” Dean groaned, visibly upset.
“Do you have anything for him?” I asked Sam, feeling incredibly upset about harming someone who had done nothing to me but offer kindness.
“Sure, I do.”
I watched him venture across the room to the little area made to look like a kitchen. He reached into the small cupboard and pulled out a bottle. When I could read it clearly, I was shocked.
“Jack Daniels?”
“Do you have anything better?”
I stared blankly at him.
“Vicodin? Codeine?”
My mind was even the blanker. I couldn’t contemplate what was going on.
“Okay, Jack will do.”
With wide eyes, I watched him move quickly, nursing his older brother back to health in one of the most back alley ways imaginable. While Dean proceeded to guzzle down gulps of whiskey, Sam snapped his ribs back in the proper places. The breaking of bone was one of the most sickening sounds I had ever heard. I watched sadly as he bandaged his ribs, something that made me wince just watching. Not knowing how else I could help, I sat beside Dean, allowing him to grip my hand at any possible moment. He had squeezed down desperately more times than he clearly cared for, but the only pain I felt was that which told me I had put him there. Staring into his eyes as he cringed back at me was my penance. I felt I had been entirely renounced.
~
“You don’t need to feel so bad about this, Blondie.”
“Would you quit calling me that?”
I was sitting at the foot of the bed. He was still lying in it, just as he had been for the past several days. For the short time that I had known him, I knew he wasn’t one to keep off of his feet. He considered it a weakness, like he wasn’t contributing. When Sam was gone, it was worse. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he should be out, looking for the thing that was killing all those people. I hated it. Hurting people was something I never wanted to do. Unfortunately, it just happened now and then. I wished for Willow. She could take away his pain.
Sam had disappeared for the day. He was on the hunt for clues while his brother was incapacitated. It had been agreed upon that he was clearly better at the research than either of us and I was plenty capable of taking care of Dean in his absence. I was beginning to wonder if that was a good or bad thing.
“Why not, Blondie? You’re blonde,” he said with an adorable smile.
I tried as hard as possible not to claim that he was indeed attractive, but it was true. No matter how hard I tried to push his aggressive manner and sometimes terrible wording in front of those looks, it didn’t matter. Those thoughts forced me to smile back at him.
“See? You like it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What do you expect from me? And when I say that, I mean, really.”
He sat up, something I hadn’t seen since I had thrown him to the ground.
“God, didn’t that hurt?”
He nodded, not wanting to speak more than necessary. I motioned to help him to his feet, but he shook his head, indicating that he wanted to stay put. I wished that I could do more to help, but I remained in place.
“Buffy,” he said, grimacing through the words, “I just want you to be you.”
“You act like you know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
He raised his eyebrows at me and then sheepishly looked aside.
“I know more than you think.”
“Like what?”
I really didn’t expect him to say anything that would matter. He didn’t seem the type to exert much more than mere guesswork.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you used to live in Los Angeles only to move to a little town in California called Sunnydale? There, you found a Hellmouth and were assigned to essentially care to it regardless of what you cared about. Not only that, but you saved the world from certain destruction roughly six or seven times from the likes of a god named Glory and even your close witch friend. Not to mention just about anything else one could imagine. When the Hellmouth finally caved in on itself, you thought you were safe and could finally lead a somewhat normal life. The only problem was that the demons didn’t care what you thought. They kept coming and they came for you and your kind. The horrible thing killed them off, but it didn’t kill you. Does that sound about right?”
Astonished wasn’t the right word for what I felt when I looked at him. Maybe violated was a better term. At such an interval, I couldn't be certain. I simply didn’t know what to say.
“Buffy?”
“How-“
“I’ve had some time to do some research in those books you have. I can’t just lie here all day and do nothing. Besides, that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you be who you really are. From what I know about you, I know that you don’t stand down. You fight. “
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. His words were tearing my heart open. It was like listening to one of my loved ones pulled back from graves I would never be able to visit.
“I just…I can’t do it…”
My throat closed tightly, locking in tears that I hoped wouldn’t pass through my eyes. I looked away suddenly, not wanting him to see me.
“You’re one of the few people that can. Hell, I’m not even sure Sam and I can do this, so you may be the only one that can do it.
Doing my best to grin, I turned back to him.
“Want to watch some TV?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
The look in his eyes told me that he knew how I felt and he conveniently nodded. I flicked the set on, rapidly skipping through the channels. As depressing as it was, I stopped at the news.
“…as the city continues to leave in fear, the police have done nothing to diminish the wave of strange murders overtaking our town…”
“Oh, for God’s sake…” I muttered, knowing already that the story was about the thing we were looking for.
“What?” Dean asked, suddenly lurching forward and screaming in pain.
I was on him then, shoving him back against the pillows.
“You have to stay calm, do you understand me? You’re going to rip yourself apart otherwise.”
The gritting of his teeth was all I needed to hear to tell me that the point had gotten across. He had been in sheer agony for almost a week. I wondered how much longer I would have to deal with the guilt of knowing I had put him in such a position. As he settled back slowly, I shushed him as nicely as possible.
“Have you taken any of those painkillers Sam was able to get for you?”
As much as I speculated where he had been able to round up a number of different prescription pills, I found it best not to ask.
“Not in while…”
The sound of his voice told me that the while he was speaking of most likely had been lengthy. Men could be so stubborn at times, especially when they were at a weakened state like he was. I couldn’t understand that, as much as I despised being physically debilitated. I wasn’t about to bother him about it though. Instead, I snatched the little orange bottle of pills from the side table.
“Take two of these.”
“You can’t know that’s the right dosage.”
I stared at him blankly.
“You do remember that your brother used Jack Daniels to numb you up before performing what I can only consider to be a very primitive method? I think taking two of these pills is the least of your problems.”
He swiped the bottle from me without another word and swallowed the pills dry. I looked back to the TV and listened as the newscasters droned on about things they knew little about.
“…the death toll has increased with the murders of a woman her two small children…”
“Oh, God, it’s going after kids now?”
I felt disgusted.
“We have to do something. I can’t stay laid up in this bed anymore with all of this happening.”
“You’re not going anywhere right now, so don’t move,” I said, reacting before he could move.
He noticed my sudden guard in his direction and although it caused his brow to furrow in what I could only guess to be annoyance, he remained still.
“Thank you. I feel bad enough.”
I turned back to the broadcast just in time to see the father of the children sobbing at the camera. From what I gathered, he had been at work when his family had been killed. My stomach turned, recognizing his pain.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None so far
Warnings: Violence and language
Genre: Thriller
Summary: Buffy’s life after the fall of Sunnydale takes a tragic turn, turning her to a hunter.
Disclaimer: The only real major difference in the Buffy story is how things ended up after the last episode of the series. It doesn’t follow the comics. All characters and storylines from Buffy and Supernatural belong to their original creators, not me.
SEE THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
It was nearly three in the morning when I reached the motel, pulling him in alongside me like a limp rag. A limp, protesting rag. His brother was still awake, which didn’t surprise me. The three of us ran late hours, ones that only those of the graveyard shifts would find normal.
“What happened?” Sam asked, his square face a complete blank.
“I broke your brother,” I said, placing him on the bed as gently as humanly possible.
It wasn’t enough. I could tell by the awful sound that echoed from his larynx when his back touched the mattress. I was feeling worse as the minutes moved on.
“I didn’t mean to. It just kind of…happened.”
The taller of the two looked at me sympathetically, something I hadn’t expected, as if he had seen it coming.
“Slayer strength?”
“What?” I asked, completely flabbergasted. The question almost left me to forget about the other man lying injured on the bed.
“I’ve looked into you a little more.”
“What, is there a fucking site about Slayers now?”
As much as I wished that was a joke, it wouldn’t surprise me. With things the way they were in that current day in age, all it would take was for some potential to hop onto a social network in an out of character mode to get the Slayer lineage known.
“Um, no,” he said, haphazardly, “not quite. I was reading some of the books in your bag…”
He seemed so out of place and upset by my outburst. It was almost sad. The look in his eyes made me feel terrible.
“Sorry for jumping all over you. I’m just a little, I don’t know, upset right now…”
“About Dean?”
“Well, there’s that. And a lot more.”
“Hey, I hate to break up your little conversation, but my damn ribs are split over here,” Dean groaned, visibly upset.
“Do you have anything for him?” I asked Sam, feeling incredibly upset about harming someone who had done nothing to me but offer kindness.
“Sure, I do.”
I watched him venture across the room to the little area made to look like a kitchen. He reached into the small cupboard and pulled out a bottle. When I could read it clearly, I was shocked.
“Jack Daniels?”
“Do you have anything better?”
I stared blankly at him.
“Vicodin? Codeine?”
My mind was even the blanker. I couldn’t contemplate what was going on.
“Okay, Jack will do.”
With wide eyes, I watched him move quickly, nursing his older brother back to health in one of the most back alley ways imaginable. While Dean proceeded to guzzle down gulps of whiskey, Sam snapped his ribs back in the proper places. The breaking of bone was one of the most sickening sounds I had ever heard. I watched sadly as he bandaged his ribs, something that made me wince just watching. Not knowing how else I could help, I sat beside Dean, allowing him to grip my hand at any possible moment. He had squeezed down desperately more times than he clearly cared for, but the only pain I felt was that which told me I had put him there. Staring into his eyes as he cringed back at me was my penance. I felt I had been entirely renounced.
~
“You don’t need to feel so bad about this, Blondie.”
“Would you quit calling me that?”
I was sitting at the foot of the bed. He was still lying in it, just as he had been for the past several days. For the short time that I had known him, I knew he wasn’t one to keep off of his feet. He considered it a weakness, like he wasn’t contributing. When Sam was gone, it was worse. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he should be out, looking for the thing that was killing all those people. I hated it. Hurting people was something I never wanted to do. Unfortunately, it just happened now and then. I wished for Willow. She could take away his pain.
Sam had disappeared for the day. He was on the hunt for clues while his brother was incapacitated. It had been agreed upon that he was clearly better at the research than either of us and I was plenty capable of taking care of Dean in his absence. I was beginning to wonder if that was a good or bad thing.
“Why not, Blondie? You’re blonde,” he said with an adorable smile.
I tried as hard as possible not to claim that he was indeed attractive, but it was true. No matter how hard I tried to push his aggressive manner and sometimes terrible wording in front of those looks, it didn’t matter. Those thoughts forced me to smile back at him.
“See? You like it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What do you expect from me? And when I say that, I mean, really.”
He sat up, something I hadn’t seen since I had thrown him to the ground.
“God, didn’t that hurt?”
He nodded, not wanting to speak more than necessary. I motioned to help him to his feet, but he shook his head, indicating that he wanted to stay put. I wished that I could do more to help, but I remained in place.
“Buffy,” he said, grimacing through the words, “I just want you to be you.”
“You act like you know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
He raised his eyebrows at me and then sheepishly looked aside.
“I know more than you think.”
“Like what?”
I really didn’t expect him to say anything that would matter. He didn’t seem the type to exert much more than mere guesswork.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you used to live in Los Angeles only to move to a little town in California called Sunnydale? There, you found a Hellmouth and were assigned to essentially care to it regardless of what you cared about. Not only that, but you saved the world from certain destruction roughly six or seven times from the likes of a god named Glory and even your close witch friend. Not to mention just about anything else one could imagine. When the Hellmouth finally caved in on itself, you thought you were safe and could finally lead a somewhat normal life. The only problem was that the demons didn’t care what you thought. They kept coming and they came for you and your kind. The horrible thing killed them off, but it didn’t kill you. Does that sound about right?”
Astonished wasn’t the right word for what I felt when I looked at him. Maybe violated was a better term. At such an interval, I couldn't be certain. I simply didn’t know what to say.
“Buffy?”
“How-“
“I’ve had some time to do some research in those books you have. I can’t just lie here all day and do nothing. Besides, that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you be who you really are. From what I know about you, I know that you don’t stand down. You fight. “
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. His words were tearing my heart open. It was like listening to one of my loved ones pulled back from graves I would never be able to visit.
“I just…I can’t do it…”
My throat closed tightly, locking in tears that I hoped wouldn’t pass through my eyes. I looked away suddenly, not wanting him to see me.
“You’re one of the few people that can. Hell, I’m not even sure Sam and I can do this, so you may be the only one that can do it.
Doing my best to grin, I turned back to him.
“Want to watch some TV?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
The look in his eyes told me that he knew how I felt and he conveniently nodded. I flicked the set on, rapidly skipping through the channels. As depressing as it was, I stopped at the news.
“…as the city continues to leave in fear, the police have done nothing to diminish the wave of strange murders overtaking our town…”
“Oh, for God’s sake…” I muttered, knowing already that the story was about the thing we were looking for.
“What?” Dean asked, suddenly lurching forward and screaming in pain.
I was on him then, shoving him back against the pillows.
“You have to stay calm, do you understand me? You’re going to rip yourself apart otherwise.”
The gritting of his teeth was all I needed to hear to tell me that the point had gotten across. He had been in sheer agony for almost a week. I wondered how much longer I would have to deal with the guilt of knowing I had put him in such a position. As he settled back slowly, I shushed him as nicely as possible.
“Have you taken any of those painkillers Sam was able to get for you?”
As much as I speculated where he had been able to round up a number of different prescription pills, I found it best not to ask.
“Not in while…”
The sound of his voice told me that the while he was speaking of most likely had been lengthy. Men could be so stubborn at times, especially when they were at a weakened state like he was. I couldn’t understand that, as much as I despised being physically debilitated. I wasn’t about to bother him about it though. Instead, I snatched the little orange bottle of pills from the side table.
“Take two of these.”
“You can’t know that’s the right dosage.”
I stared at him blankly.
“You do remember that your brother used Jack Daniels to numb you up before performing what I can only consider to be a very primitive method? I think taking two of these pills is the least of your problems.”
He swiped the bottle from me without another word and swallowed the pills dry. I looked back to the TV and listened as the newscasters droned on about things they knew little about.
“…the death toll has increased with the murders of a woman her two small children…”
“Oh, God, it’s going after kids now?”
I felt disgusted.
“We have to do something. I can’t stay laid up in this bed anymore with all of this happening.”
“You’re not going anywhere right now, so don’t move,” I said, reacting before he could move.
He noticed my sudden guard in his direction and although it caused his brow to furrow in what I could only guess to be annoyance, he remained still.
“Thank you. I feel bad enough.”
I turned back to the broadcast just in time to see the father of the children sobbing at the camera. From what I gathered, he had been at work when his family had been killed. My stomach turned, recognizing his pain.