She'd been about ready to give up and book herself into the nearest room, leave a message with the leering guy on the desk for Bobby to call her when he came back when the door opened.
She'd expected Bobby. Maybe Dean. Maybe a vastly wrong version of either one because whatever Buffy felt it had to be a thousand times worse for them...
Sam was gone.
She'd been trying to wrap her head around that on the plane on the way over. Trying to gear herself up for a fight she wanted no part of now - she'd done her bit, she'd saved the World again...
And so many people had died. Not her, this time. But people she knew - people she loved. Spike, Anya, Sam... Frowning, Buffy knocked again. Once more and she was totally gone... When the door opened to reveal a half-naked Sam standing looking back at her.
He could only imagine what was going through her mind right now. He's sure Bobby or Dean called her after he died, and more than likely neither man had wanted to have the conversation with her about him being back.
So as far as she had known, he was supposed to be dead.
"I see you remembered the code," he teased gently.
He'd be lucky right now if she didn't try to stake him to make sure he was actuallyhim.
First rule of Slayage? Don't die. A rule Buffy had, to date, broke twice.
Second rule of Slayage? Don't leave the weapons in the backpack. You never knew when you might need one, like, now for instance.
"Code? What are you-- What?" No, this was wrong. It had to be. Because Bobby wouldn't just call her and tell her Sam was dead and just neglect to call her back when he'd been--What, brought back?
Willow had told her. No more spells, nothing. Once you were dead now, you stayed dead, she'd promised and--This was wrong and she knew, hell, she could write the book on it.
"Bobby called. He told me everything. So whatever it is you are in there, you can just--Leave. Now. 'Cause don't think I won't put you down just 'cause you're wearing my friends' face..."
Okay, she'd keep quiet the fact that her weapons were stuck in her backpack right now.
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
( ... )
"Next bar?" Buffy grinned, "You mean, if we can walk after all the Tequila?" Dean, she knew, would be pretty worried at that. Sam, as a rule, wasn't a heavy drinker. Had never been at Stanford, which had been a blessing, really, because when Buffy had indulged in the fun beer-fest and been changed into Cave-Slayer? It'd been Sam who'd saved her from the blazing inferno on campus.
Stupid Parker.
Strangely, Buffy was okay with this - even though she was drinking Tequila, something she'd sworn she'd never do in her natural life again. Sam looked more relaxed than she'd seen him in years and if this was what it took to get him to shake loose a little? So be it.
"Hey, I'm doing this for you, Buster," she pointed out, laughing. "A friend in need and all... Why did we not do this more often?" Which, loosely translated? Meant that she'd missed him. A whole hell of a lot.
"I'll be able to walk," he smiled. "You may have some problems though, lightweight."
Not that he really planned to go bar-hopping tonight. One bar would do--especially if it got him hammered enough to just pass out tonight cause good sleep had yet to come to him again.
"Which part of this do you mean?" he asked, pouring two more shots. "The this that involves me getting you drunk or the this that involves us being in the same zipcode for more than ten minutes?"
Buffy pouted, "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" Her beer had been totally possessed and yet Sam had got it into his head that she absolutely could not hold her liquor.
Of course, she couldn't... But it was always nice to have a fall-back, sort of, and since her tolerance for the stuff had lowered dramatically since her Cave-Slayer days she was totally willing to blame that.
"Us being in the same zipcode for more than ten minutes," she told him, taking her shot and making yet another face, "I know why I wouldn't let you get me drunk more often."
She blinked as she realized what she'd said, tried to cover it over quickly. They did not need to be bringing up that last time they were drunk together where they'd almost--Nope. "I mean... Not that I... Beer?" She held out his bottle to him, shaking her head slightly. Great, Buffy, open mouth - insert foot. "Beer good," she nodded, "Foamy..."
And something for her mouth to do when sheer death-defying embarassment took over.
He knew she could hold her liquor better when it wasn't special beer, but he couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease her relentlessly. Especially when he didn't get to do it enough lately
( ... )
He really hadn't expected her to jump at his offer at a paranormal-killing roadtrip. She had the chance to be that normal girl now, and he couldn't blame her for wanting to take it. Hell, they'd each talked about it one time or another--what it would be like to be someone normal-- so it made sense that when the opportunity finally happened, she'd want to take the chance.
Didn't mean he wasn't disappointed.
"Yeah," he laughed, pulling at the label on his beer bottle, "you and Dean in a car together could prove more dangerous than anything we hunt." He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice as he continued, "You got a lot on your plate now. I don't blame you for finally snagging your chance at normal."
Buffy stared at him for a moment, watching him wage a war inside that didn't have him admit to being disappointed 'cause he thought she didn't wanna go. She could read him like a book sometimes.
"Normal? You're kidding, right? I just gave a bunch of girls supernatural-strength. Dawn is demanding to become a Watcher-in-Training while sitting her SAT's, Giles wants us to start looking for the new Slayers pretty much now and I'm--" she shot a look at him, "--kind of at a loss for something to do, actually. I came down here to put some serious hurt on that demon and instead I find you. Are you getting normal in any of this?" She grinned.
And suddenly, it seemed right. Giles would be miffed, of course, but he'd get over it - Sam was right about that. "What would you say if I told you I was thinking of taking you up on your offer?"
Okay, when she broke it down like that....yeah, normal didn't seem like the right word anymore.
"Maybe I jumped the gun on calling that normal," he laughed as he finished off his beer.
And then she had a change of heart, and he wondered for a moment if he was already drunk and mishearing things. But when he looked up from his peeled beer bottle she was fixing him with a familiar smile. He used to call it her "procrastination grin", the one she would use to convince him that there were better things to do than study for their upcoming Chemistry test.
"I would say... I would say I have a credit card that can easily get you a wardrobe that's less stripper ready," he grinned.
He was skipping way ahead of her on the drinking thing but that was okay, Buffy could deal with that, provided she didn't have to carry him back to the room - not only was the guy tall, but he was all limbs, too.
"Yeah, jumping the gun could be the word," she grinned.
When he looked at her like that, it made it right. Despite any misgivings Giles would have--Buffy was needed. Not just for the Slayer, she had no doubts whatsoever about their abilities on this fight--But for her.
Maybe in the best friend capacity, maybe not - she'd see with that one.
"Then I'd say I think I love you," Buffy smiled, "and when can we shop?"
Sam laughed under his breath as she asked if he was drunk already. Though he wasn't exactly at the stumble over his own feet state of drunk yet, he could definitely feel his body relaxing in his seat that would prove horrible if he needed to pass a finger-to-the-nose sobriety test.
"No, not drunk. Still holding my own against you, lightweight," he teased. He looked up, smile fading a bit as she mentioned them saving each other. Honestly, he had always thought it was Buffy who saved him, not the other way around. She had seemed so natural in her own skin--playing both normal girl and Slayer, but now, tonight, he finally realized that she had felt as alone as him in their world.
"If I was your normal, we obviously had issues," he said with a faint smile, taking another long drink from his beer.
And then she asked the question that he had forced himself to stop thinking about months ago. The ultimate of the "what ifs" that haunted him about the choices he had made in his life.
You ever wonder what would have happened if I'd
( ... )
They'd had issues alright, both of them. Buffy with her residual ones from Angel and making the scary step of leaving the Hellmouth to go to college, Sam with the one's from breaking away from the fight with Dean and his Dad.
She hadn't been in-line for making a friend-slash-potential-boyfriend thing but--Sam had just kind of happened. And before Buffy had known where she was, she'd found someone she trusted completely. And she didn't do that easy.
"Yeah, well, we're both freaks," she told him with a resigned smile. Both freaks together and totally something she could live with. Totally something she'd liked living with until the call home
( ... )
To say that Sam was relieved was an understatement. He was glad that he hadn't been the only one haunted by the "what ifs" of their relationship this whole time.
"That's not sad," he said with a small shake of his head. It was hopeful. She'd still had hope, and he had given up on his, trying and failing at moving on to another girl, another life.
"I'm gonna...I'm gonna probably regret telling you this cause it makes me a complete asshole but..." He took another drink, trying to find courage at the bottom of his bottle. "I loved Jessica. More than anything, but I... I would have hurt her in the longrun. Because, just...no matter how much I loved her, no matter how much I could have tried, she just...."
He swallowed hard, not sure how she would respond to the words that were tumbling out of his mouth. "She wasn't you."
And there it was. That ball of guilt he'd kept hidden in the pit of his stomach after Jess' death, that he had unwittingly made Jess his Buffy substitute.
She was pretty sure that was sad and suspected Sam was just being nice by saying otherwise. Who admitted, potential ability to blame it on the alcohol or not, that you thought about a life you could've had all the time?
That even when you were happy - and she'd admit there'd been a lot more of that in the previous year than she'd had that year before - there was still something kind of... Missing.
It had been simple with Sam. Simple and kind of easy and okay, they'd been living the Mother of all Double Lives but even when that had come out it'd been okay and she'd realized that maybe love didn't have a whole armful of angst attached onto it all the time.
She blinked at him, wondering what he could possibly regret telling her when he himself knew everything about her and then some and--Then, he told her
( ... )
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She'd expected Bobby. Maybe Dean. Maybe a vastly wrong version of either one because whatever Buffy felt it had to be a thousand times worse for them...
Sam was gone.
She'd been trying to wrap her head around that on the plane on the way over. Trying to gear herself up for a fight she wanted no part of now - she'd done her bit, she'd saved the World again...
And so many people had died. Not her, this time. But people she knew - people she loved. Spike, Anya, Sam... Frowning, Buffy knocked again. Once more and she was totally gone... When the door opened to reveal a half-naked Sam standing looking back at her.
Buffy's mouth fell open. "Sam? I... Sam?"
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So as far as she had known, he was supposed to be dead.
"I see you remembered the code," he teased gently.
He'd be lucky right now if she didn't try to stake him to make sure he was actuallyhim.
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Second rule of Slayage? Don't leave the weapons in the backpack. You never knew when you might need one, like, now for instance.
"Code? What are you-- What?" No, this was wrong. It had to be. Because Bobby wouldn't just call her and tell her Sam was dead and just neglect to call her back when he'd been--What, brought back?
Willow had told her. No more spells, nothing. Once you were dead now, you stayed dead, she'd promised and--This was wrong and she knew, hell, she could write the book on it.
"Bobby called. He told me everything. So whatever it is you are in there, you can just--Leave. Now. 'Cause don't think I won't put you down just 'cause you're wearing my friends' face..."
Okay, she'd keep quiet the fact that her weapons were stuck in her backpack right now.
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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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Stupid Parker.
Strangely, Buffy was okay with this - even though she was drinking Tequila, something she'd sworn she'd never do in her natural life again. Sam looked more relaxed than she'd seen him in years and if this was what it took to get him to shake loose a little? So be it.
"Hey, I'm doing this for you, Buster," she pointed out, laughing. "A friend in need and all... Why did we not do this more often?" Which, loosely translated? Meant that she'd missed him. A whole hell of a lot.
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Not that he really planned to go bar-hopping tonight. One bar would do--especially if it got him hammered enough to just pass out tonight cause good sleep had yet to come to him again.
"Which part of this do you mean?" he asked, pouring two more shots. "The this that involves me getting you drunk or the this that involves us being in the same zipcode for more than ten minutes?"
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Of course, she couldn't... But it was always nice to have a fall-back, sort of, and since her tolerance for the stuff had lowered dramatically since her Cave-Slayer days she was totally willing to blame that.
"Us being in the same zipcode for more than ten minutes," she told him, taking her shot and making yet another face, "I know why I wouldn't let you get me drunk more often."
She blinked as she realized what she'd said, tried to cover it over quickly. They did not need to be bringing up that last time they were drunk together where they'd almost--Nope. "I mean... Not that I... Beer?" She held out his bottle to him, shaking her head slightly. Great, Buffy, open mouth - insert foot. "Beer good," she nodded, "Foamy..."
And something for her mouth to do when sheer death-defying embarassment took over.
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He knew she could hold her liquor better when it wasn't special beer, but he couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease her relentlessly. Especially when he didn't get to do it enough lately ( ... )
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Didn't mean he wasn't disappointed.
"Yeah," he laughed, pulling at the label on his beer bottle, "you and Dean in a car together could prove more dangerous than anything we hunt." He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice as he continued, "You got a lot on your plate now. I don't blame you for finally snagging your chance at normal."
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"Normal? You're kidding, right? I just gave a bunch of girls supernatural-strength. Dawn is demanding to become a Watcher-in-Training while sitting her SAT's, Giles wants us to start looking for the new Slayers pretty much now and I'm--" she shot a look at him, "--kind of at a loss for something to do, actually. I came down here to put some serious hurt on that demon and instead I find you. Are you getting normal in any of this?" She grinned.
And suddenly, it seemed right. Giles would be miffed, of course, but he'd get over it - Sam was right about that. "What would you say if I told you I was thinking of taking you up on your offer?"
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"Maybe I jumped the gun on calling that normal," he laughed as he finished off his beer.
And then she had a change of heart, and he wondered for a moment if he was already drunk and mishearing things. But when he looked up from his peeled beer bottle she was fixing him with a familiar smile. He used to call it her "procrastination grin", the one she would use to convince him that there were better things to do than study for their upcoming Chemistry test.
"I would say... I would say I have a credit card that can easily get you a wardrobe that's less stripper ready," he grinned.
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"Yeah, jumping the gun could be the word," she grinned.
When he looked at her like that, it made it right. Despite any misgivings Giles would have--Buffy was needed. Not just for the Slayer, she had no doubts whatsoever about their abilities on this fight--But for her.
Maybe in the best friend capacity, maybe not - she'd see with that one.
"Then I'd say I think I love you," Buffy smiled, "and when can we shop?"
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"No, not drunk. Still holding my own against you, lightweight," he teased. He looked up, smile fading a bit as she mentioned them saving each other. Honestly, he had always thought it was Buffy who saved him, not the other way around. She had seemed so natural in her own skin--playing both normal girl and Slayer, but now, tonight, he finally realized that she had felt as alone as him in their world.
"If I was your normal, we obviously had issues," he said with a faint smile, taking another long drink from his beer.
And then she asked the question that he had forced himself to stop thinking about months ago. The ultimate of the "what ifs" that haunted him about the choices he had made in his life.
You ever wonder what would have happened if I'd ( ... )
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She hadn't been in-line for making a friend-slash-potential-boyfriend thing but--Sam had just kind of happened. And before Buffy had known where she was, she'd found someone she trusted completely. And she didn't do that easy.
"Yeah, well, we're both freaks," she told him with a resigned smile. Both freaks together and totally something she could live with. Totally something she'd liked living with until the call home ( ... )
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To say that Sam was relieved was an understatement. He was glad that he hadn't been the only one haunted by the "what ifs" of their relationship this whole time.
"That's not sad," he said with a small shake of his head. It was hopeful. She'd still had hope, and he had given up on his, trying and failing at moving on to another girl, another life.
"I'm gonna...I'm gonna probably regret telling you this cause it makes me a complete asshole but..." He took another drink, trying to find courage at the bottom of his bottle. "I loved Jessica. More than anything, but I... I would have hurt her in the longrun. Because, just...no matter how much I loved her, no matter how much I could have tried, she just...."
He swallowed hard, not sure how she would respond to the words that were tumbling out of his mouth. "She wasn't you."
And there it was. That ball of guilt he'd kept hidden in the pit of his stomach after Jess' death, that he had unwittingly made Jess his Buffy substitute.
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That even when you were happy - and she'd admit there'd been a lot more of that in the previous year than she'd had that year before - there was still something kind of... Missing.
It had been simple with Sam. Simple and kind of easy and okay, they'd been living the Mother of all Double Lives but even when that had come out it'd been okay and she'd realized that maybe love didn't have a whole armful of angst attached onto it all the time.
She blinked at him, wondering what he could possibly regret telling her when he himself knew everything about her and then some and--Then, he told her ( ... )
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