Fic: Falling In Obscurity (SPN/BtVS)
Title: Falling In Obscurity
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off of this.
Fandom(s): Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,030
Characters/Pairings: Buffy Summers/Dean Winchester, Special Agent Victor Henrickson, Sam Winchester
[b]Prompt: Table #3 prompt 08. “Sweetest thing” at Route 66: Destination Sunnydale
Prompt #114 - Seychelles at tamingthemuse
Spoilers: SPN general, BtVS general
Summary: Henrickson questions Buffy Summers on the whereabouts of the Winchesters.
Author’s Notes: Beta’d by blue_icy_rose. This is an idea I’ve had for awhile, please enjoy and comment.
It was one of the many tactics he had learned over the years. Keep them in the interrogation room for awhile, let them sweat it out, worry. It loosened their tongue and made them slip up easier and he needed this one to slip up.
Pretty blonde-haired, green-eyed Buffy Summers was the first lead he’d gotten on the Winchesters in months.
“Miss Summers.” His voice was polite and his smile tight. “I’m Special Agent Victor Hendrickson. I have a few questions for you.”
Buffy sat in one of the metal chairs, clad in worn, tight jeans and a ruffled white top. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and her hands were folded in front of her on the table. She met Hendrickson’s eyes and smiled brightly, reaching up to push her hair behind her ears. “I really don’t know what this about.”
Henrickson wrapped his fingers around the back of the other chair, his other hand slipping into his coat casually. “I think you know exactly what this is about.” He drew out a manila folder and laid it down on the paper in front of her, flipping it open.
He smiled coldly and drew back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, tell me Miss Summers, when did you last see Dean Winchester?” The first thing in the folder was a black and white picture of Dean Winchester, a mug shot with him pulling a Blue Steel.
Buffy’s smile faltered for a split second before her eyes shifted, becoming confused and she feigned interest in the photo. She shook her head slightly, looking back up at Henrickson, her voice dripping with sincerity. “I’m sorry, I would really love to help but I don’t recognize him.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “I find that hard to believe.” He reached over and flipped the photo to reveal another. A security image that was just clear enough to show Dean with his arm wrapped around Buffy’s shoulders as they entered a store. “So where is Dean Winchester?” His voice had hardened.
“I don’t know.” Buffy laid her hands flat on the table as she stood gracefully. “Now, I really have to go.” She moved to leave, heading to the door, and was stopped by Henrickson’s hand wrapping around her bicep.
She flexed her arm, her eyes locked on the door and when his grip only tightened, she glanced up at him, her eyes dangerous and her body less supple and small. “Let. Go,” she breathed out softly, her voice a deadly whisper.
“Tell me where Dean Winchester is. You’re protecting a murderer.”
Buffy wrenched her arm out of his hold with a surprising show of strength. “No, I’m not.” She leveled Henrickson with a glare. “But you seem pretty obsessed with catching a coupe of guys whose biggest crimes are credit card fraud and grave desecration.”
“They’ve killed people.”
Buffy snorted. “Funny how the witnesses you guys have tell a different story.” She shook her head, her lips tilting up in a bitter smile. “The smartest thing you could do is stop looking for Dean and his brother.” She shrugged, innocence pouring from her voice. “But I don’t know anything. I just have so many summer flings, they kinda all run together.”
She walked away from him, her fingers closing over the handle and the smile she gave him was bright and bleeding with insincerity. “You know, if you really want to find Dean, you should try Seychelles. Great food.” She tilted her head to him in farewell and stepped out of the room and then out of the building, her steps steady.
Her hand only shook a little as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hit one of the speed dial buttons, the one under Dawn but above Giles.
“Hey babe, how’d it go?” His voice was rough and warm and everything that made the world a little brighter and faster.
“Where are you?” she demanded and if she smoked she would be reaching for a cigarette right now instead of twirling her blond hair around her finger like the cheerleader she used to be.
“Now do you think that’s wise, Sunshine?” He was all confidence and cocksure attitude. “You never know who could be listening in for just a hint to where my luscious self is.”
“Dean,” Buffy drew out in frustration.
There was a familiar purr that tore through the night and straight to her heart and Buffy pocketed her phone with one hand while she dragged her other hand through her hair. The Impala rolled down the street and pulled up beside her in blatant disregard of the police station behind her.
“Well, hello, pretty lady.” Dean Winchester grinned at her from the driver’s seat, hands wrapped skillfully around the wheel and Sam just rolled his eyes from the passenger side and popped open the door, stepping swiftly out of the car.
He, at leas, had some sense and he looked wearily at the building before unfolding the seat. Buffy gave him a grateful smile and a half hug as she slid in past him into the backseat and took up her position perched on the smooth leather, head coming up to rest by Dean’s shoulder.
Sam got back into the car but neither Dean nor Buffy noticed, too wrapped up in each other. Buffy leaned forward further and Dean had his head turned towards her.
“Hey,” she whispered softly, smiling like a little kid.
“Hey.” His grin was large and he leaned back a bit to capture her lips in a quick teasing kiss.
“You know, guys, we really should be going,” Sam suggested, amusement and exasperation warring in his voice. Dean was already focusing on the road as he pulled out and Buffy was settling herself more comfortably in her seat.
“So where we going?” she asked Dean, her body practically vibrating from the released tension three hours in a small room had given her.
Dean grinned broadly. “Seychelles.”
Sam snorted, shaking his head. “It’s just a bar, Dean.”
Dean’s eyes met Buffy’s in the rearview mirror before he glanced sharply at his brother, eyebrows raised. “Dude, a bar with booze and awesome pie.”
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off of this.
Fandom(s): Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,030
Characters/Pairings: Buffy Summers/Dean Winchester, Special Agent Victor Henrickson, Sam Winchester
[b]Prompt: Table #3 prompt 08. “Sweetest thing” at Route 66: Destination Sunnydale
Prompt #114 - Seychelles at tamingthemuse
Spoilers: SPN general, BtVS general
Summary: Henrickson questions Buffy Summers on the whereabouts of the Winchesters.
Author’s Notes: Beta’d by blue_icy_rose. This is an idea I’ve had for awhile, please enjoy and comment.
It was one of the many tactics he had learned over the years. Keep them in the interrogation room for awhile, let them sweat it out, worry. It loosened their tongue and made them slip up easier and he needed this one to slip up.
Pretty blonde-haired, green-eyed Buffy Summers was the first lead he’d gotten on the Winchesters in months.
“Miss Summers.” His voice was polite and his smile tight. “I’m Special Agent Victor Hendrickson. I have a few questions for you.”
Buffy sat in one of the metal chairs, clad in worn, tight jeans and a ruffled white top. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and her hands were folded in front of her on the table. She met Hendrickson’s eyes and smiled brightly, reaching up to push her hair behind her ears. “I really don’t know what this about.”
Henrickson wrapped his fingers around the back of the other chair, his other hand slipping into his coat casually. “I think you know exactly what this is about.” He drew out a manila folder and laid it down on the paper in front of her, flipping it open.
He smiled coldly and drew back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, tell me Miss Summers, when did you last see Dean Winchester?” The first thing in the folder was a black and white picture of Dean Winchester, a mug shot with him pulling a Blue Steel.
Buffy’s smile faltered for a split second before her eyes shifted, becoming confused and she feigned interest in the photo. She shook her head slightly, looking back up at Henrickson, her voice dripping with sincerity. “I’m sorry, I would really love to help but I don’t recognize him.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “I find that hard to believe.” He reached over and flipped the photo to reveal another. A security image that was just clear enough to show Dean with his arm wrapped around Buffy’s shoulders as they entered a store. “So where is Dean Winchester?” His voice had hardened.
“I don’t know.” Buffy laid her hands flat on the table as she stood gracefully. “Now, I really have to go.” She moved to leave, heading to the door, and was stopped by Henrickson’s hand wrapping around her bicep.
She flexed her arm, her eyes locked on the door and when his grip only tightened, she glanced up at him, her eyes dangerous and her body less supple and small. “Let. Go,” she breathed out softly, her voice a deadly whisper.
“Tell me where Dean Winchester is. You’re protecting a murderer.”
Buffy wrenched her arm out of his hold with a surprising show of strength. “No, I’m not.” She leveled Henrickson with a glare. “But you seem pretty obsessed with catching a coupe of guys whose biggest crimes are credit card fraud and grave desecration.”
“They’ve killed people.”
Buffy snorted. “Funny how the witnesses you guys have tell a different story.” She shook her head, her lips tilting up in a bitter smile. “The smartest thing you could do is stop looking for Dean and his brother.” She shrugged, innocence pouring from her voice. “But I don’t know anything. I just have so many summer flings, they kinda all run together.”
She walked away from him, her fingers closing over the handle and the smile she gave him was bright and bleeding with insincerity. “You know, if you really want to find Dean, you should try Seychelles. Great food.” She tilted her head to him in farewell and stepped out of the room and then out of the building, her steps steady.
Her hand only shook a little as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hit one of the speed dial buttons, the one under Dawn but above Giles.
“Hey babe, how’d it go?” His voice was rough and warm and everything that made the world a little brighter and faster.
“Where are you?” she demanded and if she smoked she would be reaching for a cigarette right now instead of twirling her blond hair around her finger like the cheerleader she used to be.
“Now do you think that’s wise, Sunshine?” He was all confidence and cocksure attitude. “You never know who could be listening in for just a hint to where my luscious self is.”
“Dean,” Buffy drew out in frustration.
There was a familiar purr that tore through the night and straight to her heart and Buffy pocketed her phone with one hand while she dragged her other hand through her hair. The Impala rolled down the street and pulled up beside her in blatant disregard of the police station behind her.
“Well, hello, pretty lady.” Dean Winchester grinned at her from the driver’s seat, hands wrapped skillfully around the wheel and Sam just rolled his eyes from the passenger side and popped open the door, stepping swiftly out of the car.
He, at leas, had some sense and he looked wearily at the building before unfolding the seat. Buffy gave him a grateful smile and a half hug as she slid in past him into the backseat and took up her position perched on the smooth leather, head coming up to rest by Dean’s shoulder.
Sam got back into the car but neither Dean nor Buffy noticed, too wrapped up in each other. Buffy leaned forward further and Dean had his head turned towards her.
“Hey,” she whispered softly, smiling like a little kid.
“Hey.” His grin was large and he leaned back a bit to capture her lips in a quick teasing kiss.
“You know, guys, we really should be going,” Sam suggested, amusement and exasperation warring in his voice. Dean was already focusing on the road as he pulled out and Buffy was settling herself more comfortably in her seat.
“So where we going?” she asked Dean, her body practically vibrating from the released tension three hours in a small room had given her.
Dean grinned broadly. “Seychelles.”
Sam snorted, shaking his head. “It’s just a bar, Dean.”
Dean’s eyes met Buffy’s in the rearview mirror before he glanced sharply at his brother, eyebrows raised. “Dude, a bar with booze and awesome pie.”