It's the Winchester Gospel - August 31st
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 31
Title: It’s the Winchester Gospel
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG-13/FR18/T
Crossover: BtVS/Supernatural
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Supernatural people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Dean realizes Sam is still in communication with Buffy.
Notes: Part 5 of “Two Hunter Brothers & a Slayer Sister” - Links Page
Seasons: Post-Season 5/Season 7
Word Count: 2430
Buffy stirred her coffee absently as she read another chapter of the book she had picked up. She did not know why it had drawn her to it. It was a paperback book with just a black muscle car on the front and a blurb about a woman in white on the back. Or, if she were going to attempt to be honest, the car reminded her of her brothers. They rode around in an Impala.
Then she had started reading. Somehow, she had stumbled onto a poorly written, but familiar account about her family. And, God help her, she was more than a little intrigued. She had read through more than half the book in a few hours. But it had helped her to understand her older brother, Dean. They were a lot alike, sacrificing for others, especially their siblings…
Her coffee was stone cold by the time she finished reading the book. It had chronicled the deaths of Mary and Jess twenty-two years apart, and how Sam and Dean - as adults - had started hunting together. Fascinated, she set about digging up the rest of the series.
88888888
SW -
I got some questions for you.
- EW
Sam read the text twice.
“What is it?” Dean asked, glancing over from the driver’s seat.
“I-It’s nothing,” Sam answered.
About what? he texted back.
“You seem awful focused on ‘nothing’,” he pointed out.
Sam frowned at him, but another text came in and he returned his attention to his phone. A picture came up. It was a couple of book covers. He eyes widened in surprise.
“Dude?” Dean said, trying to figure out what was up.
Is any of this true?
Sam swallowed. He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it. “Um, uh, Buffy is asking if there is any truth to the Supernatural books.”
Dean jerked the steering wheel so hard he skidded onto the shoulder. He got the car back under control and cleared his throat. “What?”
“Apparently she found the books.”
“Damnit, tell her to stop reading that crap.”
Why are you reading those? Sam wrote.
A picture came back of the cover of the first book. It was the Impala. The cover caught my attention. It wasn’t until I was a few chapters in that I realized some of the backstory was eerily similar to what you had told me.
Sam scoffed, smirking at his phone.
“What?” Dean demanded.
“Uh - she says she started reading the first book because the picture of the Impala on the cover.”
Dean frowned over the steering wheel.
How much have you read?
Is Dean really that much of a man-slut?
Worse.
Ew.
Sam chuckled.
“What?” Dean asked again.
“Nothing,” Sam answered, but there was a note of amusement in his voice.
I’ve finished the published books, she admitted. Once I realized they were actually about you…I wanted to know more. At the same time, there are some things about Dean’s habits and preferences no sister should know.
Yeah, no one should know some of the things in there. Sam hesitated but then typed, For the most part it is accurate. Apparently it is the Winchester Gospel.
The worst part is, I can’t tell if you’re joking.
I wish I was.
Wow.
88888888
“How long have you been texting her?” Dean asked over dinner the next night. They were back at the cabin, hoping to figure out what worked against Leviathans.
“Since she left,” Sam told him. “Nothing big, just texts about the jobs she’s working or where she is.”
Dean nodded as he drank more of his beer.
Sam’s phone chirped, indicating another text. Okay, can see why pairs better. It’s not the job, it’s cleaning and sewing up wounds.
Sam frowned and shifted in his seat.
“What is it?”
“She’s hurt.” He dialed a number and put his phone to his ear. “Hey, where are you? How bad is it?”
“I…I can’t remember where. But it’s bleeding and I can’t reach it to stop it. Stupid arms can’t put pressure on my back.” Her speech was low and a little slurred. “I’ll call you back, I’m feeling sleepy…”
“Buffy! No.” He listened for a moment but there was nothing. “Damnit.”
“What?”
“She’s unconscious and injured.”
“I thought she healed fast,” Dean said.
“She does, but she has to live long enough for it to heal.” He started going back through the messages he had gotten from her recently. He found the most recent one. “Here. She’s on a job in Idaho.”
“Come on.” Dean stood, digging into his pocket for the keys to the Impala.
88888888
Buffy woke slowly, groaning at the dull pain and weakness that consumed her. She felt wrung out.
Her eyelids felt heavy but she opened them. She expected to find herself alone on the floor of her hotel room. Her memory suggested that’s where she was when she passed out. It would not be the first time.
Instead, she was in a bed. Sam was sitting at the table, working on his laptop.
“Wha-” she rasped out.
Sam looked at her in surprise. His worried gaze met hers, but his lips turned up in relief. “Buffy. Hey. How’re you feeling?”
“Thirsty.”
“Here,” a voice said from the other side of her.
Two sets of hands sat her up. A bottle of water was pressed to her lips. She drank greedily, water barely helping her dry mouth and throat. A fair bit missed her mouth and dribbled down her chin.
When the bottle was half drained, it was pulled away.
“Mmh,” she protested weakly, leaning her head against Sam’s shoulder.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“Werewolf,” the other voice said. “Were you tracking one?”
“Mm-hm,” came her response. “Got her.”
“But she got a piece of you,” the other voice said. Dean’s face came into view as he paced in front of her.
“But you’re immune to it, right?” Sam clarified.
Buffy nodded her head against his shoulder.
“What do you mean ‘immune’?” Dean demanded.
“Being the Slayer…she’s got immunities - doesn’t get sick, heals from almost anything, and can’t be turned - at least not into a werewolf.”
“Or vampire,” she muttered.
“Really?”
“Mm-hm.” She tried to stay awake and engage in more conversation, but when she lost as much blood as she had, it required more sleep. She trusted Sam, so she stopped fighting it.
Dean turned to ask more questions, but was surprised to find Sam laying Buffy back down on the bed.
“How did you know about her immunity?”
“Because I talk to her,” Sam replied as he returned to his seat at the motel table. “Almost every day.”
“Every day?”
“Yeah, it’s not much, just a text or two normally. Some nights we call and talk for a little while.”
“Since when?” Dean asked.
“Since the day she left.”
“The ram’s horn that paralyzed Osiris…”
“She was already heading for us, so she stopped and grabbed it.”
“Why was she headed for us?”
“Because when our brother is on trial for his life, we like to try and help.”
Dean looked away uncomfortably. “She knows about that?”
“There’s not much she doesn’t know about me. About what we’re doing.” Sam rubbed the scar on his left palm. Lucifer liked to use Buffy as a sign that he was still in the Cage. Because her existence was sheer ridiculousness. And she had the ability to make Lucifer disappear for short periods.
Sam had told her once, what Lucifer said. Buffy had chuckled and invited Lucifer to take a look in her head and see how ridiculous it was. Then she had pertly informed Sam that the Devil didn’t know shit about her. As if none of it mattered, she just kept talking to Sam.
88888888
Buffy walked out of the bathroom feeling much better. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a green shirt, and a leather jacket. Her waist-length brown hair was in a thick braid over her shoulder.
Dean absently noted that she had a fine form and filled out her clothes. He frowned and slammed his eyes closed, mentally reminding himself that it was his sister.
“Where’s Sam?” Buffy asked as she packed up her bag.
“He went to grab some food.”
“Oh, thank god, I could eat a horse, a cow, and a field of veggies.”
Dean was tempted to test her again, but they had already done the tests with salt, silver, and looking for black goo. She was still human - or as human as they could tell.
“Were you working a case?” Buffy asked as she sat on the edge of her bed.
“Just finished one up in Indiana.”
“Ghost? Shapeshifter?”
“Witches, actually.” He scoffed. “These two had spent eight hundred years making each other miserable. And loving every minute of it.”
Buffy chuckled. “Age does not make people any smarter.”
“No kidding.”
The door opened and Sam walked in with an armful of food and drinks. He carefully laid them all out on the table and stepped back to allow Dean to get to his food. Buffy was quicker and snatched up a shake, two burgers and a large fry.
She returned to the bed and dug in without ceremony. She dug into the first burger, nearly inhaling it. In between she shoved fries into her mouth. Only when she was done with the first did she suck down half the chocolate shake.
Both men stared at her wide-eyed.
Buffy ignored them, but took the second burger at a slower pace before washing it down with the last of the fries and shake.
Sam’s brow was furrowed in worry. Dean looked both impressed and disturbed.
“Thanks,” Buffy said on a sigh.
“Do you always eat like that?” Dean asked.
She shook her head. “Side effect of Slayer metabolism, saves me from dying by blood loss, but leaves me starving when I recover.”
“Wow.”
“Ar-are you still hungry?” Sam asked.
“Yes, but that helped a lot,” she turned her attention to the television. “Shall we see what is going wrong in the world today?” She clicked it on, ignoring that both of them were still staring at her.
She flicked through the news stories, finding little of immediate interest.
“Here,” Sam said, holding out another Styrofoam cup.
Buffy frowned but took it from him.
“It’s another milkshake,” he told her as he sat down next to her with his club salad.
“Thank you,” she said before slowly sipping it.
“Cass,” Dean said suddenly.
Sam and Buffy looked at him in surprise.
“You reminded of him.”
“I did?”
“His host loved red meat,” Dean explained. “When Famine came to town a couple years ago, Cass was obsessed with eating any red meat he could get his hands on.” He gave a faint smile. “He ate it a lot like you just did.”
Buffy looked at Sam, he nodded, giving a little shrug.
“Great, so I eat like Famine is on my ass,” she said. She shook her head. “Figures.”
Dean’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Bobby.” He listened for a minute, then crossed the room. He took the remote from Buffy and changed the channel.
The two men, who up until today were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors. Sam and Dean Winchester are now subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California.
A picture of Sam and Dean from the security footage at the bank flashed onscreen.
“What were you doing while I slept?” she asked.
“They Xeroxed our asses,” Dean snapped.
“Well, you think you’d remember that,” she teased.
“How did this happen?” Sam asked.
Dean put the phone on speaker. “How the hell did this happen, Bobby?”
“According to our guest, it just takes the smallest amount of DNA. A bit of hair from the drain…”
“Instant copies,” Buffy guessed.
“Best guess,” Bobby said.
“Have you found a way to gank these bastards?” Dean asked.
“So far, no cigar.”
“And now you two are burned,” Buffy said. “You, your car.” She pointed to the television where a video of them speeding off in the Impala was playing. “They are hard-up to get you guys off the board.”
“No kidding,” Dean snarked, pissed.
“Do they know about me?”
“No,” Bobby said. “I already probed. Whenever they got the DNA from, it was before you were introduced.”
“So Buffy Summers and Elizabeth Winchester are still in play?”
“I wouldn’t use Winchester,” Bobby warned. “These guys seemed to have pulled things from Cass when they were in him. And seemingly, each person they copy. They know how to look for people. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already have a copy of your birth certificate.”
“Okay. Well, that’s disturbing. But I can work around it. Probably helps that you’re basically the only ones who know that I’m a Winchester.”
“What do you mean ‘basically’?” Dean asked.
“You are, without a doubt, the only ones who know I’m your sister. But I’ve used Winchester on a couple jobs going back years.” She looked between them. “I avoided using it altogether when you guys became persona non grata after kick-starting the apocalypse.”
“As cute as that is,” Bobby said, “you need to get your asses underground. Now.”
“We should head straight for them,” Dean argued. “We need to kill them ourselves.”
“Now, wait a sec,” Bobby’s voice growled from the speaker, “Every form of law enforcement in the country has seen your ugly mugs this morning.”
“Exactly,” Dean snapped. “So what’s the point of trying to hide?”
“Better than sticking your fool neck out. These things are smarter than you.”
“Geez, Bobby,” Sam seethed, “don’t sugarcoat it.”
“You don’t have any clue how to kill ‘em or slow ‘em down, and your plan is, what? Go right at them? Genius.”
“They’re wearing our faces, Bobby. This is personal,” Dean argued.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I’m with Dean here.”
Bobby sighed. “Well, if you’re gonna be stupid, you might as well be smart about it. You need to see a fella named Frank Devereaux.”
“Fuck,” Buffy muttered.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Frank is…good, really good. But he’s also crazy.”
“So, exactly what we need right now,” Dean guessed.
“I’ll send you the contact info.”
“No need,” Buffy said. “I know where he is.” She picked up the phone from Dean’s hand. “And Bobby, I’ve rarely met something that didn’t die from having its head chopped off.”
“I was hoping for a more long-range solution.”
“So are we, but we’ll take anything.”
“Fair ‘nuff. Keep those two out of trouble.”
“No promises.”
A/N: That is another August gone! I absolutely adore participating in these. I thank the Mods wholeheartedly for keeping this up year after year. I congratulate my fellow writiers. Look forward to seeing you all next year.
-Hermione2be
Title: It’s the Winchester Gospel
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG-13/FR18/T
Crossover: BtVS/Supernatural
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Supernatural people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Dean realizes Sam is still in communication with Buffy.
Notes: Part 5 of “Two Hunter Brothers & a Slayer Sister” - Links Page
Seasons: Post-Season 5/Season 7
Word Count: 2430
Buffy stirred her coffee absently as she read another chapter of the book she had picked up. She did not know why it had drawn her to it. It was a paperback book with just a black muscle car on the front and a blurb about a woman in white on the back. Or, if she were going to attempt to be honest, the car reminded her of her brothers. They rode around in an Impala.
Then she had started reading. Somehow, she had stumbled onto a poorly written, but familiar account about her family. And, God help her, she was more than a little intrigued. She had read through more than half the book in a few hours. But it had helped her to understand her older brother, Dean. They were a lot alike, sacrificing for others, especially their siblings…
Her coffee was stone cold by the time she finished reading the book. It had chronicled the deaths of Mary and Jess twenty-two years apart, and how Sam and Dean - as adults - had started hunting together. Fascinated, she set about digging up the rest of the series.
88888888
SW -
I got some questions for you.
- EW
Sam read the text twice.
“What is it?” Dean asked, glancing over from the driver’s seat.
“I-It’s nothing,” Sam answered.
About what? he texted back.
“You seem awful focused on ‘nothing’,” he pointed out.
Sam frowned at him, but another text came in and he returned his attention to his phone. A picture came up. It was a couple of book covers. He eyes widened in surprise.
“Dude?” Dean said, trying to figure out what was up.
Is any of this true?
Sam swallowed. He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it. “Um, uh, Buffy is asking if there is any truth to the Supernatural books.”
Dean jerked the steering wheel so hard he skidded onto the shoulder. He got the car back under control and cleared his throat. “What?”
“Apparently she found the books.”
“Damnit, tell her to stop reading that crap.”
Why are you reading those? Sam wrote.
A picture came back of the cover of the first book. It was the Impala. The cover caught my attention. It wasn’t until I was a few chapters in that I realized some of the backstory was eerily similar to what you had told me.
Sam scoffed, smirking at his phone.
“What?” Dean demanded.
“Uh - she says she started reading the first book because the picture of the Impala on the cover.”
Dean frowned over the steering wheel.
How much have you read?
Is Dean really that much of a man-slut?
Worse.
Ew.
Sam chuckled.
“What?” Dean asked again.
“Nothing,” Sam answered, but there was a note of amusement in his voice.
I’ve finished the published books, she admitted. Once I realized they were actually about you…I wanted to know more. At the same time, there are some things about Dean’s habits and preferences no sister should know.
Yeah, no one should know some of the things in there. Sam hesitated but then typed, For the most part it is accurate. Apparently it is the Winchester Gospel.
The worst part is, I can’t tell if you’re joking.
I wish I was.
Wow.
88888888
“How long have you been texting her?” Dean asked over dinner the next night. They were back at the cabin, hoping to figure out what worked against Leviathans.
“Since she left,” Sam told him. “Nothing big, just texts about the jobs she’s working or where she is.”
Dean nodded as he drank more of his beer.
Sam’s phone chirped, indicating another text. Okay, can see why pairs better. It’s not the job, it’s cleaning and sewing up wounds.
Sam frowned and shifted in his seat.
“What is it?”
“She’s hurt.” He dialed a number and put his phone to his ear. “Hey, where are you? How bad is it?”
“I…I can’t remember where. But it’s bleeding and I can’t reach it to stop it. Stupid arms can’t put pressure on my back.” Her speech was low and a little slurred. “I’ll call you back, I’m feeling sleepy…”
“Buffy! No.” He listened for a moment but there was nothing. “Damnit.”
“What?”
“She’s unconscious and injured.”
“I thought she healed fast,” Dean said.
“She does, but she has to live long enough for it to heal.” He started going back through the messages he had gotten from her recently. He found the most recent one. “Here. She’s on a job in Idaho.”
“Come on.” Dean stood, digging into his pocket for the keys to the Impala.
88888888
Buffy woke slowly, groaning at the dull pain and weakness that consumed her. She felt wrung out.
Her eyelids felt heavy but she opened them. She expected to find herself alone on the floor of her hotel room. Her memory suggested that’s where she was when she passed out. It would not be the first time.
Instead, she was in a bed. Sam was sitting at the table, working on his laptop.
“Wha-” she rasped out.
Sam looked at her in surprise. His worried gaze met hers, but his lips turned up in relief. “Buffy. Hey. How’re you feeling?”
“Thirsty.”
“Here,” a voice said from the other side of her.
Two sets of hands sat her up. A bottle of water was pressed to her lips. She drank greedily, water barely helping her dry mouth and throat. A fair bit missed her mouth and dribbled down her chin.
When the bottle was half drained, it was pulled away.
“Mmh,” she protested weakly, leaning her head against Sam’s shoulder.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“Werewolf,” the other voice said. “Were you tracking one?”
“Mm-hm,” came her response. “Got her.”
“But she got a piece of you,” the other voice said. Dean’s face came into view as he paced in front of her.
“But you’re immune to it, right?” Sam clarified.
Buffy nodded her head against his shoulder.
“What do you mean ‘immune’?” Dean demanded.
“Being the Slayer…she’s got immunities - doesn’t get sick, heals from almost anything, and can’t be turned - at least not into a werewolf.”
“Or vampire,” she muttered.
“Really?”
“Mm-hm.” She tried to stay awake and engage in more conversation, but when she lost as much blood as she had, it required more sleep. She trusted Sam, so she stopped fighting it.
Dean turned to ask more questions, but was surprised to find Sam laying Buffy back down on the bed.
“How did you know about her immunity?”
“Because I talk to her,” Sam replied as he returned to his seat at the motel table. “Almost every day.”
“Every day?”
“Yeah, it’s not much, just a text or two normally. Some nights we call and talk for a little while.”
“Since when?” Dean asked.
“Since the day she left.”
“The ram’s horn that paralyzed Osiris…”
“She was already heading for us, so she stopped and grabbed it.”
“Why was she headed for us?”
“Because when our brother is on trial for his life, we like to try and help.”
Dean looked away uncomfortably. “She knows about that?”
“There’s not much she doesn’t know about me. About what we’re doing.” Sam rubbed the scar on his left palm. Lucifer liked to use Buffy as a sign that he was still in the Cage. Because her existence was sheer ridiculousness. And she had the ability to make Lucifer disappear for short periods.
Sam had told her once, what Lucifer said. Buffy had chuckled and invited Lucifer to take a look in her head and see how ridiculous it was. Then she had pertly informed Sam that the Devil didn’t know shit about her. As if none of it mattered, she just kept talking to Sam.
88888888
Buffy walked out of the bathroom feeling much better. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a green shirt, and a leather jacket. Her waist-length brown hair was in a thick braid over her shoulder.
Dean absently noted that she had a fine form and filled out her clothes. He frowned and slammed his eyes closed, mentally reminding himself that it was his sister.
“Where’s Sam?” Buffy asked as she packed up her bag.
“He went to grab some food.”
“Oh, thank god, I could eat a horse, a cow, and a field of veggies.”
Dean was tempted to test her again, but they had already done the tests with salt, silver, and looking for black goo. She was still human - or as human as they could tell.
“Were you working a case?” Buffy asked as she sat on the edge of her bed.
“Just finished one up in Indiana.”
“Ghost? Shapeshifter?”
“Witches, actually.” He scoffed. “These two had spent eight hundred years making each other miserable. And loving every minute of it.”
Buffy chuckled. “Age does not make people any smarter.”
“No kidding.”
The door opened and Sam walked in with an armful of food and drinks. He carefully laid them all out on the table and stepped back to allow Dean to get to his food. Buffy was quicker and snatched up a shake, two burgers and a large fry.
She returned to the bed and dug in without ceremony. She dug into the first burger, nearly inhaling it. In between she shoved fries into her mouth. Only when she was done with the first did she suck down half the chocolate shake.
Both men stared at her wide-eyed.
Buffy ignored them, but took the second burger at a slower pace before washing it down with the last of the fries and shake.
Sam’s brow was furrowed in worry. Dean looked both impressed and disturbed.
“Thanks,” Buffy said on a sigh.
“Do you always eat like that?” Dean asked.
She shook her head. “Side effect of Slayer metabolism, saves me from dying by blood loss, but leaves me starving when I recover.”
“Wow.”
“Ar-are you still hungry?” Sam asked.
“Yes, but that helped a lot,” she turned her attention to the television. “Shall we see what is going wrong in the world today?” She clicked it on, ignoring that both of them were still staring at her.
She flicked through the news stories, finding little of immediate interest.
“Here,” Sam said, holding out another Styrofoam cup.
Buffy frowned but took it from him.
“It’s another milkshake,” he told her as he sat down next to her with his club salad.
“Thank you,” she said before slowly sipping it.
“Cass,” Dean said suddenly.
Sam and Buffy looked at him in surprise.
“You reminded of him.”
“I did?”
“His host loved red meat,” Dean explained. “When Famine came to town a couple years ago, Cass was obsessed with eating any red meat he could get his hands on.” He gave a faint smile. “He ate it a lot like you just did.”
Buffy looked at Sam, he nodded, giving a little shrug.
“Great, so I eat like Famine is on my ass,” she said. She shook her head. “Figures.”
Dean’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Bobby.” He listened for a minute, then crossed the room. He took the remote from Buffy and changed the channel.
The two men, who up until today were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors. Sam and Dean Winchester are now subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California.
A picture of Sam and Dean from the security footage at the bank flashed onscreen.
“What were you doing while I slept?” she asked.
“They Xeroxed our asses,” Dean snapped.
“Well, you think you’d remember that,” she teased.
“How did this happen?” Sam asked.
Dean put the phone on speaker. “How the hell did this happen, Bobby?”
“According to our guest, it just takes the smallest amount of DNA. A bit of hair from the drain…”
“Instant copies,” Buffy guessed.
“Best guess,” Bobby said.
“Have you found a way to gank these bastards?” Dean asked.
“So far, no cigar.”
“And now you two are burned,” Buffy said. “You, your car.” She pointed to the television where a video of them speeding off in the Impala was playing. “They are hard-up to get you guys off the board.”
“No kidding,” Dean snarked, pissed.
“Do they know about me?”
“No,” Bobby said. “I already probed. Whenever they got the DNA from, it was before you were introduced.”
“So Buffy Summers and Elizabeth Winchester are still in play?”
“I wouldn’t use Winchester,” Bobby warned. “These guys seemed to have pulled things from Cass when they were in him. And seemingly, each person they copy. They know how to look for people. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already have a copy of your birth certificate.”
“Okay. Well, that’s disturbing. But I can work around it. Probably helps that you’re basically the only ones who know that I’m a Winchester.”
“What do you mean ‘basically’?” Dean asked.
“You are, without a doubt, the only ones who know I’m your sister. But I’ve used Winchester on a couple jobs going back years.” She looked between them. “I avoided using it altogether when you guys became persona non grata after kick-starting the apocalypse.”
“As cute as that is,” Bobby said, “you need to get your asses underground. Now.”
“We should head straight for them,” Dean argued. “We need to kill them ourselves.”
“Now, wait a sec,” Bobby’s voice growled from the speaker, “Every form of law enforcement in the country has seen your ugly mugs this morning.”
“Exactly,” Dean snapped. “So what’s the point of trying to hide?”
“Better than sticking your fool neck out. These things are smarter than you.”
“Geez, Bobby,” Sam seethed, “don’t sugarcoat it.”
“You don’t have any clue how to kill ‘em or slow ‘em down, and your plan is, what? Go right at them? Genius.”
“They’re wearing our faces, Bobby. This is personal,” Dean argued.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I’m with Dean here.”
Bobby sighed. “Well, if you’re gonna be stupid, you might as well be smart about it. You need to see a fella named Frank Devereaux.”
“Fuck,” Buffy muttered.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Frank is…good, really good. But he’s also crazy.”
“So, exactly what we need right now,” Dean guessed.
“I’ll send you the contact info.”
“No need,” Buffy said. “I know where he is.” She picked up the phone from Dean’s hand. “And Bobby, I’ve rarely met something that didn’t die from having its head chopped off.”
“I was hoping for a more long-range solution.”
“So are we, but we’ll take anything.”
“Fair ‘nuff. Keep those two out of trouble.”
“No promises.”
A/N: That is another August gone! I absolutely adore participating in these. I thank the Mods wholeheartedly for keeping this up year after year. I congratulate my fellow writiers. Look forward to seeing you all next year.
-Hermione2be