Summary: Buffy wears the amulet instead of Spike, resulting in her essence being contained in it; but her soul resides in hell. While below she meets a certain green eyed man. When somebody activates the amulet, she takes it upon herself to let him hitch a ride. With them both top-side again, the seal not broken by Dean - every creature imaginable is now after them. Stuck in a place between heaven and hell, with nowhere to go - what's a couple champions to do?
Pairings: Not too sure on if Buffy and Dean become an item. It's open.
NOTES!: This is my take on the time between S3 and S4 with Btvs S8 mixed in. Memories of below will be written up in the following chapters. Reviews are welcomed/wanted! I've been wanting to do a cross-over of these two for a long while, however should I continue it?
In the darken atmosphere, the chilling sounds were echoes that repeatedly continued. Goosebumps prickled up once golden flesh that now glinted with crimson liquid, her own voice not audible above the rest. Choking on what she pressumed to be blood, Buffy merely struggled to let a breathe escape seemingly deflated lungs. Such a warrior you are! Look. at. This. The big bad slayer on a rack, tsk tsk tsk ... Taunting thoughts latched into the front of her mind absorbing there to always make the blond dwell on the occurrence that came wrapped up in a nice red ribbon, and once that was removed; tortured laid within.
The remembrance of her first death danced in and out of her conscious mind; this time she definitely was not heaven. No love, warmth or peace embraced her. Only pain and suffering clouded her existence, and she briefly pondered over the circumstances of being dragged there instead of up above. Did she do wrong? Or did the amulet possess an evil so frightening, somehow, someway, with harsh luck - it pinned all of it on her? Buffy's head angled awkwardly, trickles of blood oozed from the corner of her lips. You aren't a warrior, they would never get sent to this place. You aren't even human anymore, are you? You came back wrong the first time!
The thoughts continued, tormenting her into fits of anguish cries that expelled from bruised lips, steadily increasing in volume until an instant silence when everything spun in horribly funny circles and stars were visible upon eye-lids. "How's our precious slayer?" A voice asked, with sheer deliberate disinterest lacing his tone. "Peachy keen," Despite the agony flourishing in the damaged body, Buffy managed to break out the sarcasm. Even if only momentarily.
Being submerged in the dreadful fate grated all hope to diminish. How long had she been down there? Days? Months? ...Years? A bated whimper slipped out, at that thought. The very tip of her tongue lashed out to moisten dry, cracked lips; yet no saliva coated it. The heat began to grow unbearable, and flesh seared brutally. For the all-to-sudden action, eyes full of fear darted left and right as she sought out the source of this violation. The slayer oughta know by now that the punishment where she found herself in was not to be taken lightly. No matter of seconds were peaceful, and never would be. Again.
She stared into nowhere, breath convulsive, and not giving a seconds thought to fight it, unbidden tears formed in eyes and traced down the side of her face. "You've been a bad, bad girl." The voice almost child-like, and it's familiarity pounded into her skull, the fear rising at an alarming rate. "Dawn?" Eyes were fixated on the ceiling, frankly, it did not even look to be a solid ceiling, just one gaping black hole. "They said it's my turn to show you how much of a bad sister you are, so, here I am!" A giggle erupted, startling the blond into a deeper submission, if possible. Squeezing eyes tightly shut, feeling compelled to never give a glance toward what lurked mere inches from the rack.
"Buff ..." the tone cold, and a stinging sensation snapped eyes open, peering up at the face hovering so close to her own. Pure hatred radiated from the supposed eyes of her sister Dawn, it made the blond squirm. Chains kept the woman from escaping, chains on her ankles, wrists, midsection and even embedding to the depths of her soul holding her hostage for what she knew would be eternal. "Please," the beginning of a series of begging, that lasted even as a knife slid into her abdomen. Sanity was driven out and replaced with insanity that raged heavily. 'Somebody please help me!'
As if on cue, a tug brought the woman's back up and arched, a gasp released into the hellish nightmare. One by one the chains were gone, body suspended into the air "NOOO!" The echoes of the demon could not be heard by Buffy Summers. Ivory digits sought after the form of a man ...taking him with her; like she promised.
Immediately, the amulet activated. A black whirlwind erupted from it, causing papers on Bobby's desk to stir. The ashen whirlwind started to glow with flecks of orange as something began to materialize inside it. A woman's skeletal form shows, then it gradually filled out until it's complete. The wind faded and Buffy was standing there, screaming and grunting, in the middle of the living area, right where the amulet was dropped. The slayer wore the exact same wardrobe the day she died; faded fitted blue jeans, a white v-neck blouse ending with a cream-colored jacket. Blood coated the front of the blouse where she'd been sliced through by a swore through her back.
Blond locks were disheveled, eyes wide and frightful, almost wild - as if a threat posed itself right now. Her chest swelled as she looked to the man standing directly in front of her. "W-who are you?" The surroundings were unknown, and that caused fear to bubble up. Staggering backwards, Buffy collided into a man coming from behind, another scream left lips. "Where am I?" The tone pleading. The petite woman pushed away from the heavy set man stumbling into a different room, a hand clutched her side, the wound open as if it just happened. As an older man cautiously reached for a gun a look of uncertainty masked his features, her eyes widened, and she whimpered then made a break for the bedroom, where she slammed the door shut behind herself.
Where the hell was she?
Frustrated, fingers fumbled on the door knob, the lock obviously not reliable in any possible way. As if somebody deliberately broken it, which sparked fear to encircle the slender figure. Buffy deduced that the means of escaping were slim, the profound blood lose evidently decreasing reflexes among for the lack of judgment should state it all - definitely off her game. What person runs into a bedroom and not outside? A ditsy bimbo did, not Buffy Summers. A slayer who fought beyond hundreds of demons and vampires in her time of being called. A scent of rock-salt mingled in the thick tension-filled air, and something else, but drowsiness and weakness winning over everything else, at that precise moment.
Treading almost cautiously toward the nearest window she surveyed the area in visual rage. It appeared to her as some sort of junk yard. Great, just like wrong turn. Resting the heated flesh of her forehead on the cool glass, eyes fluttered closed and she parted lips taking a deep, calming breath. But the moment eyes fallen shut red and black gleams wavered dangerously, causing a stir of emotion to assault the blond without a moments hesitation. "Ah!" Buffy gasped out, leaping away from the glass as if merely touching it scorched her precious body.
Buffy grimaced, acknowledging what pointedly been reminded. Hell. Oh great! False hopes of it being some fantasized nightmare created to establish a possible sick delusional mishap which in it's entirety guilt of leaving her family behind. Even if it meant saving them in the process. Like a trapped animal, she cowered in the middle of the room, soft green orbs were gliding back and forth. The wound already healing slowly, the skin melding together, but blood still seeped out. A golden skinned hand coated with crimson that stained it. A frown woven onto dry lips making a deep impression to embedded between brows.
What am I suppose to do? She held back a whimpering sob, unsure of the next action to be taken.
The upper half of her body eased back when the door opened, no preparation for a fight, and in this weakened state - she'd be defeated. The darken thought caused mixed feelings to consume her until the man from the living room stepped inside. "I'm ain't gonna hurt you" The words so ridiculous. The line used several times in the past, and each, and every time, they hurt her. Few vampires, one demon - Angel, Spike, Riley, Parker - she could easily calculate and disagree with that statement he provided upon arrival into the bedroom-from what she witnessed, she considered it that-his doe orbs staring at her. Eyes widened perturbedly, the amulet dangling from fingers.
Buffy timidly extended slender fingers to coil around the amulet itself and tug it for good measure in her direction. Oh, Dean! Where was he? "Who're you?" The young, handsome man asked of Buffy, then he added, "And why were you in -" finishing his sentence with a gesture to the amulet. Swallowing hard, the slayer went to speak when water was splashed in her face, and she sputtered. "Precaution," A gruff voice interjected. "I'm Buffy Summers ..but ...you see, I'm missin' somebody ..I gotta find him," Not even thinking a second to the concern in her tone, she went to dodge out of the room to wince as pain throbbed in her side.
"You ain't goin' no where, you can barely keep steady ..and, you have a lot of explainin' to do." The aged man scowled, his jaw sealing up with a clench of his muscles. He looked dead serious. "Who you lookin' for?" A quiet whisper flooded the silence. Should she say anything? No threatening vibes hit her slayer senses. "A ..friend?" Okay, maybe not technically a friend, but whatever. "Dean Winchester," In the next second, she stared into a barrel of a gun. Oh ...my