I'm back! Though I'll be honest, this story is going to be updated far less often than the first installment. Sorry 'bout that =\. I'm aiming for once every week or two, but once school gets into full swing that may change. No matter what, though, I will NOT be abandoning this story. I will finish it, and my updates will continue, even if there is a hiatus during exam periods. I'll do my best to give a warning about mini-hiatus'.

On to the story! This is kind of a connecting story between South of Heaven and the story that I truly want to tell. I couldn't just jump to that part, however. I needed a set up, and I needed the time line to work. This is going to be heavy on dialogue, and not quite as romance heavy as I had hoped, but I promise it is there. That third installment that is coming is where the romance is going to be the focus more. This is kinda the relationship building part.

I have really, really messed with Supernatural's timeline from when Dean returns from Purgatory onward. Fans of the show, forgive me. When it comes to BtVS, I followed canon quite closely, as you'll see. I've played with some stuff, and when that comes up I'll make a note of it. That being said, I hope that you enjoy what I've done with it.

As always, I own nothing. BtVS is Whedon, and Spn is Kripke. I just like playing with their characters. How could they make two characters that would be PERFECT together, but not be on the same show!?

Prologue

Dean could do nothing but stand there and watch as the monster's sword-like claw arced through the air silently and slice cleanly through the girl's throat. Her wide green eyes stared at him, begging him to do something, to save her. There wasn't one fibre of his being that didn't want to save her, but he couldn't even move. It was as though he was being held back by something, something that didn't want him anywhere near the girl. All he could do was stand there and watch as she fell, all the while calling to him, screaming for him.

He tried to call to her, "Buffy!" It was of no use, though. His voice came out quiet and hoarse, as though he had not spoken in days.

It was hard to watch, but impossible to tear his eyes away. He saw her fall to her knees, blood rushing from the gaping wound at her throat. Her hands grasped at the gash, trying to hold the blood back, but to no avail. It wasn't until she was laying, crumpled on the dirty ground, that Dean was finally able to find the ability to move. He was at her side in mere seconds, cradling her head in his lap. He fought back tears as he tried to staunch the bleeding. He kept muttering the word "no" over and over again, fighting to keep her here. He fought to keep her alive. It was all of no use, there was far too much blood, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she was gone. It didn't matter what he did now, she was going to die in his arms. He had failed her. The life was already draining from her eyes as the blood started to seep into his clothes.

"D-Dean," Buffy stammered. Her voice was weak, and came out with a gurgling sound as the blood poured down her throat, her shaky hands reached out for him.

"I'm here, Buffy. I'm here," Dean grasped her hand in his, "God I'm so sorry."

"How could you let me die?" Her eyes looked up at him accusingly.

His words failed him.

"You left me for dead!"

She screamed at him this time. With blood still gushing from her throat Buffy dug claws into Dean's arms. She sliced at him in a vicious attack and blood started to erupt from the wounds she created. He tried to get away from her, but her grip was much too strong. Her assault was unrelenting, and soon the pool of blood surrounding them was a perfect mix of the hunter and the slayer.

"You let me die, Dean!"

ӁӁӁ

Dean woke with a start, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin and his fingers dug deeply into the mattress below him. His throat was parched as he fought to catch his breath. His eyes sought out the clock, the only light in the dark room, save for the soft illumination of the motel's neon sign. 3:07am. Long before he would have ever wanted to be awake, and not long enough after he had finally sunk into bed.

This was the new normal since Dean had returned from Purgatory. It didn't matter how well he thought he had adjusted to the real world again, it was obvious that leaving Purgatory behind wasn't going to be as simple as Dean had hoped. It had left a mark on him that he was beginning to understand would be with him the rest of his life. Every night, as soon as he closed his eyes, he was back in that place. He could hear the leaves rustle in the breeze, he could taste the musty water, he could feel the build-up of black ooze on his hands and face, and he could smell the death and decay. His brain did an immaculate job of recreating Purgatory for him, each and every night. There was only one thing worse than living through Purgatory in his dreams, again and again. One thing that could cut him deeper than his own memories of Purgatory ever could.

Every night he watched Buffy die.

It was always the same, and yet always different. Each death was different, something new would be her end. One night she'd be ripped to pieces, another night she'd be impaled. Different creatures and different attacks, but her words always remained the same. The way she looked at him always remained the same. It was a mix of pain and betrayal. She blamed him for her death.

He did, too. No matter what happened, his actions were always the same. He was always held back, completely unable to move until it was too late. Every night he would try. All he had to do was make it to her side and she'd be fine. He would do something fast and clever, and she'd be okay. Except that never happened. It was always the same.

Every night, every single night, Dean failed to save Buffy.

That was what drove him to research. Unlike in his dreams, unlike in Purgatory, there was something he could do to save her now. He could get her the hell out of that place. He didn't care what Cas said. There had to be a way, and he didn't give a damn what "plans" were in motion. He had to save her.

Dean didn't really know where to begin looking, research had never really been his strong suit, but he figured diving in head first was the way to go. If his nights were going to be sleepless anyways, they may as well be productive. He would do anything to stop his dreams from becoming reality. Dean opted to keep the nightmares and research a secret from Sammy. So far he had kept most everything about Purgatory a secret from his brother, to be honest. Secrets were nothing new in this family anyways, they were as fluent in secrets as they were in sarcasm and avoidance.

Sam had caught him a few times, waking from a nightmare or already up and researching. He had seen Sam check the laptop's browser history more than once, too. Thankfully Dean had been smart enough to clear that. Dean had become incredibly talented at hiding the books he had acquired during his research as well, and that was something that Sam had not yet figured out. Sam had asked Dean about the late-night research a few times, but he wasn't ready to talk about any of it. Not yet. Asking Sammy for help would probably make this whole thing easier, Dean often though. Sam had always been better at the research end of things, and having two sets of eyes on the problem could do nothing but help. Despite that, this was something Dean felt like he needed to do himself, though. Just him. It wasn't Sam that heard her laughter in the night. He didn't see her green eyes everywhere. He didn't see her die every single night. Sam wasn't the one that was haunted by the Slayer. Dean had to be the one that fixed this. He had to save her.

He just hoped that he wasn't too late.