Can't Make You Love Me

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. The song that inspired this belongs to…someone else too.

Turn down the lights.
Turn down the bed.
Turn down these voices inside my head.
Lay down with me.
Tell me no lies.
Just hold me close, don't patronize…
Don't patronize me.

'Cause I can't make you love me if you don't.
You can't make your heart feel something it won't
Here in the dark, in these final hours
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power
But you won't, no you won't
'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't

I'll close my eyes, then I won't see
The love you don't feel when you're holding me
Morning will come and I'll do what's right
Just give me till then to give up this fight
And I will give up this fight

Buffy Summers curled closer to the warmth beside her and closed her eyes. A small, happy smile curved her lips when his arm rose around her waist. They didn't speak, but that was fine. This way, she wasn't asking him what this was; he wasn't lying to her or evading her questions. This way…she could pretend. She could pretend that he loved her like she wanted him to. She could pretend that she wasn't just a convenience to him.

God, she had never felt more pathetic. She clenched her eyes shut and violently shoved back to urge to cry. She would do that later over a carton of ice cream with her sister by her side. Right now, she just tightened her arm around his waist and laid her head onto his chest.

In a way, she understood how ridiculous she was being. Dean Winchester was a hunter; she was a Slayer. Their lives…there were no white fences and children, but…she wasn't looking for marriage or kids. She wasn't looking for that life. She had long since given up on that. She just…she just wanted love. Was that too much to ask for?!

Dawn, of course, would say no; and then she would get angry with her for thinking she deserved what the older Winchester brother was putting her through. But…Dawn had it easy. Dawn…Dawn had the man she wanted, the man who loved her in bed beside her. Buffy had seen how tightly he held onto her; it was as if he were afraid that someone would steal her out of his arms. It was…heartbreakingly sweet.

Dean…Dean though…most of the time, he was pushing her away. When they weren't tumbling around underneath the sheets, he held her at a distance. He would allow her to cuddle up beside him, but that awful detachment was still there. Buffy rolled her lips together.

'Why do I always fall in love with men that will never love me enough or in the right way…or even at all?' She wondered. 'Is there something wrong with me?' She bit deeply into her bottom lip and squeezed her eyelids closed even harder as she fought the wave of emotion running through her.

"Look at you," she heard Faith hissing in her mind, "the great Buffy brought to her knees by a man? Come on, girl! You're Buffy! Just get up and move on! He's nothing special." She wanted to listen…but…there was a problem. Dean was something special. She had felt it from the moment they met. She just didn't know she was alone in that feeling. Two years of his constant disappearing and reappearing in her life, two years of this constant tug of war on her feelings… 'I don't have much more left in me,' Buffy mourned.

"You can't make him love you, Buffy," she heard her sister's sad tones. "I know it hurts, but…once it stops…and it will stop after you let him go-" Buffy hadn't let her sister finish. The idea of letting Dean go hurt so much more than losing Angel had. It was unhealthy. It was downright destructive to love him this much.

Angel…Angel had been meant for her. Or so she had thought. But now...her heart was screaming that Dean was the one made for her. How could she let that go, let him go? Unconsciously, she tightened her arms around him.

"Oh, sweetie," she heard her mother's voice in her head the night she had mourned Angel so powerfully that she had ended up curled on the bathroom floor, sick to her stomach, "no man is worth this much anguish. It feels like the end of the world now, honey, but I promise you…it isn't. This pain you feel…it'll fade and you'll meet the man you were always meant for. But in the meantime, I think there's a carton of Cookie Dough ice cream waiting for you in the freezer." She swallowed heavily and curled tighter into him.

"Buffy?" She heard his voice; it was filled with sleep and amusement. She cursed mentally when her heart gave a small skip at the concern in his tone. "You alright?"

"Yeah…" She whispered. Her eyes lingered on the glowing numbers she could vaguely make out on the nightstand. 5 a.m. "Sorry I woke you."

"Uh huh…then…you're crushing my ribs out of happiness?" Buffy loosened her hold immediately.

"Sorry!" She apologized as she moved away from him. She didn't want him to see her face. She had lost the fight when her tears. She looked up at the ceiling when she heard him shift on the bed. The lamp flicked on, filling the room with soft light. She kept her back to him and prayed that he wouldn't come around to her side of the bed.

"Buff? You wanna tell me what's bothering you?"

"I'm fine," she attempted to dismiss it.

"Bullshit. You're shaking," Dean called her out immediately. She clenched her jaw and tensed her body in an attempt to get them to stop, but it didn't help. Her entire body began to shiver harder. "Buffy?" He whispered her name. She lost the battle even more. A noise…a gross cross between a sob and a groan tore from her lips as she folded in on herself. She covered her face with her hands. "Buffy!" He called her name more urgently; she vaguely heard the bed shift a final time before she felt his hands on her wrists. "What's wrong, baby?"

'Baby….' The endearment only made it hurt worse.

"Get out," Buffy choked. Dean sat back onto his heels and stared at her numbly. "I can't," she hiccupped, "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep loving you." Dean's lips fell apart in surprise. His shock had robbed him of speak for a moment. "And…and getting nothing in return," she slapped her hands to her thighs and stared at him. Her eyes were filled with pleading and pure anguish that he had somehow missed. "So, I'm begging you, Dean…until you can feel the same for me, I need you to leave." Dean simply stared at her. "Please!" The pure agony in her voice made him move. He shot up to his feet almost automatically. He was halfway to her bedroom door before his heart finally caught up with his mind. He stopped.

"You know what. No," Dean said as he turned around. He was angry. But not at her. He was angry at himself for hurting her like this…for not seeing it sooner. She loved him. He kept pushing her away…he kept pushing her away because he did love her. "I do love you, Buffy."

"Don't patronize me!" Buffy exploded as she vaulted to her feet.

"I'm not!" Dean protested as he ducked the pillow she had hurled at his head. "Damn it, woman, stop throwing shit at me and listen!" He was immensely relieved to see her arm—which had been posed to throw her alarm clock—relax down to her side. "I'm afraid," he puffed, hating himself. "I was afraid of loving you because of what that would mean. Sammy and I…we don't have the best track records. People we love end up dead." Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "For good." Dean added. "And…and…I couldn't stomach the thought of that happening to you…so I pushed you away." Buffy gave a snort of disgust.

"What is it with the men in my life and pushing? What is it, Dean, you think you know best for me?" Buffy hurled at him. His words brought back old wounds: Angel, Spike, Riley. She had thought Dean would be different.

"No, I wouldn't-" Dean tried.

"Do you think I can't handle whatever the world throws at me?" She asked, advancing on him with alarm clock in hand. Dean tried not to step back at the sheer anger and hurt he saw in her eyes. He sent up a quick prayer to whomever was listening that he wouldn't die from an alarm clock beating.

"No, I-" If he had thought that she wasn't listening to him before, this proved it. He couldn't remain quiet however.

"Do you feel intimidated that I'm stronger than you?" That one threw him for a loop.

"What, no! Damn it, Buffy, will you just shut up and let me talk?!" He yelled. Buffy's mouth clicked closed. Her eyes burned with the suggestion that he'd better start talking. "No, I don't think I know best for you. I pretty sure we both know I'm not the best person to make that call. I'm not intimidated by your strength. It's kind of hot, actually. As for the question of what you can handle? You're damn straight I worry about that. For all your strength, you shouldn't have to handle my problems. It'll only put one big target on your back."

"It's already there."

"Well, it doesn't need a fresh coat of paint!"

"Oh my god! Man up, Winchester!" Buffy advanced on him. He stood his ground and stared down at her. "You're afraid. Everyone is! But are you honestly willing to lose me over it?! If you are, then do as I asked earlier and get the fuck out." Buffy had reached her limit. Dean hardened his jaw.

For a minute, they stood staring at each other. Then, there was movement. Dean grabbed her by her arms and jerked her up so that their lips meshed together. Buffy gasped and dropped the alarm clock to the floor in her surprise. He pulled away before she could respond and rested his forehead against hers.

"I'm not…I'm not up for losing you in any shape or fashion," his voice was low and pleading. Buffy raised her hands and cupped his cheeks.

"Then stop pushing me away," she plead in a low whisper. He clenched his eyes shut and nodded.

"Okay," he sighed as he opened his eyes again. "Alright. I'll stop pushing you away, but you…you've got to start talking to me."

"Deal," Buffy whispered as she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately. Her heart raced as their lips parted and met again. All of that weight that had made her heart so heavy was gone now as his lips met hers again and again. Her heart stayed light as he walked her back to the bed and laid her upon it.

That night, he proved to her just how much he did love her. Again and again, he showed her what he couldn't put easily into words. He erased all doubt in her mind of his feelings for her. She, in turn, let him heal the damage his carelessness had done.