Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Real Vampires:
A low-rumbled growl sounded through the room. Concentration broken, Sam looked up from the thick tome he had been bent over and checked his phone. The time read: 2:15 PM.
He returned to reading. One more chapter before—
There was another growl, more insistent this time, coming from the same source as the last—Sam's stomach. His stomach was apparently trying to communicate to its owner that lunchtime had long passed them by, and if Sam didn't feed it soon, it was going to start eating itself.
He finally acknowledged the hollow feeling gnawing at his insides after the third growl, which could have rivaled a lion's roar. Pushing his chair back from the desk, Sam stood. He took a moment to stretch his long legs, and then left the room in search of food.
Once he entered the corridor, Sam allowed his mind to wander as his feet took him where he wanted to go.
He had never been in a place quite like the Men of Letters' safe-house. The place was so huge that it took him several minutes just to walk to the bathroom from his bedroom—which was just bad planning, in his opinion, because who built the bathroom that far away from the bedrooms, at the end of so many twists and turns? He and Dean had never found a blueprint—probably a precaution in the event that it was ever overtaken by the enemy—so their first few days here had been like wandering through a labyrinth. Someday, he wanted to map the place out on paper. There were still so many unexplored sections—hidden behind false walls, trap doors, and whatever else. Who knew what secrets they contained?
The passage was coming to an end, and he could see the foyer beyond. He had managed to navigate the corridors of the bunker back to the main section without getting lost, something for which he was grateful—it was hit and miss sometimes. As he approached what Dean had taken to calling the living room of the compound, he could make out sounds of… fighting? But it couldn't be a real fight, because it was too loud, as if there were speakers amplifying every punch and kick. Also, he was pretty sure real life didn't come with a soundtrack.
Dean was probably watching a movie.
When Sam rounded the corner, he saw his brother sitting at the table they used for everything from dinner to strategy meetings. Dean's feet were propped up on the edge of the table, his chair balancing on two hind legs. There were three empty bottles of beer next to him and another one in his hand, slowly making its way to his mouth. And, as Sam had suspected, the laptop was open in front of his brother, the speakers blaring dramatic music.
Sam wondered if Dean should be tipped back on his chair when he had been drinking. Then again, Dean probably hadn't gotten drunk off beer since he was 15.
When a few more steps forward still hadn't alerted the hunter to his presence, Sam decided to be more obvious.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice louder than necessary.
He watched with amusement as Dean jumped in his seat. His brother nearly tipped backward completely, which would have left him sprawled on the floor, legs entangled with the furniture, but his quick reflexes saved him from that embarrassing fate. Sam didn't bother to hide his smirk at the pinwheel motions his brother's arms mimicked in an attempt to regain balance. When the two front legs of the chair crashed down on the floor and both of Dean's feet were solidly planted on the ground, he looked up at Sam. "Shit, I didn't even see you over there!"
"I noticed."
"Yeah, well warn a guy next time."
"Whatever you say, Dean." It must have been a pretty good movie, since it wasn't often that he got the jump on his brother. "So?"
Dean gave him a confused look. "What?"
"What are you doing?" Sam repeated his earlier question.
"Oh uh… Just doing some research, you know," Dean said, tapping the keyboard once. The music stopped.
"Really," Sam said, not believing his brother's weak lie for a second.
"Yeah, that's what I just said."
Sam raised his eyebrows. First his brother lied to him, and now he sounded almost defensive. Curiosity peaked, Sam came up behind Dean to look over his shoulder, but his brother only angled the computer screen away.
"Are you watching anime porn again?" That would certainly explain why his brother had been so focused.
"No. And that's not all I watch," Dean retorted indignantly.
"Then why are you so afraid of letting me see whatever it is?"
"I am not afraid! I told you, it's research. It really isn't all that interesting." Dean cradled the laptop protectively in his arms.
Sam rolled his eyes, snatching the device from Dean's arms. One hand fended off Dean's attempts at retrieval; the other kept the device from crashing onto the concrete while he peered at the screen. He frowned at the blonde girl frozen there, caught in the midst of running through a cemetery at night. In front of her was a creature with a prominent, ridged brow and fangs leaping over a headstone.
He looked back at Dean. "Buffy the Vampire Slayer? You realize we fight real vampires, right?"
Dean stopped struggling, apparently no longer seeing the point now that his secret had been exposed. "I admit her methods aren't exactly orthodox—"
"Orthodox, Dean? She stabs them with a wooden stake and they burst into dust."
"But she's the Slayer. Get this—" Dean cleared his throat, "into each generation, a slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness, to stop the spread of their evil and—"
"You're not serious," Sam interrupted before Dean could finish, earning himself an annoyed look from the latter. "Am I going to have to take away your video privileges?"
Dean began to protest. "Come on! It's a hot chick kicking monster ass. Doesn't that do anything for you?"
"No… because we fight real monsters on a daily basis. We don't need to watch some ex-cheerleader killing fake ones." Dean's only reaction was to stare at him. "What?"
"How do you know she was a cheerleader?" Dean asked.
Sam could have smacked himself. He mentally scrambled for an explanation. "Well, she was doing all these flips—I just assumed she was a cheerleader… because they do flips…"
There was an amused smile on Dean's lips. There wasn't even any doubt in Sam's mind that it was at his expense.
"But Sammy, the video is paused. Buffy's not doing anything right now except chasing down a vamp."
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Belatedly, he realized he shouldn't have been judging Dean's fibbing skills when his own were evidently just as bad. He tried again, but was saved having to answer as the front door slamming shut announced Kevin's entrance.
The boy came down the stairs, looking haggard—which had become his default appearance lately. He didn't say a word to either Sam or Dean as he slowly shuffled past. It wasn't until Sam saw Kevin glance at the computer that the boy finally seemed to show some interest in the world.
"Oh, it's Buffy," Kevin said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Sam tried to engage the boy, get a bit of light back into those flat eyes. "You know, Kevin, if you'd like, you could take the DVDs and watch some episodes. Take a break from the tablet." He shot his brother a look that told him he'd better not argue.
Dean held up his hands in silent surrender. "Yeah, why don't you do that? Hell, take the computer too. I was done with it anyway."
There was a slightly sullen quality to his brother's tone, but Sam was glad that Dean was at least going along with him on this.
Kevin's eyes didn't move from the screen, as if considering their suggestion. "I used to love Buffy," he said at last. "You know, back when I had a life and monsters were pretend. But then I got hit by magical lightning and everything went to hell—literally. But don't worry about me. Feel free to continue flaunting my old life in my face."
Sam exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Dean, then turned to stare at the despondent teenager leaving the area, probably retreating to his room.
"So uh… Does this mean I get that back now?" Dean asked, indicating the laptop.
When Kevin disappeared out the other side, Sam turned around and walked away as well. He headed for the kitchen, the device closed and tucked under his arm.
"At least let me finish the season!" Dean called after him, his voice pleading. "Sammy!"