Chapter 2: The Winter Soldier

*****Several Days Later*****

Buffy hung up the phone, stunned. Steve noticed her expression.

"You okay? Bad news?" he asked.

"No—just surprising. Willow and Tara got home not too long ago and got a surprise visit from Thor's dad and Loki," she said.

"Loki? Loki's in town?" Steve asked in concern.

"He's on his daddy's leash, I'm assuming. Xander just told me that the All-Father passed out some gifts as a thank you for Willow and Tara being big heroes when they were in Asgard," Buffy shared.

"Gifts? What kind?" Steve wondered.

"The best kind. Spike was given a soul, Xander was empowered somehow, and Willow and Tara will be going to New York," Buffy shared. "The All-Father said that the darkness of the hellmouth will never allow Willow to flourish. The girls are looking into Columbia or NYU for the fall."

"Contact Tony. He can take care of it," Steve said.

"Xander also says that we now have a crap load of money because Pepper shook down the Council to finally pay us!" Buffy said excitedly. "I can buy a house for all my shoes! Or rather the shoes I'm going to buy!"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. Buffy was so different from Faith. There was a flash of pain that he'd sometimes see in her eyes, or she'd get this far away look like she was somewhere else—maybe heaven. For the most part, she seemed to be happy and much more settled than Faith. Faith was like a caged tiger. However, he hadn't fought with her like he had Faith, so he couldn't really assess her. Their personalities, though, were night and day. Faith was all sex and innuendo with flashes of vulnerability, never backing down—even eager—from a fight. Buffy, in contrast, appeared vulnerable and helpless most of the time. Then a look of steel would come over, reminding him that she was a seasoned fighter. Ironically, she had more fighting experience than he did—probably more than all the Avengers. Clint had served the longest, but he didn't fight nightly for five years.

Buffy was finding Steve a good companion. He told fascinating stories of his time in the War. For Buffy, she couldn't image living through a real war with bullets flying and things getting blown up. Sure, she'd blown up a Judge and a school, but this guy had seen war—the worst kind. The kind that killed tens of thousands. Because she was a slayer, she had an innate connection to history because of her dreams. There had been more than one slayer involved in wars, but they weren't in front of her, fighting with her. Of course, there hadn't been much fighting the past week. Sure, the occasional vamp crossed their paths, but that hadn't been much of a challenge.

"So Michigan, huh?" Buffy said as they crossed into the state. Steve was driving a black Range Rover. They spent two days scouting all the old haunts from Steve's childhood and memories with Bucky. Then they expanded to New Jersey. Then last night, something occurred to Steve.

"He had an uncle that lived here. The uncle is dead, but there might be a relative of some kind," Steve shared.

Over the past few days, Buffy had heard so many Bucky stories from Steve. She felt like she knew this man—at least the man from Steve's childhood. What Hydra had done to him was inhumane. Buffy suspected that Hydra had more than one connection to the demonic community. It took someone nearly soulless to do what was done to that poor guy.

Natasha had given Steven an address. Buffy didn't think she was helping Steve much. Nat could easily do what Buffy was doing, but Clint had convinced them that Buffy was the best person to help Steve. She hoped this new location would pan out because she needed to get back to Iowa to her class. Spring break was over in two days.

Steve pulled down a long driveway. The uncle's house was outside of the city limit of Flint. They got out of the car. "So you going to do the talkin' while I stand next to you lookin' all cute and harmless?" Buffy asked with a grin, popping her bubble gum.

Steve chuckled. "Sometimes it's hard to believe that creatures of darkness fear you more than they do me," he said in amusement. She gave him a cheeky wink. The same action from Faith would not be nearly as guileless.

"Well, I spent several years beatin' and killin' them and their kind, so they know who I am. Eventually, I'm sure you'll put fear in them, too," she assured him even though she didn't think so.

Steve was good at reading people and knew she wasn't quite sure of that statement. "Do you really think so?" he asked, wanting to see how honest she'd be.

She hesitated a moment before shaking her head. "No. They'll never really fear you—respect you, sure. Run from you, sometimes, but they won't really be that afraid," she said.

"Why is that?" Steve asked.

"You have no darkness in you," Buffy said simply. It was one of the things she found most attractive about him—not that she was physically attracted to him. However, his presence was so soothing that she felt relaxed with him very soon after they began their trip together. The slayer inside her almost felt protective toward him. The authenticity and goodness that was practically bleeding from his eyes made her want to preserve it. Willow and Tara had both had a bit of that when she'd met them. Now, though, Willow most definitely didn't. Tara, too, didn't have the level of wholesomeness that Steve possessed because she, too, had been touched by evil from her family and the hellmouth. Not even war, however, had darkened Steve's soul.

Steve stared at her a long moment. "You don't look very dark to me," he finally said.

"I'm the thing that demons fear," she said grimly, all trace of amusement gone from her face. "Death is my gift." Something flashed in her eyes that kept Steve from pushing further. He nodded and turned to walk up the sidewalk.

Buffy started to follow him and then stopped, sensing something. Eyes were on them, but she looked around and saw nothing. Turning, she walked to the side of the house and glanced around.

That's when she noticed a large barnlike structure a few yards away from the house. Going on instinct, she walked toward it. Cautious, she approached the building, searching for movement. There was none. She stood in the doorway—the inside was in shadows. Buffy moved forward, her eyes easily penetrating the darkness. However, someone stepped from the shadows to her left by the entrance. Before she could turn, strong arms were around her neck.

"I'll never go back," a rough voice whispered.

Buffy somehow knew. This was him. "It's okay, Bucky. We're friendlies," she told him as she moved quickly to fling him over her head.

The guy scrambled quickly, getting up to face her. "Who are you?" he demanded in an angry tone. Buffy was glad the light from the doorway was illuminating him somewhat. He had dark hair that was kind of long, hanging down from a center part.

Buffy moved toward him, wanting to get a closer look. "I'm Buffy. Buffy Summers. I'm a friend of Steve's, your best friend," she said.

"I have no friends," the man said coldly.

"You're Bucky Barnes, right?" she asked. She felt sure it was him, but she couldn't be completely certain. Then she stepped forward and saw the piercing blue of his eyes and knew it was him. The photos she had seen of him all had those eyes. Of course, the pictures all had him smiling, a carefree look about him. These eyes were cold as ice.

"A life time ago," he murmured. Yes, that was his name. The man had called him that and it had awoken something inside of the Winter Soldier. Flashes of memory kept haunting his dreams—there was this smiling scrawny kid and then the soldier. He didn't understand why his mind flashed between those two images so frequently. The confusion made him angry, so he glared menacingly at the small blonde woman. However, she seemed unaffected by his rage.

"Steve is here. He's a man out of time, too, and he wants to help you. He considers you family," Buffy said. "Let him help you."

"He can't help me. No one can," Bucky said bitterly.

Steve came into the building. "Bucky? Is that you?" he asked.

"You shouldn't have come," Bucky said angrily. As he stared at the taller man, a strong sense of familiarity hit him once again. This was the man from his dreams, his memories.

Steve moved to stand next to Buffy. "Of course, I came, Bucky. To the end of the line, remember?" Steve reminded him.

"The Bucky you knew is dead," he said flatly. He looked away as a memory of the man saying that to him came to him. To the end of the line, Bucky. Bucky was his name—somehow. What had happened to make him so messed up? Not knowing this made him feel both impotent and angry.

Steve stepped forward. "No, he's not. Bucky's not dead. He's standing right in front of me," he said firml.

Bucky stared at Steve, trying to think of how to proceed. A sharp pain in his head kept him from fleeing like his instincts were telling him.

When Bucky put his hand to his head, wincing, Buffy knew something was wrong since she recognized the look of pain. "Is your head hurting?" Buffy asked.

"Yes," he said. "It's always hurting. They did something to me. So many things. Something's wrong inside."

"That's why you need to come with us, so we can help you," Steve said.

"So you can lock me up? Think that'll help me?" he asked sharply.

"You gotta trust me, Bucky," Steve said. He was now standing directly in front of his friend. "Do you think after all you did for me my entire life that I would abandon you when you need me most? How many times did you keep me from a beating before the war? How many times did you protect me? You were my shield long before I was anyone else's. And I'll damn well be yours now. No one is going to hurt you again—I promise you that. They'll have to get through me first!"

Bucky stared into the face he knew better than his own. Into the eyes that had never changed no matter how the body transformed. The two images that haunted merged. Both were this man. His internal battle finally broke as something inside eased. This was Steve, his brother, his closest friend. Right now, he might be his savior.

Buffy was blown away by the scene in front of her. She didn't think she'd ever seen such naked emotion between two men. Bucky didn't say much, but his eyes—his eyes said everything. Something in them reached out to her, pulling her in.

She watched as Steve connected with Bucky with his words and then he put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Come with me, Bucky. Trust me again. I won't let you down," Steve said.

"Fine," Bucky finally said. "But it's going to mess your world up."

He wasn't wrong.

As soon as Steve made it back to New York with Bucky, a shit storm began.

*****To Be Continued*****

Short chapter, I know. More to come! Please review and let me know you care! Review and let me know what you'd like to see happen.