AUTHOR: Reptile Tongue (formerly known as Britt or medicated genius. Reptile Tongue is going to officially my penname)
TITLE: Can A Nightmare Turn Into A Dream?
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Supernatural Season 1 but more specifically episode 14 (Nightmare)
SUMMARY: What if that guy, Max, had a younger sister named Buffy? The story starts off after their father dies. What is Buffy's reaction when she sees two really good looking priests at her door?
WARNING: Violence and strong language.
DISCLAIMER: NOTHING IS MINE!
CHALLENGE: Take an episode from Supernatural and change it to fit Buffy into the picture. Stick as close as you can to the episode. And make it Buffy/Dean!
Chapter 2
"This has got to be a whole new low for us…"
Dean gave Sam his typical smirk, then both turned their gaze to the now opened door. Suddenly, air was shot out of Dean's lungs in what felt like a fast and hard punch.
The greenest eyes Dean has ever seen were staring up at both of them. For a moment, they seemed to be filled with such life and curiosity that it made Dean's heart sing. But then, just as quickly, as the fire flamed, it extinguished and reminded Dean of why they were originally there.
"Y-yes? Can I help you, fathers?" the small blonde asked.
Sam nudged Dean but saw that Dean was having trouble finding his tongue. Sam cleared his throat and looked at the young woman kindly.
"Um yes... I am Father Freely and this is Father Simmons. We are both very sorry for your loss. May we come in?"
Embarrassed at not thinking of inviting them in sooner, Buffy bowed her head and widened the door. After they entered, both with eyes solely fixed on her, she closed the door and awkward silence filled the hallway. Dean wanted to hear her voice again and he muddled through his mind on what he could possibly say.
"It's in difficult times like these when the lord's guidance is most needed-"
"Look, I don't mean any offense or anything but nothing you can say at this moment is really going to help me feel better. You wanna pitch your whole 'lord has a plan thing', fine. But I suggest you try that mojo on someone else."
"Buffy!"
All three in the hallway turned to a blonde attractive woman who seemed to have a resemblance towards Buffy. She walked over to Buffy and gave her a look only a parent could give.
"I'm sorry about my daughter, Buffy. But as can be expected, we're just all upset over Jim's d-death."
Buffy looked up to her mother, laid a hand on her back and rubbed lightly. It was very obvious to both Sam and Dean that this family had a LONG way to go.
"Would you both like to sit down? Buffy, why don't you get them some coffee?"
Buffy blushed at snapping and kept her head down as she nodded and walked to the kitchen to get the coffee.
"Don't worry Mrs. Miller. We are not offended."
"If anything we admire spunk in a kid."
"Oh, she's not a kid. Buffy's always looked young for her age, but she is almost finishing high school. They grow up so fast…."
Sam sensed the woman's sudden feeling of overwhelming pain and offered for all three of them to sit on the couch.
Sam looked over the mother and understood the pain she was feeling. The loss of losing someone so immediate in the family was a very long process, and Sam started to wonder if his brother and he were ever going to get over the loss of their mother. Revenge is something that only can fix the pain for so long…
Buffy then came in, smiling slightly as she was carrying a tray. Dean saw her, and wanted to be polite, so he basically sprang up to help her set everything down. But in his eagerness, he accidentally pushed the tray out of Buffy's fingers. When everything came crashing down, Buffy watched the cups fall slowly to the floor and spread into little pieces. Staring at the floor, she watched as the coffee spread across the wooden planks…
--Flashback--
Screams of pain erupted throughout the house from the next room. They were not hers. It was promised that they would never be hers…
But she still couldn't watch as Max was getting another beating. She had ceased trying to stop her father a long time ago… When threatened that she would get the same treatment if she stepped in his way, Buffy moved away. She was only 5 years old at the time and her daddy has always been the scary thing that would haunt her dreams night and day, since she could open her eyes. This was what she grew up with…
She stayed in her room on her bed like a good little girl. Daddy told her that if she wanted to be a good little girl, she had to sit on that bed. Good little girls didn't interrupt daddy. Good little girls stayed in their room until they were called out.
Then, she jumped, when she heard something hit the wall that connected hers and Max's room. What set her blood cold, however, was the chilling silence after the loud thump.
"Stay on the bed... stay on the bed… stay on the bed..." Buffy tried to remind herself, but the seconds kept on ticking as she heard no movement.
What should she do? Should she check if Max is okay? What if daddy killed Max? What if daddy just decided to stop? Daddy would get very mad if she moved… But she had to know if Max was still okay.
She slowly put her hands on the bed and inched herself towards the edge. Seeing that her dad wasn't coming in to scream at her for moving, she got braver and unsteadily stepped on the ground.
Eyes wide, ready to spring to safety, she tip-toed for what seemed like hours to Max's room. She opened the door and her eyes, if it was possible, got even wider. Their mossy green depths filled with tears as she trailed the fast spreading blood on the hard wood floor. Her eyes laid on Max and she rushed to him.
"Max! Max! MAX, WAKE UP!"
Not even realizing that her dad was standing off in a corner, Buffy kept trying to get Max to wake up. Eventually Max fluttered his eyes and started to panic, from the fear he had felt before losing consciousness.
"Buffy!? What are you-?"
He stopped when he saw his dad standing in the corner, watching them both. Buffy looked to where Max was looking and started at the sight of her father watching her.
"Daddy! I didn't mean to move-"
"Quiet Buffy!"
Buffy's eyes were now pouring tears from fear, but she was trying as hard as she could to contain herself from becoming hysterical…
"Buffy, go get the bandages from the bathroom."
Buffy didn't need to be told twice. She sprang from the room and got the medical supplies that were easily accessible for such situations. She wanted to hurry back to the room for she didn't want Max to be left for much longer.
Buffy yelled to her mother downstairs to come up. The usual routine. Buffy would sit on the bed in her room whenever Max and Dad were 'busy'. Buffy's mother would be downstairs trying to ignore what was going on in her house. If Max was very badly hurt to the point of needing the hospital, Buffy would tell her mother when to come up to help fix the damage. Somehow this unspoken pattern became the standard procedure.
Buffy passed her dad in the hallway, careful not to touch him, as she entered Max's room. Max was now crawling to his bed with what seemed a lot of pain and difficulty. Buffy looked at the wall and winced when she saw the dent. She assumed that was where Max's head collided into it..
Buffy headed over to Max to help him get up and into bed. Buffy has always been tiny. And the fact that she was 10 years old and her brother was 14 didn't help all the much for her to help get her brother to his bed.
"What did you do?"
Max looked at her with such pain in his eyes, Buffy couldn't move.
"I asked him how work was" Max then chuckled sarcastically, which led to him coughing up some blood.
Buffy set him down on the bed as well as she could.
"That's not funny. And don't talk if it hurts."
She turned away, so Max wouldn't see the look on her face, and walked to the door where her mother was standing.
"He's bleeding mostly from his head where it hit the wall, and there're lots of scrapes on his arms," Buffy said in a low whisper.
Buffy looked back to the floor where her brother lay unconscious and saw the pool of blood still spreading throughout the floor. Into the cracks. So red. So, so, so red.
"I'll go get the paper towels," Buffy said, almost hypnotized by the swirls of red settling into the wood.
Buffy started from her memory, when she saw her mother and the two Fathers staring at her.
"I'm so sorry! I'm going to go and get the… the… paper towels…"
Like a zombie, Buffy headed to the kitchen and took the paper towels from their usual place. It was funny how she needed them because she spilled coffee instead needing to clean up someone's blood. She stared at the paper towels as she slowly took a few sheets and divided them from the rest of the roll.
Mouth slightly open, lost in her own miserable world, she didn't even realize that somebody stepped into the kitchen until she felt a hand make contact with her shoulder.
Buffy gasped and clutched the paper towels to her heart as she spun around to see Father Simmons staring at her.
"Oh my god… in this house, you can't just sneak up on people like that!"
"Sorry! Jeez! Wait... What do you mean, 'in this house'?"
"Huh? Oh, uh… nothing. I'm sorry Father, I mean… nothing… absolutely nothing…" and she turned around so she wouldn't have to face him.
"You know, you can just call me Dean. Father is mainly used at the church."
Buffy turned back to Dean and smiled slightly.
"That's a nice name." Dean chuckled.
"Glad you think so. And Buffy kinda suits you, actually."
"Really? I always hated my name. Whenever I told people it, they'd crinkle their noses like there was a bad smell and ask me if I was joking. Sure, I like to joke about my name; I think it's a real riot." Then she rolled her eyes in a joking manner.
Dean burst out laughing.
"No, seriously. Buffy's a nice name. When you first hear it, it's kinda weird, but I think you're an interesting girl."
"Woman."
Dean didn't have a single doubt that this young woman standing in front of him was in fact much wiser beyond her years than she should be.
"I know I look young but I'm graduating from high school soon. Already 18."
"Congrats."
"Thank you…"
A slightly awkward silence swept over them, both wanting to say something but neither knew what.
"Why did you come in here?"
"What?"
"Why… why did you come in here? Are you looking for something?"
"Actually I came in cause you looked upset…"
"Nope. Everything's peachy."
"Oh really?"
Buffy looked pointedly at his face, that screamed 'I-don't-believe-you'.
"I actually get it."
"Get what?"
"What you're trying to do. Acting like you have it under control when deep down you're falling apart."
Buffy breathed in deep and batted her eyelashes to keep the tears from falling down.
"I don't mean to be blunt but you just lost someone. You can cry. You can scream." Dean kept walking closer to her until Buffy could see every single hue of green his eyes.
"You can show pain. Doesn't mean something bad's gonna happen if you do…"
Buffy was speechless. Never has she heard so few words mean so much. In this house, you hide everything. Cover what skeletons are hiding in your closet and pray to god that no one else knows. Dean somehow made sense. But it was easier said than done. Buffy didn't grow up like that. With this kind of openness that Dean was talking about. So naturally, she rejected it.
"You don't know what you're talking about." And with that, she left the room, body screaming and all to be that close to him again.
Buffy headed out to the living room again and saw that some of the guests were still there. She went to where the main couch where her mother and Father Freely were still talking.
"Buffy, dear. Are you all right?"
"Just fine, mom. I'll just clean this and be out of your hair.."
"You know, Buffy?"
"Yes, Father?"
"You can just call me Sam." And he gave her a very friendly smile.
"Alright, Sam."
"Would you care to talk to either me or Dean? I understand what a difficult time it is right now,"
"She told you didn't she?"
"Told me what?"
"That I was the one who…" Buffy trailed off.
Sam looked worried for a quick second then understood what she was hinting at.
"Yes, she did tell me that you were the one who found him."
Buffy quickly looked down and finished with the cleaning not looking back up at Sam or her mother. Taking a deep breath, she carried the stuff back into the kitchen, and was thankful that Dean was not still there. She didn't have any more energy to clean or to talk to guests. Leaving the pile of broken dishes on the counter, she slowly walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Hearing voices, she walked even quieter up the steps.
She couldn't hear anything specific as she walked closer. Dean was talking to the other Father but then he spotted her and stopped talking.
"What are you two doing up here?"
"Ummm… uh… we were just… wondering if you had a guest room."
"What? Why?"
Dean looked like he was about to ask the same thing but he held his tongue waiting for Sam to explain the reasoning of this cover up.
"Well because Dean and I, as part of the church, want to help you out. To maybe stay with you for a couple of days, and make sure that everyone here gets back up on their feet."
"I have never heard of such a thing…"
"Well, it happens sometimes… and Dean and I… are… worried."
Buffy scrunched up her nose. Normally the idea of two strangers staying at her house would creep her out to the major extreme, but these two gave her a sense of familiarity… safety. What on earth her mother would say right now, she wasn't sure.
Practically seeing what was going on in her head, Dean added, "And of course, we'll discuss it with your mother."
Buffy was exhausted but she was willing to do one last thing before she crashed in her room.
"Alright… sure. We have a guest room. Do you guys want to share a bed or…"
"NO!"
Buffy smirked slightly at Dean's sudden response. Seeing him uneasy with what she was asking was sort of hilarious. But the question was definitely on her mind, considering he was a nummy treat and he and Sam seemed interestingly close.
"I mean… no. No we would like maybe another sleeping bag or something."
Buffy nodded slowly and smirked as she turned around and headed back downstairs to ask her mother.
BUFFYDEANBUFFYDEANBUFFYDEANBUFFYDEANBUFFYDEANBUFFY
When Buffy was out of sight, Dean turned on Sam.
"Sam! What the hell!? Why are we staying here!??"
"Dean, there is something you need to know about Buffy."
"What?"
"Dean, Buffy was the one who found him… her dad…"
"Not that I don't feel terribly depressed already, but what does this have to do with us staying here?"
"Something is off, Dean. Can't you feel it? This family has a secret. The way that Jim Miller died…"
"Yeah, this whole family is spooked.."
"What did you and Buffy talk about?"
Dean looked at Sam. He didn't want to betray Buffy's trust.
"Nothing. Just small stuff."
Sam looked at Dean then started to smile.
"What? Don't look at me like that."
"You like her."
"What?! I do not! And besides, we're getting off track here. What did you find out from Mrs. Miller?"
Sam looked at Dean but decided to leave it… for now.
"Okay, well Mrs. Miller said that Jim didn't have a history of depression. They also had a son, Max, who was downstairs but he barely said a word to me. Nothing useful. They bought this house recently and it's actually fairly new. No weird voices at night. No electrical shortages. So basically, no poltergeists or anything. What about you? Did you find anything while you were up here?"
"I'm telling you, man! Nothing! I'm still not so sure you interpreted your 'vision' right… There is nothing going on with the Millers. Just a normal everyday family, now with issues."
"But come on, Dean. You didn't see this vision. It was…" Then Sam heard walking on the stairs.
Both Dean and Sam turned to Buffy who was now accompanied by her mother.
"I'll go get the pillows and sheets. Buffy, could you find your sleeping bag?"
Buffy nodded and headed to her room.
Later that evening, Dean and Sam paid for the Chinese take out as they headed back to the house. The family had dinner with no talking. Buffy wasn't even able to try and lighten the mood. Dean and Sam sensed the family needed some time, so they didn't even try to cheer them up.
It was when everyone started going to bed that Buffy suddenly knew from deep down in her gut, that nothing in this family would ever be the same. Not even close.