Title: Moonlight Meetings

Summary: AU fic - season one of SPN has happened until "Dead Man's Blood", but Sam & Dean, and John have separated. Seasons one til 3 of Buffy have happened, and Angel has been gone for about 6 months. Season 4 hasn't taken place other than Buffy & Willow being at university, and Xander living in his parent's basement.

Dean and Sam are sent to Sunnydale, but they don't know why. Buffy has her own problems to deal with, and doesn't take lightly to two rogue demon hunters turning up on her turf. Eventually DeanBuffy & SamFaith

Disclaimer: Nope, I own the 1st season, I did own a Winchester shotgun (Man, I didn't want to sell it, but life goes on…), but not the Winchester boys… I can pray though!

A/N: Again, this isn't actually my fanfic, but if you review I know Queen of the Carribean writes it faster (hint)


Dean stood watching as the few teenagers filed into the classroom. He sighed, shaking his head, then wincing at the effect that had on the back of his neck. The boxing session that morning hadn't been anywhere near enough tension relief, he really need to hustle… Or find a cute blond.

There were one or two good looking girls walking through the door, and Dean absently gave them a grin. Ok, so he was distracted by the whole idea of actually, sort of, teaching a class. But he could sure as hell still acknowledge a pretty face when he saw it, and boy was he seeing it.

There were only a couple of minutes until the class started, so he turned and pulled down the projector screen. Hopefully, he thought wryly, this slideshow would scare most of the students into never coming back. College bitches.

He looked up as two girls walked into the room, "You two – hit the lights before you take your seats," he stated, noticing as the redhead of the pair jumped. The other one, a blonde, looked awfully familiar, and it didn't take long to place her as the blonde from the gym earlier that morning. Great, he thought with a glance towards the heavens, now I have sarcasm to deal with as well… Why do you hate me so? Demons? fine. Vampires? Toast. PSMing college chicks? Hell no!

He glanced around the class, watching out of the corner of his eye as the blonde took her seat while the redhead found the lights. The blonde sat down next to a very familiar face – Sammy! What was he doing in this class? It had been Sammy who'd said he wanted a short break from anything paranormal, and so Dean had figured that this was the safest class to sub in… The least likely for Sammy to find out about….

It was so like his brother to unconsciously be a little… Difficult…

Thankfully, Sammy didn't look up until after the lights were off. Dean guessed that his brother would recognise his voice, but figured he'd continue as planned instead of taking the coward's way out and exiting the building. God, he'd never live it down if Sammy caught him running through the nearest exit!

It would be worse then ripping a beer bottle from his hand or having his ape collection replaced with Whitney Houston, Cher and newest 'hits' of Madonna.

He took a deep, deep breath, switching the slideshow on. It had taken him almost half the night before to figure out how the damn thing actually worked, but once he'd understood it, he'd spent the other half of the night fiddling with it. Damn, it was addictive.

The screen flickered into life with pictures of Aztecan artefacts, plus the supposed ways they were implemented. Of course, there were several that Dean and Sam knew different about, but it was 'common knowledge' to the modern world that only few of the known Aztecan artefacts were torture devices.

Most of the students sat quietly through the first bit of the slideshow, but when it turned gruesome a.k.a pictures of sacrifices, actual remains of the sacrificed slaves, the tools of the trade, a lot turned away. Several went as far as making gagging noises, and one girl… One of the pretty ones he'd smiled at, he realised… Actually went as far as running from the room, her hand clasped firmly over her mouth!

Talk about a lightweight.

The slideshow finished with depictions of the Gods, many of which were very true to form. Still in the dark, Dean turned off the music he'd found to accompany the slideshow, but left the images flicking through. He could barely make out Sammy's head above the others near the back of the room, and knew that he was about to be found out.

"The Aztecs were considered highly advanced for the era in which they lived. Yet most of their rituals and traditions were based on common fears of the unknown." Dean started. He could see Sammy's outline perk up a little at the sound of his voice, but he continued, his voice surprisingly stronger than he thought it would have been.

In actual fact, by the time he moved to switch on the lights again, he wasn't even worried about the fact his brother was in 'his' class. He went with the flow, throwing in the textbook facts along with the lesser-known facts that only hunters really knew. But the one thing he couldn't block out was the gaze of the blonde girl.

He made himself comfortable by leaning against the edge of the desk, his hand spread out flat upon the desk and his legs flat out as he had a cocky grin on his face.

He wondered hopefully if he could make someone scream or cry.

"Self-sacrifice was also quite common; people would offer maguey thorns, tainted with their own blood, and Maya kings would offer blood from their tongue, ear lobes, or their penis. Blood held a central place in Mesoamerican cultures; in one of the creation myths, Quetzalcoatl would offer blood extracted from a wound in his own penis to give life to humanity…"

The sounds of the class squirming in their seats brought a slight smile to his face, he continued on trying to find a way to top that. "In Aztec mythology, the Cihuateteo were the spirits of human women who died in childbirth. Childbirth was considered a form of battle, and its victims were honoured as fallen warriors. Their physical remains were thought to strengthen soldiers in battle while their spirits became the much-feared Cihuateteo who accompanied the setting sun in the west. They also haunted crossroads at night, stealing children and causing sicknesses, especially seizures and madness, and seducing men to sexual misbehaviour. I suppose they were similar to the White Women in modern day society."

Dean silently heard a voice going 'your mommy doesn't love you'… A particularly favoured chant he had been teased with when he was younger, and then he thought of having a mother like Constance Welsh. Dean still got cold chills as he thought of the damage to his car; he was so sure there had been a dent on his baby after that evil bitch.


Sam had walked into the classroom, feeling a little apprehensive. It was the only class he had that he was sharing with Willow and Buffy, he was getting the feeling that they were keeping an eye on him. Considering that neither had mentioned before lunch that they were taking the class. It would have been a worse feeling, but he and Dean still didn't even know what job they were meant to be doing. They had their co-ordinates, but there were that many strange happenings in the town it was a little confusing. The night before, they'd figured their father wouldn't have sent them here for the small stuff, but for something bigger. The problem was that nothing seemed to fit any pattern. Werewolves, vampires and demons just seemed to be random sights around the town.

The teacher had been standing with his back to the class, fiddling with something, and something in the way he was standing made Sam think that maybe he was familiar. He shrugged it off, telling himself that he was imaging things… That he was too unused to having time off from the job to be able to look at people normally, plus he was really feeling like he needed a mixture of hunting and normal. Maybe he was imagining a balance.

Willow and Buffy walked into the classroom at the same time; walking with the same feet… It was kind of creepy, like those kids that the White Woman had that linked hands… It made Sam still shiver when he thought about it. The teacher snapped at Willow to turn off the lights, Sam wouldn't have called it asking; in fact he was beginning to wonder about this teacher. Sam then motioned getting the girls' attention to where he was sitting.

Sam kept his eyes on Buffy as she walked up the stairs towards him, looking for anything in her body language that might explain he funny feeling he was getting about her. Moments later, the room fell into darkness, and Willow joined the two. "Told you he was a bastard!" Laughed Buffy quietly. Sam nodded in agreement, and settled back as the slideshow began to play.

It was during some of the pictures that first started make him question his sanity as he started to realise who the teacher was, and why he seemed so familiar… Some of those images could only be found on his laptop…. So when the 'teacher' began to speak, he sat up straighter to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. It was Dean!

"Uh, Buffy," Sam whispered as the lights switched back on. "You're not going to believe this…"

Buffy looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah? Try me." Sam shook his head, "You remember when I said I had a brother who came across as a bit of a bastard sometimes?" Buffy nodded, "Yeah, I remember. You said something at lunch about you two staying in a place near the edge of town."

Sam nodded, "Uh, yeah… That teacher… That's my brother…" The look on the blonde girl's face would have been comical in any other situation, but as it was, Sam felt a little guilty about making her feel so bad. But, he rationalised, he hadn't actually known what Dean had been planning to do with his time off.

Oh, Nair was going to have nothing on what Sammy (Sam) Winchester was planning to do to his bastard of a brother.


The graveyard was dark, but there was enough light to see, strangely. The moon and stars were invisible, as if someone had snatched them from the sky so she wouldn't be able to see where she was going… Or where she had come from. The dark haired girl walked forwards, trying to figure out why she was there. A thought occurred to her, and she stopped. What was the point in trying to work out why she was in a graveyard, when she didn't even know who she was?

She turned and looked behind her, searching for clues she may have left behind. She turned and screamed as she saw a face, it was grotesque and mutated. Skin was wrinkling and the teeth were sharp and pointy pulled into what she thought might have been a smile. She screamed and moved back, tethering on the edge of a grave before falling in and having a few clumps of dirt falling into her mouth and she coughed and gagged. Realising if she didn't get out soon she would be trapped, she scrambled up the damp and musky dirt walls only to find the nightmarish monster was gone.

She shuddered and took a few steps away from the dark prison cell, brushing off the dirt as she went and almost running smack bang into a person standing in front of her. She glanced up, her face going pale, before a hand seemed to drop out of the sky and stop inches from her chest. Glancing down, she saw the wooden end of a stake protruding from her chest, and she knew that was it, the end.

But then the landscape changed, and she was standing on top of a building. The same figure was in front of her, only she wasn't holding a stake this time. She was holding a knife, a wicked-looking silver blade. The figure (the girl), she supposed, stepped forwards and slid the killing end into her stomach. She stepped, staggered, back, and barely asked the one question she'd been dying to all along… "Why?"

The girl, and now she was in the light it was easy to see she was a slight blonde girl, someone she knew but couldn't place… "Because it's almost time for you to wake up… Think of this a wake up call."


Dr. Jackson stood looking at the signals on the machines, the beeps and blips that most people couldn't even figure out. They appeared to be back to normal, but how could anyone be sure of that now? Perhaps it was the poor girl's 'last wind', and she'd soon drift away? Perhaps it meant she was recovering… as unlikely as that seemed. The girl had been a fighter for almost all the time she had been within the walls of the hospital, one of the few patients whose room was completely bare of any well-wishers and signs of love. And at the age of 45 with no family and very few friends he could sympathise, even if she was years younger and of unknown background.

The nurses had alerted him of the girl's condition not five minutes before. This being the first sign of life the brunette had showed since she'd come under his care some months ago, being found in the back of a truck of all places. It was surprising. But not alarming, for the machines to behave so erratically, mirroring the girl's vital signs. He supposed the girl had had some fight in her when she was… Conscious, he supplemented with a grimace. After all, she was still technically alive. It was only fitting that she goes down with a last fight. So he waited to see how long it would take for her to die. He figured it was only right that someone be there with her when the time came.

Three hours later, he supposed that perhaps she wasn't going to pass on after all. Her signs were getting stronger, and he had a reason to suspect that she would survive without the life support. Best to be careful though, he thought, and walked silently from the room. In her coma, Faith stirred, and smiled.

It was time to wake up.