Present Day

Sam leaned out of the rental car he'd gotten for their cross country trip, working out the stiffness in his legs. He cursed under his breath at himself, wondering for the hundredth time why he hadn't just let Buffy drive.

His mind caught on the one time he'd let her and groaned, his legs would be screaming at him soon for all this abuse. But the girl was a wild-ling behind the wheel! Suddenly stop signs were simply a suggestion and speed limits were what she made them. He feared for all their lives when an eighteen-wheeler nearly t-boned them in Arizona a day ago.

He hadn't let her back in the driver's seat since, chuffing all the while at her like she'd been the one to refuse to put the pedal to the metal. She had merely beamed a thousand watt smile at him and sidled into the passenger seat quietly. Cars and Buffy rarely mixed for a reason, she'd said casually. "Besides," she admitted, "My license was never really something I legally obtained." Her maddening smile only grew as she used air quotes around the word 'license', as if it was merely a mortal formality she never could understand.

He had to admit he wasn't used to all this driving. Dean did more than his fair share and for some reason he missed the casually constructed ass prints in the Impala that had molded around the Winchester brother's over the years. This rental was standard issue and got the job done, but he really wished they had simply flown over. Again, Buffy had blanched at the idea, having never been on a plane before. She was worse than Dean with his fear of flying.

She'd pointed to the ground, twisting her feet on the pavement of her driveway, "Humans were meant to stay right down here. I ain't pushing the last shred of luck I have taking to the skies. Slayers don't have wings for a reason…" She paused and flashed him a devilish grin while stomping on the gravel beneath her before finishing, "Probably because we belong below it."

Sam smirked at the thought of them both having the essence of a demon inside them. He saw its influence in himself every time he glanced at the mirror, but Buffy? She rarely let her demons show. He had only ever seen them surface once or twice, and it scared a small part of him to see her like that. They were more alike than he ever could admit, because if she ever felt half of what he felt at times, then they had a bumpy road ahead of them. He cast a dark glance at her that she somehow caught and returned.

"What?" She asked suddenly, noticing his grim countenance.

When he remained silent, she pressed, "What is it Sam Winchester? You will tell me or I am driving the entire way home as your punishment." Buffy dropped the luggage she had been extracting from the back seat in a huff and planted her hands at her hips, quirking a brow at him in serious question. Could she be any more adorable when she was being stern? No wonder vampires never took her seriously when she was threatening them.

Sam circled over around to her and swept her up in a hug. She melted under him after a second, conforming to the mold he set over her frame. When he pulled back he found the depth of her green eyes and sank into them.

Some things there are no words for. He spoke softly into her mind.

And in this moment…? She prompted.

This moment is one of those things. He answered.

With a small kiss that should've signaled her closing of the subject but left him with the feeling that her interrogation had only just begun, he trailed after her indignantly. He didn't want her thinking he was anything less than ecstatic to be with her, because the largest and truest part of him was. But they'd been on a sort of honeymoon faze ever since they all returned from Hell a second time, and this case was the real world clawing at them for another go at splitting them up. He was never more aware that their jobs held them in constant limbo between happiness and torment. But he wasn't ready to explain that to her yet, not when he wasn't sure there were any words that wouldn't make it seem like he was being selfish for wanting more than this life of service he'd signed onto years ago.

Buffy lugged the heavy bags to the second floor of the only motel in town as Sam squared things away at the front desk. He asked around about Dean but the girl at the front desk didn't seem to know what he was talking about. She was just filling-in for her father who was ill today she'd snapped. Sam left it at that for now. He knew they were in the right spot. Willow had proved indispensable yet again, using both her tech-savvy-ness (pin-pointing the location of Dean's last call made to them) and her witchy-ways (scrying to make sure she hit the nail on the head with her hacking) to get an exact location on where Dean had last been.

It'd led them to a largely rural area in northern Vermont just outside of a wooded area labeled Snowden Forest on the map. It existed within a small township that the locals said should've been part of Franklin county but was far enough north that half the residents called it Canada's problem and waved off any ghost stories like hapless superstition.

Sam frowned as he watched Buffy fret over where her belongings would go inside the motel. Her hands adjusted the items- a hairbrush, tissue box, an alarm clock, and a bottle of water- on the bedside table, pushing them to and fro and chewing her bottom lip in question of her own adjustments. She always did this, packed like a tornado was coming and unpacked with the care of a rigid army official who was mentally abused in boot camp into folding the sheets of the bed seem for seem into place. He tried not to shake his head at her worrying behavior.

A second later he had his laptop out and was hacking into the motel's front desk computer. When Buffy was done with her strange display of OCD she joined Sam at the small round table by the window. She leaned over his shoulder and, as always, his skin started humming at her closeness.

"How goes it?" she asked brightly.

He finished skirting around the weak firewall in place and instantly his screen reflected what the front desk computers did. Like a mirror image he would now see everything the main computer was doing and could navigate accordingly in secret as well. His fingers danced over the keyboard and the register of everyone booked at the motel sprung up.

Luck or what-have-you was on their side it seemed, only 5 rooms were currently occupied, themselves included.

Sam started rattling off what he was doing step-by-step for Buffy's benefit. He actually found himself enjoying sharing this part of who he was with her. More so because she actually seemed interested. If Dean was here right now he'd be boots up on the table swigging a beer and calling him a nerd.

"This is us," he said, and pointed to their registered fake names; Mr. and Mrs. Chester. Buffy had laughed at Sam's earlier suggestion to go off the grid completely and assume different identities.

"Who is it that we are hiding from?" She mocked looking about as if some ghost from the shadows would appear at any moment and drag them off kicking and screaming. "I mean, is there even anyone chasing us?" Suddenly her eyes had grown bright and she'd suggested they hide in plain sight by keeping their real names but swapping for some damned awesome fun. "I'll be Winifred Chester and you can call me Wini for short! Or just plain ole' Win. Get it? Win Chester." She winked at him and playfully punched him in the driving arm.

"You can be Buff." She concluded when he asked what name he was supposed to use.

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Buff?"

"Yeah," she goaded, "Buff E. Chester. Your middle name is obviously something extremely stupid, like Eugene so you only use your middle initial of out shame."

Sam raised his brows in a teasing gesture. "Is that the only part of my name I'm supposed to be embarrassed about?"

Her second punch to his driving arm hadn't been as playful as the first.

Buffy leaned in closer to the screen and digested the other four names on the registry. "Two are girls names on the bookings and he is travelling alone, so….nay on those…" Her voice trailed off and suddenly a look of dawning came over her face and she snapped her fingers in a eureka moment. "Unless! Oh, unless he travels alone as a woman…incognito extraordinaire! He'd make a pretty woman, a bit tall, but with those legs, I'm sure he'd pass with flying colors."

Sam grinned but for his brother's sake quickly stuffed his smile behind a placid mask. "That man would sacrifice anything for the job, but ask him to shove his dignity out the back door and he'd only chase it screaming into the night."

Buffy went at her bottom lip again, chewing in mock serious thought. "So this is a 50/50 shot we have here. There are only two guys registered at the lovely Franklin County Motel. We gonna go knock on these doors and get this settled? Or did you want me to conjure up some more mental pictures of your brother cross-dressing undercover Bosom Buddies style….woah…okay….now I had a mental image of my own as you in an 80's frock Tom Hanks style. 'Just call me Buff E., Hildegard!"" She mocked and burst out laughing as he tried to cast her a scowl but it just ended up a wild grin.

She had that effect on him. Her joy was his joy. Her despair, his…

He captured her chin and brought it down to meet his lips. She met him half-way and turned gracefully, falling across his legs. He cradled her closer to him as he deepened the kiss. She wriggled her bottom in his lap and he stiffened at the action. The little temptress! When he was finally able to come up for air, he deposited her on the floor and grabbed for his flannel jacket off the bed where he'd tossed it on the way in.

"Okay beautiful, let's go stir some things up out there before I forget why we are here…" His voice had grown rough and her gaze sparkled on his mischievously before nodding and peering at the laptop screen one last time. She froze mid-way her scan of the occupants list.

"Room 314…Alice Dennings…" she muttered as if to herself.

Sam came to stand near her, a question in his eyes. She met his gaze and a question appeared between them she looked as if she wanted to answer. He waited for it to surface, all the while sure not to pry.

"That number and me…we have a history..." She trailed off ominously. Instantly she brightened, flashing him a wide smile. "It's probably nothing."

He nodded, craving more from her. But when she headed for the door shrugging her own black leather coat over her small frame, he realized this was one of those inquisitive battles he wouldn't win with Buffy. But right here, right now, it didn't matter.

As long as he was on the road to winning the war within her….he would wait for every answer she was willing to share. No matter how long it took.

As for tonight, they had a few questions to ask of their own. Whoever his brother was disguised as, he'd get to the bottom of it, and soon.

One battle at a time…