Author Notes: Anyone who knows me well knows that I love a good pun. I really wanted to title this chapter "Digging your own Grave," but I stopped myself. Anyways, let's move onto the next installment of Dean+Buffy's adventure.

Disclaimer: The Supernatural and Buffy the Vampire Slayer world and all characters depicted are a creation of Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon, respectively.

Cradle to Grave

By Hoshi-ni-Onegai

Buffy POV

"Anne!" I winced at the amount of gusto this girl put behind my alias.

I plastered on my best smile and turned around from the empty plates I returned from the table of five. "What's up Jaime?"

"I got you a date!" She squealed.

I raised a brow. "You lost me."

"We're going on a double date tonight." Her voice dialed down -which I was thankful for. "No need to thank me, I may have just gotten you laid."

I raised a brow, didn't realize I needed help. "Why are we going on a double? You could totally just single it out and have fun with the short one."

"He's not short." Jaime laughed. "And I don't care if he's FBI, he might be a complete weirdo. I rather have backup."

"I'm all of five foot three and one hundred and ten pounds, I'm not much back up." I mean, she didn't need to know the real truth.

"Hey, I've seen you carry twice as many beers than any other girl here." She pointed out.

I shrugged. "I didn't want to take multiple trips. That just makes me lazy."

"Come on, it'll be fun. Two hot murder-solving FBI agents, how often does that roll into town?" She persuaded me with a grin that shook me. It was one that I had seen Willow use when she wanted to talk me into something.

I sighed in defeat. "I still get the cute one right?"

"Definitely." She backed up to head to the bar. "Midnight, tonight."

I nodded and waved her away. Jaime reminded me of the girls I was friends with back in Hemery High. We probably would have been really good friends, but I had more important things to worry about. The latest apocalypse being one of them. When I went to go serve the table next to where Dean and Sam were, I shot them a glare. Sam looked apologetic. Dean looked smug. How the hell did I end up becoming someone's wingman?

Seven exhausting hours later, midnight rolled around and Jaime was practically tugging me out the door. I think she fully expected the brothers to be waiting, but instead we stood around for good fifteen minutes.

"Maybe we're getting stood up." I suggested. I have no idea how she has the energy for a date after being on her feet all day. All I wanted to do was crash on the cot back in the Winchester's hotel room. Sure, I wasn't going to get any sleep -same as last night- but at least I'd be off my feet.

"No way." She glanced at her watch. "Two good looking blondes, what g-man is going to pass that up?"

"Maybe they solved the case and skipped town and forgot about us." I offered.

She frowned at me. "I don't know what you're complaining about. You were all flirty with the other guy, giving out your number and everything."

"Not my real number." I shrugged. "I figured he needed an ego boost after the way you were drooling all over the Ken doll."

Jaime smiled shaking her head. "I was not drooling, and if I was -can you blame me?"

"Hence the reason why I needed to give Agent Angus my precious fake number. You were about to give the guy an inferiority complex." That's when I felt a strange sensation at the back of my neck, something was coming. I turned to look down the street, ready to face another monster that I needed to fight off. Instead, there in the dark streets stood... a weirdo.

"Good evening." The accent was exaggerated Hungarian. The guy was in full on Halloween vampire costume. I guess he decided to skip ahead a few weeks.

"Friend of yours?" I asked while I glanced over to Jaime who looked petrified. I guess not.

"I have watched you many nights from afar. My passions know no bounds. You are the reincarnation of my beloved," he spouts out in his ridiculous accent. "And I must have you."

I scrunched my face. "Ugh. That vampire cliché is really getting old. Watching people is super creepy, and I'm really not interested."

"Not you." He bit out and proceeded to ignore me. He swept his shiny polyester cape over his shoulders and extended a hand out to Jaime. "You, my darling. Come with me."

"Sorry buddy, but it's kinda my job to save damsels in distress." I reached into my jacket and whipped out Mr. Pointy, my companion from Hell and back.

He approached us, completely disregarding me and my very threatening sharpened stick. Maybe I should really rethink my weapon choice. As I readied my stake, Jaime rummaged through her purse and pulled out pepper spray. She went to town on his face when he approached.

"Mary, son of a..." The vampire wannabe yelled in agony.

Jaime tugged on my arm. "Let's go Anne!"

"Oh, we're running." I said dumbly as I shuffled along with her.

"Jaime!" I heard Dean yell from around the corner. When he caught sight of me he added, "Buffy?" Great, I was an afterthought.

Jaime wasn't able to slow down before crashing right into Dean. Sam came around the corner at that moment and I figured they got the panicked girl under control between the two of them. I pivoted on my foot to face the costumed weirdo. The guy hissed at me and my stake. That was more like it. If he wanted to dress like the movie vampire, he better start acting like one.

I landed a kick into his gut, which he folded into and grunted. The heck? This was no vampire. He wasn't even going all bumpy face on me. He barely composed himself and threw a punch at me, which was way too easy to evade. Did I come back as Slayer version 2.0? I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved my knee into his chin. He doubled over and fell to the ground. Maybe these guys were getting weaker.

Sam came up behind me and stopped at seeing the guy. "Is that who I think it is?"

I furrowed my brows and glanced up at him. "Who do you think it is?"

"Well, Dracula, obviously." He nudged the guy with his foot, but weirdo was out cold.

"That's not Dracula." I assured.

Dean joined us with Jaime still freaking out at her side. "You said he was real."

"That doesn't mean it's this guy. Dracula is a lot less hokey." I bent down and took hold of its cape and tied him off to immobilize him with it. Huh, that's kind of handy. All my villains should come with capes. I gripped him to heft him up when I felt something peel off. I immediately let him go and I was left with a chunk of skin and something slimy. "Eww."

"Dean look." I heard Sam say. I turned up at them to see if they knew what the hell was going on. Sam turned to his brother with a knowing look. "He's shedding."

"I swear, I don't think I hit him that hard." I stood up to face them. "He was all, 'I love you Jaime, blah. I watch you in your sleep, blah.' He was way too creepy to let loose on the streets."

Dean snorted a laugh. "Good thing you were here then."

"So what is he? He's not my kind of vampire." I twirled Mr. Pointy. "Should I stake him just in case? See if he goes poof?"

"Not unless that's made out of silver." Dean said. "And nothing goes poof. This isn't a Vegas magic show."

I glared at him. "Seriously? You're going to challenge me on vampire lore?"

"He's a shapeshifter." Sam interrupted before we could start arguing. I'm getting the feeling that the younger Winchester is the designated keeper of the peace.

"That's really not helpful." I wiped my slime covered palm on the supposed shapeshifter's cape. I hoisted him up and motioned for Sam to help. "So we need silver? Does the bar have anything we can use? Jaime?"

The girl was still shaken up and gripping Dean's shirt sleeve like it was lifeline. She took a steadying breath. "You three know each other?" She sounded miffed and shocked. Not exactly what I would have asked first, but to each her own.

"Jaime, focus." Dean commanded. "Bar. Silver. Is there any?"

She frowned. "I don't think so. It's not exactly upscale."

Sam nodded. "We have one in the Impala."

I punched the shapeshifter's head when I heard him stirring. I smiled at Jaime and Dean. "You two go off on your date. Sam and I will deal with this."

We left the two and clumsily balanced the Count between us. Sam was a full foot and a bit taller than me. This wasn't working out. Without much word, I grabbed hold of the unconscious Dracula and hefted him over my shoulder.

"This is much easier." I said and nodded to Sam. "Lead the way to your ride."

Sam looked at me worriedly. "Isn't he heavy?"

"Don't worry, I've lifted heavier." I walked steadily after him as we walked down the block. He kept glancing back at me every so often to make sure I didn't collapse form the weight or something. Maybe I should tell him about that time I helped Xander out in construction and carried steel beams? Nah. As it was, Sam probably thought I was freaky.

When we reached the Impala, he popped the trunk and opened the false bottom. I raised a brow at the arsenal. He rummaged through the trunk and whipped out a small knife. "This should do."

I dropped my cargo onto the ground with a thump. "Seems a little mean to stab him when he's down for the count."

"He's killed three people." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, but this seems like cold blood." I said. "Can we untie him and give him a head start or something?"

"What are you crazy?" I heard an indignant voice behind us.

Turning, we saw Dean coming toward us alone. I raised a brow at him. "What happened to Jaime?"

"I called her a cab home." He said.

"What happened to the devirgination?" Sam asked.

I let out a barked laugh. "What?"

Dean smirked. "Just a theory I had. Decided to put that on the backburner." He pointed to the shapeshifter. "We have a town to keep safe, and you want to let this thing go."

"Well, I haven't seen a shapeshifter in action. I'd at least like to see it... shift or something." I admitted. "We didn't have any of these in Sunnydale."

"That might take hours." He reached out his hand for Sam to give him the knife. "And it's not like he showed much mercy to his three victims."

I wasn't about to champion for the killer to go free, but I was an American girl that expected some due process before carrying out the sentence. "Don't you want to know why?" I asked.

Dean frowned at me. "Why what?"

"Why Count Chocula here did what he did?" I clarified. "Human or monster, they usually have a reason."

"Doesn't matter." He narrowed his eyes and turned toward the shapeshifter. "He killed people."

Then Dean stabbed the creature without a second thought.

Dean POV

"What's in Wyoming that you need so bad?" I tossed the question backward to Buffy in the back seat.

Glancing back in the rearview window, I could see that she made herself at home back there. She was stretched out on the entire length of the bench seat with her head leaning against the edge of the open window. Her eyes were closed and her blonde hair whipped around her while tresses of it danced out the window as we sped down the highway.

"Need to get back something that belongs to me." She answered with her eyes still closed.

"Did you get something stolen?" Sam turned slightly to look back at her from his place in the passenger seat.

Blinking her eyes open, she straightened up a bit and raked her fingers through her now tangled hair. "Not stolen. It's in safe keeping, but I need it back now."

"Can you give me something more precise than just Wyoming?" I asked as I drove us down the I-80. "Not sure if you know, but it's a pretty big state."

"South Wyoming." She said vaguely.

Sam laughed, "I guess that eliminates half the state."

"Fine." She huffed in good nature. I heard her rummaging back there for something, and then I heard some paper rumpling. "Giles gave me this map. Apparently there's a bunch of churches and railroad tracks. I need to get to the center of that."

I nearly drove off the side of the road at the description of her destination. Sam sounded as surprised as I felt. "At the Devil's Gate?"

"Giles called it that." She commented as she scanned the map for a bit and handed it over to Sam. "I was never great with directions. Maybe you can figure it out college boy."

"I already know where it is." I stressed as I gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. There were only so many reasons a person needed to get to the Devil's Gate. Personally, I couldn't think of a legitimate one. Maybe I shouldn't trust this girl. Because at the end of the day, what the hell did I know about her?

For the rest of the drive to Wyoming she only answered cryptically about what she needed to get. From what I gathered, it was an object. Even after we told her the devil's trap was not intact, she didn't seem to care.

It was night when we finally reached the first set of railroad tracks and breeched into the one hundred mile pentagram. As I drove us over the tracks, the Impala jolted us in our seats. The area around this place looked as dead as it did when we were here last year. The next fifty miles was spent in silence as we made our way to the cowboy cemetery. The gravel grinded underneath the car's wheels and the dead leaves crunched in our wake.

"Where?" I questioned as we pulled up to the graveyard.

She grabbed her bag and went for the door. "Did I see a shovel back there?"

Following her out and toward the back of the car, I popped the trunk. "Why do we need a shovel?"

"For its usual purpose." She slung one over her shoulder and grinned. "And I appreciate both of your help." Buffy led the way as she read some instructions on a piece of paper. "I may not know my way around Wyoming, but I can navigate a cemetery like no other."

I'm sure she would have been met with a few raised eyebrows with another crowd, but we've clocked way too many hours digging up graves to judge. She navigated the place pretty quickly and stopped at a headstone. This one was relatively new compared to the others that were at least a hundred years old.

Sam went around the stone and looked surprised to see what it said. "This is your grave."

Gesturing him to the side, Buffy stuck the shovel into the ground and shrugged. "Not much of a grave without a body, but I guess it's the thought that counts."

I glanced at the tombstone and read it aloud. "'Buffy Anne Summers, 1981-2003, Beloved Hero, She Saved The World A Lot... Again.' Does that make you twenty-two or twenty-seven now?"

Shoveling up the first pile of dirt from the grave she looked up at me. "Never really thought about it."

"Are you trying to shave off a few years Dean?" Sam asked while he tossed his jacket to me. He picked up the second shovel and also started digging.

"I was down for months, not years." I hefted myself on the headstone and watched them work.

Blondie shot me a look between digs. "Respect the dead a little will you? That's not a chair."

"Well, it's yours, and you're not dead." I patted the stone. "Wanna keep it?"

"I'm good. It's my second one. I don't really collect these things in my basement or something." She kept shoveling. "Now with Sunnydale gone, I guess I don't even have a basement to collect stuff in. I had a mean shoe collection going too."

"So you had a house?" Sam asked. To her, it probably sounded like polite conversation, but I knew better. Sam was always jealous of anyone with a real home, and he probably wanted to live vicariously through her experiences by hearing about them.

"Yup. 1630 Revello Drive. By the end, I lived there with my sister, seven of my closest friends, and way too many potential slayers to keep track of." She kept digging with the same gusto. "I was one big happy apocalypse fighting family."

I bit back a smirk at her description. It was obviously far off from what Sam wanted to hear. I know my brother, and what he wanted to hear was that she lived in the suburbs, had a dog, and a happy childhood. Instead, she housed evil-fighting soldiers.

"Was it always like that?" He inquired.

"No, not always." She paused for a beat, but kept digging. "I was called when I was fifteen."

"Called for what?" I asked this time.

"To be the slayer." She started to explain. Buffy proceeded to give what I would assume were the main bullet points of her life. Nothing overly personal, but enough to know that she had been a typical girl from LA until she was pulled into this messed up world of monsters. The winding road from expulsion, her parents divorcing, her mom dying, Buffy dying, and coming back was more than I expected. I've been doing this since I was kid, but next to her story I felt a bit like the rookie.

After about three feet I volunteered to switch with her, but she said it was her dig so she kept going. Instead, I switched with Sam -who was all too willing to take a break. Another three feet and we finally hit something. Wiping some of the dirt to the side, I saw the top of a simple pine box.

"They buried an empty box?" I remarked.

She shrugged with an inappropriate grin on her face. "Apparently it's part of the grieving process."

The fact that she seemed happy about her family and friends mourning her death was little too off putting. "We're not going to crack this thing open and find your body are we?"

"If I'm in there, how am I out here?" Her grin remained in place. "There's something in there that belongs to me."

Oh my God. It's going to be a heart isn't it? We're going to find a bloody bleeding heart in there.

Buffy gestured for me to hop out -which I was more than happy to do. The last thing I needed was to be ankle deep in bloody hearts. She swung the shovel up and slammed it back down onto the top of the box. The force she had behind it was stronger than I expected. The pine lid cracked and splintered. She tossed the shovel up out of the hole and dug her hands into the box.

Instead of the heart or other nefarious paraphernalia that I suspected, there was something shiny in the box. She chucked out pieces of the lid out, which we had to dodge in order to not get impaled.

"Watch it will you?" I barked out as one particularly large piece narrowly missed my head.

"Sorry." She answered offhandedly as she finally reached in for whatever she was digging for. Pulling out a sleek-looking silver and red axe, she stared at it in awe.

"An axe? That's what you were looking for?" Sam reiterated what was going through my head.

"That better be a magic silver axe that kills demons." I grumbled as I extended my hand out for her to take.

Taking my offer, I hefted her out of her own grave with axe and all. She really was light. Maybe it was years of lugging around Sam when he got injured, but Buffy was way too easy to pull out. How the hell was she this strong? Slayer or not, how was it physically possible that such a strong punch was packed into such a tiny package? Then again, that wasn't far off from how the monsters were.

Before my head could keep wandering, she dusted herself off and twirled the axe in her hand like it was a baton. "Oh, I missed you."

"You need a moment there?" I jibed at seeing how enamored she was with the thing.

"It's hard to explain, but it feels like it belongs to me." She led the way back to the car. "Or any slayer for that matter."

"Then why is it yours?" Sam walked beside her. "Aren't there hundreds of slayers out there now?"

"Yeah, but according to Giles, there was some intense power play to get at this thing." She explained. "So Faith suggested they hide it."

"Faith?" he repeated the name.

"She's the slayer who was called after the first time I died." When we reached the car she refused to put the axe in the back, like she needed to keep this thing by her side.

"Back in 2001?" I asked.

"No, I think that was in 1997, but don't quote me on that." She raced over to the passenger seat before Sam and gave a toothy smile. "Shotgun."

Sam just laughed and piled into the back. At least it was understood I would be driving.

"So that's it? Twenty-six hours of driving and we came for your toy?" I revved up the Impala and pulled us out of the cemetery.

"It's more than a toy." I glanced over to see her shinning the thing with her shirt sleeve. "This thing got me through the last apocalypse."

"Is it silver?"

"We're not melting it down." She said flatly. I could feel her narrowing her eyes at me. "What are you hunting for werewolves?"

"You can kill a lot more than just werewolves with silver." I tell her.

"Either way, I'm not sure what this thing is made out of." She turned her attention toward my brother. "Sam, is there any way to test if something is silver?"

"Why are you asking him and not me?" I defended.

"Because he seems like the brains of this operation." She argued, and I really couldn't deny what she said.

Sam gave me a smug look while giving her an answer. "If it's magnetic it's not silver. You could also do an acid test, but we don't have the right supplies."

"Or you could try killing something with it." Maybe I was the brains. "Seventy percent of the monsters out there are fatally allergic to silver. Swing at them, and if they die: ta-da, it's silver."

My brother nodded in agreement and steered the question to what both of us have been wondering about. "Why was your axe in the Devil's Gate? And in your grave?"

"Symbolic, I guess. Also, who the hell wants to dig up an empty box?" She finally set it aside and leaned back in her seat. "And back when they buried the thing, the devil's trap was still intact. The baddies couldn't get in the cemetery, let alone dig the thing up."

Sam furrowed his brows. "So the fact that no one dug the axe up for the past year and half is..."

"Dumb luck?" She shrugged. "And I like calling it a scythe. It sounds a lot less lumberjacky."

"Well, then we need to put you and your scythe to work." I caught Sam's eye in the rearview mirror and asked, "Where to next Sammy?"

He turned his attention toward his cell phone. "Since we're in the area, we should go to Colorado."

"Colorado is in the area? Aren't we about two hundred miles from the state border?" She looked out into the night as we crossed down southward. "Do you guys spend your entire life on the road or something?"

"Close to it." Sam admitted. "There's a small town in Colorado where three men died of a heart attack."

"Well with middle America the way it is, I'm not surprised." She kept her attention outward still. "Maybe the town has one too many burger joints."

"Actually, the guys were perfectly healthy." Sam kept reading from his phone. "Two yesterday, one today. One guy was even a marathon runner."

"Sounds like our kind of case." I kept us going at an even speed and out of the devil's trap.

"They called me and my gang the Scoobies, but you two are regular pair of Hardy boys." Buffy turned to smile at me, but from the corner of my eye I could tell there was something behind it. She seemed almost sad. "You're lucky you have each other."

I furrowed my brows at her wording. From what she said about her time in Sunnydale, she had a whole group of people who also fought the good fight with her. But her tone sounded less like she was happy for us, and more like she was jealous.

"And now they have you." Cas' sudden voice startled everyone -mostly me, who drove us nearly off the road. The tires screeched as I turned the wheel and I could smell the burnt rubber from my foot slamming down on the brake.

Once I had control of the car, I put us in park and whirled around in my seat to glare at the occupant of the spot behind Buffy. There sat Castiel, angel of doom and gloom, looking like he'd been along for the ride the entire time.

"Are you defective?!" I yelled back at him.

"Not to my present knowledge." He said evenly. "I still haven't validated the quality of this vessel, but I believe it is in good working condition."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "That's not what he means."

"I don't understand." Castiel was his usual stern self, but slightly lost.

Ignoring his confusion she turned to face him and pressed on. "What do you want Cas?"

He visibly frowned at the nickname, but answered her question. "We need you Slayer."

"Like I haven't heard that one before."She sighed and shot me a knowing look -what I was supposed to know, was beyond me. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"We need help with a seal."

"This better not be about opening up the seal of a pickle jar." She quipped. "I'm a busy girl, you know."

"I have no need for pickles." Cas' tone was completely serious. I noted that I was already mentally adapting Buffy's nickname for the angel.

Now it was Sam's turn to bring us back to topic. "What do we need to do?"

"Not you two, only the Slayer." Cas revealed, to our surprise but not to Buffy.

"We already covered this." She gave a wicked smile that I knew was edging on a threat by her tone. "I have a name."

Cas ignored her and faced me. "I'll return her soon. We are just in need of a non-angel."

"She's not a car." I mocked. "Also, we somehow don't fit the qualification of non-angel?"

The angel remained silent for a long moment and looked me over slowly. If I was in a bar and some dude was sizing me up the way he was, I would start a fight. Cas moved on to Sam and looked him over as well. After a long somewhat awkward pause, he finally spoke evenly. "We need someone strong."

Buffy burst out laughing and grinned at the two of us. "Don't take it personally boys."

"Grab your weapon Slayer." Cas reached forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll have her back within twenty-four hours." And then, they were gone.

"Is it just me, or is it really unnerving when he does that?" Sam said and then made his way around the car into the passenger side.

Once Sammy was situated, I pulled the car into drive and back down the road. "For someone that's supposed to be protecting us, we sure don't see that much of Blondie."

"You miss her already?" He raised a brow at me.

"She's easier on the eyes than you are." I joked.

"Are we still headed to Colorado?" Sam asked.

I shot him what was probably an odd look. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Your guardian Slayer isn't with us." He bit back a smirk at me. "What if you get hurt?"

"Way to jinx me Sammy." I glared at him. "Anyways, we hunted before she came around and we'll hunt after she leaves."