Winchester Residence
3:07 A.M.
An unknown force made Dean wake up with a start. Staring up at the ceiling, Dean contained his composure and turned his head to his other side to see Buffy still sound asleep.
He ran his eyes over her. She looked peaceful in her slumber.
Not wanting to disturb her, Dean sat up on the bed and reached for a t-shirt draped on the back chair near the vanity mirror. He stood from the edge of the bed and quietly walked out of the bedroom.
Closing the door softly behind him, Dean looked down the dark hallway and tie-toed towards the stairs, careful avoid the known creeks that could wake the entire neighbourhood.
Reaching the bottom step, Dean turned another corner and went into the kitchen. He stood at the counter island unsure of what he wanted from the kitchen. He decided on a glass of water.
Dean went to the top cabinet for a glass when he heard the television in the living room.
With a deepening and suspicious frown, Dean followed the noise and left the glass behind on the counter.
Walking in the darkness, Dean stopped at the entrance of the living room to see a familiar petite shadowed figure standing in front of the television.
A strange feeling ripped through Dean's body. He's brows pinched together finding something in the air very strange. "Buffy?" He said her name softly, careful not to startle her.
Buffy stood with her back facing Dean staring down at the white-snow television screen in front of her. She did not move a muscle.
Dean looked over to a lamp on the end-table and turned it on. A yellow dim light illuminated the room. "Buf? You okay, baby?" Dean asked her again.
Slowly, Buffy faced Dean. The serene expression on her face did not sit well with him. He immediately felt something wasn't right. There was a weight in the room; making it cold and unwelcoming.
The feeling of uneasiness pressed down on Dean the longer he stared at his wife. She didn't move or speak. She appeared perfectly normal, except Dean had experience with normal but the rotten feeling he had in the pit of his stomach signalled to Dean that Buffy was not acting normal.
"Hey, are you okay? Talk to me." Dean urged her taking a step cautious closer. He silently swore to himself that he didn't have a gun on him. Dean couldn't see it but there was a darkness in the room with them. A darkness he's never seen before, not even in purgatory.
Buffy began to move from the static television, slowly stepping towards Dean then stopped abruptly. She stood at the halfway mark in front of Dean. She slowly swayed side to side and stared at Dean with blank and deathly terrifying eyes.
"From beneath you, it devours." Buffy finally said in an unsettling whispering voice.
Dean stared at her chilled to the bone. He had no idea what that meant but it did not sound good or from this earth.
"From beneath…?" Dean tried to piece together.
Buffy serene expression began to twist. She slowly smiled. Her smile stretched wider and wider until it became inhumanly grotesque. Dean felt his heart pound in his chest terrified for his wife. He started towards her when Buffy's demonic grin engulfed her entire face and swallowed the rest of her body in an instant.
With a horrified panic, Dean looked around himself for Buffy or the thing that had possessed her. "Buffy?"
He stood alone in the dim-lit living room with the television now off. Fuck!
Terrified, Dean sprinted back up the stairs and ran down the hallway, waking up Sam from his slumber. Sam opened the door of the guest room just as Dean whizzed past him.
Dean stood the closed door of the master bedroom with his hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath unsure what he was going to find on the other side of the door.
His hand went around the doorknob and twisted it open. Slowly opening the door, Dean stepped into the bedroom to see a feminine figure still asleep under the covers in the large bed undisturbed.
Dean swallowed and ignored the presence of Sam standing behind him. With caution, Dean walked further into the bedroom towards Buffy.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. She looks real. Dean cupped his hand against her cheek careful not wake her. She feels real. Needing to do a test, Dean leaned forward pressing his mouth against her forehead and whispered, "Cristo."
He drew back his head to see if there was any change in his wife. Buffy leaned into his hand against her face and weaving through her long hair. Thank god. Dean felt utter relief that whatever was downstairs in the living room had not actually bothered Buffy or possessed her in any way.
But the question remained, what the hell was that downstairs and what did it mean by saying, 'From beneath you, it devours.' Could it be a demonic message from the Slayer? Dean wondered. Then why the hell is that bitch using my wife to do its dirty work? Dean's worry was now replaced with determined anger. I'm gonna kill that bitch for using my wife.
He sat up removing his hand from Buffy's cheek and looked back over his shoulder at Sam. They shared a mutual expression instantly reading each other's thoughts. Something very strange was happening in the city and Dean had a terrible feeling about it.