Distantly, Buffy wondered why she seemed to be sleeping on a dirty floor. She also wondered why she didn't have a blanket, because it was a little chilly. Something definitely wasn't right here, but she was having a hard time getting her mind to cooperate. Then it came to her.
ANTS! Stupid, stupid ants. Apparently, they could ruin more than your picnic.
She forced her eyes open and sat up to survey her surroundings. It appeared she was in a room of sort, it even had a door. Aclosed one, of course, and she was betting she wouldn't be able to simply open it and stroll on out. Then she spotted Dean lying about ten feet away. That sight brought her awareness sharply back into focus. She suddenly remembered the sight of him receiving a bad blow to the head. She had to make sure he was okay.
"Dean," Buffy attempted to call out - finding that her voice sounded a lot like a frog's. Her throat was sore and most definitely swollen. Stupid, stupid ants. "Dean," she called again, a little stronger this time.
There was no response. A feeling of dread began to form in the pit of her stomach. She quickly gained her footing and hurried to kneel at his side. Reaching out a tentative hand, she placed two fingers against his neck. To her great relief, she felt a steady pulse beneath them.
Once she'd assured herself that Dean was alive, Buffy sat back on her heels and attempted to appraise the damage. There was a thick trail of blood leading from his hairline, down across his right eyelid. She leaned forward, trying to see the spot where the rock struck, but his hair was so sticky with dried blood that she couldn't quite make out the wound.
It wasn't an appropriate time for this line of thinking, but she couldn't help noticing that, despite his injuries, he was still very handsome. Dean's features were unguarded and much softer, making him appear younger, almost innocent. Unconsciously, she reached a hand out and traced the line of his jaw.
God Buffy, you are such a perv! She scolded herself internally, pulling her hand away. She should be helping him, not trying to molest his unconscious body. What was wrong with her? The lack of oxygen from being strangled must have scrambled her brain.
She returned to her assessment, determined to keep it professional. This time she checked out his arm. She cursed lightly when she saw the giant crack in the cast. The big macho jerk! That's why he wouldn't let her look at it earlier.
She noticed that Dean's canteen still hung around his neck, so she unhooked it from its strap. She allowed herself a small drink, which felt incredibly good on her injured throat. She then took off the light, short-sleeve blouse she'd been wearing over her tank. After pouring some water on the shirt, she used it to gently dab at the blood on his forehead.
"No fair," Buffy's patient muttered weakly, startling her.
"You're awake," she sighed in relief.
"No fair," he repeated, his mouth forming into a small smile. "I wanted to be awake when you decided to put your hands on me."
"Well it sounds like your brain's intact, the libido part of it anyway," Buffy scolded gently.
"You okay?" He asked sincerely, his voice weak.
"I'll be fine. I think I'm the one that should be asking you that question."
"I'm good," Dean said, obviously lying. "What did they hit me with, anyway?"
"I'm pretty sure it was a giant boulder," Buffy answered with a sympathetic frown.
"Awesome… sounds about right. Guess they got you too?"
"Nope, no boulders for me. I believe I was the lucky one. They decided to just choke me into unconsciousness, which is why I sound like I've been smoking for forty years."
"Bastards!" Dean said, attempting to rise.
"Hold on there John Wayne," Buffy ordered, holding a hand to his chest to keep him down. "Close your eyes and let me get the blood off your eye first. You'll need to be able to see if you're gonna reap some vengeance."
Dean lay back without protest, submitting to the Slayer's attempt at first aide. His stomach had rolled ominously when he'd attempted to sit up so quickly, so he decided that – just this once – his dignity may be better served by cooperating.
"There," Buffy said, dropping the shirt. "Do you think you can sit up now?"
"I'm not an invalid," Dean grumbled, attempting to rise, yet much more slowly this time.
"Just humor me, alright?"
Buffy placed her hand under his elbow and helped to ease him into a sitting position against the nearest wall.
Once in place, Dean leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He breathed in slowly, attempting to will away the wave of nausea he was feeling. There would be no puking. Not today. He'd die first.
After a minute, he felt he finally had his nausea somewhat under control. He opened his eyes just in time to see the very interesting site of the Slayer removing the scarf that was threaded through the belt loops on her shorts.
Buffy caught Dean's hopeful leer and decided she better head off his line of thinking. "Don't get too excited," she told him. "This is your new sling."
"What?" Dean moaned. "I'm not wearing that. It's pink!"
"It's fuchsia actually… and don't be such a baby. I'm sure it'll be completely covered in manly blood and sweat in about five minutes. You won't even recognize it. Besides, I'm the one suffering here. This scarf pulled my entire outfit together."
"Yeah, well whatever," Dean grumbled. "I don't care what you say. I'm not wearin' the matching nail polish."
"Deal," Buffy agreed cheerily. "Now, lean forward a little so I can get this behind your back."
Dean allowed Buffy to tie his arm up in the homemade sling. She was actually pretty good at it. He guessed it shouldn't come as a surprise that she had some experience with field medicine. She was really gentle too. If all the nurses were like her, he might start seeking medical care more often.
"Yay!" Buffy exclaimed, sitting back to examine her work. "That's my best sling yet."
"It's beautiful," Dean agreed sarcastically. "Too bad it clashes with my boots."
Buffy didn't take Dean's attitude personally. She knew his masculine pride was taking a pretty good hit right now. Not that it should be. Some men could be so silly. Dean had suffered some pretty serious injuries today and dealt with them better than most people would. Obviously, he was one of those that always had to play the tough-guy.
After a minute or two of just sitting, trying to allow his head to clear, Dean hauled himself to his feet, using the wall behind him for support. He stood still for a moment, waiting for the spinning room to slow.
"Guess we should test that door out."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "Might as well get it over with. I'm sure you're aware that it's most likely bolted from the outside."
"Course it is," he agreed readily. "So, why do you think they bothered locking us up in here anyway?"
"I have a bad feeling that this is the pantry," Buffy replied with a groan.
"And we're the midnight snack," Dean added.
"Yep. Looks like they invited us to dinner."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
The door, as it turned out, was most definitely bolted from the outside. In fact, Buffy wouldn't be surprised if it was actually welded shut out there and had an elephant wedged against it. She had kicked and punched it with everything she had and it wasn't moving even a tiny bit.
Dean had examined the sides, looking for a way to disassemble it from the stone frame, but apparently any hardware was located on the outside. They were stuck. No way was that door coming open without some outside help.
"Damn!" Buffy said kicking the door again in frustration. "I guess we just have to wait for those things to get hungry."
"Sam will find us," Dean said confidently. "He never listens to anything I say. He's probably on his way right now. I just hope he doesn't meet up with any of those freaks before he gets here."
Dean immediately recognized Buffy's stricken expression and attempted to ease her mind. "Don't worry, he's not stupid. He wouldn't bring Dawn in here."
"You don't know my sister very well," Buffy sighed. "If Sam's on his way then I can guarantee you she's with him. She's trying to make 'being stubborn' into a new Olympic sport. I should've made her stay at the hotel. If she makes it here okay, I swear… I'm going to kill her!"
"I have an idea," Dean said, sounding a little reluctant. "Just don't freak over what's hopefully about to happen here. I'm gonna call somebody that can help us get out and he can also make sure that Sam and Dawn are safe."
Buffy gave Dean her best deer-in-the-headlights look. She knew there was no cell reception underground, so he must be talking about making a different type of call.
"Cas… Castiel," Dean began, looking upward. "It's Dean. I could use a little help right now. So, if you're listening, I'd appreciate it if you'd get your ass down here… Uh, please."
Dean paused and looked around for a few moments as if he was expecting to see someone other than Buffy in the room with him. Then, he balled his fist in frustration and shouted at the ceiling of the cave.
"Cas! I mean it man! Where the hell are you? Kinda got myself in a pretty nasty bind here."
Dean paused again, looking around the room. After a minute or so, he appeared to give up on looking for whoever it was he'd been expecting. He then began pacing the room and cursing. Buffy was pretty sure he knew a few phrases that she hadn't heard before and she was also pretty sure that she didn't want to know what those phrases meant. He and Spike should really get together sometime and trade notes. She decided to allow him to get his tirade out of his system before speaking.
"Who is Cas?" she finally asked, more than a little bewildered.
"Just a guy I know," Dean sighed. "He has this annoying habit of appearing out of thin air. But apparently, that's only when you don't need his help."
No way was Dean telling Buffy that he'd just prayed to his 'guardian angel'.He was already wearing a pink, silk scarf for God's sake! However, he was a little worried about what could be keeping Cas. but that problem would just have to wait its turn. His plate was already full.
Buffy just shook her head. It wasn't like she was a stranger to the bizarre. Whoever this Cas person was, it didn't seem to matter, because they were still trapped.
Dean sat back down against the stone wall and buried his face in his hand, rubbing his temples.
"I'm sorry Buffy," he said in a thick voice. "I'm really sorry. I'd never want anything bad to happen to your sister. If I hadn't…"
"If you hadn't what?" Buffy asked. "What are you trying to say here? That all of this is somehow your fault?"
"It is," Dean stated, as if it were a simple matter of fact. "I should've made Sam take Dawn back to your hotel before we even came in here. Hell, I should have taken care of this whole mess before you two even got here, instead of dickin' around in the motel room for half the day."
"That's bullshit," Buffy snapped irritably.
Dean looked up, shocked by her tone and the language. She didn't seem to curse much. Nowhere near as much as he did anyway.
"I'm going to overlook the fact that you just implied this is a man's job. That I'd be better off just standing back and letting big, tough Dean Winchester save us all. After all, I shouldn't have to get my pretty little hands dirty."
"I wasn't saying that," Dean defended.
"I'm not done," Buffy interrupted. "So, listen up. You don't control me, or Dawn, or apparently, Sam. This whole 'weight of the world' thing, it's not a good look for you. I've been there and believe me, catatonic states are not all they're cracked up to be. Whatever happens is going to happen, there's not a whole lot that you can do to change it. All any of us can do is our best."
Dean stared at Buffy for a moment. She was seriously a little pissed at him right now… and she probably had some valid points. But, he wasn't about to have a chick flick moment and start crying on her shoulder.
"Nice little speech there," he said. "But for some reason, I'm thinkin' you don't always follow your own advice."
"You're an ass," Buffy replied defensively.
"Sure am," Dean agreed, giving her his best smirk.
"Okay," she said, giving in a little. "Maybe I do have my own issues. I never said I didn't, but at least I try to work on them. For example, in the Fall, when Dawn goes off to college… I plan on giving her free reign."
"Oh, really?"
Buffy couldn't help but crack a grin. Dean was infuriating with his smirk, but something about him also got to her.
"Okay," she relented, "but I'm only going to do minimal stalking. Very minimal. Almost non-existent. She'll never know a thing."
Dean was giving her a full wattage smart-ass grin now.
"Don't make fun of me," Buffy warned, trying to stop smiling. "This is serious stuff. You can't go around thinking everything that goes wrong is your personal responsibility. You'll go crazy! You just have to accept that you're not always responsible for everybody and everything. Did you know that last year there was an entire apocalypse, and for once I didn't have to do anything to stop it? And the world's still here. I try to stop and think about that whenever I start getting all broody."
"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," Dean said, losing his grin.
"Really?" Buffy asked curiously, trying to read his expression. "Do you know what the deal was with all that?"
"Just a bunch of dickless douche-bags," he said tiredly. "It doesn't matter. I refused to play my part in it. The compensation package was jacked."
"Know the feeling," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. "Personally, I'm pushing to get paid on a sliding-scale with an extra special bonus for anything apocalypty."
"You can sign me up for that plan, sister," Dean replied enthusiastically.
Dean was smiling again, some of the hard lines disappearing from his face. It was obvious he was relieved for the change in topic. Buffy wasn't dumb, she'd deliberately let him off the hook. The man obviously knew way more than his extremely brief (and colorful) summary would indicate. But, she recognized the pained expression and she certainly wasn't going to push him to talk about it, no matter how curious she was. The last apocalypse might have been a cake walk for her, but apparently he didn't share the same experience.
"Did you notice that it gets kind of cold in here when you're not running for your life?" Buffy asked, hugging her bare arms. It was true, but she was also trying to change the subject.
Dean, who was still sitting propped against the wall, raised his left arm up invitingly. "My best behavior. Scout's honor."
"You're no boy scout," she accused.
"No, but I met one once," he replied with a wink. "Seriously, I'm not in the mood for another broken arm today. Besides, I'm sure these clowns would appreciate a nice, warm meal."
"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint them," Buffy said, finally relenting. She sat down beside Dean, a bit awkwardly, and allowed him wrap his arm around her shoulders. She immediately noted that his skin was a little too cold and clammy and decided he may need the warmth more than she did.
"So…" Buffy started, searching for something to say. "How did you and Sam decide to get into the lucrative business of killing demons?"
"Family business," he answered simply.
"You should really write a book," Buffy replied sarcastically.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're just so descriptive. You really know how to make a story come alive."
"So, you tell me something interesting then. What was it like growing up on Krypton?"
"Funny guy," Buffy said dryly. "I grew up in California. I was born in L.A. actually."
"Same difference".
"I knew you were gonna say that."
Buffy paused for a moment, considering what she was going to say next.
"Dean… you don't think… I mean… Do you think Sam and Dawn might have gotten a little too friendly when we left them out there today?"
"Like what we're doing now?" Dean teased.
"I'm serious," Buffy continued. "Dawn thinks she's ready for a lot of things, but I'm not so sure. She just graduated from high school and I worry about her getting in over her head."
"You don't need to worry," Dean advised her sincerely. "This Sam would never take advantage of your kid sister. They probably just braided each other's hair… and tried to decide which Jonas brother is the cutest."
"Do you always give Sam such a hard time?" Buffy asked with a giggle. "I hope you've noticed that your little brother isn't exactly little."
"He thrives on it," Dean assured her. "Keeps him on his toes. Besides, I can take him."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He might just crack one day. It'd be something to watch, though. You could probably sell tickets."
"Yeah, right," Dean snorted.
Buffy relaxed a little, snuggling into Dean's side. It was nice to have some warmth… and comfort, too. For some reason it made her feel secure to have his arm around her. It wasn't just because it was heavy and firm. Not that those things weren't a bonus. There was just something about his presence that made her feel safe. She knew he had her back and, in her crazy life, that was a valuable commodity.
It was hard to believe that a few hours earlier they'd been telling each other outrageous lies and acting like tourists. Now they were huddled together in a cave - both of them desperately needing a shower – waiting to be eaten by some mutant ants. Only in her life would something like this happen.
Buffy stopped her musings when she noticed her companion was being a little too quiet. She hoped he hadn't fallen asleep. She was pretty sure you were supposed to stay awake after receiving a head injury.
"Hey, Dean," she said, trying to gain his attention. "Dean," she said a little louder, squeezing his hand.
"Hmm?"
"You're not sleeping, are you? Because that's not a good idea."
"Not sleepin'," he answered drowsily. "Passin' out… it's different."
"Well you can't be doing either. You have to stay awake!" she ordered, pinching his arm.
"Okay, I'm awake," Dean grumbled, opening his eyes. "I've never understood why you can't sleep after a head injury, anyway."
"I don't know," Buffy admitted. "But it's on all the TV shows. And Dr. House is never wrong."
"Well, I'm convinced," Dean replied dryly.
"Tell me a story," Buffy prompted. "Something that requires more than one sentence."
"What do you want to know?"
"I don't know… I told you where I'm from. Why don't you tell me about where you grew up?"
"In the Impala, mostly. That and a lot of crap motels."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, it's a travelin' gig."
"Even when you were a little kid? Your parents just drug you all over the country?"
"Our dad did… Mom died when Sam was a baby."
"I'm sorry," Buffy said sincerely, feeling bad for even asking. "I really didn't mean to pry. I was just trying to keep you awake."
"It's okay," Dean assured her. "It was a really long time ago."
"But still," Buffy said, "my mom died four years ago and sometimes it seems like it happened just yesterday."
"Your mom too, huh?" Dean asked sadly. "Did something bad get to her?"
"No, it was a brain aneurism of all things. Totally natural, nothing I could do about it. It was kinda like fate was laughing at me."
"Know the feeling," Dean assured her. "Fate's a cruel bitch. Maybe I should try and hunt her down."
"I'll help," Buffy offered. "I think we… Wait a minute," she said trailing off. "Do you hear something?"
"No," Dean answered as he cocked his head to listen.
"Give it a minute, something's definitely headed this way."
"Dinner time?"
"Let's hope not."
