(10/22/2016) In the middle of my final paper so some good vibes my way would be nice!
Almost done with the first seasons of both these shows, and then we get to the fun stuff! Angelus and Ruby and Lillith, oh my.
Thanks to thedarkpokemaster, jkmp28, RHatch89, and philly cheese dude for the reviews! All of you favoriting and following get yummy persimmons!
With a noisy yawn a platinum blonde head peeked over the side of the brunette and gave John Winchester a smirk. "Dru, love," he said, "I had no idea that you ordered delivery."
The insouciant, mocking attitude of the two English vampires sparked John's temper. Dru, the female, sounded cultured, her words slithering out in a cold drawl, but the male brought to mind a Harvard graduate trying to mimic a street thug. It scratched at John's very human pride at being a small town, self-made man. "Who the hell are you?" he asked belligerently.
The blonde, Spike presumably, hopped out of his hammock as the woman's grip tightened. John let out a grunt as bones began grinding together on his wrist. The male shrugged a long black coat back into place as he asked, "No, who are you? Bet you're one of those bloody hunters. Going to show you've got the biggest wrinklies by finally doing me in?" The vampire spotted Buffy. "Oh look, Dru," he said as his face distorted, the plates crunching and shifting as he took on his demonic form. "An appetizer!"
"Buffy, RUN!" John shouted as he grabbed the Colt and pistol-whipped the female. She released him with a cry and he scrambled to his feet, snatching up the bullets and loading the gun as quickly as he could.
Retaliation from an outraged Spike was halted by a clunk echoing from the back; Sam and Dean had finally picked the enormous, rusted padlock on the cage door. The vampire's head snapped towards them as Dean herded the men and women away crying, "Go go go go go!"
"Wake up, you idiots!" Spike shouted. The other creatures jerked awake. "Get them!"
Most of the vampires went for Sam and Dean, erroneously assuming that they were the biggest threats. Their father found himself once again struggling with Dru for the Colt. He was a little puzzled as to her pallor and lack of strength; if she had been healthy John knew he would be having a much more difficult time.
A few went for Buffy, figuring she was just some tiny hunter and therefore easy prey. When she met the first one with a spinning kick and immediately plunged a stake into his heart the miscalculation became obvious. The second and the third met equally rapid demises.
An eager Spike began circling Buffy. "So, little girl," he purred, "fancy taking me on?"
"I'm always up for fancy," Buffy shot back as she kept the vampire in her sights. "You have to dip your whole head in bleach to get that look?"
With a primal snarl Spike launched himself at her. She ducked under a punch and threw one of her own. The vampire leaned out of the way, laughing. "You got some moves, girl! Not your standard little huntress, are you?"
"Hey!" John shouted over the ruckus. Both Spike and Buffy froze and turned. Dru's neck was locked under John's arm and the Colt was pointed at her head. Her face was paler than it had been, fear writ large on her expression.
Spike gave a roar and stepped towards them only to halt when John cocked the gun. "I'm going to rip out your insides and feed them to you piece by piece!" the vampire hissed through his fangs.
"Sure," John replied. "But your honey-bun here will be dust long before that."
"Spike?" Dru whispered.
The vampire's face reverted as he was drawn to a scuffle off to one side. "Not to worry, love," he said, a cocky smirk set on his lips.
Spike backed up a few steps to allow a pair of vampires hauling Sam and Dean to come into better view. The brothers were struggling fruitlessly; Sam tight lipped and glowering and Dean throwing choked out obscenities. At a nod from Spike, his vampiric cronies rapaciously buried their fangs into the boys' necks.
"No, stop it!" Buffy shrieked as she lunged towards her brothers. Two more monsters, bloodied but mobile, appeared, each taking hold of one of Buffy's arms.
Spike snapped his fingers a few times and the vampires lifted their reddened mouths, the brothers' movements now sluggish. Blood trickled down and stained the front of their shirts. "Now," said Spike, staring straight at a horrified John, "I can let my friends here finish their feast, or you can let Dru go and maybe, just maybe, I let the lot of you walk on out of here." When John remained obstinate, the vampire yelled, "Tick tock, old man!" The other four creatures began growling hungrily.
"All right!" John cried. "All right." He released Dru and she staggered forward into Spike's arms. The vampire caught her, dissonantly gentle, and lowered her to a hay bale. John then demanded, "Now let them go."
Spike jerked his head. All three of John's children were released. Weakened by blood loss Sam and Dean collapsed to their hands and knees. Buffy and John rushed towards them, the former shouldering Dean and the latter the significantly taller Sam. "What happened?" Buffy whispered.
"Eight at once," Dean mumbled. "Got a couple, though. Assholes."
"You know what?" Spike suddenly said as the family carefully backed up towards the doors. "I changed my mind." He smiled maliciously. "I think I will kill the lot of you." His face transformed once again and he and his four remaining minions stormed forward.
Burdened as they were by her weakened brothers, Buffy determined that their chance to survive this encounter had quickly diminished. Regardless, she set her jaw and hurried towards the doors, Dean's much taller frame dragging across the dirt and hay. To her astonishment her father hadn't moved. Instead, John had prepared the Colt and was pointing it directly at Spike.
The shot rang out. Spike managed to wrench another male vampire in front of him to take the bullet and the tableau froze. Everyone stared at the creature to see what would happen.
The thing staggered and clutched the center of his bare chest where a macabre, burnt wheel designated the bullet's entry point. He jerked as his insides abruptly lit up. Electricity arced about within his body, the bright orange glow shadowing his ribs and skull. The vampire only had time for one more dumbfounded look before disintegrating.
The other vampires angrily started towards the family but were brought up short by a piercing whistle from John. They faltered upon seeing the Colt pointed in their general direction.
Spike glowered, his eyes locking on each of their faces. "Night falls," he growled, "and you all die."
Buffy kicked open the barn doors, allowing the sunlight to force the vampires back. Dean had regained enough energy to flip the monsters an obscene gesture before they were gone.
Spike turned towards his beloved Drusilla. His lovely had her eyes fixed on the retreating hunters. "What is it?" he asked, kneeling before her as one of his peons braved the burns to circle around the doors and shut them.
"The tall one," she murmured, "his blood sings. It sings something wonderful. And when the song ends, his insides will be the devil's plaything." Drusilla gave a tired giggle.
"Then he's yours," her paramour promised. "Once it's dark, I'll go retrieve the bloody giant and you can listen to that song all you like."
"No," Drusilla crooned as she took Spike's hands and stood. "No. The song needs to play." She gazed off into nothing. "The yellow eyed man, he was the composer. We should give him flowers."
"After you're better. Fuck the hunters, love. Let's make our way to the Hellmouth like we've planned."
"Yes. Then we get to hear the finale."
Back at the motel, John and Buffy bandaged Sam and Dean's neck wounds. Their father forced iron pills on his sons and a good deal of water. When Dean whined for beer, Buffy whacked him upside the head. "Ow!"
"We're getting out of here," John announced. "Within the hour."
"And then what?" asked Buffy.
"Then you're going home."
"What?"
"I'm putting you on a plane. I already called Joyce; she's picking you up from the Santa Barbara airport."
"No! You've got your gun and I know the next thing you're going to do is go for banana eyes. Let me help!"
John turned away from his children. He hunched his shoulders as he stared down at the worn wood of the motel dresser. What he was going to say to his daughter was necessary, God it was necessary, but he had to be sure she lived. What he had done, what he was going to do, it would all be worth it if at least one of his children made it out of this battle intact. "Buffy," John began, clenching his fists, "you ain't a Winchester."
She stared, eyes wide. Both of her brothers stiffened, Sam's jaw tightening with rage. In a small voice, Buffy asked, "What?"
Her father turned around and looked at her. "You ain't a Winchester. You're a Summers. That means you don't got a right to be there when we take this thing down."
Eyes shimmering with tears, Buffy drew herself up, outraged. "Excuse me? Are you telling me I'm not one of you?"
John closed the few steps between him and his daughter and loomed over her. "I'm saying that this is about something that started long before you were even an idea. This ain't your fight and you don't belong. So you're gonna head on back to that Hellmouth of yours, do your Slayer thing, and stay out of our way."
"I am not —"
"YOU WILL DO AS I SAY!" John roared. "I might not have had the patience to cart your spoiled ass around like I had to do with your brothers, but I am still your father! So you go on to that room over there and pack or so help me…"
Buffy maintained the facade of simple indignation for a moment more. Then her face crumpled. She gasped out a sob before tearing out of the room and slamming shut the adjoining door.
Sam stood up and locked eyes with his father. The disgust and hostility in his younger son's eyes made John's heart plummet. Thankfully, without a word, Sam turned and chose to follow his sister into their shared room.
As John turned back towards the dresser, his eldest son murmured, "What the fuck, dad?"
"She can't be there."
"She's got frigging super powers, dad! If we could trust anyone to help us gank that asshole it'd be our own family."
"Dean," John said wearily as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "just get ready to leave."
The small crack in that final word stifled Dean's objections. Whatever Buffy was feeling he had the impression that their father was feeling something even worse. After a moment more of staring at the eldest Winchester's back, trying his best to fathom why his father wanted to shield the girl as much as he did, Dean did what he was told.
Sam did most of Buffy's packing; she had curled into a ball of misery onto her bed. The wrath he felt towards his father buried logic; had Sam been able to think clearly for a moment he might have realized John's ulterior motive. He might have seen that his sister would never have given up the certainty that she belonged with them on this hunt. He might have understood that his father wanted the baby of his progeny safe. As it was, all the younger brother recognized was that Buffy had been hurt and it was his father's fault.
Sam took the time folding his sister's clothes to reflect on his relationship with her and her mother. After their father's estrangement, the brothers' contact with Joyce and Buffy had been haphazard at best. They would swing by for a few days or weeks whenever a hunt took John to Southern California, always with months in between. And yet the bond between the siblings grew strong enough that when they were together they were a family, three children who acted as if they'd been together for all their lives.
Dean didn't consider Joyce as much more than Buffy's progenitor, but Sam was enthralled by her maternal gestures. Mary Winchester, as precious as she was to her surviving family members, had died before her youngest son could know her. Joyce was there, was more than just a memory. Thus, when Sam tore himself away from the brother that meant more to him than life it was to the Summers' home he went to.
For nearly three years they were his family (less so Hank Sutherland, particularly after the fiasco with the psychiatric facility). Until Dean had shown up inside his home in Palo Alto, Sam figured that the next time he'd hear about his father or brother would be someone telling him that they were dead. Once on the road the two brothers had reaffirmed their family connection almost immediately. Reestablishing the tie between Sam and his father, however, would take far more time, if it could be done at all.
"Excuse me," Buffy said abruptly. She stood up from her bed and headed for the bathroom.
"What're you doing?" Sam asked.
"Oh, I dunno. Take a shower, fix my face, pretend that my father isn't a big fat jerk."
"He didn't mean it," her brother attempted.
Buffy gave him a condescending look; Sam's insincerity was obvious. "Ten minutes."
"Okay, Buff'."
The bathroom door clicked shut. After a moment, Sam heard the shower begin to run. He considered heading to the other room, maybe caving his father's nose in, but changed his mind when Dean creaked open the adjoining door. "Hey," said the eldest brother, "she gonna be okay?"
"Eventually."
Dean walked into the room. "Dad went to gas up the truck. He said he's going to take her to the airport soon as she's ready." He fidgeted for a moment. "You know it's for her own good."
"Bullshit," Sam snarled. "He just wants her out of the way."
"Dude, she's still a kid! She's got friends, her mom, even that freaking vampire douchebag to go back to. We don't got nothing other than this." Dean shrugged. "She deserves better."
Sam grimaced, unconvinced. "I guess." The shower squeaked off and, impulsively, Sam held his hand out to his brother. "Give me the keys."
"Uh, why?"
"I'm driving her to the airport. I think it's better that way."
Dean hesitated a moment before reaching into his pocket and relinquishing the Impala. "Make sure she actually gets gone."
The younger brother nodded then went to knock on the bathroom door. "Buffy! Hurry it up. I'll drive if you can get out before dad gets back."
"'Kay," she answered.
"You know dad's going to be pissed," Dean commented.
"Yeah, well, when is he not."
Upon seeing her daughter's stricken, tear-swollen face Joyce forwent asking how her summer had been and instead just gave her a tremendous hug. Whatever had happened between John and their child was undoubtedly his fault, even though when he called he'd implied that Buffy had committed some transgression, and the girl would tell her mother in due time. In the interim, Joyce would lavish matronly affection upon her.
As they drove to Sunnydale, Joyce suddenly said, "Oh! I forgot. There are some new neighbors a few houses down. Guess the Fogerty's decided to move out and rent the place since all their kids are grown."
"Weird." Buffy thought the kindly old couple had intended to die in that house, seeing as how they had raised three children inside.
"They're a couple of college kids going to the UC. One of the girls said she was willing to come give you some tutoring if you need it."
"Do I need tutoring?" Buffy wondered dryly.
"Well, let's see what kind of grades you get this first semester."
"What's her name?"
"What was it," Joyce murmured as she tried to think. "Meg! Her name's Meg."
They arrived home around two. After settling in, Buffy made the requisite calls to Willow and Xander. Plans for The Bronze were made, permission was received, and all seemed to be getting back to normal.
She didn't expect to hear from either her brothers or her father that day and was surprised when Sam sent a text. Dad and I talked, it said. Cleared the air about me leaving for school.
Buffy sent a basic message back: Okay.
He didn't mean what he said.
Sure.
He'll call when we get to Colorado. Dean says to have a beer and chill. Don't.
That made Buffy smile a little. I promise. Don't let dad forget.
Okay. Talk to you soon.
Willow and Xander met Buffy on the sidewalk outside of her home, the both of them eagerly asking for the minutiae of her trip. She began griping about the various, skeevy lodgings she'd been forced to endure when a young woman with short, blonde hair approached.
"Hi!" she said amicably. "You must be Buffy. I'm Meg, from down the street?"
Something about the girl made Buffy's skin crawl. She managed a half-hearted greeting. "Hey, yeah. Mom told me about you guys."
"Listen, me and my roomies are going to have a little get-together later. I know you're underage, but what your mom won't know won't kill her." Meg shot them a conspiratorial grin. "Consider it our way of introducing ourselves to the neighborhood."
Xander started to reply positively when Buffy cut him off. "No thank you. I just got back from a super long trip and I need some time to catch up with my friends."
"Okay! Well, if you change your mind, come on by."
"Thanks," Buffy said, turning Willow in the general direction of The Bronze. "I'll talk to you later."
"Have fun."
"Why are we not partaking of the booze and older ladies?" Xander wondered piteously as they walked away.
"I don't know," Buffy answered. "Just something about her I don't like."
"Me neither," added Willow. "Like she was hiding something, you know?"
Not wanting to ruin the evening, Buffy shelved her suspicions. "Oh well. C'mon! I haven't heard some good music in ages."
"Why not?" asked Xander.
"Apparently Dean is ignorant of any music within the last… forever. Plus the Impala's only got a tape deck."
"Wow. Talk about living in the past. Do they even make tapes anymore?"
"Yeah," Willow snorted, "you should tell him about, you know, these round shiny things with songs on them. I hear it's all the new craze."
The three of them derided Buffy's brother a little more, talked about what they'd done since they last parted, and had a wonderfully normal good time. Tomorrow, Buffy decided, would be soon enough to contact Giles and resume her Slayer duties. Today she decided to just be a girl.