Chapter 10: Comfort

A/N: I wanted to do some research on what manner or beastie I wanted them to hunt. Thanks to lucidtransmissions for the suggestion of a ghoul or goblin but after reading about the episodes of Supernatural that I haven't seen I decided not to use a ghoul because of Adam Milligan in Season 4 or 5, whichever he was in. I couldn't find much on goblins, but came across gremlins and my bunny jumped on that with ideas so I wrote this last night to get it out of my head so I could sleep and typed it this morning. Characters belong to their creators except in my head, where they follow my whims obediently ;)

Buffy sat on the bed of their hotel, eating a burger and wondering what the case they were supposed to be working on was. Dean was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed she was perched on, eating his own bacon cheeseburger and sneaking fries from her box of food when she wasn't looking.

"Okay, so the case is basically that a small aircraft went down about a week ago, thankfully no one was harmed." Sam told them both from his bed, where he was alternately eating and typing on his laptop.

"What do they think caused it?" Buffy asked, snatching one of Dean's onion rings and popping it into her mouth with a smug smile at Dean.

"They weren't sure, said they heard some noises and somehow there was dust in the fuel pipes, which rings a bell with something Dad wrote about, but I'm not sure which one." Sam answered, reaching for their dad's journal to rifle through it.

"Doesn't really sound supernatural Sammy," Dean commented. "And if the next words out of your mouth happen to involve getting on a plane, you can forget it."

Buffy glanced at Dean and caught the smirk on Sam's face as he flipped through the small book, "You're afraid of flying," she said to Dean, phrasing it as more of a statement than a question.

"Planes crash!" He defended, ignoring Sam's smirk and Buffy's giggle. "What's the journal say?" He asked instead, grabbing one of her fries deliberately and eating it, giving her a cheeky grin.

"Well, there's not a lot, but he did mention something about gremlins in here," Sam answered.

"Dean, give it back!" Buffy yelped and Sam looked up to see Dean holding her soda can just out of reach while she tried to grab it back. She slid off her bed and straddled his lap, trying to retrieve her soda by distracting him. She kissed him and slid one hand over his chest, mindful of Dru's handiwork, while discreetly trying to reach for her drink with the other and he chuckled. He fisted one hand in her hair, deepening the kiss, temporarily forgetting he was holding her Coke hostage. She kissed him back with equal fervor, until she heard Sam clear his throat behind her. She snatched her drink back from Dean and grinned at him in triumph. She didn't move from his lap though, and felt his hand running through her hair. They both turned back to San when he cleared his throat a second time.

"Got a frog in your throat Sammy?" Dean quipped and Sam scowled at him.

"It's Sam, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Guys!" Buffy interjected and they both looked at her: Sam looked a little apologetic but Dean just gave her another cheeky grin. "Sam, you were saying?" she prompted, giving Dean a slight glare.

"Right, uh apparently gremlins are little creatures that like to mess around with airplanes. They aren't usually evil, but they are mischievous. Legend has it they were once very helpful to men, but turned against them when they weren't getting recognition."

"Okay, so how do we kill Gizmo?" Dean asked once he swallowed a mouthful of burger. "The usual iron rounds?"

"No, iron won't have any effect, but sunlight hurts them, just like a vampire," Sam answered and Buffy nodded.

"I can work with that, what's the plan?" She asked, turning from her spot on Dean's lap to lean her back against the bed as she sat on the floor next to him.

"The pilot is alive so we can talk to him, see if he saw something?" Sam said, taking a sip of his own drink.

Dean nodded in agreement, "Yeah we'll rest tonight then go talk to him in the morning, see what we can find out."

They nodded and ate some more, Sam still typing away while Buffy and Dean snatched food from each other's take-out boxes. When they were finished, they prepared for bed: changing into sleep clothes and checking supplies for the next day. Dean walked over to the bathroom door and leaned on the jamb, brushing his teeth while he watched Buffy put some girly type lotion or whatever on her face and arms. He took a step toward the sink and spat out the mouthful of toothpaste, grabbed the small cup on the counter and rinsed out his mouth. He grinned as he easily swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, dropping her unceremoniously on it with a squeal.

He followed, lying beside her while Sam just smiled and rolled his eyes with affection at the two of them, clicking off the light and laying on his own bed. He liked this new side of his brother that the blonde Slayer brought out. He was glad Dean had agreed to let her come with them, he watched her sometimes when she'd gaze out the window, her eyes full of shadows and pain. Being with them would help get her mind off of Sunnydale, and he was relieved to see her smile around them again.

Buffy stood on the sand, feeling the breeze tousle her blond tresses across her face and neck. She closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, and then she felt strong arms slip between her arms from behind and around her waist intimately. She smiled sadly as she felt the strong masculine build at her back, wrapping her arms around the ones clasped at her belly. She felt a gentle kiss at her collarbone and turned her head to see Angel standing behind her.

"I miss you," she whispered to him and turned to face him, placing one hand on his chest where his heart once beat so long ago.

"Why did you kill me?" He asked in a harsh voice and she looked up into his face as it contorted in pain. She noticed the blood darkening his shirt and she brought her hands to her face, taking a step back in horror. She was in the mansion again, watching him bleed with the sword pinning his body to Acathla, his hand held out to her, his eyes harsh and confused. "Save me," he said and she jolted awake in her bed.

Only when she made out Sam's form on the adjacent bed with her Slayer vision did she calm down enough to let out the breath she was holding. She leaned forward to set her elbows on her crossed knees, running her hands through her hair to rest on her shoulders, trying to slow her heart down from its rapid beat. She felt a soft touch on her back and heard Dean groan as he sat up beside her. He touched his hand to her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Dreams again?" He asked quietly and she nodded. "It's okay, I'm here."

He opened his arms and enveloped her in a hug, trying not to let her see his jaw clench in anger, his chin resting on top of her head as he ran his fingers through her hair. She'd had nightmares every time she allowed sleep to take her and he couldn't do anything but hold her and curse Angel for putting those shadows in her eyes. He leaned back against the headboard and she curled against him, laying her head on his chest and entwining his other hand with hers. "Do you want to tell me about it?" He offered, not really wanting to hear that she'd been dreaming of Angel but he would ignore it if she needed him to.

She shook her head though, and angled her neck into his shirt, breathing in his scent of soap, salt and leather. She felt his heart beat steadily beneath her ear and listened to it for a moment, soothed by the sound and feel of him.

He continued to hold her and run his fingers through her hair, unsure what else to say that wouldn't sound unbelievably stupid. He wasn't good at this kind of thing, but he felt himself acting differently around her at times like this than he would with anyone else. They stayed that way for several minutes, maybe an hour, he wasn't sure. He was content just to hold her close, and she let him as they sat in silence.

He thought she'd fallen asleep until he heard her ask quietly, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He answered, not stopping his hand's movement through her hair.

"This, comforting me."

"Why wouldn't I?" He was confused now, and he felt her shift to look up at him.

"You saw me with Angel, I guess I thought you'd be upset and we'd fight," she told him when she met his confused gaze.

"Why, did you want to?" He joked with a smirk, "I gotta say I'm pretty comfortable so I don't really feel like getting up and slamming shit around."

She laughed at that and looked down again, toying with the bedspread. "No, it's just that…" she trailed off, not wanting to finish that particular thought.

"Buffy, look at me," he said softly, his voice serious. She did and met his eyes again, catching her lip and worrying it. "You're going through some emotional stuff right now and I get that, I'm not mad about you guys hugging or whatever, not really anyway. You loved him and you were forced to kill him to save the world, which sucks. I can't imagine the pain you're going through, and yeah I hate him for causing it, but if you think I'm just going to let you go through it alone then you're wrong."

At his words she felt a tear trek its way down her cheek and he gently wiped it away with his index finger, his gaze never leaving hers. She leaned forward to catch his mouth in a kiss and felt one of his hands slide to the back of her shirt and under it, pressing his palm against the small of her back. The other he tangled in her hair, kissing her just as deeply in return. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, requesting permission and she parted her mouth in acceptance, letting her tongue meet his in a sensual dance. He pressed her closer, sliding the hand on her back up to her shoulder blades, fingers splayed across her spine.

She might hate him for it in the morning, but all that mattered was that she was here in his arms right now, willing and wreaking holy havoc on his senses.

The next morning Buffy woke to sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and glanced down at the comforter covering her nude back. She was stretched across his chest, her legs tangled in his as he continued to sleep, unaware that she was awake. She blinked to let her eyes adjust, and tried to get rid of the fog in her head as she woke up. She heard the shower running which meant that Sam was up and had undoubtedly seen them wrapped in each other's arms.

She gazed at Dean's face, so peaceful in sleep while his arm curled across her back, holding her to him. She wasn't sure if she regretted what happened the night before, but she decided to dress first and think about it later. She untangled her body from his and stood, wrapping the sheet around her and leaving him covered by the blanket. She crossed the room to her bag and pulled out some clothes and the toiletry bag she'd packed as the bathroom door opened and a fully dressed Sam exited, his damp hair in his eyes. She smiled at him and carried her clothes and supplies into the newly vacated bathroom. She heard him wake Dean, and then Dean's muttered rely as he was roused from sleep. She dressed and applied make up, then brushed her hair, fixing it into a French braid to keep it out of her face. Dean seemed to like her neck, she'd learned, and it gave her a chance to show it off to him while having the added bonus of it not bugging her all day.

Dean felt like an ass once he woke up enough to remember the night before and the way she'd allowed him to kiss and touch her. He'd enjoyed every precious second, but he felt bad about it at the same time, which was a new feeling. She was still hurting from killing Angel and he felt as if he'd taken advantage of her vulnerability, even though he knew she'd let him and that he had tried to stop out of respect for her. He contemplated what to say as he got ready, still yawning from sleep, waiting for his turn in the bathroom.

He turned when she approached, uncertain what to do or say, but smiled in response to the one she wore when she looked back at him. Relieved, he grabbed his toothbrush and clothes for a shower, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed. Once they were ready, they all headed to a small mom and pop diner near the hotel, taking a seat in an empty booth: Dean and Buffy on one side with his arm resting casually along the back of the booth with Sam across from them. He played with the end of her French braids while they waited for the waitress to take their order and Sam opened his laptop and waited for it to boot up, glancing at them with a smile. He wasn't stupid, he knew what happened between them while he slept, and he could tell that his brother had been worried about the aftermath. It dinged when his background of him, his dad and Dean loaded, alerting him that he had an e-mail. He opened it and inhaled, glancing at Buffy who was kissing Dean and playing with the keys to the Impala. "Um, Willow sent me a message," he told her and she paused, turning her head to meet his gaze.

"What's it say?" She asked with forced calm, sadness entering her eyes at the mention of her best friend. She felt Dean place his hand over hers on the table but she didn't look at him, her gaze was still locked on Sam's.

"Basically asks if we've seen you, want me to say no?" He inquired softly, and she nodded, looking down at Dean's hand covering hers, letting her fingers entwine with his. He did and by the time he'd finished the waitress was back with their food and he set the computer aside to eat his breakfast.