Dean stood motionless as Buffy's very womanly form pressed against him, the softness of her counterpoint to the memory of his brother's firm muscles. He checked and double checked the flickering hunger guttering in his belly, but it was quiet, easy to control for the moment. The only stirrings he felt were the totally natural ones from being pulled tight against a hot chick.
Sex demon or no, he was still Dean fucking Winchester.
He'd fed well and deeply the night before; hopefully he could put off having to do it again indefinitely. Dean knew the warning signs now, but he really had no real notion of his limits, how long he could push himself to go without feeding the mara inside him. One thing was for damn sure, he wasn't going to use Sam again. His brother was still in the other room, and would be passed out cold for another few hours if Dean had accurately gauged his energy levels.
The elder man desperately wanted to relax himself into the embrace and take what comfort he could. Here was someone who didn't need him for anything, who was in fact helping him with no ulterior motives on her part. Who didn't judge him (too harshly; he pled temporary insanity on banging that vampire) and actually genuinely seemed to care about him. When all this was over, he'd probably never see her again. He'd never have to interact with her on a daily basis…he could afford to sag ever so slightly in her arms.
Even though he had a foot of height on her, she held him upright easily. He'd never imagined what a turn on a strong woman could be, and Buffy was strong in all senses of the word.
Dean wasn't entirely sure whose head tilted first, but he supposed it didn't matter. The result was the same. Lips met with an air of inevitability, with gentle pressure and quiet passion that nonetheless made Dean Jr. sit up and say hello. God, why had he waited to do this? Buffy was smoking hot, wicked strong, and possibly, just maybe understood him a little bit.
Buffy leaned into the rugged hunter, pressing her body along his and groaning soft and low in her throat. The man could kiss. Why had she waited so long to do this? His tongue swept warm and rough against her lower lip, and she parted for him readily. He entered her surely, with deft, precise movements. His tongue toyed with hers, teasing her before withdrawing completely. He stopped first, breaking away ever so slightly so he could examine her face, trying to gauge her interest.
She wanted more. Something about the troubled Winchester drew her. Buffy ran her fingernails up Dean's spine and tangled in his short hair. He shuddered at the sensation that didn't quite tickle, and made his cock jump in his pants. She pulled his head the few millimeters that separated them and kissed him, trading his gentleness for a hard and bruising closed mouth kiss.
Dean groaned and she could feel the hard outline of his cock against her belly. Buffy felt her lips curling in a satisfied smile. She'd told him before that she doubted he could match her in bed, but now she was reconsidering. The worst part was, she wasn't sure if her desire was due to his transformation or not. She could feel the otherness of him, brushing against the edges of her consciousness. In the past, with Angel and then Spike, that sensation had always been a bit of a turn-on, and responses like that just didn't go away.
In the heat of the moment, the uncertainty didn't much matter to her; it had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to have this. Simple, uncomplicated lust was something she could deal with. Could enjoy. As soon as Giles fixed Dean, the brothers would disappear from her life. Strangely, the thought wasn't as comforting as it should have been. God, the Winchesters were actually starting to grow on her.
Buffy broke the kiss and pulled back slightly to look into Dean's phosphorescent emerald eyes. They appeared to be glowing ever so slightly, sparking amber into the dim room. The sun was just a thin line on the horizon, only just starting to rise. The magnificence of sunrise was nothing compared to the wonder of Dean's mara eyes. It was like they moved, swirling with shades of gold and lime and olive and every hue in between, changing from moment to moment.
Dean, for his part, was just as lost. As much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, what had just occurred between them wasn't about lust. It wasn't complicated, but it wasn't just simple desire. When she'd let him rest in her arms, he'd felt things he hadn't felt in a lifetime, things he'd convinced himself he'd imagined in an attempt to stave of the nightmares of Hell. It was almost like peace. He just hoped it wasn't the calm before the storm.
The hunter didn't know how long they'd been entwined, but the sound of Giles softly clearing his throat shook them back to reality. Dean withdrew reluctantly putting a few inches of space between himself and the Slayer. He made sure to turn so that the couch hid his excited state from the older scholar, who was facing half away from them and diligently cleaning his glasses with his charcoal gray sweater vest. The academic was always so perfectly dressed and groomed that Dean was pretty sure that Giles didn't sleep; he just returned to his alien mother ship each night and left a simulacrum in Buffy's guest room.
The alien librarian Watcher had a thick book tucked beneath his arm. Dean glanced at it curiously.
"Yes, well," began Giles, clearly searching for something to say. Obviously deciding that feigning ignorance was the best approach, the ex-librarian stumbled into speech. "How fortunate that you are both, ah…awake. I have some rather good news. Now, we know that there is no protection from becoming a succubus, and er…of course it's rather too late for that remedy should it even exist, but there are many amulets and wards against the creatures themselves."
Dean stiffened at the word creature, a shift in position that would have been imperceptible had Buffy not been standing so close she could feel the tension in his muscles. On impulse, she slid her hand down over his arm and took his hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. Dean's hand twitched at first, and then slowly closed around hers.
"As I said, there are a multitude of options, but because we still want to help you, Dean, we cannot use the majority of them. Nevertheless, I did come across this particular amulet which prevents against the, ah…erotic influence of the succubus." Giles pulled the tome from under his arm and opened it to a bookmarked page. He turned the book to allow Dean and Buffy to look at the image drawn there. "The person or persons wearing this particular amulet cannot be affected by Dean's…ah…p-pull."
Dean sighed and pulled away from Buffy, shifting his weight to his opposite foot. "Make 'em up. Make extras. We don't know how long I'll be…like this, and I can't live with…. I just can't." His voice broke slightly on his last words, like a ship splintering its hull against a shallow reef.
"Well, that leaves us safe," considered Buffy, frowning, "but it still doesn't solve the problem of Dean needing to feed now that he's changed."
"We are still working on that. I've asked Atherton and a team at the Watcher's Council to look into alternate considerations. He is still waiting for the blood sample to arrive; even under the best circumstances international mail isn't as fast as we would like it to be. I expect it should arrive sometime in the next three or four days. Hopefully, it will tell them more about your condition and a way to treat it."
"Yeah, well," Dean said roughly, "I won't hold my breath."
"So do these amulets call for some Willow action?" asked Buffy hopefully.
"The materials themselves should be simple enough to track down, but yes, I imagine Willow's garden and herb collection should serve well here."
Buffy nodded, a plan formulating in her head. Dean was still holding himself rigid, and she knew he was hurting in places he would never show anyone outright. He needed a break, and hanging around the house cooped up and inactive wasn't doing him any favors. Xander. He'd been around Dean before without setting off his mara pheromones. Buffy reached for Dean's hand again, and he didn't pull away. "Giles and Wills are going to be messing around with some mojo this afternoon, so you probably don't want to be in the general vicinity just in case. Xander's been pestering me about you; I figure you two could have a guy's night out. I know he's needed it lately, hanging around with me and Willow all the time."
Dean thought about the genial man. He did have a pretty bitchin' eyepatch. Dean wondered if Xander was any good with a gun. There had been this one time, in between hunts when he and Sam were still kids, Dad had taken them to play laser tag. They'd handled guns before, of course, but it had been different. The laser pistols were part of a game, not some life or death, kill or be killed situation. It had been the three of them versus the world; it was one of Dean's favorite memories.
He nodded at Buffy and she went to the kitchen, presumably to call the dark haired man. Dean's gaze tracked her movements for a few moments before turning back to Giles. The elder man was glaring, and there was something dangerous in his eyes.
"Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname 'Ripper'?" asked the Watcher conversationally.
Dean, slightly confused, shook his head.
There was something frightening in Giles' voice when he continued. "If you hurt her, I will give you a first hand demonstration. I can guarantee it will not be pleasant. Do please tell Buffy that I am going to the local magic shop to procure supplies."
Dean just stared after the man as he made his exit, slightly stunned at the maleficence that had just come out of the usually agreeable scholar.
"Buffster! How are you this fine morning?"
"I have a favor to ask you. We need to get Dean out of the house for a few hours while Giles, Will and I make some anti-succubi amulets, and he could really use an excuse to blow off some steam."
"So you're asking me to take the monster of the week out for a night on the town? It'll be like old times! Kidding, kidding!" he interjected before the Slayer could bite his head off. "Of course I will; he actually seems like a half-decent guy."
"Great! Thanks so much, Xan. I think Giles just left to get the spell ingredients, so I figure you can swing by and pick Dean up around 4, after you get off work. That should give us enough time to make up the amulets before nightfall."
"Sure thing, Buff. See you then," replied Xander.
Buffy cradled the phone and went to check on Sam. The younger brother was still dead to the world, spread out over a good portion of the queen sized guest bed. He'd never gotten fully dressed before he passed out on top of the covers. His muscular calves and ginormous feet dangled off the foot of the mattress and Buffy snorted a laugh to herself. He was way too big for the bed, but apparently that hadn't mattered to him. Buffy carefully pulled the comforter up over the sleeping man, unable to stop herself from softly touching the tanned muscles of his back. She pulled away when she realized what she'd done, almost like she'd been burned (and hell, the boy was scorchingly hot), then left him, closing the door behind her.
Dean was reading from the book Giles had left regarding amulets and ward-signs. She looked at him questioningly. The elder man shrugged at her, not looking up from the heavy tome.
Buffy sighed. It was going to be a long day.
The doorbell rang just before 4 o'clock that afternoon, and Dean answered the door to reveal a dark haired man dressed in jeans and a close fitting dark shirt. "Dean-o, my man! What's up?" asked Xander by way of greeting. He spoke so quickly, Dean couldn't get a response in, and supposed it was unnecessary. "So there's this tournament at Laser Zone," Xander continued, "and my partner bailed on me tonight. So what do you say, wanna join my team? Reigning champ right here," he grinned, pointing to his chest, blue eye sparkling.
Dean almost suspected someone of reading his mind, but he was pretty sure that was impossible. He tried to be wary, but something about the man was infectious, and Dean couldn't help but grin back, looking for all the world like he was six years old and his dad had just bought him a Red Rider BB gun. "Dude," answered the Winchester excitedly, "that would rock."
"Can we take your car, man? I've never ridden in a '67 before."
"Sure, but no one drives my baby but me," agreed Dean.
With Xander navigating, the boys made it to Laser Zone in less than ten minutes. The place was already packed with teenage and twenty-something young men. As Xander had mentioned, it was a tournament night, and members of the staff were getting the brackets set up when they walked in.
"You start off in teams of eight, made up randomly from four teams of two," explained Xander. "That's just so that people don't have to wait around as long to get to play. Each round a team of two is eliminated based on the lowest combined scores. Have you played before?"
Dean nodded, "Yeah when I was a kid. Been a while though," he said.
"Scoring is pretty straightforward, five points for the chest sensor, four for the back, three for the shoulders and three for the gun sensors. If you get hit you lose one point regardless of which target they got. You get an accuracy bonus as well; most people tend to disregard that and fire as often as they can, but you get a five times multiplier. So if you hit 90% of the shots you take, you can get an extra 450 points. It just depends on how you want to play it."
"Like I said it's been a while since I've done this, but my dad was ex-Marines and he made sure my brother and I could shoot from the time we were kids."
"Sweet!" exclaimed Xander. "We're totally going to own these punks." Dean through Xander's hyena grin looked like it hurt his face, but he grinned back.
They'd been waiting in patient silence for a while when Dean thought he heard something. "What'd you say?" he asked the dark haired man.
Xander looked confused. "Nothing."
"Weird, I could have sworn…." Dean's voice trailed off. His spine prickled, and he checked his surroundings, but found nothing out of the ordinary. He resolved to have a good time. He was finally out of the godforsaken house, and god damn it he was going to enjoy himself.
It wasn't until Xander punched him lightly in the arm that Dean realized he'd been lost in his own head. "We're up man!"
Dean nodded and the staff led them and the rest of their team into one room, and the other team of eight into another. The game referee explained the rules: they weren't allowed to cover any targets or made physical contact with the other players, but aside from that all bets were pretty much off for the tournament. The staff fitted them with their gear, which Dean noted had a pleasant weight to it. He noted that his dark washed jeans glowed slightly in the black light, but he knew he could camouflage himself with some of the barriers he saw in the arena. Xander's clothing didn't glow at all; clearly he'd planned his wardrobe ahead of time.
The referee let them into the arena and gave them a fifteen second head start to take up positions. Xander and Dean took up positions at either side of a tall tower in the corner of the room. The high ground gave them an excellent vantage point of the other team attempting to storm the lower level. Dean took out a kid through a grate below him with a shoulder shot, and his opponent retreated to safety around a corner. The laser gun handled pretty well; it didn't take him long to get used to the burst cannon either, five rapid fire shots by holding the trigger down for a few seconds, though that method lost some accuracy.
When one of the opposing team tried to sneak up on Xander, Dean was able to take him out with a shot to the back. However, instead of retreating, the man ducked behind a barrier until his gun became active again, then focused on Dean. The elder Winchester dropped to the ground to avoid the shot, and then returned fire, hitting him in the chest sensor.
The match was over too soon for Dean, adrenaline up and a huge grin splitting his face. They shelved the gear and headed out into the ready room to check their scores. They announced the scores by code name, so Dean had to wait till they got through the Awesomeman's and the Galactic Warrior's until they got to him.
"Hunter, 1695! We have a new high score for the day, congratulations!" the referee said.
"Damn man, nice job," said Xander, turning to Dean. "You had the look of ex-military in there. Did you serve?" asked Xander, eyes wide.
Dean's gaze unfocused and his posture tightened. Xander was many things, but unobservant wasn't one of them. "Hey, forget I asked, okay?" His voice dropped to a whisper, "I was turned into a soldier for Halloween one year when I was in high school. I'm telling you, some things you just don't forget. I'm pretty sure I can still put together an M-16 in under 57 seconds."
"Dude," replied Dean, "your life is weird."
"Tell me about it."
Dean's spine prickled again as he thought he heard a whisper in the back of his mind, but it was impossible to make out. He shook his head, sure that he was imagining it. He thought he heard it several times that evening, but between the excitement of the games and his own denial, he could happily ignore it.
He and Xander won of course, that was a forgone conclusion, and they headed back to Buffy's house around 9 o'clock, one hundred dollars richer.