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Stitches
NEBRASKA
Buffy groaned quietly as she flipped listlessly through another of the stuffy, tedious books that Sam had insisted on dragging all the way back to the motel room earlier that day. She didn't know what he expected to find – the library in the local town they were staying in was uninspiring at best, and the books on demonology they had discovered were a bunch of crap. Probably written by someone who'd never even seen a demon, let alone faced one off. But Sam had insisted that they at least check them out, and so here they were. And what had they discovered. Yeah, nothing. Buffy would have said 'I told you so' but that might bring attention to the fact that she'd finished her book and Sam would only make her start on another one. He was a little Giles in the making, that was for sure.
And had Buffy ever mentioned how much she hated research? Because she did.
But she had been more than surprised to learn that Faith was actually pretty good at it. No, more than that...she enjoyed it. Which said a whole bunch about how much she'd changed since their days back in Sunnydale. Buffy had asked her about it earlier and Faith had just shrugged and explained that she'd kind of gotten used to it, what with being on the road all the time. She'd had to learn to research for herself because she was by herself.
Not anymore, Buffy thought happily.
She glanced over at Faith. Right now, the book in her lap had been forgotten and she was peering over Sam's shoulder in interest as he studied something on his laptop, probably in regards to the demon they were hunting. And Dean...Dean was laying sprawled across one of the beds, an open book covering his face. He appeared to be asleep, but he was most definitely faking. He was snoring lightly, and usually when he slept he didn't make any noise at all. Buffy knew this because for the past couple of nights since they'd arrived in town the four of them had had to share a room as there were no adjoining rooms available, and the only two rooms that the motel did have free were on different floors and they were wary of being separated should something happen to any of them.
They weren't even really supposed to be in the town in the first place, but Dean had gotten hungry as they passed through and had insisted on stopping for food. It was in the diner that they'd heard talk of a local man who'd been mauled to death by what was assumed must have been an enormous sized bear.
"Thing is," Liz the over friendly waitress had speculated as she'd preened under Dean's penetrating gaze. "ain't no bear ever been near this town in all the years as I can remember. But I guess poor old Eddie just got unlucky."
A quick, horrifying visit to the morgue was enough to inform them that no bear on earth was big enough to have claws as large as the ones that had clearly ripped into 'poor old Eddie', and so the case had formed. Needing more evidence before they could start research, they had headed out in pairs in search of the beast which, according to Buffy as she later relayed the details to Dean and Faith, had been 'big, scaly and horny' – something which had amused Dean to no end, even after Buffy had explained that it wasn't actually hornyhorny, it was just horny, as in it had horns. She and Sam had stumbled across the demon nesting in an abandoned warehouse, and had gone a good few rounds with it before admitting defeat after it had simply laughed its strange demony laugh once Buffy had run it through with her sword. Not knowing how to kill it, and more than a little worse for wear, they had done the only thing they could do and ran.
Which led them to where they were now. Researching first what the heck this ugly looking demon thing was, and secondly, how in the frig to kill it.
Buffy sighed and moved over to look outside the motel window. It was a clear night, and the moon was out, full and shining. She was feeling restless. Boy did she hope they'd find out what the hell this thing was already so they could go out there and kick its scaly butt already.
"Aha!" Sam exclaimed loudly, causing her to jump and knock her elbow on the window-frame in surprise.
"What is it?"
"Found our guy." Sam spoke with satisfaction.
Buffy moved over behind him and Faith so that she could take a closer look. And there he was. It wasn't a very good drawing, but it was definitely their demon. "Wow, you can find anything on the internet these days," Buffy observed. "What's it say about him?"
"Here we go," Sam said, pulling up the information. "It says...that it's a Waspaw demon. Apparently they're vicious, like to live alone" he recited. "they don't feed off of humans, but they do feed off death...which is just as bad, I guess. They're still killing, either way."
"So, that's why it killed Eddie," Buffy surmised. "To...feed, or whatever. And also why he was ripped apart but not missing any organs."
"I suppose so."
"That's sick."
"Yeah."
"How do we kill it."
Sam pulled a face. "Uh...it doesn't say."
"Perfect." Buffy huffed and flopped back down onto the bed.
"We just need to keep looking," Sam assured her.
She stood up again and stretched, glancing back out of the window. "I have to get out of this room. Maybe I should do a sweep of the town, make sure no one else is getting ripped up into itty bitty human parts?"
"Do you really think you should?" Sam asked. "I mean, we know what it is but we don't know how to kill this thing yet. We don't even know its weak spots. What if you do come across it?"
But Buffy was already rooting around in her weapons bag. "Then I'll just take his head off," she chirped, pulling out an axe and twirling it around carelessly. "That usually works, right?"
Sam looked conflicted. "You shouldn't go out alone. This demon was pretty strong."
"I'll go," Dean's voice sounded from beneath his book.
Ha! She knew he'd been faking!
"I swear to God, if I hafta sit around this room one minute longer I'm gonna go crazy," Dean continued. As he rolled off of the bed, Buffy leaned over and handed him a sword. "Nice!"
"Faith? You coming?" Buffy queried as she slipped into her jacket.
"Nah," Faith replied disinterestedly, still studying the screen. "I'm kind of into this research thing. This demon's pretty interesting in a gross, I wanna pull you apart kinda way."
Buffy barely had time to register that yes, Faith had just turned down patrol before Dean was holding open the motel door and telling her to hurry her skinny ass up. She would have punched him in the face right there had she not recognized the same desperation to get out of the room in him that was crawling around inside of her.
"Hey B!" Faith called. Buffy turned and Faith quickly threw her the dagger that she kept on her person at all times. "Take care of yourself. This thing's pretty tough." Faith's voice was purposely nonchalant, but Buffy could feel just how much Faith meant it.
"Thank you," she said sincerely, tucking the dagger away, before following Dean out of the room and into the night."
"Finally!" Dean moaned as they hit the first chill of the night air. "All that researching was making my eyes hurt."
Buffy looked at him with a peeved expression. "You've been pretending to sleep for the past hour and a half!"
Dean winced. Damn, he thought he'd been pretty convincing. "I was resting. Because my eyes hurt." He grinned smugly.
She rolled her eyes and walked a little faster. "Whatever. I am so not in the mood to deal with the annoyingness that is you tonight."
He paused and frowned after her. The annoyingness that was him? He was the annoying one? She couldn't even form proper sentences without mashing up her freakin' words! Growling, he stomped after her, resolving not to talk to her for the rest of the entire night. See how annoying she'd find him then!
They trundled on in complete silence for the next hour. Buffy, having taken note of the uncharacteristic quietness emitting from her companion, had stubbornly decided that there was no way that she was going to be the first one to break it, and that she would only talk once he did.
And so they made their way through the town, only acknowledging that the other was even there to shoot dirty looks their way once every so often.
After they found nothing in town, Buffy led the way towards the warehouses, hoping that the demon would still be there.
If I was talking to her, Dean thought smugly when they discovered the warehouse was a no go, I could have told her ages ago that the demon would have upped and moved nests by now. His pleased expression faded when he realized that this was causing him a nuisance along with Buffy.
Still wordless, the pair made their way through an empty forest, and then a not so empty park.
"There it is!" Dean pointed out excitedly, and then, "Aw, hell!" as he realized that he had lost their unspoken challenge.
Buffy made a mental note to act smugly later on, before checking out the Waspaw demon for herself from their concealed position behind a large set of bushes. It was prowling. She checked her watch – nine pm. Was that too late for people to come through the park? Whatever, she couldn't risk it. She lifted up her axe with a firm grip. "This could get dangerous. You wait here," she demanded briskly, barely even sparing Dean a glance before slipping out of the bushes and heading straight towards the demon.
Dean watched her go with an open mouth. Sanctimonious bitch! Like hell was he gonna let her get all the action!
The demon sensed Buffy moments before her axe imbedded in his neck, and he twisted around and grabbed the offending weapon, snatching it out of her grasp easily and tossing it away. She grimaced and ducked as he swung a large claw at her, stretching back up to punch him with as much strength as she could muster. The Waspaw wasn't even fazed, and as Buffy went to take a step back to regroup, it charged her and kicked out her legs from underneath her. She hit the ground hard and tried to gasp as the air was knocked out of her. His enormous foot came to rest upon her belly, holding her down despite how much she struggled. And with no chance of escape, she watched helplessly as a long, sharp claw plunged down towards her chest.
"Hey Jerkoff!" Dean roared furiously, successfully distracting the demon from its task. Dean, no more than a couple of feet away, lifted up his gun and aimed it right at the Waspaw's head. "Feed off of this!" and he pulled the trigger.
The demon howled, grasping its head and stumbling back a few paces, giving Dean enough time to grab Buffy and pull her to her feet.
"Let's get out of here," Buffy suggested quickly, tugging on Dean's arm to get him to run while the demon was still distracted.
"Screw that!" He shrugged her off and ran at the Waspaw, sword in hand. He managed to get a good swipe in to the chest before the demon came back to its senses.
Dean didn't see the claw coming his way, but Buffy did.
"Dean!" she screamed, her heart in her throat as she lunged towards them.
Thanking the holy heavens that she was the slayer, and therefore equipped with extra speediness, Buffy managed to reach Dean before the would be deadly claw did and pushed him hard towards the ground. But his rescue came at a cost, and she only succeeded in taking his place.
She gasped as she felt the searing pain of a large claw slashing at her belly, and with a stumble, she fell to the ground next to Dean.
And though the bullet had wounded the Waspaw, it hadn't stopped him, and he still kept on coming. From the ground, Dean shot another two bullets into the demon's head, and Buffy used the opportunity to scramble up off the floor, dragging Dean up alongside her.
"Come on!" she insisted, pulling him with one arm and holding onto her bleeding wound with the other. "We have to run!"
"Why?" Dean yelled fiercely. "We've got this thing here! It's weakened! We can kill it right now!"
He hadn't seen Buffy get injured, and the black sweater she was wearing, along with the darkness of the night sky, concealed her loss of blood. "Please!" she begged. "Let's just go!" She didn't give him any more chances to protest, instead gripping onto his arm and tugging him along after her as she ran.
Angrily, Dean followed her – though not by choice. They made it out of the park and ran for a long, and in Buffy's case painful, ten minutes before they were sure that they had lost the demon.
Dean stopped abruptly in the middle of the road and span around to face her. The moon was under the cover of clouds and there was very little light to see by. Buffy could only see Dean's dark outline but she could tell by his shaking breaths how enraged he was that she had pulled them out of the fight. About to tell him of her wound, she stopped. There was something inside of her refusing to get the words out, refusing to let him know she was weak.
"Do you wanna tell me what the hell that was about?" he yelled. "We had that freakin' thing!"
"We were losing," she replied, trying desperately to keep the pain out of her voice, and to calm down her quickly shallowing breaths.
Dean snorted. "We got knocked down a couple of times. Is that all it takes to scare you off? Because if so then you are not the person I thought you were."
If she weren't becoming so dizzy from lack of blood then Buffy was pretty sure she'd be kicking his ass right about now. These words coming from him were hurting her more than she cared to admit, but she really couldn't think about it when there was a gaping whole in her chest, and any thoughts of asking him for assistance vanished as she heard him mumble something about her being 'chicken'.
"Let's just go back to the motel," she said through gritted teeth. "We need to regroup and find out how to kill it."
"Whatever." Dean threw his hands up in the air and began to stalk away from her, not even bothering to check if she was following. He was infuriated! What if the demon went out and killed someone else tonight just because Little Miss Princess Buffy couldn't be bothered to get off her ass and fight it. Since he'd come to know her, he'd began to count on her to be the one always ready for a fight, and now she had them running away like a couple of amateurs.
Behind him, Buffy sighed and closed her eyes as she pressed her hand more firmly over her wound, before taking a deep breath and following after him.
It didn't take them long to get back to the motel, and Buffy winced as they approached the bright lights. She really didn't want to go in like this. Dean would probably get off on her pain and Faith would be guilty that she hadn't been there to stop it.
"Hey," she called out to Dean, who had stayed an angry few paces ahead of her their entire journey. "Hey!" she called again when he ignored her the first time.
"What?" he snapped, twirling around to face her, clearly still pissed off.
"I just need to talk to the motel manager a second. You go on up to the room and I'll be right up."
"Fine." He didn't even hang around to ask her what she needed to talk to the manager about, which Buffy was glad for because she hadn't thought up an excuse. She watched him enter the motel and waited for a minute, before heading in through the motel doors after him.
Twenty minutes later, Faith looked up from her book to glance at her watch. "I thought you said Buffy was only going to be a minute?" she asked Dean.
Dean, who had been sulking near the TV, looked down at his own watch and frowned. "She said she was going to talk to the manager."
"About what?"
He shrugged. "Don't know. Didn't ask. I'm not her keeper."
"Let me guess, you two have been fighting again?" Sam didn't even take his eyes away from the computer screen to roll them, so used to this particular pattern as he was. Although he had to admit, the two of them hadn't been fighting nearly as much as they had when they'd first met, so at least things were progressing. Until tonight, clearly.
Dean ignored his brother and went back to the TV.
Faith picked up her cell phone and called Buffy's number. "No answer," she said eventually.
"Whatever, dude. She's probably just griping at the manager for some imagined reason."
"Maybe." But Faith looked slightly distressed even as she went back to her book.
Another fifteen minutes passed, and Dean hated the fact that he was beginning to worry as Buffy still did not appear. He checked his watch at least once every thirty seconds, something of which did not go unnoticed by the other occupants of the room. Finally, he stood up and cracked his knuckles agitatedly. Following in Faith's footsteps, he dialed Buffy's number...still no answer. Man he hoped this had nothing to do with how much of a jerk to her he'd admittedly been earlier. "Do you think we should go look for her?"
A relieved Faith nodded. "Yeah," she said, standing up also. "I don't like this. Buffy always let's us know where she's gonna be."
Faith pulled Sam up by the arm and the three of them grabbed their coats and went down to the motel entrance. "You guys check outside," Dean suggested. "I'll go talk to the manager."
Faith and Sam nodded in agreement and the three of them went their separate ways.
Okay, the manager was clearly an idiot.
"Short girl," Dean described in an exasperated tone for the third time, holding his hand up so high in the air. "Blonde hair, skinny. A couple of years younger than me. You seen her or not?"
Oliver was actually not an idiot at all. But he was short and fat and balding and he didn't like being talked to like some kind of jackass, especially not by young studs. In fact, he hated young studs more than anyone in the world. Especially buff ones. "She hot?" he inquired dumbly.
"Oh yeah." Perhaps he shouldn't have answered that so eager. Good thing Faith and Sam weren't around to hear him. "She has this really cute nose and lips that are like...when she's trying not to laugh they get all pursed and it's so-"
"Hey buddy, I asked if she was hot, not for a personal homage."
If Dean wasn't so manly, he'd have blushed. "So have you seen her?"
The manager pulled a faux puzzled face and eyed the wallet sticking out of Dean's pocket obviously. "I'm not sure. Can't really remember."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, seriously?"
Oliver the manager shrugged and smirked evilly.
Huffing, Dean pulled out a twenty and slapped it down on the counter. "Have. You. Seen. Her?"
"You know," Oliver replied, placing one pointed finger on the twenty and sliding it towards his side of the desk. "I think I just might have. Not forty minutes ago there was a pretty young blonde in here asking if the other room was still available."
Dean clenched his jaw. So that's how it was, was it? They have an argument and she gets all high and mighty and decides she's too good to share a room with the rest of them? "Room number?" His voice was acidic, but still the manager insisted on testing him.
"You know, my memory's getting kind of bad in my old age, I'm not sure I-"
Dean slammed down another twenty so hard that the whole counter shook. "Room number. Now."
Oliver gulped. "52."
Room number 52 was on the top floor, and Dean had stormed all five sets of stairs within the minute. Soon, he was outside Buffy's door, banging as hard as his fist would allow. Unsurprisingly, she didn't answer, though a few choice words were shouted out from behind other people's doors, and he could not describe how much he didn't care that he'd interrupted their precious sleep.
Dropping to his knees and rifling through his pockets for his lock-picking set, he set to work on the door and had it opened in seconds. They really needed to start staying in more secure motels.
The door pushed open with a low creak, and Dean was surprised to find the room empty, though the light was on. Dean's heart began to beat very loudly in his ears when he realized that the light switch was covered in bloody fingerprints, as was the wall around it, although they became smeared the further into the room they got.
"Buffy?" he called, striding forward. "Buffy?"
A quiet whimper sounded and he span around, spotting the light shining through the crack in the partially open bathroom door. He moved closer and pushed it open wider.
Every single little speck of anger completely vanished the second he spotted her, perched on the edge of the bathtub. She'd pulled her sweater up just underneath her breasts and everything suddenly became painfully clear to him as he took in the large, bloody gash, starting from just above her belly button and curling right around the side of her chest.
She looked up at him as he entered, and somehow didn't seem to be surprised to see him there. Well, she shouldn't be, he thought. He always seemed to be where she was.
Her eyes were dry, but he could tell that it was a forced effort. They were red and her cheeks were blotchy and she was clearly in a lot of agony as she tried to twist herself around to patch herself up. God, she was stubborn. Why the hell couldn't she have just told him about this before? Although he knew the answer to that – she was just as pigheaded as he was, especially about showing weaknesses. It made her feel powerless. And he hadn't exactly encouraged share time, what with the whole being a gigantic assbag to her thing.
Without saying a word, he dropped to his knees in front of her like a fallen man and pulled her hands away gently so that he could take a closer look. Holy crap, it was a deep one. It must have been done when they were battling the Waspaw and that was well over an hour ago and it was still bleeding freely. And that was a point...he didn't even remember this happening. He was sure he'd kept an eye on her the whole time she had been fighting, except for that time when she'd pushed him to the ground...
And it was with a painful jolt to the heart that Dean realized that she'd gone and gotten herself wounded trying to protect his ungrateful hide. She'd pushed him out of the way and gotten hit with the damn claw herself just so he didn't. She'd saved his life, and he hadn't even known.
His voice both felt and sounded raw when he next spoke. "You need stitches. We should get you to a hospital."
Buffy shook her head vehemently. "No, I don't...I'm fine, honestly."
"Sweetheart," he said softly. "You're losing blood. You need tending to."
"I know, I'll just...do it myself. I don't want to go to a hospital. Please."
There was something in the sound of her voice that halted any further argument he had planned to make. "Okay, no hospitals. But you still need stitches."
"Okay."
"Good girl." He pushed himself off of the floor and looked around expectantly. "Does this fleabag of a motel room have a first aid kit or what?"
Buffy handed him the small green box and he looked inside at the meager contents in disgust. "Jesus," he huffed. Rooting through his coat pockets, he pulled out a silver flask before taking off his jacket and throwing it to the side.
"You carry a flask around with you?" Buffy asked incredulously.
"Yuh huh," he answered, unscrewing the cap.
"Please tell me it has holy water in it."
"Not quite." He took a large gulp of the whiskey, closing his eyes in relief as the fiery substance floated down his throat, before holding it out to her.
She took it gingerly, dangling it between her thumb and forefinger as if it were something dirty. "You do know I'm not drinking this, right?"
"You do know that we have no other form of pain relief, right?"
She winced, conceding his point and brought it up for a long slug.
"Easy," he commented, trying very hard to hide his grin as she coughed loudly and stuck her tongue out in disgust. His grin faded, however, when the action caused her to gasped in pain. He knelt down in front of her once more. "Uh, you should probably take your sweater off."
Buffy raised her eyebrows in alarm. "But I'm not wearing anything underneath it."
"Not even a bra?" He tried not to sound too excited.
"Yes, dummy, I'm wearing a bra. I just meant I'm not wearing a vest or anything."
"Well...good. Because you'd probably have to take that off too It'll just get in my way otherwise." So he was lying. So she could probably just hold her sweater up with her hands while he worked. This was far more satisfying. For him.
With a huff, Buffy held her arms up and nodded.
Taking the hint, Dean curled his fingers around the bottom of her sweater, lifting it up...slowly. He allowed his fingers to purposely brush against her smooth skin, and he was sure he felt her shiver beneath his touch. Reluctantly, he finally pulled it up and over her head.
"This is gonna sting. A lot," he warned, picking up the flask again so that he could pour the alcohol over her wound.
Buffy bit her lip. Hard. She couldn't even watch as Dean threaded a long piece of cotton through the sharp needle.
"Hold on to my shoulder if you want," Dean offered. "But uh, don't break it or anything."
As he set to work, Buffy kept her head turned away. Her lip was still wedged in between her teeth and her eyes were clamped shut. Her skin was pale and clammy, and her breaths were shallow.
"You know," Dean, still stitching, said knowingly after a quick glance to her face. "The first time my dad ever had to stitch me up without pain relief, I cried like a baby."
Buffy opened one watery eye. "Really?"
"No," he lied. "But there might have been one or two...manly tears."
"And some masculine grunting?"
"With a couple of curse words thrown in for good measure."
"How old were you?"
"Fifteen."
She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly.
"Eighteen?" And when she still clearly didn't believe him, he admitted begrudgingly, "Twenty."
Buffy giggled and a single tear escaped the corner of her eye.
"That's my girl," he encouraged. She was allowing herself to cry in front of him, and though he hated to see her in so much pain, he was glad that she was opening herself up to let him in.
When he was done, he poured more of the whiskey over his finished work to clean it and took another swig. He offered it to her but this time she firmly declined with a hard shake of her head. Reaching out, he picked up a hand towel and patted dry the area around her injury as gently as he could. "All done."
"Thank you," she replied shyly.
Before he even knew what he was doing, Dean, still on his knees, leaned forward and pressed the softest of kisses to her belly button, just below where the injury began.
Buffy withheld a gasp at the unexpected action, but couldn't help closing her eyes in pleasure.
"You took the hit for me," Dean croaked, resting his trembling hands on Buffy's knees and bringing her out of her daze. "Why?"
Startled, Buffy looked down. She hadn't been expecting that question, not at all. Although logically she should have.
And what could she reply?
That she'd have done it for anyone? That she was the slayer and it was therefore her duty to save others at all costs, even her life?
Or she could reply that she'd seen that damned claw heading towards him about to deliver a fatal blow and her heart had almost shattered into a million pieces at the thought of him being dead. Or that twice now she'd dreamed of him and both of those dreams had been the best and the happiest dreams she'd ever had. Or that sometimes when she looked at him her heart started beating faster even though she knew that he was with Faith and she was totally breaking the sister code and if Faith ever found out that when he smiled at her he made her tummy feel all squirmy inside she'd probably kick both of their asses. Hard.
So instead, she lifted up one of her hands and raked her fingers softly through his hair. "I like your hair," she said flippantly. "I couldn't let hair like this go to waste." She hoped he'd understand, and that he wouldn't press harder for things she couldn't say. And he seemed to, because when she brought her hand down to his cheek, he simply turned his head and kissed her palm, before standing up and holding out his own hands to help her up. They moved into the other room and Buffy sank down onto the bed with a relieved sigh.
"Crap," Dean cursed as he took his phone out of the pocket of the jacket he had just picked up from the floor. When the hell had he put it on silent? Oh, that's right, when they had been in the park. And then he'd been so mad that he'd forgotten to turn it back up. He was such a bonehead.
"What's wrong?"
"Got a dozen missed calls off of Faith and Sam. They were out looking for you. Probably looking for me now too."
"Do me a favor?" Buffy asked, leaning cautiously back against the headboard.
"Sure."
"When you go back down to the room can you just make something up about where I am?"
"You're not coming back with me?"
She shook her head. "I'll stay up here tonight. Faith'll only feel guilty that I got hurt and she wasn't there to help me. She'll blame herself even though she had nothing to do with it and then she'll start worrying and going butt crazy and she'll end up doing something stupid like going after the demon by herself. It's a whole big thing."
Dean could understand that. If Buffy hadn't of needed him here he'd have probably done something dumb just like that too. But in the time it had taken to sew her up he'd managed to calm himself down and think rationally. He wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. "Well, what am I supposed to tell her and Sam about where you are?"
She smiled cheekily. "I dunno. Tell her you found me in some bar and I've gone home with some devastatingly handsome man and I'm in the process of being ravished."
Snorting, Dean had to remind himself that it wasn't actually true and there was no sane reason at all for him to be feeling jealous. Oh wait..."Don'tcha think Sam might be a little pissed that you're messing around with some other guy?"
Buffy scrunched up her nose in confusion. "What? Why would Sam care if I...oh!" Dean still thought she and Sam were doing it. She tried really hard, she did, but she found she just couldn't contain her giggles.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked grumpily.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She rested a hand on her wounded chest. "It's just, I think we need to set you straight on a few things."
"Finally!" Sam exclaimed as he heard his cell phone trilling in his pocket.
"That Dean?" an agitated Faith questioned.
He nodded and brought the phone up to his ear. "Dean? Where the hell have you been, man? Faith and I have called you like a hundred times! Where are you? Did you find Buffy?"
"I knew you weren't man enough to hook up with blondie!" Dean crowed down the other end of the phone, chuckling delightedly and successfully ignoring all of Sam's questions. "I can't believe you kept that going! That's hilarious!"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean?"
"What?"
"Where are you?"
"Oh," Dean replied nonchalantly. "I found Buffy and we're tracking the demon. We want to find out its other hiding places so we can kick some quick ass tomorrow when you find out how to kill this thing."
Sam relayed this information to Faith and she blew out a loud, relieved breath through blown up cheeks. "Thank God," she mouthed, directing it towards the sky, before turning back to glare at the phone by Sam's ear. "You better tell B that I'm gonna beat her puny little ass the next time I see her for getting me all stressed out!"
"Duly noted," an amused sounding Dean retorted, having heard Faith's speech.
"Well, me and Faith will head on back to the motel, do some more research then," Sam informed his brother. "We'll try and find out how to kill the Waspaw demon. What time will you guys be back?"
Dean was silent for a moment. "Uh...not sure. Don't wait up for us. We might not be back 'till morning."
"Dean, are you sure about this-"
"Sammy, relax. We won't even go near the thing. We're just tracking it, that's all. We'll only step in if it starts causing trouble."
"Okay," Sam said reluctantly. "Just stay safe. Both of you."
"Will do, little brother," Dean said cheerfully, before hanging up the phone.
Dean exited the bathroom and moved over to where Buffy was tucked up in bed, her eyes focused on the movie she was watching. "What's this?" he asked, kneeling one leg on the edge of the bed.
"'Burn After Reading'," she answered, glancing over at him with a smile. "It's not very good but it has George Clooney in it so I'm determined to watch the whole thing."
"Yeah, George Clooney's a babe."
Buffy giggled delightedly and moved over slightly, patting the space next to her. "Wanna watch with me?"
"Sure." He kicked off his boots and settled himself down on top of the covers, casting her a glance out of the corner of his eye. He'd given her his shirt to wear as her sweater and jeans had been crusted with dried blood. It was much to large for her. The shirttails came down almost to her knees and she'd had to role the sleeves up several times. But dammit, screw the tight jeans and the training outfits and the sexy dresses and the goddess costumes, Buffy wearing his shirt was by far the sexiest freakin' thing he'd ever seen. He coughed loudly and made a conscious effort to focus his attention on the television screen.
"What did you tell Sam and Faith?" Buffy asked curiously some time later.
"Told 'em we were tracking down the demon."
"'Kay. Good idea."
"Bound to happen sometime."
"But what are you gonna tell them when you go back to the room and I don't?"
Not that he planned on telling her or anything, but Dean wasn't actually intending on going back to the other room tonight. He wanted to stay here and watch over her. Sure, she seemed fine now, if a little pained, but what if she tripped and pulled her stitches and started bleeding and couldn't get help because she'd lost too much blood and couldn't move? Okay, unlikely, but he still wasn't leaving. "I'll think of something," he grunted. "I'll stay for the rest of this movie and then I'll head back." He was such a liar.
Buffy smiled sweetly at him before turning back to the TV, snuggling deeper into her pillow with a contented sigh.
Yeah, he wasn't leaving.
Dean awoke the next morning to the smell of Herbal Essence – he'd checked her bottle – and the feel of a soft, warm body wrapped around his own.
He grinned. Now this was heaven, dude.
Buffy's head was resting on his collarbone, tucked perfectly underneath his chin and her arm was lain across his chest, her little fingers gripping onto a handful of his gray t-shirt. The pale blue shirt she'd borrowed off of him had ridden up underneath her belly button some time during the night, and her legs were entwined firmly with his. His own sleepy hands hadn't been idle either. One was around her neck, laced through her mussed hair, and the other was gripping her panty encased bottom. Score for sleepy touchy hands.
She wasn't awake, which was probably a good thing, because although they'd been getting along better than they ever had before last night, she'd probably still beat him to a pulp for copping a feel when she was asleep, even if he hadn't been aware of it himself.
He'd move. Any minute now he'd move.
What the heck, she wasn't awake yet. He'd give it another ten minutes.
It was then that he became aware of just how hard he was, and of how his erection was pressing right into her chest.
Second thoughts, he'd better make that five.
There was something tickling Buffy's belly. Sleepily, she went to swat whatever it was away so that she could go back to sleep, but the tickling continued.
Reluctantly, she groaned and opened her eyes.
Any other time, Buffy might have freaked. She might have gone crazy, lost her rag, done something stupid. But one look at the curiosity on Dean's face and any misgivings she may have had completely vanished.
He was laying down next to her, although he'd scooched down the bed until his head was aligned with her belly. He'd pushed the shirt she was wearing right up until it rested just underneath her breasts, and he was tracing her almost healed wound with a look of wonderment upon his face. Goosebumps rose up on her skin and Buffy had to press her thighs together tightly. Did he know what he was doing to her?
"Hey," he breathed, realizing that she'd awoken.
"Hey."
He looked down at his finger guiltily, though he didn't remove it. "I was just..."
She smiled reassuringly. "I know."
"You're almost healed." He sounded so bewildered.
Buffy smiled and giggled softly, placing her hand over his and rubbing his wrist with her thumb. "Accelerated healing powers. Slayer perk."
"We could probably take your stitches out by lunchtime."
"Good. There's an experience I don't wanna remember." She rubbed her sleepy eyes and yawned.
Fuck, she was adorable.
Dean sat up and stretched, and Buffy's breath caught in her throat. "Sam called a couple of minutes ago."
"Huh?"
He held up his phone. "I said Sam called a couple of minutes ago."
"Oh. What'd he say?"
"Found out how to kill the demon. And about freakin' time."
"Dean!" Buffy swatted him on the arm. "They've probably been researching all night! While we've been here. Asleep." She paused and frowned. "Why are you here, by the way?"
He shrugged and flopped down on his back next to her. "Must have fallen asleep during the movie," he lied. He'd fallen asleep way after the film had finished, checking her heartbeat was regular and that she was breathing properly and just watching her sleep.
"Oh. Me too. So?"
"So?
"Demon. How do we kill it?"
"Oh. Just have to stab it through the heart."
Buffy looked confused and pouted. "But I did that. It just laughed at me. Obnoxiously."
"Heart's not in its chest."
"Oh. Where is it?"
Dean grinned. "Hands."
"What? Ew. That's...weird."
He chuckled. "Gives a whole new meaning to holding your heart in your hands, right."
"Lame," Buffy said with a snort, although Dean could see a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Dean grinned at her happily for a moment, before rolling out of bed and holding out his hand to her in one smooth flourish. "'Bout time we went and kicked some fugly demon ass, huh?" His voice was low and inviting. Seductive. It caused Buffy's skin to tingle.
She bit her lip and looked up at him with sparkling eyes, slipping her hand into his much larger one. "Definitely."