(4/9/2017) New job, new stress, but finally got this sucker done. Totally prepared for the conclusion of Book II. Maybe. Kinda sorta.
Thank you jkmp28, RHatch89, thedarkpokemaster, IoSolUno, Maverick500, philly cheese dude, and Mystery Guest for the reviews! And special stickers for everyone favoriting and following!
The number of salt containers Sam was looking at made him recalculate how high Dean's cholesterol and blood pressure must be. If this was how much they fed teenagers, he dreaded finding out the content of the burgers and fries his brother inhaled on a near daily basis.
"Got a crate," Dean announced. He began pulling cylinders from the shelves and dumping them into his makeshift storage box.
Sam swung his flashlight around the kitchen. Some large knives were drying near the sink. "You ever think of going on a diet?" he asked as he walked over to get the improvisational weaponry.
"What?"
"I mean, your arteries probably look like an eighty-year-old's."
"Dude, I'm not eating rabbit food."
"Why not try it at least? I mean, think about how much longer you'll… live."
Sam trailed off, acutely aware of how uncomfortable the silence between them became. He knew Dean's constant partaking of debauchery and drink was due to his conviction that, one month from now, he'd be in Hell. But for all the hopelessness and dead ends, Sam had yet to give up hope. In his mind, some Hail Mary was undoubtedly going to appear and save his brother. There had to still be that one piece of lore, that uncovered book, that powerful spell just waiting to be discovered.
"Check it out," Dean suddenly said. He held up a large, unlabeled can and shook it vigorously. "Mystery meat. Dare you to eat it."
Sam rolled his eyes and started to retort when the skinny, head-camera wearing youth from the Ghostfacers came charging through the kitchen doors. The boy slammed them shut and leaned up against the knobs. "Bees! Bees! Bees!" he shrieked.
The brothers exchanged bewildered glances. "What?" asked Dean.
"Bees everywhere!" The young man let loose a shrill scream when Sam put a hand on his shoulder.
"Whoa whoa whoa! Calm down." Sam shined his light into the boy's face. "What bees?"
With a whine, the Ghostfacer pointed. Dean hurried into the cafeteria, tiptoed around the carpet of snakes, and peered cautiously into the hallway. He leaned back inside the room and announced, "There's a freaking cloud of bugs at the library doors."
Sam swept his flashlight about. "There," he said as he pointed at a small, high window. He looked back at the boy and asked, "Okay, what's your name?"
"Alan."
"All right. Me and my brother, we're going to break that window open, okay? And you're just small enough to get through. Go to our car and into the trunk. There's some shot guns and a box of shells that say 'rock salt' on them. Bring them right back here."
"B-B-But…"
Sam gave Alan a reassuring smile. "You can do this." The young man swallowed then nodded affirmatively.
"You fuck up my car and I'll blow your damn head off," warned Dean as he handed over the keys.
Alan eyed Dean with a good amount of trepidation as Sam grabbed a mop and slammed the wooden end through the glass. He spent a few moments clearing shards from the edges before laying several towels down on the sill. The brothers then hauled Alan up and out of the opening and watched him sprint for the parking lot.
"How'd you know James would even let him through the window?" asked Dean.
"Didn't," Sam replied. "Had to try something."
"Well, let's just hope he's smarter than his dumbass friends and actually follows directions."
Alan saw that there were only four cars in the lot: their Ghostfacer van, a red Mercedes, a dilapidated something that was tiny and gray, and a sleek black muscle car. For a moment, the boy considered hopping into their van and curling into a little ball until the night was over. Then he remembered that Ed was still trapped inside.
This was his time to shine, to show Ed what he was really made of! Alan continued jogging towards the cars and was stopped by a soft, "Hey."
When the young man turned, he saw a tall, handsome older man in a long, black coat smiling worriedly at him. "Did you come from the school?" the stranger asked.
"Um," Alan managed. Really, Ed was the greatest and Alan would never betray him, but this man was just distractingly attractive.
"I was just asking because my girlfriend… well, she said she had a late study session and she was supposed to meet me afterwards." The man gave a shaky laugh. "I'm just worried. This town isn't exactly safe after dark."
Alan recalled that there were three teenaged girls inside the library. "What does she look like?"
"Blonde, short, kinda cute."
"Oh! Yeah, she's in there, but there's something, well, of paranormal significance," —he'd have to thank Ed for that particular phrase— "and it would be best if you stayed out here."
"Really?" the man said doubtfully.
Alan nodded superciliously. In present company his knowledge of the otherworldly was certainly far greater. "There are things out there. Otherworldly things that would blow your mind. I've seen them."
"Huh." The stranger smirked. "Well, then what would you say if you saw this?"
Bones crunched and skin stretched right before Alan's eyes. The young man barely had time for a strangled scream before the thing was on him and burying its fangs into his neck.
Sam and Dean were searching for something that might shield them from being stung when Alan's cry floated in from the broken window. Both brothers rushed towards the opening and peered out. Far off in the distance they could just barely make out Alan's body, eyes and mouth distended in horror. Blood was pooled on the concrete beneath his head.
"Goddamnit," cursed Dean. "Stupid vampire town."
"Come on," Sam urged. They headed for the cafeteria exit, heedless of the reptilian flooring, Dean in the lead.
The elder brother peered cautiously out the door. "Bugs ain't moving," he whispered. He edged slowly into the hallway and began walking cautiously towards the insects.
Sam put one foot out and immediately a contingent detached itself from the swarm and zoomed towards him. Immediately Dean turned around, ran, and shoved his brother back inside the room. He then took off the opposite way shouting obscene imprecations at the bugs and waving his arms wildly.
"Dean!" shouted Sam. He tried to exit again and found the insects buzzing angrily at him. When he bravely took a step forward, one stung him.
"Shit!" The pain was blinding, far worse than any bee or wasp should have been. It took what felt like forever for his vision to return. When a second, and then a third, insect landed on his arm, Sam tried in vain to shake them off. They raised their stingers expectantly and stared at him. When the hunter stepped back towards the cafeteria, they lifted away from his skin. When he stepped towards the hallway, they jabbed him.
A snake was tonguing his earlobe curiously signifying that, somehow, Sam was now lying on the floor. He groaned and did his best to stand, all to no avail. Whatever was going on James did not want him involved, and until the insects' venom had run its course (hopefully without killing him) it looked like Dean was on his own.
Dean ran up the stairs and down a few hallways before he realized the insects were no longer following. He let loose a few of his favorite profanities and started stomping back towards the cafeteria.
"Oh, now lookie what we got here."
Immediately Dean turned and looked for a chair, a pencil, a ruler, anything wooden to shove into the vampire's chest. Angelus was quicker, his fist connecting hard with Dean's face. The monster followed up with a demonic growl as he slammed the hunter's face into the grate of a locker.
Dean managed to put his hands up in time to prevent the metal from gouging his face, but his head rang from the impact nonetheless. The vampire flipped him around. "You know, Dean," Angelus said, maliciously happy, "I've been waiting to do this ever since we met."
"Yeah?" The hunter leaned in and snarled, "Get it over with then."
"Now what kind of fun would that be? See, what I'm thinking is that we have ourselves a little fun. Afterwards I can decorate the hallways with your body parts and leave them for that little sister of yours to find."
"You're the only one I can talk to."
Both man and vampire snapped their heads towards the Slayer. Her face was pointed at the floor, and her dialogue and tone were definitely out of character if she had arrived to rescue her brother. "Buffy?" Dean ventured.
Angelus smashed his hand into Dean's face and slammed the hunter's skull into the locker again. Stunned, Dean slumped to the linoleum as the vampire taunted, "I don't know what would be more pathetic: if you were talking about me or the self-hating pretty-boy on the floor there."
"You can't make me disappear just because you say it's over," Buffy uttered as she lifted her eyes. Dean's head cleared just enough to see the mix of fury and misery within his sister's green gaze.
The vampire chuckled, his lips twisted into a wry smirk. "Actually, I can. In fact…"
Within one moment and the next, Angelus changed. The expression of sadistic amusement melted into desperation, misery, and, oddly, love. "I just want you to have some kind of a normal life," he cried. "We can never have that! Don't you see?"
Incredulous, Dean scrambled to his feet. He lunged for the vampire just as the same, rotted blue arm that had accosted Xander burst from the nearest locker and wrapped itself around his neck. The hunter pulled desperately, choking, but the corpse's limb had a firm grip. In his struggles, he missed a portion of the conversation only to be jerked back to it when Buffy shouted, "Then tell me you don't love me. Say it!"
Dean stopped trying to free himself, realization of the pair's possession dawning on him, as Angelus quietly replied, "Will that help? Is that what you want to hear?" The vampire's eyes filled with tears. "I don't. I don't. Now let me go!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean grumbled and resumed pulling against his restraints. "Stupid-ass chick flick shit." He risked fumbling inside the locker and, surprisingly, came up with a butterfly knife. Thanking whatever delinquent had stashed the weapon away, the hunter flipped the blade open and began hacking at the arm. He paused when Buffy screamed, "Don't walk away from me, bitch!"
The corpse suddenly dropped Dean as his sister and her former boyfriend fled to the balcony. Before he could pursue the haunted pair an unseen force yanked his ankle and pulled him, roaring angrily, down the hallway and into the music room. He was then flung into an instrument locker (where his elbow promptly crunched through a tuba case) and locked inside.
Kicking, punching, and cursing the doors did nothing to alleviate his situation. Either the ghost had shut the thing up tight or the band boosters had gone over and beyond in supplying the school with security for their property. Dean paused to catch his breath and the expected gunshot rang out. He renewed his efforts with more vigor.
The doors had just enough space between them to peer out. When Buffy entered the room, her brother shouted and banged on his prison. Without acknowledging the clamor, the Slayer picked up a record, inserted it into a player, and hit a button. The fact that neither object had existed a moment before didn't seem to phase her. She turned towards the trophy cabinet and Dean saw a young, handsome boy in a letterman jacket staring back.
The hunter's breath caught. His sister was still holding the goddam gun! And now, just as James had done fifty years prior, Buffy lifted the barrel and placed it on her temple.
As Dean cried out in denial, he was shocked to see Angelus return… and gently move the gun away. "Don't do this," he said.
"Grace? But I… I killed you."
"It's not your fault. It was an accident."
"It is my fault! How could I let this—"
"I'm the one who should be sorry, James. You thought I stopped loving you. But I never did. I loved you with my last breath."
Buffy wept and Dean cringed. It was obvious why James had chosen his sister for this posthumous act of redemption. He could see where this was leading, and he grimaced. Even when Angelus was Angel Buffy's brother was loathe to witness their intimacies.
"No more tears," Angelus murmured and, just as Dean feared, the pair passionately kissed.
"James, you prick," Dean snarled to the spirit. "At least let me out so I can smack down that son of a bitch."
The tableau seemed to freeze. Dean looked around in confusion before spotting James' reflection staring at him in the mirror. The two of them watched the bright light that was Grace's spirit lift majestically towards Heaven. Dean looked back at the boy and saw that abject terror had taken root. Silently, the spirit mouthed a final request.
Don't give up. Find a way.
Smoke, black and thick, began seeping in from the corners of the mirror. James gazed downwards at something ghastly, something that had him soundlessly screaming. The cloud then enveloped the boy. His visage spasmed once, twice, and then was gone.
Dean swallowed. James, the idiot, was trying to remind him of how horrific it was to be consigned to Hell. The hunter realized that he had gone complacent, apathetic even, over his impending doom. He'd forgotten, somehow, that where he was headed to was not merely empty death, but somewhere far, far worse.
Somewhere that would leave him with black eyes.
Angry at himself, Dean pounded the door of his prison. The sound was followed by the wet smack of two sets of lips parting one another. In a small voice, Dean heard his sister wonder, "Angel?"
With a vampiric growl, Angelus shoved Buffy away. To Dean's amusement, the creature wiped his mouth on his sleeve and bolted from the room. "Hah!" the hunter barked.
A moment later, a tear-streaked Buffy tore open the cabinet doors. Surprised, Dean fell face first onto the thin carpet. "How long were you in there?" his sister asked.
Dean picked himself off the floor. "Long enough."
"How much did you see?"
"Way too frigging much."
Buffy sighed shakily. "He picked me. He knew."
Without hesitation Dean wrapped his sister in a tight, wordless embrace. He was far from being an expert at relationship issues (and no one could claim they had experienced a parallel of Buffy's spectacularly unnatural circumstances), but he could at least offer his sympathy. That and a distraction. "Hey. You, me, Sammy: we need to talk."
Buffy gave an indelicate sniff. "About?"
"Me."
Buffy's friends both celebrated and griped about the school now being free of a homicidal ghost and its subsequent ability to resume hosting normal academic drudgery. As a group they found a recovering Sam in a now serpentine-free cafeteria and then headed for the exit.
The Ghostfacers clamored for details of the Slayer's spiritual encounter until Dean snapped at them that Alan was dead. After that they were silent as they hurried for the parking lot to recover the poor young man's body.
"That was mean," Sam told Dean quietly. "You could have prepared them a little more."
"Yeah? They deserved it." The eldest brother looked pointedly at their still miserable sister.
"Fair enough."
When they reached the remaining Ghostfacers, Ed was kneeling next to Alan and carefully covering the dead boy's head with his jacket while the young Asian woman (whose name was apparently Maggie) phoned 911. Harry, however, was having a heated debate with Giles while his cameraman recorded the exchange.
"If you do not give me every single recording right now," the Watcher was threatening, "I will call down every resource at my disposal and have the lot of you arrested and committed for the rest of your natural lives."
"With what army?" Harry scoffed. "This is America, man; we've got freedom of the press. The public has the right to know about the existence of the paranormal! Go back to your tea-sipping island and oppress people over there instead before we reenact the Revolutionary War right here and now!" The Ghostfacer completed his declaration by folding his arms and gazing smugly at his opponent.
Giles pinched the bridge of nose and while doing his best to withhold both a verbal and physical explosion. His Slayer solved the dilemma by yanking the heavy camera off of Kenny's shoulder. She gripped the center of the equipment (where things looked especially expensive) and began to pull, much to the loud consternation of the Ghostfacers.
"Okay okay okay!" Harry shouted. "Just don't break it. I don't have a thousand bucks just lying around."
"Good," Giles said firmly. "I won't have more of your sort showing up and dying because of this idiocy. Sam, Willow, would you two please go over their equipment and make sure everything is deleted?" The named pair nodded and, after Sam appropriated the camera from a smirking Buffy, followed Maggie and Harry to their van.
"Hey, man," Dean said as he knelt down beside Ed. "I'm sorry."
Ed mumbled something about Alan having had a crush on him, but didn't bother to clarify further. Dean shook his head and stood up. "We better get going," he informed the others.
"Ugh, this was such a waste of time," Cordelia complained. "I could have been home doing something useful. Like sleeping."
"Hate to agree," added Buffy as she looked up at her brother, "but she's right. I'm beat. Can whatever it is wait until morning?"
"No," he replied. "Soon as Sammy's done we'll talk."
Sam and Buffy peered apprehensively at their elder brother as they walked towards a park table. They weren't worried about being interrupted; late as it was the only miscreants that might disturb them wouldn't have been human and, between the three of them, would be easily taken care of.
As Buffy claimed rights to the table itself by climbing up and placing her feet on the bench, Sam leaned against the side and asked, "Well?"
Dean sighed. "Look, I know you two got my best interests in mind and whatever, but the coddling stops now. No more keeping me away from hunting."
"But—" began Buffy.
"Uh-uh!" her brother denied. "No buts! I'm going freaking stir-crazy being the goddamn library monkey. I gotta go out and do what I'm meant to do: save people, hunt things. And, you know, while I'm out there I need to be looking for a way out of this deal, too."
"What brought the change of heart?" Sam asked.
"James. I saw what happened to him, how fucking terrified he was to get dragged down." Dean wiped a hand down his face and stared at the grass. "I don't want to die. I don't want to go to Hell. But I haven't been doing anything about it other than screwing and drinking to try and forget. Time I face facts and start dealing with this shit."
"Hooray for homicidal ghosts," Buffy quipped. She hopped down off of the table and stretched. "So… want to patrol with me tomorrow?"
Dean grimaced. "Vampires? C'mon. That's amateur crap."
"Amateur!" cried the indignant Slayer. "I'll amateur you —"
Sam sighed and grabbed the back of his sister's shirt, both irritated and relieved that his siblings were back to their childish bickering. It had been extraordinarily difficult for him these past few weeks with his brother maudlin over his crossroads deal and Buffy wracked with guilt over Angel's fate. This new attitude from the both of them nearly had him smiling. "So what's first?"
"Sleep," Dean proclaimed. "Then I think we get Bobby here. Can't hurt to have another hunter around."
Buffy beamed in anticipation of time with their adopted uncle. "I'll see if Giles will let him stay at his place."
"Awesome. Oh, hey. Tell him that I quit. No more being his lame-ass assistant."
The three sauntered their way back to the Impala, laughing and mocking one another as if they were any other set of siblings. Hope, as small and baseless as it was, had been rekindled. Perhaps, in the end, there wouldn't be cause for sorrow after all.
Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "I Only Have Eyes For You" (BtVS 2.19).
Author's Note : I know I changed James' fate, but the dude committed murder and suicide. Didn't think that Heaven was in the cards.
