The Song Remains the Same
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural Crossover
A/N: Set six years after Sunnydale, so Buffy is about 28ish. AU (obviously). Starts during Season 4's "The Rapture" (goes on into "When the Levee Breaks," "Lucifer Rising," and "Sympathy for the Devil"). Spoilers for all of Buffy, Season 4 of Supernatural.
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"Come on, Slayer," the vampire teased, baring two long, yellowed canines. "What are you waiting for?" His shaggy, scraggly hair hung over his bumpy forehead, and he looked just like a punk kid with too many pimples on his face. He'd probably just been turned, and here he was, challenging her. Buffy narrowed her eyes at the vamp across the slick grass of an old abandoned lot, a wooden stake clutched in her hand.
"Retirement," Buffy hissed. The vampire lunged at her, his arms outstretched as though attempting to morph into a bat. He growled, showing off those pointed teeth. His eyes glowed like stars. Buffy dropped easily down to one knee and thrust up, shoving the stake up into his chest as he dropped over her like a cape. The dust of his remains floated down around her, flakes of the first snow.
A few drops of blood rolled down into the space between her lip and gums. Buffy wiped it away with the back of her hand and got to her feet. She stretched for a moment, cracking her scapula against one another. Muttering under her breath, she picked up the bag of weapons she'd left beside a gravestone and slung it up onto her shoulder.
"Six vamps in one night," she frowned. "You'd think I was living on the Hellmouth again."
It had been five years since Buffy last lived on the mouth of Hell, the one in Cleveland mind you. Sunnydale had perished a few years before that, burned to a smoking crater from which she'd barely escaped. After the Slayer army had taken up residence in various Watcher's Council-funded strongholds around the world, Buffy Summers had taken an extended leave of absence. The new warriors didn't really need her, right? She could find a job, retire from a life of battle, have a little peace.
"Right," she chuckled. "Peace and quiet. I must have been high thinking that."
She packed up a couple of bags, dumped Dawn off at college, waved goodbye to the Scoobies, all of whom were now involved in the Slayer Army, and moved to New York. But still, she didn't seem to escape anything, not really. The vampires were still here, and it seemed like their numbers were increasing. She ran into ghosts and demons, apocalyptic types all of them. Why was everyone so anxious to end the world anyway? She sighed and walked down into the bowels of the city subway, ignoring the homeless guy peeing on the wall, the old lady shivering under a blanket, the junkie staring blindly at the ceiling. At least New York didn't have its own Hellmouth. It had enough problems.
On the train, Buffy's phone beeped impatiently. She lifted the device out of her pocket and eyeballed it. Xander's name blinked on the screen, waiting for a reply. She noted the time, just past five in the morning. The cars would soon fill with cubicle drones, secretaries, inside sales people. Buffy pocketed the phone without opening the new message and hopped off the train. She reached up into the ponytail of blond hair on her head and pulled out some strands of damp grass, some small twigs. The Laundromat loomed ahead of her like a bad omen, maybe because she lived on top of it. Her home never failed to smell like dryer fluff.
Buffy walked down the hall, reaching for the keys stuffed in her pocket. The blood in her mouth found a new outlet, through a small cut across her cheekbone. Shoving the keys in the lock, she turned it and reached inside to turn on the light. A streak of yellow-orange filled the living room, illuminating a man standing in its center. Buffy ripped a knife from her pocket and dropped the rest of the weapons bag on the floor. It spilled open, dumping stakes, axes, holy water, and a number of other things on the floor.
"Thought this would be your lucky night, eh? Break into some chick's apartment, steal her radio and her jewelry, and then take advantage of her on the bathroom floor? Am I close? You're barking up the wrong tree."
"I will not harm you." The man looked at her, his face expressionless, his mouth a straight line.
"Can't say I'd say the same. I'm giving you one chance to haul ass out of here before I haul it out for you." Buffy pushed her stuff out of the doorway with her foot and held the door wide open for him. The man did not move. He stood stiffly in the center of the room.
"Miss Summers, we need to talk." He spoke quietly, but with determination.
"The last time I heard that line, I got stuck in a dead-end job. And I mean dead. Capital D." Buffy smacked the door shut and advanced on the man in her living room. He wore a khaki colored trench coat over a dark suit and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He didn't look like a typical burglar/rapist, but if Buffy Summers had ever learned anything, it was that judging a book by its cover was pretty useless.
"So spill it, who are you?" Buffy held up the knife.
"I am Castiel," he replied. "You may stab me if you wish, but it will do me no harm."
"I feel like I'm in a murder movie," Buffy sighed. "'We have ways of making you talk.' Will you just tell me why you're here? I hate all this cryptic Watcher crap. And that's what you are, aren't you? A Watcher. Look, I've had two. One died and the other moved on to watch other slayers. There are other Slayers. Go watch them."
"I am not a watcher, Buffy. I am an angel of the Lord."
"Uh huh, and I'm the Easter Bunny." Buffy shook her head. Her stomach rumbled impatiently. The night had been a long one, and she could really go for Dawn's favorite bedtime snack: all flavors of cereal mixed together in a big bowl.
"Look, I'm starving, Watcher Boy. Can I interest you in a Diet Coke and a bowl of Lucky Charms? And then you can march your trench coat right out of here. I'm not interested. I'm retired." With that, Buffy walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. She pocketed the knife again, just in case. Maybe this was a psycho Watcher or something. She'd seen those too.
"I do not need food," Castiel replied, somewhat confused. He followed her slowly into the kitchen, a ramshackle sort of room with pots and pans in the sink, dead roach bodies on the floor, and a bald lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Hey, don't judge," Buffy smirked, glancing at the look on his pale face. "I have a job. The hours are terrible. The pay is miniscule. This was pretty much all I could afford on a Slayer's salary."
Buffy began pouring and mixing her cereal: Lucky Charms and Raisin Bran and Corn Pops. She poured in a cup of skim milk and turned a spoon through the bowl. Grabbing a can of Diet Coke out of the fridge, she sat down on a rickety plastic chair and scooped a spoonful of grains into her mouth.
"I am not a Watcher, Buffy Summers. I am an angel of the Lord. I need your help. The world needs your help."
"Still retired," Buffy said cheerfully.
"Then why, if you are retired, have you killed twenty vampires and two demons this week? Why have you exorcised a ghost from the abandoned church in Queens? Why do you continue to help the helpless?"
"Nothing better to do?"
"Do you not wonder why the activity here is so incredible? You have told yourself there is no Hellmouth here, and yet you do as much work as you ever did in Sunnydale."
"Okay, you're reading my thoughts now? That's just not cool, okay? Those are my private thoughts. Private. Look it up." Buffy dropped her spoon in the bowl and shot him a look.
"I have followed you, watched you from above. We are proud of your work, proud to support you, Buffy. We need you in this great battle."
"If you like me so much, how come you pulled me out again?" Buffy got to her feet this time, crossed her arms over her chest, raised an eyebrow. Her green eyes blazed. "How come you let them bring me back?"
"It was not your time to leave," Castiel frowned. "You were still needed."
"And now? With the Slayerettes? You don't need me anymore. No one does. I'm like the Slayer put out to pasture."
"They cannot win this battle, Buffy. Only you can…"
"Prevent forest fires?" Buffy interrupted. "Look, pal, I'm done. You can tap Faith. She's reformed. I here she's a decent leader now. Or maybe Willow. All powerful witch, brought me back to this pit from the big grassy meadow of Heaven. But whatever it is you're looking for, I'm not interested."
"The world will end, Slayer. Your family, your friends, the innocent people you protect every night. It will all end."
"I always wondered what would happen if it did end," Buffy said quietly. She sat back down beside her cereal bowl. She looked down at the colored milk, but suddenly lost her appetite. "All my life, I've been fighting apocalypses. But what would happen if it ended? Would it all turn black? Would we all go poof?"
"In my experience, it is not so simple as a fade to black."
"So the world's going to end? Again?"
"It hasn't actually ended yet. You have been our champion, Buffy. Please, take up our sword one last time. After this, I promise, you will have your retirement."
"And a cookie? I want a cookie. Chocolate chip."
Castiel turned his head to one side, like a confused but very cute puppy. He held out a hand to her, and Buffy got out of the chair. She looked down at her unfinished breakfast. Dawn popped into her head like an omen. Whatever was out there, whatever the end of the world had in store for her, at least she could say she was protecting her family. Xander and Willow could take care of themselves. Giles had a whole pile of Slayers to watch his tweedy back. But Dawn? Dawn was under a big ol' Ivy League roof. Sure, they kept an eye on her, but really, only Buffy could protect her from the Big Bad. With that in mind, Buffy took the angel's hand.
"Where are we going, anyway?" She asked.
"To visit another champion."
"Oh great," Buffy frowned. "Scoobies, Part 2."
Tendrils of wind tickled Buffy's face, brushing back the ponytail still tied into her hair. She stood on a dock, alongside the aluminum chair of a man with a fishing pole. Over his head, she looked at Castiel, his trench coat flapping in the breeze. The two men stared out at the water, contemplative and quiet. A line buoy floated on top of the water.
"We need to talk," Castiel said firmly.
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" The man in the chair asked, his face turning up. Buffy admired the straightness of his nose, the brightness of his green eyes. She chuckled, inwardly, at the deep huskiness of his voice. Was that intentional?
"It's not safe here. Someplace more private."
"More private? We're inside my head."
"Exactly," Castiel frowned. For the first time, Buffy noticed that he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Did angels sleep? "Someone could be listening."
"Cas, what's wrong?"
"Meet me here." Castiel said, handing the man a piece of folded white paper. "Go now."