(6/1/2017) I write off of my phone which finally caught the so-called 6-Plus "touch disease," and now my new phone is correcting all my "Buffys" into "Buddy".

Realized I made Dean's stint in Hell kinda short. Changed the dates in the past two chapters.

Thank you philly cheese dude, jkmp28, Sage of Wind Dragons, IoSolUno, thedarkpokemaster, and Authoressinhiding for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get millions of peaches!


Dean called Sam shortly after the so-called angel's departure and told him to meet them back at Bobby's house. He gave his brother a terse warning to not ever take the Impala again without asking or Dean would make sure Sam would never, ever be able to produce any mini-Sams, now or in the future.

From the first mile Buffy and Dean began arguing over whether or not the Castiel thing was telling the truth and couldn't come to any sort of concession, much to Bobby's chagrin. Dean was dead set on refuting the proof; that those wings could have been anything, an illusion maybe. Buffy argued that Dean himself had gone to Hell, that their father had gone to Hell, that there were demons roaming the Earth, so why not angels?

They circled around and around until, an hour in, Bobby finally told them both to shut their cake holes or he'd make them walk. The pair fumed silently for the remainder of the trip.

Sam said he was still a half hour or so out when they arrived at the salvage yard. His siblings took the opportunity to claim the better sleeping areas (Buffy on the couch and Dean on the expanse of floor right beside it) rather than wait for him.

In the morning, the debate continued.

"Look," Dean said, frustrated, "all I know is I was not groped by an angel!"

Buffy threw her hands up and let them drop. "Then what was he, huh? Is he some kind of big bird man thing? Caw! Caw! I flew Dean Winchester out of Hell because he has such great big pouty lips!"

"Again, how do you even know those were real? Did you touch them? Did you even see anything other than a stupid shadow? And my lips are not pouty!"

"Okay," Sam inserted, "then what was it exactly?"

"I dunno!" Dean cried. "Maybe it was some kind of demon. Demons lie!"

"Because demons are totally interested in not keeping you in Hell," retorted Buffy.

"Maybe I was giving them too much shit down there, you think of that?"

Sam started ticking points off of his fingers. "You said he was immune to salt rounds, devil's traps, hell, Ruby's knife! What else could he be?"

"Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one at some point… ever?"

"Yeah. You just did, Dean."

The room went blessedly silent for a few moments (much to Bobby's relief). "Giles!" Dean said suddenly. "Let's call the Watcher."

"No," Buffy said.

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't talked to him in months."

"Excuse me?" Dean's volume rose. "Are you telling me that not only does your mom not know where you are, but your fucking Watcher has no clue you're out here?"

"Yeah, so?" his sister threw back.

Fueled by his frustration over the angel argument as well as the stress of suppressing his memories of Hell, Dean stepped up to the considerably smaller teenaged girl and let loose a loud, obscenity laden tirade. "Oh this is fan-fucking-tastic! Fucking unbelievable, Buffy! Does a single fucking person back in Sunnydale know where you are? What the fuck were you thinking? Were you thinking at all? The fuck happened after I died? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Rising on her tiptoes, Buffy screamed right back, "Well, fuckity fuck fuck fuck! FUCK YOU, DEAN!" She immediately spun on her heel and fled into the salvage yard, slamming the rickety screen door as hard as she could.

Sam opened his mouth a few times, bereft of commentary, before pressing his lips together angrily and chasing after his sister. Dean considered throwing a few more invectives their way and decided to kick a kitchen cabinet door instead.

From his desk in the other room, Bobby remarked, "Well. That was interesting. Idjit," he tacked on after Dean glowered at him.


"Buffy, wait!" Sam called. Buffy had only several seconds worth of lead on him but she'd gone a good distance already. Luckily for him she skidded to a halt between the carcass of a sedan and a stack of smashed vehicles of indeterminate origin.

"What?" Buffy snapped as she turned towards her younger brother.

"Are you okay?"

The diminutive blonde let loose a sardonic laugh. "Now you're concerned about me?"

The siblings stared at one another, the past several months laying thick between them. "Look," Sam finally said, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're sorry. Sam Winchester is sorry. Well good on you!" Buffy snarled. "I'm so happy for you."

"What do you want me to say?" her brother shouted back.

"Say? You wanna say something?" Buffy's voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "How about telling me what the hell you've been doing with that 'girlfriend' of yours?"

They were at a sufficient distance and barricaded by enough derelict vehicles that their words wouldn't carry to the house. Nevertheless, Sam spoke quietly. "I told you. She wants to learn how to hunt, so that's what I've been doing. Training her."

Buffy folded her arms and scowled at her brother. "She's not human."

Startled, Sam stuttered, "Wh-What makes you say that?"

His sister pointed at herself. "Slayer. Or were you so wrapped up in whatever it is that you forgot? Your so-called girlfriend makes my skin crawl, so she's either a vampire or a demon."

Sam swallowed. He had forgotten, as unlikely as that was. He'd been so distracted… "You can't tell Dean."

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand! You haven't told me anything! So tell me now or I swear to God—"

"What?" Sam snapped, his voice rising. "You'll beat it out of me? Smack me around again just to make yourself feel better?"

"That's not why I did it and it was only once!" Buffy shouted. "And you know perfectly well why it happened!"

"You two knuckleheads done?"

Bobby's query silenced the quarreling pair. In the ensuing quiet, the elder hunter said, "I finally got Dean convinced that we got angels around now. Or mostly convinced. Or at least he's shut up about it. Anyhoo, he wants you to go and get him some pie." Bobby handed Sam the keys to his truck.

"Why am I not driving the Impala?"

"'Cause apparently you went and took it without askin' and now you're grounded." Sam rolled his eyes and walked off.

Concerned by the glimmer of unshed tears in Buffy's eyes, Bobby placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, "You okay?"

"Can I go live in some parallel universe where I'm an only child and those two jackasses don't exist?"

"If only, kid. C'mon, best we head on back."


Sam took his time running his errand. When he finally made it back he discovered that Bobby had gotten himself worked up into a worried frenzy over a friend of his, Olivia Lowry. Sam handed the bag to his brother who was appalled that his brother had forgotten the pie. The uncharacteristic mistake had Buffy narrowing her eyes suspiciously. It turned out to be the first of many, many woes.

Buffy insisted that the sight of Olivia's mangled chest was nothing new on her end and volunteered to go with Bobby to check on some other hunters. Her brothers went off in another direction to do the same. Neither pair found anything reassuring; every hunter they visited was dead.

After they'd checked on the final one it was near morning and, as they were only an hour out from the salvage yard, Bobby and Buffy headed back to the house. Sam and Dean said it would take them an additional hour or so to join them.

"Now what?" Buffy groused as they walked inside.

"I got some books to be lookin' into," Bobby told her. "How about you get some coffee going?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Bobby went to the living room as Buffy hustled about the kitchen. She had the coffee percolating in no time. While she watched the liquid drop into the pot, her phone rang. It was Sam. "Yeah?"

"Everything okay?"

"So far. Chest still holding hearts in on our end. You guys?"

There was a second's hesitation before Sam admitted, "I think it's starting to happen to us. I just saw Agent Henriksen."

"That FBI guy?"

"Yeah. It's ghosts. Like, seriously pissed off ghosts. Can you let Bobby know?"

"Yup." Buffy hung up the call and headed for the living room. "Hey, Bobby—"

As the hunter looked up, eyebrows lifted, he shivered and breathed a patch of fogged air. Bobby shot out from his seat and grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace while Buffy hustled back into the kitchen for the salt.

"Hello, Buffy."

The Slayer spun on her heel, fists up. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Jenny Calendar was standing before her.


Subsequent phone calls to both Bobby and their sister went unanswered. Dean put his foot down on the Impala's gas pedal and drove maniacally back to the house.

They slid to a pebble flying, dirt grinding halt near the front door. Sam ran towards the salvage to search while Dean headed inside. The latter felt lucky to find his sister, alive, sitting head down in the kitchen within a circle of salt. Her knees were drawn up and her arms, littered with cuts and scrapes, were folded on top. One hand clutched a cast iron skillet.

Dean knelt down in front of her. "Buffy?"

With a scream, Buffy swung her kitchen implement turned weapon with two hands, barely missing her brother's head. He fell back onto his rear and held his palms out. "Whoa whoa whoa, Rapunzel!" he shouted. "It's me!"

"Dean?" she wondered in a small voice.

"Yeah, Dean. Your 'recently returned from the dead and not wanting to go back anytime soon' big brother."

With a cry, Buffy threw herself into Dean's arms. She wept piteously while he stroked her back. "Easy, easy," Dean said. "It's okay."

"I saw Miss Calendar," she sobbed. "She said it was my fault she died! It is, it is, if I had just killed Angel sooner…"

"Wait, what?" Dean gently extracted himself out of his sister's arms. "You killed him?"

Buffy sniffed and wiped away her tears. "I might as well have. I… I had to send him into Acathla. He-He-He opened it, but then something happened." She reached out and wrapped her hands around her brother's arms. As she spoke her grip tightened, and with her Slayer's strength her hold swiftly became painful. "He was Angel! Not Angelus! He knew me! His soul was clean and I still pushed him in. He went to Hell all because of me, because I couldn't do what was right, because I just had to be a stupid, stupid girl…"

As Buffy berated herself Dean sorrowfully realized that this was probably the first time she had spoken about what had happened with Angel. Again he wondered why Sam hadn't gotten this story from her before, but now was not the time to treat his little brother to a beatdown about failing to care for their sister.

By the time her litany had ended and she let Dean go bruises had blossomed on his upper arms. Drained by the emotional outburst, Buffy sat back on her heels and sighed. "Sorry," she finally said.

"It's okay, Buff'," Dean replied, confused as to why the old nickname made her flinch. "You gonna be all right?"

Buffy didn't answer. Instead, her eyes slid past him as she lifted a hand to point. Dean swiveled on his knees and beheld a spirit: a blonde woman with shoulder length hair that seemed naggingly familiar.

"Meg," Buffy identified.

"Bingo. It's okay," the ghost said with a wry smile. "I'm not a demon. This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a slut."

"You're the girl the demon possessed," Dean clarified.

"Meg Masters," she greeted pleasantly, "Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not, you know, choking on my own blood. It's okay. Seriously, I'm just a college girl. Sorry. Was. I was walking home one night—"

The spirit's essence dissipated as Buffy's skillet flew through it and imbedded into the wall. Dean turned astonished eyes towards his sister.

Buffy shrugged. "She was all: blah blah blah blah blah. I got bored."


Out in the yard, Sam discovered Bobby under attack from the spirits of a pair of twin girls. After extricating him from the mess, Sam rushed the both of them inside. Bobby then led all of them downstairs to what turned out to be a magnificent underground addition to the house.

After Bobby unbarred the heavy door, the siblings walked in and gaped about. The room was circular, with high walls and ceilings, furnished with a bed, a desk, and a few random chairs. On the floor was an enormous devil's trap in gray paint. The shadow of the same mandala, wrought of glass and iron on the ceiling, lay at a crooked angle across its twin. Books of lore were generously stacked both on the desk and in a small bookshelf off in one corner. To Buffy's delight, a full arsenal was stocked on one side. To Dean's delight, a lascivious poster of Bo Derek decorated another.

"Solid iron," Bobby described. "Completely coated in salt. One hundred percent ghost-proof."

"You built a panic room?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I had a weekend off."

"Bobby," Dean remarked, "you're awesome."

Now safe, the group shared details about their attacks. Sam noted that he'd seen a mark on Henriksen's hand. Bobby confirmed he'd seen the same on the twins, Dean had seen one on Meg and Buffy on Miss Calendar. Sam then quickly sketched out the figure: a rough, bisected circle with curves and circles at each line's end. With that, Bobby got to researching.

They stayed in the room until evening. Sam helped Bobby for a while, but after getting frustrated at his lack of success he began aiding his brother in prepping salt rounds. The pair had a short, vigorous discussion regarding the existence and apathy of God that ended when Buffy threatened to clock their heads together if they didn't shut up. She spent her time cataloguing the weaponry, testing a few of the swords and daggers, then sat down on the bed with some scissors and spare scraps of paper. Eventually she had a paper doll sized evening gown.

"What's that for?" Dean asked.

In response, Buffy stood up and grabbed the tape dispenser from Bobby's desk. She then proceeded to give the half-naked Bo Derek a new outfit. "There!"

"Aw, c'mon!"

"Found it," Bobby finally announced.

"What?" Sam wondered.

"The symbol you saw. The brand on the ghosts?"

"Yeah?"

"Mark of the Witness."

Buffy approached the elder hunter and peered over his shoulder at the book he was reading. "That sounds apocalypticky."

"Sure does," Bobby agreed. "These people, none of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts, they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They were like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Someone rose them. On purpose."

"Who?" asked Sam.

"Do I look like I know? But whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. It's called 'The Rising of the Witnesses.' It figures into an ancient prophecy."

"Let me guess," said Buffy. "An apocalypse."

"Nope," Bobby refuted. "Not 'an' apocalypse. The Apocalypse."

The siblings were stunned into silence. "Apocalypse?" Dean finally asked. "The Apocalypse, Apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, five-dollar-a-gallon-gas Apocalypse?"

"That's the one. The Rising of the Witnesses is a sort of mile-marker."

Sam sighed. "Okay," he said pragmatically. "So what do we do now?"

"Road trip," his brother suggested. "Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience. Bunny Ranch."

"Disneyworld," added Buffy.

"Tijuana."

"Oh, oh. Mall of America."

"Amsterdam. Red Light District."

"Hawaii. God, I could use a good tan."

Exasperated, Bobby interrupted them with, "Will you two idjits shut up for a second? How about we survive our friends out there first?"

Dean threw up his hands and let them drop. "Any plans on staying in here 'til Judgement Day?"

Bobby had found a spell, one whose ingredients and required locale (an open fire) were unfortunately upstairs, far outside their safety room. Bobby and the brothers quickly loaded shotguns and pocketed extra rounds while their sister selected an iron sword.

Their first ghost was sitting on the stairs: Ronald Reznick, the ill-fated security guard that had been caught in the crossfire while Sam and Dean had been trying to thwart a shapeshifter in Milwaukee. Ronald berated the brothers over his death, freezing the two of them in their guilt, until being violently interrupted by Bobby and his gun.

"If you're gonna shoot, shoot," chastised the elder hunter. "Don't talk."

Once inside the living room, Bobby jerked open a desk drawer and produced a copper bowl. He slammed it down at the same time that Dean lit the fireplace. "Upstairs, linen closet," he instructed Sam. "Red hex box. It'll be heavy."

"Got it," the younger brother replied and hurried off.

Ragged twin girls appeared. "Bobby," one said ominously. Dean promptly shot one, Buffy swung her sword through the other.

"Kitchen," Bobby told Dean as Buffy began to shake out a salt circle around the elder hunter. "Cutlery drawer. It's got a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood."

"Opium?" Dean wondered disbelievingly.

"Go!"

"What do I do?" Buffy asked as she closed the barrier.

"Make sure I don't die," Bobby uttered before starting to scribe runes on the desktop with chalk.

The twins appeared again and Buffy swung her blade. A gunshot echoed down from upstairs followed by Sam's call that he was fine. When the kitchen door slammed shut, Dean shouted, "I'm all right! Just keep at it!"

"Keep at it," Jenny Calendar hissed at Buffy. "Is that how you encouraged your lover, the vampire?"

"Shut. UP!" the Slayer yelled as she swung her sword through her former teacher.

Another gunshot rang out, this time from the kitchen. Buffy's brothers came staggering in with Dean clutching his chest. "You okay?" his sister asked.

"No," he grumbled as he dumped his share of the spell ingredients onto the desk. Sam quickly followed suit.

Bobby sorted through the items, chose the ones he needed, and tossed them into his bowl. Unfortunately, as soon as he began chanting the windows blew open. An unnatural wind swept through the room and disturbed Buffy's carefully placed salt circle.

The ghosts eagerly took advantage of the now shieldless humans. Without regard for who they blamed for their demises, the spirits attacked. Buffy hacked through Ronald as Dean shot Miss Calendar. Sam blew the twins away as Meg shoved the rollup desk at him. Henriksen lunged at Buffy as the children perched in front of Sam and stared menacingly.

A new ghost appeared directly in front of Buffy; Angel of all people. His face was twisted into its vampiric snarl and his clothing, like all the others, was a ragged version of those he normally wore: a shredded coat, torn shirt, and frayed pants, all in black. Buffy's eyes filled with tears and she hesitated, her sword raised above one shoulder in preparation.

But Angel's spirit wasn't interested in her. Instead, it grabbed an implement from the hearth and swung it through Meg. She dissipated moments before she could plunge her hand into Bobby's back.

The elder hunter tossed the bowl into the flames. For a moment the fire burned a bright blue before. Then it and all the ghosts vanished.

Except for Angel.

The four humans stared, stunned, at the vampire, whose face crunched and shifted back to normal. He blinked once at them. Twice. And collapsed into a heap. Buffy immediately rushed forward to check on him.

The three men glanced at one another. Then Dean voiced what they were all thinking.

"What the fuck?"


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester" (SPN 4.02).