(6/11/2017) In response to the guest reviewer (and some past comments), the reason I'm trying to transform Buffy lore into Supernatural lore is to try something new. My other crossover has the two existing side by side with explanations as to why and how and I felt like doing the same here would be kind of plagiarizing myself. At the very least, it gives a new flavor to the Buffy monsters that I so far haven't found in other fanfics.

Thank you philly cheese dude, RHatch89, jkmp28, IoSolUno, thedarkpokemaster, Sage of Wind Dragons, missmeow1968, Princesskarlita411, and DullReign82 for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get cherry tomatoes!


Buffy and her mother dove head first into trying to get the girl back on a normal schedule by contacting the high school's administration in order to get her re-admitted. Unfortunately, the first person they caught up to was Snyder who, characteristically, was adamant that any measures necessary would be taken to prevent the Summers delinquent from blighting his halls. The abrupt departure of former substitute teacher Mr. Winchester, said delinquent's brother, in the midst of finals was also cited.

Defensive over his sister's mistreatment, Sam immediately began to research the legality of Snyder's stance. He was forced to do so at the local coffee shop (Angel having never considered wifi a home essential) and was taken aback when confronted by Buffy's friends.

Without preamble, Willow slid out the chair across from Sam and sat down. "Where have you been?" she cried.

"Uh," the hunter managed.

Xander remained standing, his arms folded. "Yes, how articulate. I'm sure you're the intelligent brother."

"Hey!"

"We were so worried!" continued Willow. "I-I-I mean, not even a note to us or-or a call. Just one little text!"

Sam shut his laptop. "We were both having a difficult time. I'm sorry."

"So you go and take off without a word," Xander scoffed. "Real smart. No wonder you went to Stanford."

"We couldn't—"

"I'm not listening to this!" Willow stated. She lurched to her feet and stalked off, Xander close behind.

Bewildered, Sam said to no one, "But you two started talking to me." He opened his laptop, typed three words, and slammed it shut again when he realized someone else was sitting in Willow's abandoned seat. Irritated, the hunter snapped, "What?"

"What are you doing here, Sam?" asked the dark haired woman.

"Helping my sister. Why else would I be here?"

"We need to keep training. You're not going to be ready at this pace."

"Then find a demon. We're on the Hellmouth; there's got to be one or two."

"That's not the point! You're getting distracted."

"Ruby," Sam sighed, "with Dean back my family has to be my first priority. It's important to me to be there for them."

The demon frowned, her disappointment evident. Despite her attitude, Sam found himself distracted by her new vessel; its full lips, two big brown eyes, and, most of all, the enticing smell wafting out from every pore.

His obsessive stare did not go unnoticed. "Do you need it?"

Sam shook his head both to clear it and in denial. "I'm fine for now."

"Great," said Ruby, her flat tone belying the positive sentiment. "Well if you're so bent on staying here then I might as well let you know: some pissed off ancient vampire is heading this way."

"WHAT?" Sam cried indignantly. "And you were trying to get me to leave? Are you insane?"

"Bigger picture here, Sammy. One vampire over Lilith? Your priorities should be the other way around."

"My sister is a Vampire Slayer and you weren't going to tell me something like the Master is coming to town? He nearly killed her! He actually did kill her!"

"That was years ago. She's more powerful now, and so are you."

Sam wiped a hand down his face, exasperated. Ruby's point that defeating Lilith, which could prevent the rising of Lucifer (and thus the Apocalypse), superseded the safety of a single teenaged girl was logically valid, but he wasn't ready to let his little sister go for the greater good. Perhaps eventually. After all, one life over seven and a half billion? Sooner or later hanging onto sentiment could cost them the entire world.

Fortunately, things weren't that dire. Yet.

"Whatever," Sam finally said. "What's this thing's name?"

"He's called Kakistos."


Buffy called Dean to invite her brothers for dinner at her home that night, a prospect he found daunting. He suspected that whatever Joyce served would either be either poisoned or purposely disgusting and that he and Sam would be forced to choke it down for politeness sake. His sister begged, unwilling to make small talk with her mother and her friends, and her big brother resignedly capitulated. Desperate, the hunter tried to get Angel to join them and got a withering look in response.

After fortifying themselves with a few beers, Sam and Dean drove to Revello Drive. Their first clue that something was amiss was the abnormal crowd of teenagers striding around, one of which had the temerity to shout drunkenly, "Cool car, dude!"

Buffy's dumbfounded brothers double parked then shoved their way into her home. They found their sister walking about in a daze. Sam shouted her name over the band and she meandered in their direction. "What's going on?" he asked loudly.

"I'm not sure," she answered.

Dean grabbed his sister's upper arm and pulled her outside to the porch. "The hell is all this?"

Flustered, Buffy explained, "I-I-I just wanted to get back together with my friends and family and-and all these people showed up! And they don't even know why they're here. They think this is some party for a rehab returnee."

"You want us to clear the place?"

Buffy eyed her eldest brother askance. She was pretty sure Dean's method of sweeping the crowd from her home involved a variety of firearms. "No, it's okay. You guys go enjoy yourselves."

The brothers worriedly watched their sister thread her way back through the party. "I need another drink," Dean announced and, heedless of whether or not Sam followed, managed to push his way to the kitchen. It was empty save for Joyce and a portly middle-aged woman who were enjoying glasses of Schnapps.

He quickly turned on his heel and froze when the stranger said, "You're one of Buffy's brothers, right?"

"Yeah. I'm Dean."

"Pat," she said. The amount of sugary sweet congeniality the woman put into her name and her smile made Dean instantly recoil. "I'm part of Joyce's book club. Say, were you the one who took off with Buffy several months ago?"

"No." Dean tried surreptitiously edging his way to the exit.

"You know, I heard that one of her brothers had died! Such a tragedy! Are you sure you're not the one that took her? I thought Buffy had only two brothers."

Thankfully, Dean's phone began to buzz. He pulled it out of his back pocket. "Oh, look. I need to take this. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye!" Pat said cheerfully as the hunter scurried out of the back door.

Relieved that the woman didn't follow, Dean answered his call. "What's up, Jeeves?"

"Oh. Oh dear Lord. Buffy said you were alive, but I… well, in any case, we have a situation. There's—"

"Hang on," Dean interrupted. The band had ground to a halt and he could faintly hear shouting coming from the living room. "I'll call you right back."

"No, wait—" came Giles attempt to forestall him. Dean ended the call and hurried inside. He found the partygoers frozen, fascinated by the tableau in the living room where Buffy and Sam were being verbally attacked by her mother and all of her friends.

"Did you even try talking to anybody?" Xander was demanding.

"Talk to anybody about what?" Sam snapped back. "None of you would have understood a damn thing!"

"Well maybe we would have understood it if—holy moley you are alive," Xander gasped as he saw Dean enter the room.

"What the hell is going on?" the hunter demanded.

"What's going on is that Buffy finally needs to answer for running off like an idiot!"

"Excuse me?" The boy was nearly his height, but Dean used every millimeter to loom threateningly. "Do you even know what she went through?"

"No! And that's the point!"

"Bullshit! You're all just pissed because you were worried and it made you feel bad. Well, boohoo, dickless! Maybe there was a fucking reason that she thought you wouldn't understand how messed up everything got that night."

"Oh?" A tiny little voice in Xander's head tried to remind him that Dean had a) been training since childhood to take things down that were much, much fiercer than a slightly built teenaged boy, and b) tended to walk around heavily armed. He, of course, ignored it. "Maybe if she didn't have such a lowlife for a brother she might have thought about someone other than herself!"

"That's it," Dean snarled as he grabbed Xander's shirtfront.

Sam and Buffy lurched forward to pull their brother away before he could do any damage as the surrounding partygoers raised an alarmed clamor. As Dean was yanked off of Xander, Oz managed to shout, "Okay, maybe we should all calm down…"

"Let them go, Oz!" Willow said in the ensuing quiet. "Talking about it isn't helping; we might as well try some violence!"

The possibility of an all-out brawl was arrested by the arrival, through the window, of what appeared to be a rotted corpse. It would have been nothing new on the siblings' end, stench included, if it weren't for the body's subsequent display of self-automation.

"I was being sarcastic!" Willow cried as Sam pulled her out of the room.

Dean drew his favorite ivory-handled pistol and fired two shots into the thing's head. Unfortunately, contrary to trope, the zombie kept moving. The hunter blasted out a profanity both at his failure and at the wave of corpses that began shambling in through the front door.

Various guests were either fleeing or grabbing likely makeshift weapons (fireplace implements, liquor bottles, a candlestick) and whacking or stabbing ineffectually at the creatures. One enterprising young man grabbed the lead singer's Gibson and caused its owner to cry, "Not my guitar! Use the bass!"

Buffy and a group of teenagers had bottlenecked the incoming corpses at the front door as Sam and Joyce smacked any that got in range. With a heave, the Slayer managed to shove the monsters away long enough to close the entrance. As she rallied partygoers to barricade the broken windows, Dean edged over to his brother. "Dude," he said, delighted. "Zombies!"

"Seriously?"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you're not totally stoked to find out they're real. Not like that lame-ass reanimated chick in Illinois. Total freaking Night of the Living Dead!"

"Not really since everyone in that movie dies!"

Deflated, Dean stuffed his handgun into the back of his jeans and muttered, "Killjoy."

The lull in the pandemonium was brief; moments later, the makeshift wall collapsed and the undead horde began to once again swarm in. Various members of the living fled or hid as best they could with some ending up fortifying themselves in the upstairs rooms. On the stairs they found an unconscious Pat. Sam and Dean dragged the woman out of the way of the mayhem.

Buffy, her family, and Xander and Willow all ended up in Joyce's bedroom. The brothers carefully placed their burden on the ground then joined Xander in barricading, and then holding, the door. Willow and Joyce checked on Pat.

"She okay?" Sam asked.

The red-headed teenager shook her head. "I think she's…"

Joyce gasped in horror. "Oh my God."

What must have been an extraordinarily large zombie slammed into the door and caused its defenders to be pushed back. Xander fell hard enough to slam into the wall. One of Joyce's artisanal masks fell from its hook onto the ground.

As they once again pushed back against the creature, Dean managed to fire into the wood and simultaneously wiggle his buzzing phone out of his pocket. A highly agitated Giles was on the other end. "It's a mask!" the Watcher cried without preamble. "A voodoo controlling device! It was hanging on Joyce's wall. Don't let anyone put it on or they'll become the manifestation of a Petro loa!"

"A what now?"

"A-A-A voodoo spirit, and an angry one!"

Dean ended the call and looked around. He spotted the mask lying on the floor at the same time that Joyce gasped, "Oh God! Pat! We thought you were—"

Buffy's mother was shoved violently aside by the reanimated corpse. Before Dean could give warning, Pat lurched for the mask and mashed it onto her face. Her flesh molded with the wood and a red glow lit up behind the zombie's eyes.

Distracted by the gruesome transformation, the room's defenders went lax. Their besieger managed to topple inside, but upon seeing the masked Pat the rotted corpse knelt down and cowered.

Joyce looked questioningly around. Dean summed up the situation by saying, "When the monsters get scared we're generally fucked."

In a garbled, unnaturally hoarse voice, the loagroaned, "I live. You die."

Buffy took umbrage at the thing's presumption. She grabbed the body's shoulder and swiveled Pat around to face her. The red in the mask's eyes shone brighter as it gazed at the girl. Buffy found herself unwillingly frozen, one fist prepped for flight.

Satisfied that Buffy had been taken care of, the loa turned its attention to the next victim in sight: Willow. As soon as the eyes left her face, Buffy's limbs began to respond again. She spotted the inherent danger to her friend and did the first thing that came to mind.

Her brothers and mother all shouted her name with varying degrees of alarm when Buffy tackled Pat and sent the two of them crashing through the second floor window. They landed with a sickening thump on the backyard lawn. Upon looking outside they found Buffy lying on top of the considerably larger woman. She waved a hand upwards to signal that she was fine.

The absence of the loa, however, meant that its undead minion no longer had something to fear. It lurched to its feet and immediately reached out for Joyce. She backed up, her face a mix of fear and determination, and suddenly knelt to take something out from under her bed. A moment later Buffy's mother was wailing on the zombie's head with a baseball hat.

Sam and Dean exchanged astonished glances. They snapped out of their stupefaction when the creature grabbed Joyce's weapon and snapped it in two. As it lunged for the woman, Dean whipped his pistol out and fired into its back while Sam put himself directly into the monster's path. It immediately changed targets and wrapped its putrid digits around Sam's neck.

"Come on!" Dean urged Joyce, gesturing for her to get out of the way. Instead of heeding his advice she picked up one of the shattered halves of her bat and stabbed it into the zombie's side. It stumbled sideways and released Sam.

Dean withdrew his Bowie knife from inside his jacket and, with Joyce yanking on one arm and Sam on the other, brought it down to try and hack the thing's head off. In the next moment, however, the corpse had vanished and all three of them fell over in different directions.

Buffy's voice floated in from the window. "Made you look."

"Are you okay?" Joyce asked Sam worriedly.

He rubbed his neck and cleared his threat. "Yeah, fine."

The three of them hurried downstairs where they found all of Buffy's friends (including Xander and Willow, who had stolen away from the master bedroom to try and find their respective significant others) and her Watcher congregating in the foyer. When the Slayer emerged from the kitchen, Joyce repeated her query and added a big hug for good measure.

"So is this a typical day at the office?" asked Buffy's mother.

"This?" her daughter scoffed. "This was nothing."

Buffy and her friends began exchanging blandishments and laughter, their previous disagreements apparently shunted aside. As the teenagers reestablished their camaraderie, Sam inched towards Joyce. "Hey, do you want us to stay and help clean?"

"No," she sighed as she gazed about her demolished living room. "I think I'll wait until morning anyways."

Sam waited a few seconds for the usual invitation to stay over. When it became obvious it wasn't forthcoming, he said, "Okay. Dean, we better get going."

"Dude," said the eldest brother with an exaggerated sniff, "you smell like dead people."

"Thanks." As they passed Giles, Sam asked the pensive looking man, "You okay?"

"Fine," the librarian answered.

"What's with the face?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I remembered I have a meeting with Principal Snyder tomorrow morning."


Joyce's mood towards Buffy's brothers thawed considerably when they showed up unannounced the next day, tools and construction supplies in hand. While Dean worked on clearing the window panes, Sam helped Joyce tidy what they could inside. Broken furniture was lugged out to the curb and various party leavings were swept up and thrown out. The brothers then set out to repair both the glass windows and a few doors that had been smashed beyond restoration.

At one point Joyce even brought out ice cold beers for the two hard-working, and now shirtless, men. She quipped that her female neighbors (single and married) had had their faces pressed to their windows for the past several hours.

It was close to dinnertime by the time they were done and, to the brothers' relief, Joyce invited them to dinner and permitted them the use of the showers. Buffy had been hanging out with Willow in the afternoon, and upon arriving home informed everyone that things between her and her best friend were back to normal. The girl held back the knowledge that Willow had begun seriously dabbling in magic; she wasn't quite sure how deep Sam and Dean's prejudices lay regarding witchcraft.

The family had a regular pork chop and mashed potato dinner marred only by the looks that Joyce occasionally threw in Buffy's brothers' direction. Over pie, the woman finally revealed the reason behind her inscrutable glances.

"All right," Joyce said in a tone that had all three siblings on edge. "I'll get right to it. I spent a lot of the summer talking with Mr. Giles about Buffy's Slayer thing. I think I understand what it's about. But you two…" She sighed. "I need to know about hunting. And I need to know about John."

Sam and Buffy put down their forks while Dean scraped the last bit of crust from his plate. The three looked at one another before the eldest of them said, "It ain't pretty."

"Finding out my daughter is supposed to kill vampires and monsters isn't exactly pretty."

"I mean, I'm talkin' blood and death and literal Hell kind of not-pretty."

"Literal—" Joyce shook her head. "I don't care. I know my daughter's life isn't going to be the way I always imagined it to be, the way anymother hopes their daughter's life will be. But you are her brothers, and if you being near her brings even more danger to her life then I need to know."

"Mom," Buffy said, both saddened and relieved over her mother's conclusions.

"Hush." Joyce took the girl's hand and held it tight. "No matter what, I will always love you." She looked at the boys. "And I will always love you two as well. But enough secrets," Joyce concluded definitively.

Sam blinked tears back at the compassion in her voice. He locked eyes with Dean. They couldn't tell her everything. Hell, they didn't even know everything themselves. The two would have to play it by ear on what should or shouldn't be revealed, but there was one caveat Sam was certain the both of them could agree upon. "Okay, Joyce," he finally said. "But on one condition. We need to teach you a few things: how to draw devil's traps, how to recognize some of the monsters, and—"

"—How to fire a gun," Dean stated.

Each requisite had Joyce's eyebrows crawling higher and higher. She blinked at her daughter. "It's for the best," Buffy told her.

Joyce shook her head and shrugged. "All right."

Dean picked up another slice of pie as Sam began to unfold their history. "It began with our mom…"


Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Dead Man's Party" (BtVS 3.02).

Author's note : The "lame ass reanimated chick" is from the episode "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things" (SPN 2.04). This chapter occurs prior to Samhain and, just personally, I never considered Croats actual zombies. I really wanted to make a Walking Dead reference but that didn't come out until 2010.

Petro loa are the angrier, more violent versions of the usual loa (aka Haitian voodoo spirits). I might be using them completely wrong but I'm assuming it's in the ballpark at least.