Chapter 11

After Dawn's release, and Buffy's capture, the Scoobys, Winchesters, Bobby, Cas, Jo and Ellen had all joined together at the School.

Dawn hadn't stopped moving since entering the War Room, pacing up and down the table, getting angrier with each step, "how could she do this? Again?" she scrubbed her face of an angry tear that released against her will.

Spike moved over to her, halting her movement, "Big Sis did what was right, Lil Bit. They can't take her without her permission, they could take you."

Dawn knew he was right, but worry and fear for her sister overwhelmed her, causing her distress to turn to anger, "it's not fair, she can't die, not again!" she yelled, more tears running down her face.

"She won't Niblet, we won't let her," he said, enveloping her in a hug, tucking her head under his chin.

Over Dawn's head, he caught eyes with Dean, and nodded at the look in Dean's eyes. They'll never be friends, never like each other, but in this moment their shared goals brought them together. They'll both protect Dawn, and do what was necessary to bring Buffy back.

Buffy found herself in a familiar place, a place she had called home for seven years. The crater that was once Sunnydale.

She was only alone for ten minutes before Lucifer joined her. "Depressing, isn't it? You spend the greater part of your life protecting this place, and now it's just a hole in the ground."

Buffy laughed, her heart feeling lighter knowing Dawn was safe, "please, Sunnydale was a hole long before it even became a hole," she scoffed in response. If his plan was to make her feel useless for not being able to protect Sunnydale from being destroyed, he would need another method. Sunnydale had been a trap for Buffy the moment she moved there. She couldn't leave, because the world would end, but staying meant her life, and the lives of people she cared about, were constantly in danger.

Not much change there, she scoffed to herself.

Her bitter relationship with the town that she called home didn't stop her from being sad when looking upon it. Not because of the town itself, but because of the people she couldn't save. The people that were buried there but were now part of the rubble. Her mum, Tara, Anya, Jenny Calender, Kendra, not to mention all the potentials and innocents who lost their lives to the battle of good and evil.

She shook herself out of the gloom, and turned to Lucifer who was watching her.

"Why did you let Dawn go?" she asked, her tone practically demanding an answer from the entity in front of her.

Lucifer smiled, "I thought that's what you wanted?"

"Of course it was," Buffy spat out, angrily, "but you could have taken her without asking, I know you could, so why take me? I won't agree to be your vessel."

"Oh I think you will, or Sam will. Either way, I'll get my vessel," Lucifer smiled at her, mockingly, "you humans, so strange. Half of your people are starving and dying, the other half refusing to acknowledge the death and despair, blinding yourselves with phones, reality television, and whatever celebrity gossip the media choses to shove down your throat," he had become angry during his small rant, facing the crater, as if the destruction down there was the result of humanities carelessness, instead of the evil that lead to Sunnydale's destruction. He turned to Buffy with a softer, but still sarcastic smile, "But you, Buf-"

Buffy put up a hand to stop him, "look, if you're going to do the whole long winded 'you did your best, but I'll eventually win' speech, I'm gonna have to stop you there. I've heard it before, many times. In fact, I could flip this around and give the speech to you instead, if you like?"

If Lucifer was angry at being interrupted, he gave no hint. Instead he chuckled, while shaking his head, "see that's what I like about you! You've got spunk!" His laughter died off, as he became serious again, "but joking about the situation won't change it, one way or another, you will help me in obtaining a true vessel. Either you will give yourself to protect your friends and family, or Sam will give himself to protect you."

Buffy had no witty comeback this time, because he was right. It's what they did. The Winchesters, and the Scoobys. The good guys. They put their lives on the line so that others may live, and that was especially true for the people they cared about. Sam would give himself up to save her, not only because of their friendship, but because he would want to save Dean the pain of losing her. Buffy's stomach soured at the thought. She knew Lucifer would take her if necessary, but he was reluctant, he showed that in Dean's trip into the future. But what he really wanted was Sam. Buffy didn't know why, but she knew that if it had to be one of them, it couldn't be Sam. She couldn't let Lucifer have Sam, no matter what.

She scoffed, "I think you overestimate Sam if you think he'd give his life up for some girl his brother was dating."

Lucifer smiled mockingly again, "now, now, Buffy, let's not start lying to each other. We both know that's exactly what Sam will do," his smile fell again, being replaced with regret, "but we may need to help him along, and unfortunately for you, it might become a bit painful."

She laughed, "you're going to torture me? Bring it on, I think you'll find I'm tougher stuff than you're used to.

Her laughter died off at the sad, condescending smile on Lucifer's face.

The mood in the School had been dark since Buffy had switched herself for Dawn. Every person in the school was made to drop whatever task or job they had, and put their time into research, and finding Buffy. The Scoobies and hunters worked day and night trying to find a solution. The lack of answers weighed on all of them, turning their moods bitter and dark.

Dawn spent half her time raging at Buffy for switching, and the other half inconsolable at the potential loss of her sister.

Dean wasn't much better. He was either drunk or on the way to drunk. Every day he did research, looking for signs of her or Lucifer. But, he was never far from the bottle. It was the third day since Buffy had left, and he was once again in the War Room, researching and drinking, about to pour himself another drink, when the bottle was taken from his hand. Expecting Sam, he asked for his bottle back.

"Don't think so, mate. Reckon you've had enough," an English accent replied behind him.

Dean whipped out of his chair to find Spike kicking back in an arm chair behind him, bottle on the ground beside him.

"What do you want?" Dean spoke through gritted teeth. Their unspoken truce allowed them to work in the same space without butting heads, but, until now, it hadn't included direct contact.

Dean felt childish with his rage and hate towards the creature in front of him, but he couldn't help himself. In the past couple of years he had been able to acknowledge the grey areas that come with hunting evil creatures. Sometimes, those creatures weren't evil, but that doesn't mean he wanted a reformed monster touching his girl. Even more childishly, he resented the man in front of him for being the last person to be with Buffy. He hated himself for caring about sex when the woman he loved was missing, but he couldn't help it. Dean burned with jealousy and resentment that the last hands to caress and love her belonged to the man in front of him. He fucked up when he pushed her away, and now the man who kept her safe and looked after when he didn't was in front of him, taking another thing away from him. It didn't matter that it was only a drink, the resentment burned all the same.

"To keep you from killing yourself before we find our girl," Spike replied, fiddling with the bottle where it rested on the ground.

His term for Buffy made Dean clench his jaw in anger, "she is not 'our girl', she's my girl, and you'd do good to remember that. Now give me my drink, and get the fuck out."

Spike smirked at him before replying, "now mate, she'll always be my girl, whether you like it or not. She chose you, and I love 'er enough to respect that, but we've been through too much, her and I," he stood up from his chair, taking the bottle of whisky with him, and poured Dean a drink. He fished around in his own leather jacket, pulling out another glass and filling it. Taking the glass and the bottle, he settled back into his chair, "'M not going to give you your bottle back, so you may as well sit and enjoy wha' you got."

Dean chaffed at being told what to do, but his curiousity got the better of him, so he pulled the chair out, facing it towards Spike and taking a seat. He took a deep drink, "what do you want?" he croaked out.

Spike leaned forward, smirk gone from his face, replaced with the most serious face that Dean had seen him give, "you need to stop with this self-destructive, self-pitying crap."

Dean was shocked, "what are you talking about?"

"The drinking, the lack of sleep, staying up all night with only books for company. Its 'nough to send any man mad."

Scoffing, Dean took another drink, "you don't know much about the hunter lifestyle, do you?"

"More than you know, mate," the sudden yellow tilt to his eyes reminded Dean of Spike's real nature, not that he ever really forgot. "I know the need to drink your troubles away, more than anyone here, but that ain't gunna help her. You think you'll be able to fight your way to her in this condition? It's only been 3 days and you look like you've been chewed up and spat out. And what about the Lil Bit? She's been breaking at the seams, and you've been too wrapped in yourself to do a damn thing."

"You were with her, I didn't think she'd need me," Dean replied pathetically. Spike was right. Not once since Buffy left has he gone to talk to Dawn. She was Buffy's little sister, and was Sam's girl for a while there. He should have been there for her.

"Bloody hell mate, if that's the best you're gunna give me, don't even bother." He became intense again, looking in Dean's eyes, drawing him in, "you listen, and you listen good, Buffy barely survived you dying last time, how you think she's gunna be if you die tryin' to rescue her, 'cause you spent the last week drunk off your arse? Not good, I'd wager." Spike leaned back into his chair, taking a drink and once again adoring his smirk, "I'll tell you this much though, you die and come back again, I'm not backing down so easy. Far as 'm concerned, at that point, you've used up your chances, mate."

Dean grunted in acknowledgement, stewing in his words. He hated that he was right. He hated that he had been self-absorbed in his own self-pity, he was blind to his own behaviour. He should be straight, training and researching with a clear head, being there for Dawn. That's what Buffy would want, and what she needs. Eventually he looked back up to Spike, nodded, and rasped, "alright. I'm going to bed." He walked away, doing a small turn and grunting out, "thanks."

He turned back to walk out, as Spike replied so quietly that he thought maybe he wasn't meant to hear it, "wasn't for you, mate."

Dean knew he would never be fully comfortable with Spike being such a big part of Buffy's life, but even he could admit to himself that he was glad Spike had Buffy's back, especially when Dean didn't.

The next morning Dean felt fresher and more optimistic than he had since Buffy left. He went to the War Room early, researching in the quiet. Not long afterwards the rest of the "God Squad", a name Xander joking gave their group the day before, started filtering in.

Xander himself came in last, a frown between his brows making his eyepatch seem sinister, "I just got a call from Jane, one of the girls on the road. Her and Zoe found a job. A bunch of love birds eating each other."

"Ugh, yuck," Willow replied, making Dean smile. She might be a bad ass witch, but when it came to the gore of their business, she might as well be a civilian.

"Yeah, that's not what's got me worried, which kinda says a lot about this whole situation," he rambled, "she said they checked the bodies, normal routine, ya know, but they found some carvings on the victims hearts. She said they might be something we're interested in" He got his phone out, and showed the group the pictures. Even Willow's initial grossness couldn't keep her curiousity at bay. Everyone in the room looked at the picture, with only Willow, Giles and Sam finding it to be familiar.

"It looks angelic, right?" Willow noted to the others, which made them nod in reply.

"Maybe we should call Cas," Sam suggested, looking over to Dean. Castiel had left not long after dropping them off at the school, continuing his search for God.

Dean rolled his eyes, knowing Cas probably wouldn't answer. Or he would answer, and lecture Dean on interrupting his mission.

Dean got his phone out, "Cas, it's Dean, I'm at the school."

"I'm here now," Dean turned quickly to find Cas behind him, still on the phone.

"I can see that," Dean replied, also still on the phone.

"I'm hanging up now," Cas said, with giggles from Willow and Dawn. "Have you found the Slayer?" Cas asked abruptly. His affection and worry for Buffy had taken the hunters by surprise. The usual stoic Angel had shown admiration and awe for the retired Slayer, and had been adamant that they call him if they had news of her.

Dean sighed, "no, Cas, we need help with something else."

"Dean, I am busy. Please stop calling me whenever you need information. Call me when you have news on the Slayer, nothing else."

"It's about Angels!" Dean yelled, hoping to get Cas' attention before he disappeared. His tactic appeared to have worked because Cas stayed where he was. Xander handed him the phone with the photos, and pointed at the carvings.

"It's a mark of union. This man and woman were intended to mate."

"Alright, well who put them there?" Dean asked.

"You call him Cupid. However, the myth mistaken for Cupid is actually a lower order of Angel. Technically a cherub, third-class."

"What's Cupid doing killing people?" Xander asked.

"It seems this particular cherub has gone rouge," Cas replied, "Dean, Sam and I will handle it. It shouldn't take long."

"Woah, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here until we get word on Buffy," Dean replied, taking a seat to make his point.

Cas sighed before reaching over and touching both Winchester's shoulders before transporting them away.

Dean committed to the job, knowing Cas wouldn't let him leave until it was done. It didn't take them long to track down the Cupid responsible for the love matches. After some questioning, and some awkward hugging, the cherub protested its innocence, leading the boys to start looking elsewhere.

Sam went to the morgue the next day, having been called by the intoxicated doctor with another unusual death.

"Death by twinkie. What a way to go," Dean said into the phone.

"Yeah uh so, the guy wasn't marked by cupid, but the death is definitely suspicious."

The boys continued their conversation until Sam noticed a bald man walking across the street, holding a briefcase. The sound of a heartbeat pounded through Sam's skull, making his head ache and hands shake. Following the man down an alley, Sam grabbed him from behind and pushed him against the wall, Ruby's knife against his throat.

"I know what you are, damn it," Sam spat out, cutting the demons cheek, making the demon yell in pain. "I could smell you."

"Winchester," the demon spat out, knocking the knife away from his throat and launching himself at Sam. After a couple of exchanged punches, Sam got the upper hand, managing to make a deep gash on the demon. The demon dropped the brief case and made a quick escape.

Sam looked down at the knife, staring at the blood. His head pounded, and his hand shook. He remembered the power that came from drinking demon blood. The strength, the invincibility. He quickly cleaned the knife before he did something he regretted. Grabbing the briefcase, he left to meet Dean back at the hotel.

After a quick discussion, Dean made to open the briefcase, for a bright white light to shoot out, leaving the room quickly before the boys could react.

"Whoa, what was that?" Dean exclaimed, jumping back in shock.

Castiel replied, his mouth filled with food, "it's a human soul. It's starting to make sense," finishing off his sentence with another ravenous bite of his burger.

"How is this making sense?" Sam questioned.

"And when did you start eating?" Dean followed.

Castiel paused from eating, "exactly. My hunger, it's a clue actually. This town is not suffering from some love-gone-wrong effect. It's suffering from hunger. Starvation, to be exact. Specifically, Famine."

"Famine?" Sam asked incredulously, "as in the horseman?"

"Great, that's just fricken great," Dean added, tiredly running his hands through his hair.

Sam looked confused, "I thought famine meant hunger, like as in, ya know, food."

"Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something, sex, attention, drugs, love."

Dean nodded, "well, that explains the puppy-lovers that Cupid shot up."

"Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it," Castiel explained still consuming his burger.

Dean looked on in interest, "okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?"

"It's my vessel, Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect."

"So, Famine just rolls into town and everybody goes crazy?"

Castiel put his burger down, his voice changing tone, clearly reciting something he learnt long ago, something that he knew to the depths of his soul, "'And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air.'" Castiel paused, the recital done, "Famine is hungry. He must devour the souls of his victims."

"So, that's what was in the briefcase-The twinkie dude's soul?" Dean asked, concerned.

Castiel nodded, his focus back on his meal, "Lucifer has sent his demons to care for Famine, to feed him, make certain he'll be ready."

"Ready for what?" Sam asked, a little scared to hear the answer.

"To March across the land."

Dean and Castiel came up with game plan, not noticing Sam's panic in the bathroom.

"Whatever," Dean replied to Castiel's explanation that he could stop eating meat whenever he liked, "Sam, let's roll."

"Dean, I, uh, can't. I can't go."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it got me. I'm hungry for it."

"Hungry for what?" Sam shot a meaningful look at Dean, "Demon blood?"

Sam hung his head, shamed that his willpower had been overcome.

"You got to be kidding me." Dean said in frustration, turning to Castiel he continued, "you got to get him out of here. You got to beam him to, like, Montana. Anywhere but here."

Castiel shook his head, "it won't work. He's already infected. The hunger is just gonna travel with him."

"Well, then, what do we do?"

"You go cut that bastard's finger off," Sam demanded from the bathroom.

"You heard him," Dean said to Cas, gathering up their gear.

"But, Dean...before you go, you better...you better lock me down, but good."

Dean grabbed some cuffs from their bag, cuffing Sam to the sink pipe in the bathroom, "All right, well, just hang in there. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Be careful. And hurry."

After finding out about the morticians death, Dean and Cas waited in the Impala. They figured that Famine's errand boys would be along to harvest the soul, leading a straight path to Famine's hide out. Since taking on this case Dean had constantly been on the move. Now sitting there, waiting for a sign of any demons, his restlessness caused his mind to go to Buffy. He was torn up doing this case while she was with Lucifer. But maybe stopping Famine would weaken Lucifer. Enough that she could be safe, anyway.

Dean's inner turmoil about Buffy was soon diverted by Castiel taking a bite into another burger, "are you serious?" Dean asked, incredulously, "how many is that?"

"I lost count. It's in the low hundreds. What I don't understand is, where is your hunger, Dean?"

"Huh?"

"Well, slowly but surely, everyone in this town is falling prey to Famine, but so far, you seem unaffected," Castiel explained, taking another mouth full.

"Hey, when I want to drink, I drink. When I want sex, I go get it. Same goes for a sandwich or a fight."

"So, you're saying you're just well-adjusted?"

Dean scoffed, "God, no. I'm just well-fed."

Cas' attention was diverted to the front of the hospital, "look there," pointing to a man in suit, carrying a brief case similar to the one in their hotel room. Dean quickly started the car, following the Demon at a safe distance.

Dean and Cas followed the demon to a Biggerson's Restaurant, and sat outside trying to figure out a plan.

Dean peered in side, "Demons. You want to go over the plan again? Hey, happy meal. The plan?"

Castiel raised his face from his food to consider the restaurant, "I take the knife, I go in, I cut off the ring hand of Famine, and I meet you back here in the parking lot."

"Well, that sounds foolproof." Dean murmured, turning to see that Cas had already disappeared. Dean started fidgeting almost immediately, within seconds, he was reaching for the door handle, "this is taking too long."

Dean ran inside, finding Castiel huddled on the ground, stuffing ground meat into his face, "Cas? Cas!" He ran to pull him off but was stopped by two demons, which dragged him towards an old wheelchair bound man. Dean might not have been a slayer or witch, but he could feel the power rolling off of him. He looked at his hand to find a thick silver ring, with a green jewel nestled in the middle.

The man looked up at him, "The other Mr. Winchester," he spoke with a surprisingly strong voice, considering the state of his vessel.

"What did you do to him?" Dean demanded, pointing at Cas.

"You sicced your dog on me. I just threw him a steak."

"So this is your big trick? Huh? Making people cuckoo for cocoa puffs?"

"Doesn't take much-hardly a push. Oh, America-all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants. And yet, you're all still starving because hunger doesn't just come from the body, it also comes from the soul."

"It's funny, it doesn't seem to be coming from mine," Dean commented, his tone demanding an explanation and boasting at the same time.

"Yes. I noticed that. Have you wondered why that is? How you could even walk in my presence?"

"Well, I like to think it's because of my strength of character."

"I disagree," Famine commented, moving closer to Dean to be able to touch him, "yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex."

"Oh, you're so full of crap."

"Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to your little Slayer, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just, keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already...dead. Not even your girl can bring you back."

"Let him go," Sam demanded from behind Famine. Without Dean or Famine realising, Sam had come through the back undetected, surprising them both. His face was covered in blood.

"Sam," Famine croaks out.

"Sammy, no!" Dean yelled, noticing two demons moving forward to attack his brother.

"Stop! No one lays a finger on this sweet little boy," Famine yelled at his demons, before turning to Sam and taking on a gentler tone, "Sam, I see you got the snack I sent you."

Sam looked confused, "you sent?"

"Don't worry. You're not like everyone else. You'll never die from drinking too much. You're the exception that proves the rule. Just the way, Satan wanted you to be. So," Famine lifted his hands, gesturing to the demons, "cut their throats. Have at them!"

"Sammy, no!" Dean yelled from the sidelines.

"Please, be my guest," Famine commented with a sickly smile.

Sam lifted his hand, closed his eyes, and pulled all five demons from their bodies at one, while Dean looked on in shock. The demon essence pooled on the floor, making the ground look like it had been spilled with oil.

Sam opened his eyes, and lowered his hand, "no."

Famine looked at him with frustration only for a second before smiling, "well, Fine. If you don't want them, then I'll have them." With a harsh intake of breath, Famine pulled the smoke towards his mouth, inhaling their essence.

Sam took the moment to step forward, raising his arm towards Famine.

"I'm a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn't work on me."

"You're right. But it will work on them," Closing his eyes, Sam pulled the demons from Famines body, causing Famine to scream in pain.

Sam pulled with everything he had, causing his nose to spurt with blood and his face grimace in pain. Within moments, the smokey black essence of the demons was pulled from the Horseman, leaving him slumped in his chair, eyes vacant.

"Are you sure this will work?" Dean asked for the twentieth time.

Willow, patient as always, nodded, "the spell will drive all the demon blood from his body. Toxins-be-gone!" she joked, nervously, "it'll be a brutal few hours. The withdrawal process will hit harder, but it'll be over quicker," she finished, more sombrely.

Their discussion was cut off by another intense scream from Bobby's safe room.

"It's not really him in there, Dean, not really," Willow said, trying to comfort Dean.

"I know," Dean replied, not very convincingly.

Author Note:

Hey guys, been a while again (I know, im the worst). I hope you like this chapter. I didn't really want to do a lot of canon eps in this story, so I glossed over a lot of the episode. Unfortunately I need this ep in my plot, so I put it in. I love supernatural and their eps but I just feel like theyre always my weaker sections. I feel like by using the transcripts, it makes my riting more robotic or something.

Anyway, send me a review and telll me what you think, I'm dying for some feedback. I really liked the spike/dean interaction and want to see if you did too!

thanks for reading!