Misconceptions

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Misconceptions

"So it turns out that Louisa Abbott was a fake identity after all," Buffy explained to Dean as the two of them strolled, side by side, through the town one night on patrol. "Apparently Little Miss Corpse's real name was Juliet Anderson."

"How'd they find out? Using the teeth thing?"

It had been almost a week since they had faced that first vampire nest together, and ever since then Dean had insisted on patrolling with Buffy every night. She wasn't sure why, because aside from the occasional civilized conversation when it was absolutely necessary, they still spent most of their time bickering. She had tried to tell him she didn't need help, but still he insisted. And though she would rather eat her own tongue than admit it, Buffy was beginning to find that she didn't actually hate his company all that much. When they were getting along, he was funny and he made her laugh a lot and he had interesting stories and most of the things he said actually made sense to her, even while Sam and Faith were looking at him like he was crazy. And when they were arguing, he got her so riled up and angry and...passionate. Passionate in a way she hadn't felt in a good long time. And having someone alongside her on the lonely patrols – and a skilled fighter at that – wasn't exactly popping up on her list of Buffy's Bad Things. Loneliness never seemed to be an issue when he was around.

"No. For some really boring reason that I didn't really listen to they couldn't get anything from her dental...whatever. So they scanned her skull into this machiny thingy and used it to digitally reconstruct her facial features onto a computer."

"They actually dug her up and separated her head from her body? Now that's just gross, even for me."

"I know right, that's what I said! But then George the way too sensitive lab guy got all offended and wouldn't talk to me anymore so I had to get the rest from Willow. Scientists can be so tetchy, which is weird cause I always thought that it was artists who were supposed to be very emotional about their work, you know? Anyway, apparently they scanned her face through some database and it matched up with this Juliet girl. Same date of birth and death as on the gravestone, just a different name."

Dean was about to question her further when he felt the presence of her hand on his chest, halting his movements. Silently, she nodded her head to a point somewhere across the road. Dean followed her gaze, watching in disgust as an extremely inebriated girl was half carried and half dragged into an alley across the street by a slimy looking man. There was nothing that wasn't wrong about that situation. Either that son of a bitch was dragging her down there to take advantage of her, or he was gonna drain her dry. Man, the world was sick. Without saying a word, they sprinted across the street and dispatched what turned out to be a vampire easily, before helping the mostly unharmed girl out of the alley and into a passing taxi. Dean handed the taxi driver some money and told him to take the girl to a hospital just in case.

When he got back to Buffy, she was working hard to try and conceal her surprise. Noticing him watching her, she turned away, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from saying anything dumb or stupid.

"What?" Dean asked, his voice coming out a little aggressively as he worked hard at not staring at her mouth.

She shrugged and dug her hands into her pockets, looking a little embarrassed. "Nothing. That was just really nice of you is all. Every time I start thinking that you're just a giant ass you go and surprise me by doing something decent."

Dean eyed her carefully, searching her face to see if she was making fun of him. When her expression remained awkward and slightly uncomfortable, he had to concede that she was in fact being serious. "You getting soft on me, Summers?"

Buffy huffed, turning around to stalk away, muttering darkly about him under her breath about how much of an ass he was and how she'd spoken too soon.

Dean cringed and resisted the urge to kick himself..hard. What the hell was wrong with him? Every time she started being nice he had to go and say something stupid to piss her off and make her hate him even more. It was like he was cursed around her or something. Whenever she was around he seemed to revert back to that jerk of a twelve year old boy who was mean to a girl just because he liked her. Not that he liked Buffy. Not as in, like liked her. Because that would just be incredibly dumb. The thought of what Faith alone would do to him if he ever...just thinking about it was enough to make him wince.

Shaking his head at himself, he jogged after her. "So who was she?" he asked once he had caught up. "This Juliet chick, I mean. Who was she?"

Buffy slowed her pace down, rolling her eyes at his unspoken apology. It was there though, in the hopeful tone of his voice and the slightly widened eyes. He was just stubborn. And she could understand that, because so was she. "We can't find a lot of information about her, but she was on the list of registered witches."

"They have register lists for witches?"

"Yuh huh."

"Is Willow a registered witch?"

"Yup. I mean, she wasn't at first. But then she went through this...thing. A bad thing. I mean, I can't really talk about it." She glanced over at him to see if he understood. He did, if the slight nod of his head was anything to go by. "After every thing that happened, she went to work with this coven in England and while there she was registered officially as a witch. She's amazing, she really is. One of the highest levels."

"What level was Juliet?"

"She was high up there, too. Not as good as Willow, but she would have been a pretty powerful Wicca. Finding this out has been a pretty good lead for us. Willow contacted one of the women from the coven in England and they were able to give us more, though not much. Apparently she was in a different coven, and they were guardians of some sort."

Dean's eyebrows knitted together as he began to add things up. "Wait, guardians of the amulet, you think?"

"Well, that's where we start guessing. But it's very likely, though. And we think she may have been killed guarding the amulet, which is why she was given the honor of being buried with it."

"Wow."

"Yep."

"But we still don't know what this amulet does?"

"Nope."

"Or what your freaky shared dream thing with Faith was about?"

"Nope."

"Or even who those creepy white faced demons are?"

"Nope."

"Huh." He seemed to consider it for a long moment. "You guys suck."

By this time, they had reached the park. As far as Buffy could tell, it seemed empty. Sometimes when she patrolled the parks she would come across gangs of kids hanging out even though it was late and dark out. People could be so dumb. If it wasn't her sacred duty and all she'd totally go tell the human race to save their own butts for once, because they sure as hell didn't help make her job any easier.

As they entered through the park gates, Buffy stopped and turned to Dean, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. "Yeah, like you guys are doing so much better? You have access to all our resources andyou said you had all those contacts. Those other hunters or whatever. And what have you come up with, huh?"

Dean scoffed and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to come back with a reasonable answer. "We're...getting there," he announced, lamely.

Buffy snorted, dismissing him and continuing their walk deeper into the park.

"It must be so much fun being right all the time, huh princess?" Dean called as he stomped after her. Where in the hell did she get off being all high and mighty with him?

Buffy once again stopped and spun around to face him. "Nope. What's fun is making you stutter like a tiny man child. Makes me giggle every time." Her playful tone was betrayed only by the anger that flared in her eyes.

"Have I mentioned today how much I don't like you?"

"Have I mentioned today how much you really need to come up with some new insults? Cause I gotta tell you, it's getting old. Ooh! Just like that piece of crap car you drive."

Dean breathed in deeply, trying to contain his fury. Man, this chick got him fired up like no one else could. And no matter what he said or did, she always freakin' bounced back with a new one. Slowly, he expelled the breath through his nose and clenched and unclenched his fists. "If you were a dude I would take. you. down."

To his enormous chagrin, Buffy burst out into loud peals of laughter. "I'm sorry," she breathed through spurts of giggles. "I'm just...it's just so funny!" She bent over and clutched at her stomach, making no effort whatsoever to hide her amusement. "You thinking you could...'take me down'," she repeated, imitating his voice.

All this time, Dean stood, stiffly and in silence, watching her through very narrowed eyes. He couldn't decide what he was more pissed about. The fact that she was stood there, blatantly laughing at him, or the fact that despite it being at his own expense, making her laugh was the happiest he'd felt all day. In the short time he'd known her, he hadn't seen her do it all that often. It brought color to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes and...damn it! There he went again.

And she was still laughing.

Okay, enough was enough.

Unnoticed by Buffy, he took a step forward and kicked out at her legs, swiftly sweeping them from under her.

"Oomph!" she cried out as her back hit the floor. Without moving from where she lay, she looked up at Dean in shock. "Big cheater!" She lifted herself up onto one elbow and stuck out her bottom lip.

He stood next to her and crossed his arms, a smug smirk adorning his face. "Told you I'd take you down," he drawled.

"But you cheated! I wasn't paying attention!"

He shrugged casually. "What can I say? I don't play fair."

Suddenly, Buffy's gaze switched from his face to a point behind his shoulder, and her eyes widened. "Dean, watch out!" she exclaimed.

Dean whipped around to see what was coming, slipping his gun out of its hiding place as he did so. By the time he had realized that there was nothing there, and that Buffy had in fact tricked him, it was already too late and she had kicked out from where she lay on the floor and knocked him over, much in the same way as he had done to her not a minute before. Before he even had a chance to curse, Buffy had rolled on top of him and had her stake pinned above his heart.

"I win!" she remarked sweetly. She sat up with a smug impression, but didn't move off of him, nor did she remove her stake.

Dean, while attempting to catch his breath, was trying very hard not to move. It was bad enough that she was wriggling away on top of him, unaware of the way she was affecting certain groin areas, but the fact that he could see right down her shirt while she leaned forward with her stake like that was enough to drive him almost crazy. And hell, if she didn't stop that wriggling soon then she'd become very aware. "I'm not a vampire," he croaked out. "No need to stake me."

Buffy pouted. "But if you were a vampire, I would have won."

"Who's the cheater now?"

"You're not the only one who likes to play dirty," she murmured, her voice low and seductive in a way he had never heard her use before.

Holy crap! Why did she have to start talking like that?

He didn't want her. He didn't want her. He didn't want her. If he kept on repeating the mantra in his head it would be true, right?

She let out a little gasp as he moved his hands to her thighs.

Okay, he wanted her. He admitted it. He finally admitted it. He wanted Buffy Summers, slayer of vampires, and he was pretty sure he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his whole frikkin' life. More even than that bitch of a cheerleader, Jennifer Brown, back in twelfth grade, who had refused to have sex with him for the whole month that he had attended her school, and only given it up in the end because he was leaving town the next day. At least little Jenny hadn't come attached with a whole load of super strength and a sort of but not quite, equally strong sister who would quite happily chop him up into itty bitty Dean bits if he stepped out of line because he had met her first. Damn it, he was screwed.

She went to put her stake back in her pocket, and Dean took advantage of her moment of distraction to flip her over so that their positions were reversed and she was once again on her back, and he was hovering overher. He leaned forward to pin her hands above her head, taking note of how her breath seemed to hitch as he did so. She could have pushed him off easily, he knew that. Yet she didn't. He looked down at her, but her expression was unreadable. God, he would give anything to be able to read her mind right now.

Dean forgot what he had planned on doing next. He forgot why they were on the floor. He forgot why she was on her back, why he was on top of her. He could only concentrate on one thing at a time. His eyes flicked from the slight movement of her parted lips every time she took a breath, to the flare of her nostrils, to the tendril of hair sat across her cheek. To her eyes...

Time became meaningless as they watched each other, their eyes never leaving the others', both searching for something, but neither knowing what. Their faces were only inches apart, and Dean could feel her warm breath tickle his lips.

After an eternity, Buffy finally opened her mouth to speak. He waited, with bated breath, to hear what she had to say.

"Slimy demon," she whispered.

"What?" He puzzled at her odd statement, more than a little disorientated.

"There's a slimy demon stood behind you."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, like I'm falling for that one agai-" His sentence was interrupted when a strong, cold, slimyhand gripped the back of his jacket and yanked him up, throwing him carelessly to the ground a few feet away from Buffy. "Son of a bitch!"

Buffy rolled her eyes and reached into her boots for where she had stored her dagger. "I did warn you," she grumbled under her breath, before leaping to her feet.

After the demon had easily been dispatched and burnt – courtesy of Dean – both slayer and hunter made sure to stand a good couple of feet away from each other. Both were feeling awkward, and as they stared down at their shoes, neither was quite sure of what to say in regards of their earlier 'moment', if that was indeed what it was.

Buffy could have slapped herself. What was she thinking? Because as much as she'd like to pretend otherwise, she had totally been flirting with him! In her own weird, violent way, of course. Knocking him down, straddling him, letting him pin her down...

If only she could get the way he had been looking at her out of her mind. Like, she was the only girl in the world, in his world. And she really needed to forget how his body had felt on top of hers...

"We should go," she suggested finally, the pitch of her voice coming out higher than she had meant it to.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, um...home. Your home. We should...go there." He coughed needlessly, and the two didn't move for another awkward beat.

"Right," they both said simultaneously, before turning and walking briskly back out towards the park exit.

The next day, Buffy arrived home from the school to find Sam in the living room of her apartment, watching the TV... loudly. She knew what this meant, of course. It had become almost a ritual for Sam and Buffy when Dean and Faith were being particularly loud – blast the television or find some excuse to leave the apartment entirely.

Kicking off her shoes, she checked her watch as she slid onto the sofa next to Sam. "Geez, it's only four o'clock. They get earlier and earlier each day." She leaned against Sam's side and he slipped an arm around her shoulders companionably. "What're you watching?"

"No idea," he replied. "I was trying to find your white faced demons on the net when they came in an hour ago. They've been going ever since. I tried to carry on researching but I couldn't concentrate over the noise of the TV."

"Maybe we should soundproof Faith's room," Buffy mused.

"Or ban Dean from going on patrol with you."

"How'd you figure?"

"Well he's always too tired to...you know...after he gets back from patrol, which I think is why they go at it in the afternoon."

"Ew." She shook her head. "We're thinking about their sex life way too much."

Sam made a face. "You're right. They make it hard not to, though."

Buffy nodded in agreement, and they sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching what had turned out to be a surprisingly interesting documentary on red squirrels.

Sam felt Buffy shift, and when he turned to look at her, he noticed with some trepidation the mischievous glint that had lit up her eyes.

"Hey Sammy," she said innocently, before breaking out into a wide, naughty looking smile. "I have a wicked idea."

An hour and a half later, Dean slipped on his t-shirt and jeans and stretched his arms in satisfaction. He turned to glance at Faith, who was snoring lightly in the bed, before grabbing his jacket and heading out of the bedroom door.

"Buffy?" he called. "You ready to head out? I'm in the mood to kick some evil ass!"

There was no answer. He frowned. He knew she was in, because he could hear that annoying pop music coming from her bedroom.

"Buffy?" he repeated, banging on her bedroom door. "We gonna patrol or what?"

Her bedroom door was suddenly whipped open, and Dean found himself stumbling back a few paces in surprise.

"Holy..." he started. Because here was Buffy as he'd never seen her before. Dark, smokey, seductive eyes, red lips, tousled hair that was just dying for him to run his fingers through. Tiny, tiny dress and big, big , merciful Jesus!

"What?" she asked, when he seemed incapable of finishing his sentence.

Dean swallowed loudly, and Buffy fought hard to hold in her grin. She'd made him speechless, like, actually speechless. It had been a long while since she'd made an effort to look sexy, and damn she was glad she hadn't lost her touch.

"You um...look...you look..."

"I look what?"

He cleared his throat loudly. "Is that what you're going patrolling in?" God, he hoped not. No way was he concentrating on anything but how beautiful she looked if she went out looking like that. He'd probably end up as some vamp's bitch when he wasn't concentrating just because he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

Buffy arranged her face into an innocent expression. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" she chirped. "Giles is taking some of the girls out on patrol tonight because he knew I had a date."

Dean's eyes widened and his face seemed to pale. "You have a date?" he blurted.

Before Buffy had a chance to answer, Sam strolled out of Dawn's bedroom, looking smart in his shirt and tie. His suit jacket hung casually over his shoulder as he sauntered over to where Buffy and Dean were stood.

"You ready to go?" he asked Buffy.

Dean's eyes whipped from Buffy to Sam and back again, widening to a comical level. "You're kidding me, right?"

Buffy took the arm that Sam held out to her and smiled up at him adoringly. "Yep. All ready," she said, ignoring Dean's splutters.

"You two are going on a date?" Dean asked loudly, his face disbelieving.

Sam looked over at Dean, a puzzled frown marring his features. "You look upset. Is something wrong?"

Dean seemed to stumble over his words for a moment, his face changing from the pale hue it had taken on to a darker red. "I'm not upset," he scoffed. "I just...what about patrol?"

Before Buffy had a chance to reexplain about Giles and the mini slayers, Faith, still dazed from sleep, stumbled out of her bedroom, coming to a confused halt when she spotted the others all seemingly gathered around in the hallway.

"Andrew making films on the crapper again?" she asked knowingly.

Dean and Sam both looked at her weirdly. "Huh?"

"Never mind." She rubbed her eyes and ran her hands through her messy hair and and stretched. "Wow, B. You look hot."

"Buffy and Sam are going on a date," Dean informed her, sounding suspiciously like he was telling on them. He watched her for her reaction, expecting to see the same disapproval that he was feeling. After all it was Buffy. And Sam. It was just...whacked up.

But Faith just chuckled and gave Sam a knowing look. "I knew you wanted to get into her pants! See, I'm never wrong about these things. It's like a gift or something." She waited smugly for the blush to spread across Sam's cheeks and the embarrassed stutter to kick in. Teasing Sam had become a favorite pastime of hers. He was just so easily wound up.

However, much to Faith's surprise, Sam just shrugged and smiled cheekily. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she would almost say he was leering. "A man's got needs," he agreed, removing his arm from Buffy's and slipping it around her waist. He pulled her against his side and slipped his hand a little lower, and Buffy...giggled!

Both Faith and Dean seemed to choke at the display, but Buffy just swatted Sam's chest playfully. "Oh Sammy, you're such a guy. What am I going to do with you?"

Sam smirked down at her, winking suggestively, before turning back to Dean and Faith. "Sorry guys, but we'd better shoot. Don't wanna miss our reservations."

Faith and Dean didn't seem to be able to close their gaping mouths, let alone form a coherent sentence, so without waiting for a goodbye, Buffy and Sam turned and moved towards the front door. Buffy couldn't resist taking one last glance behind her before they left the apartment. Neither of them had moved a muscle. "Don't wait up!" she chirped, cheerfully.

"Yeah," Sam called back to them. "We'll probably just stop off at a motel at the end of the night anyway. Don't wanna wake you guys up. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"A motel?" Dean repeated faintly.

The last thing he caught was Sam's wink before the door slammed behind him, and he and Buffy were gone.

Sam and Buffy made it all the way to the stairwell before they burst into hysterical laughter. They let go out of each other, both grasping onto the rails to keep themselves from falling over.

"Oh God," Buffy choked out. "Did you see their faces when you said that thing about having needs? You shocked Faith! I don't think that's ever happened before!"

"I know," Sam wheezed, clutching at his stomach and trying to breathe properly. "I don't know what freaked them out more. Me acting like a man whore or you giggling like a school girl."

"And not punching you in the nose. Did you see Dean change colors when we told him we were going on a date? I've never seen anything like it."

"I can't believe he actually believed us." Although come to think of it, Sam did have to wonder at Dean's reaction. He and Buffy had planned to dress up and act slutty just to mess with Dean and Faith a bit to get back at them for all the noise they made, but Dean had looked at Sam like he had wanted to beat him down or something. Like he was...hurt? And he'd been gazing at Buffy as if he wanted to devour her whole. Maybe he needed to have words with his big brother the next time they had a moment alone. "So what to you wanna do now?" he asked, once he had managed to calm himself down.

Buffy shrugged. "Well, we got dressed up all pretty. We might as well do something."

"Yeah, I didn't say it before but you look great."

Buffy grinned and slapped his arm playfully. "You don't look so bad yourself. You clean up nice."

"Thanks." Sam smiled bashfully, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. "You wanna go to a restaurant or something? Grab a bite to eat."

Buffy contemplated it for a moment. "Yay to the food, nay to the restaurant. You know what I've been hankering for all day?"

"What?"

"A burger."

"Sounds good."

"And then we can go to a bar and you can teach me how to play pool so that the next time Dean challenges me I can totally hustle his ass."

Sam chuckled and wrapped his arm around Buffy's shoulders. "You know something, I like you Buffy Summers."

"Thanks, cowboy. I kinda like you too."

It hadn't taken Faith long to get over her shock at Sam's behavior, and she was now finding herself thoroughly amused at the whole situation. "I just don't see why you're making a deal out of it," she said offhandedly to Dean as she strolled into the kitchen.

Dean huffed, stalking after her stiffly. "I'm not making a big deal!" he protested. "It's just...Sam and Buffy. Am I the only one who's seeing how wrong that is?"

"Yeah." Faith opened the fridge, looking for something to sate her hunger. After a moments search, she found the lunchbox Andrew had packed for himself for the next day. Opening it up, she removed the sandwich and put the rest of the lunch and the lunchbox back in the fridge.

"Mm, guy sure knows how to make a mean snack," she mumbled around her food after taking a large bite. She watched Dean for a few long moments as she chewed. He was leaning against the counter and his arms were crossed and he was pouting. Man, he was such a brat. She sighed, and lowered the sandwich. What was it with her having to give the Winchester boys pep talks all the time, and especially about Buffy? It was getting annoying. "Look, the way I see it, Sammy needs to let loose. Have a little fun, you know? And if Buffy's the one he wants to do it with, even better. Girl may not be as tightly wound as she used to be, but it's been a damn long time since she's had a good rough and tumble, as far as I know."

Dean heaved a sigh and said nothing. There was nothing he could say. There was no logical reason for why he was so against Buffy and Sam going on a date. Hell, he was forever trying to get the kid to go out and get laid. It was just...why did it have to be her?

Faith finished her sandwich, wiping away the crumbs and throwing the clingfilm into the trash can. "I'm going back to bed," she informed him. "You coming?"

"Nah," he replied, waving a hand distractedly. "I'm not tired. I think I'll head out and do a quick sweep on my own."

"I thought you said that Buffy told you Giles were taking some of the mini me's out tonight?"

"Yeah, but-"

"If the slayers are out, then trust me when I say they're not gonna want you around. We try to look after them until we think they're ready to head out there on their own, but they're dying for some action. They have all these new super powers and they just wanna use them. And having a hunter get there first ain't gonna make them happy. Now when I say I'm going to bed, I don't mean to sleep, you get me?" Without waiting for an answer, Faith flicked her hair and sauntered back towards her bedroom, making sure to wiggle her butt enticingly.

Dean sighed again, and with one last accusatory glare towards the front door, he slipped of his jacket and made to follow Faith.

"Okay, I gotta tell you something," Buffy started, as she and Sam both slid themselves and their drinks down into a tight booth in a seedy looking bar. "I'm not a big drinker. Seriously. Don't let me have more than like, two of these." She pointed down to her beer.

Sam chuckled, loosening his tie and pulling off his jacket. "You can't be that bad."

Buffy looked at him and raised a single, challenging brow. "Oh, I really am. Bad things happen when Buffy drinks. Bad, bad things."

Sam laughed again and sipped at his beer. "I'm not much of a big drinker either. I usually only have one or two or I'll end up feeling crappy in the morning. Dean though, he could clear out the bar and still wake up fresh as a daisy."

Buffy snorted and shook her head. "And that just doesn't surprise me at all."

During their first beer, they chatted some more about hunting and the supernatural forces they'd come across.

During their second, they talked a little more about their families.

During their third, Sam felt loosened up enough to finally bring something up that had been playing on his mind ever since the night that Faith and Dean had woken him up and told him that they were heading to Cleveland.

"Buffy...how long have you...uh, had those...psychic dream things? I mean, have you always had them?"

She shook her head. "No, I only started getting the slayer dreams after I was called. I guess prophetic dreams come with being the prophecy girl and all."

"Oh...right. Do you get them often?"

"Sometimes I can go a whole year without one. They come as warnings, I suppose. So I can stop whatever big bad is coming for me next."

This didn't seem to be the right thing to say, because Sam's whole face dropped, his shoulders sagged and he tipped the beer bottle to his mouth and downed it in three long swigs.

Buffy's eyes narrowed in curiosity. She reached out to place a soothing hand on Sam's. "Sam, are you okay? Why are you so interested in my dreams?"

"It's nothing."

"It's clearly something." He voice was low and she spoke softly. "Look, don't tell me if you don't want to. But if there's something eating on your mind, you should talk to someone. Keeping things locked up inside is never good for anyone. Trust me, I've been there. You'll get so full of it that you'll end up exploding." Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she drifted off into a distant memory, and she pulled her face into a grimace. "Of course, back in high school that was entirely possible..."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Sam watched her for a long time, his face indecisive. He didn't seem about to speak, so Buffy busied herself with finishing off her third beer, sipping it slowly and sporadically. He still hadn't seemed to make his mind up by the time her bottle was empty.

Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

"My girlfriend, Jess...she died not so long ago."

Dean had told Buffy about Sam's girlfriend. How she had been killed in a fire, and how they suspected it was caused by the same demon that had killed their mother. The same demon they and their father had been chasing ever since. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. But that's not...I...I had...there was..."

"There was what?"

He slipped his fingers from hers and buried his face in both of his shaking hands. "Buffy, I had dreams. Before Jess died, I dreamed it would happen. Over and over again. And I never did anything. I could have stopped it! I could have stopped it and I never did."

Buffy felt her heart break for him. For all the hard, raw pain she could hear in his voice. And then came the shock. Sam had psychic dreams? That was strange. But shock wasn't what he needed right now. "How could you have stopped it, Sam?" she asked, trying to make him see reason.

"I should have told her. About me, about what I do. About demons. If I had, she might have..."

"Might have what?"

He dropped his hands to the table and looked at Buffy, his face betraying the expression of a broken man. "I don't know."

Buffy stood and moved over to his side of the booth, sliding herself in beside him. She placed both of her hands on his large shoulders and shook him a little to force him to face her. "Look at me Sam. It was not. your. fault. I know what happened, and you can't blame yourself, okay."

"But you said it yourself, you get the dreams so that you can stop the bad guys. I got the dreams and I did nothing."

"I get the dreams because I'm the slayer. It's my duty to protect the world. And I don't know why you get them, Sam. I guess...some people are just different. But you need to stop feeling so guilty. Because it'll kill you." He nodded, but she knew he wasn't convinced. Not by a long shot. "Have you spoken to Dean about this?"

"No. He wouldn't understand."

"You should. You can't hide something like this from him. You know he'll find out eventually, and he'll be pissed that you kept it from him for so long."

"I know. I know I should tell him. And I will. Just...not yet."

They sat in a contemplative silence for a long time, both staring at their empty beer bottles as they each thought about the implications of their conversation.

"Thank you," Sam said finally.

"It's okay."

"No really. I haven't...I haven't told anyone before. It feels good to talk to someone, you were right."

"Thank you for telling me."

"I hardly know you and I feel like I can trust you."

"You can trust me."

They smiled at each other, before Buffy giggled and tapped her empty beer bottle. "Okay, I think this stuff is making us get all sappy."

"You're right. We should get some more to make it go away."

During the fourth beer, they confided in each other about their previous relationships.

During their fifth, they came up with some more suggestions on how to shut Faith and Dean up. Some were outrageous, most just silly.

During their sixth, Sam tried to teach Buffy how to play pool. But by then, he'd pretty much forgotten how to play himself.

During their seventh, they were kicked out of the bar for disturbing the other customers with their rambunctious behavior.

Dean's eyes snapped open when he heard the front door slam closed, followed by a loud shush and a set of male and female giggles. He looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Two thirty am. Well at least they hadn't gone to a motel.

He heard the two stumble down the hallway and enter Buffy's bedroom, before that door slammed closed too.

"Damn," Faith mumbled drowsily. "What's with all the noise?"

"Buffy and Sam are back. They're in Buffy's room. Together."

"Well ain't that that just dandy." And then she closed her eyes and rolled back over. Dean wished it were that easy for him.

He had never realized how thin the walls were before. Funny. He heard the sound of the springs in Buffy's bed screeching, before Buffy herself let out a little squeal and a loud thump sounded. Dean's face screwed up in horror as he heard his brother moan and the little gasping sound she made.

"Holy crap, Sammy! That's huge! Where in the hell do you hide that thing?"

Faith swiftly rolled back over and she sat up, smirking delightedly. "This just got a whole lot more interesting," she whispered.

Dean groaned almost silently and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wishing he could be anywhere else in the entire world than than in the room right next door to that of his brother and the girl he'd been fantasizing about for the past week as they got down and dirty.

"I usually just tuck it in the back so it doesn't bulge out. I don't want people to notice it and stare, you know? It might freak them out."

Faith was in fits of silent laughter. "Boy," she breathed. "Guess I picked the wrong brother."

Dean glared at her and pulled his pillow out from underneath his head to stick over his face, desperate for anything to muffle the noise.

"God, it's so hard."

"I'm sorry, Buff. Did I hurt you?"

"A little, but I'm fine now." There was a short silence before Buffy's voice could be heard again. "Now it just feels good!"

"Please shoot me," Dean begged, his voice sounding muffled from under the pillow.

Faith just snorted and flopped back down, her chest still aching from trying not to laugh too loud,

"You like that?"

"Uh huh. It's been ages since I've even seen one of these. Let alone touched one."

"We're really drunk, maybe I should put it away..."

"No! I wanna play with it."

"Seriously?" Dean moaned to himself. He wondered how long this torture was going to last.

Faith snored next to him, already having fallen back asleep. Why couldn't he fall asleep?

"Hold on a sec, let me just...safety precaution, you know?"

Well at least Sam was using a condom.

"Gotta tell you, the last time one of these were inside me, I didn't like it all that much."

Dean heard Sam mumble something else, but his voice was too quiet for him to make out the actual words. And then Buffy spoke up again.

"Yeah. I'll tell you another time. When we're not...you know...Hey, am I doing this right?"

"Perfect. Well, a little higher maybe...yeah, that's good..."

Suddenly, another door slammed loudly in the apartment, and Dean heard heavy footsteps stomp down the hallway. Faith's door was flung open, and Dean was already reaching for the gun he kept under his pillow before he realized it was just Andrew stood in the doorway in his onesie, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his pillow tucked under his arm. "I'm going to Giles' house!" he announced hotly, before turning and storming out of the apartment, yelling, "I can't stand all this sexy madness!" as the front door closed behind him.

Dean huffed, rolling out of bed to cross the room and close the bedroom door.

Five long minutes passed in complete silence. And then five more.

Dean grinned, and settled himself more comfortably into bed. It seemed the geek had managed to embarrass Buffy and Sam into shutting the hell up. And damn if that wasn't alright by him.

14 MINUTES EARLIER

After several tries, Buffy finally managed to fit her key into the apartment front door.

"I think I'm drunk," she slurred to an equally inebriated Sam.

"Me too!" he replied excitedly.

They burst into laughter at their own hilarity and fell into the apartment. Buffy slammed the door behind them.

Hafta close the door to keep the monsters out, she reminded herself.

"Ssh!" Sam warned, before breaking out into an infectious set of giggles.

Not knowing what it was that was so funny, Buffy giggled as well, and the two stumbled down the hallway to Buffy's room, each needing to grab onto the other to keep themselves from tripping. Buffy threw herself onto the bed while Sam closed the door. A second later, he followed her, but in this drunken state, he misjudged his landing and ended up top of her legs, before slipping off the bed entirely – taking a squealing Buffy with him. They landed on the floor with a loud thump.

Sam moaned as his head banged against the floor, and Buffy gasped in pain as a hard object jammed into her thigh. With a wince, he rolled off of her and pulled a gun out from his back pocket, apologetically showing her what had caused her the pain.

Buffy's eyes widened. How on earth had she not noticed he'd been carrying around that all night? "Holy crap, Sammy! That's huge! Where in the hell do you hide that thing?"

He helped her up back onto the bed. This time they managed to stay on.

"I usually just tuck it in the back so it doesn't bulge out." He showed her how usually hid it with his jacket. "I don't want people to notice it and stare, you know? It might freak them out."

Buffy once again rubbed the spot on her thigh where she had landed on it. A small, dark bruise was already beginning to form. "God, it's so hard."

"I'm sorry, Buff. Did I hurt you?"

"A little, but I'm fine now." She leaned over and plucked the gun out of his hands, holding it up and pretending to aim. "Now it just feels good!" she joked.

Sam chuckled quietly at the expression on her face. It was a mixture of a childlike excitement and a dazed befuddlement as she drunkenly tried to get her eyes to focus. "You like that?"

"Uh huh. It's been ages since I've even seen one of these. Let alone touched one." She lost her balance and fell into Sam. Her gun hand swayed dangerously and he couldn't help but wince.

"We're really drunk, maybe I should put it away..."

"No! I wanna play with it."

Sam relented, not really able to deny her when she was doing that cute sticky out lip thing. "Hold on a sec, let me just..." He took the gun out of her hands and emptied it of the bullets before handing it back to her. "Safety precaution, you know?" He held up his hand and showed her the bullets.

Buffy stared at them for a long time, a moment of past pain flickering in her eyes. "Gotta tell you," she said finally. "The last time one of these was inside me, I didn't like it all that much."

"You were shot?" Sam asked quietly, his face sympathetic. Damn, he sure knew how much that sucked.

Buffy seemed to shake herself out of the little daze the bullets had caused her to fall into, and plastered a smile and a blasé expression on her face. "Yeah. I'll tell you another time. When we're not..." She waved a hand between the two of them and mimed drinking out a bottle, unable to remember the word 'drunk'. "...you know." Once again, she lifted the gun to the air with both hands, squinting through one eye as she pretended to aim at an unknown subject. "Hey, am I doing this right?"

"Perfect." Sam nodded, and then shook his head. And then he stopped moving his head altogether because it was making him feel very dizzy. "Well, a little higher maybe..." He watched as she followed his instructions. "Yeah, that's good." And then he fell back against the bed and snored.

At the same time, Buffy heard a door slam somewhere in the apartment and Andrew yell something about Giles. Buffy looked at Sam, and then at the gun in her hand, and back at Sam again. Sighing, she placed the gun carefully on her bedside table, before crawling off the bed and lifting up Sam's legs so they weren't flopping over the side. She moved him onto the bed properly, and then removed his shoes.

Geez, she thought as she held one of them up. It was almost as long as her forearm.

Happy that her work was done, Buffy switched of the bedroom light and staggered around to the other side of the bed and dropped onto it, hoping that if she laid still for long enough, the spinning in her head would go away.

27 seconds later, she was fast asleep.