Home

Disclaimer – Don't own anything you might recognize. They all belong to their respective owners.

AN – This chapter is based on the Supernatural episode Home, and there are one or two lines taken directly from it. I'd also like to take a moment to thank everyone reading and reviewing this story, even though it's been taking me a while to get my updates out recently :s They should be quicker from now on.

Home

"So how's the memory doing?" a distracted Faith asked as she and Buffy searched through a dusty attic in an old, abandoned house.

Buffy bent over to sift through a box of junk, dipping her head so that her hair fell in a curtain across her face, successfully covering up her expression as she answered, "Same as before."

Faith shook her head sympathetically. "That sucks, man. I can't believe you don't remember anything from New Years Eve. If you're gonna go through an experience as hellish as that then you'd at least want to remember it." She stood up straight and pondered her words for a moment. "Actually, thinking about it, my logic might be flawed."

"I guess I must have banged my head pretty hard on the wall when the explosion went off," Buffy reasoned. "I don't even remember being in the warehouse, and the rest of the day is hazy too."

"I still say it sucks. Losing a part of your memory like that is like losing a little part of yourself. Oh hey, look at this!"

Buffy sighed in relief as Faith's attention was drawn away to something she deemed interesting she'd found in one of the boxes. She had never before been more grateful for her friend's short attention span. Because Faith knew her too well, and if she pursued the matter – and her questions – then she'd realize pretty much straight away that Buffy was lying about her memory loss, and then she'd want to know why her best friend was lying to her, and Buffy couldn't exactly explain that the reason she was pretending to have lost all memory of that night was so that she wouldn't have to deal with the things that Dean had said to her. The sweet, beautiful things that she never would have imagined coming from a man like him, and she especially never would have imagined that he would have aimed them at her. So yeah, she was trying to avoid dealing with them. Even if she had spent the past week thinking of nothing else. And so what if she had realized that maybe she was the unchallenged champion in the arena of avoidance, but who said she didn't like it that way? Huh? Or so maybe she didn't, but that wasn't entirely her fault. Because before she had even worked up half of the courage needed to talk to Dean himself about everything, he was claiming that he had forgotten the events of that night also. She kind of suspected that he might be faking it too.

Buffy was brought out of her manic musings when Faith dropped the piece of junk she had been studying back in its box and declared it useless. She huffed and stood up straight, wiping her dirty hands on her jeans. "This place is an obvious bust," she lamented, pouting slightly. "It's about as haunted as my left boob."

Wiping her own hands and wincing at the dirt stuck underneath her fingernails, Buffy nodded in agreement. "Stupid frikkin' kids. I almost feel like hunting them down and smacking their asses for wasting our time here."

"Know what you mean, sister. but we'll just have to settle for ragging on Sam and Dean for believing that dumber than a cheerleader ghost story in the first place. That should give us at least three or four hours of fun."

"Sounds like a plan I could learn to live with. Let's go find the guys and get the hell out of this dump."

As they were walking out of the room, Buffy nudged Faith hard enough to cause the other girl to stumble. After righting herself, Faith looked at her questioningly.

"I was a cheerleader, they're not all dumb."

Faith just snorted in response.

Much later on that evening, Buffy and Dean were walking side by side through the local graveyard in the town they were staying at, their eyes desperately seeking out something to slay so that the silence that had appeared between them would be slightly less awkward. But then, that was all the two of them had had ever since New Years Eve – awkward silences.

Buffy wasn't even sure why he had come patrolling with her in the first place. She had told him that he didn't need to. Insisted on it, even. It was a small town, and there hadn't even been the barest hint of the supernatural in the entire time they'd been there, no ghosts, no vampires, no nothing. Hell, Buffy and Faith were the closest things to demons this town had ever seen – not that she had mentioned that to him. But still he'd just shrugged his shoulders and came along anyway, just like he had on every single other night since New Years Eve too, or, as Buffy was thinking of it, 'the night that nothing had happened'.

If only she knew that the reason he accompanied her on patrol every night – the only reason – was because in his own warped way, it was Dean's idea of spending time with her.

Because he remembered it. Of course he remembered it. All of it. He remembered hurting all over and being a little dazed from a bump to the head he had discovered later on and saying things to Buffy that he probably shouldn't have said. It would have been easy to blame it on concussion, he supposed, talked to her and told her that he didn't mean it and asked her to forget all about it. But that would have been a lie, and lying to Buffy kind of made his tummy hurt. So instead he had gone with the slightly less worse option of pretending that he couldn't remember anything from that night. It was still a lie, and his tummy still hurt, but somehow it just felt better than telling her it had meant nothing at all.

Perhaps either lie wouldn't have been required had he not been such a chicken and just talked to her, told her he remembered it all and that he meant every word he'd said, but she'd claimed that her own memory was a bit nonexistent and in no way was he going to repeat any soppy movie moments twice.

Hey, he'd never denied being emotionally stunted.

So, things were as they were. Awkward. Stilted. Silent. Because if things weren't silent then they'd be talking to each other, and talking to each other couldn't be good when the only things they wanted to say were about a subject that had been unofficially tabooed, what with Faith and all. And also maybe if they did talk, then this weird, messed up relationship they had might actually begin to make sense.

And who would want something as crazy as that?

Yeah.

And so he followed her, every night he followed her. And she let him, which made him warm all over. And when he followed her there was silence, but he did it anyway, because it was a hell of a lot better than nothing at all. Although if he was completely honest, he'd rather be fighting with her. He kind of missed fighting with her.

Harsh images flashed through an unconscious Buffy's mind, causing her closed eyes to twitch and her body to flinch as she slept.

And then the nightmare that had been plaguing her was over, and she awoke with a start. She blinked, shaking her head to dispel of the sound of her heart beating loudly in her ears. But as she recalled the dream she had been having, the noise just seemed to grow harshly as the pace of her heart quickened.

No, wait. Not just a dream...a slayer dream.

Finally she – and her heart – began to calm, and with a sigh she rolled over and sat up, sparing a quick glance to the clock on her bedside table.

2:38am.

Rubbing at her tired eyes, she sneaked a peek over at the bed next to hers. Faith was still fast asleep, snoring lightly underneath her tangled bedsheets. If anything was enough to relax Buffy after what she had just witnessed, the normalcy of Faith near her was.

She closed her eyes and instantly reopened them again when flashes of the dream flickered in front of her closed eyelids. Oh God, it was so...so...there was no way she could return to sleep now. Honestly, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to. Not if images so painful were going to trouble her dreams all night long.

Silently, so as not to wake light sleeper Faith, she pushed herself out of bed and padded gently over towards the bathroom they were sharing with the guys.

When she opened the door, however, she was surprised to find it already occupied by Sam.

"Oh...sorry," she whispered with an apologetic wince, moving to close to the door again.

He didn't even seem to notice she had entered, let alone hear what she'd said, and before the door had completely closed, she stopped for a moment to watch him.

He was stood as still as stone in front of the mirror, gripping at the sides of the sink with white knuckled hands and staring into his reflection as if searching for answers he couldn't seem to find. He looked troubled, pained, hopeless.

"Sam...Sammy?"

This time, the sound of her hesitant voice seemed to break through his daze, and he started, letting go of the sink and spinning around to face her, shaking his hands to restore the flow of blood. "Buffy...how long have you been there?"

She released her hold on the door and moved further into the bathroom. "Only a minute. Are you okay? You looked kinda spacey over there."

Sam opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, shaking his head slightly. "I uhm...I..." Something flickered across his face, and he looked as if he was going through some kind of internal conflict. Buffy wondered what exactly was going through his mind. "It's nothing," he settled on eventually. "Just had a bad dream. I'll be fine, it just shook me up."

Buffy nodded, and when he mumbled something about getting back to sleep she let him go without a word. Once she was alone, she sighed heavily, moving over to the sink and mimicking his position in front of the mirror. Sam's words echoed through her mind, setting all of her thoughts since waking up into stone.

'Just had a bad dream.'

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "Yeah, that's what I thought," she murmured sadly.

Buffy had kept quiet.

Buffy had kept quiet all morning through a breakfast of coffee and donuts as Dean and Faith had scoured the internet and searched the papers, looking for potential jobs.

Buffy had kept quiet as Sam had shut himself off from everybody else, ignoring all other conversations in favor of sketching furiously inside his notebook, drawing page after page of the same tree and realizing finally that the 'bad dream' that had shook him up so terribly the night before wasn't a bad dream after all but in fact a psychic vision, a psychic vision about the house he and Dean had lived in as children, and that the people living there now were in grave danger.

Buffy had kept quiet when Sam had finally come clean to Dean about what he had told her when they had first met, about how sometimes when he had bad dreams, they came true.

Buffy had even kept quiet when after arguing the issue, Dean had finally agreed with Sam that they should go to Kansas to check out their old house for any signs of something suspicious, though he had looked like a broken man at the time. She had wanted nothing more than to take him into her arms and soothe away his pain.

But when Dean turned to her and Faith and curtly told them to pack up their crap because they'd be leaving in an hour, Buffy could no longer keep quiet.

"Faith and I aren't going," she said quietly.

Faith, who had been in the process of standing up and doing exactly what Dean had told them to do, paused and looked over at Buffy in confusion.

Dean was equally as shocked. "What?" he burst out.

Sam didn't say a word, but he observed the situation with careful eyes.

"Faith and I aren't going," Buffy repeated, calmly and firmly. "You guys...you need to do this one alone."

Dean stared at her in disbelief for a long minute, and Buffy stared at him right back, making sure she didn't waver in the slightest.

The longer he looked at her, the more he realized that this wasn't her sick idea of a joke, and that she was seriously actually telling him that she wasn't going with him. His expression went from disbelief to hurt to furious in a matter of seconds, and Buffy found that she could no longer bear to look him in the eyes.

"Oh right," he snapped. "Our little family problem getting too heavy for you, is it?"

Buffy flinched at the venom in his voice. "Dean, it's not like that-"

"No, of course not. I bet your just pretty bummed that your little holiday has been spoiled by our hunt for the thing that destroyed our family, right? Your fun trip away from home has gotten a little too serious for you so you're dropping out?" He wasn't sure what he was pissed about more – the fact that he knew for certain that she was too stubborn and was a hundred percent not going to change her mind, or how annoyingly calm she was being about the whole thing. Even now, when he was throwing words her way that he knew would hurt her, she didn't get angry or upset or even perturbed. She really didn't care at all. He threw his hands up in the air and turned away from her. "You know what, Summers, you are not who I thought you were. Not at all. Youknow how messed up this is, how hard this is gonna be for Sam and me. Don't you even care a little bit? After everything we did for you in Cleveland, can't you just be there for us this once? Or do you just not wanna get caught in the crossfire?"

Buffy was glad that his back was turned, and that he couldn't see how badly his harsh words were affecting her. Working hard to keep her voice even, she replied, "If that's really how you think of me, then I guess you aren't who I thought you were either. But you should know you're wrong. I've given you my reason for why Faith and I can't come with you, and if you can't accept it...well then I guess we've really got nothing else to say to one another."

Dean ignored most of what Buffy had said, focusing only on the part that angered him the most. "I'm wrong?I'm wrong? You're kidding me, right? I'm not the one who's taken a whole minute and a half to decide to skip out on a case that might be a little bit emotionally draining!"

She could easily have told him that in actuality, she'd had the whole night to spend thinking it over, that she'd agonized over what the right thing to do was for hours. That she was already emotionally drained by the whole thing. But then if she told him that then it would almost definitely lead to other questions. Other questions like how she already knew what was going to happen, and what would they find once they reached Kansas, and what exactly was it that was haunting their old house. And like she'd said, that was something Sam and Dean had to discover for themselves. So instead, she just sighed lightly and said, "You'll understand once you get there, I promise."

Dean snorted in response, and Buffy knew immediately that the conversation was over. "Whatever," he scoffed. "You don't wanna be there for us, fine! See if we care. Just don't expect us to come back for you when the case is finished."

Buffy said nothing else. There was nothing else to say. The things Dean had said to her...they cut her right down to the bone. But she knew how hard this was for him. How hard it was to go back that place, how hard it was to stick his vulnerabilities out there to her to see, only to have her throw them back in his face. Because that's exactly how he'd see it, even if that wasn't the case. So even though in any other situation she'd be kicking his ass so hard that he'd have difficulties sitting down for at least the next year, this time she let it go.

With a huff, Dean stormed through the room, gathering up his belongings in a messy pile and shoving them into his duffel without a thought. He was packed up in record time, and apart from a harsh, 'Hurry your goddamned ass up,' to Sam, he said nothing else as he slammed his way out of the motel room.

Sam finished packing up his stuff and looked over at Buffy apologetically. He leaned down towards her and kissed her on the forehead, before pulling away and looking into her eyes for a long moment. It was in that moment that Buffy realized with great relief that he understood that there was more to her actions than what she was saying, and that he knew that she wasn't doing this for selfish reasons.

"Thank you," she whispered softly.

He nodded and gave her a small smile. "I'll see you," was all he said before he too disappeared out of the room.

And then it was just Faith and Buffy, left in a motel room that suddenly seemed far too big. They sat in silence for a long time, listening hard as they heard the sound of the Impala's engine roaring as it drove away from the motel...and them.

Faith turned to watch Buffy, who was staring at a plain patch of wall as if had suddenly become the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. Dean's words had hurt Buffy, Faith could tell. She knew Buffy better than she knew anybody else in the whole wide world and she could see the slight shine to her eyes and the little line between her eyebrows as if they were glaring, flashing lights.

As she had watched the confrontation, Faith had been waiting for Buffy to blow up. Because Dean had beenway out of order, even if Faith didn't quite understand what Buffy's motivations were herself. But not once had Buffy lost her temper.

Faith trusted Buffy. They had a history, which was equal parts bad and equal parts good, but Faith trusted her. And she trusted Buffy's judgment. Which is why she had kept silent during the argument and why she had accepted Buffy's decision about them not accompanying the guys without a word.

She had let Sam and Dean walk out of their lives – possibly for good – because she trusted Buffy more than anyone she had ever trusted before.

But she wasn't someone who liked to be kept in the dark.

"So," she said brightly. "Now that the over dramatic twosome have left the building, do you wanna give me the real reason we're not in the car with them right now?

Buffy closed her eyes for a second, gathering her thoughts before she opened them again and looked over at Faith. "I had a dream..."

KANSAS

He'd tried not to be weak, he really had. He'd tried to be tough and unemotional about the whole thing, but it just wasn't working out the way he'd planned. Being back here, in his old town, his old house...it made him feel like a little boy again. And like a little boy, all he wanted was his dad.

And so he'd been weak, and he'd dialed his father's number, and just like every time he called, there was that small, faint hope that this time, his dad would pick up. And then there was the ritual disappointment when it went straight to answerphone.

Usually he kept his messages short and simple – a quick note here and there to tell his dad where he and Sam were at, what jobs they'd taken on, a quick request that he call him as soon as he could. But this time it was different. This time he lost his cool.

"Please, dad. Just...call me or message me or something. I...I need your help," he begged into the phone through a voice choked up and hoarse. He blinked hard and looked up, trying to force away the tears that he would never allow to fall.

He wanted to believe in his father, he really did. But even now he knew that leaving this message was a worthless effort. Did John even get any of the messages that Dean left him? And if he did, did he even care?

There was so much more he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask, so many accusations he wanted to hurl. But instead, he flipped his phone closed and shook his head, mentally scolding himself for his momentary disloyalty. Of course his father cared. He was just trying to keep them safe, that was all. Trying to protect him and Sam from whatever he was up against. And if he stopped believing that, he would surely go mad.

Goddammit, there was only one other thing in the whole world he wanted right now. Only one other voice he wanted to hear.

Before his brain even had time to register what the rest of his body was doing, his fingers had already dialed Buffy's number and had brought the phone up to his ear.

She answered before the first ring even had chance to come to an end. "Hello?"

Dean blinked in sudden realization. What the hell was he doing? Buffy didn't want him calling her and bothering her with his stupid problems. She'd made it perfectly clear that she didn't really care about him or his feelings when she had refused to accompany he and Sam to Kansas in the first place. Fucking bitch.

"Dean? Is that you? Your number came up-"

Once again, he flipped the phone shut.

Missouri Moseley. A psychic. If he hadn't of seen her name written in his father's journal, he would have dismissed the idea without a second thought. But John had written about her, and John was never wrong. And so Dean and Sam went to see her, even if Dean was still secretly a little skeptic. Okay, a lot skeptic.

But she had known. Just like that, she had known.

She had known about Sam's girlfriend and about their father going missing, and any doubts he'd had regarding psychics vanished within the first couple of minutes of meeting her. And now he wanted answers.

"Do you know where he is? Is he okay? Does he need help?" he asked her a little frantically, desperate for any light she could shed on their father.

Missouri let out a small, sad sigh. "I just don't know."

"You don't know?" Maybe his first assumptions regarding psychics had been correct after all. "I thought you were psychic? This is what you do, right? You know stuff!"

"Boy, do you see me sawing some skinny tramp in half?" she asked furiously, turning her ferocious gaze on him. He gulped audibly. "You think I'm some kinda magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room but I can't just pull facts out of thin air!" She huffed in indignation and then gestured towards the sofa and said in the same, annoyed voice, "Sit. Please."

Ignoring his brother's amused chuckles, Dean hurried forward to do exactly as the scary lady had told him to do, but was stopped when Missouri moved in front of him once more and held up a hand to stop him in his tracks.

"And by the by," she added, lifting up her arm and slapping him on the head – surprisingly hard considering how dainty her hand was. "You are a donkey's ass, Dean Winchester!"

"Hey!" he protested, rubbing his now sore head and pouting just like the child she made him feel he was again. "Ow! What was that for?"

She poked a stern and pointy looking finger in his direction. "That girl you're thinking about, she only wants what's best for you, young man. And you know it so stop treating her so bad or I'm gonna have to smack you on the behind."

Dean's eyes widened at her words. "Uh...what girl? I'm not thinking about a girl. There's no girl." He wished his voice wasn't coming out so rushed or high pitched, and he made a point of avoiding eye contact with Sam at all costs.

Missouri tutted and waved a dismissive hand as she moved towards an armchair to sit down. "Don't think you can lie to me. That girl's in every one of your thoughts, even if you don't always want her there."

Sam's chuckles had died down, and as he often seemed to be doing lately, he found himself watching his brother curiously. Wait! Was he...blushing? Sam wondered exactly who it was Missouri was talking about. Faith?...Buffy? He was pretty sure he knew.

Following Missouri's example, the two boys sat down on the sofa opposite her, both more than ready to get down to business.

"Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!"

Dean waited impatiently by the Impala for Sam to finish talking to Missouri. He knew what they were talking about – he wasn't completely ignorant. They were discussing Sam's freaky new abilities. Sam was scared, and Dean wouldn't lie...so was he. It wasn't normal. It wasn't...human. Maybe that was unfair, he didn't know. He didn't know about any of this. It was kind of new territory. Should he talk to Sam about it? Should he avoid it? Should he call his dad and let him know in a message?

He shook his head. Such thoughts could be kept for later. Much later when he wasn't still physically andemotionally tired. Fighting the poltergeist and seeing his mother's spirit had left him...drained.

"Sam, you ready to go?" he called out finally, fed up of being left alone with his own confusing thoughts.

Sam looked up from his conversation and nodded, climbing to his feet and holding out his hand to help up Missouri.

"Now don't you boys be strangers," she said as she ambled over to the car after Sam, giving each of them a long, pointed look.

"We won't," Dean promised.

She glanced over at him, watching his face searchingly with one perfectly arched brow raised. "Well? What are you lingering around here for? You better hurry on back to your girls, otherwise Buffy might just not be there when you return."

Dean froze still for a long moment. His whole body felt as if it had just been dunked into a tub of ice cold water, and a dark feeling of dread was spreading throughout his entire being, beginning right at the very center of his heart. When he finally snapped out of it, his expression was stony. "Sam, get in the car. Now."

Sam looked at his brother in surprise, a little fearful of the manic look in his eyes. He said a quick goodbye to Missouri and did exactly as he was told. He'd barely had time to put on his seat-belt before Dean had the car moving, speeding away from Missouri and their old house and leaving a large cloud of dust in his wake.

Missouri walked back into her house, a severely unamused look marring her usually jolly features. "John Winchester, I could just slap you silly, I really could!" she said with an angry sniff. "Why don't you just talk to your children already? At least leave them some kind of message, let them know you're okay."

John shook his head pitifully and peeked up at her through the hands covering his face. "God, you have no idea how much I want to. I wanna see them so damned much. But I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth."

Moving forwards to sit opposite him, she heaved out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Well, I think you're a fool."

He didn't show any signs of disagreeing with her. "But they're okay?" he asked, after a long and lengthy pause.

"As okay as they can be without a father around to watch their backs." Her face softened a smidgeon. "They grew up nice, John. Real nice. You did well."

"And Dean's finally gone and fallen for a young girl?"

"Fallen hard, I should tell you."

He chuckled, warmed by this news. "Never thought I'd see the day. And a slayer, at that."

"Not just a slayer...the slayer."

John let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Buffy Summers. I've heard some tales about her, I can tell you. At least she'll be able to take care of herself. And keep my son in line."

"Yes, they'd make a beautiful pair...if he ever works up the courage to tell her how he really feels, that is. He's a stubborn child, that one." She looked at him meaningfully. "Just like his daddy."

Sam wanted to throw up. He sincerely wished he hadn't of insisted on stopping for food ten minutes before, because now all he wanted to do was bring it all back up. It was the careless way in which Dean was driving which was the problem, and the fact that the Impala was speeding down the road so fast that the outside surroundings were nothing more than a dark blur.

"Dean, will you just slow down for a minute? Please," he begged, gripping onto the edges of his seat like that would keep him safe.

Dean didn't even spare a glance in his direction. "Will you chill out, Sammy. We're practically there."

"I know, but you've been driving almost double the speed limit ever since we left the fast food place, not to mention Kansas. At the rate you're going we'll have crashed and died before we can get back to the motel and you'll never even get to see..." Perhaps wisely, he decided against finishing his sentence.

Dean didn't reply, didn't even give any indication that he'd heard his brother speak at all, but Sam watched in trepidation as the speed dial went up another notch.

Time for him to try again. "Will you at least talk to me?"

"Sure thing, bro. Let's talk. What do you wanna talk about, Sammy? Come on, we'll talk about anything you want, bud. Anything at all." Dean's sentences were coming out far too fast and manic, and he still hadn't taken his eyes off the road for a single second. Normally Sam would be the first to encourage safe driving, but he wished his brother would look at him, just once. He was seriously starting to worry about the state of Dean's mental health.

"Okay, let's start with the fact that a couple of days ago you told Buffy that you wouldn't be coming back for her and Faith and now that Missouri has told you she might not be there you're acting like a crazy person and breaking about thirty three laws to speed your butt back to her." He was treading on dangerous grounds here, he knew that. But he had to know. He'd kept silent on the issue for a real long time – longer than any normal person could have hope to achieve – and now he was ready for some answers.

Dean's jaw tightened. "Next question."

"Fine. Was Missouri talking about Buffy when she said that there was a girl always on your-"

"Question time over. I don't think I wanna talk any more."

Sam sighed in frustration. "Dean, I really think we need to talk about this."

"About what?"

"You know what! About Buf-"

"Shut your cake hole, Sam! We're not talking about this! Conversation over, okay?" It was really more of a statement than a question, and there was such a fierce anger in Dean's eyes that for once, Sam didn't dare to try and argue.

Instead, he sat back in his seat, determined in his own mind that this would definitely be a topic he would notbe dropping.

It wasn't much long later that they finally drove into town, and Sam noted with relief that Dean actually slowed the car down. Perhaps he realized that getting pulled over by the cops probably wouldn't get him back to the motel any faster.

About five minutes away from said motel, Dean spied a small, blonde woman strolling down the street, and with a happy jolt through his entire body, he recognized her as Buffy.

"Holy crap!" Sam yelped as Dean haphazardly yanked the steering wheel over so that he could park up next to her, causing his younger brother to fly into his window, despite the use of his seat-belt.

Ignoring Sam's uncharacteristic curses, Dean jumped out of the car as soon as it had stopped and ran to where a surprised Buffy was now standing.

"Dean!" she cried. "What the hell was that? You could've crashed! You could've gotten killed! Do you know how dangerous that was?"

He had no answer to her rambles, and he really didn't think she expected one either. But for a long moment, he stood directly in front of her and stared, taking in every inch of her with greedy, devouring eyes. More than anything in the world did he want to pull her into his arms and never let her go, feel her body against his, smell her Buffy smell, touch her soft skin.

But he couldn't, because he was too freakin' chicken.

So instead of all the things he wanted to do, he settled for lifting up a shaking hand and resting it on her shoulder. He squeezed so tightly that if she had been anyone but the slayer, it probably would have cracked.

"You didn't leave," he said finally, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Buffy looked confused at his observation. "Why would I leave? Just 'cause you can be a big chump sometimes doesn't mean I'm gonna bail on you."

Dean grinned at her admission. In fact, he grinned so wide that he thought his mouth was going to split right open there and then but honestly, he didn't even care. Because he was finally here. And so was she. And if that didn't make him the happiest man alive, then it certainly made him the most relieved.

And then he got it. Missouri had played him, good and proper.

'You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room but I can't just pull facts out of thin air.'

Those were her words, her exact words. She couldn't have known that Buffy was going to leave, not unless she had been reading her mind. And Buffy had been much too far away for that, if what Missouri had told him was true.

No, Missouri had been playing on Dean's own insecurities. She'd known that he was worried that Buffy might have upped and left for home while he was away and she had used it against him to make him realize what a giant ass he had been.

And he had. He knew now why Buffy had chosen not to accompany them to Kansas. She must have known about his mom. She was right when she'd said that this mission was something he and Sam had to do by themselves.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Buffy stopped him midway by holding up her hand. "No need," she said knowingly, her eyes soft and kind.

Dean smiled again, and let his own hand drop down to his side. He looked down to the ground, uncharacteristically shy for the first time in...ever. "Do you uh...do you want a ride back to the motel? We're headed that way."

"Nah," replied Buffy, shaking her head. "I was just on my way to the diner to grab something to eat. Faith and I have been living on sugary snacks for the past couple of days without Sam here to encourage us to eat properly. I need some real food before I turn into a big, gooey pile of sugary mess."

Without looking away from Buffy for a single second, Dean shouted his brother's name.

Sam, who had climbed out of the car minutes before so that he could watch their interaction, waved a hand in greeting. "Hey Buffy."

"Hey Sammy." Her eyes only strayed away from Dean's for one short moment.

"Catch," Dean called, throwing the keys to the Impala in Sam's direction. "Do me a favor and take her back to the motel, would ya?"

Sam looked down at the keys in his hand and back at his brother in confusion. "You want me to drive your car?"

"Sure."

"And you're not coming?"

"No. I'm gonna go grab something to eat with Buffy."

"But we only just ate. Even you can't be hungry agai-"

"Stop your whining you little bitch. Just take the damn car back already."

Holding up his hands in defeat, Sam did exactly as he was told and climbed back into the car, muttering obscenities about his cranky brother as he did so. Dean and Buffy didn't say another words until the sound of the Impala's engine had completely disappeared.

"So, you're eating with me then?" Buffy questioned finally, an amused looking smirk set firmly on her face.

"You know me, I can never say no to a cheeseburger." He smiled cheekily. "Especially if you're buying."

As he and Buffy stood outside of the all night diner, Dean couldn't help grimacing at the neon pink decorations through the window. "Delicious," he mumbled sarcastically.

Buffy rolled her eyes at his tone of voice and grabbed a hold of his arm to pull him inside. "Don't be such a baby. We'll get the food to go."

"You're such a freak," Dean observed, watching Buffy in amusement as they strolled slowly back in the direction of the motel.

Buffy glanced up from her food. "Why?"

He looked down at her ketchup covered donuts pointedly. "I don't think that counts as proper food."

"Slayer appetite," Buffy reasoned with a shrug. "Besides, I had a salad first."

It wasn't long later that they reached the motel, and as they walked down the platform towards their adjoining rooms, there was a definite hesitance within both of their steps.

"We should go inside," Dean voiced once they reached their destination, though his tone of voice said otherwise.

Buffy nodded, and the two stood in silence for a long moment, neither making any movements towards the door of the motel room.

Eventually, Dean let out a little puff of air, turning around and sitting on the low steps of the platform. At Buffy's questioning look, he shrugged and explained, "Don't feel like going in just yet."

Letting out a little smile, Buffy nodded and sat down next to him.

They sat together in silence for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts as they gazed up at the almost full moon.

"Did you know?" Dean asked eventually. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question, but he needed to be sure. "Did you know what was going to happen? With my mom? Did you know she'd be there?"

Buffy dropped her head to stare down at her boots. "Yes," she replied simply. "I had a dream. A...slayer dream, you know? I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I just thought that if Faith and I were there...it was just something you an Sam had to figure out by yourselves."

Dean nodded. "I know." He paused for a moment, considering his next words. For a moment, he contemplated not saying them at all. But Buffy had been honest with him, and he owed her just as much. "Sometimes I think you know me better than anybody in the whole world. Better than Sam. Better than my dad. Better than myself, even."

Buffy looked at him, surprise evident in her eyes at his admission. She didn't know how to respond, how to tell him how good his words made her feel inside. Nothing she could say could match the depth of his words, so in the end, she settled for saying nothing at all.

They stayed there, in that very same position, right up until night began to fade and the sky began to lighten. And both of them were happy.