Title: Moonlight Meetings

Summary: AU fic - season one of SPN has happened until "Dead Man's Blood", but Sam & Dean, and John have separated. Seasons one til 3 of Buffy have happened, and Angel has been gone for about 6 months. Season 4 hasn't taken place other than Buffy & Willow being at university, and Xander living in his parent's basement.

Dean and Sam are sent to Sunnydale, but they don't know why. Buffy has her own problems to deal with, and doesn't take lightly to two rogue demon hunters turning up on her turf. Eventually DeanBuffy & SamFaith

Disclaimer: Nope, I own the 1st season on DVD, I did own a Winchester shotgun (Man, I didn't want to sell it, but life goes on…), but not the Winchester boys… I can pray though!

The lights flickered as the beeps sounded irregular again. Dr. Jackson stood with his clipboard in hand, waiting to see if there would be another flash of brain activity. If it happened it would be the third within 24 hours. That in itself was nothing short of a miracle, for a girl they'd almost pronounced brain dead several months earlier. Only a sizeable donation which Jackson had managed to trace back to the past Mayor's office, had been the incentive to keep her on life support.

Instead of the machines going haywire however, they continued to beep in the irregularly, irregular for a coma patient at least. Jackson frowned moving closer to the girl. He checked her vitals again, realising that the small sound coming from her throat was the sound of her choking on the tube, the one they'd replaced after her last bout of mental activity. He quickly removed it before turning back to the girl.

He leaned closer, close enough to make sure there was no doubt that she was coming to, when a hand suddenly grabbed him by the throat. He glanced up only to find the girl looking at him. Her eyes were cold he noticed, not 'without feeling' cold, but as though she knew what she was doing. She tightened her already strong grip as his eyes began to cloud. At least, he thought feebly, he wasn't one of the younger doctors who had a family.

Faith kept her hold until she was sure the doctor, she assumed he was a doctor since from the bare look of the room, and the presence of the machines, that she was in a hospital, was unconscious. She figured he probably would have ended up dying someday anyway. She'd always hated hospitals; doctors sticking her with needles, looking at her with pity in their eyes. She didn't need, or want, their pity. Glancing around she noticed the drip still in her arm, that at the very least had to go. But she figured it was best to wait til she was standing, since the machine would flat line as soon as she pulled it out.

She climbed out of the bed slowly, making sure she was steady before letting go of the side railing. She reached down and pulled the doctor's white jacked off, along with his stethoscope; she took a breath, and bit the tip of her lip before jerking roughly on the drip. The needle came out of her arm with little resistance, and she grimaced against the sting. She donned the white jacket, looping the stethoscope around her neck, just to give a little disguise before taking off out of the room.

There weren't so many places to go to in this town, she thought numbly. She couldn't even remember her full name. She only knew her first name was Faith because she'd glanced at the folder the doctor had been holding when he fell. Her surname had been hidden under his arm and she'd been in too much of a rush to get out of there to look. How she remembered the town though, she didn't know and wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She knew one thing for certain though. She needed to get out of the hospital gown she was wearing, lose the white jacket then find somewhere to stay. There wasn't much she could remember, but there was a face burned into her memory. A dark blonde girl no taller than herself, she was fairly sure the blonde girl was the reason Faith was in the situation she was in.

Thankfully, it was dark, and the shop fronts were quiet. Not for long though, as a window shattered, breaking the silence of the early morning. When Faith emerged from the shop, automatically looking for any sign of the cops, she was wearing something much more comfortable. Black slacks, sitting low on her hips, a red tank top, a tight-fitting black leather jacket to top it off. She'd grabbed a pair black boots, thankful they were the right size, and ran out the back door just as the cops pulled up out the front.

Faith ran. She kept stealing glances over her shoulder to see if she was being followed, so it was for that, pretty much for that, reason she didn't see the guy til she barrelled him over.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed as he started climbing to his feet, rubbing his backside where it'd connected with the pavement. "Why the hurry?" As police sirens sounded close by and Faith attempted climb to her feet too quickly, he knew he had his answer. "I'm not gonna ask," he said softly, mostly to himself.

"I wouldn't answer anyway," spoke up Faith.

As the cops turned the corner, Faith knew they'd catch her if she ran. Instead she grabbed the guy by his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. It was a bit hard to do that since he was so tall she had to pull his head down to hers, yet even then she was still standing on tiptoe. The guy seemed shocked for a moment, but even Faith had to admit that it wasn't everyday a girl grabbed a stranger on the street and kissed him. The police car slowed down as it passed them, but didn't stop. They were looking for a runner… Not a couple making out.

As soon as the car had disappeared around the corner, Faith pushed the guy away from her and went to run off.

"Hey!" The Guy said quickly, grabbing her arm. "If they're after you won't they notice if they see you by yourself now? Where you going, anyway?"

Faith glanced in the direction that the police car had gone. He did have a point. "I'm… I don't actually know," Faith admitted. "I don't have anywhere to crash." The Guy looked thoughtful for a moment.

"My brother's already gonna kill me for leaving when he was asleep, so why not give him another reason? You can crash at our place. There's a spare room and don't worry, we aren't like murderers or anything."

Faith nodded. She didn't know the guy from a bar of soap, but he was cute, and he seemed nice enough. Besides, she knew she could take care of herself if it turned out that her gut instinct was wrong. "Right…" she said after a moment. "But how do you know that I'm not?"

The Guy laughed. "Well, I'd say that you don't look the type, but I've seen too much crazy shit to believe that." Faith forced a laugh, thinking of the doctor at the hospital.

"Fair enough," She said, trying to hold a grin in place. "I'm Faith." The Guy held out a hand. "I'm Sam."

The cemetery was dark, but Dean walked through it as though this wasn't a crazy-assed town where there seemed to be more demons than he'd thought still existed. He wasn't carrying any weapons (strange as that was for someone who slept with a knife under his pillow), nor was he worried about anything sneaking around in the dark around him. Something didn't sit right about that, but a dream is a dream. It would be a better dream if his subconscious brought a couple of girls into it, but he'd take what he got for now. Besides, there was still time.

The further he walked, the darker it seemed to get, until he was standing at the foot of what looked to be a small pyramid (well, as small as a 20-storey building, but still small compared to full size ones). A little figure sat on the steps, about four storey's up. Dean stopped, trying to get a better look at the figure, but it seemed blurry, out of focus.

Dean turned around trying to see it out of the corner of his eye, even though he had a bad feeling about turning his back on the pyramid. It worked though, sort of. He could see it was a little creature, probably about half of his own height. The main difference was it was wiry, as though it had been on a major health-kick and work out binge. He… It, was covered in a pale brown fur, though it stuck up in a slightly darker mohawk across its head. Pointed teeth, which reminded him of shark's teeth, flashed in the moonlight.

He blinked and when he opened his eyes the creature was suddenly standing on the steps right in front of him. Dean thought he could see a tail flashing behind the creature's head, but when he looked again, there was nothing. "You are the Favourite, I think." The creature spoke. Its voice was raspy, as though its mouth hadn't been meant for human words.

Dean was understandably confused. He hated it when dreams of Angelina Jolie were interrupted by nightmares. "Favourite? Favourite of what? Or who?"

The creature laughed, and leaned forwards. "Tlaloc will be most pleased when you help him. You see. But I needs must take a sacrifice."

Dean suddenly had a fleeting thought of the 'sacrifices' he'd mentioned in the class he taught. "Dude, you are so not going anywhere below the belt!" he said, covering himself with his hands protectively.

The creature laughed. "Tlaloc is not Quetzalcoatl, so no worry. Just need your hand!"

Dean held his hand out to the creature cheerfully. How bad could it be? There was a funny feeling in the back of his head, but he tried to ignore it. It was the same voice that often told him, in the middle of doing something, that it wasn't the best idea. Come to think of it, the little creature was kinda cute… Until it took Dean's hand, anyway.

The face seemed to change, its mouth opened wide, wider than it should have been able to open. Suddenly Dean remembered what his job was - hunting stuff like this. As the creature took his right hand, Dean made a fist with his left and smashed it down on the creature's head. With a startled yelp it let go, giving Dean time to turn and run. The creature was fast though; Dean felt sharp claws digging into his back before he'd gone ten steps. He lost his footing, and saw the ground rush up to meet him. He steeled himself for the landing, just as he felt teeth sink into the back of his neck.

Dean Winchester sat up in a panic, startled to find he was in his bed. His back and neck ached like no other motel bed before though, so he reached a hand behind his head. Wincing, he touched the tender area before bringing his hand back in front of his face. I'm blind! He suddenly thought, before sheepishly realising the light wasn't turned on.

Suppressing a groan, he climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom. His head was killing him, and the pain in his neck was getting worse (if that was even possible). He switched the light on and looked in the mirror. His head felt as though someone had clouted him with a brick, but that was nothing compared to the pain in his neck and back.

He turned the tap on noticing the blood on his hand. He looked in the mirror, but couldn't see where he was bleeding. It was then that he looked down at the floor, realising there was blood dripping onto the tiles. He turned around slowly, discovering why his back was so sore. His back had been ripped in a pattern that almost suggested talons had been raked down it. The cuts were no longer bleeding, thankfully. But his back wasn't the worst. At the back of his neck, just to the right hand side, a massive gash was still bleeding profusely. Perhaps, thought Dean, it might be time to wake up Sammy.

He made it as far as the bathroom door before collapsing with a thud.

A/N: Ok... I've lost one beta/co-writer, and gained another... check out her stuff at ambiguous-opal . livejournal . com just remember to take the spaces out!