A/N: A Few things this time.

I realize there was a scene in Like A Virgin where Dean says (in front of a newly-souled Sam): "Door to Purgatory. Well, I know a demon who would have loved to have known about that." This statement makes it quite conceivable that souled-Sam was told all about Crowley's plot to find Purgatory, however, in my world Dean never made this statement. Strike it from the record. Sam is completely clueless about Crowley/Purgatory for the purposes of this story.

The second divided section of this chapter is pure, unadulterated smut. If you don't like that sort of thing, you can skip that section without missing any major plot points. Otherwise, consider yourself duly warned. I've given up on maintaining separate versions. I'm a lazy, lazy person.

The chapter title (Stormy Monday) is an Allman Brother's Band cover of an old T-Bone Walker blues song. It appears on their live album 'At Filmore East' (1971).

Enough babbling. On to the story. Thanks to my beta reader isugirl!

XXXXXXXXX

Chapter 8 – Stormy Monday

The silver lining Buffy had wished for, unfortunately, did not materialize. She'd hoped her sister's boyfriend would be so wigged-out by the dragon incident that he'd run screaming from Cleveland never to be seen again. But no, he thought it was the coolest thing ever. 'That guy' couldn't stop asking questions about Slayers and Hellmouths and all the requisite madness that goes along with those things. The only time he took a break from his newfound enthusiasm was when he sensed that another male had gotten within a mile of Dawn. When that happened, at least he'd shut his stupid mouth for a minute, but only because he was too busy sulking and glaring.

Buffy had decided 'that guy' didn't deserve an actual name. Honestly, she was beginning to think that two syllables were too generous. Maybe she'd just call him 'guy' or even just 'guh'. As far as she knew, he hadn't done anything horrible, but her instinct told her that he had the potential to be a controlling and jealous nutjob. She couldn't believe her sister didn't see this, but in all fairness, ole' guh did have some serious talent when it came to hiding his true colors. If he knew Dawn was looking, he'd immediately fall back into his pleasant and polite act. It was sickening and to make matters worse, they'd left for Tennessee before Buffy had the opportunity to talk to her sister about her concerns. The freak just wouldn't let Dawn out of his sight long enough for anyone to have a private conversation with her. Now Buffy would have to catch her on the phone, a conversation that would inevitably end with her sister screeching in her ear and then hanging up on her. She was really looking forward to it.

Buffy was taking a second night off in order to recuperate from her dragony free-fall. She was pretty sore when she woke up on Sunday morning, but she could've patrolled by the time night rolled around. She'd stayed in, however, because her sister and Dean had both been adamant about it. Dawn had been extremely shaken after witnessing her fall. The sight had brought up a lot of bad memories that neither of them cared to revisit. So, before she left, she'd made Buffy promise that she'd take it easy for one more night.

She stayed true to her word and stayed in for the evening. It was actually a nice break. Willow had come over to hang and they'd watched a movie and eaten a nutritious dinner of Chinese take-out with a side of brownies. After Will had gone home, Buffy fell asleep on the couch with the TV on as she waited for Dean to get in. He'd gone out patrolling with Sam since she'd had someone to keep her company. She also strongly suspected that he'd rather not watch The Black Swan or listen to a bunch of girl-talk all night.

It was around three in the morning when she was awakened by a strong skunky smell, the source of which was apparently her boyfriend. In her sleepy daze, she was able to make out something about him needing a shower and a string of various curse words. She wasn't worried though, because judging from the way he was taking the stairs two at a time, he wasn't hurt. In record time, she heard the shower running along with the occasional curse that the sound of the water couldn't manage to drown out. She considered going upstairs and crawling into bed, but she was just way too comfy where she was. It had been a while since she'd had some down time and her body seemed to be enjoying it

XXXXXXXXXX

Buffy must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing she knew, the TV had been switched off and Dean was squatting down on the floor in front of the couch, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Hey lazy ass," he said softly.

"Hi sweetie," she replied with a yawn and a smile. "What happened? I noticed you were kinda stinky when you got in."

Dean groaned. "We ran into some ugly bastard that likes to gleek this nasty-ass goo all over people. Have you ever tangled with that one?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," she mumbled sleepily. "Guess I've never had the pleasure."

"Well, too late now. Don't think he's in the meet 'n greet mood anymore. Didn't seem to take it too well when I chopped off his head."

"Shoot," Buffy replied with a fake pout, "he sounded fun."

"Yeah, he was a friggin riot. How's the ankle?" he asked, immediately switching to a concerned tone. "Think you can handle the stairs?"

Buffy's ankle was fine, but she was way too lazy to climb all those stairs. She had a feeling that if she appeared even slightly pitiful, she could score a ride. So, instead of flat out lying, she settled for sticking out her bottom lip and turning big round eyes on Dean. It worked like a charm. He teased her about being useless, but immediately scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom. She looped her arms around his neck and happily nuzzled her nose against his bare chest.

"You smell good," she observed. "Very soapy."

"I should, cuz I used an entire bar. You know that scrubby thing you've got?"

"My loofah?"

"I guess," he replied. "Whatever it is, you'll have to burn it."

Buffy let out an evil giggle. "Wait till Sam hears about you using my girlie bath products."

"I'll smother you in your sleep," he threatened as he deposited her gently on the mattress.

Before he could walk around to his side of the bed, she grabbed one of his hands and ran his fingertips slowly across her lips, sucking and biting each of them lightly. "Thank you," she said sweetly.

Buffy smiled coyly when she noticed the lost and pitiful expression Dean was wearing. He was so adorable, kinda like a scolded puppy. She couldn't help herself, she had to tease him some more. She slowly wiggled out of the sweats she was wearing and kicked them onto the floor, before just as slowly ditching her t-shirt and bra.

"This is more comfy," she said innocently as she stretched and posed. "Guess it's sleepy time now," she announced with a huge fake yawn. "Good night, sweetie."

Dean gulped audibly and remained frozen as he stood by the bed. His gaze was laser-focused on her tiny, silky, black panties. He appeared to be hoping that they would remove themselves if he concentrated hard enough. Buffy smiled in triumph when she noted how large his erection was. He was always impressive in that department, but this time she was pretty sure he'd broken a few records. After all, it had been a few days. Friday night, he'd been drunk, passed-out guy and Saturday night she'd played the part of broken ribs, broken ankle, concussion girl. Seeing as how it was now officially Monday morning, she was more than ready to end this unplanned celibacy streak they had going. She always wanted him, but ever since Xander's wedding she'd been practically in heat. It was way past time to close the deal.

With that idea in mind, she reached out and gripped him tightly through his boxers. "Happy to see me?" she asked as she blew him a kiss and licked her lips.

Dean closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat. "God baby, that's just cold hearted. Now I'm gonna have to go make a withdrawal from the spank bank. I'll never get to sleep in this condition." He then started to turn, clearly intent on heading to the bathroom and taking care of his 'transaction'.

"Dean!" Buffy gasped, partly in amusement and partly in shock. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down into a sitting positing on the bed. "Are you serious?" she asked with a blush.

"Hell yeah, I'm serious," he replied with a devilish grin. "Sometimes you just hafta whack it," he added with a waggle of his brows. Dean loved to make Buffy squirm. It was just way too easy and she was way too cute when she blushed. The lady wasn't a prude in the sack by any stretch of the imagination, but she was kinda shy about certain things. Tormenting her took so little effort and was so, so very satisfying. He'd never expected that his naturally crude tendencies would pay off so well.

"Wouldn't you prefer something a little more interactive?" she suggested.

"You wanna watch?" he teased. Then, just to aggravate her further, he held up a hand and demonstrated the world famous 'tossing-off' hand gesture.

She smacked at his hand. "Stop doing that! No, I don't wanna watch," she huffed in embarrassed frustration. "I was hoping to be a little more involved. You know, physically?"

"Sweetheart, you almost died not even two days ago," he remarked seriously. "You got five broken bones in that fall. I may be one seriously horny son-of-a-bitch right now, but I still have a few standards. You can't even walk up the steps!"

"I can walk up the steps just fine," she replied with a guilty smile. "I just didn't want to."

"You played me?"

Buffy nodded. "Yep, like a fiddle, a very hot fiddle… and I'm so not sorry," she added with a gloating smile.

Dean regarded her skeptically for a moment. He desperately wanted to pounce on her like a starved animal, but he had to be sure she was really okay first. "Are you sure?" he finally asked. "I know you have those freaky super-healing powers, but damn."

"I promise," she assured him. "Add my Slayer powers to Willow's yummy, healing herbal tea and voila – you get 100% grade A Buffy. I'll even do a couple of flippy back handsprings if it'll make you happy."

"Naked?" he asked hopefully.

Buffy reached out and ripped Dean's boxers off in one swift motion. Kneeling on the bed, she took him into her mouth and swirled her tongue around as she used one hand to pump his shaft. After a minute or two, she sat back on her heels and answered his question. "I will if you're nice and give me what I want," she promised seductively.

Dean was no longer sure what he'd even asked for, but he was still more than willing to go along for the ride. Buffy could ask him to jump off the nearest tall building at this point and he wouldn't be able to argue. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd do it with a big, shit-eating grin on his face. "What do you want?" he asked huskily.

Buffy smiled, peeled off her panties, and tossed them unceremoniously to the floor. She then pressed herself closely against his side and began alternating between licking and biting at the nape of his neck.

"I want you," she replied between nibbles. "Now and hard… very hard," she emphasized with a more forceful bite. "I don't have time for foreplay."

With a guttural moan, Dean quickly slid his feet back onto the floor. He grabbed Buffy by the waist and pulled her toward the edge of the bed. When he attempted to position himself between her thighs, she sat up and put a hand against the middle of his chest to halt his progress. She winked in answer to his expression of disappointment and then rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her knees so that he could enter her from behind. This was one of her favorite positions, because it allowed her to take in every inch of him and gave him plenty of leverage for thrusting.

Dean took a deep breath and willed himself to start out slowly. However, the moment he began to enter her, he realized that she hadn't been lying about not needing any foreplay. She was ready - more than ready - and that fact seriously inflated his ego. He slid in easily and completely. It was all the encouragement he needed in order to grant her wish for a serious hardcore pounding. He gripped her hips tightly and slammed himself into her again and again. Buffy immediately clenched her muscles tightly around him, something that always turned him into a mindless, drooling sex slave. Being inside of her felt so amazing, he simply had no words for it. It would be impossible for another woman to ever come close to her in any way.

He poured all of his energy and frustrations into the act. The crippling fear he'd felt when he thought he'd lost her, the unfamiliar and intense emotions that overtook him each time he held her – he put all of it into the moment. He couldn't remember ever having gone at it so hard before, but with each cry of pleasure and breathless word of encouragement, he lost more and more of his self-control until there was nothing left but the raw need to possess her over and over again. Finally, when he didn't believe he could hold off for much longer, he reached beneath her and caressed her most sensitive spot until she became completely undone. The idea that he could give her so much pleasure filled him with an emotion that was indescribable. Buffy was the most beautiful, most incredible woman he'd ever met, and she was his. That thought alone was enough to push him over the edge. He pulled out just as he felt her body relax and it wasn't a moment too soon. Dean was definitely a gambling man, but this time he'd cut it really close. He knew he should be more careful, but being with Buffy tended to take away his ability to think rationally.

Once he was able to draw a somewhat steady breath and was reasonably sure that his heart wasn't going to explode, he flopped back onto the mattress and folded a very relaxed and sleepy Buffy into his arms. By this time, the sun was beginning to rise and light was filtering in through the blinds. He briefly considered getting up and pulling the curtains closed, but decided he was too content and satisfied to make the effort.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean awoke with a start from his least favorite and most frequent nightmare. Thankfully, since he'd been in Cleveland, it only happened one or two times a week (instead of every single freaking night). He glanced at the clock and noticed that he'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep. He rolled over with the intention of seeking some comfort in Buffy's presence. Often, if he took her in his arms, pulled her against him, and breathed in the lightly perfumed scent of her hair, he could manage to calm down and sometimes even get back to sleep. He was whipped in the most hardcore chick-flick sense of the word.

His plan was shot when he realized that Buffy was already awake. She was sitting propped up against her pillows holding her dream journal in front of her. The line between her brows made it obvious that she knew he'd been having a nightmare. He just hoped that he hadn't been whimpering or anything lame like that.

"You had another bad dream," she stated as she gazed at him searchingly. He could see an enormous amount of sympathy reflected in her eyes, sympathy he didn't deserve.

Dean looked away and forced a smirk onto his features. "Hazard of the job," he shrugged. "We see a lot of spooky stuff, you know." He hoped she wouldn't push him for details, because he would never spill the contents of that dream to anyone – especially not her. He'd make something up if he had to.

"Speaking of freaky nightmares," he said quickly, pointing to the journal in her hand. "Please tell me you didn't have any more naked Wheel of Fortune dreams. I may be twice Sajak's size, but I've still got no problem sticking my foot up his scrawny little ass. Vanna's too, if she gets in my way."

Buffy smiled sadly at his attempt to change the subject, but she went along. The expression on his face during and after those nightmares nearly broke her heart. Hopefully some day soon he'd finally open up.

"You can relax," she said. "I didn't buy any vowels this time. Plus, I'm pretty sure that was just the regular, non-prophecy kind of freaky dream. Slayer dreams aren't normally quite that gross and disturbing."

"Glad to hear it," he replied as he sat up and peered over her shoulder, "but just in case, I better check and make sure I don't need to add any more quasi-celebrities to the Winchester hit list."

"Don't bother getting out your pen," she said as she placed two stars by her most recent entry and held it up closer so that Dean could actually read it. "I only had genuine, non-sexy Slayer dreams this time. At least I think there was no sexy," she added thoughtfully.

Dean felt his stomach lurch when he read the three words Buffy had written on the page.

** creepy black eyes

"What are the stars for?" he asked in a carefully controlled tone.

Buffy gazed at him curiously while she answered. "One of the girls mentioned that she'd dreamed about black eyes too, plus I have a really wiggy feeling about this one. That's usually a pretty good indicator."

"What else?" Dean asked urgently as he gripped her shoulder tightly. "Who had black eyes? Did you know them?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly, her features taking on a concerned expression. "I can't remember any details. That's the reason I'm keeping a journal in the first place."

Dean released his hold on her, rose from the bed, and immediately began rifling through the dresser drawer he used for his clothes. He quickly pulled on the first things he grabbed and then sat down on the edge of the bed and began lacing up his boots.

"Dean," Buffy said firmly, trying to draw his attention back to her. "What's going on? You need to come back to bed. You've hardly slept at all."

"I don't have time," he answered impatiently as he tugged at his laces. "I need to go talk to Sam. We have to get on this now."

"Slow down," she said calmly. "Please talk to me. Tell me what has you so upset. What exactly do we need to get on?"

Dean began to pace the room in obvious agitation. "Demons have black eyes," he ground out.

"What kind of demons?" she asked patiently.

"Demon demons," he stressed urgently. "The ones that crawl out of hell."

Buffy's mind immediately flashed on Dean's tattoo. "You mean the possessing people kind?"

"Yes," he confirmed tightly. "Fucking black-eyed sons of bitches," he growled as he threw a punch that broke through the drywall. Judging from the solid thud, he'd managed to hit a stud.

Buffy jumped up and quickly caught him by the wrist before he could follow through with a second punch. "Calm down," she ordered slowly and evenly. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Dean looked curiously at the scraped and bleeding skin on his knuckles and at the large hole in the bedroom wall, as if he'd just registered what he'd done.

"I'm sorry," he said with shame in his eyes. "I'll fix it."

"Don't worry about the wall right now," she said gently. "Please, just tell me why you're so sure that we're dealing with that type of demon. Lots of evil things have black eyes," she explained calmly. "I've seen them."

Dean started pacing the room again, running his hands through his hair in agitation. "Crowley," he finally said.

"Who's Crowley?"

"A demon… real high up on the food chain. Used to call himself the 'King of Hell'. Dude had a serious hard-on for Purgatory."

Buffy was speechless, she stared at Dean with her mouth hanging open. "Why didn't you tell me this?" she finally asked in astonishment. "We've spent all this time trying to make sure that the door to Purgatory stays shut and all along you've known that some demon was trying to pick the lock?"

"He's dead," he replied in a faraway tone, obviously wrapped up in his own thoughts. After a few moments of silence, he added, "I saw it with my own eyes. Cas roasted him. He's gone."

Buffy closed her eyes and tried to gain control of the hurt and rage that was overtaking her. When she spoke, her tone was even but filled with a clear undercurrent of anger. "Who cares if he's dead? Didn't it occur to you that if one of those demons is interested in Purgatory, there are probably others?"

"I-I don't know," he replied gruffly as he picked up his cell. "I just need to talk to Sam."

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam was sitting in the Council's break room, sipping coffee and surfing the net on his laptop when he looked up and saw Faith standing in the doorway. She was wearing a pair of tight, black leather pants, a tiny midriff bearing t-shirt, and a biker jacket. As usual, she looked smokin' hot. It really wasn't fair for her to walk around looking like that. She made it very difficult for a man to keep his mind on his job or anything else non-sex related for that matter.

"Hey Sam," she said a bit hesitantly. "What's up?"

Faith was a little surprised when he gave her one of those adorable, dimpled smiles. This was the first time she'd attempted to speak to him since the night she'd shoved him into a wall. She wasn't entirely sure how he'd react.

"Not much," Sam replied in a friendly tone. "Just trying to figure out what kind of monster Dean and I ran into last night."

Faith hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and rocked back and forth on her boot heels. She was trying to do the small talk thing, but it was proving to be a whole lot harder than she'd imagined. What was she supposed to say next? Her mind was blank. It was so much easier to just skip this crap and go straight to the good stuff. Of course, last time she'd tried that approach it had ended in spectacular and humiliating failure.

"So… uh… was it something nasty?" she finally asked.

"Oh man," Sam laughed, "nasty is definitely the right word. It was this freaky looking blue thing that had these venom sacs under its tongue. It could use them to shoot a giant ten-foot stream of this foul smelling crap. Dean got drenched," he added with chuckle. "Dude smelled seriously rank. It was hilarious. He refused to ride home in the Impala because of it. He ended up walking for miles."

"Damn, that sucks," Faith remarked, returning Sam's smile. She turned the chair beside him around and straddled it, resting her arms and chin on the seat back. At about this time, Sam's cell started ringing. He barely managed to take his eyes off of her long enough to see who was calling.

"Speak of the devil," he said as he hit 'ignore'. "He probably just wants to bitch some more," he remarked with a shrug as he returned his full attention to Faith.

"So, how'd ya kill it?" she asked with a little more confidence in her voice. She had to give props to B. The girl was right about 'slaying' being a good conversation starter.

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time they arrived at Council Headquarters, Buffy was ready to strangle Dean. He was behaving like a complete jerk. Sam hadn't answered his call, so he'd insisted that they immediately go and find him. He was so impatient that she'd barely managed to throw on some clothes and brush her teeth and hair. Then on the ride over he kept making snide comments about her driving and her 'plastic piece of crap' car. The only thing that kept her from breaking his nose was the fact that she was so wrapped up in her own feelings of hurt and confusion. She didn't understand why he would keep something like this a secret. What possible excuse could he have for keeping her in the dark about something that could be a matter of life and death? And why had he suddenly transformed into the world's biggest ass?

They met Willow in the hallway and judging from her uncomfortable expression, she could sense the tension in the air. In her typical manner, she began babbling to Buffy in a tone of forced cheer.

"Have you seen Sam?" Dean interrupted rudely.

"I think he's in the break room," Willow replied with a frown as she gave Buffy a questioning glance.

Buffy crinkled her brow and held up her palms in confusion after Dean had stalked ahead of them, intent on finding his brother.

"What the hell, Sam?" he snapped as he entered the break room. "Can't you answer a damn phone?"

"Good morning Dean," his brother smirked as he reluctantly turned away from his conversation with Faith. "Looks like your mood hasn't improved. You smell better though."

"We've got demons on the Hellmouth," he stated simply.

"No way," Faith replied sarcastically. "You better alert the media, dude. That's some pretty heavy news you've got there."

Dean didn't appear to even notice Faith or register her comments. He just stared intently at his brother, knowing he would understand.

"What happened?" Sam asked urgently. Naturally, he had immediately picked-up on what Dean was getting at and he could also sense that he was extremely on edge.

"The Slayer dreams," Buffy inserted coldly, "black eyes seem to be in fashion this season." She'd decided that she was also pretty damn pissed at Sam. If Dean knew about the demons, it was a sure bet that his brother did too. They were practically connected at the hip after all.

Faith sat up and flinched, rolling her shoulders in discomfort. "Eww," she said, "I can't really remember dreamin' about anything like that, but when you mentioned it… I seriously felt like somebody just walked over my grave."

Sam gazed at Faith with his brows drawn together. Apparently, something was up if this 'black eye' thing was setting off the Slayer-radar. This was definitely something that needed looking into.

"I can search for omens," he said, "but it might be kinda tough with all the paranormal activity around here. Sorta makes it hard to separate one evil omen from the next billion."

"Maybe I can do a spell," Willow offered helpfully. "If you can tell me what kind of demon we're looking for, I can probably zero in on its energy."

"That's a good idea," Sam agreed with a nod. "We'll get together and I'll fill you in."

"I want devil's traps at every entrance," Dean demanded before Willow had a chance to respond to his brother. "Salt all the windows and we have to get –"

"Stop giving orders," Buffy snapped at him. "You owe me an explanation for all of this. Willow has enough magic on this place to keep anything out… unless there's something else you aren't telling us," she added in accusing tone.

"Buffy, you're probably right," Sam interjected in his most reasonable voice, "I'm sure we're perfectly safe here, but I don't think it would hurt to take a few extra precautions." He then turned to address his obviously freaked-out brother. "Chill out man," he said evenly. "All we can do is ramp up our defenses and put out some feelers. Just let me get this straight though. Do we have any reason to think that these demons have anything to do with the Eve situation? Are they working together maybe?"

"I don't know," he growled. "Maybe? We need to find that bitch, Sam. We can't just sit here holding hands and talking about it. We have to do something."

"I realize that Dean," he replied in a voice that was thick with strained patience. "I'm just trying to get a handle on the situation."

Buffy looked back and forth between the two brothers. Either Sam was the world's best actor or he was just as much in the dark as she was. She was about to, once again, demand an explanation from Dean when Willow piped up.

"I think I might have a way to find Eve" she said. "It occurred to me in the shower this morning. Funny how that happens," she added with a nervous smile as she turned to address a scowling Dean. "Didn't you tell Buffy that worm-thing you brought us was one of Eve's children?" she asked.

"Yeah, but all the freaks are supposed to be her kids. That's why they call her mommy," he said with biting sarcasm.

Willow frowned at Dean's smart aleck remark. "What I was getting at," she continued firmly, "was what if this thing is first generation? I mean, most of the bad guys are probably hundreds, maybe even thousands of generations removed from Eve. If we had something that was first generation, I could probably use it to do a locator spell on mommy. It's kinda like the deal with mitochondrial DNA," she explained, ignoring Dean's narrowed eyes and skeptical expression. "Maybe one day, scientists will be able to link all humans back to one common female ancestor, but it's really hard to do because they have to work their way back through so many generations."

"You might be in luck then." Sam replied, sounding as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. "That thing did say it was something new."

"Then yay!" Willow exclaimed with an excited clap of her hands, "My spell has a shot."

"I don't think so," Dean interjected sourly. "I may not be a brain surgeon, but I know what an alpha is. Bigger fish than you have tried that route sister and they didn't come up with squat. I don't think rubbing your crystals over that thing or burning a bunch of nasty incense is gonna help."

Sam threw a warning glare at his brother. What the hell was wrong with him today? Dean had never trusted witches, but he could at least tone down the smart ass comments, seeing as how this witch happened to be Buffy's close personal friend.

"Dean," Buffy bit out, crossing her arms in front of her. "Stop being an ass! Will knows what she's doing. If she thinks she can work a location spell, then I say she can work a location spell."

"Thanks Buffy," Willow smiled happily. It was nice to know that her best friend would still take up for her, even if she did have a huge thing for big, jerk-face hunter guy.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "I just don't think we can afford to waste time on a bunch of wavy-gravy hoodoo."

"Hey!" Willow snapped. "I'm trying to help here Mister Smarty Pants. I'll have you know that my wavy-gravy hoodoo is usually pretty doggone reliable."

"Hold on a second," Sam interrupted. "There's something familiar about the term 'alpha'. Where have I heard that before?"

"Who cares?" Dean snapped. "It's not important."

"What aren't you telling me?" Sam asked. He could always tell when his brother was being evasive.

Dean noted how his younger brother (and everyone else) appeared to be eagerly expecting a reply. "Leave it Sam," he warned. "I said it wasn't important."

"Bullshit!" he spat back angrily. "Dude I know you and you're acting shady as hell. Buffy's right, you owe her an explanation. You owe all of us an explanation."

"Outside," his brother growled.

"Fine, lets go," Sam said as he rose to his feet. Buffy started to follow, but he held up his hand to stop her. "Just give me a few minutes alone with him first," he said under his breath.

XXXXXXXXX

"Spill it Dean," Sam demanded once they'd exited the building. "What aren't you telling me? What's the deal with the alphas?"

"There's no deal with the alphas, not anymore. I'm asking you to leave this alone, Sam. Why can't you just trust me?"

Instead of arguing further, Sam closed his eyes and began clutching at the sides of his head. This action caused Dean to cringe with worry. It was obvious that his brother was being hit with a powerful memory. Why the hell did he have to say the word 'alpha'?

"Crowley," Sam said after a few moments. "Crowley wanted the alphas… he thought they could lead him to Purgatory," he added in shocked astonishment. "My God Dean! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not important anymore! Crowley's dead. I told you about that already. Just please, drop this. I'm begging you. You know what happened the last time you started poking around in that head of yours."

"I actually worked for him," Sam stated in anger and disbelief. "Samuel and I hunted alphas for him and you didn't think I had a right to know?"

"You don't need to know about that. It wasn't you. These memories are dangerous," he stressed. "It's a two-for-one special, Sam. You can't get the soulless memories without getting the hell memories – and those will kill you! How many times do I have to go over that? This isn't a joke."

"Trust me, I'm not laughing," his brother replied coldly. "I swear Dean, one of these days…"

"Go ahead," Dean said as he held his hands out to his sides. "Take a swing. I won't even hit you back this time. Just don't expect me to apologize for trying to keep you alive."

"What about Buffy?" his brother asked accusingly. "Don't you think she deserved to know about this? This is bigger than me, Dean. She has a whole city to worry about."

"Sam…"

"Whatever," Sam said, cutting his brother off in disgust. "I'm done with this conversation, because if I hear one more lie from you… I am going to kick your ass."

Dean watched as his brother turned to walk away. "I need my keys," he said a bit hesitantly. "I wanna take a drive."

Sam reached into his pocket and tossed the Impala's keys over his shoulder without turning around.

Before Dean had a chance to ponder just how pissed his brother was, Buffy came storming through the door that Sam had just re-entered. She stepped close and glared up at him furiously.

"I'm tired of the cryptic-guy act," she snapped angrily. "Why didn't you tell me about the demons being after Purgatory? Why?"

"Buffy, I didn't know," he attempted to explain. "Crowley was dead, I thought that was over. I'm a stupid ass, okay?"

"Wrong answer," she replied through gritted teeth. "You can take a couple of missing church girls and a few robberies and know that we're dealing with a dragon. Now, you're going to stand there and tell me that this whole Purgatory/Linda Blair connection completely flew over your head? I'm not buying what you're selling, Dean. Not for one second. So, try again."

Dean didn't know what to tell her when he wasn't exactly sure of the reasons himself. He couldn't breath. He had to get away and think before somebody else came out here and started yelling at him, because he was dangerously close to saying or doing something he'd end up regretting.

"I need to take a drive," he said tightly as he turned to walk away. "We'll talk about this later."

"Dean! Don't you dare turn your back on me right now. You need to -"

"Just give me some Goddamned space!" he yelled as he spun back around to face her. "Jesus Christ, woman! Why don't you go back in there and bitch about me with Sam? Maybe that'll make you happy. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

Buffy stood silently and watched him turn to go again. She told herself that she wasn't going to chase after him and she sure as hell wasn't going to start crying. She knew she'd eventually lose that last battle, but she'd be damned if she'd let him see.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean drove for hours with no particular destination in mind. He just knew that he wanted to get out of the crowded city and far away from other people. He finally found himself in a small Ohio town where he saw signs pointing toward Wayne National Forest. You couldn't get much farther away from people than on a lonely forest access road, he decided. So, after stopping and buying a pint of cheap whiskey, he followed the signs until he found a dirt road that was marked 'No Trespassing: For Use by Forestry Personnel Only'. Screw 'em, he thought, they could take him to jail if they didn't like it.

He drove up the dirt road for several miles before stopping and killing the engine. He rolled down both of the front windows to let the crisp, fall air in and then proceeded to unscrew the top from his bottle of rotgut. After taking one large swig, he stopped and held the bottle up in front of him in disgust. "Pathetic," he remarked out loud. "Man, you really screwed the pooch this time" he added before taking another swallow.

After the first few hours on the road, he'd finally decided that he had a giant cowardly streak in him. It was apparently so large that it prevented him from seeing what was right in front of his face. He should've told Buffy about the demon connection. It wasn't like he had to spill all the details to Sam. He could've lied. He could've made something up that would've told her what she needed to know and still kept his brother in the dark. But he didn't, because he was a coward who couldn't face the possibility that his demon problems weren't over.

He hadn't seen a demon in months, not since Crowley had been roasted. Since then, he'd convinced himself that it was over. The world may be a huge freakin' mess chock full of fake-vampires and all sorts of other crazy shit, and the angels might be at war with one another, but hallelujah because the demons had finally left the building. He was done with all that; they weren't going to take anything else away from him. He had Sam back and now he had Buffy. His stupid ass had been happily living in the land of denial and those black-eyed bastards had probably been right under his nose the entire time. If it hadn't been for Buffy's dreams, she might not have found out in time. She could've been killed or one of her girls could've been hurt. Dean would never have forgiven himself. There was no way he could ever live with something like that.

How was he supposed to explain himself to Buffy? He didn't want her to know that he was such a giant chicken. It was unbearable to even think about how disgusted she'd be with him. What the hell was he going to tell her? Regardless, he had to fix this. He had to find some way to figure this latest demon mess out and make sure they didn't get to her or anyone she cared about. Simply put, he had to get back in the game, whether he was strong enough for it or not. There was no other choice.

He started to tip the bottle again, but forced himself to stop and screw the lid back on. It was time to man-up and quit trying to drink all his problems away. Still, he wished he had someone he could talk to about this situation. Sam was out because he was royally pissed at him right now. He considered calling Bobby, but the guy wasn't exactly the spokesperson for dealing. The man hid in a bottle more often than he did. Cas, he decided, he wanted to talk to Cas.

"Castiel," he called out. "It's Dean. I'd really appreciate it if you brought your ass down here for a few minutes. Please. I really need to talk to you."

Dean almost jumped out of his skin when Cas materialized in the seat beside him. Even if he was expecting him, his sudden appearances still freaked him out.

"Good to see you Dean," Castiel said in his usual monotone. "It's been a while. I've been busy," he added apologetically.

"I know," he replied. "It's cool."

"Are you butt-faced?" the angel asked with a glance to the bottle Dean was holding.

Dean let out a genuine laugh. "Dude, you're hilarious. It's 'shit-faced'," he corrected, "and no, I'm not, but I've been seriously considering it."

"Where's Sam?"

"In Cleveland. I'm just out for a scenic drive."

"Sam's on the Hellmouth?" Castiel asked with some surprise.

"Yeah, we've been working with the Slayers on this whole 'mommy' issue."

Cas looked agitated, but Dean put this down to him needing to get back to his war.

"Guess I better get down to it," he began. "I wanted to ask you if you knew who the current 'King of Hell' was?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"Because I'm thinking whoever replaced Crowley might be following in his footsteps. You know, jonesing for Purgatory?"

"That is unlikely," Castiel answered quickly. "Hell is in chaos now that Crowley is dead. They are too busy fighting amongst themselves to concern themselves with Purgatory."

"A civil war in hell too, huh? Good times."

"Why would you believe that demons are interested in Purgatory?" Castiel pressed.

"Buffy has these dreams," he replied. "She doesn't remember much. She thinks something's blocking them. That bitch Eve, I guess. Anyway, she's remembered one thing that points to demons – black eyes."

"So you know Buffy Summers?"

"Hell yeah I know her. Remember that time she sucker punched you? Damn, I figured angels had memories like elephants. Are you butt-faced Cas? Come on man, you can tell me. I won't judge."

"I meant do you know her in the biblical sense?" he replied impatiently.

"Oh yeah," Dean agreed with a dreamy grin. "Wait a minute," he added, suddenly serious. "That's kinda personal. Why do you wanna know about that?"

"I'm only curious," the angel replied.

"Well watch some porn, cause you're not getting any details out of me."

Castiel stared blankly into space for a few moments. Dean hated it when he did that. Dude didn't even blink, it wasn't natural.

"I'm sorry, but I need to be going soon," he said finally. "I can assure you that you don't need to be concerned with demons on the Hellmouth. The Hellmouth is not an opening to the hell you are familiar with. It is simply a place where the dimensional walls are thin. It is capable of opening a portal to many hellish worlds, but none of those are the theological plane you know as 'hell'. Demons normally prefer to stay away from the Hellmouth. Ironically, they find the chaos distracting. Their concern lies with corrupting human souls, not with vampires and legions of monsters from other dimensions. You must understand Dean, Slayer dreams are not literal. They are simply metaphors… symbolic representations of certain dangers. If a Slayer dreams about black eyes, it could mean many different things."

"Really?" Dean asked with a deep sigh of relief. "Damn Cas, I could almost kiss you right now. Thank you," he emphasized. "If you hadn't shown up, I'd probably be passed-out drunk and pissin' my pants about now."

"You're welcome," he replied quietly without meeting Dean's gaze.

Dean noticed that Cas appeared to be feeling guilty, so he hurried to reassure him.

"Listen Cas, I understand that you can't always drop everything and show up right when I call. I know I've been a dick about that in the past. I've realized that I seem to have an issue with that… especially today. But I want you to know that it's cool. I appreciate that you're ass-deep in a giant, steamy pile of crap these days. But trust me man, you don't even know how much you just helped me out right now. You don't even know."

"Thank you, Dean. I do appreciate your understanding. Things have been extremely difficult lately. I wish that I was able to explain." He paused for a moment and then added, "You don't need to worry. I am certain that there are no demons on the Hellmouth, but I assure you that I will look into this further. If I find any cause for concern, I'll let you know."

Before Dean had a chance to thank him again, the angel was gone. "Later Cas," he called out with a smile and a fond shake of his head. He then chucked the mostly full bottle of craptastic whiskey out of the car window and cranked up the engine. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but he knew he wouldn't feel right again until he found Buffy and told her how sorry he was for being such a giant douche. He couldn't believe he'd actually yelled at her like that. She should've knocked his teeth out. He felt like the world's sorriest bastard and he needed to go face the music. He was afraid this was going to be one hell of an uncomfortable conversation, but maybe he'd get lucky and she'd decide to skip the talk and settle for breaking a few of his bones instead.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Ah, Castiel," Crowley greeted with a smirk. "It's so wonderful to see you. I'm glad you've come. I have something quite fascinating to show you."

Crowley gestured toward two stainless steel tables of the type used by funeral homes to embalm bodies. A seemingly ordinary young white woman was strapped to each of them, but the angel immediately recognized them as shapeshifters - identical twin shapeshifters.

"Check this out," the demon said with a cheeky grin. He held up a cattle prod and pressed it against the side of one of the women. Immediately both she and her twin began to shudder and shriek in pain as they morphed into identical Latino men. "Neat trick, don't you agree?"

In response to his audience's impassive expression, Crowley added, "But wait, there's more." He applied the cattle prod to one of the shifters again, but this time he held it in place. The shifters began to quickly morph into a variety of different genders and ethnicities, and each time they were identical to one another.

The demon finally tired of the display and removed the prod. "I thought about bringing Dr. Mengele topside for a personal demonstration," he said. "He'd be delighted, especially since these two have a rabbi in their repertoire. I do miss the days when humans weren't quite so uptight and politically correct," he remarked with a sigh of nostalgia. "Remember when a nice spot of anti-Semitism was just good, clean fun?"

"No, I don't," Castiel stated flatly.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Oh right, angel. I forgot about that whole 'chosen people' claptrap you halos go on about. On to business then," he said as he laid the cattle prod aside. "What brings your charming presence to my neck of the woods? You obviously didn't come here to be entertained."

"I've acquired some information that leads me to suspect that you're not keeping to the terms our arrangement," the angel said tightly.

"I find that accusation quite hurtful," the demon replied with mock sincerity. "You should know that I take the deals I make quite seriously. I stake my reputation on them. What specifically are you accusing me of?"

"The Slayers suspect a demonic presence on the Hellmouth. We had agreed that you would not interfere there. You were to stay out of Cleveland until we obtain the specifics on opening the doorway. There is no reason to harm them. If we maintain a low profile we can accomplish our goal without them ever knowing we were there."

"Where did you come by this information, Castiel? Because it appears you need a more reliable source. I will have you know that neither I nor any of my people have been within a hundred miles of the Hellmouth. Believe me when I say that I have no desire to stir up trouble with that little blond bitch and her merry band of misfits. She's quite possibly the one human who might prove to be a bigger pain in the ass than your two adorable pet monkeys."

"The Slayers may be remembering parts of their dreams," the angel admitted reluctantly.

"Well then," Crowley stated smugly, "that sounds like a personal problem to me. I thought you were blocking their little prophecies?"

"I am, but I may have underestimated their power."

"We can always kill them," the demon stated nonchalantly. "They won't be having many dreams when they're dead. If you're feeling squeamish, we could likely get away with only snuffing-out little Muffy."

"It's Buffy and no," Castiel stated firmly, "the Slayers are off limits, especially her."

"What is it with you and humans Cas? I'm sure your precious little Slayers would all go upstairs. You could give them each a special cookie and a beachfront suite. Sometimes you do have to break a few eggs."

"The Slayers are non-negotiable. You will not harm them. If you do, the deal is off. I have already re-directed their suspicions. I will also ensure that they have no more dreams and you will ensure that no demons go near them."

"You have my word, no demons on the Hellmouth," Crowley promised as he held out his hand for Castiel to shake.

After the angel had disappeared, Crowley regarded the terrified shapeshifters for a long moment. Finally, he broke into a broad smile as he caught the eye of the one closest to him. "So tell me," he said in a personable tone, "What would you be willing to do to protect your darling sister? Or is it your brother? I've never been quite sure how that works with your sort."