A/N: I totally screwed up and sent my beta the wrong (and very incomplete) version of this chapter. I was too embarrassed to make her re-do everything with the real version. So, I fully own any errors in this one.

The chapter title (Love Stinks) is a J. Geils Band song from the album of the same name (1980).

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 9 – Love Stinks

"I brought ice cream," Willow said with a hopeful smile as she stood on Buffy's front stoop, holding up a gallon of 'Death by Chocolate'.

"Thanks Will," Buffy mumbled as she stood aside to let her friend enter. She did her best to return the smile, but she knew Willow could see right through her. She followed her into the kitchen where Willow immediately took two bowls from the cabinet and began scooping obscene amounts of ice cream into each. She placed a spoon in both bowls, handed one to Buffy, and gestured for her to sit at the kitchen table.

"Okay then," Willow began. "Now that we're properly armed with chocolate-y goodness, we can begin planning Captain Jerkface's untimely demise. Are you thinking quick and painless or slow and excruciatingly painful? I'm on board either way."

When Buffy didn't reply, but instead stared at the bowl of ice cream and played with her spoon, Willow sighed sadly and tried a different tactic.

"So, Faith told me you asked her to take over weapons training today," she remarked.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, "it's probably unwise for me to be in a room full of snippy teenagers and sharp objects right now."

"Bad day, huh?" Willow asked sympathetically.

Buffy gave her friend a sad smile. "It was horrible, Will. After Dean took off, I came home and cried. Then I took a run around the block to make myself feel better, but it didn't work because I cried even harder went I got back. I forgot that men could make you so miserable."

"Women are pretty darn good at it too, if that helps."

"Good, because I want everyone to be equally miserable."

"That's the spirit," Willow cheered. "Any word from the big jerk?"

"He tried to call about an hour ago, but I didn't answer, mostly because I knew he'd be able to tell I'd been crying… Then, there's the part of me that wants to make him suffer. Maybe imagine that I'm not answering because I'm making out with some random guy in a seedy bar. Very mature, right?"

"Nope, but I've always said that maturity is highly overrated. In fact, when you do see him, stick your tongue out at him and give him a big fat raspberry. Like this," she said, providing a demonstration. "You can tell him I sent it."

Buffy laughed at that, but it made her heart hurt when she did. "I'm sorry he treated you that way, Will. You really didn't deserve it."

"True," she agreed, "but it wasn't exactly a huge shocker. I've always known he didn't like me."

Buffy looked up and regarded her friend with a hard gaze. "Has he ever talked to you like that before? Because if I find out that he's treating you like dirt behind my back, I'll break every one of his major bones. I'll do it," she promised.

"No, no he hasn't," Willow assured her quickly. "Really. He's always been polite and stuff… before today. The thing is, I'm gay, Jewish, and a witch – that's centuries of repression coming from all sides. My radar is probably a little more finely-tuned to negative energy than most. Call it self-preservation."

"If it makes you feel any better, I seriously doubt that he's anti-Semitic and he's a big fan of lesbians."

"Now that's a huge surprise," Willow replied with an eye-roll. "But, on the bright side, at least he's only one-third of a bigot."

"Apparently, he's had some pretty bad run-ins with other witches," Buffy explained. "It's his issue. You shouldn't take it personally."

"Well, unfortunately, I have to agree that some witches - including this one – have been known to get a little power happy and go all dark-side from time to time. They don't call it the dark arts for nuthin."

"Don't blame yourself, Willow. Dean's the one in the wrong here."

"I know. Believe me, I'm all on board with national 'Dean's a big, fat jerk' day. But I can't forget my past," she added seriously. "It's important for me to remember. Acceptance and humility are important tools in the fight against power-hungry insanity. Speaking of humility," she added with a pout, "my location spell went all kablooey."

"Really? Actual kablooey or metaphorical kablooey? Because you know how upset Giles gets when you burn down the lab."

"Metaphorical kablooey, thank the Goddess. According to the results of the spell, our friend Eve is currently on the North American continent… the entire North American continent. But at least that rules out the other six," she added cheerfully.

"You're a bright-side kinda girl," Buffy agreed. "So, what do you think went wrong?"

"I have some theories. One – that worm thing went and lied about being an alpha, which is entirely possible, because hello, unreliable, evil slug-guy… Or Two – And this is the depressing one. Eve is incredibly and terrifyingly powerful and was able to scramble my spell … or Three – the spell worked perfectly, meaning she's so huge that she actually takes up an entire continent."

"I think we'd have noticed her by now if it was 'three'."

"Maybe she's huge AND invisible," Willow added hopefully. "But I do have some good news, or I guess it's good news. Sam sure seems to think so, anyway… Why couldn't you have fallen for him, by the way?"

"Sorry Will," she said with a half-smile and a shrug. "Guess I prefer the cranky ones. Anyway, what does Sam think the good news is?"

"Well, it doesn't look like we're dealing with the Exorcist demons. I did a spell to search for demonic energy in the city and I found just about every kind imaginable, but I didn't find that kind. Then, there were some specific omens that Sam was looking for – cattle deaths and freak lightning storms. He didn't find zip. Plus, Giles told me that type of demon doesn't like to hang on the Hellmouth. He seemed kinda surprised by all the hoopla actually. He said that real possessions are incredibly rare and most reports of them are 'merely the rantings of religious fanatics and the mentally ill'."

"I guess that's good news then," Buffy agreed half-heartedly. "The idea of being possessed is pretty creepy. But, on the other hand, it means we're back to square one on figuring out what the black-eyed menace is. I kinda prefer to know what I'm dealing with."

"That was my take on it too, but like I said, Sam thought it was the best news ever. You'd think Christmas had come early this year. He even called Dean and told him about it… and he was pretty perturbed with him this morning."

"Yeah, the whole thing was weird. Dean totally freaked. I've never seen him act that way and I've seen him go up against some pretty wicked stuff. I just don't get it."

"Well, personally, I think it's time for one of the Winchester boys to unload some of their deep, dark secrets, especially if they're going to be living under your roof and sleeping in your bed."

"I agree… but… I've kinda been keeping some secrets too. I've never mentioned anything about Angel or Spike yet. I've thought about telling him, but I always find some excuse to put it off. I don't think he's going to like the fact that I was with not just one, but two fake-vampires."

"He's still on that fake-vampire kick?"

"Oh yeah. That man gives new meaning to the word 'stubborn'."

"But you're the Vampire Slayer," Willow emphasized with air quotes. "Jeez, doesn't that carry any weight these days?"

"Sure it does, but he'll still never admit he was wrong. Besides, I think he just says most of that to aggravate me. He likes to be a pest… and I miss him already," Buffy choked out with a barely suppressed sob.

"It's okay Buffy," her friend said with a comforting pat to her shoulder. "He'll be back, then you'll make up and once again commence with the smoochies. You just have to promise me that the smoochies will come after he gives you a decent explanation for all of this. I don't care if it was a false alarm. What if it had been a real alarm? As far as I'm concerned, he better give you one heck of a darn good reason for keeping secrets from you… and don't you dare start that 'I've been keeping secrets too' baloney. That is so NOT the same thing. Your stuff is personal. His stuff could've gotten people hurt. Big difference."

"I guess so," she said with a sniff.

"No - you know so," Willow emphasized.

"I know," Buffy confirmed. "You're right. I have to play the part of tough-as-nails Buffy. I won't be swayed, no matter how sorry he says he is. If there's no explanation to go along with the sorry, then this girl's not listening. Besides, he was mean. There must be a reckoning," she added with much more conviction.

"Preach it sister!"

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey Buffy, it's me… uh… I really need to see you… I know I've been an ass…. Just call me, okay? I'm back in town…. So….. uh, call me back."

"That's right you've been an ass!" Buffy snapped as she hung up her voice mail after listening to his message for the third time. There was a hint of uncertainty and desperation in his voice that made listening to the recording so very satisfying.

It was still early and she was already making her way through her second graveyard of the night. Luckily, the days were much shorter in the fall, which meant she hadn't had to wait too long for the sun to go down. By the time Dean had made it back from wherever he was, she'd already headed out. She'd had enough of weepy-girl for one day. The bitch was back and she was taking no prisoners. In fact, she was so angry that she almost felt sorry for the evil undead who'd been meeting their brutal deaths at the end of her stake.

In all fairness (and she wasn't feeling particularly fair), she knew that Dean would never deliberately put her in danger. It just didn't mesh with the man she'd come to know. Still, that didn't mean he didn't owe her some answers. She was mad about the secret thing, no doubt about it, but she was mostly angry because he'd hurt her so badly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt the crushing pain that came from being mistreated by someone you'd truly given your heart to. It definitely hadn't happened in this lifetime, meaning not since Willow had brought her back. Part of her had forgotten just how horribly rotten it felt and that part of her selfishly wanted Dean to get a little taste of his own medicine. So, she'd been ignoring his calls. He'd have to sweat it out for a while, because she wasn't cutting him a break any time soon.

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time Buffy arrived back home, it was technically Tuesday morning. She'd worked off mountains of aggression on the Hellmouth's vampire population and all the effort she'd expended had left her drained and a little banged up, and she was beginning to feel the sadness starting to seep back in. When she opened her door, the first thing she saw was Dean. He'd apparently been waiting for her to get in. He appeared very relieved to see her and she noted that there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

He got up from the couch and approached her cautiously. "I've been looking for you," he said. "I was afraid something had happened."

"Just doing my job," she stated coldly. "It's kind of hard to answer the phone when you're busy fighting off an entire nest of vamps. Besides, for some crazy reason, I didn't feel like getting yelled at again."

"Fair enough," he agreed. "I guess I deserved that."

Dean looked Buffy over. He was so relieved and happy to see her again, even though she, understandably, didn't appear to be too happy to see him. When his eyes fell on a nasty black and purple bruise that was beginning to bloom up on one of her cheekbones, he reached a hand out toward her. "You've been hurt," he remarked.

"Don't," she said as she backed away, "don't touch me." She knew it would all be over if he touched her. She'd melt into his arms and break the promise that she'd made to Willow and, more importantly, to herself. She couldn't allow that, he had some explaining to do first.

Dean lowered his hand and regarded her uncertainly for a moment. "I'm so sorry baby," he said with a deep sigh. "I've been the world's biggest dick."

"Yes, you have," she agreed tightly. She was beginning to feel the tears prickling at the back of her eyes again and was determined not to let them spill.

"I talked to Cas," he began hopefully. "He said I was wrong about the demon connection. So, I guess I made an ass out of myself for nothing," he remarked with a slight smile. "How many of my bones do you plan on breaking anyway? Could you at least leave me my right hand? I have a feeling I might be kind of lonely without her," he added with a ghost of his trademark lecherous grin.

Buffy ignored his latest masturbation joke. She wouldn't be sucked in by any of his antics tonight. "I already heard about the demon thing from Willow," she stated in a flat tone. "So, I guess you think that means you're off the hook now? You can just say you're sorry for being a complete jerk and I'll rip off all my clothes and fall back into bed with you. Am I close?"

"No," he said honestly, "I don't expect that. Truth is, I'd feel a whole lot better if you kicked my ass."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she spat angrily. "You'd rather be put in the hospital than be forced to open up and explain yourself. Well too bad Dean, because I'm not playing along. You're going to tell me why you held back information… and this better be good."

"Buffy…" he implored as he tried to close the distance between them again.

Once again she flinched from his touch and then all the hurt and rage inside of her just boiled over. "I told you not to touch me! Are you deaf? Why don't you back off and give me some Goddamned space?" she ground out through gritted teeth. Throwing his own words back in his face was such bittersweet revenge.

Dean stepped back and for a brief moment, Buffy thought he appeared completely crushed, but the expression passed quickly and was replaced by a blank mask.

"I'll go stay with Sam," he stated simply.

She felt like the knife in her heart had just been cruelly twisted. Was that it? He wasn't even going to stand and fight for her? Apparently, she'd been wrong when she'd decided he had deep feelings for her. If he did, he wouldn't give up so easily. He'd stay and fight it out with her, but instead he was just going to walk away. It shouldn't be surprising, they always left. Why should Dean be any different? She apparently wasn't worth the effort.

"You can call me when you're ready to talk," he remarked in a toneless voice as he headed toward the stairs. Presumably, he was going to the bedroom to pack up his things.

Now Buffy felt like her heart had been ripped completely out of her chest. She was about to have a serious breakdown and she wasn't going to let him witness it. She may not have her heart anymore, but she still had her pride and she was planning on keeping it.

"Leave the key," she managed to state without sobbing. She didn't trust herself to say anything further, so she left, slamming the front door behind her as she went. She'd go find a few more vampires to beat up on. She'd come back once she was sure he'd had enough time to get out, then she'd be able to cry alone in her empty bed.

XXXXXXXXXX

"You have gotta be kidding me," Sam stated when he came back to his room for the night. There - in living color - was his big brother, stretched out on his bed, and drinking straight from a fifth of whiskey.

"Hey Sammy," Dean greeted drunkenly. "Looks like you've got a roomie again."

"Dean…" he began as he shook his head, searching for words to express his disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me," he finally repeated.

"Nope, 'm here. You wanna drink?" he asked as he grinned and held up the bottle.

"What the hell, Dean? No, I don't want a drink of that crap. Is that even a real brand? How drunk are you anyway?"

"You ever hear the term 'drunker than Cooter Brown' before? Cooter's a funny-ass name, ain't it? Who do you think he was anyway?"

"I don't know," Sam replied tiredly. "If I had to guess, I'd say he was some poor schmuck's annoying older brother. I can't believe you," he remarked with clear exasperation in his voice. "Did you even try to go and talk with Buffy, or have you been hiding out in here soaking your liver all night?"

"I tried Sammy, but she showed me the door," he replied with a defeated slump of his shoulders. "So, Imma gettin' drunk," he slurred with a lopsided grin. " 's my plan B."

Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the other bed, facing his brother. As angry as he'd been with him today, he was starting to feel kind of sorry for him. He didn't blame Buffy for feeling betrayed, but he knew Dean was absolutely devastated. He had a feeling that his brother didn't even fully realize how hopelessly in love he was. The sight of him took most of the steam out of Sam's rage.

"Did you tell her why you did it?" he asked earnestly.

"She wouldn't listen, besides s'not what you think."

"So, it wasn't because you desperately wanted to believe that the business with Crowley had nothing to do with what was going on around here?"

A bit of surprise could be seen in Dean's glazed eyes. "You got me," he admitted without meeting Sam's gaze. "I can't deal. I'm a friggin child."

Sam shook his head sadly. "Dean, you've lost everything to demons - everything. Maybe you weren't exactly looking at things objectively, but what the hell do you expect from yourself? It freaked me out too, man. I about shit when you said there were demons here in Cleveland. You have to explain this stuff to Buffy, I'm sure she'll understand."

"She doesn't wanna talk to me, Sam. Won't even let me get close to her. I think she's done."

"She's mad right now, but she'll come around," Sam replied confidently. "Then you can explain your sorry ass to her and get the hell out of my hair… and until then," he added as he kicked out a long leg and connected with his brother's boot, "get your dirty boots off my bed."

"This is my bed," he replied sullenly. "I always get the one by the door."

"No," Sam disagreed. "It's my bed. You're a guest here, a temporary guest. Now get your ass up before you spill whatever the hell it is you're drinking on my sheets. Come on dude," he added more gently, "you'll work it out and then you won't have to worry about sleeping on a crap hotel mattress anymore."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey girl," Faith greeted as she strolled into Buffy's office. "How's it hangin'?"

"Huh?" Buffy replied, cupping her hand against her ear. "Sorry, but I think Dawn's screeching has permanently damaged my hearing this time."

"So, you finally caught her on the phone without the creep standing over her shoulder? Went great didn't it?"

"It was a roaring success. Before she started screaming, I learned that I'm paranoid due to my undiagnosed PTSD and I have a nearly delusional obsession with danger that overrides my ability to make sound judgments about people's character. It's not really my fault though. I'm just a sick, sick puppy who's greatly in need of decades of therapy."

"Ouch! What the hell is all that crap?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Freshman psych. I just hope her teacher isn't a mad scientist who wants to create evil robot-demon-men… Hold on a second, maybe I am a little paranoid."

"No, you just live in the real world. All those so-called normal people are the delusional nutjobs and don't you forget it."

"Well that's a relief," she replied with a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"How ya holdin' up B?" Faith asked in a more serious tone. "No offense, but you're lookin' a little rough around the edges. Plus, I gotta tell ya. If you don't take that boy of yours back soon, I'm gonna hafta rearrange his pretty face. I've been tryin' to make time with his brother, but I can't get anywhere with that sad-sack constantly hovering around."

"He's sad?" Buffy asked with obvious hopefulness in her tone.

Faith smiled and shook her head at her friend. "Yeah, he's completely miserable. Lucky for him, he takes most of it out on the Hellmouth's demon population, otherwise I'd thrash his ass. He can really deliver a serious beat-down when he gets goin' though. Kinda hot for a pretty boy."

"I'll put you back in a coma."

Faith laughed, she knew Buffy was only joking… sorta. "Don't sweat it B, you know I've got my eyes on the other, hotter Winchester. So seriously, when are you gonna take Dean back? That dude is severely cramping my style."

"I don't think he wants to come back," she replied with a dejected frown. "I haven't seen or heard boo from him all week."

"Whatever," Faith stated with a long-suffering sigh. "Don't be stupid. I told you the guy was miserable. Just go talk to the idiot. Believe me, that's some sound advice. I got it off this cute little blond chick I know."

Buffy smiled at her friend, Faith didn't give out compliments very often. "I don't know," she groaned. "I think he needs to come talk to me. He left me! I'm the most miserable. Look at me, I've hardly slept in days, I can't eat, even my hair's turned against me," she remarked as she pointed to her plain and rather limp looking ponytail. "He should make the first move. I'm not gonna run crying to him."

"Well, I can't argue with your logic. You know me – never let 'em see ya sweat, but most importantly never, ever let 'em see ya cry. But then again, who am I to give advice? You're the relationship girl."

"Yeah, well name one Buffy relationship that hasn't ended with the guy either dying or skipping town? In a few instances, they've even managed to do both. I'm amazing like that," she added bitterly.

"Well something's gotta stick eventually, don't it?" Faith asked hopefully.

"I guess I can always dream."

Faith didn't know what else to say. She wanted to be supportive, but this subject was way out of her depth. She could always kick Dean's ass for Buffy, but she didn't think that would qualify as helping and she was pretty damn sure Sam wouldn't appreciate it.

"Well, I just wanted to check in with ya," she finally said awkwardly. "I'm gonna go see if I can dig up something to eat. I'm starved! You hang in there B."

"Thanks Faith," Buffy said sincerely.

Faith turned suddenly when she reached the doorway. "Damn, I almost forgot," she said. "I actually had some Slayer business to discuss. You know that dream journal thing you wanted us to do?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I gotta admit that I haven't exactly been all Bookworm Betty about writing down my dreams."

"Color me surprised," Buffy replied dryly.

"Yeah, well," Faith said unapologetically, "I never was big on the homework, but after you mentioned that 'black eyes' thing the other day, I thought I might actually give it a shot. The thing is, I haven't had any dreams at all that I can remember this week. None. Not even the usual naked in class kind or that scary one where you feel like you're falling. I haven't even had the one where Tobey Maguire's going down on me."

"Spiderman?"

"Yeah, he's cute."

"Yeah, he's cute," Buffy agreed, "but he doesn't really seem like your type."

"I dunno. He's kinda got that sweet, innocent thing goin' for him. He has a really cute smile and I bet he'd have one hell of a technique. Goin' down's an important skill."

Buffy snorted a giggle, it was probably the first genuine laugh she'd had all week. "Wow, that is so much more information that I ever needed to know about you."

"Speaking of technique," Faith began with a wicked grin. "That night I spent with Sam—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Buffy said quickly, holding up both of her hands in front of her. "Back that train up! Please do not go any further with that sentence. I can't know about that. It's just… Trust me, it's not something I need to know."

Faith smirked and shook her head. "Fine, I won't corrupt your pure and virginal little ears," she remarked sarcastically. "But hey, at least I made ya laugh."

"True," Buffy smiled, "but then you ruined it by traumatizing me."

Faith shrugged. "The no dream thing's weird though, ain't it? What about you?"

"Well, I hadn't really thought about it," Buffy admitted. "I haven't written anything else down this week, but then again, I haven't been doing much sleeping either. I should probably ask the girls about it."

"I think you should."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey Sam," Dean said as he gave up on the motel's crap cable selection and tossed the remote aside. "Would you mind spottin' me a couple hundred bucks for the weekend? I'll pay you back."

Sam stopped folding and putting away his freshly laundered clothes and regarded his brother suspiciously. "What for?" he asked.

"I'm going to Vegas for a few days."

"What?" Sam asked incredulously. "Vegas? Dude, I don't think so. Actually, let me rephrase that - hell no! There's no way I'm loaning you money so you can run off and self-destruct. This is stupid Dean! I can't believe you're actually going to give up and throw everything away. You should be trying to talk to Buffy right now, not running off to drink, gamble, and sleep around with showgirls. If you do this - you're screwed. I hope you realize that and don't you dare expect me to feel sorry for you."

"You done?" Dean asked with a smug smirk.

"Whatever," his brother replied with a disgusted wave of his hand. "You're not listening anyway."

"If you'll give me a chance Mr. Sunshine, I'll tell you why I'm going to Vegas."

"I'm listening," Sam replied curiously.

"You know those necklaces we used to wear before we got all tatted-up? Well, Bobby knows this guy in Vegas that specializes in occult jewelry. Apparently, the dude has those things mass-produced in China. He sells 'em to tourists for ten bucks a pop - as good luck charms or some shit. Anyway, I thought I'd go and see if I can score enough to outfit all the Slayers and their people. I know I'm being paranoid and we're not actually dealing with demons," he added sheepishly, "but I'd still sleep better at night. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I know. I think I'd sleep better myself. That's a really good idea, Dean. I'm sorry I said all that man," he added sincerely. "I shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Course you shouldn't, because I've never been known to drink, gamble, or sleep around," he remarked with a wry smile.

"Are you gonna call Buffy and tell her you're leaving town? I think maybe you should."

"I was planning on getting up with her when I got back. Truth is, I don't think it'll hurt to have a little something on hand, to show her that I'm serious about making sure her and her girls are safe. I mean, I'm not saying that's the only reason I'm doing this…"

Sam nodded. "Believe me, I get it and I'm completely on board. In fact, you don't even have to pay me back. I want to chip in. I'll even go with you."

Dean smiled at the offer. "Nah, you stay. Buffy needs you here."

"I doubt that."

"No, she does, seriously. Having a giant babysitter takes a lot of stress off her shoulders. Besides, Lusty Busty's been sniffing around a lot lately. I'm pretty sure she'd like to get rid of my ass for a few days."

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's not like that Dean, we're just friends."

Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow at his brother. "Do we need to have the talk Sammy? Don't be so naïve. Trust me. I've gotten that look from plenty of chicks over the years. She wants another ride on the magic salami."

"Dude! You're so disgusting," Sam said, but he laughed anyway. "How much money do you need?"

"I've got a couple hundred myself. So, I figured if I could get another two from you, I'd have enough to make the trip and be able to earn the rest on the blackjack tables, or I could probably find a low-stakes poker game at one of the off-strip casinos."

"So, you're gambling after all," Sam remarked with a fond shake of his head.

"Well hell yeah, I'm gambling. I'm going to Vegas, dude."

XXXXXXXXXX

Las Vegas was a good thirty-hour drive from Cleveland and that was in perfect conditions. Dean had pushed himself hard to get there in two days. He was tired of missing Buffy and he wanted to get this done and get back as soon as he could. She'd asked for some time and he'd done his best to give it to her, but it had been over a week since the blowout and she still hadn't called. He couldn't take it anymore. When he got back, she'd either have to hear him out or kill him, because he was done with the space thing. This situation was going to be resolved one way or the other. He didn't quite know what he'd do if things didn't turn out well, but he knew he couldn't stand the waiting.

Dean had a lot of experience with misery. It was the one subject he could claim to be a complete expert on… or so he'd thought. He'd found that this situation with Buffy was a whole new experience. Sure, there was the familiar grief and emptiness that he'd experienced each time someone close to him had died, but the fact that she was alive and well and currently just out of reach, actually seemed to make the anguish even worse. It was literally physically painful to think that right now she was probably just getting in to work, looking beautiful as always. He wondered what she was wearing and if she had her hair up or down today. Was she happy and laughing at her friend's jokes or was she miserable like he was? He didn't want her to be miserable, he really didn't, but he couldn't stand the thought of her being happy either, because that would mean he'd lost her.

He hated this feeling. For the first time in his life he was actually identifying with the lyrics to sappy break-up songs on the radio. In the past, he usually turned the dial because they were lame and now he was doing it because he actually understood what they were saying - it was seriously messing with his head. In the back of his mind, he was beginning to wonder if all of this misery might possibly mean that he was actually in love. If that's what it was, then man did it suck! Why would anyone in their right mind choose to do that to themselves? It was insane. Everything made him want to bang his head against the wall, even Vegas. He used to love Vegas. Sin city, baby - the place where the liquor ran free, the girls were all hot, and nothing ever closed. Now he hated all the happy tourists and the contrast between the tall, statuesque showgirls and short, petite, little Buffy only made him miss her more. He'd found that he was much happier in the seedy off-strip casinos. The people there were much less annoying because they were just as gloomy as he was. If it was possible, some of them might've even been worse.

The off-strip casinos were the places where the down-on-their-luck gambling addicts and alcoholics liked to congregate. The waitresses all looked pretty worn and the working ladies were way, way past their prime. It was absolutely perfect. The phrase 'misery loves company' had never seemed more appropriate. Plus, these bastards liked to gamble and you could buy into a poker game for way less than two hundred dollars. That had been the bare minimum at some casinos and wouldn't even buy you the time of day at many others. So, he'd found the skeeviest dive possible and actually managed to hit it lucky there. He was twelve-hundred bucks ahead when he'd decided that he better not push it. He couldn't afford to get greedy. He now had more than enough cash to get the charms, eat, put gas in the Impala, and get his ass back to Cleveland. He'd even be able to pay Sam back and have some cash left over.

It took Dean a while to find the place he was looking for. Apparently, the guy Bobby knew had moved his place of business since the last time Bobby had been there. He was relieved when he finally spotted the sign a few blocks over and back from the address he'd been given. The place was called 'The Highway' and Dean quickly realized that it was actually a head shop. The first thing he saw when he walked in the door was a giant three-foot glass bong with a bowl the size of his fist. Talk about flying high, anybody who managed to smoke an entire bowl through that thing would be able to eat their way through an entire grocery store full of Twinkies. Under different circumstances, he would've liked to have given that thing a whirl himself.

He made his way toward the back, unsure if he was even in the right place. Then, his eyes fell on the selection of necklaces and charms that were displayed near the register. There were the usual giant pot leaves and strings of hippie beads, but he also spotted some things that were definitely genuine occult paraphernalia. He approached a spacey looking chick that was sitting on a stool behind the counter, apparently oblivious to his presence. She had these really nasty looking, blond dreadlocks and he could smell the stench of patchouli a mile away. He had to stop himself from laughing in her face when he remembered that Rufus had once referred to white-people-dreads as 'matlocks'. It was a fitting name.

"Can I help you?" she finally said, after he'd cleared his throat loudly for the second time.

"Yeah," he replied, hesitating because of the words he'd have to say next. Bobby said the dude wouldn't even talk to you if you messed up his name. It was so ridiculous, he couldn't believe he was going to have to say this. "Can I speak to … uh… Rainbow Dave?" he finally asked. "You can tell him I'm a friend of Bobby Singer."

The chick looked Dean up and down suspiciously for a few moments before shrugging and sliding off of her stool. "Sure," she said unenthusiastically, "I'll go get him."

Rainbow Dave was pretty much what Dean would have expected. The dude was one of the original hippies. He was obviously up in his sixties, but he still wore his gray hair in a long, beaded ponytail and also had on the required uniform of tie-dye and Birkenstocks.

"So you must be a hunter," the old man stated curiously as he looked Dean over. With all the staring going on, Dean was beginning to feel like he was the freak. Of course, given the current surroundings, that was pretty much the case.

"Yep," he confirmed, deciding to get straight to business. "I'm looking to get at least thirty-five charms. Like this," he said as he tugged back his shirt collar to reveal his tattoo.

"Far out," Rainbow Dave remarked as he nodded his approval. "I think I can fix you up, man. Just wait here and let me go check my inventory."

As Dean waited, he absently looked over the guy's merchandise. It was a strange collection of hippie-dippy crap and heavy-duty mysticism. Just as he heard the rattle of the beaded curtain that signaled Rainbow Dave's return, his eyes fell on a charm bracelet that was sitting in the display cabinet. It was silver and had a collection of protection charms on it. He remembered his mother wearing a similar one.

"You're in luck dude," the old hippie said as he held up a handful of charm necklaces. "I'm actually overstocked on this particular item. Folks are into Kokopelli necklaces this year. You never know what's gonna be hot."

"Cool," Dean remarked absently. "Hey man, can I take a look at that bracelet," he asked as he pointed to the case.

"Sure, I got that off of another hunter. Took it in trade. It's genuine handcrafted silver. Really old too. This ain't no made-in-China crap. You gotta lady hunter?" he asked with a knowing grin as he handed the bracelet over to Dean.

"Sorta," Dean replied as he carefully checked out the charms. They were the real deal, genuine protection charms and from a variety of different religions and cultures. Some of them he didn't even recognize. He had to admit that they were kinda pretty too. Whoever had made them had really paid attention to detail and some even had real gemstones in them as well. He knew Buffy would like it, she was all into pretty, girly things and he found that he really wanted her to have it. He'd never bought jewelry for a woman before, but there was a first time for everything.

"What do ya want for it?" he asked the guy with his best poker face.

"Oh man, that's a really nice piece. Handmade and everything."

Dean groaned inwardly. Dude was about to name a ridiculous price, otherwise he wouldn't be laying it on so thick."

"Tell ya what, I'll give it to you for a thousand. I should ask a whole lot more, but only a hunter or maybe a witch would recognize it for what it's worth. I don't see many of either in here, so I'll cut you a deal."

Dean sighed. The guy was right, a thousand was more than a fair price. He figured he could probably bargain with the hippie and knock a little more off, but probably not enough. At ten bucks a pop, the anti-possession charms were going to set him back three-fifty. He had almost thirteen in his pocket, but he'd have to stop for gas quite a few times on his way back. He just didn't see how he could swing it unless he hit the poker tables again. The truth was, he was afraid his luck was about to run out. Just as he was about to give up on the idea, an idea struck him.

"So you take trade?" he asked.

"If it's something I'm interested in," Rainbow Dave confirmed. "I'm not running a pawn shop."

Dean smiled. "Oh, I think I've got something you're gonna like. Just give me a few minutes."

Dean returned a few minutes later with a leather sheath. The sheath itself was decorated in occult symbols, but what was inside was what mattered. It was a silver dagger with a six-inch blade. He'd won the knife and the sheath in a poker game the last time he'd visited the Roadhouse. It really was a thing of beauty and very lethal too. One side was razor sharp and the other was serrated. It would really suck to get stabbed by something like that, but what really made it special was the elaborately carved ivory handle. Dean had meant to pawn the blade, because as cool as it was, it was a little too flashy for his tastes. For some reason, he'd never gotten around to it and it had sat buried in the trunk for years. He was glad too, because the old hippie was obviously interested.

Dean had decided that he'd be willing to give the guy the knife plus seven-hundred bucks for both the necklaces and the bracelet, but he knew how this game was played, so he offered the guy five-hundred. Rainbow Dave countered at eight and they met in the middle at seven. The guy even threw in an extra five anti-possession necklaces to make it an even forty. Dude said it was good karma to stay on the hunting community's good side, because he just might need their help one day. Dean couldn't argue with that logic, so he gave the old freak his cellphone number just in case.

Dean was more than pleased with his haul for the day and he was itching to hit the road again. He knew Buffy wasn't the type of woman that could be bought off with shiny jewelry and hoped she'd realize that wasn't what he was trying to do….. or hell, maybe that was what he was trying to do. These were desperate times. He'd try almost anything at this point.

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Okay, I know I dropped the Cas/Crowley bomb in the last chapter and now I'm not giving you much more on that (ducks head). There was just so much relationship drama to deal with in this chapter. Forgive me? I promise we'll have more Cas/Crowley.