A/N: Chapter title (Head Games) is a Foreigner song from the album Head Games (1979). Thanks to my beta isugirl.
Chapter 10 – Head Games
Buffy's face burned hot when she caught a glimpse of Sam through the dusty cloud left by her latest victim. She hoped he hadn't been standing there long, because she'd given the very confused vamp a lecture on the perils of being a big, secretive jerk who'd decided to skip town. Unfortunately for her, Sam looked pretty embarrassed himself, so she had the feeling that he'd heard enough to catch the drift.
"Sorry," he shrugged sheepishly. "I wasn't trying to lurk, I just didn't want to distract you from the fight."
"Hi Sam," she greeted with a sheepish smile of her own. "I don't guess there's any chance you'd believe I was just ranting about recent developments on my favorite soap?"
"Whatever you say," he replied with a smile. "I'm just glad I'm not that soap guy."
"So, what's the what?" she asked in a forcibly cheery tone, hoping to quickly get past this thoroughly mortifying situation.
"Same ole, same ole. I was actually just walking home for the night. So, I take it you heard Dean went to Vegas?"
Buffy groaned and kicked petulantly at the pile of dust by her feet. Sam wasn't going to let this awkward situation die a graceful death after all (damn him).
"I heard," she replied sullenly. "It's gone through the Slayer grapevine… one of the girls mentioned it."
"I told Dean to call you and tell you, but he never listens to anything I say. He said he wanted to wait and talk to you in person when he got back."
"Really?" Buffy asked, failing to conceal her hopefulness. "I mean," she shrugged, "okay, whatever."
Sam barely managed to suppress his grin. "You know, I would have told you about it myself if you hadn't been so hard to find these days. I'm sure Faith would've too."
"It's not what it looks like," Buffy began with a guilty expression.
"So, you're not really hiding out and avoiding all non-job-related texts and voice mails?"
"Well, maybe it is what it looks like," she admitted.
"Just so you know," Sam began gently. "He didn't go there to live the high life. He's on a job."
"Oh," Buffy replied. She couldn't think of a more intelligent response because she was so emotionally drained. The past week and a half had been a rollercoaster. A few days ago, she'd finally decided that maybe she'd overreacted when Dean had offered to go and stay with Sam. It was quite possible that the gazillion tons of relationship baggage she carried around had interfered with her judgment. She'd almost convinced herself that Dean may have only been trying to respect her space and that the situation had just gotten way out-of-hand. But just as soon as she'd made up her mind to call him and attempt to talk this mess out, she met mini-Cordelia (otherwise known as Carrie) in the lunchroom. The snotty little brat made a big show of faking support and sympathy for Buffy's 'situation' - all in front of a dozen other girls. That's when she learned that Dean had run off to Vegas and that Carrie was there for her if she needed a shoulder to cry on. It was utterly humiliating. Buffy felt like she was back in high school and she'd kind of acted that way too. She'd fled the lunchroom with very little dignity intact and since then, she'd been valiantly hiding from the world. Now she didn't know what to think anymore. Her mind was refusing to process any further data. She was pretty sure Will called that a fatal hard-drive failure. Apparently, she was ready to join the Buffybot on the scrapheap of life.
Buffy was brought back to awareness when she realized that Sam was trying to get her attention. She'd been too busy staring into space like a lunatic to remember she wasn't alone. "Sorry," she said as she refocused her brain on the present. "Looks like I'm bravely hiding out in my own head now. That's probably not a good sign," she added with a frown.
"At least you're not bravely hiding out in a fifth of cheap whiskey," Sam teased lightly.
"I would if it came in a yummy chocolate-y flavor," she replied. With a defeated sigh, she slid down the wall of a nearby crypt until she was sitting on the cold ground with her legs splayed out in front of her.
"What's going on, Sam?" she groaned as she looked up at him imploringly. "I know it's not fair to put you in the middle, but I'm too tired to worry about such petty concepts."
Sam joined her on the ground, propping his own back against the wall of the crypt. "You might hate me for this, but I'm afraid I can't tell you much."
"He swore you to silence, huh? You do realize I can beat it out of you. I'm stronger than I look," she remarked as she flexed her small arm in demonstration.
"No," he said with a shake of his head, "He didn't swear me to silence. I just know I wouldn't be doing him any favors if I tried to fix things for him."
"So, he wants things fixed?" Buffy asked tentatively.
"Of course he does," Sam stressed. "He's been a mess ever since you kicked him out."
"SinceI kicked him out!" she exclaimed. "What planet is he living on? Because I live here on earth - the place where he announced that he was leaving."
Sam chuckled, earning himself a death-glare from Buffy. "I'm sorry," he said as he made himself stop laughing. "It's not funny… it's just… man, my brother is so clueless. So how'd it really go down?" he asked. "If you don't mind telling me, that is."
Buffy proceeded to give Sam the abridged version of the 'conversation'. When she was finished, she asked, "Don't you think he should have stayed and gave me his explanation no matter how much I yelled at him? After all, I was just giving him a taste of his own cranky, curse-y medicine. He was supposed to beg for my forgiveness and then force me to listen to his reasons while I glared, pouted, and threatened to turn his skull into a soup bowl. You know - the usual stuff. That's how these things are done! I don't write the rules."
This time Sam completely lost it. He couldn't stop laughing no matter how irritated Buffy appeared to be with him. "Oh wow," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "That was good."
"I'm glad this is so entertaining," Buffy griped as she crossed her arms in front of her.
Sam managed to put on a semblance of a straight face before speaking again. "Buffy," he began, "Dean has no earthly idea what the rules are. I'm telling you the God's honest truth. Dude's like a bull in a china shop when it comes to stuff like this. He's had exactly one long-term girlfriend and, at that time, I doubt his head was on straight enough for him to pick up too many new relationship skills. I'm just saying you can't expect him to play the game when he doesn't even realize he's in one. If you expect something from him, you're gonna have to tell him."
Buffy's face fell, she felt like she was about two inches tall. Sam probably thought she was the world's shallowest person. "I'm not trying to play games," she replied quietly. "I just have a really disastrous track record. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Even my baggage has baggage. It's this whole big thing… I'm a complete neurotic mess. Dawn says I need decades of therapy."
"Join the club," he said as he nudged her playfully with his elbow. "Dean and I are the original founding members, so I'm sure we can get you a good seat at the meetings. Newbies have to bring the donuts and make the coffee though."
Buffy giggled a little. Sam was actually making her feel like there might be some hope.
"So, I guess you're still not gonna tell me what started all this in the first place?" she asked. "I still think I have a right to be mad about that, by the way," she stressed in a serious tone. "Dean shouldn't keep potentially life-threatening secrets."
"Hell no, he shouldn't," Sam agreed firmly. "Believe me. You would've had to stand in line behind me to kick his ass that day. But no, I'm still not going to tell you why. Dean needs to do that. I'm not trying to be difficult," he explained. "The thing is, Dean has to learn to let somebody in. I may not always be here and I worry about what might happen to him."
"Are you planning on leaving?" Buffy asked in surprise.
"No," he assured her, "I'm not. Not at all. But there are some things…" Sam paused for a moment before deciding not to elaborate any further about the big question mark his 'hell wall' had placed over his future. He had a feeling Buffy was soon going to be hearing enough Winchester family drama to last her a lifetime. There was no point in dropping spoilers right before the big show.
"Well, you know how this life is," he finally said. "You never know what might happen."
"Yeah," she agreed solemnly. "There's always some wacky fun to be had. No doubt about that."
"Nope," he agreed, "No doubt. But believe me, no matter how badly I want to kill my brother at times, home will always be wherever he is. In the same town anyway," he added with a grin. "Truth is, I'd rather you be the one to get the honor of listening to his snoring and smelling his socks. So, do me a favor and hear him out. That's all I'm asking."
"Okay," Buffy promised. "I can do that. Those socks are pretty stinky and I wouldn't want to be held responsible for anyone else's suffering. I am the chosen one after all. I scoff in the face of evil and stinky feet."
Sam laughed. "Thanks, I seriously owe you one."
Buffy leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek before pushing herself back up onto her feet. She smiled when she noticed how embarrassed he appeared to be. It was kinda hard to tell in the dark, but she was pretty sure he was blushing.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "You're a really good brother and you're a pretty good friend too, but I'd like you a whole lot better if you learned how to be a gossip. It's no fun when you keep all the juicy details to yourself," she teased. "Anyway, I think it's time for Buffy to get her two-hours of nightly beauty sleep. You may not believe me, but it takes a lot of work to achieve dark circles like these," she remarked as she waved goodbye. "See ya around, Sam."
"Good night, Buffy," Sam said, returning her wave. "Tomorrow night," he added. "Dean should get back tomorrow night."
"I'll keep my phone on," Buffy assured him as she headed toward the graveyard's exit.
XXXXXXXXXX
Faith knew that Sam was somewhere nearby, because of the chatter on her radio. Every once in a while Xander would have one of his flashbacks to the night he'd been a soldier. These would usually result in him coming up with a pretty cool tactical idea. Shortwave radios were his latest. When you were out on patrol, the radios were much more practical than dialing a number on a cell phone, plus you could put out a general distress call. Thanks to Willow, their designated channel was heavily encrypted, which meant they didn't have to worry about nosy civilians listening in either. The new system had worked extremely well, but as far as Faith was concerned, the biggest bonus was that she could usually pick up on Sam's whereabouts. After all, it was important for a girl to have her priorities.
So, with her priorities in mind, Faith was strolling through Forest Lawn Cemetery. In her opinion, it was the most poorly named cemetery of them all. How could you call it a 'forest' when there were no trees? What was even weirder was that every single town seemed to have at least one. It was almost like someone had created the most morbid franchise ever invented. It was McDonald's for dead people.
She slowed her walk when her extra-sensitive hearing picked up on the sound of voices nearby. As she crept closer, she realized that she recognized those voices. Normally, that would cause her to drop her guard a little. Voices she recognized usually signaled that she wasn't dealing with anything that needed slaying. However, these voices put her on guard for a different reason, because they belonged to Buffy and Sam. It was stupid really, but every now and then, she'd have one of her old jealous twinges when it came to Buffy. She loved Buffy and she knew that she'd gone to bat for her on more than one occasion, however, deep-down there was still a tiny bit of the old Faith. The old Faith that believed pretty, perfect Buffy had been put on earth to outshine her and to take everything that should be rightfully hers. She hated that Faith, but unfortunately, right now she was rearing her ugly head.
Buffy was sitting on the ground beside Sam. They seemed comfortable with one another as they talked and that in itself bothered her a little. When it came to Sam, she'd had to struggle to come up with something witty to say, but Buffy was sitting there chatting away like it was the easiest thing on earth. Then the real clincher came when Buffy kissed him on the cheek. Reasonable-Faith said this meant nothing. Buffy wouldn't do that to her and besides this was Dean's brother. Sam may be just another untrustworthy man, but she knew he was very loyal to Dean. Plus, it wasn't like Buffy had her tongue down his throat or anything. Regardless, Not-So-Reasonable-Faith was seeing red. The two of them were busy duking it out when she realized that Buffy was headed straight for her. She froze. It was too late to duck out and head the other way.
"Faith," Buffy exclaimed in surprise. "How'd you get here so fast? Did somebody give you a ride?"
"Huh?" Faith remarked as she gave the other Slayer a thoroughly confused expression.
"Vi said you were all the way over on the North side of town," Buffy remarked. "She's kinda upset because she thinks you snubbed her."
"I don't know what the hell she's talkin' about," she replied a little defensively. "I haven't been anywhere near the North end tonight."
"Huh," Buffy shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Oh well, you might want to tell her that when you see her, because you know how she gets. I love the girl, but she can be a little sensitive and nervy sometimes."
"Sure, whatever. I'll try to remember."
Buffy gave her friend a grin and stepped up closer. "You're looking for Sam aren't you?" she whispered.
"No," Faith denied as she crossed her arms and looked at Buffy irritably.
Buffy just kept grinning and then she pulled Faith into a hug. "You better go for it," she whispered into her ear. "Don't be a big fraidy cat."
"Get off me," Faith said good-naturedly as she pushed the other girl away. She grinned at Buffy and shook her head (Reasonable-Faith had won out this time). "What's up with you?" she asked. "You're actually smiling. Maybe I should take a picture."
Buffy shrugged. "Sam's good with the cheering," she replied quietly. "He said Dean's going to come talk to me tomorrow night."
"That's good B," she replied sincerely. "I'm happy for you. I'm sure it'll all work out."
Buffy smiled in reply and then announced way too loudly, "I'll see you tomorrow Faith, have a good night."
Faith rolled her eyes. Buffy had deliberately given her presence away so that she'd be forced to go and say 'hello' to Sam. It was so juvenile, but she kinda loved the girl for it.
Her friend lowered her voice to a whisper once again. "You have the Buffy seal of approval," she said with a nod and a thumbs-up. Then she winked and hurried on her way home.
"That chick is a strange one," Faith said as she walked toward Sam, who was in the process of standing up and dusting off the seat of his pants.
"Aren't we all," Sam replied with a smile, holding his hand out to indicate their surroundings. "Who else is crazy enough to spend so much time in graveyards?"
"Good point," she agreed and then stood there for a moment trying to find something brilliant to say.
"So, what's up?" both of them asked, nearly in unison.
Sam laughed a little and then replied, "Not much. You know, just the usual."
Faith noticed that Sam's voice sounded a little distracted and she could tell by the subtle shift in his gaze that he was alerting her to something behind her. She spun around quickly with her stake raised. She didn't follow through, however, because she was stunned by how utterly lame this vamp was. He was obviously newly risen, judging from the dirt clinging to his cheap suit and the guy looked like the most unlikely vampire ever. In fact, he looked like a paunchy, middle-aged, supermarket manager. He even had a receding hairline and a bad comb-over.
"What's up with that?" Faith asked as she nonchalantly turned her back on the creature and pointed over her shoulder with her stake.
Sam just shook his head. He was also obviously baffled.
Faith turned her attention back to the vampire. "Buddy, I've gotta know… Who in the hell thought it was a good idea for you to live forever?"
The vamp stared at Faith, seemingly unsure of what to do next. This clearly was not how he'd pictured his first kill.
"What do ya think?" Faith asked, once again addressing Sam.
"Mercy kill."
Faith nodded and turned around to face the creature again. To his credit, the vampire did manage to get out one fairly ferocious growl before turning to dust.
"That sucked," Faith said irritably. "What the hell was that about? Remember when they only turned the sexy people? I mean, sure, there were always a few creepy, bug-eater types around, but the vamps need their minions. That guy would even make a crappy minion."
"I think they're more interested in quantity than quality these days," Sam replied sympathetically.
"Well, it sucks. Kills like that are no fun at all," she said sullenly.
Sam smiled when he saw a group of three more vampires approaching them from about a hundred yards away. "What about those guys?" he asked.
Faith studied the group for a moment as they walked slowly toward them. "Meh," she shrugged, unimpressed. "At least they don't look like fledglings, I guess."
"No, definitely not fledglings. In fact, I think these guys died on the set of Michael Jackson's Beat It video.
Faith laughed. "Hey, you're right! That one's even wearing the zippered jacket. Well hell," she said, her face brightening, "let's do this."
XXXXXXXXXX
Faith loved to watch the Winchester boys in a fight (especially Sam, of course). She'd decided that Dean was good to have around simply because he tended to get his brother all riled-up. Faith could always appreciate a troublemaker, especially when it resulted in her getting to see Sam open up on one of the bad guys. The Winchester fighting style was more about brute force than any specific technique. They fought dirty too. There were no holds barred and both of them knew how to take a hit. It was so damn hot!
Faith had been itching for a good fight and despite their 1980's flashback clothing, these guys didn't disappoint. She'd taken her time with the first one and then staked the second fairly quickly just so she could stand back and watch Sam wail on the third. The third one (aka Michael Jackson) was a pretty savvy fighter. He knew he needed to keep his chest protected, so he was doing a decent job of keeping Sam at a distance. Unfortunately for him, Sam had a pretty long reach. Eventually, he managed to kick the vamp's legs out from under him, deliver a couple of nasty, stunning blows to its face, and then finally plunge a stake into its heart.
Faith was wired now. A good fight always boosted her confidence. Buffy was right, she needed to go for it. When Sam stood up, breathing heavily and trying to shake the dust out of his clothing, she made her move. He was a few yards away, so she got a running start and then jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. For a moment, he looked completely shocked, but quickly recovered, pulled her in close, and began kissing her fiercely. It was exactly the reaction Faith was aiming for.
Once the tension had reached its boiling point, Faith reached down, unzipped his fly, and stroked him roughly. Sam practically growled in response and took a few steps with her so that her back was now pressed against the side of the crypt he'd been sitting against earlier. It was go time. Faith unhooked her legs from around him and put her feet back on the ground, so that she could get rid of her pants. She'd begun on her own zipper when she felt the stiffness leaving his body as he pulled away from her. Technically, not all of the stiffness left (there was still one very important part that was still ready to go), but the rest of him was clearly backing off.
"What the hell is your problem, dude?" Faith asked angrily. She couldn't believe he was rejecting her again. It was so humiliating and she didn't get it, because it seemed obvious that he wanted her.
"Faith, I can't," Sam sighed in a defeated tone. He appeared to be struggling with himself.
"What do you mean, you can't?" she snapped. "It sure looks like you can to me," she stated with a pointed glance toward his fly. "You know what? Forget it! I don't need this shit!"
Faith started to walk away, but Sam grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in place against the wall of the crypt. "Just listen –" he began. He didn't get to finish his sentence because Faith roughly shoved him backwards. He would have fallen on his ass, but he was able to grab ahold of a tall statue of an angel that was standing over one of the graves. When he looked over at Faith, he saw something he never expected to see. She was angry of course, that he'd expected, but he could swear that he also saw fear in her eyes. In fact, she looked a little panicky. He was totally thrown. Was she actually afraid of him? It made no sense. They both knew that she could crack his skull open without breaking a sweat.
Sam stepped forward when she began to bolt. He momentarily considered reaching out to halt her, but decided that he valued his arm too much.
"Faith!" he called out as he followed after her. "Please stop," he requested more calmly when he'd caught up.
She did stop, but she didn't immediately turn around to face him. She stood for a moment with her back rigid before spinning around.
"What's your game?" she demanded. "What kind of sick, twisted, head-trips are you selling?"
"There's no game," Sam assured her gently. "I swear… just, please listen to me for a minute."
"I'm listening," she said flatly, but judging by her posture, she wasn't very open to the experience.
Sam sighed and tried to gather his thoughts. "I just don't think this is a very good idea," he finally said.
"Why?" she asked tightly.
"Look what happened last time," he explained in a reasonable tone.
"Which last time? The one where you threw my offer back in my face or the one where I didn't stay around to hold your hand in the morning? I've gotta say, you're an awfully big guy to be such a whiny little bitch!" she spat. "What the hell do you want from me?"
Sam felt his anger beginning to rise. He was sexually frustrated, he was tired, he was sore from the fight, and now he was getting shoved around and cursed at. It was all a little too much.
"I can't have what I want from you!" he yelled back at her.
Faith just stared back at him looking stunned. When she didn't reply, Sam kept going.
"Let's count the ways I'm screwed," he said bitterly. "Number one, we do this, it's great, then you take off the minute you wake up… or even if you do stick around and take me for a few more spins, you'll blow town the minute this crisis is over. I know you don't live here full time. You're only here because boatloads of shit have hit the fan."
"Sam –" Faith said, sounding a little less angry.
"No," he cut her off sharply. "I'm not even close to being done."
"Okaaay"
"On the other hand," he continued, "I guess it's always possible that we could actually have a real relationship, but then - BOOM - my head explodes, out of the blue, and you're left with either a dead man or a drooling invalid. I've caused enough destruction in this world; I'm not signing on for more."
"Huh?"
"Haven't you heard? I'm the antichrist!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Faith asked with her brows drawn together in confusion.
"You remember all that freaky weather and the mass extinctions about a year and a half ago? That was courtesy of yours truly. I decided it would be fun to let Satan out of his cage to play. I managed to put him back, but unfortunately that required me tossing myself into the pit. So fine, I got what I deserved," he shrugged. "Then that demon dickhead Crowley pulls me out of hell, but he decides it would be a little more convenient for him if I didn't have my pesky soul. A hunter without a soul makes a damn good employee if you're a homicidal sadist, by the way." He paused for a minute before finishing. "I finally got my soul back, thanks to another one of Dean's crazy, kamikaze stunts, but now I don't remember anything about the year I spent running around soulless or the year my soul spent being Lucifer's personal bitch! If I remember that part, my brain will probably melt. So yeah, I'm a little pissed off!"
"Bullshit," Faith said. It was the only word she could come up with at the moment.
"Oh yeah? You think so? Well, why don't you go ask Dean? He might tell you if you beat on him for a while. But then again, I'm sure you'll get the heavily edited, safe-for-TV version. The one where poor little Sammy gets his head spun and doesn't know what he's doing. That's partly true, but I'll let you in on a little secret – I was also a power-hungry dick! So no, I can't have mind-blowing sex with you. I can't have anything. So lay off me!"
Faith stared at him for a moment with her mouth open. She didn't know where to begin. She knew what it was like to be the cause of other people's misery. That was some guilt she could identify with. But this was Sam for God's sake! And this entire story was absolutely insane. It just didn't make sense. There was no way that she could picture him being the monster he was selling himself to be and she was one suspicious bitch.
"Sam, this is crazy," she began.
"You're right," he said. "It's complete bullshit. I made up this entire story so I could fuck with your head. I know it seems a little overly complex, but I'm an evil genius. That's what we do. We come up with ridiculously intricate plots when there are much simpler solutions."
Sam started to walk away and Faith called after him, "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to bed," he snapped. "Evil geniuses need sleep too. I need to be freshly rested if I plan to take over the world tomorrow. I might watch some porn too," he added. "I'm pretty sure us evil guys like porn."
Faith let him go. Her head was spinning a little too much at the moment. Man, did this not turn out like she'd planned. She needed to think. Everything he'd dropped on her was a lot to digest, but even so, the fact that he was apparently that into her was what had her thrown the most. It kind of made her happy, but it also scared the living hell out of her. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.
XXXXXXXXXX
Buffy had spent the past hour or more anxiously listening for the sound of the Impala's engine. Dean had called earlier that afternoon and asked if he could see her. The conversation had been a little awkward on both sides, but there had been no yelling or cross words, so she was considering it a success. He'd told her he'd probably be at her house around six that evening, so she'd been at home and waiting on the edge of her seat since four-thirty. Thankfully, he was right on time, because she wasn't sure her nerves could've taken much more waiting. Despite her excitement, she forced herself to sit still when she heard the rumble of the engine idling out front. She was hoping this was going to turn out well, but she knew that her disappointment would be even greater if she allowed herself to get too optimistic.
When she answered the door, she was struck by how exhausted Dean looked. He had a five o'clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes, but he was still the best looking man she'd ever seen. He smiled at her and she felt her heart skip a beat. He didn't attempt to touch her though and when she offered him a seat, he chose the recliner rather than sitting beside her on the couch. She tried not to take that too personally since this was an awkward situation for both of them. When she noticed he was holding a plastic shopping bag that had a drawing of a colorful psychedelic mushroom on one side and a marijuana leaf on the other, she decided to try and lighten the mood with a little joking.
"Did you bring me drugs?" she asked.
"No," he said as he held up the bag, "unfortunately, what's in here isn't that much fun." The bag made a solid thud as he dropped it on the coffee table and Buffy leaned forward to curiously peer inside.
"What is it?" she asked as she cautiously reached into the bag.
"Proof of my extreme paranoia."
Buffy pulled out a handful of identical necklaces and held them up in front of her. Each had a pendant suspended from a plain, black, leather cord. When she examined the pendant more closely, she realized that she recognized the symbol.
"This is your tattoo," she observed in a surprised tone. "They're anti-possession charms… lots of anti-possession charms. Are these the reason you went to Vegas?" she asked curiously.
"Yeah, Bobby knows this old hippie guy that specializes in that sorta thing. Well, that and ginormous water bongs. Anyway, I know they're not the height of fashion, but I was hoping you and all the other ladies would wear one. You're friends too. There should be more than enough for everybody… even squirrely-dude," he added with a smirk. "That guy's twitchy enough when he's not possessed."
"Do you really think we need these?" she asked, gazing at him searchingly. "I thought we'd all agreed that exorcisms were out this year. Is there something I don't know?" she questioned, trying hard not to sound like she was making an accusation.
"No," he replied with a shake of his head, "as far as I know, all of that was just a figment of my twisted imagination. But still, I'd feel a whole lot better if everybody wore one just in case. I figured it might be kinda tough to convince you all to get tats, so this was the best I could come up with. You think you can get the gang to humor me?"
"I will," Buffy assured him. "I don't claim to understand what this is all about, but since you went all the way to Vegas, I think the least we can do is wear them. Anyways, I guess you can never overdo it with the protection stuff."
"Thanks," he said, sounding greatly relieved. He regarded her seriously for a moment before continuing. "Buffy, I want you to know that I'd never intentionally put you or anybody you care about in danger. I never would've forgiven myself if something had happened."
"Dean -" she began, intending to assure him that she realized that.
"Please," he said, cutting her off. "Just let me get this out. If I don't do it now, I might never get the nerve up again. So please, hear me out before you say anything. That's all I'm asking."
There was a hint of vulnerability in Dean's voice that Buffy had never heard before, so she quietly assured him that she was listening and then waited a long moment for him to begin speaking.
Once he finally got started, Dean told her almost everything. Well, technically he mostly told the wall and the coffee table in front of him. He spilled nearly the entire sordid tale of the Winchester family's history with demons. Starting with his mom and Yellow Eyes and ending with Sam getting his soul back. He laid out over a quarter century of the severely fucked-up saga that was his life. But, he did gloss over some of the less flattering aspects of Sam's part in all of it and he didn't tell her about his tour in hell. The stuff about Sam was between him and his brother and, as far as hell went, he knew there was no way he could tell her about the things he'd done down there. If he didn't tell her that part of it, she'd paint him as the victim and he couldn't play that charade. It was too big of a lie, even for the great con-man Dean Winchester.
Buffy listened quietly like he'd asked. The whole deal with the non-pocalypse and the angels made her head spin and the idea of a soulless Sam was just beyond comprehension - and she was one girl who had a lot of experience with that sort of thing. She kept all of her questions to herself, however. She didn't want to interrupt him since she was pretty sure that if she did, it would break the steely resolve he had going. The story itself was tragic enough, but the way he told it completely broke her heart. It wasn't that he cried or anything, in fact he showed very little emotion at all. It was as if all of it had happened to someone else and he was just repeating it second hand. He even threw in quite a bit of gallows humor in some places. Buffy wasn't fooled for one second. She knew that all of it was enormously painful and that sharing this with her was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
"So that's the gist of it," he said in conclusion. "I'm not gonna lie to you, there's some even uglier stuff that went down, but I just can't go there," he said earnestly, actually meeting her eyes for the first time since he'd begun telling the story. "Those are things I have to deal with on my own and I can't talk about it. Not to anyone. But I promise you I've told you everything I know about Crowley and Purgatory. I honestly don't know why he even cared about the place. Demons don't normally give a rat's ass about the rest of the supernatural world. Maybe the bastard was just running out of room in hell."
"Oh God, Dean," Buffy began, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Just give me one more minute," he asked. "I need to finish this and then you can make your call one way or the other." Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "I know I didn't have a good excuse to keep you in the dark. The truth is, I only did it because I couldn't even admit to myself that I might have to deal with demons again. I know that's lame and I'm sure as hell not proud of it. Still, I promise you that if they do come, I'll fight them. No matter what happens between us, I wouldn't leave you to deal with that mess on your own." He paused for a moment before saying, "But I want us to be together if you'll still have me. You should know that I've never been happier anywhere in my life than I've been here with you. I know there's no way I could ever deserve you and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted me to get as far away from you as possible, especially after all the craziness I just laid on you. So," he shrugged, "I know it's probably not the best offer you'll ever get, but I had to take a shot. It's a damn good thing I'm so good looking," he added with a trace of his trademark cocky smile.
Buffy didn't know if Dean was finished or not, but she'd heard enough to make her decision. She launched herself into his arms and pulled him into a deep kiss before he could get another word out. In response, he held her so tightly that she could barely breathe, but she didn't care, because right now she couldn't get close enough to him.
Finally, she managed to pull herself away from his kiss long enough to speak. "Dean," she said as she drew back and looked into his eyes, "That stuff you said about not deserving me… I'm not perfect you know. I mean really not perfect. There've been some times when I didn't like myself very much and I've done some things I'm not proud of. And believe me, there are parts of my past that you're not going to like very much. In fact, you might completely wig."
"I'm not worried about it," he said seriously. "I'm not trying to play the one-up game here, but I'm sure there's nothing you've done or seen that can even come close to my crap. So, unless you're the real reason Zeppelin hasn't done a reunion tour, I think we're good."
"Then we're safe," Buffy grinned, "because I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear on that one. Especially since I'm not even sure I can name one of their songs."
"Oh, come on! You're kidding me. How about Stairway to Heaven? Even posers know that one."
"That's Zeppelin?"
Dean tightened his grip on her and pretended like he was about to rise from his seat with her. "That's it! I'm locking your little ass in the Impala and you're not getting out until you've listened to the entire collection. I can't believe you have no appreciation for classic rock."
"I do too," she disagreed. "I like ABBA. Have you ever seen Mama Mia?"
"We're done," he announced, "I have to draw a line somewhere."
"Too late," she giggled as she laid her head on his shoulder. "You already gave me a free pass. I can sing show tunes everywhere we go and you'll be completely powerless to stop me. In fact, I think I'll force you to give me a standing ovation."
Dean snorted his disagreement with that plan and then they both sat quietly for a while, just enjoying the feeling of being back in each other's company.
"Seriously," Buffy said, breaking the silence. "I feel like I should tell you some things. I don't want our pasts to cause any more drama between us. I can't go through this again."
"Why don't you tell me later? I've had enough of 'this is your jacked-up life' for one day. I'm honestly not worried about it anyway. Besides, I have other plans for the evening," he added as he grinned and squeezed her tighter.
"Can those other plans wait until we've slept for a few hours?" she asked hopefully. "I don't know about you, but I feel like I haven't had a decent night's sleep in years. I just want to crawl into bed with you and sink into a deep, deep coma. I'll make it worth your while… A freshly rested Slayer can do all sorts of neat tricks," she promised.
"Yeah, I guess we can do that," he relented with a heavy sigh of disappointment, although honestly he thought that sounded like a damn good plan. He hadn't slept more than a few hours a night since they'd had their falling out and those had been heavily alcohol induced. At the moment, he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do than just hold her while she slept. But still, he wasn't planning on admitting to anything like that out loud. He'd done enough sharing and caring today to put a severe ding in his dude status. Besides, he still had another massively un-Dean-like task to take care of - the one that involved him actually giving jewelry to a woman.
"I got you something else from old Rainbow Dave," he said casually as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the small box the old hippie had hooked him up with. He'd decided that the guy wasn't half-bad if you could get past the freaky name and the patchouli smell.
Buffy perked up curiously. She couldn't begin to imagine what Dean could've possibly gotten for her at a hippie store. She was more than surprised when he placed what was obviously a jewelry box in her hands. Almost cautiously, she opened the lid and then stopped and stared in awe at the contents. He'd actually gotten her jewelry. Jewelry that was both feminine and completely suited to her life. It was so thoughtful and such a perfect gift for her. Slayer bling usually came in the form of sharp, deadly objects, not delicate and beautiful works of art. She was stunned. She'd never dreamed he would give her anything like this.
Dean wasn't sure how to read her reaction. He couldn't tell if she was pleased or disappointed. "It's a bracelet," he said, immediately realizing that was just about the stupidest thing that had ever come out of his mouth. "A charm bracelet," he added quickly. "They're protection charms. I realize it's not new, but it's the genuine article. Since you're the head Slayer and obviously the hottest, I thought you deserved a little extra protection."
Buffy stared silently at her gift for a few more moments. When she finally looked up at Dean, she had tears streaming down her face.
"Oh damn," he said. "That wasn't how I pictured this going down. I'm so sorry baby, I didn't think… I mean… Please, don't do that," he begged. He smoothed her hair back from her face and tried to wipe some of her tears away with his hand. He looked completely lost.
Buffy started giggling through her tears and wiping at her wet cheeks with the hand that wasn't still busy clutching on to her gift. "It's okay," she assured him. "I love it. It's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever given me. Now put it on," she ordered, holding the box out toward him.
Dean lifted the bracelet out of the box and proceeded to attempt to fasten it around the wrist she'd held out to him. It took him a minute because the clasp was obviously not mean for a man's fingers, plus he was still pretty thrown by her reaction.
When he was done, Buffy held up her arm and inspected the charms for another long moment. "Thank you," she said as she gave him a rather salty kiss. "I'll never take it off."
"Good," he said, still sounding baffled. "Because, to tell you the truth, I'd planned on this getting me out of the dog house, not under it. You're kinda freaky."
"So are you," she replied with a smile. "Now let's go to bed."
XXXXXXXXXX
The 'sleep first, sex later' plan didn't exactly pan out. Once they were in bed, one kiss had led to another and the nap had been postponed. It wasn't the most athletic or fiery encounter they'd ever had, but Buffy decided that it couldn't have been more perfect, and that wasn't just because she was tired and he was doing most of the work.
Dean had made love to her. There was simply no other term for it. It was slow and tender and his only goal seemed to be getting closer to her. It was the moment when everything clicked into place for her. This thing between them was right. She'd finally found something that fit. With Angel, his curse and the nature of his immortality had kept him from ever giving her what she really needed. It was the reason he'd left. She'd known that, but this was the first time she'd ever truly understood it. She'd thought she'd found it with Riley, but there had always been a wedge between them. For years, she'd blamed herself for that, but now she realized there was really no one to blame. They'd been from different worlds and they'd needed different things.
Dean wasn't threatened by her in the way Riley had been. She believed that was because he understood that this life wasn't about who was the strongest or who got the most kills. He teased her about that sort of thing, but in the end, they both knew that it wasn't a contest. The only goal was to survive and to try to hold on to the people you loved, even when it seemed like the world was determined to rip all of them away. Unlike her ex, Dean hadn't chosen this life. It had been chosen for him, just like it had been chosen for her. Both of them had lost everything to it and both of them loved it and hated it in equal parts. Most importantly, neither of them knew any other way to be. That was why she knew she'd be able to open herself up to him in a way that she'd never been able to do with Riley. She'd finally met her equal and she was finally able to admit to herself that she was deeply in love with him. She'd danced around that word, using every euphemism she could scrape up, mostly because she was scared of the implications. But she couldn't hide from it anymore and at that moment she was sure that he loved her too. Of course, she was Buffy, the girl of the massive baggage. She knew her insecurities would creep back up on her and she'd never be satisfied until he actually said those three words out loud, but at least for the moment she was secure.
A voice in the back of her head was telling her that something else was happening here, but she didn't know what that could possibly mean. It wasn't a scary voice, but it seemed to want her to recognize something - something significant, something she'd seen somewhere before. It was clearly just the crazy talk of a brain that had been way too overtaxed lately. She was tuning it out, the babbling Buffy-brain needed to hush. She was too busy concentrating on her perfect moment.