I know I said there would be a long wait, but I'm uploading this instead of studying. Hooray for hiding from responsibility! I have been so terribly stressed the last week and this kinda helped alleviate some of that, so hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did.

Thank you all for your kind words and reviews! It seriously makes every shitty day better to see that you are enjoying the story! I am so grateful to each and every one of you!

I hope I still have my regular followers for this, and I hope that the sporadic updates aren't too terribly frustrating. Thank you to those who have stuck with me! This time there definitely won't be another update until after I finish my midterms. See ya then loves!

Chapter Six – Torn and Frayed

Buffy exhaled deeply as she walked through the cemetery, almost sure she would be able to see her breath. She pulled her sweater closer to her form as she felt the chill of the night caress her skin. It was cooler than she would have expected, and it was nothing more than a sign that summer was over and that fall had taken root. California was never what you could call "cold," but right now she would be hard pressed to call it "warm" either. Her patrol had been rather uneventful so far, as evidenced by her inner monologue about the weather, and she was bored. It had been about a week since Hallowe'en and the creatures seemed to still be keeping a low profile. She had been out each night for weeks before Hallowe'en, and for the week or so after, and hadn't seen more than one or two vampires the entire time. Part of her thought that maybe it was because they were hiding after those vampires came out on Hallowe'en, which was apparently a big no-no. Part of her hoped that it was because they knew she was home, but that was unlikely. It was more likely that there was some new player in town, or some different evil coming. That was the hellmouth for ya, never a dull moment.

Even still, Buffy would have thought something was ready to step up and tumble with her right now. Ever since she had been home she had found herself needing the fight. Needing the hunt. This was her solace. This was the only way she kept going. She had died to protect her sister, but it was still because of the Slayer life that she had died. It was the Slayer's life that had caused her to be brought back to life, because she was still needed here. Her friends still needed her. Now, after all the agony it had caused her over the years, after spending all her time wishing she wasn't a Slayer, it was her life as the Slayer that was keeping her grounded. When she was fighting, all those feelings of being lost, like she didn't belong here, all those feelings of being disconnected seemed to fall away. Everything fell away until all that was left was the job in front of her, the job she had been designed to do. Slaying made sense. She knew what was expected of her here, and she knew how to do this job. Buffy didn't have to doubt any part of this. It was kinda funny, this life was saving her after it had damned her. Who would have thought?

Her boredom started to sink in, and she found herself lazily meandering between the rows of tombstones. It was dangerous to let her guard down, that much she knew. No matter what, she would remain vigilant. She kept her eyes carefully scanning between the tombstones, looking for movement or for fresh soil. She kept her ears trained for any sound that might tip her off to some beastie that needed to be slayed. The only sound she ended up hearing was that of her cellphone's muffled ringing from her pocket.

She fumbled with the phone, trying to silence it to keep her location concealed from anything that may be lurking in the cemetery with her, even if the evidence was overwhelming that she was, in fact, alone. Her face broke out into a wide smile when she saw the number splashed across the screen.

"Dean! How are ya?" Buffy continued her saunter through the grounds.

"Hey Buffy. I'm uh, I'm alright, how 'bout you?"

"Good!"

Her answer had become as common as breathing for her by now. It didn't matter if it was true or if it was a cover for whatever was really going on in her head. All that mattered was that she delivered the line on time and in the right tone. That way no one would question it. No one would even pay attention to it. It had been like that since she came back, even with Dean. He may be the one person that didn't need to hear that everything was okay, but her answer happened without even thinking. Most days he had called her on it, to which she would give him the truth about what was going on. She would tell him about which bill she had received the last notice for, what note came home with Dawn from school that day, or whatever else was going wrong. Buffy held her breath, waiting for him to call 'bullshit,' but tonight something was different. He had remained quiet after she spoke. She thought about what Dean had said, about the tone in his voice as he had spoken.

She furrowed her brow, "what's up? You have 'something' voice. I'm sure if I could see you, you'd have 'something' face too."

Dean laughed wryly, "what does that mean?"

"You called for a reason Dean, and it's because something is buggin' you. I can hear the difference between a happy call and a distraction call."

Dean was stunned by what she had said. How was it that she could pick up on the difference in his voice? As far as she knew, they had only been talking for a couple of weeks, and she could already read him. He supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised, even in Purgatory Buffy had been able to pick apart anything he said, every nuance in his expressions. Dean figured it was a Slayer thing, but he wasn't sure. Maybe she simply understood him better than he had realized. Or maybe Cas hadn't completely erased the connection the two hunters had. Whatever the reason, she was completely right. As much as he loved calling her just to talk to her, to hear her voice, there was a reason he called this time. The comfort that he found in their phone calls was sorely needed right now.

"Sammy and I just wrapped up a case. It uh, hit me a little harder than I'd have liked," Dean spoke quietly, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear what he was saying. Like he didn't want anyone to hear his vulnerability.

"What happened?" Buffy knew that feeling all too well, and it was hard to let those cases go.

Dean took a deep breath. It was one thing admitting that there was something bothering him, it was another entirely to actually talk about it. Before, when they were in Purgatory, he wouldn't have hesitated in the least. The reminder that things were different now was constantly present in their phone calls. It was like a freshly opened wound that kept getting poked and prodded. Actually, he wasn't entirely sure which scenario felt worse.

The thought entered Dean's mind to shrug it off, tell Buffy not to worry about it. Tell her he would be fine. Tell her that just talking to her would improve the situation. It wasn't a complete lie; just hearing Buffy's voice had helped to put him at ease. Dean shot a glance back to the motel room that Sam and he and found for the night. The light had just turned off, meaning that Sammy was finally sinking into bed. It was a relief to know that his brother was at least trying to get some rest, and as much as Dean would like to be doing the same, he knew there was no chance for him.

Instead, Dean was seated inside the Impala, listening to the rain hit the windshield, on the phone with the only person other than Sam that Dean would ever want to talk to about this last case. The idea of changing the subject left his mind as quickly as it had entered. Simply hearing Buffy's voice had already done wonders, but he needed more than that if he hoped to get any sort of rest tonight.

"We caught a case in Wyoming. Bunch of high school girls had gone missing and parts of them were being found in the gutters throughout town," Dean started.

Buffy grimaced at the description, "sounds terrible. I hate cases where parts of people are found. It's never a good sign."

"Definitely not. Which is why we were on it as soon as we saw the case pop up. We spent a week trying to find whatever creature was using this town as it's hunting grounds. We went after leads for days trying to get ahead of it, spent hours in research mode trying to find anything that fit the MO," Dean explained. He paused before continuing, "There ended up being seventeen victims, nine of which happened while we were in town," Dean's voice trailed off as it cracked.

"Oh god, Dean. I'm so sorry."

Buffy knew how it felt to lose people. She knew what it was like to feel like the deaths should have been prevented. That she should have done more, been better, made it there faster. To know that she should have stopped it. She knew what it was like to wear the blame. Buffy had to live in a town where every single obituary with 'strange circumstances' was her fault in one way or another. She lived in a town where death piled up all around her, and she wasn't even sure she was making a difference. Buffy lived in a town of guilt.

When Dean had first told her that he took cases all across the country she had envied him. He never had to stay and deal with the aftermath. He didn't have to see the parents grieving, the friends weeping. He didn't have to see the fear and uncertainty on the faces of the townsfolk. He didn't see memorials being erected all over town, or empty caskets being buried when the remains had been unfound. He didn't have to pass the tombstone each night, read their names over and over again. Dean didn't know the victims personally. Each name Buffy read, she could put a face to. Mark from math class. Elaine from the bank. Oliver, the guy that bought her coffee on campus. Dean dealt with people that would be nameless and faceless long before he caught wind of another case. He didn't have to stay and put the victims down and then kill them a second time, when they rose from the grave. He didn't get reminded every single day of his failures.

Dean got to blow town, and not have to face the failed cases like she did. Now she realized how terrible her envy had been, how wrong she had been. Just because he didn't have to stay and see it, didn't mean it didn't mark him. Dean was just as devastated by the losses of life as she always was. Those names, those faces, they stayed in his mind haunting him, just like she had ghosts too. He got to carry those people with him just as much as she did. She could hear it in his voice now as he spoke, the weight of his words settled hard on her. If anyone could understand the pain he was feeling because of a case's casualties, it was her.

Dean was barely able to choke out the words, "it was human."

"What was?"

"The monster we were hunting. It was a human."

Buffy felt the weight of that statement practically knock the air out of her lungs. She had dealt with her fair share of cases where it ended up just being some horrible person that was behind the chaos. It was unbearable to see what some people did to each other. There was nothing he could do if the killer was human. Being a Slayer, being a hunter, it wasn't a license to kill. No matter how much the human was like a monster, Dean had to walk away. Walking away was so much harder than not being able to find the monster at all. She flashed back to high school, when the cheerleaders were being hunted and used to build the 'perfect girl' for some kid's dead brother. She flashed back to Marcie, tortured by the kids at school, taking her own revenge. She flashed back to all the pain and chaos the Mayor had caused. It was a lot to handle all at once. She found herself sitting down on the edge of a tombstone, suddenly needing a minute to rest.

"The sick son of a bitch was hunting girls because he couldn't get a date. Seventeen girls before we found him. And we couldn't even fucking touch him! Cops said the evidence wasn't solid enough. They let the bastard go," the pain and anger was clear in Dean's voice.

"Dean you did what you could. It's never easy, but it's just a part of this life that we had to accept."

That was nowhere near as comforting as she wanted it to be, but she had no idea what else to say. Sure, Buffy could assure him that it wasn't his fault, but he wouldn't hear her. She could tell him to stop beating himself up, but she knew that it wouldn't make a difference. What else could she say? Dean had never shown this type of emotion to her, and it caught her off guard. Buffy had no idea what to do. Her need to fix the problem was defeated by her loss of words.

"Ya well, this life really sucks," Dean growled.

"Sometimes it's all you have, though," her voice was small and delicate, the complete opposite of Dean's growl.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing, just sometimes, as dark as it is, it can be light, too," she tried to shrug it off.

"Buffy? That's not some general statement. What's the matter?"

Trying to convince him that it was, indeed, just a general statement was an idea that crossed her mind. She could tell Dean that it was something Giles had taught her, or that it was some 'darkest before dawn' bullshit. With anyone else, Buffy probably would have gone that route, but with Dean it would never work. He would pick it apart immediately.

"Just uh, patrolling…slaying…It's the only thing that really makes sense," Buffy started swinging her feet as she spoke. "It's simple. Easy. Everything else is just so hard, and complicated. It's been harder since I came back because…" Buffy stopped herself before she said too much, knowing full well that she may have already crossed over that line.

"Because what? Talk to me here, Buff," Dean hoped that she felt comfortable enough to talk to him. They had been talking for only a few weeks now, but he could hear the agony in her voice. He wanted to do something to help. Anything. "I just showed a pretty raw side of me here, your turn."

He tried to joke a bit with it, mostly to try and hide his own embarrassment for how he had started to fall apart. After everything, Dean knew he could talk to Buffy about whatever was happening, but that was in Purgatory. That was when they had history. It was different now, and confiding in her didn't feel as easy as it used to. If he was being honest, he was mostly trying to hide his concern for her. Dean had been waiting for this moment. For his chance to hear her admit it; he had the chance to help.

"Please?" He pleaded.

While Dean waited to hear what she had to say, Buffy stopped to think about telling Dean the truth. The only one she had told the truth to so far was Spike. None of her friends could ever know what they had done; what they had cost her. Buffy had hoped that saying it out loud, even if it was to a set of dead ears, would give her some sort of peace. It hadn't. Buffy had had no intention of ever telling Dean the truth, she had already decided that her act would be kept up for him too. The problem with that was that she had learned soon, for whatever reason, she couldn't lie to Dean. He always seemed to know when she wasn't telling the truth, and he called her on it every single time. Buffy might have been annoyed if it wasn't kind of nice to have someone understand her, even when she was trying to hide. As much as she felt like keeping the truth to herself, Buffy was tired. She was tired of lying. She was tired of the fake smile. She was just so tired.

"Because I was in heaven," Buffy spat the words out quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. "I was in heaven, and now I'm not. I'm here. I'm here and I have to live every single day knowing what I had. What I lost."

The sound of pain in Buffy's voice shot straight through to Dean's heart. He knew from experience that returning from the dead was difficult. It was hard to readjust to the world after being six feet under, and a lot of emotions came with that. Dean remembered how disconnected he felt for the first year that he was back. How lost he felt. He never admitted it to Sam, but it took months before he had felt like he was truly back. He had felt like a ghost, wandering through the world, not really here but not really gone either. If anyone was going to understand the feelings that Buffy had been dealing with, it was Dean.

It wasn't just the feelings of being disconnected and being lost that she was dealing with, though. Buffy thought she had been ripped out of paradise. She had to deal with feeling like she had lost her chance at true happiness, and she had to turn her back on heaven. Coming back from Hell was a goddamn gift for Dean. He couldn't imagine trying to make his life work again if had come back to the darkness, if he had been removed from heaven. How could anyone live in this world, in the chaos and violence, after being at peace? It was astounding to Dean that she was coping as well as she was. That she had been able to keep up the act as long as she had.

Except she wasn't actually at peace. It was all fabricated. It was all lies built in her memory to block out the horrors that she had seen. It was to repair the damage that Purgatory had done. Cas had done this to her. Cas wanted the Slayer to have the afterlife she had deserved, not the one she got. He was unable to stop Buffy from being brought back, and he had been unable to save her from Purgatory; this was all he could do. Dean knew that Cas had meant well. He always meant well, but it was misguided once again. Buffy was suffering now, and it was because she thought she had been ripped out of heaven. The devastation that Dean felt when he heard Buffy's pain was nothing compared to the rage he had building in his gut towards Cas. How could he have done this to her? Didn't he know what it would do? How could he think that losing heaven was better than living through Purgatory? Buffy was strong, she was resilient. She could have coped with those cracks and breaks, couldn't she?

Dean cleared his throat, finding it suddenly dry. All the thoughts running through his head, and he couldn't verbalize even one of them. He had to select what he was going to say carefully, so he didn't interfere with the memories that had been built. The only thing worse than thinking you had been removed from heaven, was finding out that someone had made you feel that way. That someone you trusted had been helping to keep that a secret. If there was a time to undo Cas' work, now was not it. Right now, he needed to do anything but that.

"Heaven?" Dean croaked at last.

Buffy fought to breathe. Her hands had started to shake and her chest felt heavy. She still wasn't sure she wanted to tell Dean the truth, but it was too late now. Those words were out there and there was no taking them back. She was scared to keep talking, but she was even more afraid to stop now. It was finally going to be out in the open, and not just to dead ears. Someone would finally understand. She wouldn't be alone on her own personal battlefield anymore. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, Buffy gained control of her breathing and slowed the shaking of her body.

Her voice came out small again, "yeah. I made it to heaven, or at least I think I did. Wherever I was it was safe and warm. It was good and calm. It was everything I could have ever hoped for. I was done finally, and that was my reward…but now I'm here."

"God, Buffy…" Dean struggled to find any words he could string together right now.

"I wish I could be grateful for being back, but it's just too hard. Knowing that it was my friends that did this, who ripped me out…"

"They couldn't have known," Dean rolled his eyes, frustrated that that was the best he could come up with.

Buffy's lip quivered, "I know. They thought they were saving me, and I keep telling myself that. I could never resent them, but it doesn't make it any easier."

All Dean wanted to do was yell and scream that they had saved her. That they had pulled her back from the only place that rivaled Hell in the torture it bestowed on people. Dean had been to both Hell and Purgatory, and he honestly couldn't decide which fate had been worse. Her friends deserved to be awarded for saving Buffy; they were bloody saints. As far as Dean was concerned, each and every one of them deserved a place in heaven. Even the witch.

"I can't imagine what you're going through."

"No one can. I wish I could put it into words, but I don't know how," her voice started to tremble as she spoke, "honestly I feel like I'm dying all over again. Every moment. Every day. I feel like I'm dead inside."

Dean could feel his heart cracking with every word that Buffy spoke. He would have never imagined how much she was suffering because of what she thought she lost. He had never completely agreed with Cas; decision, but he had never realized just what had been done. Dean was now regretting not doing more to convince Cas otherwise. No matter how terrible Purgatory had been, could it be worse than what she was feeling now? Could the horrors of that place be worse than feeling like you were still dead?

"I feel like I'm hardly here, Dean," she was sobbing freely now, "like a part of me is missing. Like I left something behind when I... when I came back."

Dean took notice of what she had said. Like something was missing. He knew there was something missing, there was actually a lot missing. There were memories and experiences that no longer existed for her. There were gaps and black spots in her mind. He wanted to hope that maybe he was that something left behind, but that was a pretty big assumption. God, he just wanted to tell her that she was right. Dean wasn't sure it would offer any sort of comfort, but maybe knowing that she wasn't crazy would be able to help her.

"I may not know what it's like completely, but I do know what it's like to come back from an afterlife."

"What?" the small voice sniffled through the other end of the phone.

Dean took a deep breath, "I took a trip to Hell a few years back. I had to claw my way through my grave too. It's not the same, I know that but-"

"You were in Hell?" Buffy asked, her voice straining again. "How is that…you couldn't have deserved that…"

"I was. I made a deal with a demon to save my brother."

"A deal?"

Dean nodded, "my soul for his life. I'd do it again if Sam needs me to."

A panic swept through her system and she felt like a set of claws had dug into her heart. The tombstone on which she sat no longer offered the support she needed, and so she sunk down to the ground, barely able to keep herself from collapsing.

Buffy's voice was shrill, "no! You can't go. Don't you say that!"

"Hey, hey, I'm not going anywhere. It's okay." he soothed.

Buffy let out a breath. She hadn't expected that amount of panic, and she felt almost silly expressing it, but she couldn't have helped herself. Talking to Dean was the only part of her day where she felt even remotely alive. He was her only relief, and she couldn't imagine her life without him right now. She couldn't say it was exactly healthy, only being able to confide in someone who was just a voice on the phone, but she figured it was better than finding release in the bottom of a flask. More than she could understand, more than she could express, Buffy needed him.

"What was it like, where you were?" Dean asked, trying to get on a calmer topic.

Buffy paused a moment before answering, "it was better than anything I could have ever hoped for. There was no fear, no pain. It was quiet and comfortable. I didn't have to worry about anything. I didn't have to fight. I could be just me. I don't remember everything, but I think that my Mom was there. I knew everyone I loved was safe and taken care of. It was the relief that we all wish for at the end of this messed up life..." Buffy's voice trailed off. She stumbled over her words as she started to speak again, "what... what was Hell like?"

Dean didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want to answer that.

"Worse," was all he could muster.

"Oh..."

"It was dark, and violent. It was chains and torture, not the fire and brimstone you hear about. It was lonely and brutal, and every day I wished for a death that would never come," Dean choked on his words as he spoke. "When I came back I was more than relieved to be free of that place, to have been saved."

They had both died. It took Buffy a second to wrap her head around this new information. The thought of Dean being dead was somehow unsettling to her, like it just didn't quite make sense. A Slayer coming back to life was farfetched enough as it was, but a human? Hunter or not, Dean was still human. Still, it was comforting to know that someone else had made that journey back from the dead. Her gut instinct had been right about him; he did understand and he did care.

Dean continued, "Look, I don't know what it's like to be pulled from somewhere good, but I do know that feeling you're talking about."

The whole time Dean had spoken Buffy had kept quiet. It was hard to envision the world that Dean described, and it made her feel guilty for complaining about the cards she had been dealt. She at least went somewhere good and safe. She hadn't seen the horrors that Dean had, that her friends thought she had. Then again, it sounded a lot like what she felt like she was living in now.

"Which?"

"Like a part of you was left behind. I felt like a part of my soul have been ripped out and it was lying on the killing room floor down there. I felt – "

"Fractured?" She interjected.

"Mhm. Kinda like I was split into pieces, and not all of them had made it back."

"Like you were you, but not the you that you were before?" Buffy reasoned in her own 'Buffy-speak.'

"Yeah, somethin' like that," he smirked.

These were the things he never told Sam. He had never told Cas either, but he had his suspicions that Cas knew the mess he had been in. If Dean had had it his way, he would have never told anyone about that part. Things were different now, though. Now he hoped that it would do some good for her to know that someone got it. Not just someone, but he did. He understood her right now. He could be there for her.

"And about not really being here," he continued. "For a long time I felt like a ghost here. It was hard to connect to this world; to find a way to live here again. It's like being a foreigner in your own world."

"In your own skin…"

Buffy was doing everything she could to keep herself together right now. She couldn't have imagined how good it would feel to hear that someone could understand what she was going through right now. That someone else had been where she was. Dean had made it through the same misery she now found herself in. It felt like there may finally be a light at the end of the tunnel, and not just another train.

"There's just so much to sort through in your own head," Dean continued.

"Trying to figure out what's real. What isn't. Memory flashes from when you were…dead."

"It was excruciating, ya know, to know what I had gone through in hell. I had wished I couldn't feel a damn thing," Dean admitted. That he had said before, but it was just as hard to say this time as it had been when he told Sam.

"Honestly, all I want is to be able to feel. I just want to feel alive. Or even just like me again."

Dean fought to find something to say, some words to offer her. There was nothing he could do to make this any better right now, and it was killing him. His whole life, Dean had been the one to fix things; that was what he did. Now when it really mattered, he was useless. The worst part was knowing that he was keeping something from her. Dean didn't know if her knowing the truth would help at all, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he should be at least trying it. He did take solace in the fact that he seemed to be helping, even a little bit. Beyond showing her that he understood, he was building that trust again, just like he had in Purgatory. Their similar circumstances had brought them together in that world, and now they were doing the same thing. Dean would have preferred it be some other sort of circumstance, like both wanting a dog as a child or loving the same song, but he'd take this over nothing any day.

Dean swallowed hard before speaking, "I wish there was something I could do Buff. Something I could say to make any of this better."

"It's okay. There's not a lot you can say. I'll be okay."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, skeptically.

Buffy shrugged, "I'll have to be, won't I? There's no other option." Buffy sighed, "Slayers don't have options."

Dean silently vowed to find a way to fix this. In a situation as hopeless as Purgatory, she had been able to help him. She saved him. He never would have made it out of there without her. Dean wasn't ready to admit this to himself, let alone anyone else, but deep down he knew that he would have given up without her. Purgatory would have been enough to break him, to break his spirit. After that happened, he knew that he wouldn't have survived much longer. That little blonde had been his fucking saviour. She was his guiding light, and if he didn't know better he may have thought that God himself had placed her in his path. God is a douchebag though, so he knew that wasn't the case. Dean didn't know who or what he had to thank for finding Buffy, but he would thank this unknown force every damn day of whatever remained of his life.

Now it was his turn to make a difference in a seemingly hopeless situation. No matter what, there had to be a way to make this better. He didn't care what it would take, he couldn't let her go on like this. She deserved so much more than this misery. She deserved to be happy and to feel whole. She deserved the heaven that she was made to think she had found. He couldn't undo the pain and heartbreak that she had dealt with so far, but he would do everything he could to have that despair stop here. Dean refused to believe that was all he could do, but it was at least a start. He was going to make her future better. Brighter.