Leaving Sam to get some rest, Buffy and Dean were driving down Massachusetts Avenue in the Impala an hour later, heading towards the antique store to confirm if the cube was, in fact, the cause of all their deepest fears manifesting into real-life enemies. While the cube was so far the only common denominator as to why Sam and Buffy’s fears had appeared, Dean wanted something more concrete. In any case, whether or not it was responsible, they had to remove it from the display. There was no telling how many people could handle it while they were browsing through the store. Like Benson and Sherman, they'd have no idea of the danger they'd brought on themselves until it was too late.
Continuing the charade of impersonating FBI agents, it was already mid-afternoon when they headed out. Sam had wanted to come with them but there was no way, Dean was letting that happen. Instead, he managed to placate Sam by setting him the task of researching the possible origins of the cube. Something like that didn’t just show up one day; there would be a history of its prior to its appearance in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean was convinced of it.
Buffy had also put in a call to Giles. She’d last spoken to him the night Bob Sherman had died, updating him on the information she’d gleaned from Dean about the existence of hunters. Like her, Giles had been astonished to learn that there were humans spread across the globe hunting demons and vampires in the same manner as slayers. While the Council was aware of the odd church-affiliated crusader such as Holtz who had hunted Angelus a century ago, they were oblivious to an entire culture of hunters who had passed on their knowledge from generation to generation.
Before leaving, Buffy had asked Giles to consult his library to see if there was any mention of a cursed object matching the cube’s description in the Watcher Council archives. She could sense Giles’ uneasiness at the fact that Council records seemed to have visible gaps and the existence of hunters was previously unknown to them. The Council prided itself at being abreast of all things supernatural and such a lapse was unforgivable. Nevertheless, Buffy trusted Winchesters and she wanted Giles to trust them too. Letting Giles impart whatever information he’d gleaned to the young hunter seemed like an obvious first step.
Unhappy that she was forced to wear the same blue suit she’d thought she’d banished to her closet for good, Buffy straightened the collar of the silk shirt that refused to sit properly against the navy fabric. Telling herself that this was a means to an end, she finally opted to distract herself by asking Dean the question she’d been keeping to herself since they’d met.
“So,” Buffy said as they drove down Massachusetts, “what’s wrong with Sam?”
Dean shot her a quick glance away from the road before facing front again. “What do you mean?” He asked, feigning ignorance even though he knew perfectly well what she was talking about.
“Come on, I’m not blind,” she said giving him a withering look that said clearly she wasn’t stupid so stop treating her life she was. “It’s pretty obvious he’s sick and he’s been that way since before our detour to hell last night. What’s wrong with him?”
Dean stiffened. He didn’t want to talk about Sam’s condition. So far, he’s managed to convince himself that Sam was okay and that his condition was temporary. When the trials were done, his Sammy would bounce back like he always did. Except in the back of his mind, Cas’ warning about Sam frayed at the edge of that belief. The trials were affecting Sam on a level that was beyond even Cas’ ability to repair. Worse yet, Dean could see just how badly Sam was deteriorating in front of his eyes.
Buffy calling him out on it meant that it was a truth he could no longer deny.
“He’ll be okay once the trials are done.” Dean returned gruffly.
“The trials?” Buffy asked, refusing to let the subject go now that she’d gotten something out of him. She hadn’t seen any reference to any trials in John Winchester’s diary but then he’d only let her read it the night before. There hadn’t been the opportunity to scour it from cover to cover.
“Yeah the trials,” Dean snapped, not wanting to discuss it with her but guessed rightly that she’d bug him until he gave it up. “Look long story short, we found these angel tablets that give us instructions from God on how to dropkick every demon son of a bitch back to hell and closing the gates on them for good. To do that, we gotta perform these three trials to complete the spell. I was supposed to do them but thanks to a big friggin’ screw-up, Sammy got stuck with it. Every time he does a trial, it takes a lot out of him. Once it’s done, Sammy will be fine.”
Even Buffy could see that Dean didn’t believe that one bit.
“What are they?” Buffy asked, steering them to a safer question rather than the one that explained how Sam was the one to get tapped and not Dean. Just by the clenching of Dean’s jaw, Buffy could tell this was a sore point. She’d only known him for days but by the way, he’d spat out the words, it was clear he felt incredibly guilty that Sam had taken his place and was suffering the physical toll. As an older sibling charged to protect a younger one, Buffy could relate. It was Dawn, she’d be in the same state.
Dean went on to explain the details of the first two trials which involved the killing of a hellhound and bathing in its blood followed by the rescue of an innocent soul from hell. It all sounded terribly gruesome but very much in keeping with the biblical nature of Sam and Dean’s experiences with demons and angels. For once, she was grateful that the worst she'd had to deal with was Glory. Not that was any picnic either.
“Each time he does it,” Dean sighed, allowing his worry to show once he turned the Impala off Massachusetts Drive into the mall parking lot where the store was located. “He gets weaker.”
Buffy frowned, saying nothing at first as she contemplated these trials. It was clear they were meant to be undertaken by someone who was more than mere mortal, someone who stronger and more durable than a human; someone like a slayer. Once again, Buffy wondered how the Watcher Council could have missed knowing about, resulting in Sam and Dean, two normal humans to carry the burden of what should have fallen to a Slayer. “Is it too late for someone else to do them?” She asked after a long pause.
Dean didn’t look at her. “Probably not,” he admitted. “But we’ve had to start from scratch and we were damn lucky to walk a soul out of hell, we won’t get that chance to do it again. Trust me, if I could find some way back into hell to do that, I’d let Sammy off the hook in a heartbeat.”
“I didn’t mean you,” Buffy retorted rolling her eyes, “I meant me. ”
He shot her a look that showed her he was clearly not on board with that idea.
“Don’t give me that face,” Buffy countered that incredulous expression he’d just thrown her way.at the mere suggestion. “You said it yourself that it’s hurting Sam. It’s probably because it wasn’t meant to be done by an everyday human. This sounds like something that should have been carried out by a Slayer. I’m stronger and I can heal faster. Maybe, maybe it’s something I should do.”
“Well we’ve been getting the job done without Slayers,” Dean pointed out. “Us good ol’ boys do know a thing or two.” He disliked how being ordinary now meant weaker.
“Don’t be a jerk,” she dismissed his snark promptly, in the same manner, she dealt with a petulant teenager which he could sometimes be, Buffy decided. “I didn’t mean it that way. I mean that I can heal faster and maybe this thing won’t affect me as badly as it’s affecting Sam.”
Dean swallowed down his annoyance because she was staring at him with genuine concern for Sam and Dean was never able to be mad at anyone who cared for his brother as much as he. Until he'd seen for himself how rapidly she healed, Dean had thought this Slayer thing was overrated. However, aside from her strength, the injuries she’d received fighting Angelus and then Michael and Lucifer in the cage were almost completely healed. She could probably handle it better than either he or Sam but that didn’t mean Dean was about to let her try. While he appreciated the sentiment, he was no less prepared to sacrifice her as he was Sam.
“It’s too late Councillor,” Dean spoke in a calmer tone as he sought out a free space to park the car inside the concrete parking structure. “The hellhound thing we might be able to recreate but getting into hell and bringing someone out? We were lucky to get in the first place. No way would Crowley, the bastard in charge of hell, will let us sneak through a second time. Our best bet to help Sammy is to let him see this thing through. ”
Buffy nodded, unhappy at where that left Sam and by the look on Dean’s face, she wasn’t the only one.
***********
They were almost to the front of the store when Dean’s cell phone rang. Reaching into his jacket, he extracted the device to see that it was Sam’s number on the display. Gesturing at Buffy to hold off going into the place, Dean held the phone his ear.
“Dean,” Sam’s voice greeted him when he pressed the receive button.
“Hey, Sammy, what’s up?” Dean asked, hoping that Sam might have managed to identify the cube through researching on the internet. It would be far safer if they knew what they were dealing with.
“I got a hold of Diane Lee,” Sam announced quashing that hope. “I think we’re definitely on the right track with the cube. Apparently, Sherman was afraid of vampire films.”
“Seriously?” Dean made a face at Buffy who looked at him with puzzlement.
“Yeah, apparently he and his friends snuck into a screening of Nosferatu when he was a kid and it scared the crap out of him. Hasn’t watched one since.”
“Well, at least he was spared the Twilight films,” Dean quipped. “Okay, we’ll get in touch with Terry Sherman after we check out the cube. You rest up, order pizza and watch porn. Buffy’s got cable.”
“HEY!” Dean smirked as he heard her outraged exclamation next to him.
“Nice Dean,” Sam shook his head and then answered, “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He hung up just in time to be swatted across the shoulder by Buffy who was giving him a look of contempt. Dean laughed at her pouty expression. Like Sam, she was fun to mess with.
“What?” He claimed ignorance even though he knew exactly what his sin had been.
Filling Buffy in as they walked into the store, they found the place near empty. It was getting on in the day and Dean guessed the antiquing crowd probably liked to do their shopping early. Once again, they were assaulted by the scent of old books and dust. If you lit a match up in here, the place would probably go up like a candle. As they approached the counter where a cash register that looked like one of those from an old western, there was no sign of the owner. Maybe the guy was out back or maybe, Dean thought suspiciously, maybe he’d even seen them and decided to get scarce.
“Well if he ain’t around, I say let’s not rock the boat,” Dean told Buffy, “I saw we find it, grab it…so to speak…and head back to your place. Once we’re there, we can figure out whether it’s our cursed object and what to do with it, if it is.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Buffy agreed, already leaving him behind at the counter and making her way through the narrow passageways that wound through the store like an ant farm.
Dean followed her, flanked by display cases and shelves full of stuff that he couldn’t believe people paid money for, let alone showed off proudly in their homes. Everything in the place had the potential for disaster. This whole joint was cursed object heaven.
“I never get why people want this crap,” Dean commented, looking at the collection of dusty vases, old books and painted porcelain with distaste.
“My mom used to say it’s about creating a sense of immortality,” Buffy remarked offhandedly as she continued walking, her eyes scanning everything so she didn't walk past the thing. “Touching a piece of history so that you become part of it, for the next person to remember.”
“Huh,” Dean shrugged. “Never thought of it that way.”
“Come on,” she glanced over her shoulder as she turned a corner, “don’t you want to leave that car of yours to Dean Junior someday? It’s the same thing.”
“There’s never going to be a Dean Junior Counsellor. I won’t live that long.”
The certainty in which he said those words made her stop and turn around to look at him. When their eyes met, Buffy saw the resignation in his, even sadness. He had surrendered so completely to the life he led, he could see nothing else, couldn’t see anything better. Her heart ached for Dean at that understanding because she hadn’t given up that hope, not really. Xander had his daughter, Willow and Kennedy were adopting and even though she was still alone, Buffy liked to think it was still in the cards for her. However, the futility in his eyes seemed set in stone and she wished she could make him see otherwise.
“You might,” she countered gently.
“I won’t,” Dean stated, his certainty not wavering. He'd tried it with Lisa and hadn't been able to make it work. In the end, all he could do was let her and Ben go. When that had happened, Dean decided that he'd never have the life he wanted and had to be satisfied with the one he had.
“You will,” Buffy insisted with equal certainty because she wanted it for him. Not because she might have her own selfish reasons but because he deserved it. That sadness was one she was familiar with. In a vampire, it had felt bad enough because there was no way for Angel that didn’t end in death. However, for a human like Dean, she refused to believe that it was impossible even if he believed it was. With a wink, she tapped his chest, “I won’t let you skip out early if I can help it.”
And before he could argue with her, she was off and Dean could do nothing but follow her. Crazy chick, he thought but he thought it while he was smiling.
***********
The cube was exactly where she and Sam had seen it the day before.
It sat atop of the display cabinet with the rest of the bric-à-brac looking as harmless as the ballerina figurine and the football trophy collecting dust next to it. The cube had been returned in its original shape, hiding the within its three-dimensional walls. As Buffy had described it before, it was a little thing that could fit easily into someone’s palm. Gilded in gold with designs that looked like symbols but not so much that he could decipher them, Dean stared at the markings and thought he saw something familiar though he couldn't determine exactly what.
“That’s it, huh?” Dean remarked as he leaned forward and studied it for a few seconds before straightening up again. He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and removed a set of latex gloves. Pulling them onto his hands, he had no idea whether this would work or not. However, if contact with flesh was what set this thing off, then he’d take every precaution he could.
"Let’s hope this works better than condoms…you know like 99 per cent effective?”
“God Winchester!” Buffy shot him an aghast look, unable to believe he’d just said that. “Gross.”
“How can you gank vamps and monsters the way you do and still sound you should be collecting unicorn stickers and princess dolls?” Dean teased as he leaned forward to pick up the cube.
"You are such a boy," She snorted and turned her nose up, indicating she was having no more part of this conversation.
"I'm all man baby," he winked, aware that this banter was as good as foreplay where she was concerned. "Now get your phone out and send a picture of this to Sam. That will give him something more to go on. Then I say we get this thing out of here and go lock it down at your place. Just in case the gloves don’t work, the last thing I want is for my worst fear to show up when I’m not near Sam.”
“Gotcha,” Buffy tended to agree, considering that Sam would almost certainly be involved in Dean's worst nightmare. She was already extracting her phone from her own handbag to aim it at Dean. The phone captured the image of the older Winchester and the cube in all its perfect pixelated glory and Buffy immediately sent to Sam via text. Now he'd have an image to study and to search against, she thought with satisfaction.
“I say we take this thing with us or go bury it somewhere if we can’t destroy it,” Dean declared as he held the cube in his hand, studying it closely as if his intense gaze would be enough to unlock the mystery of it.
“Well maybe we should try buying it first,” Buffy pointed out, preferring to go the route that avoided a felony. “I mean if it's sitting out here in the showroom, it must be for sale with the rest of the stock. The antique store guy probably doesn’t even know what it does.”
“I’m afraid I do,” the man said stepping out of the shadows, “and the God of the Razor Realm can’t allow that.”
"The God of what?" Dean started to say when the man started singing in a language that sounded like gibberish.
“Karahnia Stahs ohla varayna discara unas celea mokturna.”
Dean had heard enough Latin and enough words from ancient languages to recognise their origins were but the lyrics being sung by the antique store owner was a complete mystery. The words sounded like verses of a funeral dirge or Gregorian chant. It felt sombre and cold, sending a chill through Dean’s spine as he heard it.
Suddenly the cube came to life in his palm. Light poured out of the groves in its ornate design.
“Drop it, Dean!” Buffy ordered and Dean did not hesitate to let it go, knowing some serious shit was happening.
It landed heavily against the hardwood floor, with an impact that felt like an anvil dropping from a great height. The walls seemed to quake, furniture shuddered and figurines shattered into a thousand pieces after they’d fallen off their perches. The violence of the impact felt like the tremor of an earthquake, making them both lose their balance. As they struggled to regain their footing, the cube on the floor began to open all on its own. As if compelled by the song being sung, it twisted and turned on its own and then unfolded as Sam had done when he’d discovered the correct sequence.
Except this time, the dance of the misshapen figure within was performed to the music emanating from the cube that both Buffy and Dean could hear.
“I’ve seen this part of the movie,” Dean grabbed her hand, his experience entering Purgatory and this situation felt all too similar. “Come on we’re leaving !”
“What?” She stared at him in question. “Why?”
Dean never had a chance to answer her because the figure in the middle of the cube twirled and as it twirled, a curtain of brilliant blinding white light swept across everything in the store, including them.
And when it was gone so were Buffy and Dean.
***********
Sam had fallen asleep.
He woke up when he heard someone at the door.
Sitting upright on the sofa, he realised that he was in the dark with only the illumination from the muted television screen offering him any visibility. Outside the window, he saw that it was dark and a quick glance at the clock on the wall indicated it was almost ten o’clock. He’d taken some pain killers a few hours ago and had dozed off, expecting to be awakened in some juvenile way by Dean when he got back. However as his focus began to sharpen, Sam realised two things. One, Dean and Buffy hadn’t come back yet and thanks to the clock, he knew they’d been gone since this afternoon.
The repeated jiggle of the front doorknob returned his attention to the here and now. Even though it was likely Buffy behind that door, Sam’s instincts made him reach for the ’45 that was resting on the coffee table next to his laptop. It was a habit and even if the threat was benign, John Winchester had taught his sons to take nothing for granted. Gun aimed at the door until he knew otherwise, Sam watched as the door cracked open and a hand fumbled for the light switch.
The light-flooded the room and instead of Buffy and Dean, Sam found himself staring at a woman with dark hair, full red lips and equally expressive brown eyes.
“Whoa there pardner!” She said raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Don’t shoot, I’m on your side!”
“Really?” Sam demanded sceptically as she held position and he was able to get a better look at her. She was a little thing, petite but full of compact muscles barely concealed beneath tight leather jeans, a red tank top and leather riding coat that swirled around her ankle boots. She was what Dean would describe as being ‘smoking hot’. As he stared at her, Sam realised he’d seen her before and then recalled she was one of the faces he’s seen in the photographs scattered around Buffy’s home.
At this point, Sam had come to the conclusion that he was most likely pulling a gun on one of Buffy’s friends and instantly lowered the weapon in embarrassment to start apologising. “Look I’m sorry, I thought you were Buffy or Dean.”
“That’s a hell of a greeting you got there for your friends then,” she teased, her eyes dancing in amusement.
“Well, not I don’t usually greet people like that…” Sam spat out a stuttered response and secretly thanked God that Dean wasn’t here. Sam would never hear the end of it.
“It’s okay hot stuff, didn’t mean to get you all antsy,” she said closing the door behind her and dropping her backpack onto the floor, her eyes never leaving him.
Hot stuff?
The comment threw him and he could never deal with women who threw such overt forward passes in his direction. Fortunately shy and awkward worked well for him too. Sam watched her and found himself somewhat transfixed. She moved like a jungle cat stalking her prey moving effortlessly through the tall grass unseen.
She was a Slayer, Sam thought automatically. A very different kind than Buffy but a slayer nevertheless.
“I’m not antsy,” he composed himself to reply. “Just a little surprised.”
“Surprises keep life interesting,” she winked as she lowered herself onto the armchair and leaned forward extending a hand. “I’m Faith and I’m guessing you’re one of Queen B’s houseguests? Sam?”
Surprised that she knew of him, Sam nodded and shook her hand back. “Yeah I’m Sam,” he extended his hand. “Sam Winchester.”
“Nice to meet you, Sammy,” she and then leaned back into the armchair, crossing her legs on the coffee table. “Giles called me and said B might need some help down here.”
Sammy? Sam would have protested except there was something in the way that she said it that made it hard for him to object. Shaking his head clear of the thought, Sam replied, “He was supposed to call me.” However, in retrospect, he supposed he could understand why Giles might have difficulty entrusting him with information, even if Buffy had vouched for him and Dean.
“Don’t take it personally,” Faith shrugged. “The Watcher Man has trust issues and he worries about Buffy in a daddy kind of way. Besides, it’s been a while since B’s been in the game and Giles figured she could use the backup. I was finishing up dusting some vamps in Amarillo so it wasn’t any trouble for me to drop by.”
Once again, Sam reminded himself not to take offence although he did point out the obvious. “She had back up, my brother’s with her.”
“Don’t get ruffled Sammy,” Faith said smiling at him. “Giles is always a little nervous when it comes to B and the opposite sex. Girl does only one thing better than slaying and that’s picking the wrong guy.”
“My brother is not the wrong guy,” Sam objected immediately to Dean being painted with that assumption. He could see there was something deeper going on between his brother and Buffy. True Dean could be the wrong guy when the mood took him but Sam was certain it was not the case this time. As he thought about Dean and Buffy, he was once again reminded that they weren’t here.
“They’ve been gone a while,” he met Faith’s gaze and there was just enough of a frown on his face for her to react.
“How long is a while?” Faith asked, sitting up straight.
"Hours," Sam answered grimly. "Last time I heard from them was at the antique store. They took a picture of the thing. I've been researching it all afternoon but I've come up with nothing. I was hoping that your Giles might have had something more."
"Giles is still checking it out," Faith leaned over and took the phone in her hand. She examined the picture and raised her brown eyes to his. "This has bad news written all over it."
"It probably does," Sam frowned, "but I can't decipher it. It’s in no language I've ever seen."
"Okay, where is this place?" She asked suddenly standing up.
"You're going there alone?"
"Don't get He-Man on me Sammy," she smiled. "It takes down your cute a couple of notches."
Sam stared at her trying to come up with an appropriate response and could only stutter, "It’s not that...I mean... we don't know what the situation is. You could be walking into the same thing they did. If they walked in on anything at all."
"Look Bs a bit rusty but that’s not going to get in the way of her following the ps and qs of slaying. She knows better than to go AWOL unless your brother's got powers of persuasion I don't know about."
Dean seemed to think so, Sam thought when it came to the opposite sex but this was different. “Dean knows better than to go silent without checking in. He’d know I'd worry."
"That's it then," Faith answered staring to move. "I'll see you later Sammy."
Sam forced himself to stand up and grab her arm. He was still aching like hell and he’d most likely need more painkillers before he left the house but there was no way in hell he was going to let this girl go after Dean and Buffy alone if they were in trouble. "I'm coming with you."
"Nice try," Faith glanced at the hand on her bicep and shook her head, gesturing to the bandages on his arm. "You're not in the shape for it."
"I'll be fine," Sam said resolutely not about to be deterred. "I'm going."
"Don't make me get rough," Faith leaned in, a teasing look on her face even though she was deadly serious. She could put him down easily.
"I like rough," Sam countered with as much determination.
Faith pulled back grinning, "baby brother’s got a dark side huh? Okay Sammy, if we're going to ride together. You better keep up."
"I've got stamina," he returned with the same innuendo.
"Not like mine Sammy," she winked. "Not like mine."
After four years of dealing with angel crap, there was one thing Dean Winchester recognised immediately; how it felt to be teleported.
The instant the blinding white light had enveloped him and Buffy, Dean just knew. Of course, knowing this didn't mean he could do jack to change it or the crap fest they now found themselves. He'd felt the similar sucking sensation in his gut and then as if a light switch had been flicked off, the light vanished and there was only darkness in its wake. The air was forced out of his lungs, leaving a sense of disorientation that resembled an extreme case of vertigo. He sank to his knees, forgetting for the moment that Buffy's hand was still gripped tightly in his or that he had brought her to the floor with him. In retrospect, it didn’t really matter because the important thing was they were still together. He couldn’t be sure of that being the case if he had let go of her.
When the spinning stopped, his knees were screaming in protest at being pressed up against a hard, cold floor. With one hand bracing himself against the surface, the cold that travelled up his arm told Dean that it wasn't wood. It was some kind of black stone...obsidian...Sammy's voice echoed in his head. There was little light and the air was crisp like the sterile air one associated with hospitals or churches. He didn't know which was worse. It felt wrong and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, poised for the revelation of some unspoken horror.
"Buffy," he finally spoke, gripping her hand tighter and taking unbelievable comfort in feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
She didn't answer immediately, prompting him to turn to her and finding that even though her hand was in his, she was lying on her side against the floor, her hair spilled over the black slate, having broken free of the constricted bun she'd worn playing the FBI agent. She looked out it and panic surged through him at the possibility that she might be affected worse than him. That didn’t make sense, he countered immediately. She was the Slayer.
He’d seen how fast she healed, how much strength she had. Was it possible that he was handling better because of his 'trips' with Cas or maybe that there was something about her 'slayerness' that didn't react well to this place? Whatever the reason, he was gripped with the same heart-pounding fear he felt whenever he saw Sammy hurt.
"Buffy," he leaned over and rolled her onto her back. She didn’t react to his voice and that just made Dean feel more anxious. “Come on Sweetheart,” he coaxed gently, “give me a sign here."
Dean pleaded, brushing her cheek with his fingertips, hoping the contact might give jostle her back to consciousness. After only a few days of knowing her, how much Dean cared for Buffy scared the hell out of him. Not since Lisa and maybe even Cassie before that, had Dean felt such an intense connection to any woman. Furthermore, with this one, there was the possibility of a relationship that did not have to end because he was afraid he couldn’t protect her.
After a few seconds, Dean was rewarded with Buffy’s face contracting into a grimace as if consciousness hurt. When she fluttered her eyelids open, green eyes stared at him with a mixture of confusion and fear. Dean was so relieved to see that she was alright, he was pulling her to him before she even had a chance to speak, enveloping her slight frame within his arms. For a moment, he thought that bastard in the antique store had done something to her and they were so far away from help he’d lose her if he couldn’t get her to it.
"Glad you're still with me," he said gratefully, his eyes brushing hers with tenderness.
Buffy's head was swimming and her slayer senses so often sharper than anything felt as if every neuron in her head had been scrambled and she was still struggling to pull them back together again. She gasped audibly at the sensation of being held up in his arms, relishing the pleasure of his strong chest pressing against hers so tightly she could hear his heart pounding against her own. Buffy allowed herself to be swallowed by his concern and she hugged him back, relishing the strength and passion he was channelling to her form his own forceful will. Dean was like a force of nature and it had been so long since Buffy had been able to commend herself to anyone who could make her feel everything would be okay even when it was not.
"What happened?" She asked softly when her equilibrium was restored and she was strong enough to draw away from him to look at his face.
"We've been teleported," Dean answered, having no doubt of that fact. "That I know. Everything else, not so much. I wanted to see how you were doing first. Can you stand?" He asked gently.
The cold floor and the ache of her flesh pressed against the hard surface told Buffy that everything was working because she could feel it. “Yeah, I’m good" she answered and tried her legs by attempting to stand.
He got up off the floor with her, eyes very much fixed on Buffy, ensuring that he only let go of her hand when he was convinced she could stand up on her own. Only then did Dean turn his attention to where they had materialised. He knew before he had even looked, that they were nowhere near the antique store, what he wasn’t prepared for; was how sinister their new environment would appear.
They were in a corridor almost thirty feet across. Ahead and behind them, the corridor disappeared into the distance until they couldn’t see where it began or ended. The walls that flanked them on either side were made of the same dark stone. It was as if the whole construction was carved out of a gigantic slab of stone. The walls on either side of them ran at least fifteen feet high with no roof. And above their heads, the sky was moonless and dark. Dean felt his breath catch when he saw no stars, not a single one, not even clouds that might have obscured him. Dean had spent enough times stargazing from the roof of the Impala to know there was nowhere you could go on the planet and not see stars.
"Where the hell are we?" Buffy asked, retrieving the handbag that was lying on the floor next to her, her tone subdued as if she was afraid of breaking the silence or worse yet, getting an answer.
"I don't know," Dean replied but then he remembered what that spooky son of a bitch had said to them before the light show had started. The God of the Razor Realm. Was this it? What the hell did that mean? Was there a deity roaming the halls of this creepy place, looking for them? "Let's keep moving anyway," Dean suggested, deciding that until he knew for certain, there was no point worrying her. Besides, his time in Purgatory had taught him one thing; it was never wise to stand still in one place.
"Yeah, good idea," Buffy nodded, trying to hide how freaked she was out about this place. Something about it was playing havoc with her slayer senses. In the early days, before she had become more in tuned and in control of her slayer senses, she'd felt the supernatural most acutely. They'd manifested themselves as cramps at first because she was untrained but eventually thanks to her training with Giles, she honed it to the point where she could feel it like a sixth sense. Right now, that sixth sense was telling her that they were in a place so unnatural it could not cope.
"Son of a bitch probably hit us with some kind of dream spell," Dean spoke, just to break the interminable silence which felt like icicles against his spine. "Me and Sam drank this tea made of African Dream Root. It tasted like total ass but it allowed us to moonwalk in each other's dreams. Real creepy shit for sure but maybe that’s what this is."
"So you’re saying we’re now lying on the floor of that antique store, drooling like idiots?" Buffy declared, her expression soured as she looked up and down the corridor before facing him again. "Terrific, he's probably dismembering us as we speak."
"Way to keep some optimism there, Counsellor,"' Dean shot her a look. "He's more likely stashing us somewhere until he can deal with us without being seen. It was still daytime when he zapped us so the store’s still open. We got a bit of time. Besides, when we don't check-in, Sam will come looking."
"Sam's in no shape to take this guy on," Buffy pointed out, "and who knows, he might end up in the same place we are."
That was not a pleasant picture she’d painted but Dean had faith in his brother. Even if Sam wasn’t a hundred per cent, his brother knew better than to rush in blindly to rescue them. If he figured out they were in trouble, he’d get back up. Of course, that back up was Garth. These were the moments when Dean really missed Bobby.
"Sam's gotten me out of tighter spots," Dean assured her and himself, "He'll figure something out. Meanwhile, we can try and make our own way out of here."
Realising that defeatist attitude was helping no one at this point, Buffy reminded herself that she was the slayer and he was the ordinary human. She ought to be the one making him feel better but instead, he was playing, being the strong man comforting the little blond girl. How the hell did she let herself fall into that role? Then again, when it came to Dean Winchester, Buffy was learning that it was kind of nice to let him take the reins (to a point) because he felt an equal, not someone she had to protect. That was part of Dean’s charm, Buffy decided. The man had no limits or didn't believe that he had any. She admired him for that and at the same time wanted to dropkick him to the other side of the planet.
"Right,” Buffy stated confidently, deciding that it was time to start acting like the slayer, not some wussy girl that needed him to hold her hand. "So assuming this is a dream, there's always an escape hatch, right? Kind of like the red pill, blue pill?"
“Eh…more like follow the white rabbit, " Dean countered, “Although right now, I’d take either.” Still, he was pleased she was rebounding from the earlier disorientation and sounding more like herself again.
“Just call me Alice,” Buffy quipped but her gaze had shifted away from him and was surveying their surrounding with laser-like precision. She was taking in everything; from the texture of the walls to the ends, they couldn’t see and the lack of stars in the sky.
“Only if you were wearing the sexy Halloween costume that goes with it,” Dean winked.
“You’re a dork,” she laughed faintly, guessing he was trying to cheer her up because their situation, even if it was a dream, seemed bleak.
“Yeah but I’m fun to be around,” he grinned before scanning the place himself, though Dean was less subtle about it. After the last year, Dean knew how to survive in adverse environments and making do with what he got. However, he suspected that Buffy despite all the fights she had in her life, had never been placed in a situation where she was cut off from everything she knew and forced to survive on nothing but her wits.
“That’s one way to put it,” she glanced at him coyly when suddenly she noticed something that made her arm shoot out across his chest, halting him in his tracks. “I see something. Stay here.” She ordered and started jogging forward.
Dean rolled his eyes as she went on ahead and muttered under his breath as he took off after her, “Yeah that’s going to happen.”
Buffy glanced over her shoulder and saw Dean following. Well, it was worth a try, she thought to herself as she closed the distance between herself and the ‘something’ she had seen. Nearing it, she was able to make out the indistinct shape that was coming into focus as a person beneath the indigo light. Not just a person but a child.
The little girl stepped out from the shadow of the wall and stared at Buffy with intense blue eyes. She was a child of no more than seven years old. She stood there staring hard at Buffy, her arms hanging limply to her sides as she waited for the Slayer to reach her. She had black hair, held in place by a red hairband and dressed in a navy pinafore, with white trim on the hem of her skirt. Beneath it, she wore a white shirt with a Peter Pan collar along with white stockings and patent black Mary Janes. She looked like one of those kids that went to Catholic school.
She stared at Buffy with soulful dark eyes, her pink lips quivering in fear.
Her obvious fear made Buffy soften her approach. “Oh hey, there sweetie? How did you get here honey?” Buffy flashed her a sympathetic smile.
Dean slowed when he saw her closing in on the girl and wanted to warn Buffy to approach with caution but she was already within arm’s length and cajoling the child forward. Instinctively, his hand reached around his waist, to the Colt he had tucked in the back of his pants. Even when wearing this monkey suit, he and Sam never travelled without some form of protection. Particularly in recent years with angels and demons popping up around every corner like meerkats.
“I’m lost…” the waif spoke in a pitiful voice engendering all kinds of sympathy. “Where’s my mommy?”
“Oh it’s okay sweetie,” Buffy held out her arms and the child slipped into her embrace readily, wanting to be held. “We’ll take care of you,” Buffy assured the girl gently.
“Uh, Counsellor…” Dean wanted to warn her it was too late now. Women, he cursed under his breath, they lost all good sense when it came to kids, puppies and shoes.
While still hugging Buffy, the girl raised her head to Dean as she caught sight of him reaching them. Her skin was so pale it reflected what little light there was in this place to make her face look almost luminescent. Her eyes held Dean for a second before her face split into a wide grin that could only be considered unsettling before she flashed her teeth at Dean.
They were triangular-shaped serrated knives.
“BUFFY!” He barked in warning, going for his gun as the girl lowered her neck to take a bite out of the slayer’s neck.
Years of dealing with vampires who could trick you with such disarming guises kicked Buffy’s reflexes into action. Utilising lightning-fast agility that had not slowed even after three years, Buffy shoved the girl off her as soon as she heard Dean’s panicked cry. The force of it sent the girl stumbling backwards and she landed heavily on her rump when she was unable to halt herself. Furious at being thwarted, she glared at Buffy and unleashed a shrill cry of indignation that sounded like the banshee’s wail.
When her screeched melted away, her face changed and the child’s eyes morphed into tiny mouths with the same sharp teeth. They were chomping at her, making a clicking sound that felt like nail against a chalkboard. The girl extended her arm outwards, posing them in the same way as she had done when she had plied for Buffy’s embrace, except her arms, were no longer arms. The flesh had morphed into the cold polished steel of long, sharp butcher knives and her fingers had disappeared into tapered points. Her legs transformed in the same way, the shoes and stockings replaced by steel. When she took a step forward, she looked like a ballet dancer on tiptoes. It was grotesquely graceful.
“Don’t you want to take care of me?” The girl extended her arm. “Don’t you want to hug me?”
“Holy crap,” Dean swore under his breath when he reached Buffy who was too horrified to say anything.
The child lunged at Buffy and Dean her bladed arms, flaying wildly at them like some kitchen appliance gone mad. Both Buffy and Dean leapt out of the way to avoid being slashed to ribbons. As she barreled through them. Dean rolled across the floor and onto his knee, pulling out his gun and taking aim on the girl who had her back to him. It was Buffy she was going for first and that gave Dean a narrow margin of time to act. The girl continued to swing her bladed arms at Buffy, driving the slayer backwards in an effort to avoid the deadly swish of blades.
“HEY T1000!” Dean shouted at the little bitch, trying to draw her attention away from Buffy.
She ignored him though Dean saw Buffy’s gaze averting to his briefly as another swipe cut through the front of her jacket, a button skittering across the hard floor as it splayed open, revealing the white shirt beneath. She wasn’t hurt but it was a close miss. Wanting to give Buffy time some slack to get clear, Dean took careful aim and fired a single shot at the girl’s head. It was the only part of her other than her torso that was still flesh. The bullet slammed into her temple, her neck snapping sharply to one side like it was on hinges. Brain matter sprayed across the black walls but there was no blood, just dark greenish ooze that looked like ectoplasm.
The girl froze in her tracks and turned her head towards him. He saw the ragged hole that was on the other side of her face and she glared at him, those freaky eyes chomping while she opened her mouth and screamed again. The sound cut through his ears and he flinched as she started running towards him.
Buffy wasted no time with the opportunity Dean had given her. She skidded towards the handbag she had dropped trying to evade the girl and reached inside her. Rummaging through it, it was less than a second before she extracted the folded blade that she had tucked in there before she’d left the house for the antique store. It was made from silver and almost eight inches in length. It had been custom made for her by Giles and was easier to explain than a wooden stake. It was also effective on more than just vampires. Since Sunnydale, Buffy had learned that there were meaner things than vampires out there and the predominant characteristic they all seemed to share was their hatred of silver.
“That wasn’t nice,” the girl hissed at Dean and lunged at him, with her blade/hand extended.
He got out of the way and slammed an elbow against her back, causing her to topple forward. She landed on her hands and kicked out her leg, the sharp point slicing across Dean’s side. He groaned in pain, feeling blood spilling out from the gash. Dean staggered back in pain but maintained the presence of mind to raise his gun and fired, this time, hitting her torso. Two bullets penetrated the dark pinafore and only the slick ooze saturating the entry points showed Dean that he had actually hurt her. She spun around on one leg and uprighted herself with surprising ease.
“Get clear,” Buffy ordered and shoved Dean aside as the girl came at him again.
Dean turned around to see Buffy engage the monster, he’d stopped calling it a girl when the bitch cut him. She ducked smoothly when the creature slashed at her, delivering a sidekick so straight, it connected beneath the flaying arm blades and propelled the monster away from her. It managed to keep from falling, regaining its balance by pivoting on one-pointed leg before swinging about like a mathematical compass. Buffy leapt back to avoid being cut in half by the thing as it corrected its stance once more.
Clutching his bleeding side, he watched Buffy fight. In Purgatory, he’d struggled for a year to survive against creatures that defied reason in their savagery and knew he was a better hunter than he’d ever been but Buffy was born to it in a way Dean could never be. When she’d fought Angelus, it was a display of brute strength that he could appreciate since that was what he’d been forced to employ over the years. However, now as she fought this overgrown Jinsu knife, he saw a different kind of skill at work. It was almost graceful and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little awe watching her fight.
The creature continued to slash at Buffy but Buffy deflected every blow with her own knife, ensuring nothing made contact with her flesh. As she fought, something awakened in her, something that had been sleeping for three years she hadn’t even realised she’d missed. She slashed at the creature, her slayers senses becoming sharper and stronger with each blow she delivered and each attack she avoided. Three years ago, she’d walked away from the life and Buffy realised, she’d been in a holding pattern, hiding from who she was.
She wasn’t just a slayer but the Slayer. The Chosen One.
“DEAN!” She hollered over her shoulder, “my handbag! Now!”
Dean did it without questioning the fact that she had ordered him to get her purse like he was some pussy-whipped husband. It was lying on the floor near his feet. He grabbed it and tossed it to her.
Buffy caught the leather handbag, now considerably lighter, with one hand and dropped to her knees. She swung it around the creature’s bladed legs, snagging one foot and then yanked back hard. Legs swept from under her, the girl crashed on the floor and Buffy was on her in a second. Without giving the creature a chance to react, Buffy swung the knife once with all the strength she could muster.
Dean watched the girl’s head roll across the floor, coming to a stop at the base of the wall. As her head detached, her body collapsed, her clothes fluttering emptily. The blades which had been her limbs clattered noisily against the floor. Dean saw Buffy prodding at the clothes with the tip of her knife. Nothing moved. When she was satisfied that the creature was dead, she turned back to him, her face etched with concern when Dean realised she was seeing the blood on his shirt.
“You’re hurt!” She exclaimed hurrying to him.
“I’m okay,” he assured her. Actually the wound hurt like a son of a bitch and the blood soaking through his shirt and pants told him it was deep but he was not going to whine about it like a bitch. Leaning against a section of wall, he started unbuttoning the shirt so that he could get a better look at the damage.
“Yeah right,” she retorted, not believing him for a second. Handbag still in hand, she got down on knee so that she could examine him.
“Hey while you’re down there and if you want to make me feel better…” Dean smirked while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. In truth, he was in pain but he sure as hell not showing it to her. After seeing her fight, he felt almost ineffectual.
“Really?” She gave him a withering look and then proceeded to help him with unbuttoning his shirt so that she could examine his wound. Parting the soiled fabric from his stomach, Buffy winced at the sight of the injury. He’d been cut quite deeply beneath the ribs. She couldn’t tell if any organs had been damaged but he needed stitches, that much was clear.
“It feels like a flesh wound from here,” Dean remarked, grimacing when he felt her fingers probing lightly at the cut flesh. “Is it?”
“A pretty severe one,” Buffy frowned while agreeing with his assessment. It was hard to see in this light and she wished she’d packed a torch. “Can you stand for a bit? The light’s not so good and I can’t see that well so I need to be up close.”
“I can stand,” Dean said, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes to manage the pain while she prodded at him, “do what you have to.”
“Okay,” Buffy nodded and rifled through her handbag. She didn’t have a first aid kit as such in it but she carried a few loose items that would serve in a pinch. “I’m going to seal this up until we get home and I can call Cari again.”
“Sure,” he grunted while keeping a lookout to ensure they weren’t ambushed by any other freaky monster. “That was pretty awesome knife you’re packing.”
“Thanks,” Buffy remarked as she pulled a pack of tissues out and started cleaning the wound as best as she could. “I saw one like it in the store a couple of years ago. An Espada something I think.”
“I’ve seen it,” Dean replied knowing the model she was talking about. He had something similar in the boot of the Impala, “the 60NX?”
“That’s the one,” Buffy confirmed, tossing aside the blood-soaked tissues and reaching for the tube of crazy glue in one of the pockets of her bag. “I gave Giles the specs and told him I wanted one custom made with a completely silver blade. It fits in my handbag easily or against my leg in a sheath. Less conspicuous than carrying around a stake.” She said as a matter of factly.
She was awesome, Dean decided.
“That crazy glue?” Dean asked when he saw her squeezing the contents of the tube into his wound.
“Yeah,” Buffy nodded, applying the clear adhesive between the cracks of torn flesh as much as possible.
“Good call,” Dean winced again as she filled the wound then pressed his flesh together with her fingers and thumb to ensure it sealed. Dean threw his head back and clamped his eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain. It had to be done however, he knew that. Crazy glue was the next best thing to getting actual stitches and it would keep him from bleeding out any further. “Sam and I buy that stuff by the crate. I always thought chick’s handbags didn’t have anything useful in them….” He finished with another hiss.
“I’m done,” she said finally, buttoning up his shirt. Buffy stood up and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Do you need a minute? We should get moving. I don’t know what the hell that thing that was but I’m guessing it’s an opening act.”
“Yeah I’m with you on that,” Dean agreed and then added. “I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”
And he had. He could tell her about Purgatory and the crap he’d been through that year, running and fighting to stay alive, while killing everything with teeth, fangs and claws hunting him. This was benign in comparison.
“You sure?” She stared at him with concern.
Seeing him bleed had driven home to her that he was a normal human who didn’t have her recuperating abilities, despite the fact he pitted himself against monsters for most of his life. While she tried not let her feelings for him run away with her, Buffy could not deny she cared a lot for Dean Winchester and didn’t want to risk his life for anything. However, he wasn’t the kind of guy who took protection from a girl very well, since he was as alpha male as they came so she didn’t want to overemphasize her worry for him.
“Hey I’m okay,” Dean raised a hand to her cheek and held her gaze for a second because he saw the fear in her green eyes. It made his heart swell seeing the depth of her affection for him. Leaning forward, he captured her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. “Takes more than some Jinsu baby to put me down. I’m harder to kill than a New York cockroach.” He winked at her cockily.
Buffy savoured his taste on her lips, losing herself a moment in the kiss. Had the timing been right, she’d have shown him just how much she cared but the timing wasn’t right and their lives were still in danger. Licking her lips when she pulled away from him, she said softly. “Well don’t get yourself killed, I kind of like having you around.”
Dean smiled because this felt like they were saying something to each other that meant more than the playful banter they were exchanging. Like they were claiming each other in a way neither had dared to do with another person before. It wasn’t anything as binding as a commitment but it felt lasting nonetheless, like a promise to be in each other’s world from this point forward.
“I like having you around too,” Dean admitted softly, his voice lacking the usual flippancy or cocky arrogance. “You were unbelievably hot when you were kicking that thing’s ass. I didn’t understand the whole slayer thing before but seeing you in action, I get it. This is what you are.”
“Yeah,” Buffy nodded with agreement. “I think it is too. I thought I could walk away but when I’m fighting, I feel alive, like this is what I’m supposed to do.”
“I know the feeling,” Dean said pushing away from the wall and heading towards the creature’s remains. Bending down on one knee, he grunted in pain and reminded himself that he needed to be careful how he exerted himself. Crazy glue wasn’t a permanent fix to his injuries and he still needed patching up when they got out of here. For now, he had to take care to last as long as he could at her side.
“What are you doing?” She asked puzzled.
Dean picked up one of the blades that had been the little girl’s arm and lifted it up carefully, examining the edge. “Making use of the native surroundings.” He grinned and tucked it under his arm. “I want to be ready for anything else they throw at us. Grab one Sweetheart,” he nodded at the pile of blades and winked, “let’s hunt some orc.”
Dear God, it was possible she was falling in love with the hottest nerd alive.
Once Faith had realised that Sam Winchester was not about to let her go off on her own, they’d borrowed Buffy’s car and driven back to the shopping mall on Massachusetts Drive. As expected at this hour of the night, all the stores were closed but they managed to drive into the underground parking lot beneath the mall where they’d found the Impala waiting impatiently for Dean to return.
The fact that the Impala was languishing in a public lot like this, where it could be towed away or subject to the ministrations of a car thief was proof enough for Sam that Dean and Buffy were in trouble. There was no way in hell Dean would leave his car alone like this without good reason. That and the fact that neither he nor Faith had been able to reach the duo cells proved that some was very wrong.
“Your bro’s got a nice ride, Sammy,” Faith complimented as she ran her palm across the smooth finish of the Impala’s paintwork.
“She’s Dean’s baby,” Sam remarked as he used a Slim Jim made from a metal ruler to open the driver’s side door. Once inside, he could use the spare set of keys that Dean had stashed beneath the driver’s seat in case of emergencies. Not that Sam planned to drive the Impala anywhere just. At this moment, he was only interested in getting to the trunk of the vehicle to grab some weapons.
“It was our dad’s car,” Sam continued to explain. “Dad gave it to Dean on when he turned sixteen. It’s probably the closest he’s gotten to having a long term relationship. He’d stroke out if anything happened to it.”
In truth, Sam would be similarly upset if anything happened to Impala. However, unlike Dean, Sam wasn’t as biased to the vehicle’s flaws as his brother. As far as Sam was concerned, the thing had some serious miles on it and was lousy on gas, however, Fate decreed any car owned by a Winchester that wasn’t the Impala was destined to be destroyed in some freak accident.
“That close huh?” Faith chuckled sensing some ire in Sam’s voice but she was on big brother’s side on this one. Faith who liked good ol’ fashioned American shared the older Winchester’s love for the automobile. It was a muscle car that had been kept in cherry condition, reminding her a great deal of the T-Bird that was the ride of a choice for a certain vampire with a soul who had been her mentor and friend. “I can relate.”
When the car lock popped up with a muted click on the other side of the window, Sam immediately reached for the handle and opened to the door climb into the front seat. Searching beneath the leather seat, it took but a few seconds for his fingers to feel the key that had been fastened in place there. Once he had it, Sam emerged from the vehicle and looked across the roof of the car at Faith who was waiting almost as impatient as the abandoned car. Like his brother, Faith was ready to dive in and find Buffy and Dean. Sam suspected that it was part of her makeup to stake first and ask questions later.
Sam headed towards the trunk of the car and glanced as she joined him there. Before he opened the trunk, he stared at her, “Okay assuming they’re in trouble and not somewhere getting up close and personal, we get answers first and foremost right?”
“Of course,” Faith replied coyly, wearing an expression of complete innocence that she had ever intended anything else. “Can I at least break a few of the antique store guy’s bones before I make him talk?” She batted her lashes at Sam, wearing a smirk on her lips.
“Uh no,” Sam rolled his eyes, “it’s been my experience that people tend to get pissed and uncooperative when you start breaking bones. Let’s try talking to him first and if he jerks us around, then you can break something.” Sam preferred more civilised methods of extracting information but he wasn’t freaking Gandhi either.
“Ooh Sammy,” Faith winked at him, “you just know how to get to a girl right here.” She thumped her chest once.
Still finding it odd that he didn’t mind her calling him Sammy, Sam lifted the trunk door and revealed the arsenal stashed there. The load had lightened considerably since Dean mounted some of the weapons on the walls of his room at the Bat Cave…Sam rolled his eyes, unable to believe they had taken to calling the place that….but it was still an impressive cache. There were shotguns, flare guns, tasers, crossbows and various types of knives, not to mention iron bars, bags of salt and hex bags. Everything the modern hunter needed to battle whatever evil that crept his way.
“Oh…my… Sammy,” Faith purred as she leaned in closer to examine the weapons arrayed before her. Giles had given her the skinny about these ‘hunters’ that Buffy had stumbled across and Faith had assumed, these were amateurs trying to play at demon slayers. However, seeing what was in the trunk of the Impala, Faith had to admit these guys might know their stuff. “I think you’ve just made all my girl parts quiver. Very nice.”
“Uh yeah we try to prepare for everything,” Sam managed to answer after clearing his throat.
Nor not the first time that evening, Sam told himself that the girl was merely flirting and not really interested in him. She probably treated all the men she met this way. However, Sam couldn’t deny that he was becoming more and more attracted to Faith. Even though right now was the worst possible time he could have chosen to be interested in anyone. Unfortunately, he knew his weakness for strong, self-assured women. Jess, Madison, Ruby and the latest being Amelia. Still, Faith seemed to be in a class all by herself.
Forcing himself to stay on point, he added, “the problem is, we don’t know what we’re facing.”
“We can't dwell on it Sammy, B and D don’t have that much time for us to figure it out. Just grab what makes the biggest splat and let’s go. Time’s a-wasting.”
She was right; Sam decided. They had to move and now.
Sam couldn’t be preoccupied with the guilt trip he was secretly nursing unbeknownst to Faith. He kept thinking he should have been there with Dean and was convinced that Dean had tried to go easy on him by partnering with Buffy. For once, being attracted to the girl was not the sole reason Dean had chosen to ditch him. As it was, Sam was still blaming himself for not searching for Dean after his brother had vanished a year ago following the defeat of Dick Roman. He'd given Dean up for dead moved on, giving up the hunt and leaving friends and family to fend for themselves.
It seemed that no matter what he did, he’d always be the guy that let people down.
***********
When they finally reached it, the antique store was already closed. Sam had expected it since it was past trading hours and the mall was locked up for the night. Fortunately, Sam had enough experience with picking the locks on the security gate to gain access to the building. Staring through the glass façade that made up the frontage of the store, there was no sign of life in the darkened premises save for a candle that sat on one of the shelves. It had been left burning and Sam guessed it was some form of mystical protection. Other than that, there was no movement to indicate anyone was there, not even a crack of light from the back room where the owner might retreat to manage the day’s takings.
This was not going to stop either of them from investigating further. As far as Sam was concerned; if the Impala was still here then so were Buffy and Dean. They had just to be found.
"We need to get in there," Sam declared, moving to the front door while clutching the backpack filled with everything needed to deal with this menace whatever it was.
"I’m hip to that,” Faith agreed readily. “You find a shady spot to hide your face while I take out that security cameras there.” She gestured to the device that was mounted on the wall two stores further along the row of shops. "I’m guessing that places like this will only playback the footage if someone gets broken into. Still, I don’t want the rent-a-cops catching sight of us."
Sam was on board with that but had an addendum to make regarding her instruction. “You get the camera and I’ll get the door and make sure we don't trip any mystical alarms or wards that might give us away when we go in.”
Damn, he knew his stuff, Faith thought quietly. “Five by five,” she winked at him before heading off.
Turning his back to her, Sam went to work on the lock. It wasn’t terribly complicated and once through, he made sure he severed the wires linking the door to the alarm so he and Faith didn’t trip in entering the premises. Once through, he scanned the immediate area and saw a couple of objects that could be used as protective and warding spells. The candle Sam had seen earlier was red and surrounded by herbs, possibly Asafoetida or Hawthorne. Its counter was simple enough; a shield spell that would allow him to disable the ward.
“Infinitarius naturae prodire, scutum prep veneficium abl terci….” “Sam chanted the words and the candle immediately extinguished. He spent the next two minutes neutralising the other wards in the place before it was safe enough to proceed further. Once he was done, he peered through the door to see where Faith had gone.
“Faith!" Sam hissed when he didn’t see her.
“Relax Sammy,” she revealed herself a second later, having hidden perfectly within the shadows of the deepened doorway of an amenities room further along the walkway. “I’m here.”
“I’ve taken care of the spells,” he explained as he held open the door for her.
Faith darted in quickly and Sam followed, closing the door behind him and giving one last scan of the area to ensure no one had seen them enter. They moved deeper into the store until the light from the outside diminished to the point where they were in near pitch-black darkness.
“Wait a second,” he said quietly and fumbled through his backpack. A second later and he thrust the cool metal of a flashlight in her hand and took one for himself.
“Boy scout much?” Faith teased as she flicked on the torch.
“I like to be prepared,” Sam shrugged in the darkness. Sam was used to doing the prep work when he and Dean were on the hunt. “Come on,” he gestured past the counter to the meandering aisles that ran like a maze through the store.
"God I hate these places," Faith complained as she frowned distastefully at the creepy dolls and dust collecting figurines and statues. “It’s like having a giant garage sale for all kinds of evil junk. You just know every time someone gets their face burnt off or throat slashed is because they bought some ugly ass piece of crap that came from a place like this."
Sam glanced over his shoulder at her for a second. The words could have come from Dean, he thought. Then again, thinking that the girl he was seriously attracted to, had a lot of his brother’s characteristics was just plain traumatizing. Like reading that Wincest stuff on the Carver Edlund’s fan site didn’t do that already.
"Yeah that seems to be the pattern,” Sam couldn’t deny that statement. “It’s a pity that we can’t tell people that old and vintaged can also mean cursed object and fatal.” He paused a moment and swept the torch over the space in front of him. “Okay, Buffy and I saw the cube just up ahead.” He told her.
"You really think that this is the big bad?" Faith asked aware that there was still some uncertainty on this point.
"It’s the only thing that seems to connect us,” Sam answered. “It would explain the only thing that seems to connect. Besides, if there is even the slightest chance that this is the thing and we can save any more people from getting hurt, I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Huh,” Faith remarked, the flashlight beam resting on his face as she stared at him. Those words were so familiar that if the light hadn’t been on his face, she would have thought someone else had said them. Someone she loved and had been unable to save.
“What?” Sam blinked, wondering why she was holding the torch on him light that.
“Nothing,” Faith said lowering the beam and smiling to herself in the dark. If he had been able to see, he would have found that the smile was nothing like seductive smirks she'd tossed his way since they'd met. This smile was subtle and meaningful. "You just kind of remind me of someone."
From her tone, Sam guessed right away it was someone no longer living. "Is that a good thing?" He asked gently.
“Yeah,” Faith nodded, feeling moisture in her eyes that was so not her. She didn’t get doe-eyed and misty like B, she was made of stronger stuff than that or so Faith often told herself that. “It’s a good thing, he was a good guy.”
“Was. “He’d called it right. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. Sam had a feeling that Faith didn’t care for people lightly and whomever this person was she lost, the cut had been deep and possibly still open.
"Me too," she said shaking off the moment, not wanting to dwell when they had a job to do.
Sam nodded and continued searching. Scouring the shelves, he tried to remember exactly where he had seen it. Not an easy thing to do even with the torch and he was conscious that they might be seen by mall security. The last thing Sam needed was to be hauled in by the cops. After the whole leviathan mess, he wasn't entirely sure if he and Dean were still wanted and had no desire to find out first hand.
Whether or not Sam knew it, Faith was already doing just that very thing. She was keeping a vigil not just for mall security but for the mysterious owner of this store. While the store may appear empty, she was not about to drop her guard and get waylaid by the guy if he was capable of taking out B and Sam’s apparently capable brother Dean. Faith didn’t say it out loud but the man's absence unsettled her. It meant that he could be somewhere with Buffy and Dean, doing God only knew what to them.
Suddenly, Sam stopped so suddenly that Faith bumped into him. Damn, he was a solid, Faith thought pulling away from him. “What’s up?”
Sam stared at a shelf, greeted by an outline of dust where the cube had been. He checked the area where they were standing to confirm that he was in the right place. With a sinking feeling, Sam knew he was. “It’s gone,” he exclaimed, disappointment exuding from each word.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Faith asked.
"I'm sure it is," Sam declared firmly. "This is it."' The frustration in his voice spoke volumes to his fear about this meant for Buffy and Dean.
“Hey,” she touched his arm, “we’ll find it okay? We’ll find it and then we’ll find B and your bro. If the cube isn’t here and neither is the guy, then I say we check out his office and find out where he hangs his hat at night. Then we can pay him a little house call.”
“Right,” Sam nodded and was actually inclined to let Faith break as many bones as she liked to find out what had happened to Dean and Buffy.
***********
“Watch out!” Buffy shouted.
The ghoul came at Dean with arms outstretched, inadvertently pushing him backwards. Dean landed hard, uttering a groan of pain as he hit the stone surface with his ass, the shockwave sending pain up his spine to the rest of his body. The walking corpse, with its pale skin and gunky teeth gnashing with anticipation, rushed to reach him before he could get up. Planning on being no one’s meal, Dean recovered quickly, tilting his body and smashing the ball of his foot against the ghoul’s belly to gain him a few precious seconds.
The strategy worked with the creature tumbling a few steps back. Taking advantage of the ghoul’s momentary distraction, Dean retrieved the blade that had fallen out of his hands when the creature first attacked. He’d fashioned a makeshift hilt out of a ripped section of his shirt so he could handle it like a sword. Wrapping his hand around the hilt, Dean jumped to his feet by the time the ghoul renewed its attack. Ready for it this time, Dean swung the blade in a neat arm, slicing through the monster’s neck and decapitating with one powerful blow.
Black blood splattered over his already ruined shirt. Wiping a smattering of it from his face, he barely had time to recoup when another ghoul ambushed him from behind. The instant Dean felt the cold flesh on his shoulder, he reacted instinctively, grabbing its bony arm and using his momentum to flip it onto its back. The creature growled in outrage when it slammed against the floor in front of Dean. Once again, Dean acted swiftly, hacking at the monster repeatedly, until the body beneath him was a grisly pile of gore and black ooze.
Another kill accomplished, Dean raised his head to see how Buffy was faring. He found her engaged in combat with her own ghoul, displaying the same savage ferocity that he felt when he'd been fighting. Strewn around her were the remnants of other ghouls she already killed. As she fought, Dean couldn’t help but feeling the familiar awe of watching her fight, watching as she took on one ghoul after another, a perfect engine of coordination dressed up in a cute blond package.
She wielded the blade like a sword and she did it with far more artistry than he. Buffy maintained perfect control of her weapon, dropping to a knee to stab the creature in front of her through the belly, before retracting and delivering a high kick that caught it on the chin. While it reeled from the blow, she landed on both feet and swung her body around like a dancer performing a pirouette cleaving the thing in half across the sternum. The monster’s arms went limp and fell apart like wet meat, each part squelching sickly when they landed.
With the last ghoul dispatched, for now, Dean found himself relaxing a little until the next onslaught came upon them. The mystery of how these creatures were finding their way to Buffy and Dean was solved after they’d seen how the ghouls had arrived. They had come from the same place as the little girl. From the walls. They stepped out of the walls like they were stepping out from behind the curtain and Dean had no doubt that as long as they were here, that’s how the God of the Razor Realm would be sending his monsters after them.
“This is the last time I let you pick where we go on a date,” Dean joked as he wiped away a glob of something wet he had no wish to identify from his face with his sleeve.
Buffy looked down at herself and groaned with disgust. She was similarly filthy and knew that when they got back to the world, she’d be showering for a week to get rid of the stench. Lowering the blade, she took in the sight of him, covered in blood and viscera and let out an exasperated groan. “Is it possible for the two of us to go anywhere together without something or someone dying? What is that?”
“Foreplay?” Dean said cockily, a leer on his face.
It was ridiculous. Being here was no laughing matter and he ought to be scared shitless but he wasn’t. He's spent a year in Purgatory, fighting and killing everything in sight to stay alive that upon returning to the world, he had no idea what normal anymore and yet right now, at this moment, he was enjoying it. In Purgatory, there had been a purity in the hunting of monsters. There was no doubt or hesitation as to what needed to be done. No shades of grey, no deals or unexpected consequences, just the fight. Dean had found it simpler and now in this place which was so much like Purgatory, he felt invigorated because he was ready for anything it could throw at him.
“Oh my God,” her eyes became wide as saucers as she saw the almost gleeful look on his face. “You’re enjoying this!” She pointed an accusing finger at him, her mouth agape in astonishment.
“Of course not,” Dean feigned ignorance and stared back her like she was crazy when in actual truth, she’d hit the nail right on the head. “In this place, are you nuts?”
“I am not!” Buffy declared, incredulous. “You are enjoying this! You like mayhem and violence!” She didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed that he was coping with this nightmare so well. Most civilians would have lost their minds by now but Dean looked as much in his element as she. She didn’t know whether she ought to be disturbed or not. What was worse, she shared a little of the euphoria he was feeling.
“I don’t like mayhem and violence,” he protested and then added, “but you got to admit that its kind of liberating getting into a fight where all you need to worry is ganking the monster.”
“You are insane!” She exclaimed exasperated as she retrieved her discarded handbag and started rifling through it. “You’re insane and I’m insane for like….” She kept herself from finishing the sentence because she did not want to make his head any bigger than it already was.
“Insane for what?” He eyed her closely, guessing what she had almost said but couldn’t help not teasing her about it. “For liking me?”
Buffy shoved him and continued searching through her handbag even though it was a given that he was right. Worse yet, it was a rush being here with him because she didn't have to protect him or worry that he couldn't handle himself. Instead with Dean, they were fighting side by side, two warriors in their element engaged in a battle against incredible odds, watching each other's back. Trying not to blush because her body was attuned to his in such an intimate way, she met his gaze directly and declared, “Look we are getting out of here. I don’t want you going all Conan on me and wanting to stay here.”
"You mean the barbarian right? Not the talk show host?" He joked.
"Dean!" She burst out ready to strangle him.
Laughing at her reaction, he assured her in a more serious note because she did have valid concerns. “Counsellor, you have zero reasons to worry about me going off the reservation. I want to get out of here as much as you do but I'm just saying that at least when we're killing monsters here, it’s all pure, you know? I mean haven’t you run into situations where it wasn’t always as simple as putting down the bad guy? That there are complications and consequences that make it hard to figure out what the right thing to do is? Here, there's none of that. Just kill or be killed.”
Buffy looked away guiltily because she did feel that. Over the years, she’d had experiences that changed the basic tenets of what she'd been taught and made it harder to slay indiscriminately. For starters, what Dean considered a demon and what Buffy did were two very different things. His demons were humans possessed by evil spirits that had biblical origins, not to mention some of them were full-on freaking fallen angels. Meanwhile, hers consisted of so many different varieties that it was hard to think of them as spirits when they needed no vessel and had bodies of their own. Furthermore, they weren't all evil.
After reading John Winchester's diary, she had to ask the question if they were demons at all or were they merely members of different species originating from other dimensions. It would certainly make sense when one thought of demons like Clem, Lorne and Merl. Even Glory had come from another dimension. During her attempt to get home, she’d almost brought down the walls of reality, showing Buffy how many dimensions they were, dimensions with different types of beings that existed within the wider tapestry of creation.
“Okay maybe once or twice,” Buffy conceded the point but nothing else because right now, she wanted to do him against the wall because the after-effects of a fight like this were heightened libido. Fortunately, she had more self control than Faith and concentrated on what she was searching for in her bag.
"Here," she handed him a moist towelette from the pack she had kept for emergencies purposes.
Dean took the wet wipe and stared at her with a brow raised. “You got wet wipes in your handbag?” He asked curiously and leaned forward, trying to peer into it to see what other stuff she might have “what else have you got in there?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she bit back at him, suspecting he had a way of 'handling' her that infuriated Buffy to no end. “We are in a life and death situation here. I don’t want you going all alpha male because you’re some kind of adrenaline junkie.”
Taking an experimental whiff of the wipe and after deciding it didn't smell too douchey, Dean cleaned off his face and responded to her statement. "I’m not some danger junkie okay? I just like good, straight-up fights and I'm guessing you do too.” More than ever Dean recognised Buffy as a kindred spirit, who understood what they were built for even if the realisation wasn't always pleasant.
She couldn’t deny his words. Wiping as much of the blood as she could off her face, Buffy knew she missed the fight and worse yet, she missed the clean fights that he'd pointed out. It felt good to unleash the full force of her aggression, pent up for three years due to her 'normal' existence. Until she had come to this place and was forced to fight, Buffy didn’t realise how much she missed it and now wondered when they left this place if she could live without it again.
Or live without fighting by Dean's side again.
There were moments when Sam Winchester wondered if his whole life was a punch line to a joke no one had told him.
He stared through the window of the Impala at the home belonging to one William Scheckly, owner of the Antiquities Store and wondered what game Fate choosing was playing on him now. William Scheckly’s house, with the large tree in the front yard and the fire damage concealed by layers of renovation was the same house where Mary Winchester had burned alive thirty years ago. It was the same house that four-year-old Dean had run out of carrying him, the same one where the Yellow-Eyed Demon, later known as Azazel, had given Sam his first taste of demon blood.
“Dean’s just gonna love this,” Sam muttered his breath, his eyes fixed on the house in front of him. Lights were glowing through the windows, an indicator to all comers that Scheckly was at home. The question to be answered now was whether or not Buffy and Dean were in there too.
Once he’d discovered the cube was gone, Sam and Faith had found the office located at the rear of the store and then proceeded to go through it in search of clues to its origins before they went after the thing again. While there was no record of where the cube had come from, Sam was able to conduct some research on the net later and learn something about its owner and where he now lived. It didn’t take Sam to recognise that the cube’s owner might be as much of a mystery as the object itself.
Until nine years ago, William Scheckly had no history.
There was no record of where he’d been born, of his parents or how he’d manage to live. The first official record of his existence was an employment record at Wal-Mart in Southern California. Following that, he’d worked at a number of jobs, usually at antique stores or more exotically in the occult and Wiccan supply stores. He never stayed long in town and moved from San Diego, San Bernardino and then Los Angeles. After Los Angeles, Scheckly had moved further inland.
He’s settled in Lawrence only recently, opening the Antiquities Store in the newly vacated space at the mall and bought himself a house. Even though it could be pure coincidence that he had chosen that particular house to occupy, Sam was not that optimistic. Eight years ago, Missouri Moseley had claimed that the home's dark past attracted supernatural elements to it. Even though they'd cleansed it of the spirits that resided there, including that of Mary Winchester, there was no guarantee that evil wouldn’t gravitate to the place anyway.
If Scheckly’s cube was responsible for the deaths of Warren Benson and Bob Sherman, then it would appear the house still possessed enough malevolent energy to draw similar entities to it.
Sam wondered what had happened to the family who resided at the house when he and Dean had last visited. Jenny and her two children had been trying to make a new start only to find their home haunted. Had it been too strange living in a house that had almost killed her and her family? Sam couldn’t blame the woman if she’d opted to sell up and move elsewhere and made a mental note to put a call to Missouri and find out for sure when this was over.
“We just going to sit in here Sammy?” Faith finally spoke, disrupting the flow of his reflective thoughts.
Faith stared at the younger Winchester, watching him think his broody thoughts about his home and what had gone down there. When he’d first revealed the history of Scheckly’s new home, Faith had been more than ready to volunteer that let her do the heavy lifting on this one. After all, there was no reason for Sam to reopen old wounds by coming with her. However, the hunter was stubborn and insistent and while Faith considered convincing him with a right hook, she realised she had no right to dissuade him when it was so personal.
Besides, she admired the stones on him for daring to revisit his family home after his mom had gotten toasted there by a demon.
“No we’re going in,” Sam stated firmly, glancing at her briefly before he reached for the car door to get out. “It’s just that Dean and I haven’t been here in eight years. If this is where Scheckly had brought him and Buffy, he’s going to be really pissed when he gets free. We thought we'd cleansed the house the last time we were here, there was a poltergeist haunting," he explained. "We hoped that people could live it in again but it just looks like some evil bastard is always going to be drawn to it.”
Faith merely nodded in understanding as she climbed out of the car and looked at him from across the roof of the car. She wanted to offer some words of sympathy but she just never did sympathy well. Still, Faith had her fair share of tragedy and she understood his bitterness. It was never going back to the places in one's past and learning that time didn't heal all wounds and some would never be redeemed no matter how much one tried to make it otherwise.
Finally, she opted for something that wasn't quite sympathy but showed she got what he was saying. "So let's go get this asshole and rattle him hard until he shakes off B and your bro."
Her words might appear blasé but her eyes spoke volumes. Sam was rather touched by the layer she'd just shown him that was contrary to the flirty, casual vibe she gave out. "Thanks," he replied genuinely grateful and then decided to dispel any awkwardness by moving onto business and laying down some ground rules. Faith's interrogation methods screamed 'break first, questions later' and Sam knew enough to know that never worked...well not all the time.
"I say we try and talk to him first," Sam suggested as they crossed the road to the sidewalk running past the house. "He still thinks I’m FBI so I can get through the door. You sneak in through the back while I keep him busy and see if you can’t look around. I know this house, there’s not a lot of places he could he hide them. If he really doesn’t know anything about the cube, then he might have sold it to someone who does."
Faith was shaking her head even before he got the words out. "My Spidey sense is telling me he’s our guy but we’ll play it your way just to be sure. I’ll do recon and you can decide if he's giving us the runaround or not." Faith replied, agreeing namely because she'd had this argument so many times before with Buffy after going in smart, instead of head first without real information.
As much as he might want to give the man the benefit of the doubt, Sam suspected that Faith was right; this guy knew exactly where Buffy and Dean had gone. However, before they resorted to torturing a human, Sam wanted to ensure they'd tried to reason with him first. "Thanks," he said appreciating her restraint on his behalf.
Faith gestured at Sam that he should try the front door first, while she covered the back. He nodded in agreement to her plan and Faith cut across the lawn, making for the fence while ensuring there was no movement at the curtains that would give her stealth approach away. Leaving Sam behind she had to admit, he was nothing like she'd imagined.
When Giles had asked her to back up B, Faith had been reluctant. While their relationship was never as close as the kind Buffy shared with Willow, she and Faith had reached a kind of friendship based on mutual respect and understanding of each other's 'slayerness'. It felt like questioning B's ability to handle herself by checking up on her and Faith didn't want to provoke any enmity that might damage their carefully constructed friendship.
Still, Giles had made some good points. Buffy had been retired for three years, she was teaming up with 'hunters', a previously unknown element in their battle against supernatural creatures and even more alarming, there was every indicating that Buffy was romantically involved in at least one of them. After Angel, Buffy's ability to pick the wrong guy was infamous and Faith had decided it couldn’t hurt to just drop by and check the guy out.
What she hadn't expected to find that Buffy's guy had a baby brother who reminded Faith a hell of a lot of Angel.
Faith had loved Angel, not in the way Buffy loved him obviously, but she loved him nonetheless. He was her friend and mentor, the only person who dared to look past her crap to see how lonely and frightened she was. In the midst of her despair, when she had hit the very rock bottom of her entire existence, the vampire with a soul had shown Faith how to restore her own. Everything she'd become since then, she owed to him. When Faith had learned he died in Los Angeles, she had wept openly for not being there for him and not telling him what he meant to her even though Angel would be the first to tell her he already knew.
Sam Winchester, with his brooding, unassuming and somewhat straight-laced manner, reminded her of Angel. He bore the same moral core, the same empathy for people and she suspected by the way he clammed up at times, that there was something in his past he was trying to overcome, something that needed redemption. Faith who had made all the wrong choices until it had led her to the very brink of disaster could relate.
***********
While Sam was willing to try the reasoned approach, he wasn’t above beating it out of the man necessary. Nor was he complacent with the fact that Scheckly may not be a man at all. There had been too many times when a monster had worn a human face and this one was no exception. The lack of history for the man prior to nine years ago, certainly meant that Scheckly had gone to great lengths to hide his past, or didn’t have one at all.
Life as a Winchester had taught Sam to never take anyone at face value. Ruby had taught him that to lasting effect.
Coming up to the front door, he heard voices and guessed it was a television screen by the flickering of light through the windows. Sam reached for the fake badge in his jacket, buttoning it up to hide the sawn-off shotgun and the blades strapped to his arm and his leg.
William Scheckly opened the door and took Sam’s presence at his doorstep with a little surprise. If anything, Sam almost felt he was expected.
“Agent Sambora isn’t it?” The man asked politely.
“Yes that’s right,” Sam replied promptly, playing the part of the G-man with appropriate authority, “I’m sorry to bother you at your home but we’ve had a break in the case and I think you may be able to help us. May we talk inside?”
“Of course,” Scheckly answered amiably and retreated into the house. Whether or not he bought the excuse, Sam could not say however Scheckly did not hesitate to open his home to Sam as he waited for the supposed FBI agent to step through the doorway.
Sam followed Scheckly in the parlour, trying not to appear obvious as he scanned the rooms en route. The house remained very much the same as when he and Dean were last there eight year ago. There were notable differences in decor since the place was previously occupied by a woman with children and was now home to a middle-aged bachelor. Bright, pastel colours had been replaced with comfortable, earthy tones kept the place as homely as before.
Once inside the parlour, Scheckly immediately muted the volume on the television set now that he had a guest.
"Please sit down,"' he gestured to a comfortable brown leather armchair in the corner of the room, a companion piece to the lounge that he lowered himself into as he waited for Sam to settle himself.
"You had a break, you say?" Scheckly asked.
"Yes," Sam answered with a nod, conscious that Faith was at this moment, sneaking into the place through some alternate means. "It appears that all the victims might have handled an object in your store. I wonder if it’s still in stock or has it been sold?"
"Really?" Scheckly showed no signs of anxiety. "Which object would this be? As you can imagine, I have quite the collection.” There was no bragging in his tone, just a statement of fact.
"It’s a puzzle cube," Sam replied automatically, watching Scheckly closely for any reaction. "I saw it there myself yesterday. It opens up to show a dancing figure but the mechanism that makes the music is damaged."
"Yes, its curious isn't it?" Scheckly smiled baring impossibly white teeth and a grin wide enough to split his face in half and made Sam think of a Batman villain just looking at him. "The music is only heard when a sacrifice is required and then the doorway to the other world appears." Then he added quickly before Sam asked more questions, "So I was told by the merchant I bought it from."
Sam didn't think that there was another merchant and the mention of sacrifices and the otherworld sent a chill down his spine as to what fate might be intended for Buffy and Deana and what was this talk about another world? Exactly where had Dean and Buffy gone? "Otherworld?" He asked calmly, betraying nothing.
“The Razor Realm," Scheckly explained, understanding now that this boy was no FBI agent but played along with the charade for the moment. "There is no greater conjurer of fear and degradation than the human animal. In the waking world our base desires, the most succulent of our primate needs and violent pleasures are trapped by the conventions of propriety and supposed civilised behaviours. Only when we sleep are we truly free to be the animal, free of all inhibition, freed of our fears. Every terrible thing we imagine is given life in our dreams and once life is given, it cannot be taken away. The Lord of the Razor Realm knows this and so he brings them to him, he gives them a home. All fears lead to him and that that is the power of the Razor Realm.”
"He takes nightmares?" Sam swallowed, not liking what this meant one damn bit. “Which ones?"
Scheckly flashed Sam that same malevolent grin and then answered, “Why all of them of course."
***********
WARNING: ADULT SCENE
Buffy didn’t know how Dean managed it.
It felt like they’d been doing this for days even though they had been trapped in this strange place for only a few hours. Their bodies seemed to be in a state of limbo as they felt neither hungry nor thirsty, despite the fact that it had been hours since either of them had been given nourishment. The only constant in this place had been the monsters that emerged at regular intervals for them to fight. Freakish little girls, ghouls, vampires, creatures so bizarre that no name could be put to them, had appeared out of the wall since their arrival, attempting to kill them.
Buffy’s own slayer endurance was starting to feel the strain and she was frankly quite astonished at how Dean was still on his feet. Earlier she had accused him of enjoying this nightmare however, she had time to change her mind on that belief. It wasn’t that he enjoyed it; it was more that he was born to it. Dean seemed in his element in a way Buffy had never felt, even as the Slayer. Hunting as he called it was what he did best and as she saw him fight, without any special abilities, taking blows and then delivering them, she had to admit he was as capable of any slayer or vampire she had fought alongside.
Their latest enemy had been horrifying creatures that looked like something out of HR Geiger’s mind. Tentacles, sharp teeth and phallic-looking appendages that made her skin crawl even as she hacked them to bits and pieces. She and Dean had developed a kind of rapport fighting and they watched each other’s back. He’d used their makeshift blades to fight even though he had a gun but he’d said he wanted to save those for something they truly couldn’t handle and while Buffy didn’t want to know what that was, she understood the reasoning.
Dean brought down the blade across the elongated head of the creature. He’d only managed to get the drop on it after hacking off part of its leg, beneath the joint of what appeared to be its knee cap. The creature screeched, its eyeless head swivelling in Dean’s direction, splattering green, slime across his shirt as the blade tore through its grey flesh. The head slid to the ground like a piece of sliced fruit, hitting the dark floor with a loud sickly splat. Dean’s eyes lifted to Buffy’s once the monster was dead, reassuring himself that she was alright.
Buffy’s arm was bleeding, one of the creature’s deadly claws having ripped through her blouse and across her bicep. The blood had soaked through her white shirt but the pain was already starting to fade. Even though he knew she healed fast, he didn’t like the idea of seeing her hurt. Dean had become accustomed to her resiliency, relying on it because that meant she could take care of herself.
“Hey, you okay…” he started to say when Buffy rushed at him.
“Catch me!” Buffy shouted and jumped at him. Dean caught her under the arms but Buffy had twisted her body so that her feet had landed on the wall. Holding on to him, Buffy used the support he provided to run along the wall so that she could swing herself at the creature that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere to ambush Dean from behind. Her booted feet slammed into the side of the monster's head, dislodging it from the wall and propelled it to the ground in a tangle of limbs and tail.
Dean realised what she was doing and kept a firm grip of her beneath the arms, flipping her across his back when she'd delivered her blow and then swung her around him like they were doing an old fashioned jitterbug from the '40s. Fred and Ginger, eat your fucking heart out, Dean thought with a grin as she landed smoothly in his arms again while hers were coiled around his neck. It was hot as hell and as Dean saw the darkened blue of her eyes, he guessed she thought so too.
The creature, shaking its head to dispel its disorientation, scrambled to its feet and lunged at them. Acting on pure instinct and unaware that they were acting as one, Dean and Buffy flashed their blades at the same time. He flung his weapon at the thing, the sword/blade striking the creature in the middle of its misshapen skull, while Buffy slashed it open in mid-thorax. It approached no further than that, collapsing in a dead heap less than two feet away from them, green blood and viscera spurting out from multiple wounds.
Neither Buffy nor Dean spoke for a few moments as they clung to each other, breathing hard and staring at the grisly aftermath of this latest melee. Both were still panting, the adrenaline rush of the battle had yet to subside in either one of them. As they looked at each other, Buffy could feel the familiar surge of primitive lust that overtook her once she had finished the kill. Unlike Faith, she'd always had a handle on her ability to maintain control but in this place, when they were two warriors fighting for survival with nothing but each other to rely on, it was impossible to dispel.
Whether or not, Dean knew what was in her mind, Buffy could not say but without warning, though not unwelcomed, he pulled her forward suddenly to capture her mouth in a brutal but passionate kiss. It was nothing like the tendered, feathered exchange in her backyard. This was raw, hungry and so consuming that she had no defence against it. Swept away by the ferocious tide of his desire, Buffy felt her head swim, the neurons in her brain misfiring as she tried to regain control but Dean was having none of it. He was a force of nature and she was firmly in his grip.
He didn't know what he had been thinking when he kissed her, knowing only that he had to. This place unleashed him in a way he hadn't felt free since returning from Purgatory. Dean knew he was riding the high that came from being able to kill every evil son of a bitch they threw at him. He was in his element here, revelling in the knowledge that he was finally doing what he was best at, what the last thirty years had moulded him into; the best goddamn hunter there was.
Riding that euphoria, Dean plundered Buffy's mouth, ignoring her surprise and her momentary hesitation because he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. They were kindred spirits the both of them, warriors on the battlefield who could find solace with each other in the eye of the storm. He wanted her to know that, wanted her to understand that he had her back, that all she had to do was call and he'd be there. Whether or not she realised it yet, Dean knew he was her creature. After this, how could he be anything else?
Dean always thought his place was looking after Sam but Sam had made it clear in the last year that the feeling wasn't mutual, that someday he wanted a life that was far removed from the one they shared now. Dean hadn't understood why at first but eventually he remembered he'd once wanted a normal life for Sam too. The years of crap they'd endured had made him forget. Maybe now he found Buffy, it was okay to let Sammy go. The realisation was a watershed moment and Dean let the emotion of it pour into his demanding exploration of her mouth.
His tongue duelled wetly with hers as they conducted a sensuous struggle for dominance he intended to win. Dean hadn't realised he'd backed her into the wall, giving her no place to escape as his lips continued its plunder, his body pressing so hard against hers, he could feel her heart pounding against his. When she groaned into his mouth, it was a sound of such complete surrender, he shuddered at how quickly it travelled from his ears to his cock.
"Oh God," Buffy whimpered when she felt the growing hardness pressing into her belly. The sensation generated a corresponding surge of desire that liquefied her insides, making her want him even more. The vivid imagery of what he planned on doing with that erection made her wet just imagining it. Somewhere in the midst of her scrambled thoughts, she questioned what they were doing. This was insane, she told herself. Monsters could jump out at them at any time. And yet even as the thought crossed her mind, Buffy was pulling at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin under her palms.
Dean became vaguely aware of his shirt buttons popping free and glanced down to see them skittering away from his feet when they hit the floor. He raised his eyes to hers and saw the smouldering need in them. Curling his lips into a teasing smirk, Dean did the same to her shirt. He thought she might protest when he parted the soiled fabric of her shirt, leaving only the scrap of a lacy bra between him and her bare flesh however, Buffy did nothing of the kind.
Instead, Buffy lowered her head to his neck and began plying it with soft, uncertain bites and kisses, introducing him to the sweet ecstasy of pleasure and pain. Dean let his head drop back, enjoying the sensation of her lips against his flesh. Still the way she touched him made Dean wonder how long it had been for her.
"Christ Counsellor," Dean uttered a grunt that was part impatience, part frustration. Unhooking her bra in the front, the soft lace fell away to reveal perfectly, round, tanned breasts with nipples so taut with arousal, they jutted impatiently for his touch. His mouth near watered at the sight of them, sending him into a lust so black, he was barely aware that he was injured. Sliding his hand hands beneath her gloriously firm ass, Dean lifted her up, bracing her back against the wall. Buffy reacted instinctively, her legs coiling around his waist while her arms encircled his neck.
“This is crazy…” she launched a meek protest as she looked down at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair mussed up and her shirt splayed open for all to see. “We shouldn’t be doing this….”
However, Dean didn’t give her a chance to finish the sentence because his mouth enclosed a pert nipple began suckling insistently. Her reaction was sharp immediate. He felt her back bending like a bow, pushing more of herself past his lips. He swirled his tongue, teasing the tip while she whimpered and squirmed, crying out his name in abandon.
God, she was so fucking hot, he didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything sweeter.
“Oh, Dean….” She mewled, her mind overloading from sensation. There was nothing else she could do as she felt his tongue suck and tease her. Buffy’s fingers ran through his hair mindlessly, wondering if this felt so good because of the danger. She could feel slick damp between her legs as he nursed on her, the heat he had to be feeling against him.
Dean didn’t respond to her voice so hungry with need, continuing instead to ravish her breasts until he left red marks against her skin. He was so hard he could barely think and the warmth he could feel between her legs provoked a hunger in him so fierce he could barely control it. Each time she whimpered, each time she said his name like that, it was all he could do to keep from bending her over and taking her there and then.
Lowering her to the ground, Dean pulled away reluctantly from her chest and reclaimed her lips, plying her mouth with the hard, demanding kisses. He pulled away for a moment, caressing her chin as he lowered his gaze to her anxious eyes and saw that as much as she wanted him, he also saw hesitation and fear. Wanting to erase that look from her face more than his next breath, Dean lowered, his lips trailing damp kisses down her belly.
Raising his eyes to hers, his expression was soft and tender as he spoke to her in a tone one would use to a frightened colt, “You don’t have to be afraid Counsellor,” he promised sincerely, “I’ll never hurt you like he did.”
Buffy’s breath hitched as she heard those words, her eyes moistening because at that instant, she realised this wasn’t just about lust for him. She watched tantalized while he unbuttoned her pants, rolled the fabric down her thighs, all the while licking her mound through the lacy fabric of her thong. Buffy closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away by the pleasure engendered by his expert touch, barely thinking as she shimmied out of her pants and kicking off her boots.
This is crazy, she told herself again as she stood before him, shirt opened, breasts exposed, wearing only a thong while the rest of her clothes were pooled at her feet. This was how people got killed. And yet when looked down at him and was greeted by a predatory smile of cocky assurance, she knew she was never going to be able to resist him.
“I’m going make you feel so good, Counsellor…” Dean breathed just before he lifted her leg over his shoulder and pulled aside her thong to lean in for a long, deep lick from crack to clit.
She was crying out his name before he’d even gotten halfway there. The burst of pleasure was so sharp that Buffy almost screamed. It had been so long since she’d been treated to such oral ministrations that her mind overloaded from exquisite sensations. Not that he was about to let her catch her breath because his tongue was soon swirling around her clit, washing the tiny pearl with the broad side of his tongue as his lips massaged her outer folds.
“Dean…oh God…Dean…” she whimpered completely undone, hating that she sounded so needy because she was sure he was loving every breathy plea but unable to bear him stopping. The stubble on his chin was creating delicious friction against her flesh and Buffy was begging him not to stop as she pulled him closer.
Dean paused long enough to produce a satisfied grin before he returned to the work at hand or rather mouth. Spreading her apart with his fingers he began fucking her with his tongue, thrusting up the same taut, slick passageway his cock would soon take. After seeing her fight, seeing the power she exuded when she took on monsters that defied reason, knowing that he could reduce her to this was a fucking high that had no comparison.
Dean wanted her to make Buffy come, wanted to hear his name as she did it, wanted to satisfy some misogynistic fantasy of dominance but most of all, he wanted to make her feel that sex didn’t always lead to heartache. It surprised him how much Dean wanted that more than anything.
“Yeah baby,” Dean answered her as he pulled away and inserted two fingers into the slick, wet passage, pumping furiously while massaging her clit with his thumb. “You like that don’t you? Like me tasting you.”
And just to drive home his raunchy words, Buffy saw through half-lidded eyes, him removing his thumb to tease her clit between his teeth once again. He continued his oral assault until her body was quaking with the coming of an orgasm so splendid, it might shatter her into a thousand pieces.
“Yes Dean,” she begged, “yes, please, don’t stop…” he words were becoming gibberish and all she cared was what that beautiful mouth was doing to her. She hadn’t felt this good in so long, hadn’t remembered how it felt to be so unfettered and attune to another human being. It seemed like he knew just the right thing to make her come.
And she did, wonderfully, sinfully and without any ability to control it. Buffy threw her head back and came with a scream of pleasure so sharp, she rode his mouth as he drank her like he was draining her of her soul. The orgasm was so blinding, so intense that she almost saw stars. He was so good, she thought disjointedly, he was so fucking good.
Then before she had time to come down, Dean was on his feet, taking her by the hips and spinning her around, flattening her chest against the wall. She felt her cheek scrape against the hard surface and there was a moment of clarity when she heard a zipper being pulled. It was the last sane thought she had before her spine stiffened as he drove himself all the way into her. For the second time that night, she cried out his name as she felt every exquisite inch of his cock driving into her body.
"Oh…fuck….” Dean groaned into her ear as he held onto her hips and drove his cock into her warm, wet, still clenching cunt. He buried himself to the balls, needing a moment to adjust as his brain temporarily lost all ability to think clearly because of how incredibly tight she was. Somewhere in the part of his mind that still had coherence, Dean hoped he hadn’t hurt her. However, she’d been so wet he’d been able to ride the slick of her orgasm straight to her core until he could go no further.
“Oh Counsellor,” he breathed in that slow drawl into her ear as his thrusts started to pick up momentum. “You are so goddamn tight I could cry.” With that, he pushed in hard again, drawing out another whimper of surrender from her as he reached the end. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist as she braced herself against the wall with both hands. Buffy arched her back and stood on tiptoes to accommodate him. His free hand latched onto a breast, teasing a nipple as he whispered in her ear, “Tell me what you want baby.”
Buffy knew what she wanted. She wanted him to move. He filled so completely, stretched her so beautifully she could almost cry and she did not want it to end, ever. This whole situation was still beyond her ability to process but him doing this to her was not wrong, nor was how he made her feel.
“Fuck me,” her voice breaking like the surf against the rocks. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Always give the lady what she wants,” Dean teased wearing a smug smile, her fevered demand a trophy he would savour for some time to come.
He started moving again, his strokes long and slow at first, making her feel every inch of him. Dean had to maintain his own control as her insides shuddered with pre-orgasmic flutters against his thick shaft. Each time he reached the end, he pushed up hard, ensuring his cockhead made contact with the delicious barrier that made her squeal his name like a fucking porn star. Hearing her gorgeous voice while he was fucking her was perhaps the biggest rush of all.
Buffy was rocking her hips to the rhythm he’d set, her head tossed back, her blond hair swaying across her as he continued to piston in and out of her moist depths. The grunts he made in her ear with each stroke told her that he was getting close and was as out of his mind as she was. This wasn’t lovemaking, far from it. It was shameless animal fucking and Buffy was a slave to it, slave to him who could make her feel this way. She could feel her insides clenching again, could feel the prelude to orgasm coming for her once more.
“Oh God Dean…I’m…I’m…” she couldn’t finish it because she couldn’t think any more, her body was too lost in the pleasure he was forcing her to endure. Instead, she turned her head towards him and Dean immediately covered Buffy’s lips in a sloppy open-mouthed kiss that had no purpose but to drive this coupling to its glorious end.
Dean didn’t answer or rather couldn’t when he felt Buffy scream his name one last time before she came hard. Those delicious flutters along his shaft had become thousands of fingertips massaging his cock with exquisite pressure. Uttering a wordless cry, his control was gone and they reached completion together with Dean gripping Buffy’s hips tight as he emptied his seed into her warm depths. He felt no arrogance or triumph at taking her, just reverence at being able to worship at the altar of her flesh.
When they began to settle in post-orgasmic bliss, Dean leaned against her body and kissed the back of her neck tenderly before saying breathlessly, “I don’t care if we die here or not but that was so fucking worth it.”
“…all of them.”
“Where are they?” Sam Winchester demanded after hearing those words, dropping all pretext at being an FBI agent because Scheckly’s smug explanation didn’t just reek of any impending doom yet to happen but rather of one that had already taken place. His explanation of the Razor Realm was too much like Purgatory for Sam’s comfort and if that’s where Dean and Buffy had been sent, the younger Winchester had no damn idea how to get them back. Worse yet, he'd just gotten his brother back. Sam didn't know he could take another of Dean being gone, trapped someplace that he could never reach.
“Who?” Scheckly’s eerie smile seemed to grow broader even though he was feigning innocence at any complicity in their disappearance.
“My brother and his friend,” Sam snapped, his hand reaching for the sawn-off under his jacket. “They came to your store this afternoon. They haven’t been heard from since. You’re telling me you don’t know anything about it?”
“Haven’t a clue...” Scheckly replied smugly. “Young man and a pretty girl like that, they could be anywhere.” He emphasized the last word with a sneer.
Sam’s patience broke at that moment. Jumping out of his chair, he was on Scheckly in a minute, stamping a foot against the man’s chest, his shotgun aimed squarely at Scheckly’s face. “Where are they?” He demanded, more than prepared to shoot if he wasn't answered appropriately.
Scheckly’s eyes narrowed with wicked malevolence. “Where do you think? I gave them to the Razor Realm. My master demands fresh meat for the grinder and your brother and his slut were very tasty indeed. I'm sure they've masticated him by now and her, so many moist places to explore and tear...”
Sam jammed his foot harder against Scheckly’s chest at the sickening thought until he heard bone crack but he wasn’t about to pull his punches if this asshole knew where Dean and Buffy were and more importantly, how to get them out of this so-called Razor Realm.
“How did you send them there? Did you use the cube? Where is it?”
“You know nothing about the cube. It’s a nexus between the soft places of creation. Even brief contact with it allows the Razor Realm to invade your reality.” Scheckly crowed while straining against Sam’s boot but showing little sign of fear perhaps because he knew Sam wouldn’t harm him if he wanted Dean and Buffy returned.
Not that Scheckly was intended to do anything of the kind of course because the boy was under the mistaken impression he was helpless.
He was not.
“That’s what happened to Benson and Sherman?” Sam demanded again, taking the opportunity to learn as much as he could about this place he'd never heard of before. The Razor Realm. “We touched it and it opened this…this…nexus to the Razor Realm?” He thought about the dust they’d found at each of the sites where the victims had been killed. Benson was waylaid by whatever horror that frightened him the most in that alley while Sherman was murdered by his fear of spiders in his own office. Even Buffy and he had been violated in seemingly impregnable locations.
The monsters hadn’t come after them; they’d invited the things in.
“You’re smarter than you look, boy,” Scheckly sneered, “but that’s not going to help you now.”
“Oh yeah…?” Sam returned and pushed down his foot against the man’s chest even harder but Scheckly didn’t seem to notice it and in a second, neither did Sam.
Scheckly's skull started to expand and stretch like someone inflating a beach ball. Blisters came to life beneath his increasingly elastic skin, stretching to its limit as his bones continued to grow. His eyes turned black before his eyeballs began to bulge out of their sockets. His pupils vanished into the sickly dark of compound eyes and his flesh tore to reveal the dark green hide of something monstrous.
He started to smile again, maintaining the same unperturbed façade that infuriated Sam to no end and made him want to blow the son of a bitch’s head off. However, Sam knew to do that was to risk losing Dean and Buffy to whatever craziness Scheckly had sent them into.
As Scheckly’s mouth widened, Sam saw the corners of his mouth started to tear when his skull outgrew the mask of flesh he was wearing. Rivulets of blood rolled down the ruined skin, revealing triangular white teeth that were inches long and resembled fangs. A slithery pink tongue snaked through the razor-sharp points as Scheckly slapped a hand on Sam's ankle and hissed. "Now perhaps you understand you’ve bitten off more than you chew.”
With that, he shoved Sam with such force that the younger Winchester was flung through the air, slamming into the wall so hard that the drywall he landed against cracked, creating a small crater where Sam’s shoulder had impacted. Sam felt something buckle and was immediately assaulted by exquisite agony when he felt something pop out with a sickly squelch. The agonising pain forced him to release the shotgun and he knew he'd dislocated his shoulder. Maybe Dean was right after all; the trials were ensuring that he was no longer in any shape to keep hunting the way he was.
Unfortunately, as he saw the rest of Scheckly’s human visage shed away from the growing bulk of the creature he was transforming into, Sam had a sneaking suspicion; he may not be around to hear Dean say ‘I told you so’.
***********
When they had gone their separate ways, Faith had continued up the sidewalk searching for the best way to break into the house while Sam parlayed with Scheckly for information. She suspected that she had very little time to do what he’d asked because the guy had to know someone was onto him already. If he had taken down B and Sammy’s big brother, then Scheckly had to assume someone else would come looking for them and was expecting trouble. If so, he’d be on his guard and Sam’s appearance at his door might be akin baiting the hook with the worm.
Of course, Faith hadn’t told Sammy that when she agreed to his plan. Let him discover that surprise by himself, she sniggered inwardly.
The tall ornamental trees and boxwood shrugs that separated Scheckly’s home from his neighbours also provided enough shadows to allow Faith a concealed approach to the rear of the house. She heard Sam trying to con his way in distantly as she moved soundlessly through the darkness, more than adept at making a stealthy advance after years of sneaking around vampires who could hear better than bats. Once she was passed the frontage, she skirted the far wall surveying each window as she passed it.
Most of his curtains were drawn so other than a glimpse of the crack between them through the dark, there was little she could make out and that added another trace of confirmation that he was their bad guy. Obviously, he didn't want anyone seeing what he did within the walls of his home. Or he could like privacy, her cautionary voice reminded. The voice which she'd never admitted sounded like Sunnydale's previous mayor, tended to be heard when she felt she might be making impulsive choices.
She was halfway down the path that ran alongside the house when she came across the seven-foot wooden fence that was no obstacle for her as she clambered over it. Her only concern as she dropped to her feet on the other side was the presence of a dog if Scheckly had one. She liked dogs and wouldn't want to harm one if it threatened to give her away.
Fortunately, no Doberman or Shih Tzu was there to greet her when she entered Scheckly's back yard. It was bare except for a spinning clothesline and a tin shed in the corner of the small yard. The grass was patchy and dry, indicating the guy wasn't much of a gardener as Faith walked up the wooden steps to the door. When she reached it, she found the door was locked and didn't waste any time applying a little slayer strength to the mechanism and destroying the lock with one sharp twist of the knob.
She slipped into through the kitchen which though clean, seemed dated. The Formica and linoleum had taken the stain of age and it all seemed to bleed into a dreary state of off-white. She scanned it for a second or two and proceeded to search the house. She heard footsteps in the other room and paused until they'd gone into the living room before she continued her reconnaissance.
The first level offered nothing of interest, bathroom, laundry, separate toilet and the study. She snuck into the study, surveying the books on the shelves and noted that most of them were in languages she couldn't read and appeared as antique as the objects in the man's store. They were leather-bound and had that musty smell which always reminded Faith of the library where Giles had kept most of his books. If Buffy were here; Faith was sure that the Chosen would find it nostalgic, Faith just found it dusty.
Rifling through the contents of roll-top desk, Faith found little of interest, papers, a security cam cassette and a couple of knickknacks that had yet to be catalogued. There was no sign of Sam's mysterious cube but then if it was the object that they believed it to be, Scheckly wouldn't keep it out in the open. He'd probably had it upstairs, she thought glancing above when suddenly she heard shouting. Faith's neck jerked up to listen for a moment until a loud crash jolted her into action.
She was racing out of the study a split second after, covering the span of the hallway in a few short strides towards the source of the commotion which was emanating from the living room. Faith skidded across the threshold of the room’s doorway when she saw Sam Winchester picking himself off the floor. Blood was running down his nose and the unusual angle of his shoulder told her that he’d dislocated it.
What had flung all six foot four of him was standing way much taller with a misshapen head that nearly bumped against the ceiling when it straightened up. It looked reptilian except that it was hunched over with a clearly hominid skeletal structure, with legs bent and arms balancing its bulk against the floor. It raised its head away from Sam and Faith saw herself reflected in the facets of his compound eyes. It tilted its head and reared up, uttering a below of indignation at the invasion of its home.
"You just make life interesting don't you Sammy?" Faith quipped but there was no trace of humour in her voice.
"Don't kill it!" Sam warned as he saw her reaching inside her coat, "It knows where Dean and Buffy are. It sent them somewhere!"
The creature started to laugh as if it found the notion of them sparing it was highly amusing. Considering that it towered above them both, perhaps not an unwarranted conceit, Sam thought.
"I think you overestimate your abilities boy. I will crack your skull and drink you dry before I devour every layer of flesh left!" It spat at them, viscous green fluid splattering about from its distended jaw.
"You’re getting me hot sunshine," Faith retorted and removed the sheath of the knife she had hidden in her coat as the creature closed in on Sam. The blade was a variation of a Malaysian Kris. It had a curvy blade that tapered into a sharp point with a wooden hilt carved with figures of that country’s mythology.
The creature appeared more interested in Sam as it lunged towards the young hunter. Sam leapt out of the way even though the movement was excruciating. He let out a groan of pain that had his eyes watering as the creature slammed into the same crater he had created earlier when it had flung him against the wall. Scheckly spun around on his crouched legs, his massive arms lashing out. Sam felt the sharp scrape of sharp talons across his back. The thick fabric of the jacket saved him from having his spine ripped open.
“Hey, handsome! How about picking on someone your own size?” Faith jumped on top of Scheckly’s back, locking her arm around his thick neck before plunging the point into the saucer-sized shoulder blade. It sank through the tough hide aided in part due to the sharpness of the blade and also because Faith was driving it with slayer strength. Scheckly bellowed with outrage and tried to shake Faith off as the ooze that passed for his blood pulsated from the open wound.
“I’ve shit bigger than you,” Scheckly snarled, swinging about violently to dislodge her.
Meanwhile, Sam had stumbled into the hall, his arm hanging limply at his side. Face contorted in pain, he sucked in a deep breath and braced himself for what came next. Painfully aware of the fight taking place in the next room, he couldn’t be out of play for too long. Stomach clenching, Sam grit his teeth and slammed his dislocated shoulder against the wall and popped it back into place with another burst of white-hot agony that lanced through his body. Sam cried out loud, unable to hold it back no matter how much he tried. Almost blinded by the pain, he allowed himself no more than a few seconds to recover before he hurried back into the fight.
Faith was still holding onto the creature and had managed to stab it on the back again. However, Scheckly was still on its feet, trying to tear her off by slamming into walls, until every piece of furniture in the room was near destroyed. Suddenly, Faith saw something sharp began to protrude through his back that wasn’t there before. She had about a split second to realise what it was when the sharp, spinal ridges emerged from his hide, threatening to skewer her.
Faith released her grip but not before one of the spines ripped her t-shirt open, cutting a gash that ran from the top of her navel to her cleavage. It wasn’t very deep but stung nevertheless. She dropped to the floor on her ass, the pain running through her spine as Scheckly turned around and prepared to attack. The blade still in her hand, Faith flipped her body upright, landing on one knee as she swung her arm in a wide slash. The knife caught him across the chest and more black blood splattered across her t-shirt. In reaction, he lashed out faster than she gave him credit, the blow striking her across the jaw and sending her sprawling
Faith landed in the broken wreckage of the sofa, reeling from the force of the punch. It took something incredibly strong to disorientate her and as she struggled to regain her equilibrium, heard the beastie hiss with triumph. “I’m going to pull off your limbs like a fly and eat what’s left.”
“Yeah good luck with that,” Sam Winchester declared as he stepped through the doorway, armed with a sawn-off shotgun and fired.
The blast hit Scheckly in the side and he staggered sideways and before Sam pumped the gun again and fired a second shot. This one caught Scheckly in the leg, bringing him down to one knee. He made another desperate lunge at Sam who pulled the trigger for the third time. This time the blast caught Scheckly full in the face. His grotesque features exploding in an eruption of blood and dark flesh. Sam fired once more, discharging the last shell in the chamber to obliterate what was left of Scheckly’s features. He hadn’t meant to kill the son of a bitch but there didn’t seem to be a choice now.
Slayer or not, Faith wasn’t invincible.
Scheckly staggered backwards once more and then tumbled over. His fall was halted by the wall behind him and upon landing against it, slumped to the floor. There was no reaction from his ruined, featureless face as the bulk of him slid to the floor, unmoving. His compound greyed over, like the facets of a diamond misting over one at a time. Black blood expanded in a thick, viscous pool where he’d fallen, soaking the carpet and seeping through the cracks of the wooden floor.
Sam let out a sigh of relief, lowering the gun in his hand before wiping the blood running down his nose. He succeeded in smearing it across his face when he turned to Faith. She was still on the floor, prompting him to take a step towards her with his hand extended.
“Are you okay?” He asked full of concern, taking note of the gash running down her chest. “You’re hurt.”
Faith stared at him for a moment, holding his gaze before dispelling the private thought running through her head at the moment to the ether. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She took his hand and stood up a little shakily before commenting, “Not bad for a civilian.”
“You saved my ass,” Sam pointed out, “Thought I ought to do the same.”
Blood rushing through her veins at being denied the kill and yet feeling some wholly uncharacteristic admiration at how he had come in and saved her, Faith reacted the way she always reacted when someone hit her in the right spots. Without giving him a chance to react, she yanked him down by the shirt and captured his lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration and adrenalin surging through her veins into that one exchange.
There was liquid fire in her kiss and as her tongue invaded his mouth like the peasants storming the castle, it took a moment for Sam to process what was happening. His head swooned by how incredible she tasted and felt, like the demon blood he used to get high on. It filled with a sense of power while at the same time terrified him. He wanted to revel in her, revel in the kiss but he couldn't; not now. Not with Dean and Buffy missing and not with his body deconstructing one heavenly trial at a time.
"Faith...Wait...." Sam finally gathered enough resolve to pull away but Christ it was hard. At that moment, he'd like nothing better than to let her have her way with him but they had bigger problems right now. "Stop,” he insisted.
Faith pulled back and Sam caught a glimpse of blush on her cheeks that did not belong to the strong confident, aggressive woman of a second ago. She looked like someone who had been caught doing something she shouldn't have been and he felt sorry for making her feel that way.
"Sorry," she apologised, unable to meet his gaze. "It’s a slayer thing."
"A slayer thing?" Sam's brows arched in surprise and his stomach sank in disappointment, realising that the kiss was just the by-product of her slayer physiology and not because she liked him or anything.
"Yeah," She nodded, "post-fight, we get strong urges." She replied, pretending to examine the wound on her chest extra closely so as to not be any more embarrassed than she already felt. "It kind of makes us super horny."
"Oh," Sam said unable to think of what to say to that. Thank God Dean wasn't here, Sam thought. His older brother would have been crowing that he'd hit the fucking lottery. Thinking of Dean made Sam remember their situation and he decided this was a conversation better served for another time. Turning towards Scheckly's dead body, he saw the man's remains and cursed, "I shouldn't have killed him."
As he walked past her, saying nothing more about their exchange and focussing on business, Faith stared at his back convinced with a faint smile that he'd wanted her too. The heat in the few seconds that he'd kissed her back was unmistakable but it seemed, wrapped in that package of courage and intelligence, was also decency. He'd let it go without making some jackassy remark and she liked that; and him.
"Sometimes, it just plays out the way it’s gonna play."
Sam cast her a glance but couldn’t be consoled, "but now we have no way of knowing how to get Buffy and Dean back. He could have told us about this Razor Realm he'd sent them to."
True, Faith thought silently but neither was she about to pin her hopes on a monster who had been prepared to kill them both. "Look, I haven't searched all of this place yet and if we don't find the cube here, we'll put a call to Giles and figure something out."
Sam nodded but he had the sinking feeling that they were running out of time.
***********
They'd gotten dressed again and cleaned up without saying a word.
No monster had jumped out at them while Dean had held Buffy for a few minutes in post-orgasmic bliss, breathing in the scent of her hair, relishing the silk of her skin pressed against his bare chest. He knew he was so gone. She fucking owned him now and for once he didn't mind. Maybe it was the sex talking but being with her made him start to understand his dad a little more. Life without mom had driven John Winchester crazy, had made him forget he had sons not two hunters in the making. It was the only way he’d been able to cope being without her.
When they started walking again, the tension was thick and palpable. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell her about what she meant to him. However the talking, that was Sammy's thing, not Dean's. He hadn't done it since Lisa and there was always a part of him that knew that it couldn't last with her. When it had ended, it had broken his heart but Dean had also known it was for the best. He couldn’t protect her or Ben all the time nor could he stay.
"Look, I'm going to say it," she spoke up first breaking the silence.
It was no surprise to Dean of course. If either of them was going to talk about what had happened between them, it was sure to be her.
"What happened back there was amazing," she said unafraid to admit it. "It’s what exactly what I needed but I don't expect anything from you. I know once we're out of here, you'll be gone and that's okay. I understand the life. I lived it. It’s hard on the people we care about. It’s even worse when they get hurt. You want to protect them from all the monsters in the world but you can't. You're in my heart but I understand you'll be moving on so you don't have to worry about me. Being a slayer I can protect myself but I don't want you to feel obligated to me just because we got groiny."
"Groiny?" Dean looked at her, listening to her rambling and wondered if she knew that even half of what she was talking about sometimes. He doubted it and while some of what she had to say made sense a lot of it didn’t and also underestimated him quite a bit. “What are you twelve?”
“So not the way to talk to the girl you just had sex with,” Buffy pouted, punching him lightly on the arm.
Dean chuckled softly, “I can’t help it, I’m not up on how to describe sex using rainbow unicorns and little heart shapes.”
"Don't be a jerk," she complained dropping her gaze to her feet, slightly offended at his teasing. "I'm trying to make this easy for you."
"Well thank you for that Counsellor," Dean stopped in mid-step, reminded he was a little irate at the assumptions she made about him in her earlier speech, "but how about you shut up and let me talk for a sec?"
Buffy shot him an icy glare. How could he make her feel the way he had earlier and then follow it up with behaviour that made her want to bash his head in? The guy was infuriating! Buffy grumbled to herself as she stopped next to him, her arms folded. Smouldering while she gave him the silence he asked for.
"Firstly," he said staring at her. "Back there was awesome. Better than the twins in Reno and the surfer chick in Venice, awesome. Secondly, thanks for giving me the obligation-free fuck but I didn't ask for it. I don't know how we're going to work things out when we get out of here but I can tell you that I'm not going to drive out of town and forget you exist. That back there, wouldn't have been as great as it was if I thought you were just a one night stand I'd never see again. This thing we got going, you gotta know how rare it is. You're the slayer so I know you can take care of yourself and you know I'm a hunter so you don't gotta worry about me either. Don't you think that's worth hanging on to?"
Buffy couldn’t find the words to respond so she nodded quietly instead.
"And for the record, you're in my heart too so before this becomes the last act of a bad Jennifer Lopez chick flick, let's concentrate on getting out of here, yeah?"
It was hard to disagree with him when he was right. Had she become that jaded with relationships and men? In the distance, she picked up the sound of something in the background, was that wind? It sounded like something being dragged against the floor. She surveyed the length of the wall and saw nothing before regarding him again.
"Okay," she answered with a nod, belaying her apprehension and chiding herself for not giving him the benefit of the doubt at least.
Dean got that she was scared. For all her courage, he knew she'd been hurt before and surrendering herself to caring for someone again was hard. After Lisa, he felt the same fear. However, Dean felt in his gut that this thing with Buffy had a chance of becoming something good. Dean had never thought he'd ever say these words, but he had faith in the both of them to handle what came next.
Stroking her chin with his thumb, Dean was about to lean in and kiss her when the same noise that Buffy had heard previously became audible to him too. “You hear that?” He asked her, staring down the dark abyss of the never-ending hallway they were trapped within.
“Yeah,” she nodded, her brow knitting as she gripped the sword in her hand even tighter as her eyes followed his gaze, “I guess we’re getting the next act now.”
The next ‘act’ was moving fast now and as it closed in on them, Dean started to realise that the dragging sound they were hearing, wasn’t of something small but something that was extremely large moving across the floor. Dean clutched Buffy’s hand instinctively because it was coming right at them even though it was still out of sight. That did not last long as he started to see the shape of it even if its silhouette made no sense to him yet. One thing was unmistakable; its size almost filled the breadth of their hallway and as it approached, he could hear the snort from its nostrils.
“Can you make out what it is?” Dean demanded, deciding they weren't staying and started to run, with Buffy casting glances over her shoulder, trying to identify it.
It took only a glimmer of light from whatever was radiating it for Buffy to recognise what she was coming after them and when she knew there was only one thing to do.
“RUN!” She barked and broke into a run, taking Dean with her. He did not question the order, running alongside her as the thing closed the gap between them.
“What the hell is it?” He shouted at her again.
There was no need to answer because it was close enough for him to see what they were up against. They were against a fucking locomotive with teeth bared and sharp tusks protruding from the ridges of its massive skull.
“THE MAYOR!” Buffy cried out in response. “It’s the mayor!”
Leaving Scheckly's grisly remains where he'd been killed, Sam and Faith knew they didn't have much time.
The shotgun blasts might have alerted someone concerned enough to call the police and then their access to the house would be lost for days. Sam's instincts told them they didn't have that much time. While Faith took the upstairs, Sam concentrated his efforts on the first floor. She suggested that he look in Scheckly’s study, directing him to the books she had been unable to read, believing he might have better luck.
As he stepped into the room with its musty smell of books and yellowed papers, Sam scanned the room, taking it in and committing all the details to memory. While Dean relied on instinct to navigate most situations, Sam relied on methodical observation. He processed information faster and was able to sift through it with an eye for the fine details. He knew he could string together the obscure to produce something tangible and as Sam swept his gaze across the room, he prayed that skill could be employed to unlock Scheckly's secret location of the cube.
The thing that stuck out first was the videotape. It sat atop a nest of papers which when Sam picked it up, noted were bills and receipts from the various purchases made by the store. The words 'security' was scrawled along the spine and Sam held onto to it, planning to view it later when he had the opportunity because it seemed so out of place in the room. Why would Scheckly bring it home and not leave it at the store? What was on it that he planned to view it in the privacy of his home?
Sam turned away from the roll-top desk and went to examine the books that Faith had pointed out. They were all leather-bound editions of classics. Moby Dick, Vanity Fair, the Count of Monte Cristo. If this was his private collection, then it appeared that Scheckly had a taste for good literature. Sam’s gaze rested on the books Faith had pointed out and noted they were in Latin. He recognised the titles; De Nigromancia, Ars Notaria and Le Dragon Rouge. These were books that had been in Bobby’s collection and he’d become familiar with the volumes over the years.
Believing he had gleaned everything of value from the room, Sam was about to join Faith upstairs when his eyes grazed a particular title on the shelf. The Call of Cthulhu by HP Lovecraft. Sam frowned at the sight of it. He knew the title and recalled that it was a short story, part of the series called the Cthulhu Mythos. It wouldn’t be in a book by itself. Reaching for it, Sam pulled it out by the spine and found that it wasn’t a book at all but rather a box. Flipping open the cover, he saw within the hollow space was the cube.
Scheckly must have stashed it here when he got back, Sam decided.
Remembering what had resulted the last time he’d touched the thing, he made no effort to remove the object from its place in the box. Instead, he closed the lid and tucked it under his arm, just in time to hear the distant whine of police sirens penetrate the night air. They were not far off and were getting closer by the minute. Stepping out of the room, he called out. “Faith!”
She was already coming down the stairs having heard the sirens herself. Her footsteps were hasty as she pounded down the staircase to meet him in the vestibule. “You find anything?” She asked. “Cos we gotta go.”
“I found it,” he nodded, gesturing to the box in his hand. “But we can’t leave the cops to find Scheckly, they’ll freak.”
“I know,” Faith agreed and looked around, an idea forming in her head. “I got it,” she declared and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.
Sam followed to find her bending over the gas stove when he entered. She turned the series of dials against the white enamel and gas hissed out from the open valves. Reaching inside her jacket pocket, she pulled out a set of matches and lit one, leaving it against the kitchen table. As the single match burned, continuing its journey to the others in the pack, Sam watched her do this and wanted to protest. However, the increasingly loud sound of sirens in the background told him they didn’t have a choice. The cops finding Scheckly’s body was not an option and they didn’t have time to remove it and dispose of the remains themselves.
“This used to be our house you know,” Sam said quietly as he saw her creating the makeshift detonator. “My parents lived here, I lived here after I was born and my mom died here.”
“I’m sorry,” Faith replied hurrying to him and taking his arm, ushering him out of the house. “That’s rough but you know as well as I do, this is the only way.”
“I know,” he nodded and let her lead him to the back door where she’d entered the building in the first place. “It seems like this house always draws ugly crap to it no matter who’s living here. I guess this is one way to make that stops forever.”
Dean had never liked coming to Lawrence because of the memories attached to this house and he suspected, his brother would have less difficulty with this than he currently did. Sam’s attachment to the house was because it was here, he had seen his mother for the first time. Even in a ghostly form, she was so beautiful, so kind and she loved him. Despite the fact that he had cost Mary her life, she still loved him.
Shaking off the sadness running through him at that, they both ran out the back door and hurried across the empty back yard just as the fumes of gas finally reached the matches.
The explosion that erupted through the house was immense. Both Sam and Faith were almost to the street when the gas ignited. Columns of flame surge out of the windows, shattering glass and incinerating what curtains and blinds hung there. The walls of the house shuddered, some parts of it gave way entirely, exploding outward in a hail of burning timber and mortar. Debris scattered across the lawn, igniting bushes and plants surrounding the house. The sky came alive with amber radiance as they ran towards the Impala.
Neighbours had started to emerge from their houses by the time Sam and Faith had climbed back into the car. Wasting no time, he turned the ignition and gunned the engine. Wanting to be neither identified by the neighbours nor seen by the police as they fled the scene, Sam sped the Impala down the street and was out of sight before the first neighbours had a chance to process what had happened.
“So what now?” Faith asked now that they had made good their escape. Faith had decided that Sam was the brains of their little rescue operation since he seemed to know what he was doing. Not that she was a novice either but he struck her as a planner. Faith tended to give way to those with a better strategic mind than her since her plans usually involved striking hard and fast, without thought to the consequences.
“We go back to the antique store,” Sam replied. “I’m guessing if there’s anything left for us to figure out how to use this box, it will be there. Besides, the cops will be shifting through the wreckage for a while before they get around to the store. We’ve got a couple of hours.”
“Okay,” Faith nodded. She gazed out the window at the neighbourhood they were passing, taking in the view of dark suburbia as they drove by, admiring the manicured lawns and the houses that all looked indistinguishable from one another. “I’m sorry about the house.” She confessed, throwing him a sidelong glance.
Sam did the same, noting the genuine emotion in her eyes. “Hasn’t really been ours for a long time. My dad moved us out of Lawrence when I was barely a year old,” he explained as they turned another corner, further and further away from the burning house. Behind them, they heard a fire truck scream through an intersection. Sam waited until the low whine died before he continued, “Never really had a home except maybe this car.”
“Home is overrated,” Faith replied automatically, glancing over her shoulder to see more emergency vehicles heading towards Scheckly’s home. “I had a house but it wasn’t much of a home, just a place I couldn’t wait to get away from. It’s the people that matter most, not geography.”
“Yeah, I got that eventually,” he tossed her shy smile, “though it took a while to sink in. I always wanted normal, you know? The job, house, family, that sort of thing.” Whether or not she could see in his eyes just how badly he’d wanted it, Sam couldn’t say so he continued. “The way things played out, it’s never going to happen. The harder I try to make it happen, the worse things get.”
Faith didn’t speak for a moment, feeling sad for him that he’d given up any hope of having that life. The body-swap she’d done with B had been an eye-opener. She’d always thought she wanted what Buffy had until she realised how damn hard that was too. B didn’t have it any easier than her, Faith realised and once she understood that, she was able to come to terms with her own sins and make an attempt at redemption. Of course, the key to that had been Angel. Sam Winchester was so very much like him, it hurt. He wanted the same things as she did and like Angel, he’d resigned himself to never having it.
“Let me guess,” she said meeting his gaze briefly, “It led you down a road that had some pretty bad choices?”
Sam shot her another look, wondering if Buffy had told her about Lucifer and then realising that she’d come to that conclusion on her own because there was more empathy in her eyes at that moment than since he’d met her. Maybe she knew intimately, what he meant. “Yeah, some pretty bad ones.” Trusting Ruby, drinking demon blood, unleashing Lucifer and of course, abandoning his brother to Purgatory.
“Yeah,” she smiled, “done that too. Look man, I don’t what your sitch is but if you don’t mind some advice, let it go. Do the thing you’re good at, try and do it right and I find that the normal you want will come along anyway. It could even be better than the Norman Rockwell you got going on in your head. I wanted what B had, the friends and the family and I screwed so bad I almost didn’t crawl out of it. A friend helped me get back on my feet, help me make right some of my mess and things got better. You gotta accept what you are, whatever that might be and run with it. It’s the trying to be something you’re not that just makes you screw up.”
A lot of what she’d said, Sam had already made peace with but hearing her say it without the sometimes self-righteous tone Dean sometimes used, not to mention the revelation that she’d been in the same place, touched him on a deeper level. “Thanks,” he said genuinely affected. “I think you’re right. I think it’s the need that keeps me making mistakes. I’ve just got to let it go, focus on what I’ve got.”
“Attaboy,” Faith winked at him. “Let’s get B and your bro back and then we can remiss about our screw-ups together over a tequila and angry sex.”
Sam did a double-take and found himself turning a shade red. The girl was coming on strong but then again, Sam tended to like that, though very often he was never sure what to do with it.
“Uh right,” Sam answered, wishing that he had Dean’s way with words right now.
***********
“Move your ass woman before this son of a bitch bites it off!”
“Are you telling me I’m slowing you down!?” Buffy shouted indignantly as she kept in stride with him as they raced down the long corridor, trying to outrun the several tonnes of beast behind them.
“No!” Dean shouted back as he made sure she was still on his flank. “I’m saying you run like a girl!”
Even though she was panting, Buffy‘s jaw dropped open in outrage anyway.
“If we get out of this, I am never sleeping with you again!” Buffy swore at him.
"Ha!" He tossed her a smirk knowing better.
Buffy ran after him, wondering if he knew he didn’t just have one dangerous creature running him after him.
As it was, Buffy was frantically trying to think of some way to escape this situation. There was no place to hide, nothing to do but keep running. She glanced over her shoulder and wished she had not because the demon was still bearing down on them and they had no choice to keep running or die. They’d been maintaining this pace for a good twenty minutes now and the demon, the same kind that Mayor Richard Wilkins III had transmogrified into, had yet to relent or slow its pace.
In Sunnydale, they’d identified the thing as an Olvikan demon and it had taken nothing short of several tonnes of explosives to kill it. Back then, Buffy had only to run through the high school to escape it, now they were trapped in this weird place and even with her Slayer endurance, Buffy didn’t know how long either of them could maintain this pace without one of them faltering.
Dean had fought a lot of creatures before. In Purgatory, he had met all kinds of different monsters, condemned to languish in the same prison since the beginning of the time. Leviathans, shifters, vampires, demons but nothing even came close to this thing for sheer size. Ironically, because of his time in Purgatory, Dean had managed to keep up with Buffy and in some instances even outpace her. After a year of constant running to escape one monster or another, Dean had managed to build up his stamina.
Still, like Buffy, he knew they couldn’t keep this up indefinitely. He’d been egging her on with uncharacteristic insults, hoping her ire would maintain her adrenalin, to keep her from falling into exhaustion. She probably had more stamina than he but Dean was unprepared to let that fucking demon beat her. He’d die before he let that happen. If nothing else, he wanted to give her the chance to escape this place. He rather that then having to watch that ugly son of a bitch kill her in front of him.
Suddenly, Dean spotted something ahead that neither of them had seen until now.
The corridor was turning around a corner. They’d been walking for hours and had believed that the road ahead was straight, that this place which seemed to be some nightmare realm didn’t adhere to the conventions of the real world. Something as simple as turn in the endless corridor was enough to get Dean thinking. The window of opportunity to act was devastatingly narrow and whether or not Buffy had any ideas of how to use what ahead of them, Dean knew they didn’t have time to hash it out.
The idea that kept to him was part desperation and part crazy, Dean didn’t want to debate which was which at the moment, knowing it was their only shot if they wanted to survive the next hour.
“Keep running!” He ordered her as they approached the corner, “Go wide!”
“What?” Buffy demanded when Dean started to veer towards the wall, appearing as if he might run into the corner.
“JUST DO IT!” He barked.
Buffy cursed out loud and did as ordered, turning into the corner in a wide arc that ensured she was in the demons’ line of sight as it maintained its relentless chase. It slowed down a little to navigate the corner as its large bulk kept it from making a sharp turn quickly. The lag gave Buffy time to widen the gap between them. As she continued to run, she tried catching a glimpse of the wall so she could see where Dean had gone. What was he planning?
Since being trapped in this place with him, Buffy had learned to respect his skills not merely as a warrior but as an able strategist. He had the sharpest instincts of anyone she'd ever met and she wondered how much more formidable he would have been if he had come equipped with slayer strength. Not that he needed it because if there was one thing Buffy had come to realise; Dean Winchester could hold his own in any fight.
Dean saw that Buffy had followed his instructions to ensure that the monster was so focussed on her that it had slithered right past him when they had turned the corner. With Buffy in its sights, the demon had not noticed Dean's absence which served him just fine. Thanks to the dim light in this spooky place, he remained concealed in the shadows until it was time for him to make his move. Once the serpent had rounded the corner and enough of it had slid past him, Dean emerged from the darkness. Running along its flank, Dean knew he had only a few seconds before the thing noticed him.
Buffy had come to the conclusion that while the demon might resemble the one she had fought in Sunnydale, it had none of the intelligence of Mayor Richard Wilkins. It was a monster with no trace of the human it had been its source prior to final transmogrification. The mindless beast was only interested in its prey which meant it had none of the Mayor’s emotional baggage. That meant it had none of the weakness she’d been able to exploit to defeat it. Despite seeing anything to suggest otherwise, Buffy worried about Dean. If he had a plan, he should have enacted it by now.
Please don't let it have hurt him, Buffy prayed silently. She could very well be in love with that stubborn, chauvinistic ass and losing him now so soon after finding him was more than Buffy could stand. Please don't let it hurt him the way it had murdered so many others on Graduation Day.
Dean was still running alongside the demon that had yet to notice him. Putting on the speed into his strides, he made a running start and then launched himself at the demon’s flank. With the short dagger, he had retrieved from his ankle holster, Dean drove the blade into the demon’s scaly hide all the way to the hilt. Embedded deep within the dark green scales, the dagger’s hilt provided Dean with a secure hold to haul himself the rest of the way until he was perched on top of the demon's spine.
The initial attack had slowed the demon down long enough to utter an indignant roar of pain before attempting to swat Dean off with its tail while still continuing after Buffy. Dean dropped down to avoid being swept off. When the tail retracted, he got to his feet again and swung the longer blade which, until now, had been secured to his back with his belt. He slashed at the tail, nicking the flesh enough to cause blood to splatter across its scales.
The demon let out another outraged roar except for this time, it stopped chasing Buffy to deal with its unwanted passenger. To dislodge him off its back, it tried to roll over but when Dean drove the long blade into its spine and held on for dear life, the demon rolled back unto its belly unable to tolerate the pain. Dean clambered to this feet just in time to see it rearing its serpentine neck upright, its massive head-turning in his direction with jaws widening and ready to lunge.
When Buffy realised that the demon had stopped chasing her, she stopped running and turned around to see why. Once again, her jaw dropped open at the sight of the small figure on the creature's back. Jogging a little closer so that she could be sure of what she was seeing, Buffy felt the onset of a panic attack to see Dean sitting astride the thing riding a bronco at a rodeo.
The man was certifiable, she thought to herself as she took the chance to sneak up on the demon that was distracted by the rider on its back. It was snapping at Dean who swinging the blade like a sword, slashing at the creature’s face, preventing it from taking him whole.
Once she had closed the distance, Buffy used her own blade and thrust the point into the demon’s body, causing another screech of pain as it turned its neck to see where the second attack had come from. Buffy leapt out of the way, as it snapped at her, barely avoiding its massive jaws as she rolled across the floor to upright herself in time to slice through one of the bony protrusions on its skull. Splinters of bone and blood flew in all directions as she shattered one tusk. The demon reared its head up in agony, letting out another furious wail before lowering it’s to attack again.
Dean couldn’t help but grin as he saw Buffy slugging it out with the 60-foot monster. She looked freaking awesome, he thought as he watched her hack away at it like some cute blond Xena. Determined to help his girl, Dean pulled the long blade out of the demon’s bloody flesh and stabbed it again. It roared in pain once more but had no time to come after him because Buffy was on the offensive again, stabbing it in chest...belly... whatever she could reach. It didn't matter. What did matter was the fact the demon turned back to her, giving Dean the chance to pull out the gun he hadn’t used until now.
Taking aim at its skull, Dean started shooting. The first one struck the demon beneath the eye and black blood oozed immediately from the wound. It howled in pain and struggled to react, twisting its neck left to right, trying to decide which attack to defend itself against. The sound of exploding shells was as much a distraction as the bullets themselves. It rolled from side to side making another attempt to throw Dean off but he was able to avoid being tossed off. Regaining his balance, he resumed firing. Truth be told, he'd prefer something deadlier than the 9mm shells he was packing but a magazine carried 17 rounds and he was making every one count.
Something appeared at the rear of his peripheral vision and Dean ducked in time to avoid being flung off the snake’s back by its tail. It lashed at Dean with a powerful, deadly swipe but the attempts were becoming uncoordinated, reflex in reaction to the pain it was enduring. Dean was able to keep his balance and continued firing into the demon’s open mouth when it came at him again, emptying the entire clip. It pulled back sharply, its tusked head jerking wildly as the bullets tore through its flesh. As its jaws widened to roar, Dean saw the small bullet holes that had shredded the upper palette of the creature’s mouth. It began swaying its head from side to side, obviously in pain and giving Dean the time to retrieve his second and last magazine.
The demon continued to thrash. Trying desperately to dislodge him, the flaying tail slammed against the wall, impacting against the dark surface so hard that Dean swore he heard rock crack. Slapping the magazine into place, Dean resumed firing. It was becoming increasingly harder to shoot straight with the demon struggling more violently in its desperation to throw him off.
The tail came at him again and this time he barely sidestepped it as the head swung in his direction once more, attempting to take a bite out of him again. Dean lost his footing and went down, the gun clattering out of his hand as he slid off to the side. At the last minute, he caught hold of the dagger hilt he’d plunged in its side to climb on top of the creature in the first place. Hanging off the side, Dean struggled to climb back onto its back as Buffy continued to fight.
Until Dean had opened fire, Buffy had been doing her best to keep the thing distracted, using the blade to take swings at the demon's skull when she wasn't stabbing at its elongated torso. The instant the sound of gunshots were heard, the demon forgot all about Buffy deeming her the lesser of two evils and went to deal with the enemy that was shooting at it. The thunderous roar of exploding shells not to mention the damage that Dean was doing told Buffy that he was driving the demon to an act of violent desperation. A creature most dangerous when it was on the defensive.
She saw the demon smashing its body against the wall trying to knock Dean off its back, while its tail swung at the hunter like a giant whip. The force of its bulk slamming against the seemingly impenetrable wall had actually caused damage with large chunks of rock breaking free and crumbling to the floor. The serpentine body impacted against the wall once more, bringing down a section of it in a dusty heap. When Buffy saw Dean go over, she ran after demon, trying to see where he had fallen.
“Dean!” She cried out and felt her heard freeze when he didn't answer. The demon's elongated neck was arched over the bloody mess of its back, its nostrils sniffing at something she was sure was Dean. Running forward, she jumped into the air, holding the blade above her head as she aimed its sharp point at the tallest part of its neck. The blade sank into its flesh just beneath the skull and was driven in deep by her weight. The blade slide into the half-way point when that same weight began to pull Buffy towards the ground.
Gripping the blade tight in her hand, Buffy felt blood spray over her amidst the demon's shrill and agonized scream as she tore open its neck like she was pulling down a zipper. By the time, her feet had touched the ground, the creature had gone limp and with one final spasm, smashed against the broken section of the wall, its body draped over the jagged fragments as it died. Letting go of the blade finally, she dropped onto her feet and then on her ass, covered from head to toe in rank blood.
A few seconds later, she heard Dean’s voice.
“Counsellor!” He emerged from behind the dead carcass, hurrying towards her. Skidding to the ground, he was unhurt and more worried about her as he knelt down beside Buffy. “Are you okay? That was freaking awesome sweetheart!” Dean exclaimed, having witnessed how she killed the thing and was half-crazed with relief, euphoria and just a little arousal.
"Am I okay?" She burst out, gesturing to herself. "Look at me!" She swatted his hand away when he reached for her. Slipping on the slick floor, he fell backwards on his butt, staring at her with bewilderment.
"THAT WAS YOUR PLAN?" She glared at him. "To jump on that thing like some rodeo clown! Are you freaking kidding me! You could have gotten killed, eaten. I’ve seen that thing swallow a whole principal…in ONE GULP!” She knew she was ranting but Buffy didn’t care. It infuriated her how frightened she had been for him and he was so damn casual about it all.
Recognising her tirade for what it was, Dean sat up and leaned forward, wiping the blood from her cheek, trying not to smile. “Rodeo clown?” He quipped. "Darlin' that was pure Clint Eastwood. Besides, it worked didn't it?" He gave her a little wink.
“Oh my God!” Buffy threw her hands up in exasperation. “You’re insane. You are absolutely certifiable. I can’t believe this,” she shook her head in disbelief and shouted to the gods as if they gave a rat’s ass about anything she had to say, "I am in love with a certifiable lunatic!”
Dean stopped short and stared at her, a slow smile stealing across his face as he slid an arm around her shoulder. "You love me?"
"Oh shut up," she grumbled and shoved him away again.
Breaking into the Antiquities Store the second time was far easier than the first as it was territory already marked. In truth, Sam had no idea how long they really had before the cops came to the store so whatever they had to do here, they had to do quickly. They hadn't found anything in the initial search but with the cube in their possession, they might have better luck on a second try. At least, they didn't have to worry about Scheckly interrupting them anymore.
"You think that there's something on the tape huh?" Faith asked, impressed that he'd grabbed the thing because she honestly hadn't thought about it. She'd seen it earlier and wondered who used tapes anymore? Then again, she was accustomed to being the brawn in most operations and was content to leave strategy to Giles and the Watchers. Faith was capable of thinking fast when she had to but she preferred to leave the long con to those who were better at it than her.
"He brought it home for a reason," Sam pointed out as he swept his gaze across the inside of the back office searching for where Scheckly would play the thing, "He must want to hide it because I didn't see a video player in there, did you?"
Faith had to say no.
"Besides," Sam said with a little smile, "know anyone else with a video player?"
"True," Faith agreed and started studying some of the frames Scheckly had hung on his walls. She saw a business license, a local merchant award and other were pictures of Scheckly's life while he played human. There were pictures with friends, with the people he'd worked and the opening of the Antiquities store. There was even a picture of the house that she and Sam had just laid waste to. He should have just told us how to get B and big bro back and he could have keep living, Faith thought when her eyes caught sight of something that had her calling for Sam.
"Sammy!"
There was something urgent in her tone that made him stop loading the tape into the video player he'd found and cross the floor immediately to her side. She was staring intently at a news clipping that Scheckly had framed on the wall. It was an old article about a freak storm that had originated somewhere in California about twelve years ago. Aside from being uncharacteristically violent, it had produced all manner of unexplained seismic and atmospheric anomalies for the season and climate. Sam supposed it resembled some of the phenomena that had taken place when Lucifer walked the Earth and the Apocalypse was still happening but this had happened years before that.
"What is it?" He asked puzzled, wondering what it was she was seeing that he didn't.
"This is dated 22nd May 2001," Faith declared, staring at him and then realising the date would not have any significance to anyone unless they were a slayer.
"I'm not following you," Sam looked at her puzzled.
"This is the day when B died." Faith declared. "She was fighting this Big Bad called Glory, some hell bitch from another dimension. Glory's deal was that she was trying to get back to her hell dimension and to do that she had to bring down the walls to all the dimensions."
"Okay...." Sam said slowly, still needing more information to comprehend the urgency of what she was trying to tell him. The talk of dimensional walls did open up some rather interesting possibilities. Max Planck in 1900 had theorized that beyond quantum mechanics that were forces at work in the universe that humankind had yet to discover and Hugh Everett's Many Worlds theory was gaining traction. It didn't surprise Sam that the supernatural world would have more defining proof.
"There was a moment when Glory actually did it," Faith explained, growing impatient because explanations were out of her comfort zone. "The walls came down and stuff started coming through. Buffy was able to close it because the guys that made the Key that opened it, used her DNA. What if they got it mostly right but not quite?"
Sam had a dozen more questions but for the moment he was managing to follow. If the ritual to close it hadn't been exactly right, there was a possibility the closure hadn't been as airtight as they thought and there were cracks, just large enough to let two or more universes to merge since different versions couldn’t exist in the same space without causing entropy. Suddenly in a flash of insight that didn't just open a door in his mind but flooded it, Sam understood.
"I think I know what's happened," Sam stared at her, taking a step back. "That's why we haven't heard about Slayers and why you don't know what Hunters are or know about the Apocalypse. It’s why none of the stuff you've been through appeared on our radar and vice versa. You said this Glory tried to bring down the walls and maybe Buffy's blood didn't quite close it as tight as you thought. So what if maybe one or two of the dimensions merged? Got folded into one new universe where no one knew there was a change. Scheckly might have come through from this Razor Realm of his and got stuck here or maybe he was from your world or ours, whatever."
Faith leaned against a shelf and nodded, "that would explain why the Watchers had no intel on what was happening in Stull Cemetery three years ago. It came at them from nowhere and by the time they figured it out it was too late. I mean your demons are freaky powerful and from hell. The actual hell while ours come from hell dimensions that don't always have the fire and the brimstone. I know one who does a lounge act in Vegas and might be gay."
For some reason, Sam actually wanted to see that.
The enormity of their discovery was such that Sam still had trouble believing it and yet he knew in his gut that it was the reason why things were the way they were. There was no other reasonable explanation for why there would need to be hunters in the world if there were slayers protecting humans from demons and vampires. Why the Men of Letters and the Watcher Council would utterly ignorant of each other.
"We'll figure the rest of this out later," Sam finally spoke. "First things first, let's get Buffy and Dean back here." He went back to the video player that sat in the corner of the room next to the desk.
Pressing play, the monochromatic image appeared and thankfully had sound. Faith drifted over, standing next to him as they watched the tape beginning to play. Sam searched the cabinet where it was kept and found the remote control, so he could hit the fast forward button when needed. The screen showed typical footage from a store security camera. Capturing a segment of time around the space Sam immediately recognised as the juncture where the cube had been, it showed all the foot traffic through the day. The image was too fuzzy for him to see the object but he was sure the place was right.
"That's where it was," Sam explained and pressed the fast forward button on the remote, immediately causing the images to speed up. He kept his finger on the button for a good ten minutes as they watched the patrons moving in and out of the frame. Few paused long enough to observe the cube on its shelf, most were walking to other parts of the store.
"There!" Faith exclaimed when Buffy and Dean finally came into view.
Faith leaned forward, taking her first look at Dean Winchester before tossing a look at Sam. "That's your big brother?" She raised a brow. "You don't look alike."
"You're not the first to say that," he agreed, having had enough people thinking that he and Dean were a gay couple. What was up with that? Sam put up the volume to heard them talking. The audio wasn't terrific but it was clear enough to hear the duo talking.
"Let’s hope this works better than condoms…you know like 99 per cent effective?”
“God Winchester! Gross.”
“How can you gank vamps and monsters the way you do and still sound you should be collecting unicorn stickers and princess dolls?”
"You are such a boy."
"I'm all man baby......Now get your phone out and send a picture of this to Sam. That will give him something more to go on. Then I say we get this thing out of here and go lock it down at your place. Just in case the gloves don’t work, the last thing I want is for my worst fear to show up when I’m not near Sam.”
Faith was laughing watching the banter between the two. It appeared that Dean Winchester was more than capable of ruffling Queen B's feathers which was what the blond slayer needed sometimes. Buffy's relationship with Angel had been so tragic and forbidden there wasn't much fun in it. It was probably why Buffy gravitated towards Spike later, at least Spike gave as good as he got.
"I'm telling you I'm keeping this tape when we're done. Gotta put this on Facebook for Willow and Xander," Faith smirked.
"It’s not funny," Sam threw her a look of disapproval although it was rare to see Dean trying so hard to impress any girl which told him the depth of his brother's feelings for Buffy. However he did not miss what Dean had said about his brother's fears involving him and that too was no mystery to Sam because he knew his brother, knew what frightened him.
They got to the part in the tape where Scheckly had confronted them and the door to the Razor Realm had opened. Scheckly had recited his words, sweeping Buffy and Dean out of this world and into another. When they vanished in a burst of light, Sam saw that the portal remained open for a second after they disappeared before Scheckly recited a final phrase and then the portal closed.
"Damn," Faith whispered, no longer finding any humour in the situation.
"Yeah," Sam agreed thinking silently about what was to be done.
"We need to open the portal and find them," Faith declared.
"It’s not that simple," Sam replied, although it really was he'd foresaw other problems. "We don't know what this Razor Realm is like and it’s been hours since they've been gone. This is another dimension, we need to get in there and find them. I think that the last phrase is how he closes it but that would mean we'll need to go through with the cube, find Buffy and Dean and then use it to come back again."
"What we need is a locator spell once we go through," Faith declared, "and I know just how to get one."
***********
Convinced it was safe to do so, Dean approached the dead snake demon lying across the section of the massive wall that it had smashed into during its final battle. The deep green colour of its scales had started to turn grey and mottled while its blood created a slick, black pool that spread out from the multiple wounds in its body. Dean winched at the stench of rancid blood that was near stomach-turning and he shot Buffy a look of sympathy who was covered in the stuff as she walked next to him, using the last of her wet wipes to get clean."How you doing?" He asked her gently. Slayer or not, she was still very much a girl and even though she could kick his ass from here to kingdom come, Dean still protective towards her because she was somewhere he cared about.
"Fine," Buffy replied as she fished through the contents of her handbag to produce a can of deodorant which she sprayed on herself to mask the awful stink of demon blood still clinging to her.
"Are you actually fine or is that chick speak for 'I'm pissed at you but won't tell you why'?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.
Buffy gave him a look and replied haughtily, "I'm not mad at you. I'm worried about this place. What if this is the whole Razor Realm?" Buffy swept her gaze across the expanse of endless corridors and her expression softened with worry.
Dean had considered the possibility, actually more than considering it. He was starting to share her concerns about their situation although he was trying to sound more optimistic about it. In Purgatory, even if it was ass, it was still survivable. The savage landscape had been capable of sustaining life. There was running water, wood to burn, fish in the rivers and plant life. It was a rough, brutal existence but it was something. There was nothing like that here. True, they hadn't gotten hungry or felt thirsty which they ought to have been by now but that didn't mean anything.
Were their bodily requirements placed on hold while they fought every monster in the place? How long could they keep it up? Worse yet, it was likely that he'd go first. She was the Slayer, she was built for this and she'd survived even if he didn't. Dean wasn't afraid of dying but the idea of Buffy wandering this place alone if he was taken out was more than he could stand.
"Come on," he took of her hand as he moved past the dead demon and neared the wall the creature had ruined. Large chunks of obsidian coloured marble had crumbled into pile tall enough to reach the top of the wall. Dean started climbing up the mound of broken rock, letting go of Buffy because he needed both hands to reach the top. Carefully testing his weight the higher he got, he paused whenever something felt it was going to give or some of the debris shifted and tumbled to the ground like the flow of an avalanche.
When Buffy realised what he intended, she held back for the moment. When he was almost to the top, she followed him up, ensuring that their weight was distributed evenly enough to prevent the pile from collapsing entirely. As she scaled up the side of it to reach the top of the wall, she felt the debris pile shuddered slightly but remained intact as she climbed the rest of the way.
When Buffy stepped onto the wall, she stopped short at the sight of Dean standing on the wall, his back to her. He was simply standing there, saying nothing, his spine ramrod straight.
The height of the wall gave Dean a sweeping view of everything for miles until the landscape disappeared into the dark horizon and there was nothing left to see. It was a view he wished he had not seen because when he heard Buffy climbing up behind him, he had no idea what to say to her. When he turned around, he saw no need to make excuses or lie, her face told him she already knew that something was wrong.
"What is it?" She asked, her voice soft as if she didn't want to know but Dean knew better.
Dean wanted to lie to her, he wanted to tell her that everything was okay but he couldn't. Lies were treacherous things and some truths, such as the one that confronted them now, was too big to hide. Dean didn't have the energy to try and truth be told, the ability to be honest with her was one of the things he treasured about being with her. With Buffy, there was no need to bullshit. She wanted the facts laid bare and most of the time she could take it. He admired that.
With a sigh, he stepped aside, so that she could see, his eyes full of regret because he felt responsible for this like he should have gotten them out of this already and because he had no answers for her.
"Oh my god...." Buffy gasped.
Walls. As far as the eye could see. They twisted and turned into a maze that seemed to encompass this stygian world. It stretched across the landscape in every direction, wall to wall, with no sign of an end. It was endless. The totality of it took her breath away, made her heart pound in her chest, threaten to fissure her slowly degrading composure. She fixed her eyes on it, trying to find an escape in its far reaches but saw nothing but more of the same, more of that soul-crushing continuity. This prison they were in was endless, like a Gordian knot that just pulled them tighter and tighter, no matter how much they tried to escape.
"We'll be okay," she felt his hands on her shoulders, trying to assuage her fears with his tender voice even though she could hear him trying to shake off his own uncertainty. "I know my brother, Sam will get us out of here. He won't stop looking for us." Inwardly, he wasn't so sure about that but he couldn't show her that. A snide voice in his head reminded Dean that Sam had abandoned him to Purgatory for a year.
No, Dean thought silently to himself, Sammy wouldn't do it to me twice. If he couldn't have faith in Sam for that much, then their relationship was damaged beyond repair.
"I know where we are," she said quietly as she turned around to face him, "seeing it from up here, I recognise it. We're in the cube. The walls run the same way the puzzle inside the cube. We're trapped inside it."
Dean looked past her shoulder to the labyrinth of walls surrounding them and tried to see the patterns she had, to reach the same conclusion. It took several seconds buts eventually, he saw that she was right. It was the only explanation for the freakiness of the place. It explained why every monster imaginable was trapped in here with them.
"I think I get it now," Dean said to her, "The son of a bitch who sent us here, he said that the Douche of the Razor Realm collects souls or something. What if, every time someone touches this thing, whatever monster or fear that terrifies them gets stashed in here? Maybe what Scheckly did was to stash us the way the cube stashes its monsters?"
"Right," Buffy nodded, agreeing with that. "So if Sam can figure out how to unlock it, we can get out of here."
"I think so," Dean replied, ready to latch onto that small piece of hope to get them through the next few hours. He could see her anxiety and was reminded once again that she was used to opponents she could see and fight, that relying on someone else to save her was new. Dean smiled at the irony of it because these could have been thoughts in his own head. He knew that if he were here with Sammy, he’d probably react the same as her. However, it wasn’t his brother here; it was Buffy and even if it was some old fashioned chivalry at work, Dean was driven by the need to protect her at all costs.
“We’re gonna get out of this,” he promised her, brushing his thumb gently over her lip. “Sam will come through for us. I know it.”
Buffy didn’t know if Sam was capable of getting them out of this mess but just looking into Dean’s eyes told her that even if she wasn’t sure about Sam, she could be assured of Dean’s unshakeable faith in his brother. He believed Sam would get them out of this insane place and Buffy forced herself to believe it too.
After all, what other alternative was there?
***********
After deciding what was to be done to retrieve Buffy and Dean, Faith and Sam left the Antiquities Store and returned to Buffy’s house where Faith put in a call to Willow Rosenberg. Willow and Buffy had been friends since their Sunnydale days and over the course of their friendship, Willow had developed into an extremely powerful Wiccan who often aided the slayer in her fight against evil. It was a further affirmation for Sam that the two worlds occupied by slayers and hunters had somehow merged. In all his experience, Sam had never encountered a witch who used her powers for good as Willow had done.
“Thanks, Will,” Sam heard Faith say into her cell when he brought more weapons from the Impala into Buffy’s house. Faith had called Willow in Maine, asking the witch how to conjure up the spell that would help them find Buffy and Dean once they’d passed through the portal. Knowing Buffy and Dean as they did, Faith and Sam believed the two would have started searching for an escape route as soon as they’d become trapped in the Razor Realm, wherever that might lead them.
“Yeah, I’ve got it in my phone,” Faith continued to speak. “The guy I’m with is into the rituals and spell thing so he should be able to figure it out…that’s right, he’s one of these hunters Buffy told the G-Man about.” She paused a second and threw Sam, who was putting down shotguns and ammunition on the coffee table, a furtive look followed by a slow smile. “Yeah, he is pretty cute… just like his big brother.” Faith laughed as she heard Willow’s response. “Definitely a bad boy hottie and Buffy’s type.”
Sam almost blushed when he saw Faith winking at him with that coquettish smile before he turned away, concentrating on loading the shotguns, trying not to listen to the conversation she was having with Willow. With all the things they’d been through together in the last few hours, it was easy to forget that Faith wasn’t just another hunter. She was a slayer who was born to this life and revelled in the power at her disposal to rid the world of monsters, which she did with remarkable efficiency and ruthlessness and yet could flirt like any girl. Sam was unable to deny that he was very attracted to her as she was very much his ‘type’.
However, he didn’t know how to take her forward passes, especially when she revealed that it was normal for her to experience heightened levels of arousal after killing monsters. Sam, of course, was interested. Faith was seductive and assertive, two qualities he found hard to resist in the opposite sex. However, beyond the immediate urgency of retrieving Buffy and Dean, Sam was painfully aware of the effect the trials were having on him and was hesitant to start something with Faith when it was possible that he might not recover after they were done.
“Yeah I don’t think they’re wine and cheese type Willow,” Faith remarked meeting Sam’s gaze and gesturing with her hands that she was almost done. “Gotta run Willow, I’ll get B to give you a call if this all goes well.” With that, Faith ended the call, slipping the phone back into her coat.
“Wine and cheese?” Sam asked with a curious expression.
“Yeah,” Faith shrugged. “Willow wanted to know if we can get together after all of this is done for wine and cheese. The girl’s in serious couples dating mode. She needs to stop hanging around all those Wiccans.”
Sam gave her a look and decided it was best not to comment, focussing instead on the reason for the call. "Uh, what did she say about the spell?” Sam asked, trying to shake the thought of Dean Winchester on a double date with a gay witch and her partner because it was making his brain discombobulate.
“Well, she texted it to me,” Faith answered, patting the phone in her pocket and approaching the weapons to examine them closer. These Winchesters loved their guns, Faith decided as she admired the shotguns on the coffee table. Then again, a shotgun had blown Scheckly to pieces before he could rip her to shreds so she wasn’t about to question their effectiveness. Besides, she could understand why the hunters would need guns since they were all ordinary humans with no powers of any kind. If the guns gave them the edge to stay alive, then Faith had no complaints.
“She says the minute we go through, I should perform the spell on the other side so that we can use the radiant energies from the dissipating portal to fuel it and get us to B and your bro.”
It did make some kind of sense to Sam though he didn’t understand all aspects of it. However, Faith had vouched for Willow’s effectiveness so he wasn’t about to debate the matter. If anything, he was eager to begin. “Let’s do this now then,” Sam urged, picking up one of the shotguns and handing it to her while stuffing the pockets of his jacket with as much ammunition as he could carry.
“You sure we’re going to need all this?” Faith asked, holding the gun in her hand with a look of distaste. Like B, she was used to fighting with less dangerous weapons and was uncomfortable holding the shotgun.
"Yeah I'm sure," he checked the gun tucked in the back of his jeans and made sure he had the shells for inside his coat pocket. There was no doubt in his mind that they needed all this ordinance. Scheckly had painted a suitably ugly picture of horror when describing the Razor Realm and Sam wasn't stepping into that world without being prepared to face it. "Scheckly said that the Razor Realm collects people's nightmares, that even brief contact with the cube could bring them out. The Razor Realm is where they're all kept so I'm guessing we're going to see some real nasty and personal stuff when we go in."
Faith shuddered inwardly, thinking that she had no desire to see the Mayor again, even there was a part of him that loved the man still. Even if he was a Big Bad, Faith believed he cared for her. Buffy had revealed she used his love of Faith to put him down so that much of it was confirmed. Still, he was a remnant of a past Faith wanted to forget and prayed that he wasn't conjured up in the Razor Realm.
"Let's just do this." She grumbled.
Sam saw the brief shadow that invaded her normally relaxed features and suspected that something he had said about personal demons had struck a chord with her. Faith didn't trust people easily, he got that. Despite her flirting, he guessed she was like Dean in that way, the flippancy and cockiness was a facade for the hurts concealed beneath the surface. It was hard for her to open up and Sam had no desire to intrude on her boundaries even if she appeared afraid right now.
"Hey," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I have your back where we're going. I promise."
Faith's eyes touched Sam's and once again, she saw that decency radiating from his eyes. There was no expectation in his eyes except the desire to help and knowing that filled with emotion, no ulterior motive like getting laid. It was so much like Angel used to look at her that it hurt. "You're a good guy Sammy," she punched his shoulder lightly.
"I try," Sam replied and did not add that sometimes, he failed. "You okay?" He asked gently.
"Yeah," she nodded, "just having a flashback to not so good times."
"I can relate," Sam confessed. "Okay, let's get started." He said aware that she probably didn't do moments and the best thing to do was to get on with it.
"Right," Faith nodded and shifted her gaze to the faux book/box sitting on the coffee table.
Sam reached for the box and took a few steps back so that he was standing in the centre of the room. Faith joined him, standing beside Sam as he flipped open the lid and reached for the gleaming object inside.
"I'm not sure how this works so hang on to me," Sam advised as he held it in his hand. He knew that he wouldn't start seeing things immediately. It had taken a while for Lucifer to show up so he assumed the thing needed time to manifest a person's darkest fears. Sam hoped that they'd rescue Buffy and Dean before that happened. In any case, he sure as hell wasn't letting Faith handle the object if it could be avoided.
Faith wrapped her arm around his and leaned in close, "okay my knight in shining armour, whisk me to wherever," she joked.
Sam chuckled softly but then remembered what they had to do and stared at the gleaming cube. As he stared at it, he thought he might have seen the exotic designs on its surface, swirling into new patterns. Had it done that before? Sam was certain it didn't but supposed it meant nothing in the scheme of things, not when they were about to plunge into its secrets.
Using the words he'd memorized from Scheckly's security tape, Sam began reciting; “Karahnia Stahs ohla varayna discara unas celea mokturna.”
Suddenly, although not to Sam's surprise because he'd seen what happened on the tape, the cube began to radiate bright white light from the swirling designs across its surface. However, instead of letting it go as Dean had done, Sam tightened his grip. The radiating light did not generate heat because it was still cool to the touch in Sam's palm. Sam didn't look away, forcing him to keep his eyes focussed on the thing as it performed its magic.
The floor beneath them started to shudder and Faith clutched Sam's arm tighter to steady herself. Picture frames shook against the floor, a vase tipped over spilling stinking water and almost dead flowers onto the carpet. Faith was about to demand if this was what was supposed to happen when the confidence in Sam's face, belayed the question and she settled her own anxiousness because he was clearly expecting all this.
The cube opened in his palm and the grotesque figure at its centre began to dance as it had for Buffy and him a day ago. Except for this time, there was music to accompany the performance. Everything was happening as it had taken place in the video and Sam had a rough idea of what came next when he saw the figure start to twirl, the spins growing faster and faster.
"Hold on tight!" Sam warned as the strobe light pouring out of the cube expanded to envelop them both.
Faith obeyed and closed her eyes just as the blinding white light reached them. It overloaded her retinas and she had to shut her eyes as the shuddering beneath her feet reached a crescendo and then suddenly, the light faded into an abyss of black and she knew no more.
They couldn't stay watching the horizon for long, not when faced with the reality that fear lived here and it would find them eventually. They were its meat; the soft flesh to be gnawed between its teeth to keep them sharp. Dean imagined that he and Buffy were little more than unexpected gristle but like everything that was to be devoured, they too would eventually break down. He hoped to hell that Sammy was doing everything he could to get them out of here because he didn't know how much longer they could stay ahead of the monsters in this place.
Descending from the wall, neither spoke but the air was heavy with sinister foreboding. Maybe it was understanding what this place was that made it worse, made it seem so much more hopeless. Whatever the reason; they were both on their guard as they walked down the corridor that had no end, trying to hide their despair from each other. Dean was clinging steadfastly to the belief that Sam would get them out of here because Buffy needed to believe it. He could see in her eyes, the fear that in the end, this place would defeat them. It was built to win and even if you could stay alive for a long time, it wasn't the kind of living you wanted. If Sam couldn't get them out, then perhaps dying wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them.
"I've been thinking," Dean spoke, breaking the silence because it was starting to drive him a little crazy especially when they were waiting for the next horrible thing to jump out at them, “Maybe we can do the long-distance thing."
Of all the things she had expected him to say; this was not it.
Buffy shot him a look of surprise, her eyes widening slightly because this was not the place she expected to have this conversation and more astonishingly, he was not the one she figured would initiate it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean said defensively catching the look she was giving him, “I mean we might as well talk about it right?”
Suppressing the urge to smile, Buffy swore she could see him turning red. However, their situation made her question his motives and she asked suspiciously, “You're not doing this because you think we're going to die in here and you won't have to make good on any promises made right?"
"No!" Dean declared automatically and then paused to consider if that was exactly what was going on in his head when he rebounded, "No goddamn it!" He exclaimed with a hint of indignation because for once, he only had the purest intentions in mind. What did she take him for? Okay maybe he might have done that in the past one or twice, taken the easy route to speed out of situations or a bedroom for that matter but this was different.
"Okay! Okay!" she declared, throwing her hand up in apology for questioning his motives. "So you want to do the long-distance thing?"
Dean shrugged and started talking again, not meeting her gaze as they continued walking. "Well me and Sam are mostly based in Lebanon these days," he explained, trying to sound casual about this even though there were big neon letters flashing 'BIG RELATIONSHIP TALK' in his head. This wasn’t something he was at all comfortable doing and on the one occasion he had the experience, it was Lisa who had made the overture even if it had proved ultimately untenable. "It’s about three hours from Lawrence. I mean I can do those miles in my sleep or we could meet halfway, or I could come and hang out between jobs..." he suggested before clearing his throat, trying not to sound like some sensitive new age pussy who couldn't make a decision on anything important.
Buffy was smiling, despite the mess they were in, despite the possibility they may never get out of this place, she was smiling at him. Watching Dean stumbling over his words, trying to maintain his veneer of cool while talking about their relationship beyond the present moment was almost precious. "Or I could drive up," she offered instead. "Maybe even join you on a job sometime. Not all the time of course but once in a while." She looked at him coyly from under long lashes. "You gotta admit, you could use me in a tight spot."
“Darlin, you got lots of tight spots I can use,” he grinned, unable to keep himself from taking the easy route to innuendo she’d given him.
For his trouble, she swatted him over his arm. “Dork!” She cursed and then fell suddenly silent. Her spine straightened and she was reaching for the blade across her back.
Dean had only to look at the expression, hardening like granite to guess that the next wave of monsters was about to come their way.
“What is it?” He asked her, reaching over his shoulder like she had. The gun he was carrying was out of bullets after killing the giant snake and was now useless to them.
“Listen,” she ordered, her eyes narrowing in concentration.
Dean obeyed, opening his ears to the sound of everything. It took him a second to detect what she had.
The sound was still soft because it was distant but what he could make of it was sharp. Like someone was stabbing at the marble floor with the point of a knife, multiplied a dozen times over. Whatever was coming at them was not alone. The approach he could hear bearing down on them told him that much. Suddenly, Dean was filled with a heightened sense of alarm, even more so than when the demon snake had first come at them. His fight or flight instincts were tugging at the edge of his consciousness, trying to goad him into making the sensible decision for once.
“Come on!” He motioned her to follow, the ghost of a plan forming in his brain, “we need to take this to higher ground.”
“Higher ground?” She exclaimed before she caught onto what he intended. Dean was retreating the way they had come and she followed him, breaking into a run to keep up, she knew where he was going. The only high ground available to them was the section of wall ruined by the Olvikan demon. The debris from that collapsed section allowed them to get to the top and gave them the view of the landscape. Right now, however, it would give them a slight advantage over multiple attackers.
***********
“Sam,” Faith nudged the younger Winchester brother who was lying face down against the dark, marble floor. “Come on Winchester, on your feet. Got to go rescue big brother and Queen B.”
Faith had come to first and was able to shake off the disorientation from their journey through the portal much faster than Sam. The bright light had overloaded all her sensory receptors, causing her to blackout long enough for them to be transported to this place. When she regained consciousness, she found Sam and had to admit that having never been teleported before, Willow’s description of the experience of being snatched up by a hurricane, tracking with what they’d just gone through.
She could feel the lingering charge of the energy from the portal still crackling through the air. It reminded her of a blown fuse or the fumes exuding from an electrical fire. They didn’t have much time to use its power to perform the locator spell and the realisation prompted Faith into action. However, first things first, she needed to get Sam Winchester on his feet. He had landed face down but unlike her, had not gotten up again and she felt a surge of panic at the thought that he might have gotten himself hurt on the way through.
“Sammy!” She knelt down and shook him. She saw that the cube was still clenched tightly in his fist, along with all the other crap he’d brought with him. Men and their guns, she mused.
It took a couple of shakes before Sam jerked back to consciousness with a sudden start. Lifting his head which felt a lot heavier than it should, he turned his head left, right and then raised his eyes to look at Faith, unaware that was a smear of blood running down his nose. “I’m up…I’m up,” he replied slowly lumbering to his feet.
Not for the first time, Faith noticed the state of him. She hadn’t missed the fact that for a guy his height and size, he’d looked frail. The circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks indicated that he was less than a hundred per cent but until she saw the blood, Faith had not realised just how bad he was. He’d saved her life when they were fighting Scheckly, Faith thought, he’d done it while he was in this shape? Knowing that made her angry that she hadn’t been the one protecting him. She was the Slayer after all and he was the normal human.
Still, after working with him, Faith had to admit there was little about Sam that was ordinary.
“We gotta do this spell before the juice disappears,” she reminded him, her voice somewhat sedate as she tried to hide her concern and maintain her flippant persona. “You up for it or do you need me to?”
“I can do it,” Sam assured her, shaking off the last of the fugue caused by the teleportation. Reaching for the phone that Faith handed to him, he reread the instructions in Willow Rosenberg’s text message.
“You good to go?” She asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m not sure about the language but your Willow translated the words phonetically so I should be able to say the chant. According to this, we needed fragments from the crushed rock of Baba Yaga’s pestle. An old friend of ours used to collect all kind of mystic stuff so I actually found this in the trunk of the car. It’s not a tough spell to do.” He explained before producing a small baggie from inside his coat. The plastic bag contained a fine, grey powder. “Just make sure you hold my hand,” he said, “don’t want to leave you behind.” He added with an almost embarrassed smile.
Faith shook her head, trying not to laugh as she wrapped an arm around his waist. “Okay Sammy, take me on this hayride.”
Sam gave her another shy glance before he emptied the contents of the plastic bag into his palm, careful not to spill any before taking a deep breath. Exhaling it as hard as he could, he blew the powder from his palm, dispersing it into the air in a thick cloud that rapidly began to thin, before he started reciting the spell.
“Shuunati Fuug Ghallgah der Shtuul, Shuunati Fuug Ghallgah der Shtuul. Shuunati Fuug Ghallgah der Shtuul.”
Sam chanted the phrase over and over again but started to see results almost immediately after he’d completed the second attempt. The residual energy of their teleportation into this place began to react to the mystical powder Sam had introduced into the air. He could see the tiny embers coming alive, like fireflies swarming in the dark. It was almost beautiful as they drifted aimlessly at first. However, as he continued to chant, the momentum of the glittering mist became more pronounced and directed, swirling in place in front of them.
“I think it’s working,” Faith declared, her dark eyes wide with wonder, “Now we need something of your brother’s right?”
Faith supposed she could have lifted something from Buffy’s place before they set the spell into motion but Sam claimed he had it covered. He didn’t answer her but dug his hand into the pocket of his coat to pull out something that was dangling from his hand. It was a small gold pendant hanging off a piece of chord.
“What is that?” Faith asked curiously. The pendant was a little strange looking thing, a brass face with horns pointing upwards.
“It’s Dean’s,” Sam said quietly, not wanting to explain how he’d retrieved it from the bin when Dean tossed it out three years ago because he’d been hurt that Dean had discarded it. Of course, Dean had done that because he himself had been hurt by the discovery during their trip to heaven, Sam’s most pleasant memories involved time away from his family. Shame at the unintentional slight had kept Sam from telling Dean that he still had the amulet and maybe, maybe when he finished these trials and proved to his brother that he could be counted on, Sam might try giving it back to Dean.
For now, he needed it for the final part of the spell.
The embers had now swirled into a large vortex that Sam and Faith found themselves staring into. It faced them like the open maw of energy conduit. Sam glanced at Faith and flung the amulet into the opening. It disappeared into the shifting whorls of mystic power with a spike of blue energy. Once it vanished, Sam saw a growing dark centre that expanded wide enough for them to enter. The bigger it got, the more recognisable it became. Sam caught sight of another corridor, much like this one waiting for them to cross into it.
“This is it!” Sam exclaimed and ran forward, Faith’s arm around his as he jumped into its open mouth.
***********
Taking the high ground was a temporary measure at best.
There were so many of them that Dean couldn’t count them all and from what Buffy told him, even one could kill them both easily. They were swarming at the base of the wall and judging by the way they moved, Dean suspected that they weren’t going to have any trouble climbing up marble to reach their prey. Buffy called these things demons but to Dean, they were monsters, pure and simple. When this was over, assuming they survived the next ten minutes, he’d have to pick her brain on how many different types of supposed demons she’d fought as the slayer.
“I don’t know about you,” Buffy remarked assuming a defensive position, the long blade held tightly in her hands as she watched the creatures approaching the dead Olvikan demon that lay across the partially crumbled wall. “But I’m thinking our safest bet is to keep them from getting to the top of the wall.”
“I’m with you on that,” Dean agreed, “gonna be a bitch with just these weapons though.”
“You’re just missing your guns,” she retorted as she saw the first of them climb up the wall, followed by another and then another. “Here they come,” she said not looking at him.
“You want a pep talk or are we good to go?” He joked, trying to make light of a situation that had none at all. He watched them scurry over the dead snake demon, a tide of dark green bodies with too many legs, covering its large bulk.
“We’re good,” Buffy answered tonelessly and didn’t comment that they were both remarkably calm considering what they were facing. “Remember, they got a second set of jaws on their bellies.”
“Nice,” Dean retorted, “what are they called again?”
Buffy didn’t meet his gaze as she answered, “Grimslaw demons.”
They were sharing a sense of calm that was in itself morbid when they should have been alarmed. Buffy saw the same thing he did, a swarm of grimslaw demons all hungry for their hearts and more than ready to tear it right out of their chests. Buffy knew Dean would die fighting. It was no more in his nature to surrender than it was in hers but the odds arrayed against them were overwhelming. She suspected that he might have resigned himself to the reality that while they’d put up a good fight, this was the one fight they wouldn’t walk away from.
She didn’t tell him she thought he was right.
The first grimslaw that scaled the wall was met by Dean. Maintaining his balance as they stood atop the narrow width of the wall, Dean took two steps to his side and drop down long enough to plunge his blade through the grimslaw’s open mandible. Dark blood spurted out of the wound as the creature let out an agonized screech that seemed to provoke the others into lunging against the wall and scaling its length.
Buffy ran forward, swinging her blade and sending one of the creatures off the wall, flicking it away like she was wielding a giant fly swatter instead of a sword-like weapon. It fell away from the wall, landing on its back on top of another creature. Their dark coloured carapace crunched like fortune cookies and Buffy immediately winced at the comparison. She’d never be able to eat Chinese again.
“Watch out!” He shouted a warning before turning back to deal with another attempt by one of the creatures to kill him.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder and saw two more of the grimslaws climbing over the edge near her. She ran forward, careful not to fall over because that would be the last fall of her life and kicked one of the beasts hard enough to dislodge it from the wall. She looked up just in time to see the other one pounce and Buffy swung the blade in a wide arc, severing it in mid-torso. Half the remains landed on the edge while the other half tumbled over the side. Wincing at the grisly sight, she had just enough time to shove the dead carcass over the edge before she saw another of the creatures emerging to her left. Buffy swung around, catching a glimpse of Dean who was shoving the grimslaw he’d just decapitated off the wall.
The creatures were continuing to swarm, he didn’t know how many he’d killed but he also knew that there were more of them. Buffy was holding up her end of the fight and once again, he marvelled at her speed and agility, even when fighting creepy sons of bitches like these. However, Dean was a realist. Even she wasn’t inexhaustible and he was pushing himself to all limits to keep up with her, to not let these critters get the better of him. He’d gotten used to fighting without guns while in Purgatory but he honestly didn’t know how much longer the two of them could continue battling these creatures or something even worse if they survived this.
“DEAN!” Dean heard Buffy scream and turned around to see a grimslaw leap at him, like one of those jumping spiders in that movie with the giant tarantula terrorising people at the mall.
It landed on him, its spindly legs immediately latching onto his back. Dean stumbled backward, almost toppling over because the creature had landed on him with so much momentum behind it. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet, trying to shove the thing off, barely avoiding its snapping mandibles. Suddenly, white-hot pain lanced through him as he felt something take a bite out of his side. The pain overloaded his senses, took him by surprise and forced a guttural cry out of his mouth. He had just enough time to register that the grimslaw’s second set of mandibles had bitten him before he was driving his blade through its thorax and shoving the creature off him.
“DEAN!” Buffy cried out again, her expression was one of pure panic as Dean was driven to his knees, the pain coursing through him so blinding he had trouble focussing his thoughts for a second. Fuck that hurt, he cursed silently to himself.
She started to take a step towards him when he halted her with one hand, “STOP!” He barked. “I’m fine,” he lied even though the wound he was clutching beneath his ribs was pulsing blood over his fingers.
Dean could already see another grimslaw behind her, crawling over the wall, just as he could see one in front of him. They couldn’t afford to stop, they had to keep fighting. Dean knew of no other way to proceed. Clamping his eyes shut for a second, he fought off the urge to puke and tried to ignore his body’s demand to cease any strenuous activity. Dean forced himself to regain his composure and opened his eyes to see the grimslaw skittering towards him. He swung his blade out, his instincts switching from flight to fight mode and he grit his teeth against the pain to split its skull apart. Forcing himself upright, he brought the weapon down on the grimslaw’s back as it flattened against the floor, mortally wounded.
Buffy was continuing to fight, landing both feet on a grimslaw’s back and forcing its spindling legs to jerk as she stabbed it through the thorax. She looked up to see Dean getting back on his feet, watching his normally upright posture hunch as he struggled against the pain. The wound was bad, she could tell by how he was moving. Even worse than when the razor armed girl had slashed at him.
He’s normal, she kept telling herself, he can’t take much more of this.
She saw him fend off another grimslaw and turned back to the one approaching her. Throwing a powerful front kick, she flung it off the wall, the creature flying off with its legs flailing in outrage. Running forward, she hardly paused when she swung at a grimslaw in her way, wielding her blade like a golf club and tossing it off the wall. Buffy needed to get to Dean, needed to get him away from her or come up with a different plan because staying to fight was no longer an option.
Dean was starting to get woozy. The bleeding wasn’t stopping and he could feel the slick damp against his clothes. Worse than that, the thick scent of fresh blood was whipping the other grimslaws into a frenzy because they seemed to be coming at Buffy and him even faster than before. Or perhaps it seemed that way because he was slowing down in his response time. Another stab, kick and shove and he was driving another monster away, until it felt like he was in constant motion, with no rest in sight. The more he moved, the faster his heart pumped and the more blood he was losing.
It wouldn’t be long now. He was losing too much blood to stay on his feet and then it would be over.
“We’ve got to run!” Buffy declared reaching him, slashing at another grimslaw. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“No,” he said and thrust the point of the blade into a pouncing grimslaw. The creature was impaled on the length of the weapon and Dean had to shake it off like some trash he’d picked up. “You need to make a run for it. I’ll hold them off.”
Buffy stopped short and stared at him, uncomprehending at first. When what he was asking her settled over her brain, her expression turned pale. “NO!” She exclaimed aghast. “I am not leaving you!”
“Counsellor,” he grabbed her arm so that she’d understand that this wasn’t some macho attempt at posturing. “You need to go! I’m not going to last much longer and if you try to keep me alive, you’ll die too. Sammy is coming! He’ll find you and get out of here but you need to leave, right now!”
“I AM NOT GOING TO LEAVE YOU!” She practically screamed at him and a grimslaw that chose to lunge at that point bore the brunt of her fury. “I can’t leave you!” She almost wailed, her heart close to breaking. She’d made that choice once before with Angel and it had almost destroyed her, she couldn’t go through that again. Not twice in one lifetime.
Her pain at the suggestion was so profound that it hurt as much the wound on his side but Dean couldn’t give in to her demand. He loved her, he knew that now and he couldn’t let her die here. Not when there was a chance for her to live, not when it was stopping her from doing what needed to be done. “Buffy, I’m not going to make it! I can’t keep this up and I’m going to slow you down if we try to make a break for it. So you need to go and I’ll hold them back. I don’t want you to die here because of me!”
“I CAN’T!” She burst out, her face contorted in anguish and exasperation. “I won’t leave you behind!”
She grabbed his hand and ran a few steps along the wall, away from the current cluster of grimslaws even though it would give them a pause of seconds only.
“We can make it!” Buffy insisted, catching his face in her hands and was about to say something else when she looked into his eyes and saw the pain there, the pain that was not because he was afraid to die but because he was afraid to leave her this way.
Dean blinked, seeing the grimslaws over her shoulder, skittering quickly towards them. “You’re a pain in the ass and you drive me crazy with your pink Barbie crap and Hello Kitty socks but I don’t want you to die, I want you to live, I want you to hunt down monsters and kick demon asses like you were meant to do, I want you to do that because I love you and it would be worse if I die knowing I couldn’t save you.”
Buffy let out a strangled cry that was fast becoming a sob when she saw Dean’s eyes widen over her shoulder. Turning around, she saw that the grimslaws had caught up to them. They were inching closer and closer, dark bodies along the top of the wall, prepared to run them down or off, whichever came first.
“Get behind me,” Dean ordered preparing to hold them off. “When I say run, you run!”
Buffy was about to protest but somehow he’d moved with surprising speed for someone in his condition. “Dean!” She shouted but it was too late, he was already standing between her and the approaching grimslaws.
He knew at some point, she’d realise it was too late for him and get moving. Maybe she needed to see him die, maybe that would make her understand. “Come on you bastards,” he said waving the blade in front of him to see which one of the sons of bitches would make a run at him. “Come on!”
One of the grimslaws edged out ahead of the others, its legs bowing in preparation to jump. It sprung into the air with a screech, mandibles widening when suddenly something loud and thunderous shattered its cry with a powerful roar and tore the grimslaw apart. Its body exploded, splattering dark blood across the floor.
Dean recognised the sound immediately, it was a shotgun blast.
Reinforcing that thought was another explosion of noise as a second shot was fired, one after the other. The grimslaws reacted immediately, the sound scattering them as they cleared the wall in momentary surprise.
“DEAN!” He heard Sam’s voice calling him from the other side of the wall.
Dean turned to see Sam standing next to a girl he didn’t recognise. The chick was fighting off grimslaws while Sam was taking a more satisfying approach. They were standing next to the dead snake demon, trying to get to Buffy and him. Dean had never thought he’d ever be more relieved to see his brother and closed his eyes to let out of sigh of relief at the salvation that had come for them just in time.
“Cover us!” Buffy shouted at Sam over his shoulder. “We’re coming to you!”
Buffy grabbed Dean, put his arm over her shoulder and started running, ignoring his protestations as Sam’s fired at anything that got in their way. The second front created by Faith and Sam had given them some space to move and they were soon running the debris pile that would lead to the ground. However, before she reached the edge, Buffy jumped, using her slayer strength to take him with her as she launched herself off the edge to land on top of the Olvikan demon.
“I can still walk!” He grumbled as they landed on the turgid flesh of the slowly ripening monster.
“Shut it Winchester!” She ordered, letting him go only when a she could deal with the grimslaw lunging at them. She swung the blade wildly and cut the thing in half.
Dean took the opportunity to break free so that he could help. Now that Sam was here and there was an end in sight, his survival instincts returned with a vengeance and though he knew he couldn’t keep it up for long, he could help her get to Sam.
“Take that you son of a bitch!” Dean brought his boot down on the grimslaw that skittered towards him. Holding it down with his weight, he stabbed it through the back just as another shotgun blast was heard nearby. Another grimslaw exploded, blood and entrails rupturing from broken flesh.
“Come on!” Buffy exclaimed, tugging him along as they descended the snake demon’s scaly hide. She heard Dean curse as they lost their footing, sliding the rest of the way to the ground and landing on their asses. Buffy even managed to land a kick on a grimslaw during their trip down, causing the critter to tumble unceremoniously aside in a tangle of spindly limbs. Buffy jumped a little when she was startled by another shotgun blast that splattered a grimslaw to smithereens.
As soon as Sam had called out to Dean and saw his brother and Buffy coming towards them, Faith had rushed into engage the grimslaw demons. She’d never encountered the critters herself but she’d knew how damn lethal they were. Judging by the red smear on big brother’s shirt, Faith judged that she and Sam had arrived just in time. With Sam blasting away at the creatures swarming around Buffy and Dean, Faith’s attack also drew more of the swarm away from the duo. She was more than adept at cutting a swathe through the critters with the long bladed knife she was carrying.
Another shotgun blast cleared the space between the two sets of hunters and slayers enough for them to finally meet up.
“B!” Faith called out to the blond slayer while she hacked away the grimslaw in her path.
“Faith!” Buffy exclaimed in shock to see the dark hair slayer who had become friend and ally in recent years. It had only taken nine years for them to reach this place in their relationship where Buffy was relieved to see Faith aiding in her rescue. “What are you doing here?”
“G-Man was a little worried about you and your new boyfriend,” Faith winked as she glanced in the direction of the older Winchester. “Asked me to check on you in case your new hottie was evil.”
“Oh he did not!” Buffy’s jaw dropped open in outrage but had little time to comment when she saw Sam running towards his brother.
“Dean!” Sam shouted, tossing his brother the other shotgun he’d brought with him.
“Thank Christ!” Dean exclaimed, catching the weapon with one hand and risked taking his other hand off his oozing wound to catch the box of shells Sam shoved his way when he was close enough. This time, when the pain surged through him, Dean didn’t feel weakened, he just felt pissed. Riding that oh so sweet rage, he loaded the weapon and growled, “Oh you sons of bitches are so going to get paid!” With that, he aimed and fired at the grimslaws behind them, scattering the ugly critters for the moment.
“Come on!” Sam exclaimed, “I know the spell to get us out of here! Let’s go!”
“Give me your gun Sam!” Faith interjected running up to him. “You need to do the spell! You can’t shoot and do that at the same time.”
“I thought you didn’t know how to use a gun!” Sam was hesitant to give the weapon to someone who wasn’t schooled in using one, even if she was right about him needing to concentrate on the spell to get them out of here.
“I said I didn’t like using them, didn’t say I didn't know how!” Faith declared. “Give it up!”
Sam saw Dean and Buffy trying to keep the grimslaws back and realised he didn’t have a choice. “Here.” He handed her the gun and ammunition. “Don’t shoot anything off.”
“Oh Sammy,” Faith laughed as she pocketed the ammunition and then cocked the shotgun with a forceful one-handed pump before blasting away at one of the monsters.
That was so damn sexy, he was at a loss for words until he heard Dean barking at him. “Sammy close your mouth and work the spell!”
“Right,” he shook his head. “Buffy come on!” Sam urged the slayer to keep up with him.
Buffy was reluctant to leave Dean but he seemed to have caught a second wind as he and Faith lay waste to the grimslaws with gunfire and decided that covering Sam while he performed his spell might be the most prudent thing to do.
“Alright, alright!” Buffy conceded reluctantly. “Faith….” She tossed a brief glance at Faith.
“Don’t worry B,” Faith assured her getting what the look meant, “gotta make sure Big Brother is safe for Sammy.”
Buffy glanced at Sam and thought she might have seen the younger Winchester blush. For her part, she was more interested in Faith ensuring that Dean didn’t go kamikaze like he wanted to earlier. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d been willing to die for her to be safe and she didn’t want him falling prey to that logic now that they were so close to escaping.
“Get us out of here Sam!” She declared as she joined him, leaving behind the dead Olvikan and hordes of grimslaw demons.
Sam had already retrieved the cube from his pocket and was hoping to put more space between them and the grimslaws before attempting to open the portal again. However, he saw that even though Dean and Faith were keeping the creatures at bay, the truth was, Sam hadn’t brought an inexhaustible supply of ammunition and eventually, the shotguns would become useless. There was no time to do this safe, it had to be done right now. They’d deal with the consequences on the other side.
Holding out the cube in his hand, Sam started reciting, “Karahnia Stahs ohla varayna discara unas celea mokturna…Karahnia Stahs ohla varayna discara unas celea mokturna!”
Once again, the same light poured out of the cube’s ornate design, the cryptic mechanism unlocking to reveal the figure inside. The same white brilliance illuminated the darkened realm like a mini sun, forcing Sam to look away. Beneath his feet, he could feel the seismic tremors that felt like mini quakes under the cold marble floor. The shuddering effect of the tremors travelled along the floor because when Sam stopped running to let Dean and Faith catch up, he could see the grimslaws had stopped following them. The quakes had unsettled the creatures enough for the swarm to halt its advance and then begin a hasty retreat.
Instead of holding on to the cube, as he had before, Sam let it drop to the floor. Once again its impact shuddered through his bones like he’d dropped a safe onto a concrete floor from ten storeys up.
“Hang on!” Sam ordered and extended his hand towards Faith. More bright light continued to pour out of the cube corresponding with the tremors growing more violent. As soon as Faith was in reach, Sam pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her waist as if holding her close was to only way to ensure that she went with him when the portal opened. It wasn’t but the action seemed so natural to both of them that Sam didn’t question it.
Dean had lowered the gun, grateful to be able to stop shooting because what scant reserves he had used to get to this point was almost gone. The pain had come back in full force, slamming into him as if he’d run straight into a brick wall. The shotgun wavered in his grip and though the grimslaws were no longer in pursuit, Dean was reluctant to let it go. Unfortunately, maintaining his grip on the weapon was no longer an option as his hand clutched his side again and he felt more blood pulsing out of his torn flesh. Dean was having trouble keeping steady and thought his legs might give out.
Drawn to the light like a moth to the flame, Dean staggered forward and almost fell when he felt Buffy’s arm coiling around his body.
“It’s okay, I got you.” She said looking up at him.
“Yeah you do Counsellor,” he nodded meeting her gaze with warm affection. “You damn well do.”
Dean was still mesmerized by that smile of hers, the one that hit him like a bullet to the brain and the proverbial arrow to the heart when the cube’s radiating energy exploded and enveloped them all.
TWO DAYS LATER...
"Hey B, I know it’s cute but you know you can't keep it forever right?" Faith smirked at Buffy while she leaned against the kitchen counter watching the Chosen One making breakfast for the wounded hunter who was currently watching episodes of Doctor Sexy, MD on her sofa.
"Oh you're funny," Buffy made a face at the brunette slayer as she put the finishing touches on the meal she'd prepared for Dean. While it wasn't quite as gross as getting fresh blood for Angel, Buffy wasn't sure that cooking bacon and eggs, with toast and all the trimmings was any better. Her arteries hardened just looking at the stuff but according to Dean, monster hunting was great for burning calories.
Faith smirked, seeing the slight blush that nevertheless crept into Buffy's cheeks as she carried the tray of food to Dean who was currently convalescing at Casa Summers. After all these years, it appeared Queen B hadn't changed when it came to her relationships with men. When she fell, she fell hard. For once, Faith approved of her choice. Dean Winchester was a cross between Angel and Spike, with just a dash of human Riley thrown in for good measure. While the guy was alpha male in every sense of the word, he'd been prepared to die for her and apparently got a stack whenever he saw Buffy kick ass.
That could not be a bad thing.
Not to say that Faith didn't have her own warm sentiments towards Sam Winchester. Buffy had told her about the trials Sam had undertaken, the one that would toss all demons back to hell. Faith understood that these demons were nothing like Lorne and Clem. They were seriously badass and were the same demons that were referenced in the Bible, thanks to the merging of their two worlds. It was a task that no ordinary human should have to undertake and seeing its toll on him, strengthened Faith's affection for the younger Winchester.
It was just the same stupid, selfless kind of thing that Angel would have done and had at the very end.
"What's happened?" Buffy asked Dean as she set the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to him.
"I think Dr Piccolo is pregnant," Dean said quickly, sitting up a little to make room for her even though his eyes were still glued to the set.
"Get out," Buffy exclaimed as she got comfortable and watched the dramatics of Mercy Hospital on the set, "how do you know?"
"She keeps holding her stomach and going to the bathroom," he explained with such seriousness he could have been explaining the details of a job.
"Could be cramps," Faith quipped, having no interest in soap operas of any kind but was rather amused by the two on the sofa. She liked wrestling and monster truck rallies herself.
"Nice," Dean made a face at Faith who was a very different kind of a slayer. Clad in leather, riding a sweet motorbike, she had bad girl written all over her and while Dean might have found her exceedingly hot when he was younger, right now, he was enjoying Sam tripping over himself around her.
Faith rolled her eyes and turned away, going to grab some juice out of Buffy's fridge. They'd gotten back from Razor Realm two days ago and the first thing they'd done upon their return was to take Dean to the hospital. Unlike Sam's injuries, Dean's were too severe to wait for Caridad to reach him and so they'd admitted him under the guise of an animal attack. Dean had remained there long enough to get patched up and receive a few pints of blood to replace what he'd lost fighting the grimslaws before making a discreet departure from the hospital. They'd snuck him out and brought him back to Buffy's place where he'd recuperating since.
Sam had dropped Scheckly's cube in the Razor Realm on purpose, aware that once the portal had opened up and they'd crossed into their own world again, they'd have no further the need of the object. Besides, leaving it in its home dimension was the safest way to dispose of the artefact. At least in the Razor Realm, there would be no unsuspecting victims in danger of coming into contact with it and bringing to life their worst nightmares. Better it remained where it was, trapped in that nihilistic world with the rest of its monstrous residents.
Sam came through the front door and stopped short to see Dean and Buffy on the sofa. He raised his gaze at Faith who caught his bemused expression and winked at him as she raised her cup of coffee at him in greeting. Giving her a little smile, Sam turned back to take in the sight of his brother and his girlfriend in this very domestic situation. Since Dean had come here from the hospital, Buffy had insisted on playing nurse to Dean and Sam was certain that Dean was loving every moment of it. Sam had no problem with that because he could live without Dean's bitching when presented with healthy food. Still...bacon and eggs?
"Really?" Sam asked, staring critically at the tray's contents, "No pancakes or pie? I mean shall we get you some ribs or maybe some buffalo wings?"
"Hey I'm hurt," Dean retorted completely unrepentant as he picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, a culinary 'screw you' to his brother. "I need decent food to heal up,” he said chewing.
Sam rolled his eyes and looked at Buffy, "he shouldn't be eating this stuff," he pointed out.
"But you heard him," Buffy said dropping her head against Dean's shoulder, sending a girlish pout Sam's way, "he's hurt and I can't say no to my guy." She capped the comment with a smile of mischief.
Dean's shit-eating grin made Sam give up.
"You two deserve each other," he snorted but the truth was, Sam was happy for his brother. He still felt guilty for messing things up for Dean when he'd built a life with Lisa during that whole year when he was without a soul. With Buffy, Sam had never seen Dean happier and after the last few years, Dean deserved a little bit of comfort. "The Impala's packed and gassed up so I'm going to head out before it gets too late. I'll be back to pick you up in a couple of days."
"You sure you don't mind?" Dean asked, trying not to feel guilty for wanting to hang around here for a bit. He liked the idea of being fussed over by Buffy for the next few days while he recovered from his wounds. If he returned to the bunker Dean was certain that Sam would try to feed him 'healthy' food like tofu and sprouts, or something way worse.
Sam's determination to observe the five food groups was scarier than a demon.
"No I don't mind," Sam said honestly. "It will be kind of cool to go see this Watcher Council branch in Cleveland."
"Yeah G-Man's all excited to get the lowdown on what went down in Stull Cemetery three years ago," Faith said slipping on her leather coat as she came up alongside Sam.
Buffy had gotten in touch with Giles after they'd returned from the Razor Realm and revealed Sam's theory about what had happened during Glory's attempt to bring down the dimensional walls. Somehow, the barrier between their two dimensions had weakened enough to merge and the result was a world of hunters and slayers, walking the same Earth completely unaware of each other or the change that had taken place. Giles seemed to agree, especially when Sam and Dean were in possession of the true nature of what had taken place in the Stull Cemetery three years ago.
There was still so much missing, so much knowledge that was either absent from the Watcher Council records or the Men of Letters archives. In light of that, Giles had invited Sam to visit the nearest chapter of the Watcher Council located in Cleveland, Ohio. That suited Dean fine since as much as he cared for Buffy, he was not ready to trust this Watcher Council with the location of the bunker at Lebanon. Furthermore, Dean was hoping that Sam could find out if this Watcher Council had some information about the demon tablets.
“Well try not to geek out too much on them,” Dean advised, still mindful of Sam’s condition even if he was the one injured at present. “Remember to rest your coconut before you get info overload.”
“Don’t sweat it Deano,” Faith replied automatically. “I’ll make sure Sammy here gets his rest.” She winked at Sam with an utterly sinful smirk on her full lips and was delighted when she saw his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously. Too cute.
“Faith,” Buffy returned sarcastically, “remember it looks cute but you don’t want to break it.”
Still, despite Faith’s obvious attentions towards Sam, Buffy had a feeling that he knew how to hold off any of Faith’s forward passes if he really wanted to. Besides, she got the sense that Faith’s innuendo was only talk. There was something in the way Faith regarded Sam when she wasn’t flirting shamelessly, that showed Buffy something deeper was at work here. Of course, Buffy could never come out and ask Faith about it. Even with their odd friendship, it was never wise to quiz Faith about her unspoken emotions. The girl just didn’t do sharing.
“And she gives as well as she gets,” Faith replied good-naturedly, taking no offence at the comment because this was how her relationship with B function best. After the turbulent years between them where they had tried to kill each other, this was the best they could ever hope to be to each other and it was enough. They were too warriors on the battlefield who understood each other better than either would like to admit and that was something worth nurturing.
“Don’t worry B,” Faith assured her with typical mischief, “Anything I break I can put back together with crazy glue.”
“Well this doesn’t feel awkward at all,” Sam retorted, uncertain how he felt being objectified like this. Of course, it was also kind of flattering from a girl who could break him in half if she got in her mind to get surly.
Dean laughed, enjoying the shade of red that Sam was turning, especially after all the shit that his baby brother had given him about Buffy earlier on. As he eased back into the sofa, his girl at his side, bacon within easy reach and Dr Sexy on the TV, he took in the sight of his brother’s attempt to deal with the sexually charged slayer and allowed himself one satisfying thought.
Revenge was awesome.