Spoilers: None so far
Warnings: Violence and language
Summary: Buffy’s life after the fall of Sunnydale takes a tragic turn, turning her to a hunter.
Disclaimer: The only real major difference in the Buffy story is how things ended up after the last episode of the series. It doesn’t follow the comics. All characters and storylines from Buffy and Supernatural belong to their original creators, not me.
SEE THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
“So, you…what? Do this for fun?”
The man I had come to know as Dean Winchester had decided the best course of action was to get some breakfast so we could sort things out in a somewhat more comfortable manner. It was then six in the morning and I was far beyond exhausted. My body didn’t even feel real. I had told him that I wasn’t hungry, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. That didn’t stop him from leaving the motel, only to return minutes later with a bag of greasy breakfast sandwiches made of egg and sausage, the fast food equivalent of hash browns, and two very large cups of coffee. He reminded me of a little boy, wolfing down the food in such an eager way. Had we been in better circumstances, I probably would have laughed. A small grin had to suffice.
“No,” he said, his mouth still full of food, “it’s not for fun.”
“Really? Because you see, I didn’t choose to do this shit. I can think of about a million different things I would rather be doing with my life.”
I watched him swallow and clear his throat. For a moment, he was silent and looked very downtrodden.
“Demons killed several people I loved. People I still love to this day.”
“So, you thought you’d work on your own vengeance against them? I can’t tell you how stupid that is. I was at least born into this. I have the strength for it. You could get yourself killed so easily.”
He appeared to take that into consideration before taking a long drink of his coffee.
“I can’t argue with that. But I was raised in this. It’s practically all I know.”
I swallowed a piece of my fatty sandwich and wondered how bad it really was for me. Shoving the thought aside, I took a drink of the coffee. I wasn’t normally a huge fan of the drink, but had grown accustomed to it in the past year.
“What do you mean by being raised in it?”
He shook his head after taking another bite of food.
“I’m not getting into this until you tell me how the hell it is that you are able to do what you do. You say you were didn’t choose this life? Well, who chose it for you?”
“Gee, Dean,” I said, my voice taking on a patronizing tone, “I thought you knew everything about me.”
“I didn’t say I knew everything about you. All I know is that I got your name from a dying girl, you somehow survived a demon attack that no one else survived, and now when we finally find you, you’re killing off vampires like it’s nothing. Beyond that, I’m pretty much in the dark.”
I really didn’t want to have to explain the entire lineage of Slayers. It was just too complicated. So, I simplified.
“It’s a very long story. But let’s just put it this way. I kill vampires, to be specific. I also go after other supernatural things, but vampires are my main gig. This isn’t something I chose, it chose me.”
“So you’re…not a hunter?”
He looked so confused that it was almost amusing. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The term hunter was so broad to me. I had never heard it used in regards to what I did.
“No. I’m a Slayer.”
“And that’s different…how?”
“Slayers are born with power to destroy evil. Our bodies are essentially killing machines, if you want to put it that way. I don’t know exactly what a hunter is, but I take it by all of the high powered weapons you carry around that you don’t possess such abilities.”
I eyed his shotgun, which was propped up against the dresser.
“Hey, just because I use a gun doesn’t mean I don’t possess abilities-“
“Yeah, let’s drop the macho male bullshit act for now, okay? You must know something about what I can do. How you didn’t find me earlier than now is something I find a little unbelievable. Are people that hunt supposed to be able to track things pretty well?”
The half grin on his face was one of slight embarrassment.
“The thing about that is…well, we found you a few times. You just weren’t that easy to catch. You move quickly and are pretty good about not being found when you don’t want to be.”
A feeling of self-satisfaction coursed through me. I wasn’t sure why. It only confirmed what a sad existence I led.
“So how did you not know my name until tonight?”
“I knew your name,” he scoffed. “That was just something I said to get you to open the door.”
“Look how well that turned out for you,” I said, pointing to the harsh purple bruise I had left on his arm.
“Hey, I got mounted by a cute little blond who likes to play rough. I’ve had nights end worse for me.”
I rolled my eyes at him and finished the last bite of my sandwich. Disregarding his presence, I then crawled under the covers for some much needed sleep. It amazed me that I was up at all. I felt like a zombie. There was no need to kick him out. He would either stay or find his way out on his own. If he stayed, I didn’t care. He wasn’t going to hurt me.
“You’re going to sleep?”
He seemed upset by the notion.
“I’ve been up all night. I need to get my beauty sleep. You know, all four hours of it.”
The sarcasm in the last sentence was entirely intentional, but truthful at the same time. A good night’s rest was a rare occurrence, something completely unbeknownst to me. He remained quiet, not sure what his next move should be. After lying in an awkward silence for what felt like far too long, I sat up.
“Have you slept at all?”
“I don’t really sleep.”
“Yeah, well join the club. Come on,” I said, patting the spot next to me on the bed. “Just stay on top of the covers and I won’t kick the shit out of you for trying to come onto me.”
Even after all the coffee the two of us had just consumed, he was more than eager to lie down on a comfortable bed. I had to give the cheap little motel credit for one thing; they had some of the nicest mattresses I had ever slept on. Before I could say anything else to him, he was asleep, snoring lightly and weighing down the blankets on his side. I watched him sleep for a few seconds and then realized he still had his boots on. Knowing what a pain it was to wake up in your shoes, I reached down, untied them, and tossed them on the floor.
I didn’t know what to think. The emotions running through me were twisting around at my core. The pain of knowing that I had left Dawn to suffer and die without me hurt me more than I thought anything ever would. Since the day I had left, my soul had seemed to harden, not allowing any real feelings to penetrate it. There had been no proper mourning for anyone, which I knew at the time would come back to haunt me, but did nothing about it anyway. Despite not wanting to allow myself to trust anyone, I was beginning to wonder if I had a new ally. Finally, I closed my eyes and curled up beside him, sleeping soundly for the first time in nearly a year.