Lady Manson (ladymanson) wrote,
Lady Manson

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Living at a Pace That Kills: Chapter Nine - Buffy/Dean Fic

Title: Living at a Pace That Kills: Chapter Nine
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None so far
Warnings: Violence and language
Genre: Thriller
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.

We had decided it would be best to move to a different motel after Dean was healed. To be honest, I was certain he wasn’t healed. It had only been a few days and he was having difficulty moving around, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up. He was terribly persistent though, so Sam and I had simply made up our minds not to try to get him off his feet again. A new room was needed though. There just wasn’t enough space for the three of us.

I had parked the Harley beside the Impala in front of some no name roadside motel and moved to help Dean out of the car. He gave me a look of disgust, which I ignored as I slid an arm around him and let him lean on me in order to walk properly. Our newest place of dwelling was in just about the same style as our last, with the exception of several square feet of extra space. The ugly retro look that may at one time looked good had faltered to faded orange carpet and awful wallpaper. Two large beds were on the far side of the room, covered in green blankets that clashed horribly with the remainder of the room. A matching green sofa sat in the far corner across from them, appearing heavily worn with small tears in the material and absolutely no softness.

We still had a kitchen, complete with a refrigerator that wouldn’t be used that often and a stove that hadn’t been replaced since at least the fifties. Although it appeared that the motel staff had done their best to clean it, dark stains that were most likely etched into the top remained.

“Have either of you seen this bathroom?” I yelled out to them after we were finished hauling in bags and had become slightly moved in.

“What about it?” I heard Dean yell back, his voice nowhere near as concerned as mine.
I was standing just inside the frame of the bathroom door. The room itself was no larger than a closet. I would be shocked if more than one person could fit in it at a time. It was a filthy mess. Whoever the last tenant had been, they had cared little about their cleanliness. Cigarette ash was everywhere.

“It’s tiny and…gross,” I said in perhaps the most feminine tone I had ever mustered.

I could feel him behind me suddenly.

“You’ve been on the run for a year and this is the worst thing you’ve seen?” he asked, his tone taking on a sardonic edge.

“Dude, dirty bathrooms are just…eww…”

I didn’t know what else to say. Turning back, I noticed that Dean had walked away and was sitting on the bed cleaning one of his smaller guns.


“What?” he asked, not looking at me.

“What are we supposed to do? This is awful.”

“Clean it. Or get Sam to clean it. God knows he will feel the same when he sees it.”
I groaned and slammed the bathroom door shut, trying to ignore it. There were several pistols and rifles sitting on the other bed after being carried in from the car. I carefully hid them in select places, ones that would be hidden to anyone who may somehow get into the room, but still accessible to us. Boxes of bullets were stuffed into drawers and bags of rock salt were out of sight, beneath the bed. The moment I picked up a select gun, Dean suddenly spoke.

“That ones goes in the safe.”


His declaration confused me since he hadn’t cared much about any of the guns or anything else in the room for that matter.

“That gun – put it in the safe,” he said, pointing at both my hand and the wall safe across the room.


“Stop asking questions, okay? I’ll explain later, just make sure that was is in that safe please.”

I was annoyed, but disregarded it. Wanting to drop the subject, I pacified him by locking it securely inside the safe.


We were no closer to finding out the location of our hungry ghost. Sam had filled us with numerous new facts though, ones that made us none the more confident. Apparently they could only be seen in their true form by night. Not only that, not everyone could see them that way. Only people in specific mental conditions could see them, so unless one of them was somewhat mentally immobilized, we would have to find the person it was possessing. I wasn’t that eager to accidentally catch sight of one anyway. From what we had found, the things were walking metaphors for their conditions. They looked as human as possible, but had incredibly shrunken faces and limbs, tiny throats, and enormous stomachs to accentuate their tremendous appetites. I didn’t need to see that.

“We need to go out. This research is doing nothing but boring the hell out of me. And neither of you are entertained by it either, so don’t lie.”

The two looked at me, surprise covering their faces.

“Don’t give me that look. We’ve been doing nothing but this for…how long? God, it’s after ten!” I said, looking at the clock and realizing I had been in the motel for nearly eight hours.

“Let’s go out. Maybe we can find something by talking to people. Or maybe we can just have a good time.”

Neither of them could say anything back to that. They knew as well as me that we were becoming a bit cabin feverish doing nothing but sitting inside. Dean hadn’t been out in nearly a week, apart from moving to the new place. Before they could say anything to the contrary, I leapt to my feet and went to the bathroom to put on some makeup. Sam had cleaned the room for me, something that told me that either he was a clean a person as I was or chivalry truly was not dead. I switched into a pair of dark jeans and a bubblegum pink halter top, which looked much better than the sweats I had been lounging around in. It only took me a few minutes to make myself look somewhat decent hair and skin wise.

“Wow, look at you,” Dean said with a low whistle when I finally left the bathroom.

“It’s nothing,” I said with a slight laugh, “let’s go.”

I was watching the lights of Chicago close in on us as the Impala drove towards the city. We weren’t quite sure where we were going, so once we hit a street that was littered with people dressed nearly the same as me, Dean parked the car in a nearby lot. Although we weren’t sure exactly what we were looking for, as the ghost wasn’t going to just make itself known to us, we watched people as we walked down the street. Part of my mind was focused on the pain in my feet caused by the pink heels that matched my shirt. I tried to overlook it, but found it impossible.

“Hey, guys, how about we go in here?” I asked, no longer able to take the throbbing.

I was standing before a little bar, one that was small, but looked nice. The customers looked to be from just about every walk of life and I didn’t feel we would be given any trouble. They shrugged, happy that I had been the one to make a decision. We made our way to the back and sat at a corner table, one that gave us a view of everyone in the building. Unfortunately, no one really stood out.


The days of pain and boredom had gotten to us. I knew it was that which caused us to think that drinking large pitchers of long island iced teas was a good plan. I was beyond the buzzed point and was ready to do or say anything. The strong liquors had made me incredibly slap happy. Lucky for me and Dean, Sam had taken to only drinking a couple beers. He said someone would have to drive because he knew Dean would be damned if he had to leave the Impala alone somewhere.

We had been there for hours, so many that I felt it may be close to closing time, but then again, I could be completely turned around. My mind was a blur. There was a dance floor that took up a majority of the bar across the way from us. It was messing with me. There were too many brightly colored lights and the house music they played me feel like I was in a trance or some really elaborate dream. I did my best to keep my eyes off it, but it proved difficult.

“These cheese fries are really good, you know that? I mean, what do you think it is that makes them so good?”

The slur in my voice was so obvious that the brothers could do nothing but laugh at me. My once dance floor centered mind had suddenly hopped over to the cheese fries someone had ordered. I couldn’t remember who had decided on such a fascinating appetizer.

“Maybe you should slow down,” Dean said, not doing much to detour me from the glass in front of me, which I took another long gulp out of.

“I’m…fine…” I muttered.

“Sure you are. Just keep eating those fries. Lay off the booze for a bit.”

I didn’t want to argue with him and didn’t see the point while I had an incredible pile of cheeses fries in front of me. They were so damn good. So when Dean pulled the glass away from me and replaced it with one filled with water, I said nothing.

“You’re fun, you know that?” I stammered, pointing at Dean with a cheese soaked French fry. “I can see it in you. Even though you try to be all serious, I bet you’re a lot of fun…”

He just stared at me, obviously amused with my state.

“Don’t give me that look, you know what I mean…”

“No, I don’t,” he taunted, grinning at me the whole time, “please enlighten me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Sam sighed, not drunk enough to partake in our idiotic style of conversing or flirting or whatever we were doing. “I think I’m going to go pay the check.”

“Take your time,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off me as his brother left the table.

I slid my chair as close to his as possible, grinning drunkenly from ear to ear. He had been drinking nearly as much as me, but wasn’t my size. He could handle the large amount of alcohol, whereas I was afraid to stand, knowing I would lose my footing. It didn’t matter though. I was too busy uncharacteristically hitting on the man whose bones I had broken days ago. For a reason unbeknownst to me, I seized his hands, squeezing them as my words spilled out in as gnarled rubbish.

“We could sneak out of here, you know,” I said in a voice that meant to come out like a whisper, but was considerably louder.

“What?” he asked, laughing.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny,” I said, laughing nearly as much as he was.

“Yes, it is.”

I rolled my eyes, still laughing at nothing, and then came to a sudden halt, my mind telling me to get out of the bar and drag him with me.

“Look,” I spoke sloppily, “it’s been like…months since I’ve been with…anyone. And I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah, Buffy, you’re trashed.”

There was a strong emphasis on the last word that made me realize he was very serious. That certainly put a damper on the moment.

“What…no…I’m not – I’m just fine…”

That statement was canceled out the second I stood and collapsed straight into his arms. He pulled me to my feet then and grabbed my shoes and bag from beneath the table. Until then, I forgotten that I had even taken them off.

“What? Where are we going?” I mumbled, my face pressed against his chest and closed my eyes.

He didn’t answer as we began to walk slowly in what I guessed to be the direction of the door. I felt myself begin to fade a would have probably passed out on my feet if I hadn’t heard a sudden scream. It was loud enough to shake me to the core and I felt a sense of fear. When I opened my eyes, I saw that the bar was encased in darkness. The music had shot out suddenly and the two of us stood still until another scream tore through the night, soon accompanied by many more.

“Oh, shit, not now…” he groaned, still holding me up.

I was shaking then, as it had grown unnaturally cold in the room. I gripped onto him tighter.


One of the yellow toned lights used for the dance floor suddenly illuminated a woman standing at the front of the bar. She was a petite creature, perhaps a bit too skinny with pale skin and shoulder length blond hair with pink dyed into the ends. I thought she would have been a cute girl had her eyes not been solid black. Two much larger brute style men stood behind her, guarding the door.

“The next person who speaks dies first, got it?”

The silence that followed seemed to satisfy her.

“Wow, you actually believed that?”

A sick, maniacal laughter escaped her then just before we watched her advance on a woman mere feet from her. The woman screeched in horror just before the thing tore out her throat with her teeth. My eyes widened in horror. Although I had seen vampires go after people for years, that was different. That woman was no vampire – she was something else, something I had never seen. From what I could see, she didn’t drink the blood. That was simply a side effect. She tore the flesh from the poor woman.

When her victim dropped to the floor with a sickening thud, she wiped the blood from her mouth and looked around.

“Who’s next?”

Tags: fanfiction: btvs/spn, fanfiction: buffy/dean, fanfiction: crossover

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