Lady Manson (ladymanson) wrote,
Lady Manson

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Living at a Pace That Kills: Chapter Twelve - Buffy/Dean Fanfic

Title: Living at a Pace That Kills: Chapter Twelve
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.
Also available at HERE.

*Author's note - This is the first time in almost a year that I have touched this story for a number of reasons.  The largest being because I last touched it just before I got laid off and it kind of floated around on flash drives in my boxes from work.  Second being that I caught a LOT of shit from people because I changed Buffy's character by allowing her to drink and let people get killed.  OH NO! It's called AU, people.  Neither you nor I know what the creators of the shows would have done with the characters, so if you have a problem with it, do not read it.  It makes something I do for fun not fun anymore, which is really uncool.

He wasn’t there the next morning.  I hadn’t anticipated him to be.  When I awoke, the rain was still coming down and it was darker than usual outside.  I briefly wondered if he would come back until I suddenly heard the sound of the key twisting in the door.  When it opened, I saw him standing in the opening with a bag of some kind of breakfast between his teeth and two coffees in his hands.  He quickly retreated to the small kitchen table.

“Please, just stay there.  Don’t help or anything,” he said when he was able to put the bag down.

I was quick to pull on my discarded clothing and join him at the table, ignoring his sardonic remark.  There were numerous donuts before me, probably because he was either very hungry or had no clue what kind I liked.  Little did he know, I could have cared less.  I was hungry and they all looked very good.  For the first few minutes that we gorged on food, we didn’t say a word to one another.  Then I turned to my coffee.

“So, what happens now?”

He set down his own coffee and eyed me strangely.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happens now?  Are you just going to leave again?”

He was reluctant to speak and I felt the need to reiterate myself.

“I don’t know what to think right now.  You disappeared and I didn’t think you would be back.  Then you just…showed up last night.”

“Look, I had to burn my own brother’s body.  Do you have any idea how awful that is?”

I clearly didn’t, but I had an idea of how horrible it was to lose family to such a creature. 

“I’m not giving you shit, okay?  I just want to know what to expect.  I don’t really know you.  I don’t know if you came back this morning just because you fucked me last night or because you want to keep working with me.”

“Can’t it be both?”

“Yes,” I said, more automatically than anything.  I really hadn’t expected him to say that, but it was nice to hear. 


Things were strange with us for quite a while.  I hadn’t officially introduced him to the nature of my patrolling; something that I still didn’t feel comfortable bringing him on.  He insisted that he come with me, but I was still trying to ditch him.  Granted, it annoyed him beyond the telling of things, but I had the feeling that he was going to start following me anyway.

The hungry ghost had seemed to have vanished from the area.  Not having Sam around was not only a serious downer emotionally, but it made things harder when it came to research.  We watched the news and listened to the word on the street, which was entirely bare.  We frequented bars like rats and still found nothing.  Our sleep was nonexistent, so it wasn’t as if we weren’t trying.

Months passed.  It was considerably colder and close to Christmas.  I was walking down Madison Avenue in the middle of the night, hiding my head amongst the several others that were out, despite the late and very cold hour.  It was a very bitter winter and I wouldn’t have even been out if I hadn’t been trying to ditch Dean.  Although there was little snow, it was very cold.  I had enjoyed his company, but he seemed to be expecting something more of me at the time, as if being the Slayer came with additional smarts with the strength.    

I passed by several large stores, ones that were still open since it was the holiday season and people would still be willing to saunter the streets and give up their hard earned money.  It had been easier to maintain what some may consider an income since being paired up with Dean.  He was quite a gambler and had his way with extracting money from people in legal, although not always ethical, manners.  In the old days, I would have frowned on such activities, but I didn’t care anymore.  Being able to eat and not having to sleep on the street was more important now.

Just as I was about to turn onto another street, I felt someone slam into my shoulder.  Due to the non-abrasive nature of my boots, I slid on the ice and landed painfully on my back.

“What the hell…?” I winced, looking up at the man standing over me.

The man was dressed in very improper clothing.  In such a temperature, his small pale hands should have been frozen solid.  He also wore nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, which was turning some heads in it of itself.  He was staring at me strangely.

“You’re it?  Jesus, you’re nothing…”

“I’m…what?  Who are you?”

I couldn’t decide whether it would be easier to be angry or annoyed at that point.  The pain in my back was subsiding, but I was rather pissed about the hell of a large bruise I would have the next day.  That’s when the man, who was one of those rather scraggly looking creatures that didn’t look capable of harming a fly, transformed.  His small pale blue eyes blackened to those of a demon and his diminutive stature appeared to grow.

“Oh, shit…” I muttered, leaping to my feet and miraculously not falling flat on my back again.

I threw him to the ground, something neither he nor those around us saw coming.  There was an immense amount of pressure on his part when he tried to fight, but it was a futile effort.

“Hey, lady, what the hell is going on?” I heard a call from the crowd.

I always found it hysterical how people immediately jumped to the side of the girl in these situations.  Never mind the fact that I had the man easily pinned down.

“Nothing!” I yelled back, wanting not to cause a scene, “We’re just talking.”

I yanked the thing to its feet and walked down the remainder of the street, away from the crowd.  He was eager to get away from me, struggling the entire way.  Just as I began to wonder exactly what I was going to do with him, I felt a tugging from the other side of him.

“Oh, it’s you,” I sighed, a touch relived. 

Dean was holding the other side of the thing, gripping tightly into its quite possibly dead host’s tiny shoulder.  There appeared to be a reason to why he was moving in a given direction, so I simply followed him, figuring it the best thing to do.  We walked with it for roughly six blocks before we found a parking ramp which housed the Impala.

“What makes you think it’ll stay in here?”

“This,” he said, matter-of-factly, pointing at the inside of the backseat.

Before I could see what he was pointing at, he heaved the creature into the back of the car.  It made an unbearable hissing sound, something I wished I could block from my audible range.

“You’re unreal, you know that?” I asked, the moment he peeled out of the ramp and onto the street.  It was only a few minutes before he was on the highway, as he didn’t give much attention to the traffic.  The thing in the backseat was thrashing about, angry and spitting.  I jabbed it in the teeth once to knock it back and surprisingly, it backed down.

“I can’t believe you’re following me.”

“Would you quit with that?  How many times do I need to tell you that you have to learn to trust me?”

The thing started in again with its unforgiving movements.

“Okay, that’s it,” he said, tearing from the highway and into a nearby empty field. 

The countryside was nearly pitch black, only slightly illuminated by the moon.  I was thrown about a foot into the dashboard when he slammed on the brakes.  He was out of the car before I knew it and had dragged it out of the backseat and into the field, punching and kicking the whole way.  When he pulled it out, I caught sight of a strange looking pentagram style design etched into the roof of the interior of the car.

“Is this the son of a bitch that killed Sam?”

And all of my family and friends?

“I highly doubt it.  I’d probably be in worse shape right now if it was,” I said, following him out of the car.

The demon was suddenly on its feet and threw Dean into the cold hard earth so hard that the sound made me flinch.  As it made an effort to run, I tore after it and knocked it back to the ground.

“She’s not here anymore, you know?” it sputtered in a pathetic manner before I had a chance to hit it again.

Seeing a demon cower was a strange sight, but this one was obviously a weakling by nature.  That and it tended to roll over considerably easy.


The black eyes had sunk back to those of humanity, but it remained within its host.  The human eyes were suddenly very fearful.  In the background, I could hear Dean hobbling towards us. 

“You might as well tell us, you measly little fuck.  I’m getting a little sick of having my insides broken apart, not to mention having my brother killed!” he shot at it, his voice rising.

He pulled a small flask from his jacket then and sprinkled what I guessed to be holy water on it.  The thing screeched and rolled about on the ground.  Dean grinned in what I could only consider to be quite a maniacal way.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that!  That was her!”

“Her…her who?” he screamed.

“I don’t know her name!  None of us do!  She’s just who she is!”

“Well, that’s just fantastic.  So tell us, where is she?”

 There was actually a bit of reluctance in the human eyes of the soulless being.  It was a rare sight.  I was unable to tell if it felt that it would be disloyal by telling us, or if it was just imagining what would happen if the location was revealed. 

“Give me that shit,” I ordered, snatching the flask from his hand before he could tell what I was talking about.  I opened it and began to pour it down the throat of the shaking monster lying on the ground.  It shook horribly and foamed at the mouth.  Had I not been nearly locking its mouth shut with my hand, I’m sure it’s screams would have been heard throughout the entire Midwest.

“Hey, ease off,” Dean tried ineffectively to pull me away from it, “that’s a human in there somewhere.”

“Not anymore.  He’s dead,” I stated, not moving in the least.

I had no way of knowing that; it was just had a bad feeling.  Finally, when I decided it had enough, I released it and it coughed up some kind of nasty black foam.

“New York…” it choked, “she’s in New York…”

“Specific please.”

“I don’t know…she said she was headed to New York because of the population and the tourism.  There’s a lot to eat there…”

The voice that was strong back in the city was weaker than that of a small child then.  The host’s body had almost shriveled in nature as well.  I crouched down beside it.

“You’re not like her, are you?”

The human eyes looked away.

“Your host is dead.  I’m right, aren’t I?”

It didn’t say another word.  I turned back to Dean.

“You know how to kill demons, don’t you?”

He nodded, his eyes wide.

“Then get rid of this thing.  We have to go to New York.”

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

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