World So Cold

Full Summary: Three years have passed since the destruction of Sunnydale. Buffy is now a leader of an army of slayers, guiding them to protect mankind. Times are peaceful, but Buffy—plagued by loss and disconnection—can do all she can to hide her inner demons. Meanwhile, in a very different world, hunters Sam and Dean are knee-deep in angels and demons as they try to close the Gates of Hell. But priorities soon shift when a new threat emerges ... the likes of which the brothers have never seen. When a strange blonde with a funny name appears, the two can only guess where it leads. Mysteriously torn away from her home, Buffy is thrown into a strange world's apocalypse ... and an even stranger bond with a certain Winchester.

Main Pairing: Eventual Buffy/Dean. I used to never give this crossover ship much thought, but while comparing the two shows I realized how much potential a love story between these two could have. They're so much alike and would be able to understand each other so well. It's a shame it's crack because if they did meet, they'd be a perfect fit for each other. My favorite crossover ship, definitely! ;)

Timeline: Mid-Season Eight of Supernatural, picking up after "Everybody Hates Hitler" and veering off from there. Post-BtVS.

Disclaimer: All rights go to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. This is just a "what-if" story for entertainment. If I had even partial power, then most of this "season" would probably happen.

A/N: I love both Buffy and Supernatural. Dean, Sam, and Buffy are by far IMO some of the most well-written heroes in TV history so a blend between both shows seems like a match made in Heaven. This story is more than just a Dean/Buffy love story though. Buffy and especially Supernatural have never been just about love. It's also about what makes both shows so amazing: responsibility, sacrifice, flawed heroes, and the struggle between good and evil. It's going to be emotional and plays a lot on the characters' inner demons, a lot like the real seasons. I guess that's why I'm so fond of this story. :)

I really appreciate any kind of major OCC thoughts, especially for the SPN characters. It's the first time I've ever written them and I'd like to nail their characters and voice as well as I can the Buffyverse ones. Thanks! :)

Brave New World

~~Buffy~~

Air lashed against Buffy Summers' entire body as she freefell, thoughts drowned out by the wind flying past her and the repetitive buzzing of the helicopter. Slayers Bailie and Satsu were not far behind, plummeting down towards the gray dot below. The dot rapidly grew more distinct, sharpening into the unmistakable pillars surrounding Warwickshire Castle.

Detaching the safety rope, Buffy hit the rooftop. More unhooking and thuds followed, telling her the other two kept up. The blonde slayer looked up at the helicopter, still hovering above.

Thank god for funding a quick travel fix. She thought. Even after two years using helicopters, it was still a strange feeling. Buffy went from barely getting out of one town to travelling across Europe in only a few short months.

"Situation secure, ma'am." Satsu's business-like voice spoke, drawing her attention. Just like Buffy, she was decked out in armor plate with a holster strapped to her side, and military combat boots. "I just got word from HQ. All the cameras are overridden."

Buffy glanced at the Japanese slayer. Satsu had been one of the first slayers they found after the destruction of Sunnydale. Even though she was born in Tokyo, she had spoken almost perfect English. After nearly three years, her accent was faint. Satsu had picked up on slayer instincts almost instantly and showed promise of leadership skills. Buffy couldn't deny she had become one of her favorites.

The blonde nodded solemnly. "Good. We don't need a giant, boily Cujo thing drawing anymore tourist attraction." Buffy turned her attention to her earpiece. "Xander. We just crash landed on the rooftop. You sure this is the place?"

"Yup. According to our resource team, Poriggo Hounds been having some murderous, doggy dog fun with the local tourists. Last one was seen going into the castle."

Always gotta look for attention. Buffy thought in displeasure. What was it with monsters and invading public places? A huge, hairless dog covered with boils snacking on the tourists was the last publicity from the supernatural world any of them needed. At least according the Satsu, the security was out of commission.

"How do we get inside?" Buffy asked.

"Should be a hatch below right in front of you." Xander told her.

Buffy looked around. On the far right, she found a steel handle jutting out of a wooden square. Securing her freeze blaster to her hip (yes, you heard that right; get a couple nerds and witches together and you'll find anything can happen), Buffy gestured to Bailie and Satsu. "Found it." She muttered, heading over.

As the blonde slayer bent down, Baillie sighed. "I haven't visited Warwickshire Castle since I was girl. Any chance we can stick around, snatch a few mementos?" The brunette asked hopefully, a wistfulness to her expression.

Buffy started to pry the hatch open. "The only 'memento' we're getting is demon goo. We need to high-tail and get the hell outta here." She answered briskly. She knew Baillie was British and this trip to England must've been nostalgic for her, but it couldn't be helped.

"Can't draw the attention. Poriggo Hounds have done enough of that." As usual, Buffy could count on Satsu to fill in the blanks and explain for her.

"Yeah, yeah." The other slayer relented, sounding a bit disappointed. She kneeled down beside Buffy, Satsu following suit. "Let's just put this bloody mutt down." She said, her green eyes hard with determination.

Baillie was a unique slayer in her own right as well. She was tall and slender, not as handy with a weapon as Satsu but definitely faster. Helped that she had been on a track team in college. Her hair was short and sleek, cut in an almost perfect straight line just above her shoulders. Her bangs were bowl-cut, but her sharply-angled face gave her a hardened profile.

"Okay, ladies. Time to for a quick in and out the rabbit hole." Buffy deadpanned.

Satsu pumped her freeze blaster. "Ready, ma'am."

I am never going to get used to hearing that. With that thought, Buffy leaped down the hatch legs first. It was a longer way down than anticipated, but she managed to land as noiselessly as possible into a hall. Satsu and Baillie followed, one of them thankfully closing the hatch as they went to make it look undisturbed.

The slayers kept to the shadows, maneuvering their way deep into the castle as quietly as their preternatural stealth could allow. Buffy knew immediately something was wrong when she saw not a single batch of tourists. The castle seemed entirely silent, betraying hardly any life. The quiet was nearly deafening.

"It's quiet." Baillie whispered, echoing her thoughts.

Buffy grimaced. "Too quiet."

They crossed many hallways and passed huge rooms. If it hadn't been such a serious situation, Buffy probably would've whipped out her camera and gawked like an idiot at the extravagance. Frankly, the castle was so huge Buffy doubted they had made it through nearly half. When they dived behind knight armor put on display without still seeing any human life, it was then their blonde "general" felt truly unsettled.

Satsu was peering out cautiously, biting her lip. "Can't see a single thing."

In true karma fashion, they hadn't gone any more than one more hallway when screams and inhuman snarls ripped through the air. The sudden change from eerie quiet to sounds of absolute terror and panic was so abrupt Buffy nearly lost all her careful composure. "Can definitely hear something though." She said grimly.

Baillie smiled at Satsu ruefully. "Just had to go and jinx it, eh Satsu?"

Their general in the lead, the slayers bolted to the mayhem. Buffy kicked open the wooden double-doors, pulling out her freeze blaster instantaneously. Four tourists were cowering as a monstrous Poriggo Hound closed in. It was nearly as tall as the ceiling and vaguely resembled a Rottweiler with mange. That is, if mange was at it's full term and instead of just skin, it was saturated with boils.

Acidic, lava-like slobbered dangled from it's jaws, pooling near it's paws as it made the air thick and more difficult to breath in. He snarled thunderously, it's huge paws nearly shaking the floor. The victims were helpless, screaming and either desperately trying to escape or getting caught up on the chaotic pandemonium.

Buffy's expression steeled. "Flank 'em."

Not sparing a glance at her subordinates, she charged. Buffy shot her freeze blaster, hitting the demon straight in the shoulder. The Porrigo swiveled it's body in a snarl. Baillie and Satsu were like her shadow, shooting their blasters as Buffy dived in front of the monster, snatching the tourist and rolling out of the way. Immediately the other tourists ran out, wailing and screaming in a wild crescendo that was only deafened by the blood pounding in the slayer's ears.

Buffy looked briefly at the person she saved: a middle-aged, slightly portly man. "T-T-T-that thing. I-It came out from the cellar. I-It ate this poor woman and k-killed ... I don't know what, how ...!" His hysteria tripped over his explanation, eyes frozen in wide-eyed terror behind her at the slayers assaulting the Porrigo.

Buffy shoved the man towards the doors, refusing to let his man's panic freeze him and make him stupid. "If you wanna live, get out of here." The blonde slayer said sharply.

The tourist was propelled to his feet, stumbling around but not losing his footing. Without any pause and only one wild-eyed stare at her over his shoulder, he ran out the room as if a thousand demons were on his tail.

Buffy thrust herself into the fight. She hit the demon dog powerfully in the side with the butt of her freeze blaster, dodging it's razor-sharp claws as it tried to lop her head off. Baillie clung onto it's back, her sword embedded deeply in and twisting for good measure. Buffy kicked it forcefully in the side. Satsu blasted the Poriggo across the face, earning a snarl of profound pain and rage as the ice canceled out the dangerous lava slobber the demon created. It shattered on the floor, completely ice.

The sudden influx of freeze blaster was not just a new toy for everyone to play with, though it had been easy for some slayers to get caught up in it's novelty. Porriggo Hounds had incredibly high body temperatures. They practically thrived on heat, the lava-like drool that would ooze out of their mouths another prime example of that. Exposure to ice weakened and even hurt them.

Baillie was stabbing the monster repeatedly in the back. The infuriated Porriggo tried to shake the British slayer off, but Baillie was tenacious and used her slayer strength for good measure, digging it in deeper.

Switching out her blaster with a sword, Buffy moved in and out, taking fluid strikes at the demon's sides and anything else before backing off only to continue the process all over again. The Poriggo Hound's movements were slowing. It was oozing green blood nearly all over the place and it's boiled skin was crisscrossed with wounds.

Satsu had a direct hit for a freeze blaster to the mouth, but acted too quickly. The monster's claws raked the Asian slayer's side in a blur. Satsu yelped in pain, losing her composure as she stumbled and grabbed her side in a moment of weakness. The Porrigo Hound lunged furiously, it's jaws of death heading towards the disoriented slayer.

"Satsu!"

Horrified, Buffy dived for her comrade. Sharp, stinging pain lanced somewhere as the blonde grabbed the other slayer and kicked the Porrigo Hound forcefully in the face. The demon whined in pain, unbalanced on it's paws and shaking it's head vigorously. Buffy and Satsu collided into the stone wall, the blow having enough power to knock the wind from them.

Blinking water from her eyes, the blonde slayer regrouped herself. "You okay?"

Satsu was looking at her general in a mixture of shame and guilt, but all she did was nod. The demon was soon trundling towards them despite Baillie's best efforts. Buffy and Satsu went back into the fight.

Buffy dodged another bout of snarling teeth yet again too close for comfort, realizing with an annoyed start that both her and Satsu lost their blasters and her sword somewhere during their last clash. The small blonde beat the demon off with a roundhouse kick, giving her just enough time to grab a jagged wood plank dislodged from the floor.

As Satsu found her freeze blaster and renewed her assault, Buffy dashed forward and stabbed the Poriggo with the plank, cutting clean through it's throat just as Baillie from her place on it's shoulders embedded her sword in it's neck. The demon howled deafeningly. It teetered, then fell to the floor dead, choking on it's own blood.

Buffy ripped out the plank, it's sharp end covered in green goo. "Porrigo, meet Dogwood." She deadpanned, twirling the piece of wood in her hands once before casually throwing it.

Baillie slid down the demon's body. "Good thing I'm more of a cat person."

Satsu stepped towards her hesitantly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am ... your arm ..." The Japanese slayer began. The blonde looked to where Satsu's eyes were directed at and saw a bloodied gash across the top of her right arm, tinged with purple around it. Instant alarm shot through Buffy, but after a more scrutinizing look she relaxed.

"Oh my god, Buffy. Did you get bit?!" Satsu blurted out in sudden panic before Buffy could say anything, grabbing her wrist for a better view.

Baillie's face went pale. "But Porrigo Hounds bites are fatal, aren't they?!"

"Guys—"

"I'm so sorry, Buffy! You got bit saving me, didn't you?" Satsu looked devastated, her brown eyes pools of guilt. "It's all my fault! I—"

"Hey! Not my funeral, people!" Buffy snapped at last, pulling her arm out of Satsu's grasp. "The poison only works it's way in through a deep bite. This one's barely a graze." She explained matter-of-factly. The blonde rubbed her gash gingerly. "Looks like some of you need to brush up on your demonology." She muttered.

Satsu still didn't seem comforted. "But I still could've done better. That could've killed you."

"You're one of the best slayers the Slayer Organization has, Satsu. Even the experts can make mistakes." Buffy said steadily.

Slayer Organization. Two years since the name for eight hundred slayers getting called was officially penned and it still felt unreal. It hadn't been overnight. The first year Buffy and her friends had spent it just gathering the new slayers, explaining to them who and what they were and how to control their power. Only five hundred slayers had been recruited by the end of that year. Eventually it expanded, finding more allies and resources, developing into a weird, pseudo-military operation somehow ending with Buffy as their commander.

Oh yeah. It was a far-cry from her small-town California days where all she had to do was hang out with the Scooby Gang and do a few nightly rounds patrolling.

Buffy stepped carefully around the debris, stopping at the foot of three bodies on the far side of the room. It was a woman and man, the man being badly mangled and the woman with her throat ripped out. While they had saved at least four tourists, they hadn't gotten here in time to save all of them.

She felt her slayers hovering behind her. Baillie was shaking her head, her fingers to her chin as she looked at the sight sadly. "At least we saved 'em from becoming puppy chow." The slender brunette offered weakly.

"Ma'am!"

"We're here for back-up!"

Stirred out of her thoughts, Buffy turned around. A squad of three more of her slayers—Leah, Rowena, and Tammy—were coming her way, geared up in their slayer armor and weapons (including freeze blasters), looking excited, ready to fight and filled with remarkable raw enthusiasm.

Satsu watched them with a slight frown, scratching the back of her head uncomfortably. "Sorry, guys. Fido's already put down."

Baillie managed to offer a smirk. "Rascally bugger. Shame you missed it."

Leah, a New Yorker and a tomboy, scowled. "Are you kidding? We've been looking to kill those sons-of-bitchin' mutts since Xander and Giles got info on their breeding grounds. They're damn near everywhere." She protested. Her short, dirty blonde hair was pulled back in pigtails, complemented by a bandana on her head.

"Good thing there isn't a shortage then. 'Cause I got a job for you to do." Buffy walked over to them, crossing her arms."Leah, Rowena, Tammy, I want your squad to patrol around the area. More than one of these Poriggoes have been lurking around here and I'd like it to be cleaned up." The blonde's green stare intensified. "More importantly, don't draw any more attention than you have to. You know why."

Solemnness gathered in her girls' faces. Truly, Buffy did not need to say why.

After a couple "Yes, ma'ams" and "We'll be right on it"s, her back-up squad turned and walked purposely away. Even with the urgency of the situation, she could sense how they eager were in testing their slater skills.

Good for them.

"What about us, ma'am?" Satsu asked.

Buffy turned around, her gaze sweeping over the last two expectant slayers thoughtfully. She supposed if she really wanted to, she could send them with the other unit to flush out the rest of the Poriggoes in England, but the blonde slayer still wasn't sure if she wanted to exert them more. She took one look on the wound on Satsu's side and made a decision.

"Baillie, go with the other unit for the Poriggo Hounds. Help them. Satsu, you're staying with me. You need a little more time on the mend." Buffy ordered evenly.

Baillie dipped her head politely. "Of course, ma'am."

While the British slayer made her way down the hallway, Satsu was looking at Buffy uncomfortably. She shook her head, doing a crossing gesture with her arms. "Ma'am, if this about that gash in my side, it's not bad. I heal just as fast as any slayer. I can still go out on a patrol if you want me—"

"I need you for something else." Buffy interrupted without faltering. "You're the one that's been out of the field the most when the Poriggo Hounds first went Mogwai on us. You know the terrain and you know where to find them. That's why I need you back at HQ. To help Xander and the rest of our resource team."

It wasn't a lie really. Satsu knew better than most of the new slayers to identify breeding spots of demons, nearly as well as fought them. However, Buffy could not risk throwing an injured slayer back in the game so soon. Maybe in a day or two, but not now. She was certain with the new set-up they had in technology and tracking, she'd be a great help while she recovered.

Satsu still looked a bit protesting, but after a moment clearly thought better of arguing with her general. She sighed. "Right, finding their breeding spots across the world. Got it down pat, ma'am." She replied reluctantly. Holding her wounded side gingerly, the Japanese slayer trudged over down hallway.

Buffy did not follow after. She watched distantly, a weight in her stomach. It was hard to imagine how she had ended up here, leading an army of slayers. While so many of these girls buzzed with purpose because of what she had done, to Buffy it felt as if it had been an act of someone else. Like she was watching a movie. None of it felt ... real.

Buffy sighed. Like everything in her life that didn't involve slaying monsters, she really didn't know what the hell she was doing. Leading an army of a nearly thousand girls? Becoming their general, a cuter and more charming Ellen Ripley? Really? How could she, in any capacity, know if she was even doing that right? It wasn't like she had a set standard to aim for.

Three years. Three years of gathering slayers, recruiting them, training them, and making a base of operations. At least two years of apocalyptic-free peace and you'd think it'd make the rest of that easier. It didn't. The worst part was even when she motivated these girls to fight and be strong in this, inside nothing felt right. Sudden searing pain stabbed her heart and Buffy's face crumbled, just for a moment.

No. Nothing was right at all.

With one last glance at the dead Poriggo Hound, Buffy sighed. "Home, sweet home." She said to herself tiredly, picking her way down the hallway.

~~Dean~~

Dean Winchester stood in the hallway, his arms half over the staircase railing as he overlooked the Men of Letters bunker. His mouth was set in a tense, grim line as he listened to the person talking on the phone. It was the information he had expected the minute he called yet somehow still got to him.

"So ... still nada on that demon tablet." Dean summed up after a beat, trying to sound casual.

"I've been working nonstop. Nothing's come out right." Kevin Tran's matter-of-fact, partially apologetic voice responded.

"Ah." The hunter answered lamely, keeping his reaction controlled. Dean took a moment to let that sink in. Finally the inconvenience got the better of him. "Really? Not even a squiggle?" He burst out, unable to keep out the impatience in his voice.

"I'm working on it." The prophet answered a bit tightly.

Dean couldn't fight back the disappointment. "Come on, man. You've been holed up in Garth's boat for what, a month by now? It's not like Crowley's still breathing over your shoulder." He argued incredulously.

"Yeah, and I still only have half of the tablet, remember?" Kevin replied pointedly.

The Winchester's eyes widened. He straightened, his entire body tensing. "Wait a minute. You're not saying ... you didn't lose the part on closing the Gates of Hell, did you?"

"I don't know. Haven't got that far to figure that out yet." Kevin answered honestly. "I'm just saying it's putting us behind schedule. Maybe messes up some of the translations."

"Awesome." Dean grumbled with a roll of his eyes, cursing every single thing in that last confrontation with Crowley that lead to that tablet splitting in two.

"I'll keep trying to translate. Hopefully something sticks." The prophet promised. "Should be easier this time. Garth's out of town so maybe I'll be able to focus."

The hunter paused only briefly, weighing if he should even say anything, but morbid curiosity won out. "Where's Garth?" Dean asked, certain there's a good chance he'd regret the question. The eccentric hunter, though technically their friend, was still hard to swallow at times.

"Started out saying something about a hunt, ended on going to a Rascal Flatts concert. I don't know." He recapped in disinterest.

Dean made a face at Rascal Flatts. Yep. Definitely regret that question. "Hey, you sure staying with Garth hasn't knocked a couple of your screws loose? Scuffing up that prophet edge? The guy's a little ... if you know what I mean." The Winchester said with a straight face, whistling the sound of a cuckoo clock as he did the crazy gesture.

"I can still do it." Kevin sounded unimpressed with his humor. Dean smirked. "I find anything, I'll call you. But no more pressure." He told him more meaningfully.

Sobering now, the hunter nodded. "Hit us up when you got it." He said simply.

Hanging up, Dean just stood by the railing, staring at the phone thoughtfully. He couldn't blame Kevin for still coming up empty. The kid was obviously trying and they were asking a lot from him. He still couldn't help but be irritated though. They had their one key of getting rid of these demons and not only was there no guarantee they even had the right information, they were making no progress at all.

Dean could not say he was renowned for his patience. He could say even less he was type to stand around and do nothing. We gotta do something. Can't be Kevin yet so it's gotta be us. He thought determinedly, expression hardening. Kevin wasn't going to be the one to carry all of them.

Pushing off the railing, Dean went downstairs. His brother Sam was sitting in the study, reading something on his laptop. He raised his head as he noticed Dean approach. "Hey. Anything from Kevin?"

Dean sat down in front of him with a sigh. "No dice. Kid's all strung out from half a tablet. Thinks it's affecting the translations."

"Affecting the translations?" Sam repeated, frowning. "You mean like, not having the know-how on closing the gates? Crowley has it?"

"Who the hell knows." His older brother said with feeling, shaking his head. "Tell you what we do know. If Crowley's got that piece, we ain't getting anywhere. So we gotta get it back." Dean reasoned firmly, the look on his face serious.

Sam scoffed, looking skeptical. "How? We don't even know where Crowley is."

"So, what? We're just supposed to sit here with our thumbs up our asses? Not happening." Dean said in disgust. He looked away thoughtfully, trying to think of a plan. "I say we go through his flunkies. Get those demonic Goombas to talk."

"Crowley's not easy to find, Dean. And his demons aren't easy to talk." His younger brother reminded him. At Dean's stubborn look, he sighed and shook his head. "Look, if you really want to do this, we will. I'm just saying they're not going to exactly be chatterboxes on the location on the friggin' King of Hell."

The older hunter shrugged. "Worth a shot."

Sam was right, of course. Most demons were too terrified of Crowley to even think of betraying him, let alone give away his location. But if there was really a chance the other half of tablet containing how to close the gates was with Crowley, then risking it was better.

Sam gave him one more skeptical look and shook his head again. "Alright. I'll start looking up demon signs. Black smoke, black eyes, whatever." He relented as he turned his attention back to his computer, a partially amused smile on his face.

Dean gave a pleased smile. "Now you got it."

The brothers went to work. Silence passed as they sifted through various articles. Dean typed up searches relating to any black smoke or people with black eyes caught on film, but nothing came up and anything that did was obviously faked. Like Sam had said, Crowley was not the type to let his demons be sloppy. If he didn't want to be found, he would make sure he wasn't.

Rolling his eyes, Dean typed up a different search. He was truly scrounging at this point. He scrolled through up and down carelessly, bored. Then Dean stopped abruptly. Carefully scrolling back, the Winchester found what he nearly missed: an article headlined 'Hurricane Dorian, London Still In Recovery'.

Morbidly curious, he pulled it up. "Hey, Sam, look at this." He called to his brother, not looking up. Dean read through it quickly. " 'Last year, Hurricane Dorian devastates London, causing about 90 million in damages and taking over a few thousand lives' ..." He leaned back in his chair as it sunk in. "Wow. Bet Nat Geo got their paws on that."

"Hurricane Dorian? Yeah." Sam agreed meaningfully. "That was all over the news for months. Poor people." He said sympathetically, shaking his head.

Dean studied his brother carefully. Does he really not know what this is? He wondered. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and looked at him seriously. "Sam, that was a demonic omen. You know, lightning storms, tornadoes, hurricanes. "I mean, I know you're a little rusty, but—"

"I know what it was, Dean." Sam responded, unfazed. His older brother stared in surprise. "A hurricane that bad, wasn't predicted, just popped up out of blue? Not even in Hurricane season? Yeah, Dean. Even a retired hunter can connect the dots." He explained matter-of-factly, an edge to his voice.

Catching the use of the word 'retired', Dean was in even more disbelief. "Wait. So, you knew about it when it happened?" He asked a bit incredulously. And you still went skipping back to that white-picket fence? Dean nearly had to bite his own tongue to keep the accusatory question to his thoughts.

Sam shrugged. "It was all the way in another country, Dean. I'm sure their own hunters took care of it."

"And you weren't worried? Like at all?" Dean pressed a little sharply. At Sam's frustrated look, he threw up his hands. "Hey, I'm not saying we're the Winchester Globe Trekkers. Just that you get a big-ass nasty like that cooked up, it travels. Could've meant something bad for us." He explained reasonably.

Sam was tense. "It didn't."

"We know that?" Dean asked, his voice calm but his look meaningful.

"Nothing happened, Dean! There was no more omens, and ... and life went on like it was." He replied defensively. He let out a breath to calm himself. "Look. You were in a Purgatory, I took a year off. And I get it, there were a lot of things I should've done back then ... but looking into that wasn't one of them." Sam said, his face hard.

Right, except the off-chance we're speed-starting into another apocalypse! Dean thought, once again angry at his brother's blasé attitude. There was never just one demonic omen after one that deadly. He still remembered the unending lighting storm and tornado count in the years leading up to Lucifer springing out of his cage. Don't even get him started on how bad it was after.

Hold on, hold on ... you're judging. You promised yourself you wouldn't after that whole Amelia thing. Come on. Don't be a dick. Dean caught himself, trying to erode away his disapproval. His brother sacrificed any chance of a normal life with Amelia to be beside him and devote everything to closing these gates. Dean respected that and felt for him. Underneath it all, he really did. Sam had messed up that year a lot no question, but that was supposed to be behind them. Even though he didn't look for him in Purgatory—

Don't. Be. A. Dick. Dean thought again with more force, attempting to silence his traitorous feelings. He was not going to think about Purgatory or how Sam hadn't even looked for him. That was No-man's land. It would completely wreck his new understanding, "let it die" approach.

"I would've looked into it." Dean stated simply with a shrug. Close enough.

Sam looked at him, several shades of defeat and frustration. He sighed and just turned back to his laptop. "Here. There's been dead bodies all across Novi, Michigan. There's a gang causing trouble. A witnesses claims she saw one of them with black eyes." He explained wearily.

Instant interest sparked in Dean. "A demon paling around with a bunch of Mickey Cobras?"

His younger brother shrugged, throwing out one hand. "Hey, y'know, if it takes us to Crowley ..."

"Then we're going Gangland." Dean finished, slapping his hand on his thigh in motivation. There was no guarantee they would find Crowley at the end of this, but it was still better than letting Kevin do all the work.

That demonic omen still concerned him, all the way across the world or not. He couldn't be sure what it meant, but what he was sure of was that a plan to get closer to Crowley and shutting down these gates was never bad. Dean justified he'll just worry about that omen later.

Shaking the thought off quickly, he shut down his laptop and stood up. "Alright. Let's go take a drive to Michigan."

"What about Cas?" Sam asked. Dean stiffened. "If we do find Crowley, he'd want to be there."

"After the way he acted in that weird slice-and-dice of Alfie a couples weeks ago?" He reminded Sam, skeptical. Castiel had wanted to save that angel so bad yet killed him anyway. Didn't make sense then, didn't make sense now. Dean shook his head and looked away. "Something's off with him, man. We can't risk him botching this up too." He decided, regretful but firm.

It made him guilty, feeling as if he couldn't trust Castiel. They've been through so much together, including Purgatory. He was nearly as much of a brother to Dean as Sam was. However, deep down he knew he had to be smart. Cas was hiding something and he'd be damned if he let him let anything else go sideways. When you get a lead on Crowley, you don't get it back.

"We could use the back-up, Dean." Sam pressed, his expression meaningful.

Dean hesitated. Last time he helped get the demon tablet. Maybe we could use a do-over. He considered thoughtfully. Then again, he's also the reason the tablet split in the first place. Or he was there at least. Dean thought immediately after, struggling to piece together his conflicting feelings.

The older Winchester grimaced. Finding no good answer to this, he chose the closest one. "Look, if we do find Crowley, we'll give Cas a dial. Until then we stick to the Dynamic Duo. We're heading out." Dean answered decisively, giving his brother a stern look.

Sam nodded, appearing to understand that decision. As his brother got ready, Dean headed towards his room for his weapons. Damnit if Cas was a headache that wasn't going away any time soon, but at least with a job and prospect of flushing out Crowley's demon ass, things were starting to look a little brighter.

~~Buffy~~

Buffy watched blankly as the huge flatscreen computer on the wall lit up with a map of the globe. Red dots blemished several continents, some bunched together in close quarters. The smaller computers on both sides of her, connected to the larger one, soon had the same image. This room was meant for the resource team, but the seats were empty. They had went out for lunch.

"So Mirror-Mirror on the wall says Africa's got Poriggo love nests. Mostly Libya, Chad, and Algeria." Xander was recapping, holding his hands behind his back. He was dressed in a long-sleeved navy blue shirt and dark pants. "Oh, looks like India, Mexico, and Brazil too. Talk about Doggy tribbles." He said in disbelief, shaking his head.

Buffy, in one of the chairs and turned towards it, nodded. "These things are drawn to heat. Makes sense that's where they roost." She said, her hands holding her face under her chin. Catching where one of the dots were, her eyes widened. "Please don't me tell that's Iraq." She groaned.

Xander glanced at where she was looking, then back at her. "If I don't, can I get something out of it?" He quipped.

Buffy groaned again, dropping her hands and leaning back in her chair. "Great. That's—that's just great. Nothing like fighting giant mutts to top it all off by getting shot it." She grumbled moodily.

"Come on, Buff. In terrain like that, I bet these things try for the 'aim low' approach too." Her best friend looked back at the screen with a smile."These girls are doing great. Deploying non-stop across the globe, takin' out demons, mapping out the hotspots. One funky, well-oiled machine." He said in satisfaction.

"Yep. Funky and oily." The blonde agreed. In a way, she was proud of them too. All of them had come a long way from when they were recruited, including the surviving former potentials. A lot of them were dealing with being a slayer better than she ever had. Buffy looked over at Xander, smiling wryly. " Of course, we can thank one of their watchers for that."

Xander looked at her sharply. "Not a watcher. See, the term 'watcher' is reserved for uptight, tweed-jacketed Englishmen. I am not a watcher." The black-haired man clarified with feeling, pointing at her. He puffed out his chest and crossing his arms. "I'd like to think I'm too manly and have a little more finesse." He insisted lightly.

Buffy raised her brow. "Sure thing, Sergeant Fury."

Her best friend faltered. He gave her a long look. " ... You laugh now, but one of these days that's going to catch on." He said defensively, pointing at her with a meaningful look on his face.

"Hasn't for three years, Xand. I think you should stop trying." The blonde replied, amused.

Her friend scowled, crossing his arms. "Be that way, Miss-Crusher-and-Destroyer-of-Dreams." He huffed.

Buffy smiled. Xander had really turned around after the destruction of Sunnydale. As they gathered up the slayers, once recovering from Anya's death, he slowly ended up working his way up as a mentor role besides Giles. The hands-on approach was still Buffy's role of course, but he always gave advice in the field or out. He was even head of the new resource team. The girls really trusted him. Buffy had grown to depend on him more herself, almost as a right-hand man. Xander seemed happier now than he ever had in Sunnydale.

"So ... back to Poriggoes." The blonde went on, swiveling her chair back to the map. "Africa should probably be the first stop. It's loaded with them." She decided. "I guess if me and the girls need to work on our tan and dodge a couple lions, it could be worse."

"Thank god for Satsu. She scoped out a bunch of demon hangouts last time she visited. She's the one that pinned those Poriggo hotspots." Xander stated, impressed.

Buffy hummed agreement. "She's the best." It was not an understatement. At times it felt like she could lead the Slayer Organization herself someday ... and some days Buffy almost wanted her to. Peering back at the map, the slayer skimmed over the U.S side. Her face fell instantly. "Oh no."

"What is it, Buff?"

The blonde slayer's eyes were frozen to the screen, overcome by anxiety. "Those Porrigo Hounds ... they spread. Arizona, Florida, even some in California."

Xander instantly understood. He was silent, observing his friend carefully. "... Buffy, it's been nearly two years. I'm sure by now—"

Buffy silenced him with a shake of her head. "We can't go back there, Xander." She insisted with certainty, utterly dismayed. The blonde slayer looked up at her friend. "I can't—I won't put those girls at risk again." Buffy declared with intense feeling, green gaze serious.

There was a reason their base of operations wasn't in the U.S. After the utter destruction of Sunnydale, the government had started to get nosy. Turns out you can't blow up even a lifeless city without asking questions. Slowly but surely, the trail led to her and her slayers. Soon enough, they labeled the Slayer Organization a terrorist group and took every chance they could to hunt and track them down.

There had been no negotiations or plans of peace. The government refused to believe that her and her slayer army were there to help, not hurt. When Buffy looked back on it, even now she was left always feeling cold. She had done a good thing, calling the slayers to fight evil. Why did something so good turn into something so wrong?

For a long time, other than the sting of unfair spearheading and hate groups, they dealt with the government hate. They were never found, never caught, and continued their work low-key. Helped that Buffy had been all over the world at the time, recruiting more slayers. Andrew had even hired two slayers to be Buffy decoys, one of which had been in Rome and dating the Immortal. Everything had been okay ... until the day it wasn't.

Two years ago, Buffy and a group of twelve slayers arrived in Los Angeles. Given how much of the city had been decimated and lives taken, it had been a bad idea. They only knew how bad when the government found them. They were assaulted by troops, the intent to capture or kill them. They escaped without killing any of the military ... but it had cost the lives of seven slayers. And it was all her fault.

The blonde slayer closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the horrible memories. There had been other kinds of pain then. The worst kind. The guilt of the deaths of her slayers based on call she made on top of that had been a fresh kind of hell she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Buff ... " Xander's gentle voice and a hand on her shoulder stirred her. She opened her eyes to see her best friend's sympathetic face. "What happened in L.A. was a while back, and the government hasn't so much as peeped since. The coast is clear." At Buffy's pained look, he softened even more. "You gotta forgive yourself."

How? The slayer thought in distress. It had been her fault. Her call. She never should've went. The other side of her guilt came back with a vengeance and she almost crumbled then and there. Her insides twisted in knots, tugged back-and-forth towards each side and refusing to chose one permanently. It was pure torture.

"We don't know anything, Xander. Just because the cavalry hasn't stormed the castle yet doesn't mean we still aren't Public Enemy Number One. We can't risk it." Buffy said seriously.

She didn't want to say they were in hiding. Hiding made it sound so ... humiliating? Depressing really? What Buffy liked to tell herself: the U.S.'s borders were lined with an electric fence, they had already been on the outside, and it would be stupid to jump right into that fence. Somehow that description made her feel less like dirt.

"Well, you can't. I'm about the rest of 'em." Xander clarified, taking his hand off her shoulder. "Send in a group, doesn't have to be big. They keep it low-key, don't draw any attention, and we'll smoke out those things like it's going out of style. Which it is." He advised, unable to keep out a joke.

The slayer listened to her friend, torn. On any other given situation, she would do exactly that. But after what happened back in L.A ... "If the military go after them again, Xander ..." She began meaningfully, weary.

"You can't just leave the Poriggoes, Buffy. You know how fast they multiple. They'll kill thousands before they know what hit them." Her best friend insisted seriously. When the slayer didn't respond, he sighed and kneeled in front of her. "Buffy. I get it. That time in the L.A. ... a dark corner in your mind. The darkest. But you gotta get over it sometime." Xander's dark gaze firm. " ... There's no one else left to do this, Buffy."

No. There really isn't. The small blonde thought, miserable. She hated this. She hated endangering the slayers just because she called them. She hated the fact they'd been hunted down by the government and exiled to Europe for three years for no reason at all. She hated all of this, but what was left for her to do?

"... I'll send in a couple slayers to the states, sets of three for each." Buffy agreed at last, pushing away her reservations as best she could.

Xander stood up. "Now that's the way you chase a ravenous, evil force to the brink of extinction!" He remarked cheerily, swinging his arm.

The blonde smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was tired of Europe, of being hunted, of being associated with terrorism. She was just tired. Buffy missed the states. She missed California. She missed Sunnydale. All she wanted was to go home. Scotland wasn't home. To her, it was practically a prison.

" ... Do you ever miss it?" She said suddenly, her voice quiet.

Xander blinked. "What?"

Buffy raised her head, her arms crossed over her chest. "The old days. You, me, Wil, Giles ... back when it was a little less Saving Private Ryan, more Breakfast Club." She elaborated, looking at her friend intently.

"Ah. Pre-eye patch days." Xander declared, snapping his fingers in realization. "I don't know. Sometimes. The power of nostalgia." He looked wistful a moment, then snapped out of it with a shake of his head. "But really, at the end of the day what's there to miss? A hole in the ground?" He said pointedly, uncomprehending.

Buffy sighed. She couldn't say that answer surprised her. "Everything was so much more ... simpler." She answered tiredly, feeling very left out. Was she really the only one of her friends that was feeling the toll?

Xander shrugged. "Feels on the same bar to me. We're still here, kicking ass and taking names. We just got a bunch of new toys now." He reasoned casually. Her friend gestured to the room. "Look at this, Buffy. We live in a castle, running a girl power army and get to role-play S.H.I.E.L.D while we're at it. As far cool goes, that's at 'super' if you ask me."

"Cool even in getting hunted down by a government branch?" Buffy said flatly, giving him a look.

Xander paused. " ... That has novelty." He offered lamely with a nod. "I'm not saying it's perfect, Buff. But when in our lives has anything ever been? I can think of a few frolicking, mind-whirling adventures in Sunnydale to test for that." He said meaningfully. "What we're doing now is good. We're making a difference."

"And we didn't before?" The blonde slayer inquired, upset.

"Buffy." Xander began, patient but firm. "I'm not trying to derail all our Scooby Gang misadventures ... but it's different now. Back then, there was only one, sometimes two. Now you hear the pitter-patter of Chosen Ones everywhere. We cut down monsters faster than we ever did. Save more lives. And these girls ... they love it. You gave them a purpose. Every one of 'em. And not just them." Xander smiled. "Giles is a watcher again, Wil gets to travel, and me, I get to be Sergeant Fury. That blows the Sunnydale days out of the water."

Buffy wasn't comforted. "Then why don't I feel it? Everyone has purpose bells ringing in their heads ... so where's mine? I just feel so ..." Buffy broke off, knowing she was being too honest. Alone. She finished, shaking her head.

Buffy had thought she knew loneliness. That's all being the Slayer was. When all the trouble with The First went down, she figured she had finally gotten used to it. More slayers called should've eroded that away completely. Ironically, eventually it just made it worse. Being responsible for so many slayers ... too many to name ... it just got to her. The burden on her shoulders never lifted anymore, not even for a moment.

"You're just overworked." Xander told her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You need a breather. Maybe you should rest. Hopefully you'll sleep more than two hours this time." He advised pointedly, looking at her seriously.

The blonde slayer stood up. "I still need to issue out patrols for the Poriggo Hounds."

"That bird's already flied, Buff. They headed out on monster clean-up a while ago." The black-haired man informed, frowning at her. He shrugged. "Well, except for the states. I figured I needed to drill that one through Slaymaster General first."

"You mean they left without my orders?" The blonde slayer said incredulously, outraged.

Xander spread his arms out defensively, giving an expression of peace. "Whoa, Buff. It's just a couple patrols. Not trying to toe-step here. Besides, they're big girls now. Three years, still kicking. That's like a ten-year veteran in slayer years. Let them spread their wings."

Buffy let out a breath, trying to rein in her agitation. She didn't like this general deal, but she liked even less when she wasn't the one giving orders. At least Xander had the sense enough not to send them off to states yet. God, I would've killed him. He thought, shaking her head in disgust at the picture.

"Right. I guess I'll just ... organize the patrols heading out to the Mother Country." She relented a bit tensely, grimacing. She still hated any chance she was leaving them exposed to the military again, but the influx of Poriggo Hounds wasn't giving her much of a choice.

"Swell idea, after you rest." Though her best friend's tone was light, his expression was serious.

"I'm fine, Xander." She insisted impatiently, rolling her eyes.

Xander was not fazed. "Buff, you're practically dead on your feet. You've been working on fumes all week." He pointed out sternly, his expression hard. "Two hours every night and drowning yourself in caffeine doesn't mix well with demon-fighting and leading an army."

Buffy was about to argue, then stopped herself. Grogginess clouded the edges of her consciousness, making her feel light-headed. Her whole body seemed heavy, as if it was too much effort to put one foot in front of the other anymore. But her mind was too restless, preoccupied with slayers and now this demon epidemic. Problem was, Xander was right. She couldn't lead an army when she could barely even think straight.

Sighing, she relaxed her posture. "I know. Nap time for Buffy definitely on the to-do list. I've just been so ... stressed." She admitted reluctantly, uncomfortable. Wasn't that an understatement.

"That's why we love you, you little stress ball you." Xander joked, hitting her shoulder playfully.

The blonde slayer smiled. "Glad I can still entertain." She said dryly, rolling her eyes. As she walked past Xander, she glanced back at him. "Don't send out any slayers yet to the states until I wake up. I want to chose them personally." She said with seriousness.

"You got it."

Buffy walked past him out of the room, her thoughts churned restlessly. Maybe Xander was right. Maybe that cut-off feeling lately was just stress and her overworking herself. It was a nice thought, at least. So why did she still feel like it was something different altogether?

~~Dean~~

Dean and Sam walked down the steps, leaving behind a decent, suburban home. Both were dressed in FBI attire, done getting information from another witness. It turned out the new "gang" Novi, Michigan was not your typical gang. It did a lot more than just vandalism.

"We talked to all the family members. They all said the same thing. Perfectly apple pie normal, role model citizens. They spazzed out, obsessive, and then weird." Dean summed up. "Definitely demons. Sulfur was littered in every one of their homes."

Sam nodded. "Then they stopped coming home, ran off to their new team." They reached the Impala, walking to their sides of the car. "But's with all this 'out in the open' crap? A demon gang? I mean, since when is Crowley this obvious?" His little brother voiced incredulously with a frown, throwing out one hand.

"Looks like the douche is losing his edge." The older Winchester found that weird also. Crowley knew how to stay hidden. If anything, it made more sense to believe these demons were acting on their own. But that wasn't what was happening here either. While sloppy, something about this was ... systematic.

"Or he's desperate." Sam answered thoughtfully. "And by the way, the holes? At least three of the suspects went out of the middle of the night and just started digging, ten feet down straight." The taller Winchester recalled, frowning. "There's something going on here, Dean."

"It's Crowley. He's after something. Gotta be." Dean replied with certainty, nodding for emphasis.

"Like what?"

His older brother thought briefly, then gave a small shrug. "Nothing good." He replied grimly, opening the car door. "We still gotta a few more people to go. Maybe it'll piece the rest of this together." Dean stated, sitting down in the front seat. Sam followed closely on the passenger side.

The rest of the investigation went by with little change. The storie of the remaining relatives to the suspects consisted of mostly the same lines: didn't have any criminal record to speak of, changed in behavior, and started suddenly digging. Sulfur was in their houses also. One woman admitted she thought she saw her sister with black eyes. Things started to turn around a bit when one of them reported his brother hanging around city graveyards. Still, with no clear connection, Sam and Dean didn't have much to go on.

Towards the end of the day, Sam and Dean were approaching their last house. Dean fully expected to be disappointed, return to their motel, and spend the rest of the night with Sam trying to piece together a whole lot of nothing. When they were within three meters from the doorway, the blood-curdling scream of a woman from inside punctured the air.

Immediately on the alert, the brothers sprinted towards the house. Dean kicked the door with as much strength as he could, busting it open and instinctively drawing his gun. Sam was right at his shoulder, his own gun aimed. The woman Gloria Tillman (their next interview) was dead on the floor in her living room, her neck snapped.

Three people turned towards them slowly. Their eyes flashed black when they looked at them, recognition and hate emanating from their dark depths.

"It's the Winchesters." A bald one growled to his companions, disgust in his tone. Given his posture and his proximity to Gloria's body, it indicted he was the one who had killed the poor woman.

Dean slowly lowered his gun. "Well, well. Just who we've been looking for." He drawled, smirking.

"Nice job, getting us here. The murders, sticking to one town, the digging. Lead us directly to you." Sam answered condescendingly, looking them over with a hard green gaze. "Sure Crowley won't get you demoted for that?" He said glibly, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

The demons looked at each other, meaning passing between them. One of them, a petite bleached blonde, looked back with a glare. "Sorry, Hardy Boys. We don't have room for play time."

The older Winchester put away his gun. "Well, better pencil us in. See, me and Sam ... we gotta a few questions." Dean began in mock casualness, pulling out his demon knife. The demons tensed. "Too bad we only need one of you dicks." He added more meaningfully, twisting his knife in his hand.

Fury spread to the demons' faces and they charged.

The petite blonde tried to punch Dean, but he blocked it and threw a hard one straight across her face. He went in with the knife, but she beat him back with a knee to the stomach. Pain at the superior power to the blow lanced through him, allowing one of the male demons to strangle him from behind.

Dean struggled to breath, still managing to hold on to his knife. Angry, he reacted quickly. He kicked the blonde demon away, sending her sprawling into the coffee table and breaking it on landing. Ignoring his lack of oxygen, he fished for the holy water in his jacket pocket and threw it directly up into the bald demon's face.

The demon yelled in furious plan, his face burning. Dean yanked his arm away and stabbed him directly in the stomach, killing him instantly. Not far away, Sam was battling the third demon, but was holding his own and looked very close to killing him. Dean turned his attention to the blonde demon, now standing in front of him.

Her blue eyes gleamed with promise. "I can't wait to see the look on Crowley's face when I say I killed the Winchesters."

Before Dean could respond, she lunged. Dean dodged her knife and a couple blows, then retaliated with his own knife. It grazed her palm and the demon groaned, backing off briefly and holding her hand. The Winchester knocked her knife out of her hand and threw her over another table. Sam, having finished off his demon, was rushing over with iron handcuffs.

Not giving her a chance to get up, Dean pinned her down with one boot on her back. Taking the handcuffs from Sam, he cuffed her as he quickly as he could. "You ain't getting Employee of the Month, bitch." He told her.

"We gotta get her tied up." Sam said.

"You son of bitches!" The demon cursed furiously.

"Shut up." Dean said curtly, forcing her roughly to her feet and shoving her in front of him towards the kitchen. Sam followed with his supply of rope.

In a couple minutes, the blonde demon was tied and hand-cuffed securely to a dining room chair in the living room. She struggled against her hand-cuffs, twitching in pain and sweaty from the chafing iron. The brothers loomed over her, prepped for interrogation. The blonde glared at them through black eyes.

"Talk." Sam ordered sharply.

The demon scowled fractionally. "Racist. A couple of demons can't just patronize a city?"

Rolling his eyes at the obvious stall, Dean doused her with holy water. She screamed, steam coming off body. "The so-called gang you have going, possessing people not even with a blemish on their attendance record. What's with the demonic Sons of Anarchy?" He prompted impatiently.

The blonde demon said nothing, tense and angry. Sam took it from there. "You've been digging at night, trying to find something. What?"

She paused, wearing an unreadable expression on her face. "Bite me." She spat, tone thick with disgust.

Sam and Dean advanced on the demon. Dean stabbed her in the hand with his knife the same time his little brother poured large amounts of holy water. Another yell of pain pierced the air. Dean leaned down threateningly. "Talk!" He shouted in her face.

The blonde demon coughed, trembling. "It's top-secret. He'll kill me." She choked out.

"Oh, you're dead either way." The older Winchester responded in brutal simplicity. Dean never understood why these demons made it so difficult to get information. There was no hope for them the second they got caught, whether by their hands or Crowley's.

"Crowley finds you, he'll make sure your death lasts. At least with us, we'll make it quick." Sam reasoned matter-of-factly, looking just as uncompromising as his brother.

The demon paused, still shaking. She glared up at them furiously, her insolence obvious. Tired of how long this was taking, Dean twisted the blade in her hand. She screeched. "Alright, alright! Crowley ... this was all assigned by him. We thought it was underground, but it turned out it's in the graveyards." The blonde demon gave in at last, her breathing jagged.

"What is?" Dean pressed intently.

"I don't know. The three of us had just arrived here, he wouldn't tell us." She explained wearily. Dean, not buying that for a second, twisted the knife more violently. The blonde cried out deafeningly. "I don't know! I swear! He doesn't tell all of us everything. Only the best. He doesn't trust us." The demon confessed desperately, near-piteous.

Hmm. Wonder why. He thought sarcastically, taking in the fact of how much she confessed when backed in a corner.

"The only thing I know is that we were supposed to meet up with the others later at the Oakland Mausoleum. Whatever it is, it's supposed to be there. That's all." The blonde demon finished, even in her weak state still glaring defiant blue eyes.

"And what about Gloria Tillman? Why'd you kill her?" Sam asked pointedly.

The demon's face was hard. "She got in the way. One of the meatsuits my friend was wearing was her hubby. She started hassling us so we had to remove the problem to cover our trail." She explained in no uncertain terms. She managed a smirk. "It was fun."

"You son of a bitch." Dean remarked, shaking his head in disgust. God, he hated demons.

The blonde demon smirked, but soon enough sobered. "We were supposed to be meet with the others at Oakland. That's all I know." She insisted in emphasis.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. Looking back at the captive demon one last time in distaste, the older Winchester pulled out the demon knife and stepped back. On cue, Sam pierced the blonde demon in the chest with his angel blade. She made one final gasp before her head drooped limply.

"Oakland Mausoleum?" Sam said, looking at his older brother questioningly.

Flipping his knife, Dean put it securely back in his jacket. "Looks like we got a date to catch."

~~Buffy~~

"This is ridiculous, Xander." Buffy grumbled, her arms crossed as she stared down the medieval door. She was devoid of slayer armor now, dressed in her casual wear of a pink tank top under a gray jean jacket, black jeans, and grayish-brown combat boots. Irritation crawled over her skin. She did not want to be here.

Her best friend hovered close behind her, his expression tired. "Buff ... you gotta talk to Dawn. Sister talk. Y'know, the lovey-dovey talk, not the spitting-and-clawing, hair-pulling talk."

"Spitting and clawing is the only way we know how to talk." She remarked sharply. At least lately. She thought with more discomfort.

Every since the destruction of Sunnydale, things have been tense between her and Dawn. There had been moments over the course of the three years that had sparks of their former closeness between the rockiness. Unfortunately, this was one of the bad patches.

"Correct. Ergo intervention." Xander said lightly, pushing her towards the door.

Buffy resisted, pivoting on her heel and whirling around to face him. "Giles is doing a training session with the slayers. I need to be there." The blonde argued stubbornly.

"Giles has been perfecting hoops for slayers before he even met us. The guy's watcher concentrate. He can run the show without you." Her friend answered calmly. At Buffy's frustrated look, Xander became more serious. "She's your sister, Buffy. Believe it or not, you're not the only one having a tough time at Camp Slayer."

"Seems to me everyone else is just walking on air." Buffy muttered.

"Maybe it wouldn't, if you actually listened to her." Xander shot back sternly.

Repressed guilt started to worm it's way into the slayer. She sighed tiredly. "I've tried, Xander. She never listens! She doesn't get it. And then she turns on her 'Whine Mode' and just whines and whines and whines before ending eloquently on the Buffy Blame Game. Which happens every time." Buffy explained in hurt frustration. "Sorry if I don't feel like watching re-runs of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Dawn. I got better things to do."

Xander gave her a long look. " ... You know that thing you do when you give up, cut people out, and put on your judgy goggles? You're doing that thing." He said matter-of-factly, his expression meaningful.

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not ..." She tried to deny, breaking herself off when realized his point. Weariness sunk into her bones. She looked away. "Dawn ... she just shuts me out. Whatever's bugging her, she won't tell me. Maybe when Willow gets back—"

"Buff. We all know Dawn's got some serious communication issues ... but it's looking to me like that runs in the family." Buffy glanced tensely at Xander's serious face, catching the meaning. "It takes two to tango and two to miscommunicate."

Buffy said nothing, feeling more and more guilty. Everything was just so complicated! She was always organizing the slayers and most of the time when she did try to talk to her sister, Dawn completely shut her out. Or maybe they shut each other out. Either way, Dawn talked more to Willow now than she did to her. A fact that, as much as she loved the red-headed witch, Buffy couldn't help but resent.

The slayer lowered her eyes. " ... She won't talk to me. Besides, she probably doesn't even want to see me." She said wearily, her own words stinging with hurt and disappointment.

"Of course she does." Xander insisted, completely matter-of-fact.

The blonde slayer said nothing, unable to hold back her doubt. She missed their closeness more than she could stand. After everything with the Slayer Organization and the constant stress, Dawn kept her anchored. In a time when Buffy felt so very alone, she couldn't bear to lose her sister. But she didn't know what to say to her or how to say it. Avoiding Dawn was only ever her just avoiding a fight. She was tired of fighting.

"I already told Dawn before. Things are different. If Dawn still can't wrap her head around that, then that's her thing not mine." Buffy reasoned, her brisk tone not matching the regret in her heart. "I have the Slayer Organization to worry about ... I have to lead them."

"Or you could be a sister." Her best friend stated, an edge to his voice.

Those five words, so short and simple, cut Buffy right to core. Shame, hurt, and a bunch of other mixed feelings rained down on her. She wasn't a sister anymore? Had the distance leading the Slayer Organization sprung up in her gotten that bad these past three years? The slayer gave a pained frowned. Was that even a question?

Maybe Xander was right. Maybe she was being too hard on Dawn.

Xander's so stupid when he's right. The blonde couldn't help herself, not sure how to feel. Buffy glanced behind her towards Dawn's bedroom, then back at Xander. Her friend nodded. While she was ninety-nine point nine nine percent certain this was a terrible idea and would only end in a catfight, Buffy sighed and rapped on the door.

"What?" Dawn's muffled voice answered.

Her older sister drew in a breath. "Dawn, it's Buffy. I just wanna talk." Immediately the blonde slayer nearly winced. 'I just want to talk?' Could she sound more lame?

There was a pause. Buffy braced herself for a rejection. " ... Come in." Her sister sounded grudging, but not non-compliant.

Buffy opened the door. Dawn moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Her younger sister just stared at her a moment, expression tense. The blonde slayer closed the door behind them, trying to think of something to say. As usual, when she couldn't, she went to her default.

"Did I interrupt Moping Beauty?" Buffy quipped.

She meant that to be a joke, but instant irritation flashed over Dawn's face. "Ha-ha." The brunette said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Is Willow back yet?" She asked almost desperately, hope flooding her eyes.

Right. Your new big sis. Buffy reflected, unable to staunch the hurt feeling. Not that this hadn't been exactly what she expected. "No." She responded as she walked over towards Dawn, ignoring the pangs of envy.

Dawn looked disappointed a moment, then refocused on her more suspiciously. She crossed her arms, looking at Buffy through narrowed eyes. "So? What do you want?" She asked warily. Before she could say anything, her sister beat her to it. "Do I need to do another weapons run for your slayers again?"

Buffy did not miss the bitterness to Dawn's voice. Managing to keep a straight face, she crept closer. "Xander said ... you needed to talk." She began awkwardly, holding her hands in front of her.

Mixed emotions danced across Dawn, then she hardened. "I don't." She bit out, glaring.

Well, this is going swimmingly. The small slayer sucked in a calming breath. "Dawn ... I'm here. You got me here. If you got something you wanna get off your chest, get it off. " She prompted firmly. "Me performing my sisterly duty here." She added more pointedly, throwing out a hand.

"For once." Dawn muttered.

Buffy's anger flared. "Dawn ... I'm taking the precious minutes out of my very tight schedule to stand here and listen to you whine. I have a thousand better things to do. But I'm still standing here." She retorted sharply. "I'm trying to help. Now, if you wanna keep being a brat about it, be my guest. But I am not going to stay here and take it."

"Like I want spend my time listening to you, the World's Biggest Critic?" Her younger sister spat back, equal annoyance in her eyes.

"Okay, that's it." Buffy said angrily, doing a crossing gesture with her hands. "You wanna stay locked in your room feeling sorry for yourself, Emily Dickinson, plan out your own pity party. I'm gone." She declared hotly, already turning to walk away. She had so many better things to do. Buffy was not a counselor anymore and according to popular report, she had sucked at that job anyway.

If Dawn wanted to be miserable and blame everything on Buffy, that was her choice. Whenever her little sister decided to grow up, then she'd know where to find her.

"Go ahead, leave! You'd just blame me for everything anyway!" Dawn shot back bitterly.

That stopped Buffy. She turned around again, getting a better look at Dawn. Her little sister's body was turned away from her, peering at the blonde slayer through her hair in a searing glare. The frustration in the nineteen-year old was palpable.

"I do not blame you for everything." Buffy said in quiet force, her green gaze steady.

Dawn paused, lowering her head. " ... Yes, you do. You act like everything is my fault." She answered steely, but even the harshness in her voice couldn't block out the sadness. The young girl was genuinely distraught.

Buffy felt as if she had been punched in the gut. The blonde slayer knew she could be hard on Dawn, but it was usually for her own good. It had never been about blame, at least not completely. It pained her to see that her little sister could think of her so cruel.

But ... I never helped it. I rag on her all the time lately. Or ignore her altogether. This is my fault. She admitted guiltily. Xander was right. Buffy didn't know how to communicate. If anything, Dawn just learned from the best.

The blonde slayer walked over slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her little sister looked away. "Dawn ..." She began, putting her hand on shoulders and turning her towards her. Dawn didn't resist, but was still wary. "I'm your sister. If you have any problem, you can always tell me." Buffy brushed her hair out of her face, expression compassionate. "Now what's the matter?"

Dawn stared at her vulnerably. She lowered her eyes. She didn't say anything a moment. "I hate this place. Why did you have to chose Scotland? It's frickin' freezing here!" She muttered, her voice raising in complaint.

Buffy quirked an amused brow, unable to stop a smirk from coming. "Is that what all this is about?"

Her sister glowered slightly. "No. Everyone's always so busy. Most of you barely have time to even talk to me except Xander and Willow when she's here. But she's not here. Not lately." She admitted, bitterness in her voice. "And you never even really let me help! All your slayers go out and kill demons and vampires and I knew all that stuff before them but you still treat me like I'm grounded!" She ranted.

The blonde shook her head. "Slayers, Dawn. They're hard-wired against fighting the monster mashes."

"But Xander, Willow, and Giles aren't slayers!" Dawn retorted.

"Willow's a witch. Giles is book man and Xander's mostly our 'eyes only' guy." Buffy responded matter-of-factly. At her sister's obvious disgust and skepticism, she sighed and held Dawn's hands. "Dawnie ... I just don't want to see you get hurt." She said in all earnestness.

Buffy couldn't explain it. Something about Dawn going down the same path she did rubbed her the wrong way. By the time their mother passed and the close calls with Glory, the blonde slayer developed a natural panic reflex at Dawn doing any form of slaying. Buffy overcome it somewhat during the year with The First, but even now it was still a struggle to kick the habit.

"I'm nineteen! Stop treating me like I'm still a kid!" She said indignantly.

"You'll always be my little sister." Buffy answered, her green gaze fixed on her meaningfully. That was another weird truth. No matter how old Dawn got, she still remembered her as that snot-nosed fourteen-year old she risked her life, pride, morals, and even her own sanity to protect. Even now, Buffy just couldn't stop feeling like it was her job to protect her.

Some of her sister's indignation died. She sighed, pulling her hands out of her grasp and looking away. "I'm tired of Europe, Buffy. Don't get me wrong, it was cool at first ... but now I just want to go home." Dawn lamented, a distant look in her blue eyes.

The blonde slayer smiled ruefully. "What'dya know. We really are sisters."

"I should be back in Berkley right now. I was doing great. Straight A student, all these cool books in their library, a huge dorm, normal friends. Totally my element. I even almost had a boyfriend." Dawn went on wistfully. The longing soon melted off in a scowl. "But you guys pulled me out, send me all the way over here. Continuing the long and crappy tradition of Summers college dropouts."

Regret pulled at Buffy's heartstrings. "We had no choice, Dawn. The government was tailing us majorly then. They would've gotten to us through you. Who's to say what would've happened to you then?" She reminded her pointedly, sympathetic nonetheless.

Dawn paused. " ... Can't I just go back? I mean, it's been two years. They haven't done anything bad." She suggested hopefully, looking at her sister pleadingly.

Buffy hesitated. She understood how much Dawn missed California and wanted to return to Berkley University. What she wanted for her sister more than anything was to get a good education, not getting dragged down by the way her older sister's life was. Still, that ripple of unease left a knot in her stomach. The same kind about her slayers going back to states. Something about it just didn't feel right.

Buffy shook her head. "No."

"Why not?" Dawn said in dismay.

"It's not safe!" The small blonde answered, looking at her desperately. She just wished Dawn could understand. It was no different than what she had told Xander yesterday. It was just too soon to find the United States a safe haven again.

"But they haven't done anything!" The young brunette argued, her expression the epitome of confusion.

"Dawn, you're not going. That's final." Buffy replied in a hard tone, her stern gaze unyielding.

The brunette opened her mouth to argue, but the withering glare her older sister was shooting her stopped her before she could even try. She backed off, pouting in frustration and disapointment. " ... I still don't get why you didn't just open up a school or something. What would've been so terrorist-y about that?" She muttered.

Buffy's glare didn't waver. "Dawn ... we're not in Harry Potter."

Her sister looked offended, her blue eyes stretched wide innocently. "What? It would've worked!"

"Not in this lifetime." The blonde slayer muttered, rising off the bed. She turned to her sister. "Any more girly sister angst I need to know about? 'Cause I got a thing." Buffy told her pointedly, brisk again.

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "The slayers, right?"

"Giles is doing a free-for-all training session with the girls. I figure I should help with the hands-on before he talks their ears off or bores them to death." Buffy explained casually, unable to stop herself from poking fun at the man she had grown to regard as a father.

Her sister's more relaxed demeanor was changing. She scowled and lowered her head. "Squeezing in time for your new slayer sisters ... of course." Dawn said lowly.

The blonde slayer caught the tone instantly. Buffy narrowed her eyes, instant annoyance prickling under her skin. "Dawn ... we've been over this how many times. Kind of leading an army now, remember?" She told her sharply.

Dawn avoided her eyes. She was silent a moment. " ... I never see you anymore. You're always running around with them." She grumbled, sadness and bitterness in a voice.

"I don't have a choice." Buffy answered incredulously. "They need me to be in charge. I called them, I need to lead them." The blonde argued more passionately, her own frustration at that truth slipping in her tone. She threw out her arm. "There it is. Facts. You change the world, you need to do a little changing yourself. A lot of changing. And believe me, my hindsight hit 20/20 on that a long time ago."

Her little sister finally looked at her. "What about us, Buffy?" She argued, her blue eyes filled with meaning. "You get so caught up lately in your slayers, you don't even—"

Anger built up in the blonde. "Like I have a choice, Dawn!" She cut her off in a hard edge. "Did you miss the part about an army? A thousand slayers?" Buffy brought up pointedly, throwing out a hand. "I basically had to uproot my entire life. I don't have time. I don't have time for anything. I barely even have time to brush my teeth. Again, we go back to the hindsight-being-a-total-pain-in-the-ass analogy."

Mixed emotions were clashing across Dawn's face. "That's so totally wrong. What's the big? I mean, if you just dialed it down few a notches ... You act like you're still the only slayer!" She countered incredulously, shaking her head.

Buffy paused, carefully tucking away her emotions. " ... No, I'm not." She acknowledged solemnly, face impassive. "But I'm leading eight hundred of them." The blonde slayer declared, giving Dawn a meaningful look.

Her younger sister stood up, facing the slayer. "Buffy ... I get it, okay? You called a bunch of slayers, adopted them, and turned yourself into the sacrificial pack horse. I get it. I mean, that's just you." Dawn acknowledged matter-of-factly. "But I'm still your sister, Buffy! You never see me. And it'd be nice ... sometimes ... if you could just ... drag yourself away once in a while and actually be my sister."

Buffy said nothing, studying Dawn's beseeching face. Pain and regret sparked in the slayer. She missed her sister too, but it just wasn't that easy anymore. " ... I told you things would be different." The slayer said in quiet meaning, trying to get a grip on herself.

Dawn withdrew as if Buffy had struck her. "Really? That's ... that's all you're gonna say?" She responded in disbelief, hurt coloring her voice.

Buffy just looked at her sadly. She knew there were a thousand other things she could've said, but it'd either be redundant or lies. The blonde slayer loved Dawn more than she loved anything, but she had more responsibilities than just her now. She was stuck ... and she wasn't just talking about Dawn.

Dawn suddenly hardened. "Of course. You never listen to me, same as always. 'Poor, dumb, Dawn. She doesn't understand things.' " The young brunette retorted in marked bitterness. "God, what is wrong with you?! I don't know why I even talked to you!"

The blonde slayer tensed, sympathy forgotten as automatic anger and hurt pumped through her. There was the Buffy Blame Game, right on cue. "Y'know, I'm that one that should be asking that question. You know why I say you don't understand? Because you don't! You expect everyone to drop everything like the world revolves around you. Newflash, Dawn! That's the sun."

"That's rich, coming from Miss-Walks-Around-Like-She's-Better-Than-Everyone!" Dawn bit out with just as much ire, her glare twin balls of blue fire.

"Running this organization is my job now. Yeah, that crams into our sister-sister talking, but it crams into everything else too! It's called responsibilities, which you wouldn't know 'cause you never had them." Buffy fired out angrily, throwing out a hand. "This is the way things are gonna be. Get over it!"

Dawn crossed her arms, expression steel. " ... Sorry you had to see my face then." The young brunette said bitterly.

Buffy just watched her a moment, her green gaze spears of disapproval. She shook her head. "Grow up, Dawn." She said harshly.

Having been done with this conversation a long, long time ago, the blonde slayer turned on her heel and strode to the doorway. She didn't even cast a single glance at her sister when she opened the door, walked out, and slammed it shut behind her.

Buffy stood outside, her face twisted in a supreme scowl. Fury, frustration, disappointment, and a plethora of other emotions slammed down on her all at once like a tidal wave, overwhelming the blonde slayer as took a moment to try to come back from it.

Unfortunately she wasn't given much time.

Xander appeared from one of the hallways. "So. How'd it go? You and Dawnie make up in tears, hugs, and sudsy words in good chick flick fashion?" He prompted cheerily as he walked over, clapping his hands together. Clearly he had skulked around the room waiting to see the fruits of his labor.

Aggravation marred her worse. Her best friend slowed, his pep rapidly disappearing as he caught the hard and annoyed look on her face. He slowed and finally stopped in front of her, his expression falling. She glared at Xander, the conversation with Dawn still too fresh before making a move to walk away.

"Buff ..." He called just as the slayer was about to walk past him.

Buffy stopped and after a moment grudgingly raised her head. Xander was looking at her questioningly. "Xander. Next time you push for a little Buffy and Dawn sister time ..." She began casually, a forced smile on her face. "Don't." Buffy's smile fell off, glaring at her best friend in flinty warning.

Before another word could come out of Xander's mouth, Buffy turned and stalked down the hallway.

The blonde slayer traveled the castle blindly, her mood dark and angry. Dawn never failed to be a complete and total pain. Buffy had tried, really tried this time to understand Dawn and not see everything through her "judgy goggles" (Xander's words, not hers). She hadn't up and left the second she started complaining, which deserved credit in itself. Dawn couldn't even try to acknowledge that?

Dawn's inability to tolerate "sharing" Buffy with the other slayers was the worst part. Dawn was lonely and missed her sister. That Buffy could understand. What she could not understand was how Dawn couldn't see the big picture. It was all black-and-white to her. If Buffy spent more time with her, they were sisters. If Buffy worked too much with the slayers, she was punishing her.

God, she's so childish! Like I'm trying to drop her off at a fire station and disown my own sister. Doesn't she know me better than that?! The blonde slayer thought, insulted after everything she's done for her. That had really hurt, what Dawn said. That Buffy blamed her for everything. Buffy knew she was no role model as far as being a big sister went ... but she still tried the best she could.

Dawn just couldn't get it. It wasn't about ignoring her for the slayers. It was about her job. That always came first, even over Dawn. If Dawn just got a maturity boost overnight, she'd realize Buffy was just as miserable with the arrangement as she was.

Buffy's resentment grew. Besides the blaming comment, that stung most of all. Her little sister was completely out of touch with Buffy's feelings and misinterpreted everything she felt. How dare Dawn act like she was the only person suffering? Ignore just how much Buffy was sacrificing of herself, how hard she was trying to keep it together?

If Dawn was in my shoes, even for just a day, ... she would've wished she never said that. Buffy thought with certainty. But Dawn couldn't understand, just like everyone else. They weren't the ones in charge of an army, having everyone depend on them and then having no time left for yourself.

The blonde sighed, her hand running along the wall as she walked down the stone staircase. She was already starting to regret how she treated Dawn. It couldn't be her sister's complete fault she couldn't understand how she felt. After all, Buffy was the one that pushed her away. No matter how busy she was, this whole misunderstanding erupted because she never tried to sit down and really talk to Dawn. Even now, could she say she couldn't have done better?

I was too hard on her. Again. Buffy acknowledged guiltily, pouting. If she just understood what I was going through, my deal with the slayers instead of being a spoiled brat, I would've ... and I'm doing it again, aren't I? Discomfort shot through her as her train of thought fell once again into the land of resentment.

Yep. Buffy's old "give up, cut off, and judge" routine. She could hear Xander's voice in her head already.

"God, I suck." Buffy muttered. Like she had any hope of patching things up when Dawn when she kept holding grudges and feeling sorry for herself. Had she always been this bad?

It wasn't until sounds of voices and weapons clashing together did Buffy finally realize where her feet had taken her. Refocusing, the small slayer saw a wooden door leading towards the outside where the noises were coming from. Finishing the last set of steps, Buffy pushed the door and emerged out.

A hoard of slayers, somewhere around two hundred, filled up the open grass field. The girls sparred, human flurries of kicking, punching, and slashing with their wooden swords (That was a new rule; actual weapons had been allowed the first year, hoping it would give them more of an 'experience' feel. Let's just say that had been quickly scrapped after one particularly fateful accident with an axe). Buffy watched without interfering, a small smile on her face.

A deafening horn blast sounded over the chaos. All the slayers stopped instantly, drawing back their weapons and untangling themselves from each other to look up. Buffy, already smiling wider, raised her head in that direction. She already knew who it was.

Giles was standing in his balcony, one arm held high with a horn in his hand and the other carrying a cup of tea. As the noise of the crowd started to die down, the watcher put the horn on a table. He overlooked the girls with a smile on his face.

"Excellent work, girls. I can see many of you've truly embraced your slayer instincts. More than I had hoped ... quite a few of you could even give Buffy Summers herself a rather impressive run for her money." Giles praised in crisp admiration.

Buffy, still unnoticed, quirked a brow.

Giles took a sip of his tea, pausing as he swept his gaze over them. " ... I noticed many of you broke into teams, mirroring each others' movements. You used each other to time just the right moment to strike." He remarked, tone hard to place. Confusion was visible in some of the slayers' faces. "A slayer, you see, ... she fights alone. Relies on only herself. The one and only constant in a world filled with unspeakable evil ..."

"Hey, guys." Buffy raised her voice, finally making her presence known as she picked her away to the front of the crowd. "I'm not interrupting something really depressing, am I?" She said lightly, a wry smirk on her face as she looked over the girls.

"Buffy." Giles greeted, smiling at her with fondness in his eyes. Buffy looked up, smiling back a moment, then quickly turned her attention to her slayers.

Buffy paused, suddenly serious. " ... A slayer does fight alone. No friends, no relationships ... no fun. Just you, the vampires, and the demons. Our only long-term anything is with the big bads and the nasties." Grabbing a extra wooden sword from one of the slayers, she threw out her hand. "All the fine, not-so-fine print of the handbook, ye Holy Slayer Bible." The blonde's gaze suddenly intensified. "I say to hell with the handbook. Never even read it."

The small slayer walked around them, flipping her sword. "Those rules were written by a bunch of doddering librarians who never raised their nose any more than an inch from a book." The blonde stopped and looked at them steadily. "So here's the New Testament. We don't fight alone. We fight besides each other. Count on them. Because we can. Because we have a choice. Slayers don't need solitude. They need friends. Family. 'Cause without that ... the bad side of this life catches up with you. And it can get really, really bad." Buffy said with feeling. "Old school watchers were idiots. They got their own girls killed. You study the past, you learn. Lesson learned."

Buffy stepped closer to the crowd. "There was always a Chosen One meant to save the world. Always expected by everyone else to eternally jump through some other person's hoops like their own personal showdog. Not anymore." The slayer stated fiercely. Buffy softened, compassion etching her features. "One may be the loneliest number ... but it's not one anymore."

The slayers stared in rapt attention. In sea of faces, their emotions were the same: hope, satisfaction, relief ... respect. Respect for her. And for that one moment ... seeing the looks on their faces ... Buffy found everything she had been through these three years up until now was worth it.

Giles nodded slowly, a smile on his face. " ... Yes. Slayers now are meant for teamwork and to share their burdens together. Well done, girls." He agreed admiringly, satisfied they had all passed his test. He glanced over at Buffy, looking as proud as any father.

Buffy smiled. "As much as I love a good group hug and waxing off a little 'sharing and caring' ... " She began light-heartedly, twisting her wooden sword around. "Let's see if you're as in-touch with your reflexes as you are team spirit."

The oldest slayer paused, searching the crowd thoughtfully for a good demonstration. "Satsu, Leah, and Baillie." She singled out, pointing towards each of them in the front row. " ... I invite you to kick my ass." She declared, casually inviting them with her arm.

The girls blinked, startled.

Buffy backed up from them a couple spaces, adjusting her grip on the wooden sword and holding it up. "Come on. Have at me." She said again, still just as light.

The slayers exchanged only one glance, then charged. Green eyes instantly narrowed in concentration, the blonde slayer blocked Leah's sword while narrowly dodging Baillie's attempted slash on her stomach. As Satsu came up on her other side, Buffy kicked Baillie away and jumped, using Leah's shoulders forcefully as a kickstart. Leah bowelled over, falling to the ground with the wind knocked out of her. In mid-air, she swept her leg with her whole body, directly at Satsu's head.

Satsu managed to duck so the general's leg hit air. Baillie, always the quickest, recovered with a blunt sway of her sword. The blonde slayer flipped on her feet, yanking Baillie's swords out of her hands, effortlessly turning it sideways and shoving Baillie away before using the hilt of the sword to hit Satsu in the face.

Buffy had just enough time to see Satsu stumble before pressure closed around her foot. It was Leah, on the ground with a vice-like grip. Unable to react in time, the blonde slayer was yanked down. Recovering, Buffy tried to kick and flip herself back up, but Satsu and Baillie were nothing if not advantageous. Baillie kicked her general in the side and within seconds, all three were in front of her, their wooden swords pointed close to her throat.

Buffy stared at them, surprised. She had never expected Leah to recover that quickly after the force she used on her. They're faster now ... thinking more out-of-the box. They're better fighters. You'd think being their general and with how much patrols she's been on them, she noticed their accelerating growth rate. Their teamwork for one, which had been a chaotic mess during the first year and not just for these three.

Okay. Time to turn it up a notch. Buffy decided, smirking a bit to herself.

"Better. Giles might not be too far off the mark on living up to my record ..." She drawled casually.

Buffy kicked Baillie's wooden sword out her hands and slid down, tripping her. As Baillie fell to the floor, the blonde slayer flipped back, pushing off the ground as Satsu and Leah attacked. Snatching another wooden sword from one of the slayers and balancing on another, Buffy drop-kicked Leah in the face while blocking Satsu's sword.

The oldest slayer retaliated against the Japanese slayer, sweeping her whole body and throwing it full speed into her. Satsu grunted, tumbling instantly and lost in a cloud of dust. When the dust cleared, Buffy was standing on Satsu with one boot on her back, her wooden sword still in hand as she watched Leah and Baillie on the ground.

The blonde smirked. " ... But experience always wins." She finished quirkily, watching in near-amusement as Leah and Baillie struggled to find their motor functions. Satsu especially seemed uncomfortable, still firmly being used as her doormat.

Knowing they desperately needed back shreds of their dignity, the blonde slayer went through the drill in her head. "Great job on the impromptu stuff. Improvising ... always a slaying do. Nice reflexes, better strategy. All very mondo impressive." Buffy assessed. "Still. Survey still ends in three dead slayers. You need work. Reaction time mostly."

Finally aware of groans of discomfort, Buffy self-consciously stepped off Satsu and helped her up. " ... You okay?" She asked awkwardly, frowning. She might've swung herself at the Japanese slayer with a little too much velocity.

Satsu shook her head, a hand on forehead. "Are there any bells ringing?"

Yikes. The blonde slayer thought, a bit guilty as she took in the obvious disorientation. "Sorry. Just ... walk it off. You'll be fine." Buffy told her, patting her on the back a moment as she tried to be reassuring.

She turned her attention back to the other slayers. "Keep up the practice a little while longer. You could always use it. Afterwards, hang out. Take a little break. The monsters aren't going anywhere. In couple hours, we head out. You all know the patrols you're on."

The slayers resumed their training. Buffy watched them quietly a moment, her better mood quickly dampening as she thought back to Dawn. Xander had probably gone to give her a shoulder to cry on, all the while to complaining to him about her. She couldn't help but wonder if her sister had gone back to hating her.

Regret and disappointment pierced her at the thought. So much for Xander's bright idea of "sister bonding".

The blonde slayer shook herself, willing away her concerns. Dawn was a problem that couldn't be solved. At least not now since she knew her sister well enough to know she was still fuming. I have all the time in the world to talk to Dawn. Besides ... I got bigger things to worry about.

~~Dean~~

Dean and Sam crept silently under the cover of night, venturing into the graveyard. The brothers snuck into the Oakland Mausoleum as soon as the sun went down, managing to make it past security cameras and climb the gate. The Impala was parked inconspicuously a few blocks, close enough for an escape. Neither hunters knew what to expect so they tried to stay hidden.

Time passed as they cased out at least half of the graveyard, investigating everything they could and not finding a single sign of demons. Dean considered fleetingly that the demon bitch had sent them to the wrong place, then remembered it matched up with the info they got on the graveyards being vandalized. Too specific. They gotta be heading here.

"Think we're walking into a trap?" Sam said lowly, glancing at his brother.

Dean scoffed. "Always."

"They might just not be here yet. It's not like the demon just handed out the rendezvous time." The brown-haired hunter mentioned thoughtfully. "We don't know what we're walking into. It could go either way."

The older Winchester shrugged. "Yeah, well. Fly trap or not, we ain't leaving until we know what they're up to." Dean stated seriously, refusing to be nervous. "We better keep casing the place out. If they haven't showed, we'll start setting traps."

The brothers continued on through the mausoleum, still on their guard and scanning every crevice. When there was still no demons, Dean started to get hopeful. If they were here before them, they would be able to place Devil's Traps and other types before the demons even knew what happened.

When they were in the very heart of the mausoleum, Sam's hand pulled on his shoulder with sudden urgency. "Dean." His brother's tone was tense as he nodded towards a mass of graves on the far right.

Dean stiffened and turned the direction he was looking, his hand already reaching for his demon knife in his faded green jacket. The hunter's guard broke, shock written on his face as he finally caught sight of it: bodies, scattered across the ground to being splayed on top of coffins.

Dean masked his emotions, switching his expression back to business as he glanced at Sam. They looked at each other tensely, then started forward. Sam and Dean approached the scene surely but cautiously, in uncertain territory now. Soon enough the brothers stopped, silent as they stared down at the bodies.

Now that he was closer, Dean got a better glimpse of the scene. The bodies were six people at least, and fresh. Coffins had been toppled over, backwards on the ground. Close by the coffins, the dirt had been disturbed. Huge, gaping holes replaced where the coffins had been, all except one. There was one hole not even a quarter of the others.

"The hell?" Dean said incredulously, crouching down low. He turned over one of the bodies, seeing a gaping wound in her stomach. He caught the pungent, yellowy powder. "Well. Looks like we found our Hellraiser gang." He deadpanned. And just lost our lead. Again. He thought, annoyed but resigned.

The oldest Winchester's gaze swept over the scene. "Look at this. Busted up coffins, holes dug in the ground ... they tore up this whole damn place. And for what? It can't be grave-robbing." Dean assessed in exasperation. He never understood Crowley's regular antics, let alone this. He shook his head, bitterly disappointed. "We got bupkis, Sammy."

When Sam didn't answer, Dean glanced behind him. "Sam?"

Sam didn't appear to be listening. His younger brother was crouched down a slight ways away from another body, wiping something off a gravestone. Dean came over, leaning over his shoulder for a better look. Sickly green ooze was on his fingers, the same kind on the gravestone. Instant disgust at the sight stabbed the older hunter.

"What is that, ectoplasm?" Dean said, his mouth curled incredulously. Wasn't ectoplasm supposed to be black?

His brother didn't react, rubbing the substance between his fingers. " ... It's sulfur." Sam answered, a pronounced frown on his face.

"What?" The older Winchester said in disbelief. If Sam had any funny bone in his body, Dean would've thought he was joking.

"Look, Dean." The brown-haired hunter prompted, showing him the ooze.

Dean studied it, eyes narrowing. All he saw for the longest moment was just a string of goo. Finally, he noticed it. Specks of yellow powder dotted inside the green substance all across, some in jumbled clumps. If he tried hard enough, he could even smell it's stench. It had been dulled down tremendously compared to the other samples.

"The hell is ..." Dean began, his expression the pinnacle of confusion.

"Yeah. Sulfur. Like straight, friggin' demonic sulfur." Sam punctured each word with meaning, just as incredulous as his brother. He looked back at it with frown, rubbing it between his fingers. "I mean, it's in some weird, Slimer substance, but ... it's sulfur, Dean."

"What kind of demon oozes green goo?" The older Winchester responded dubiously.

"Your guess is as good as mine." His younger brother told him with a shrug, giving him a rueful smile.

Dean took a moment to absorb all this. Overwhelmed, he shook his head and got up. "So. New monster? Mini-Blobs? Onionheads?" He listed, trying to be casual. Distaste surged forward at his own words and he closed his eyes briefly. "God, do not tell me Slime People. First of all, worst horror movie ever. I mean, we've seen a lot of weird crap, but a monster slime ball? That's our new thing?" He went on in disgust.

"It's not a slime monster, Dean. It's a demon." Sam insisted, a little irritated.

"Demons don't track green ooze." Dean shot back, his expression hardening.

"Not that we know of, but that doesn't mean it's not out there." His brother voiced reasonably. Dean gave him a look, but the other Winchester wasn't deterred. "Only way to explain the sulfur, Dean." Sam said matter-of-factly.

Dean stared at him, realizing the point. He rolled his eyes, putting his hand on his forehead. God, I need a beer. "Okay. So say this is a demon. Why'd a demon ice other demons? Weren't they on a job for Crowley?" He questioned skeptically. " 'Cause whatever came here definitely did killing. I mean, that's obvious."

Sam frowned. "Dunno, but they didn't get far. I mean, look at this place." His younger brother answered, gesturing to the holes, bodies, and disturbed coffins. "Whatever this demon was, whatever Crowley was after ... they obviously didn't want him to get it pretty damn badly." He noted with meaning.

"Hey, anything going crappy for Crowley and I'll break out the party shots. But we still don't know a single damn thing. What he's after, the digging, the coffins, any of it." The hunter said meaningfully, serious. "And now this friggin' ... whatever it is. Onionhead, demon, Blob ... " Each word came out increasingly annoyed. Finally he shook his heard and threw up his arms. "It just adds on to the crap, okay?! We're back on page one." Dean finished impatiently, looking away in irritation.

"Can't argue with you there." His brother said distractedly. He pulled out a small ziplock bag from his jacket, rubbing the green substance on his finger inside it. Dean watched, a slight frown on his face as the younger hunter took out his angel blade and started scraping the goo off the gravestone.

"What, you gonna put that in your Nerd Hall of Mysterious Substances?" Dean couldn't help himself, straight-faced.

"Shut up." Sam replied instantly, glowering a bit as he kept scraping. "I'm taking a sample. If we don't really know what this is from, maybe we'll know when we study it." He explained, transferring a decent amount on the tip of his angel blade into the plastic bag.

Dean shrugged. He could admit that wasn't too bad of any idea. Of course, he couldn't think of anything they faced that left behind things like this, but it was the one something out of this day he could live with.

~~Buffy~~

The blonde slayer knocked and waited, at the door to Giles' study. No response. Deciding to take a shot, Buffy opened it and poked her head inside curiously. Giles was sitting in the far corner, holding a magnifying glass over something. His desk was stacked books upon books, several of them opened beside him. Notes and papers were spread out, emphasizing the cluttered image. The watcher didn't even look up.

"Giles?"

Giles hummed something, still distracted. Finally he raised his head. "Oh, uh, yes, Buffy." He acknowledged at last, sounding embarrassed. He set down the magnifying glass. " Did you just come back from patrol?"

"No. W-well, not yet. Just sent the first few." The slayer replied off-handedly, walking over. She stopped in front of him, staring down at his desk with a frown. "You aren't cataloguing again, are you?"

"As it happens, no. Rather this."

Giles cleared away some of the papers on his desk. Between her watcher's hands was a medium-sized, rectangular-like slab of stone. Lines of markings were carved into it, but they were too faint for her to make out. It looked incredibly old and dusted around the edges, as if it had just been pulled out of the ground. Buffy stared at it blankly.

"Wow. A hunk of rock. Wish I had one." She deadpanned.

Her watcher looked slightly irritated. "This is an artifact, Buffy. A group of your girls sent it to me a couple months ago. It seems they uncovered it while doing a mission in Liverpool."

"Sure it wasn't Bedrock?" The blonde slayer quipped.

"Certain." Giles said dryly. He picked up the stone, brushing some of the dust off. "It seems to be encrypted with some form of ... text, I'm certain extinct since nothing I've thought of yet has achieved a proper translation. It appears very ... archaic." He elaborated thoughtfully, frowning.

Well, that explains a lot. For a while now Giles had been locking himself in his study for hours at time. Buffy hadn't minded, busy herself, but today the blonde's curiosity was roused. In the precious times she's been able to stop and chat with him lately, he had certainly seemed preoccupied. Turns out his inner watcher programming had awakened again.

"Ooh! A gift-wrapped relic written in ancient, dead languages." Buffy said in insincere cheer, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. "I thought your birthday was months ago." She added, her expression twisted in mock confusion.

The watcher stared at her, a displeased look on his face. "In the face of your unfettered glib and flippancy ... dare I say I'm boring you?" He responded in a flat tone.

The blonde slayer smiled fondly. At least Giles is the one that never changes. "So what's so special about this tablet?" Buffy asked as she crossed her arms, trying to be interested.

Giles' moodiness eased. "It was found in ruins, on the coast of Liverpool. By it's state and description of the girls, I'd say it's been underground well past thousands of years. But what's most curious is the language." The older man narrowed his eyes at the tablet. "In all my studying as a watcher, I can't say I know these hieroglyphics. It's ... an odd feeling, to say the least." Giles admitted, puzzled.

Buffy was surprised too. Giles knew many languages, even the extinct ones. For him to be stumped was a stumper for everyone else. The blonde repressed a sigh. "Okay, what is it this time? A prophecy, object of mass destruction, cursed artifact, object of mass destruction?" She listed off cynically, rolling her eyes.

"Well, i-it's hard to say. The translation is ... well, i-i-it's non-existent, at best. " Her watcher sounded more than a little uncomfortable. "All could fall in the realm of possibility, it could even in fact just be an ancient artifact from a lost civilization."

The blonde slayer stared at him, skeptical to her very core. " ... Giles. You do know our lives, right? Badness or the freaky. Never anything in between." Buffy stated seriously, completely matter-of-fact. Nothing normal never happened to them. Their luck proved that time and time again.

The older man studied her, his expression masked. " ... I think it's best it gets interpreted first before jumping to any grim conclusions." He said at last carefully.

Already jumped. The slayer thought, refusing to indulge in a false sense of security. Buffy hadn't stopped an apocalypse in three years. In her world, that was equivalent to ten. It was only a matter of time the next apocalypse rolled around and if it was taking this long, then it was going to be bad one. She could feel it in her bones.

"I'll continue decrypting the text. I may have to expand my resources and delve into a wider range of books ... but you are right about one thing, Buffy. If it does indeed turn out to be ominous, then it can't afford to be neglected."

The blonde slayer nodded. No matter how difficult this dead language was for him, she knew she always count on Giles' reliability. If it really did turn out to be an omen of another apocalypse, Giles would figure out with time to warn them. He always did.

"It's truly astounding. Two years ... and not a one with the world ending." The older man mentioned, a note of disbelief in his voice. "Funny how the threat of impending doom and destruction has become a norm to us." The watcher mused as he drank his tea, amused and tired at the same time.

"You kidding? I still wake up every day expecting the next Big Bad to pop up out of the bushes and hear 'It's the end of the world!'" Buffy said in total honesty. She kicked up her legs and crossed them on the uncluttered side of Giles' desk, shaking her head. "Gotta say, not the sabbatical I was expecting."

Giles nodded. "It is strange, isn't it?" He said thoughtfully. "Times have been, more or less, peaceful." He stated with a slight shrug. His tone was firm but still holding that natural disbelief. Like he still couldn't quite believe it.

Buffy didn't react, her mood darkening and becoming practically black as the words brought back memories. Memories she tried so hard to forget. " ... Not peaceful enough." The words were a ghost of a whisper, but the raw regret and sadness in heart was as loud and drowning as if she had screamed it.

Giles heard. His expression fell too, quiet a moment. " ... Ah, yes. The stand against Wolfram & Hart in Los Angeles." The watcher broke the silence, looking solemn. He hesitated, then, " ... Angel and Spike." Giles said with a touch of regret, the two words coming out in a small sigh.

The blonde slayer's lower lip wobbled, finally hearing the two names no one ever dared say since two years ago. It was only until later she found out about Angel's plan to infiltrate the evil law firm and destroy them from the inside. It had backfired spectacularly until the last act, where Angel and his crew fought against Wolfram & Hart. Their final battle. They saved the city and saved the world ... at the cost of their lives. And Buffy hadn't been there.

She still remembered the day she got the news like it was yesterday. Angel's son, Connor, had contacted her and told her about his father's death, along with the rest of the crew. Spike being alive had been a shock (not that it mattered, considering he had got himself killed again). For the first time the whole year, Buffy understood everything. Why they took over Wolfram & Hart, Angel's plan ... all of it. Buffy knew neither Angel or Spike would've preferred going out any other way.

Her absolute devastation had been hard to stand. Overcome with everything she knew, everything she was wrong about, and to have it thrown at her at once when it was already too late ... how Buffy had made it through that day or the days after that would forever remain a mystery to her. Those first six months had been her own personal hell. She couldn't break. She couldn't even find time to cry. She had the slayers to worry about. If Buffy let herself be too weak, she'd make rest of them weak too.

No one understood of course. Her friends had been sympathetic, but none of them were close to Angel and Spike or even particularly liked them. Even Dawn, who had once been so bonded with Spike, got over his death quick enough. Andrew had been upset over Spike, but it was obvious through the eccentric stories and the "advice" he told the slayers now he was dealing.

So Buffy did the only option left to her: keep up a strong face, keep it together, and above all never let her grief of losing the two vampires she had loved so much get in the way of who she needed to be. That was her promise to herself. Only ... that day ... she broke that promise.

Anguish pierced the blonde slayer and immediately came danger. No ... no. I'm not thinking about that. Not with Giles here. She thought, desperately trying to shake off her emotions. It was too much. That was the memory lane right now she just couldn't walk down.

Giles lowered his eyes, looking sad. "The choices Angel and Spike made that day ... were very noble. Selfless." The watcher began solemnly. "They deserved more credit than what they given. Far more from all of us, including myself." The older man admitted, shaking his head as a hint of remorse shown in his eyes.

" ... They died saving the world." Somehow out of her tormented thoughts that was the only one that came out. And I should've been there. Buffy thought with a heavy heart, unable to staunch the flow of guilt.

" ... Yes, they did." Giles agreed and that was all he said, a compassionate set to his features as he stared at her steadily. It was as if he intuitively understood every thought and feeling she was having, even though it's been two years since the fate of Angel and Spike had been known and Buffy had never said a word about it to anyone.

Silence passed between them. Buffy didn't dare break it, lost in her quiet misery. It was almost unreal to her how something that happened two years ago could still affect her so much. It was as if something in her had broken that day and no matter how hard she tried since, she just couldn't fix it.

"Whatever apocalypse may be next ... the odds won't be stacked against us the way they were. The way Angel, Spike, and the others died from." Giles stated suddenly. The blonde snapped out of her catatonic grief just enough to look at him. "There are slayers, all over the globe now. They get stronger and more resilient every day. Should another evil come, they'll be thwarted. That I'm certain of." The watcher declared strongly. His blue gaze intensified. "There is still hope, Buffy. Promise me no amount of tragedy will let you forget that."

Buffy was silent, staring into the face she had so long regarded as father. Deep love and appreciation for Giles sparked in her as she saw the optimism and sincerity in his eyes. She missed this. Missed talking to Giles like this. The way his words wrapped around her like a security blanket and for one moment anything seemed possible.

"... I won't." The blonde promised sincerely, her eyes tearing a bit. Watcher and slayer smiled, taking silent comfort from each other.

At last Buffy wiped her eyes. "And you're right. The slayers are getting stronger." She acknowledged. The small blonde swung her legs off the table and stood up, more serious now as she meet her watcher's eyes. "But they still need to be better." Buffy said firmly.

She held Giles' gaze for a second, then headed out without another word, leaving Giles to keep up his translation on the tablet. She ventured through the castle halls and passing some of her slayers before at some point ending up to the top corridors. Buffy shoved open the wooden door, revealing another small balcony.

Cold, Scottish hair hit her face as she stepped out. The plains in front of her were a wide, expanse of green fields. Not a living creature appeared on the fields, settling into an strange yet somehow peaceful quiet. The sun sunk low in the sky, turning it into a fiery orange. Faint clouds complimented it. Buffy leaned on the balcony, her arms resting on it as she overlooked the scenery. It was beautiful.

The beauty, however, couldn't quiet the slayer's stormy thoughts. Now that Angel and Spike had been uprooted from the darkest corners of her mind, they would not leave. Buffy had so many regrets between them, between both of them. Questions she never asked, things she never said, things she wished she never said. It physically hurt, going over the long list of things that could've ended differently between them if she had just tried harder. Now none of them would ever know.

Sometimes, when she was all alone, all Buffy could think about was how she wished she had been there with them in their final fight. Even if she had died too, at least she had set one thing with them right. She hadn't been there for them when they needed her most. Deep in her heart, Buffy felt like she had failed them. They had loved her, she knew, to their dying moments. When it was all said and done, what had she given them in return?

The blonde's stomach churned, knowing it never could've been that easy. What could she had done back then? She couldn't leave behind her slayers, especially then when they were still barely trained. Her duty needed to come first after all. She had forgotten that, for one day, and she'd never forgive herself for what happened. Ever since, Buffy was guilty feeling guilty over the vampires because it felt like a betrayal to her slayers. How could she consider leaving them for the vampires' sake when they were her responsibility?

Her heart grew heavier. It seemed everything L.A-related ended in heartache. In the case of Dana, the insane slayer Andrew had retrieved from there for example. Not even going in to the fact Buffy effectively felt crap and responsible for calling this poor girl who had so much trauma, to add insult to injury she disappeared, right in their care only a year ago. Buffy had searched and searched for her with the others slayers, but she was never found. Like she was wiped off the face of the Earth. Yet another thing she managed to screw up.

Buffy sighed. In a series of very bad patches in her still relatively short life, this one had to be one of the worst. Three years of isolation, repressing her emotions, keeping these slayer united—all of which at expense of her own relationships—was just too much. She was just tired, so tired. Tired of the sacrificing, tired of a whole new level of responsibility, all of it. She just wanted to be Buffy. She wanted her life back. She wanted to be a person again.

Yet again, the blonde wondered what the hell she thought she was doing. Her Slayer Organization had garnered bad press and been hunted, might even still be. She had gotten at least seven of her slayers killed. Dana was MIA. Buffy ruined her own sister's chances of a normal life by taking her out of college and couldn't even send her back to California. If Xander and Giles could be so positive about what she's doing and the difference she was making, then why did Buffy still feel like she was screwing it all up?

Am I even the right person to be doing this? I mean, am I really helping these girls? She asked herself, frowning. It didn't feel like it. She got them hunted down by the government and exiled to Europe for God's sake. Maybe they would've been better off without me. I don't ... I don't know what I'm doing. Buffy thought ashamedly.

Oddly enough, as much as she hated being a slayer general, that realization hurt her. Buffy had spent so much time and energy into these slayers that the possibility they would be better without her felt like another failure added to an increasingly long list. No matter the circumstance, they were still her charges. She didn't want to fail them too. What had it all been for?

Buffy stared into the sunset distantly, feeling a million miles away. I changed the world on it's slayer axis ... but maybe it changed me too. Maybe now the world is the one that doesn't need me.

~~Dean~~

Dean stood tensely, his arms crossed as he watched Sam rifle between books and his computer. His younger brother's expression was furrowed in concentration. Their father's journal was beside Sam's computer, opened. Days had passed since the dead demon incident in Michigan. Sam had went to work immediately in trying to classify where the strange sulfur came from. Dean, despite his skepticism, had helped out.

Currently, after scratching off many names of possible monsters off the list, Dean was agitated and knew it confirmed what he knew all along: this thing wasn't anything they've ever faced. Frankly, it was pointless trying further. Sam, however, felt differently and was still being thorough. His little brother was plucky. He'd give him that.

"Well?" Dean finally prompted as Sam flipped through John's journal again.

Sam paused to read one of the pages. Finally he snapped it shut. "Nothing. Not a single mention about a sulfur substance or a monster leaving behind green ectoplasm. Nothing in Dad's journal, not even in the Men of Letters files." He said with a hint of irritation.

"What'd I tell ya?" His older brother responded pointedly, throwing out his hands. "Look, whatever this thing is, it's new on the market. We ain't gonna find it in Dad's journal or notes from a bunch of dead book nerds." Dean reasoned, touching the journal and picking up a book before throwing it back down for emphasis.

"What kind of monster leaves behind sulfur besides demons?"

Dean caught the challenge in his brother's voice, but kept his cool. "We don't know yet." He said casually as he threw out his hands, sitting down in the chair. "Still in twenty questions, Sammy. We'll get there." The older Winchester said flippantly.

"Dean. Literally the only damn lead we have points to demons." The brown-haired hunter replied with an edge, getting impatient. "Why is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?"

"Because there are rules, Sam. Even in our world." Dean answered firmly, serious now. At his brother's still irritated look, the older hunter sighed and crossed his arms on table. "Look. Demons. We know demons. Son of a bitches flock to us like tweens to a 1D concert. If there was one out there like this, don't you think we would've ran into it already?"

Sam paused, still looking tense but clearly considering his words. Finally he shook his head. "It's the only option I can think of, Dean. Yeah, it's weird. Really weird, but you narrow down the search and it's still the only one staying." His brother said matter-of-factly.

Dean scowled at his brother slightly. He didn't know what to think honestly. He just knew he never saw a demon that left behind green goo sulfur. "Alright. We keep butting heads, we're gonna be at this all night." He said briskly, pushing off the table and standing. "We need to call Cas."

Dean didn't miss the flicker of surprise in Sam's face, but ignored it. Castiel may be ass-backwards lately, but they were out of options. The angel had a huge wealth of knowledge about lore. If they had any hope of figuring out what this mystery monster was, he was the best person to ask. There was also a part of Dean, despite the angel's behavior, that just wanted his help again.

For the most part, the hunter hadn't expected him to pick up so he was surprised when he heard Castiel's gravelly voice in his ear. "Hello, Dean."

"Cas, hey. Listen, we got a situation over here." Dean began. "Me and Sam were doing a demon case about a week back. It got ... weird." He went on a little more uncomfortably.

"Weird how?" Castiel sounded serious.

"Just get to the bunker. Sam and I will fill you in."

"... I'm already outside." His friend said suddenly, surprising Dean. Clearly he had used his angel wings to send himself from wherever the hell he had been before.

Given the supreme warding of the Men of Letters bunker, not even an angel like Castiel could materialize inside. The only way in the place was through the key. When the Winchesters unlocked the secret entrance, the angel was already waiting. Castiel walked in without a pause, his expression determined.

"What happened? Is it Crowley?" The angel asked urgently, turning around to face the brothers at the foot of the stairs.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. "You could say that." He replied vaguely.

Sam took over from there. "Dean and I caught a whiff of demons. They were in Novi, Michigan, looking for something. We didn't find out what, but we found this." The younger Winchester walked over back to his table, Castiel and Dean following. He grabbed the green sulfur, still in the zip lock bag and showed it to him. Castiel frowned.

"Found it in a mausoleum at the scene. Not ectoplasm, not acid, not sewage, nothing." Dean explained meaningfully. His expression became more serious. "Apparently it has sulfur in it." He revealed, unable to keep out the edge of his disbelief out of his voice.

"Sulfur?" The angel looked completely confused.

"Yep. Oh, and best part. The demons? Wasted, six ways from Sunday." The older Winchester elaborated matter-of-factly. "Just left us with this ... mystery special." He grumbled, still not satisfied with the state that case ended up in.

"We didn't catch what did it. Only hint we have is this." His younger brother admitted, giving a helpless shrug.

Castiel took the bag from Sam carefully, holding it up for examination. The angel studied it, a thoughtful look on his face.

Dean was impatient. "Look, me and Sam ... we can't make heads or tails of it. That's why we called in you." He prompted him firmly. " ... Cas. You're our tie-breaker." He said with exaggerated meaning, trying to make his face serious.

Castiel looked at Dean, a confused frown on his face. " ... I'm not certain that's necessary. I don't see a rope. If you were, in fact, tied—"

"J-Just figure this out for us, okay?! Turn on your angel brain." The older Winchester cut him off sharply, stuttering a bit in annoyance. He didn't want to bother with his friend's literalness right now.

The angel frowned a second, but obeyed. He opened the bag, touching some of the green goo sulfur with his finger to get a better feel for it. Their friend observed it with an unreadable expression, thinking deeply again. After a long moment, the look on his face become incredibly more serious and tense.

Dean didn't like that look at all. "Cas?"

Castiel's look was grave. "I can't fathom what abomination would leave this."

The hunter didn't need further elaboration. He snapped his fingers in realization. "I knew it. It's a new monster, cooked fresh out of the pot." Dean declared with certainty.

"You're right." His angel friend remarked flatly, his eyes still on the substance.

Dean threw out his arms, looking back at his brother pointedly. "Told you, Sam!"

"So it's not a demon, just something else?" Sam asked incredulously.

"You're wrong." Castiel replied, once again with little inflection.

Dean glanced back at the angel, highly confused. Was he hearing him right? "... Cas, do you we need to go over the difference between right and wrong again?" Dean asked with feeling, giving him a dubious look.

The angel didn't react. "It's ... tainted." He said slowly, confusion in his features. "The sulfur. It's not in it's natural state, but it's still demonic. Something in it's genetic make-up ... it's mutated."

"You mean, like a mutant demon? There are mutant demons now?" Dean questioned with an angry edge, completely lost.

"Is it sick? Like demon rabies or something?" This younger brother thought out loud, frowning.

"That would be nonsensical." Castiel replied matter-of-factly.

"Breaking news, Cas!" Dean retorted sarcastically, scowling as he threw out his arms. Like anything about this wasn't ridiculous and making no sense. He shook his head. "Seriously, what the hell is going on?" He grumbled.

"I don't know." Castiel sighed, putting the zip lock bag back on the table. "The mausoleum ... the demons must've been there for a reason. They were on a mission for Crowley, I suppose."

"Yeah, and this freak demon wiped 'em all out." Dean answered, calming a bit as he started to put together the implications. "Connects some of the dots, though. If it's got something else in it's cocktail, maybe that's why it double-crossed their asses."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "It definitely didn't want them to find what they were looking for."

Which we still don't know crap about. The older Winchester thought, dissatisfied. He didn't like this. He didn't like all the questions and the friggin' mutated demon and most of all being in a position where they still couldn't do anything. They didn't even know what this new kind of demon was capable of. It was all new territory.

"You said Novi, Michigan." Castiel mentioned meaningfully. "I'll look around that area for more clues on this strange demon. Hopefully on Crowley's plans as well. I'll be in touch." With the sound of his coat and wings, the angel was gone.

Dean stood there, staring at the spot his friend had been. Finally he turned to his brother, who looked just as done and overloaded as he felt. "Well, jury's out." He began, grabbing his half-drunken beer off the table and forcing a smile. "Mutant demon. Did not see that one coming." He said meaningfully as he sat back down, taking a gulp of his beer.

His brother gave a quiet scoff, sitting down in front of him. "Yeah, no kidding. I mean, I've thought we've seen it all, but ... wow." Sam replied in disbelief.

The overwhelmed feeling was starting to break through his attempts to be flippant. "What the hell, man. I mean, this? What happened to the old playbook? Are the rules different, I mean does it die a different way?" Dean said out loud, completely frustrated.

"Cas said it was still a demon." Sam responded.

"Do you think he was lying? Ever since Purgatory, he hasn't exactly been Old Reliable." His older brother pointed out, ignoring the part of him that hated the truth in that. He had to be realistic. Something was up with his best friend. He was hiding things and he had to second-guess his stories, especially one as ridiculous as this.

"Why would he lie, Dean?" His younger brother said in all seriousness, giving him a skeptical look.

Ain't that the million dollar question. The older hunter thought humorlessly. He shook his head. "I don't know." He admitted tiredly, taking another swig of his beer.

Maybe he was just imaging it. It wasn't like Dean had been the picture of sanity when was fresh off Purgatory. Hell, he still wasn't. But his gut told him it was more than that and no matter how hard he tried to let it go to trust his friend again, it still stayed.

"At least Crowley got bit in the ass. Almost makes this whole crapfest worth it." Dean brought up, trying to lighten it. He had to admit. Seeing the look on Crowley's face when he realizes his demons were snuffed out and his mission went to hell (and not literally) would've been priceless.

Sam nodded, but Dean could tell by the tense look in his eyes he just wasn't feeling it. The older Winchester gave up and lowered his eyes. There wasn't much in this situation to make look better. They had a new demon, no lead on Crowley, no idea what he was after, and just more questions. The case had been crap.

Unease wormed it's way into Dean like poison. Whatever that mystery demon was, whatever he was after, whatever was different about it ... the hunter knew a storm was coming.

A/N: There's the first chapter! :) I hoped you liked it. Writing the SPN characters is a new thing for me so if you guys ever have any tips, just tell me. I try to live up the canon characters as much as possible in all my writings. Unless your new storyline changes them gradually, they should be the way they're meant to be IMO.

Buffy's storyline, not including the eventual Dean/Buffy romance, is going to very, very complex. As you guys read, she's started off with a lot more demons: guilt, isolation, lack of purpose, and loneliness. This fic is going to expand on that and widen as it goes on, especially in how much the missing three years affected her. Her character arc, though eventually crosses with Dean's, still stands alone as Buffy and her love relationships in the series always has been.

To Buffyverse fans, yes, sadly Angel and Spike are dead. It was not easy. I love them both so much and ship them both with Buffy (On that spectrum, I'm sometimes thankful Buffy/Dean are crack because I'd never be able to chose between all three). I actually got a little emotional writing the Giles and Buffy section. There was just no place for them in this fic. I didn't want to write a love quad. Obstacles for Buffy/Dean getting together is caused enough by themselves without needing some outside source (and believe me, when you read more, you'll agree with me). Angel and Spike will have a silent presence though. They're a major conflict of Buffy's, along with her relationship to the Slayer Organization ("the mistake in L.A.").

Before you read too far, this is important to know. Yes, the Buffyverse and the Supernaturalverse are set in different worlds. I wanted to make a realistic crossover. Buffy, Dean, or Sam would've hunted each other's monsters if they could be in the same universe, but their monsters and mythology are just too different to fuse together believably. In this fic, they're alternate universes. The years are also irregular (if you follow Buffy's timeline it's 2006, but in the Supernatural world it's set in 2015). All that will be explained later in the story.

So there's the set-up. A lot of the story's seeds are planted in this chapter for the future. I'm very excited to write this story. :D I have so many ideas for it and already planned a lot of it out. Like I said though, it's more than a Buffy/Dean love story. Buffy, Dean, Sam, and even Castiel will all have their own character arcs. It's very "season"-like.

NEXT CHAPTER: On a night of patrolling that started out very typical, Buffy's slaying goes awry. The slayer is uprooted from her Scotland home and thrust into unknown territory with no explanation and no one to turn to. Desperate, Buffy sets out to find help. Dean and Sam are investigating another demonic omen, encountering a stranger they can't decide is friend or foe.

Reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!