Title: Maybe I'm A Lie in Disguise | Chapter 2
Author: Muse's Inspiration
Rating: Hard 'R' right now… could lead to higher! ;-)
Pairing: Looks at the board…uh, wow. Gee… I wonder…
Warning: The usual Buffy & Supernatural violence, gore, yadda yadda yadda
Spoilers: Um, well… yeah… I mean, could we write fanfiction without spoiler of *some* sort being in it??
Challenge: issued by Jenn over at Rt 66:DS. I did the best I could… but it might not fit it *exactly*!!
Note: This was beta'd by the ever lovely dhark_charlotte. I don't know what I would do without her sometimes!!

***

Sam wasn't happy. Not happy at all. He could think of a million other places he'd rather be right now… and trudging through knee deep snow in sub-freezing temperatures was definitely nowhere on that list. Personally, he thought that Dean was being a tad unreasonable in his desire to find out, right this second, what was out here. After all, it was dark, it was cold and… it was dark and it was cold!! But when Dean got something in his head, he was like a dog with a bone. Sam had learned it was just easier to smile, nod and just go along with what Dean said.

It wasn't unlike a marriage of sorts.

Stepping over a log, Sam sank into a snow bank that came almost to his waist. At that point, he was more than ready to say "screw it!" and go back to the motel! He was even willing to just lie to Dean, as long as he was warm again. He could live with the guilt, dammit. Well… yeah, yeah…he could live with it! Frostbite and hypothermia were not real high on his list of fun things to have happen to him. Besides, Dean just got out of the hospital the day before… it's not like he could come out here himself right now. He'd just have to live with it!

Just as Sam was pulling himself up and out of the snow, he heard a noise behind him. Nothing loud… just a twig snapping. But it was enough to cause him to cease all movement. Trying desperately to control his breathing, he finally noticed that all sound had ceased in the night darkened hills. Whereas before he had heard the occasional hoot of an owl and typical night scurrying of the nocturnals, he now heard nothing but deafening silence. It was unnerving.

Sensing eyes on him, he slowly turned his head, trying to get a look at what was watching him. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was right there, watching, waiting for him to make a wrong move. Slowly, he reached for his cell phone and pulled it from his pocket, frowning when he saw that he had no signal. No, dammit! – Now the silence was only broken by his breathing! Taking a slow, deep breath, he made the decision to cautiously make his way back to the motel. It would be better to come back during the day and try to follow tracks then, rather than to be out here at night and wander into God only knew what!

Slowly, painstakingly, he pulled himself up and over the log and started back the way he came. He kept a careful eye out; watching to see if he could catch a glimpse of what was out there. He had long ago learned that just because you couldn't see it, didn't mean it wasn't there. If your instincts told you something wasn't right, they were usually dead on target.

He was at the halfway point going back towards the motel when he suddenly became aware of something to his right. It was further back into the trees, keeping pace with him. He stopped and watched and somehow knew that whatever it was had stopped too. Suddenly convinced that now would be a really good time to get the hell out of the woods, Sam started walking again towards the fence line that separated him from the field in front of the motel. And if he was walking a little more quickly than before, who would blame him? Especially since he'd been so preoccupied with Dean's demands that he just now realized that he'd left his weapon sitting on the table by the door. The ammo might not kill whatever it is, but it could slow it down some. He shook the thought away and returned his attention to the fence.

Spying the fence line through the trees, Sam started jogging. Jogging was an exaggeration, jumping over the fly high snow was the best he could do. Even with his long legs, his increased speed didn't pull him ahead of whatever was pacing him. He could see a form in the shadows, but couldn't really make out what it was. He turned back to look at his goal, putting on a little more speed, when the air suddenly changed and Sam knew he had to get out of there and now! Just as he reached the tree line, he sensed movement behind him, and it was fast. Before he could react and try to dodge out of the way, he was sent down, face first into a snow bank. He floundered in the deep snow, trying to turn and face his attacker as he reached for the knife in his boot when his back exploded with a blinding hot pain, like razor sharp claws raking across his skin as if the heavy canvas of his coat didn't exist.

Screaming in pain, Sam tried to curl into a ball but the snow and the creature's weight effectively trapped him. He tensed for another blow as the creature's heavy breath sounded in the muffled quiet of the field. His imagination running wild, he envisioned the downswing of wicked claws, but just as he was expecting the blow… the creature's presence was gone. Without the weight on his lower back, Sam could turn his head and a quick visual of the immediate area showed no physical sign of his attacker. Trying to leverage his body up out of the snow, he couldn't bite back the automatic groan of pain in as the gashes on his back pulled. Between the cold and blood loss, he was starting to feel weak and he knew he needed to get somewhere safe so that he could have someone take care of it. With Dean out of commission, he couldn't think of who that might be.

Pulling himself to his feet, he barely staggered three steps before he sank back to his knees. His vision blurred and just before he fell to the side and into blessed blackness, his mind registered a small blonde woman rushing towards him, yelling something that he just couldn't quite understand...

***

Buffy was more than a little upset. Actually, she was royally pissed off. Despite having spent some time in Cleveland, the cold was not where she longed to be. And trudging around in knee deep snow was not something she wanted to maintain as part of her Slayer image. To add insult to injury, she was out here… in the gradually deepening snow, because the world's smallest small town had what was, without a doubt, the absolute worst library she had ever come across.

…not that she spent a lot of time in libraries, but…

Seriously, though! – How was it possible that every single local newspaper for the last three months could be checked out? What were the odds of that? And she still couldn't come up with a logical explanation as to why the library didn't have an internet archive. That one was still boggling to her mind.

Shivering, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and then promptly decided that it wasn't a good idea to do that when she almost lost her balance and stumbled a few steps in the now thigh deep snow. It was fairly obvious that being out during the night, in the cold and snow, was not a great idea. It was one thing to wander the graveyards of Sunnydale in the darkest of nights; it was another to do so in BFE Winter Wonderland of Snow. At least in Sunnydale, she had streetlights and ambient light assisting her already enhanced vision. Tripping over yet another buried branch proved that this was not the case in Missouri.

Looking back over the day, she should have known nothing good was going to come of things when she was in the diner grabbing breakfast and she opened the paper to the headline of "YET ANOTHER BODY FOUND MAULED" followed by the subtext of "Police Still Have No Clues". Subtle… the all caps really allowed that headline to fade into the background of things. Despite having seen Hellraiser re-enacted just an hour prior, she was still hungry; but now, after reading that this was not the first instance of said re-enactment, Buffy found that her appetite had quickly died down and she was left with an ashy aftertaste in her mouth. She was starting to become convinced that even her vacations were pre-planned for her now. There was no way that her being here now was a coincidence.

Great. Just… great.

She was so busy enjoying her full on pout that she failed to hear the waitress until 'Flo' cleared her throat loudly and said, obviously not the first time if her tone was any indication, "You gonna eat that, hon? Or do you want me to wrap it up for you?"

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Buffy glanced down at her plate of French toast and bacon and sighed; it had looked tasty when it first arrived. Now the butter was a congealed melted pile of goo and the syrup had that filmy look that it got when it went cold. It was definitely not appetizing in the least. Yet another breakfast gone, thanks to the PTB. She really should start billing them for that.

Sighing and shaking her head no, Buffy picked up her check and made sure to leave a generous tip for Miss Flo and paid her bill. Debating on where her next stop should be, since it was obvious there was a problem here that required her particular skills set, she wandered down the sidewalk, taking in the scenery and getting an overall feel for the little town of Cuba. She had learned that you could tell a lot just by walking around and allowing yourself to soak in the ambience of a place. You could learn where people avoided, where they liked to hang out, if there were any urban legends about a place; all just by being aware of your surroundings.

Spying a local general store, complete with pharmacy and soda fountain, Buffy decided that this would probably be a good place to start researching the town's spook history and walked in. She was immediately hit by the smell of America Small Town when she entered; the smell of cinnamon, apple pie, ice cream, cherry, home cooking and friendly neighbors could all be experienced in there and she found herself missing home and her friends. It was really true, that memories were the strongest when linked to smell. Smiling softly to herself at the sound of the little bell tinkling her arrival, she walked in a smiled at the few women who had been standing around talking and decided to explore the store and listen in on what the locals were gossiping about. It wasn't long before conversations started back up and she was rewarded with some interesting tidbits.

"I'm tellin' ya, Ida! – My mama used to tell stories about strange killings happening when she was younger… weird things; dogs goin' missing, cattle turning up dead, horses spooked at night. She even said that there were some people gone missing, too!" a woman stated emphatically.

"Doris, your mother, God rest her soul, was as batty as a belfry! That woman was convinced she saw fairies dancing in the moonlight." The woman identified as Ida countered.

Another woman interrupted what was about to turn into a rather ugly showdown if Doris' face was any indication. "Ida, honey, you know as well as I do that back in the 30's some men went missing when they went after those coyotes that were killing the cattle. But Doris, sweetie…" the woman turned towards Doris, "those men were found up in the hills, frozen. The coyotes had gotten to them. There was nothing strange or odd going on there."

Doris huffed. "Gladys, it wasn't just that! Remember all of those newspaper articles we found in school about the how those men went out there because there was some sort of creature that had been spotted in a field with the livestock?!"

Buffy perked up at the mention of newspaper articles. She may hate research, but it was something she'd learn to do and was actually quite competent at it when she needed to be. Luckily, the need didn't arise very often. She listened as the ladies moved off towards the front door of the store, their conversation fading away as they continued to argue the point of something supernatural being the culprit or not. It looked like it was time to pay a trip to the local library. She hoped Faith never got wind of this; she'd never live it down if she did.

****

Buffy stared at the large brick building with it's marble stepped entry and massive columns and couldn't stop the thought that it seemed just about libraries had the same designer. No matter where she went, they always looked the same. It was comforting in a sense… but also damned annoying. It's not like it'd kill them to be original for once.

Shrugging, Buffy pulled the SUV into a parking space near the front of the building and turned it off, grabbing her purse, her laptop and the keys and bracing herself, stepped out into the Missouri cold. Shivering, she rushed through the snow drifts from where the plows had come through and tramped into the library, her stomping feet as she fought to get the snow off the designer boots echoing through the quiet vastness of the hall. She cringed slightly when she looked and spotted the librarian glaring at her over the gold rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Buffy barely contained the snort when she saw that just like every other librarian, this one was no different; hair up in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, chocolate colored cardigan over cream colored blouse and she was willing to bet the woman had on a brown skirt and brown shoes.

It just worked out that way.

Smiling in apology, Buffy made her way to the information desk and set her bags down, trying to be as quiet as possible and failing miserably in the cavern of echoes. Chalking it up to not being able to please the frowning lady in front of her, Buffy put on her best 'I am your best friend and I need your help' smile and plunged ahead with her quest for knowledge.

"Hi! I'm Buffy! I'm a grad student doing a thesis on local folklore and legends and how they affect people's behavior in their environment for my Behavioral Science degree. I overheard some ladies in the convenience store mention something about some local urban legends dating several decades and I was wondering if you have any newspaper articles on any of it?" Buffy quickly asked.

Silence greeted her. Frowning, Buffy looked at the lady who in turn was glaring at Buffy's purse that was sitting on a stack of magazines. Obviously, this was an issue and she quickly reached over and snatched her purse up, slinging it over her shoulder and giving the lady a quick smile.

The librarian, whose name tag said 'Martha' gazed at Buffy for a moment and then pursed her lips and looked back down at the books she was stamping with the library insignia. "No." she said.

Buffy shook her head slightly in confusion. "No? No what?"

The librarian sighed and glanced back at her over her glasses. "No, we don't have any articles on the deaths that have taken place around here."

"But…" Buffy trailed off. "But why not? Not even on the internet archives?"

"We don't have the internet here."

Buffy floundered for a moment. "But… what about your newspapers? Don't you keep archives of those?"

The librarian went back to stamping her books. "The only newspapers we have go back to two years ago. And all of those have been checked out. Some young boy wanted them to do a paper for his Psychology class. Now, if you will excuse me…?" and she proceeded to take up a stack of books and walk away, effectively dismissing Buffy.

Buffy gaped at the empty space that Martha had just vacated. Well, that had led to a dead end. Figuring that there was nothing left to do but go back to the motel room and see what she could dig up on the internet, Buffy grabbed her bags and trudged back to the truck, grumbling the whole way about small towns, smaller libraries and evil librarians the entire time. She was so caught up in her little inner tirade, she missed the look that Martha shot her as she passed her in the stacks on the way to the front door.

****

Buffy sat back in her chair at the motel and glared at the laptop screen with a ferocity that would have quelled most demons in their tracks. The laptop, however, showed no fear as it kept it's little blue circle of busyness going from where it was frantically trying to connect to yet another web site that apparently didn't exist anymore.

Of course. Why should it be easy for her to find out anything? How silly of her to think it would be otherwise.

Slightly convinced that the laptop was probably cackling inside its little Intel processor at her efforts to accomplish any sort of research, Buffy got up and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains and blinking in surprise at the darkness that greeted her. Glancing at her watch, she gaped in surprise to see that it was almost eleven in the evening. Somehow, she'd managed to waste a large chunk of time doing absolutely nothing productive other than develop a healthy dislike for anything of a research nature. Looking back out the window into the night, she saw that the moon was out tonight and the road that ran along the motel was glistening from where the day's slush had frozen.

It looked really damn cold out there.

Shivering and longing for her native California sun, she reached out and grabbed the curtains and was starting to pull them again when she felt it again; that slight shiver of awareness from the night before. Faint, far and moving away, but it was there. Frowning in thought, she turned and looked at the laptop and saw that it still hadn't yielded a web page for her to look at. Sighing deeply, she turned and looked once more at the scene outside before making up her mind and closing the drapes. She stalked over, slung on her heavy jacket, wrestled her way into the bulky winter boots and wrapped herself into her scarf, hat and gloves. Hoping that whatever was out there wasn't looking for a fight tonight as she was so bundled up she wasn't sure how much of one she could give, she opened the door and headed off into the night's frigid air, hunting the source of what was causing her Slayer senses to ping and hopefully provide an answer to this mystery.

****

Shivering from the cold and trying to plough her way through the deep drifts of snow along the fence line, Buffy was in high ire for talking herself into this mess. There was nothing out here that couldn't have waited until morning. Seriously, as cold as it was out here, it could have waited.

Giving herself a good talking to, muttering the whole time about not letting her Slayer have a say in things anymore, she almost missed the snapping of a twig near on her right flank. Stopping instantly, she listened and suddenly heard the sounds of something floundering in the snow off to her right. Turning towards the sound, she began to slowly make her way through the cold snow drifts, pausing frequently to listen. She could hear the efforts of whatever it was as it thrashed through the deep drifts. The sound suddenly ceased as if something barred its way.

Beginning to think that it was just something of the normal nocturnal hunter and prey situation, Buffy started to dismiss the entire thing until she heard the unmistakable yelp of a man in response to an injury. Spinning around once again, Buffy dashed toward the sound and hurdled over the log in her way just in time to see something large, covered in fur, its eyes shining with a golden light. Its massive paw was armed with sharp claws that glinted in the moonlight and said paw was beginning a powerful downward swipe. Putting all her strength into leaping over the various obstacles in her way, Buffy landed with flourish of snow and snapped branches. The commotion instantly caught the creature's attention. It paused for a brief moment before snarling and whirling around; flashing through the snow as if it presented no obstacle.

Buffy stood silently a moment and assessed the situation before rushing to the man. He'd managed to pull himself up and stagger a few feet before falling to his side in the snow. As she approached, she was able to finally get a look at his face and couldn't stop the gasp as she realized it was the man from earlier in the day, Sam. Reaching him, she could see the damage the creature had done to his back; several deep gashes that needed immediate attention. She also realized that he was nearly unconscious.

"Sam! Sam, it's me, Buffy! It's ok! I've got you, ok? You're gonna be ok!"

A groan then dead weight was the only response she got before he finally lost consciousness. Figured. The guy had to be at least 6'4" and probably well over two hundred pounds. His weight wasn't an issue, but all those limbs flopping around would be. Buffy sighed heavily. She was going to have to carry his heavy butt out of there. Groanting, she swung him up into a fireman's carry and started back to the motel. Grunting under his weight and the snow, she couldn't help but grumble, "Boy, when you come to, Sam… you're so gonna make with the 'splainy!"

****

Buffy stumbled her way up the steps and finally made it to Sam's door. Leaning him against the wall, she was pleased to see he had his eyes open, albeit they were rather glazed with pain and his face was pale with shock. His hand lifted up, trembling, and his eyes widened when he saw the blood it.

"Sam. Sam! I need your key. Where's your key, Sam?" Buffy asked, trying to get him to focus on something other than his injuries. He looked at her in confusion.

"Your key, Sam. For the door. I need it. Where is it?" She asked again. Seeing the glint of understanding in his eyes, he motioned to his inner jacket pocket, but grimaced in pain when he made to remove it.

Swatting his hand away, Buffy reached inside and felt the inner pocket until her hand grasped the key and pulled it out. Turning, one hand bracing Sam as his body weight threatened to pull him down to the ground, she inserted the key in the lock and turned it and pushed the door open. Grabbing Sam by an arm and bracing a shoulder up under it, Buffy made her way into the room, taking most of his weight.

"Light…" Sam trailed off weakly.

"Sammy?!" another male voice questioned in alarm. Buffy froze as she heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked behind her.

"Sammy?! Are you ok?"

Suddenly Buffy was momentarily blinded as the bedside lamp flared to brilliant life, lighting the pitch black room.

"What the hell happened to you?! Sammy! What'd you do to him!?" the male voice questioned angrily.

Blinking rapidly, Buffy cleared the stars from her eyes and turned her head slowly towards the man that held the shotgun trained on her.

And promptly dropped Sam to the floor as she saw who was standing there.

"Dean?!" Buffy exclaimed in shock.

The man in question just stood there, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water, as he stared at her. Yes, she was older, her hair was different and she was covered in blood, again… but it was her. It was Buffy!

"Buf- Oomph!" Dean was silenced from his exclamation as she had moved faster than he could track and had proceeded to slap him so hard that his head snapped to the side.

"What the hell was that for?!" he yelled angrily.

"That was for leaving me, with no explanation, when I was 15!" Buffy stated emphatically and then turned on her heel and stalked out the door, slamming it so hard it shook in its frame.

Sam moaned. "Dean?" Den looked down at him and Sam continued in a pain filled whisper, "Is there something I should know?"

"Shit, Sammy… there's a lot you don't know." He sighed and then walked over to start cleaning the mess something had made of Sam. He'd deal with Buffy tomorrow. Right now, he needed to take care of his brother.

Dean no sooner kneeled down to start assessing Sam's injuries when the door banged back open with such force that it bounced off the wall behind and started swinging shut again. A whirlwind of blonde hair and dark clothes swarmed in and shoved Dean out of the way, squatting down next to Sam and opening a large case that Dean could make out had medical supplies in it.

"Hey!" Dean growled. "Watch it!" He rubbed the shoulder she had used to shove him out the way with and wondered if she had dislocated it again. "And just what the hell are you doing?!"

Buffy glared at him and stopped what she was doing long enough to turn and stare him down. "Don't Dean. Just… don't! I'm helping Sam… I'll deal with you later." She turned back to him, effectively shutting him out and started working on Sam, cutting away the material of his shirt and jacket to better able to see his wounds, her body language screaming that Dean would be much better off to just leave her alone.

Dean sat down on the bed and set the shotgun next to him. Fine. He could wait her out.