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Peas in a pod: a Supernatural/Buffy crossover ficlet

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  • Peas in a pod: a Supernatural/Buffy crossover ficlet

    Characters: Buffy, Dean
    Setting: Season 8 of Btvs, season 4 of Supernatural


    There was a long pause. Dean took a few sips of his beer. Buffy merely played with the label on hers, pulling shreds off. After Sam had introduced them, he'd left, saying he'd see them later and to, "Really talk about it. She might be able to help you deal with it, Dean."

    Things had gotten awkward quick and stayed that way.

    "So," said Dean, finally. "How was it for you? You're supposed to be this expert on the subject."

    "Well, I have done it twice." Buffy shrugged. "First time it was wet. Second time, dirty."

    That broke the ice. Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Crawling your way up from under six feet of dirt, does get you mussed." He leaned back. "But you clean up pretty good."

    Buffy smiled, piggling more of the beer label off, letting it drop onto the bar. "Not too shabby yourself."

    Dean grinned. A full megawatt leer. "You know what they say about people doing that?" He pointed at her busy fingers. "Sexual frustration."

    Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Sam told me to watch out for you. He mentioned that you were a pig."

    "That hurts."

    "That's siblings. Always tattling."

    Dean looked genuinely interested. "What, you've got a little brother too?"

    "Sister. And, not always little. Currently, she's part-horse."

    Dean spit his beer out in an impressive spurt, almost reaching the barman who was standing a few feet away. This got Dean a filthy look. But Buffy diffused the situation with a quick, "I'm sorry about my friend. They're only letting him out for the day. It's his birthday. I'm taking him to the icecapades."

    "Wow, thanks. Now the guy thinks I'm a gay retard."

    Buffy gave him a glowering, deadly look. "I can hurt you, you know. With my bare hands."

    "Easy, lady. You're supposed to be teaching me the meaning of death."

    "We could make it a practical lesson?" Buffy sounded almost hopeful. But then she softened. "Look, I know you can be an ass. But I'm not here to tear you a new....ass. I get it. The whole coming back from the dead thing... whether you were in the good place or the bad one... it can feel like you've been pulled inside out. So..." She glanced at her now-nude beer bottle. "Maybe that's all the advice I've got. It's a crappy thing. You'll probably do some crappy things while you try to make sense of it. You'll get over it."

    Dean laughed. "Wow. And here I was thinking we were going to hug and share."

    "No hugging. But... " Buffy looked at him directly now. "Sam told me about all the stuff you two have been through. And I..." Buffy smiled. "You know, this is going to sound bad but... I'm almost glad to know that there's someone whose life's been just as screwed up by their...job as mine. Maybe even more."

    Dean raised his bottle. "Well, boo hoo for the both of us."

    Buffy clinked hers against his. "Boo hoo."

    "But it's not all bad," said Dean. "I mean... we don't have to work in an office. We get to drive around, shooting guns..."

    "Yeah, actually, I don't do either of those things."

    "You don't drive? You don't use guns? What, are you slayer chicks Amish or something?"

    "No... I just don't... need them. Cars or guns. Well, anyway, guns don't kill vampires."

    "You never heard of wooden bullets?"

    "Oh. Well... I don't like them. You say concealed weapon? I say that's the line of my outfit ruined."

    "Heh." Dean shook his head. "Now you're sounding like Sammy." Dean leaned closer. "So, how do you know little bro anyhow? He was kinda cagey about how you two met."

    "We..." Buffy waved her hand, awkwardly. "Met. You know."


    "While you were dead. We got talking in a bar in New York. I was there...welll, there was this time travel...anyway. We got talking. We almost got fighting - he thought I was a demon, on account of the unnatural strength... it was a thing. We said we'd stay in touch if we could ever help each other out with work stuff. I didn't think he'd call. But then he called about you after you..."

    "Big of him. But, I was lying in my grave and my brother's banging hot chicks in the city that never sleeps. That's cold."

    "Banging? Ew."

    "Yeah, actually, I don't really want to think about the....banging."

    "Subject change? We could talk about death again?"


    "So... well, this is kind of about death... do you there a god, at all? I mean, not gods in the hellgod sort of sense..."

    "Wait, there are hellgods?"

    "Yup. Bad hair, slutty dresses."

    "That I'd like to see."

    "Really wouldn't," said Buffy. "But, off topic... I mean God. As in the big man. White beard. Single parent."

    Dean shrugged. "Still not sure. I mean... I was pretty damn sure there wasn't one. But then, well... I met an angel the other day."

    "You met Angel?"

    "No, AN angel."


    "Dude said he was one. And he did have the wings."

    Buffy absorbed this. "Wow. Angels. How come I never met an angel?"

    "Maybe cause you weren't a good little choirboy like me?" Dean grinned. "Or maybe it's bullcrap, who knows?"

    "Yeah," said Buffy. "That's pretty much my theological position."

    "You know what?" said Dean, turning to Buffy.


    "I think we should get another beer. And then I think we should get another. And then when Sam gets back, we can tell him we hugged and shared and you taught me how to deal with the reality of my own return from the dead. Trust me, he'll only give me crap if he thinks we didn't."

    Buffy nodded. "Wilco." She held up a hand to attract the barman's attention. "Four more, please?"

    When the beers arrived, they clinked and cheers-ed.

    "Here's to not being dead," said Dean.

    -- Robofrakkinawesome BANNER BY FRANCY --