lady_yashka (lady_yashka) wrote,
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Seasons of Wither: Chapter Seven

Title: Seasons of Wither
Author(s): lady_yashka
Artist: lightthesparks
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I do not own either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural.
Type: Het
Word Count: 19,565
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Michael, Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, Gabriel, Zachariah, Lucifer, Willow, Dawn, Faith, Xander, and Giles
Warnings: Character death
Spoilers: Spoilers through My Bloody Valentine. Some dialogue from various episodes is also used.
Summary:The war is over, and with the help of the slayers, the world is safe once more. Now, three months later the man Buffy only knew as the archangel Michael, is waking up.
Author’s Notes:First off I'd like to thank both moragmacpherson and aj_hofacre for all their help. Any mistakes left are all mine. I'd also like to thank lightthesparks for her wonderful artwork. And finally, I'd like to thank the mods of sncross_bigbang for hosting this challenge.



It was an odd sight, and one Buffy couldn’t help giggling at. Bobby Singer sat at the table, a dusty book open in front of him and Giles in the seat next to him. Both were gazing at the text, discussing the monster within. Giles used big words only someone who had religiously read the dictionary understood, while Bobby talked like a typical redneck, and yet somehow they understood each other enough to argue. She heard snickering to her left and saw Dean, also seated by the table and slouched down in a chair, his legs propped up on another chair, right on top of the left, with his crutches under the table. Sam was sitting directly on Dean’s left. His arms rested on the table, and his head was buried in his arms. His shoulders shook though no sound escaped beyond the occasional snort. Upon closer inspection, Buffy saw that Dean had tears in his eyes and shaking shoulders of his own.

“Listen, you damned overeducated idjit!” Bobby growled, his eyes narrowed and focused on Giles. “I don’t give a good god-damn what your precious Watcher tomes tell you. Only something made of pure brass can kill a Rakshasa!”

Giles turned towards Bobby, glasses in one hand, the other planted on his knee. Buffy settled down in one of the chairs, leaning forward eager to watch.

“The Rakshasa are incredibly rare, and have never been spotted outside of India, much less in the United States.”

Bobby leaned forward and growled out, “the boys took one out a few years ago. Damn thing was playin’ at being a clown to get invited into kids’ homes.”

“That is--”

“True,” Dean butted in, speaking up and bringing Bobby and Giles’ attention their way. There was a massive, slightly smug grin on his face. Sam turned his head in his brother’s direction, but refrained from lifting it. “Bastard was traveling around with a carnival of all things. Sammy killed it with the brass pipe from an organ in the funhouse.”

“Really?” Buffy’s eyes lit up. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve guys have ever had to slay?”

Sam and Dean shared a look. Sam shrugged his shoulders and Dean nodded his head. No words were exchanged, but Buffy got the feeling an entire conversation had just taken place.

“The racist ghost truck,” they both answered at once before looking at each other again and sharing a grin. Dean turned back towards Buffy.

“Ghost was killing black people in Mississippi and we had to fish the damn truck out of the swamp in order to burn the bastard’s corpse.”

Buffy nodded. “That’s a good one! Bizarre, but logical, if the guy’s body was still in the truck. Though nothing will ever beat the time Dracula showed up in Sunnydale.” Buffy snorted and in a singsong voice said, “He made Xander his butt monkey!”

She looked toward the brothers. It was pretty funny watching as Dean’s eyes slowly widened. Apparently, Sam thought it was funny, too. He had an amused look on his face.

“Dude!” Dean’s voice held all of the excitement of a twelve year old on Christmas. “You killed Dracula?”

“Kinda,” Buffy said with a shrug. “He kept coming back, but I kept stabbing him until he got the message and left town.”

Dean sighed. “That’s too bad. I would have torched the son of a bitch.”

“Huh?” Buffy eyed Dean curiously.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam asked. “When did you get your hate-on for Dracula? You always liked those stupid movies.”

“The movies, yeah.” Dean waved his hand. “All the blood and gore…the brides,” Dean’s grin widened, “That was just awesome. The book however, was just wrong.”

You read Dracula,” Sam said, disbelief filling his tone.

Dean shot him a nasty look. “You had to read it for class. We were in Idaho, and I had a broken leg. Dad was off on a hunt, and I was bored.”

“Oh.” Sam paused. “Oh, yeah, I remember that year.”

“You should tell her about that haunted book convention you two stumbled on,” Bobby interjected, a smug look on his face. Sam and Dean both shot a glare in Bobby’s direction.

Buffy smiled. “A book convention? Do tell.”

“No,” Dean grumbled. “There will be no sharing of this story.”

“You mean I can’t even tell ‘em about the Winchester Gospels?” Bobby asked, a wide grin splitting his face at their outraged looks. “Or how about I just tell ‘em ‘bout Becky?”

“Gospels? Becky?” Buffy’s eyes darted from one person to the next. “Can someone please make with the ‘splainy?”

“They are a series of books written about Sam and Dean by the prophet Chuck.” Castiel’s gravelly voice came from behind them, and Buffy turned to see him standing in the doorway. “Becky is Chuck’s companion.” At the frown on Buffy’s face, Castiel corrected himself. “His... girlfriend.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean growled, slouching down in his seat. “As if the whole gospel thing couldn’t get any more humiliating.”

“You guys have an actual gospel?” Buffy’s voice rose in pitch, with the clear hint of a whimpered at the end. “As in a Biblical gospel?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered when neither Sam, nor Dean, seemed like they would. Bobby was too busy laughing at their expense to be any help and Giles looked like he not only wanted to go out and hunt down every book in said gospel, but also to also drag the aforementioned Prophet Chuck back with him.

“No fair!” Buffy whined, outrage filling her words. “I’m the Slayer! Why can’t I have a gospel?”

“Do you really want the whole world knowing in exact detail everyone one you’ve ever slept with?” Dean asked, turning his head in her direction. Buffy’s face burned and she shook her head. “Then be glad you didn’t get one of your own.”

“I don’t understand.” Castiel focused his attention on Buffy, head titled to one side. “Why would you complain when you are featured in theirs?”

“I’m in a gospel?” Buffy perked up and her smile brightened. “I‘m in a gospel! And I‘m not naked in it either!” She bounced up and down in her seat eagerly. “Can my part be called the Book of Buffy?”

Sam’s head started hitting the table. Dean’s head fell back against the chair and he closed his eyes tightly as he began to laugh.

“What?” Buffy asked with a pout, a faint trace of a grin on her lips as she looked at the two brothers. “It’s only fair. Any time anything is written about me it’s all death and world endage, and sacred duty, blah, blah, blah.”

“Save the enthusiasm for when you’ve actually read Chuck’s writing,” Dean replied with a snort. “It will make you long for the doom and gloom of prophecy.”

“Harlequin books have better writing than Chuck‘s books,” Sam replied with a sound that could only be classified as a giggle.

“My skin mags have better writing than Chuck‘s books,” Dean snarked back, easing his legs from off of the chair. Buffy blinked once and suddenly Castiel was by Dean’s side, crutches somehow already in his hands while Sam helped his brother stand. “God, I need a beer.” Dean paused, hand still resting on Sam’s arm, the other now gripping one crutch and his brows furrowed thoughtfully. “And a burger with extra onions and lots of bacon.” He shook his head and grinned. “Come on, Sammy, Cas. Sam, you’re driving.”

Sam and Castiel preceded Dean out the door, with Castiel holding the door open by his angelic will. As Dean approached the exit, he suddenly stopped and looked over his shoulder at Buffy, who was looking at the paperwork on the desk in dismay. As she sensed Dean’s attention, she glanced up. Dean raised a single brow at her. “Got anymore cool stories?”

A grin so large and bright that it could have blinded him encompassed Buffy’s face and she stood immediately. “I’ve got plenty, but only if you share some of yours.”

Dean ignored Bobby’s grumbled ‘idjits’ and grinned back. “It’s a deal.”

Twenty minutes later, they sat in a diner. It seemed Dean had a knack for finding relics of the past. This place was firmly set in the 1960’s with Formica tables, linoleum floors, and vinyl seats. A row of stools lined the front counter and wide window allowed them a glimpse of the parking lot. Their waitress, who was all wide smiles and wearing a shirt cut low enough to catch anyone’s eye, greeted them. Buffy gritted her teeth as Dean flirted with her, charming smile in place. She noticed Sam’s eyes roll and felt a bit better. Castiel gave no indication that he was aware of anything amiss and certainly didn’t seem fazed by Dean’s antics.

“Hey, honey,” the woman simpered. Her name was Wendy, as Buffy unfortunately discovered when she leaned down and nearly smothered Dean’s face with her breasts. “What can I get ya?”

“I’ll have your special, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice was smooth, full of charm and a certain amount of smugness. He was starting to remind her of Faith again and Buffy didn’t know how she felt about this. She glanced down and away from Dean, frowning to herself. “And could you bring me a coffee and some pie to go with it?”

“Sure thing,” Wendy winked at him, jotting down his order. “What can I get the rest of ya‘ll?” Buffy rolled her eyes and gave her order. Sam and Castiel followed suit even though Wendy’s eyes never left Dean.

When she was gone, Sam reached across the table and smacked his brother, earning him a sharp glare.

“What?” Dean asked, rubbing his head.

“Do you really have to?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“Wendy?” Sam gestured emphatically towards where their waitress stood, her eyes hungrily focused on Dean as she mentally stripped him. Dean’s grin returned. Sam snorted in disgust. “I can’t go anywhere with you.”

“Hey,” Dean huffed, his smile fading. “I’ve been stuck in a hospital room for months. If I want to flirt with the pretty waitress, I will.”

Some of the levity left the table. Buffy cringed, and briefly shut her eyes. Castiel frowned.

“Dean…” Sam started, his tone matching the guilt in his eyes.

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, leaning forward and flicking his brother’s forehead. “None of that. We are here so I can eat real food, and tell Buffy all about the cursed rabbit’s foot.”

Sam’s expression became outraged and even Castiel’s expression lightened. Buffy snorted a laugh, earning questioning looks.

“I had a friend. Her name was Anya,” Buffy explained. “She was terrified of rabbits.”

Sam snorted. “Somehow, I can’t blame her.”

“This Anya... She has passed on?” Castiel asked, his eyes narrowed perceptively

“Yeah.” Buffy’s half-smile faltered a little, then returned a bit more forcefully, carrying memories of awkward conversations filled with blunt words and talks of sex. “She was engaged to Xander.”

“Harsh,” Dean said. Wendy returned with their drinks and left her number with Dean. Before he could pocket the napkin, Sam snatched it from his hand and gave it to Castiel. It disappeared into the angel’s pocket a second later. Scowling at them, Dean slumped back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

“Do you know why she hated rabbits?” Sam asked all the while favoring his brother with a scowl of his own.

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. We never did find out.”

Dean nodded and placed his cup back on the table. “Sammy’s scared of clowns.”

“Dude!” Sam yelled. “Dean’s scared of flying.”

“Planes crash,” Dean shot back.

“He’s got a point,” Buffy said, failing to suppress her giggles.

“Gabriel once trapped Sam and Dean in his version of various television shows,” Castiel added, taking a slow sip of water. Buffy’s eyes widened and her jaw bounced onto the table.

“Cas!” Both brothers shouted at once, more shocked at the angel’s sudden input than outraged.

“Tell me!” she demanded excitedly, leaning toward Castiel as her grin turned fierce. She had a talent for sensing good blackmail stories.

Castiel smiled back and started his tale. Their food arrived and they continued to argue over what really happened all through lunch. As they got up to pay, the bickering continued with mentions of people and places Buffy was going to have to bribe Sam into telling her about.

Buffy chanced a quick glance over her shoulder and smirked.

Seeing the furious, jealous look gracing Wendy’s face was an added bonus.

Chapter Eight
Tags: big bang, seasons of wither
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