crossoverfic | My Poker Face Only Cracks For Him; Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural; Sam/Buffy, Dean; PG-13

Title: My Poker Face Only Cracks For Him
Fandom: Supernatural/BTVS
Author:

rosie1234
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Character/Pairing/Group: Sam/Buffy, Dean
Word Count: 1,406
Warning: Spoilers Season Two Finale
For: ImNaturallySuper,

galorechallenge
Prompt: Death
Rating: PG-13

“A slayer, willing to give up her so damn important soul or a lowly human, wow, I think I’m shocked.”

I’m still covered in his blood, trying so hard to put him back together and failing (looking down at my red stained finger tips), as I begin to bargain away my soul.

(this one that has only been alive with him)

“Just do it, bitch, and make it quick.”

My poker face is firmly in place, those sticky tears from hours before leaving no trace (as I fell to my knees with him in my arms), as I face the very creature I would have been finished killing a minute ago.

(but now I’m about to put my lips on it and give everything away for him)

“Are you in some hurry, Summers?”

I’m inching to put a blade through its throat (the magic one that has made my life easier), wishing I felt more remorse about killing the human covering it, but I keep control of myself.

(knowing that in the end it will give me what I desire most in the world, Sammy)

“Nope, just having a hard time fighting the urge to take your damn head off, and trust me nothing would be left. I would suggest hurrying it up if you want to keep that meat suit.”

It’s nice to know that I can still strike fear into their pitch black hearts, because a super hunter has its advantages (working side by side with the Winchesters the number one perk), and I will have one year to kill as many as possible.

(and this horrid creature will be at the top of my list)

“Fine, slayer, you like all the others get one year and one year only, and then you’re gone. Understand?”

I should feel bad about giving away my soul, the one that has been slowly dying since it was brought back (only shining with him), but for him I would give it away each time.

“Perfectly.”

I grab hold of her meat suit and seal our deal with a kiss, while my other hand is dying to slice her throat, and walk straight into my fate.

(jumping over the edge but more slowly this time)

I find Dean where I left him, handcuffed to his car because he almost snuck of to kill himself for his baby brother (but I could never let him do that), and he can already tell what I’ve done.

(taken his place as the sacrifice)

“Please tell me that you didn’t do it, Buff.”

I break his chains, waiting for the yelling to start (indifferent to it all with Sammy and his bright blood clouding my mind) about how stupid I was, no longer afraid of him doing the stupid thing himself.

(after all I had put the sword to my breast first)

“I was not about to sit back and watch you die, Dean, it would have killed him.”

It was a hilarious thought that he would expect me to watch as he threw away his life, kissed away his tainted soul (mine isn’t very pretty either) for little brother.

“He’s been asking for you, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him yet.”

I couldn’t help but picture Dean handcuffed to his car, wanting to give a giant hug to his not-dead-anymore brother and not being able to, trying to hide it from Sammy.

(‘You can leave your car alone for a second; it won’t run away, Dean’)

“Don’t worry I’ll tell him, he needs to know.”

I didn’t show it but I’m terrified about telling him, that in one year all of this would come to a bloody end (he only has me for a limited time), what I had done for him.

“Get over here, now, Summers, you know how much I hate sappy moments.”

I moved in letting him give me the hug he had been dying to give me since the start of this hell, letting my poker face break free when I buried my face in his shoulder.

(glad to have someone who knew just how horrible it had felt, watching him die in my arms)

“And yet our lives are filled to the brim with them. You don’t have to thank me, Dean; I did it for myself as well.”

I nearly lose it when I see him breathing, and aiming those puppy dog eyes straight at my bruised heart (the one that broke when he shut his eyes for good), and can’t help but run into his open arms.

(trying not to break him with my breath stealing hug)

“Sammy.”

I can feel the scar on his back that once was a seeping wound, one that spilled his blood all over me and stole him away, and I try to no longer see his dead body.

(an image that will haunt me until the end of days)

“God, Buff, it feels like I haven’t seen you years.”

I feel the same, looking up into those eyes and seeing when the light had vanished from them (calling for me at the very end), and fall into my arms like it’s the last hug I will ever get.

(but I plan on having him in my arms a million more times before the end)

“I have something to tell you, baby, and it might be hard to hear.”

With him I can never keep my poker face intact, if anyone looked in on us they wouldn’t know that I was the slayer (miss I don’t give a damn about anything but killing), and it comes crashing to the ground.

(and spill my secrets to him like always)

“You know you can tell me anything, Buff, and nothing can change that.”

I want to lie through my teeth, tell him that everything will be fine if we’re together, but I can’t bring myself to do that.

(and I let my face fall completely as I tell him how our story will end)

“Sam, you died yesterday. You were stabbed in the back and I held you in my arms as you d-died.”

Bringing up that horrible night, where the ground ran red with his precious blood and I could do nothing but watch (not even the great slayer could safe him), nearly broke my heart all over again.

(but I made myself look at him very much alive he was and it kept the pain from coming back)

“But how am I still here?”

(because you are everything to me and I couldn’t bear to see you as a body)

“I sold my soul to bring you back, I gave up everything to save you, babe.”

It was the first time I said those words out loud, made the last few days not a horrible nightmare but reality, and it took me forever to let them out.

“No, that can’t be true, Buff. Why would you do that?”

He was waiting for me to say that I was lying, that my soul was untouched beneath my heart, but when he looked into my running eyes he knew that each word was truth.

“Because you are all I have left, Sammy, and I wasn’t about to let you go, I couldn’t.”

It’s hard to look at him as he breaks down in front of me (knowing deep down that it would have been worse if Dean had been in my place), his hands wrapped around me as I continue to tell him how I will die.

(most likely in his arms)

“How long?”

He watches me with tears threating to come spilling out, with his hands locked on mine like if he held me tight enough nothing could take me away from him, and it makes everything hurt even more.

(even so I would go back and sell my soul again to make sure his eyes were always open)

“One year, and I plan on spending it with you, every last second of it.”

Just like all the other times, always the strong one that gives up everything for those I love (and when I fall apart he’ll be here to put me back together again), I take him into my arms.

Glad that I am cradling a no longer cold Sam Winchester in my arms, and because of that I do not regret a single thing.

(even when those claws are ripping me into strips)