Dean’s grip on Buffy’s wrist was unfaltering even as the door shut behind her. She was walking willingly, matching Dean’s stride across the dirt that they all called Bobby’s driveway. It was almost like she was expecting this reaction, and was going through the motions of how it was playing out. It was like she didn’t give a damn, and that bothered him even more. His pace quickened, both of them wordless as he pulled her toward the first of three of Bobby’s garages. He didn’t want to be speechless, but he couldn’t say what he wanted…needed to say in front of a crowd of people.
He couldn’t say it in front of Sam. Bobby. The watcher. Not that they didn’t already know. The look on Sam’s face when he made brief eye contact with his brother was telling enough. That momentary look of shock that transitioned into sadness and sympathy. The unspoken promise that he’d be against the idea as long as Dean was.
“We all know where this is going. If that Hellmouth opens and we don’t do anything about it, we’re all going to die. There isn’t another option.” Her arms crossed as she paced the floor, a deep breath before she stopped, and squared her figure in front of the crowd that was listening.
Dean, up until that point was not. He was against the door frame, looking out the window. Trying to convince himself that him knocking on her door was the right thing to do. “It won’t kill me straight off. It’ll give you guys enough time…”
At that point, Dean’s senses had muted from his own shock, and It took a very brief delay for him to comprehend what came out of her mouth. When he finally translated what it meant, he sprang into action pulling her from the situation like they were in the middle of a fire. It was an instant reaction. A compelling need to try and diffuse the situation, pull her from it. Erase the words that had already been said.
It wasn’t until they rounded the corner did he let her go, spinning on his heel. The thirty seconds he had of silence leading her to this place was immediately eliminated when he caught her eyes with his. Those goddamn eyes that expressed nothing but a calm, warm, sad look. …And it fucking pissed him off. His heart was through his throat, and his stomach clenched so hard that it felt like if he opened his mouth, he was going to puke up every bit of liquor he’d had for the day.
“…What the hell was that?!” He pointed to the house, taking a step closer to her, eliminating the gap between them. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t swallow, or express any form of regret. His voice, however, spoke a volume that could write a book. Buffy’s wrist had fallen to her side, her posture tired, but still strong. She kept her eyes glued on his, and kept her mouth shut.
When Buffy talked, people listened. That’s just the way it went with her. She had a natural way with people, whether she knew them or not. She talked to them with so much compassion and empathy, that you’d think she’d gone through whatever trial you were going through. It was a gravitational pull about her that made people want to know what she had to say. It was a characteristic that mirrored his brother’s, and most of the time, it was helpful. Most of the time, Buffy could convince anyone to pretty much do anything.
…Most of the time, Dean loved to hear her speak her mind. He loved for her to tell him what she thought about a particular situation, and whether he agreed with her or not, he listened.
But this time? No. This time, he hated her for it.
“Dean.” Her voice was light, still full of that fucking sympathy. In that one syllable, she asked Dean to listen. She asked him to calm down.
“No, goddammit! Answer me.” His emotions were screaming at her. The part of him he tried so hard to keep buried just exploded out of him in waves. I didn’t drag you back here to die. I dragged you out here because I need you. Not because I need you dead. You’re not allowed to die. You can’t die.
“You know as well as I do this is our only defense left, Dean. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is what I was created for. We’re on the verge of a war. It’s time we start looking at the big picture,” Dean closed his eyes slowly, trying to steady his emotions and keep a level head. This wasn’t happening. This was some sort of fucked up dream. She was still lying next to him, her face in a sedated peace. Her head was still on his chest, and he could feel her steady breath on him. “We can’t be selfish about this and you know it. There’s just too much at stake here.” For the first time, her calm had a lining of pain around it. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it. The only reason he did was because it reflected the way he’s spoken before. There is no such thing as abiding strength. Sooner or later, everything falls. Even the strongest person he’d ever known had a breaking point. She’d never admit it, but this was the last thing that she wanted to do. She was doing it because she had no other choice.
“No.” His eyes opened again, landing on her face. No. Not her. Not now. Not after all they’d been through. He was ending this conversation. “Fuck no. I’m not allowin’ it.”
“You can’t stop me.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but her armor was weakening. Her voice shook, and he could see her eyes glossing.
It strengthened even more the reason why he was going to find a way to stop this.
She told him last night that she loved him. She’d let him touch her last night even after all he’d put her through. They’d had a falling out, and he left her standing on a porch of her former life without looking back. Last night, she’d forgiven him for it. She’d let him touch her like he’d longed to do ever since he rounded the corner and out of her life a year ago.
Buffy had already thought this through, and she’d concluded her life would be over in a matter of days. He’d played right into it.
She was right, though. Deep, deep down, he knew it. But he’d die before he’d allow it. The one woman he’d ever been capable of loving so completely wasn’t going to die because he couldn’t find a way to save her. He’d only just gotten her back a week ago. And now, he was regretting it. If he hadn’t been so weak…
He spoke with anger. Furious at the situation. Furious with himself for putting her in a situation where she had to come to this decision. What came out of his mouth wasn’t at all what he wanted to say.
“You can’t wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one to bury you. You’re freaking selfish, you know that? How the hell do you expect me to just stand by and let you die?”
He instantly regretted his words, because she didn’t speak with an edge of fear anymore. It was an anger that had clearly been pent up for a while.
“You’re the one who dragged me back into this, Dean! I’m just trying to finish it! What did you expect to happen here, huh? You sped out of my life like I was some sort of disease. It took you a year to come back. And then, you only came to me because you needed help. I’m glad you did. ..But Dean, you’re not allowed to tell me no. You lost that right a year ago,”
Those words were sharp, but the tears that came with them were devastating.
“You asked for my help, and I’m going to finish it. I’m giving us the only option we have left.”
