Title: The next morning
Fandom: Supernatural/Buffyverse
Characters: Dean, Siobhan
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. The Buffyverse is the creation of Joss Whedon. Siobhan and Aimee are my characters and were created specifically for this fic. Do not use them without talking to me first.
Rating: G
Word count: 2786
Prompt: 036 - Smell
Claim: Dean Winchester
Archive: Anywhere, just give credit where credit is due
Feedback: Yes, please! Send all comments to purenightshade@gmail.com
Summary: What’s a frustrated Slayer to do?
Author’s notes:

Siobhan woke the next morning with her head against a hard pillow that moved up and down in a steady rhythm. Her upper body had something wrapped loosely around it. She could smell something, too. It was an unfamiliar scent, but it smelled nice. She brought her hands up to rub her eyes. Beneath her head was a black shirt and there was a hand resting lightly on her waist. Slowly, she turned herself to look up. Seeing Dean immediately reminded her of what had happened the night before and she flushed with embarrassment, pulling away from him.

The movement woke him up. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from them. Seeing her, he smiled weakly. “Morning.”

Siobhan simply nodded rather than returning the smile. “Morning.”

“Feeling any better?”

“Not really.”

“Anything I can do?”

“You could start by taking your hand off my waist,” she suggested.

“Kill joy,” he muttered, moving his hand. Dean moved into a more comfortable sitting position. “Did you sleep ok?”

“You make a lousy pillow.”

“Really? That’s too bad. You made a great blanket. Most women I know get really cold when they’re asleep. You were really warm.”

Siobhan shrugged. “I just have a higher body temperature than most people do. It’s nothing really all that unusual. Everyone else in my family is like that.”

“But you slept ok?”

“Why do you care?”

“Boy, do you ever have short term memory issues. I told you before, I really like you. That means I care, alright?”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” she muttered.

“Could you just answer the question?”

“Why? It’s much more amusing watching you squirm.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t funny.”

She made an innocent face. “It’s not?”

He snarled and moved so that he was straddling her. “No, it’s not. You’re being deliberately evasive.”

“About time you figured that out. Now, get off.”

He grinned. “I’d love to, but the positioning is all wrong.”

She stared at him. “What?” Then it hit her. “Dean! Get off me!”

“Why don’t you make me?”

“If I make you, I’ll break something. If you want to avoid getting any broken bones, get off me.”

He looked thoughtful. “No, I don’t think you’ll do that.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because if you didn’t care about breaking my bones or hurting me, you would have already thrown me through a wall or something.”

“Don’t we have an over inflated sense of self-worth.”

“This is starting to sound exactly like the conversation we had last night.”

“I’m getting tired of this.” With no difficulty whatsoever, Siobhan moved, shoving Dean off to the side, completely reversing their positions. She grabbed his wrists without bothering to be gentle about it and pinned him to the couch.

Dean tried not to wince at the strength of the grip that had him effectively trapped. “Y’know, there are worse things in life than being pinned to a couch by a hot chick who just happens to be straddling you.”

“Call me a hot chick again and I’ll break your wrists,” she threatened.

“And people call me quick tempered.”

“Don’t you get it yet? I don’t make threats, Dean, I make promises. I always keep my promises.”

“So if you promised to strip me naked and have hot sex with me, you’d keep it?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Momentary insanity?”

“Sounds to me like you’re the one who’s insane.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“Looks like you failed to pay any attention to it.”

“Not failed; chose not to. I know who I am and I have confidence in it.”

“I call that ego.”

“Call it what you want; it looks like you could use a good dose or two of it.”

“I’m fine with the way I am.”

“If that were true, would you really have broken down in tears and cried yourself to sleep on my shoulder?” That stopped her as the memory of it returned to her. She let go and got up off the couch. She took a few steps back from him, looking very confused. Dean stood as well, but didn’t try approaching her. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Dean, don’t try to fix me. You can’t; no one can.”

“I don’t think you’re broken, Siobhan. I just think you’re a little damaged. Bruised, maybe. Didn’t your parents ever kiss your injuries away?”

“I’m twenty five, not five,” she reminded him sharply.

“Are you sure about that?”

Siobhan fished around in her back pocket and pulled out her wallet. After examining the contents, she looked up again. “Says here I am.”

He rolled his eyes. “Smart ass.”

“Bitch,” she retorted.



“Hottie,” he said, walking up to her.”


“Never,” he said firmly right before he pulled her into his arms to kiss her again. She fought him this time, pulling back out of his embrace.

“Do that again and I’ll-”

He didn’t give her the chance to finish the threat or promise or whatever it was. He grabbed and held onto her as hard as he could figuring that she could take it. It was hard, balancing his want for her with trying not to get himself killed, never mind trying to show her his feelings while not being overly aggressive in the process. Nope. It wasn’t an easy thing to do at all. With every second he had his lips on hers he became increasingly sure that any moment now she was going to break free and pummel him senseless. He broke the kiss after a while but didn’t let go. He whispered in her ear, “You’ll do what, exactly?”

Siobhan’s mind had completely frozen when he’d grabbed her. Her mind didn’t want this, wanted to break Dean in half for daring, but the rest of her had other ideas. Her body knew exactly where this was going. Since it hadn’t gone there in a very, very long time, it was more than happy to give into it and to hell what the person at the helm wanted. When Dean spoke to her it took a few moments for it to even register.

“Don’t.” She managed to squeak out even as her hands were taking on a life of their own, wrapping around Dean’s waist.

“Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t speak?”

She looked at him with panicked, tearful eyes, pleading silently with him to let her go since she couldn’t seem to work her voice any more. Dean was more than a little confused. Her eyes said stop but her hands demanded more. Reluctantly, Dean let her go and stepped back to the couch. She collapsed limply to the floor.

He sat down and watched her closely. “Care to explain?”

For a long time, she just sat there in silence as the tears slowly ran down her cheeks. He watched, unwilling for once to go near her. Finally, he got up and went into the bathroom, coming back with a cool, damp face cloth and a glass of water. He knelt down in front of her and set the glass of water on the floor. She just stared at the cloth, so he folded it up into a smaller square and gently wiped the tears away, wiping her face down. He then handed her the cup of water, which she took and drank down.

“I don’t know if I can explain,” she said in a voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if she’d spoken.

“What happened just now? Your face said one thing and your hands something completely different.”

“It’s…not easy for me to talk about this.”

“I’d appreciate it if you did. I’m really confused here. I haven’t gotten mixed signals this bad since high school.”

Her lips twitched a little in what might have almost been a smile. “You remember what Aimee told you about my past? About…about Daniel.”

“The name you kept me from saying last night.”

She nodded glumly. “It’s been a little more than three months since…since we were together. After we…split up things got really dark for me.”

“Aimee said that you went pretty much suicidal,” Dean offered.

She looked up sharply. “That’s one way of looking at it, yes. In truth, it was darker than that.”

“Darker than wanting to kill yourself?”

“It’s not something I can really explain to someone who wasn’t there and didn’t know…him the way I did. Hell, you don’t even know what was going on between us and I’m not inclined to talk about it with anyone.”

“Aimee seemed to know some stuff.”

“Aimee was there, she read my journal. Besides, she’s my best friend. We tell each other pretty much everything. That’s just how it works.” She took a breath. “Anyways, I was in a very bad, very dark place. In a lot of ways, I never left that place. I still hurt. I look at men and I want to be sick. The ones I knew before Daniel are ok to hang around, but new people…you, Sam, others…it’s really hard.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Siobhan-”

“Don’t. I don’t want your pity, your sympathy, your…well, your anything.”

“I don’t pity you and I can’t sympathize having never been in that kind of situation. The only woman I was ever serious about dumped me after I told her what I do. She thought I was lying, trying to get out of the relationship, so she dumped me.”

“How sad,” she said dryly.

He looked hurt. “Think what you want of me, but I loved her. I really did. When I saw her again, the spark was still there, but it wasn’t the same as it was. We parted on a better note, but it was a definite end.”

“I didn’t think you were capable of loving a woman.”

“I love you,” he said softly, looking her in the eye. Experience had taught him that looking into a woman’s eyes when speaking to her tended to get things across better. He’d had much more luck with women since he learned that.

Again, she stared. “You what?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

“You don’t even know me.”

“So? At least I’ve known you longer than a few hours.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve used that ploy to get women to sleep with you.”

“Only a few times and only when I’ve been really, really drunk,” he admitted without being even remotely apologetic about it. “That’s in my past. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed of it either. It’s done and over with.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that way about you at all,” she said stiffly.

“I gathered that much already. I’m not as smart as Sammy, but I’m not as dense as people make me out to be.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You don’t need to insult me.”

“No, I don’t, but you’re such an easy target.”

Changing the subject, Dean asked, “So last night when you said that you couldn’t have what you wanted, what were you talking about?”

She sighed. “Well, continuing on with what I’m trying to tell you, though I’m really not sure why I’m bothering, one of the other side effects of the break up is that I’ve been…alone for the last three months. Surrounded by people, but alone and completely celibate.”

“If you feel sick looking at men, I can only imagine what trying to sleep with one would be like.”

She nodded. “I tried a few times after some particularly rough hunts, but it always ended with him being extremely frustrated and me spending the night with my head in a bucket.”

“Why after a hunt?”

“Slaying has some interesting side effects on a Slayer’s body. Faith put it best. Slaying makes you hungry and horny.”

“Boy I bet that’s frustrating for you.”

“You have no idea. I’ve managed to keep myself from getting too involved in the hunt, but it’s really hard.”

“There are other alternatives to finding a one night stand kind of guy.”

“Unfortunately, one of those two options just doesn’t do it and I’m way too straight for the other.”

“Just thought I’d bring it up.” He paused. “Did you feel sick at all when I touched you?”

She thought about it. “I was a little too surprised to feel anything the first time and too exhausted to feel anything when I fell asleep on your shoulder.”

“What about today?” he pressed.

“I was angry when you pinned me and angrier when you kissed me. When you grabbed me the second time…my mind went numb and my body on auto pilot. You asked me earlier what I wanted but couldn’t have? There you go.”

“Sex,” he replied simply. At her nod, he spread his arms out. “I’m not doing anything.”

“It’s not that simple. My body wants it, but my mind is too repulsed by the idea to let it happen.”

“Maybe it’s time to let your body take over,” he suggested. “Your body knows what it wants, what it needs, but you won’t let it do what it needs.”

“It’s not that simple,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Yes, it is. Just let go.”

She laughed bitterly. “My parents have been telling me that for three months. They don’t know about the Slayer part of the story and there are things about this that I can’t tell them, so their advice is pretty much useless.”

Dean reached out to stroke her cheek with one finger. Her skin twitched slightly beneath his, but she didn’t look ill and she didn’t pull away. “Tell me, have you been trying to get it on with people you can tolerate?”

“That’s generally the idea, yes.”

“Has it ever occurred to you to try it with someone you don’t like?”

“Why would I even consider something like that?”

“Change of pace, perhaps? I don’t know, Siobhan. If you need the release so badly that your body was doing what it was doing earlier in order to get it, then maybe you need to change your tactics. It’s easier to do that than to change the way you think. Anyways, what do I know, right? I’m just a guy. I don’t pretend to understand how you women work at all. Look, if you’re willing, if you want to, I’m here. I’m not saying making this offer for my own benefit, though I can’t deny that there is a benefit to me in this; I’m offering because you need this. You can’t live like this. Sooner or later, you’re going to break down and it won’t be pretty. Just…just give me a chance.” He got up and sat down on the couch.

Siobhan continued to sit on the floor, staring at her hands. The expression on her face clearly indicated that she was thinking and thinking hard. She glanced up at Dean every so often. After what felt like an eternity to Dean, she got up and sat down on the couch beside him. Not touching him in any way, but she sat there, her thigh mere inches from his own. She put her hands in her lap and looked at the opposite wall.

“I still don’t like you.”

“I can live with that.”

“I’m not doing this for you.”

“I know.”

Pause. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do I have to make you a mix tape first?”

“No one makes mix tapes anymore.”


“It’s all on CD now.”

“That’s lame.”

“No, that’s technology.”

They sat in silence for a while. “So you want to go out for dinner or something?”

“Dinner is good,” she agreed.

“So dinner, then back here?”

“Sounds fine. Giles set you to ‘guard’ me, so there shouldn’t be any conflict.” She shrugged. “Should anything happen, we should be able to take care of it between the two of us.”

“It’s a plan then.”

“You said plan.”

“I wanted to say date, but thought better of it.”

“Good idea.” She paused and then scooted closer to him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. Dean put his arm around her. Lightly at first, but when she didn’t even blink, he held her more firmly. They sat that way for most of the morning, getting up only to have lunch. Afterwards, they sat back down on the couch, this time in a more cuddly position. Dean stroked her hair, enjoying the feel of it beneath her fingers.

“Dean?” she said suddenly.


“I’m scared.”

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I know; it’s ok.”

She nodded and said nothing more until it was time to get ready to go.

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