Bending to Break

Chapter 3

Approximately eight hours later....

"I should have known." Sam croaked out hoarsely, his fatigue echoed in his words. "I mean I felt something and I didn't say anything until it was too late."

Sam rubbed his shoulder as he spoke, doing his best to ease the ache from when he'd tried to force his way inside of the locked bedroom with sheer strength. It hadn't budged and neither had the powerful wards Giles had tried to break through.

Giles closed his eyes, pushing past the reverberating sound of moans and grunts that had been seemingly non-stop since he had arrived after Willow's frantic phone call. He'd lay down his life for his Slayer, but having to listen to her in the throws of passion... it seemed indecent. She was a daughter to him, and no father should have to listen to the obscenities coming from her mouth. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to concentrate on something that they might have over looked.

"Sam, you can't blame yourself. You are still learning to harness your powers. You've made a lot of progress in the last two months. Right now we need to focus. What haven't we tried?"

Willow groaned, her eyes fluttering as she lifted her head from the table. She looked across at Giles, the man who had become a father of sorts to her. His hair was a nice shade of light brown, starting to gray around the edges from age and stress. Even tired and worn out, he still had an air of calm sophistication about him. His thin wire rimmed glasses were perched on his nose, hiding his clear blue eyes.

"I could try and..." Willow started, hating the useless feeling that was inside of her.

Giles shook his head; "Willow it’s not safe, not when we don't know what we are dealing with. There are dark magic's involved here; surely you must feel it. Buffy wouldn't forgive me if I let something happen to you. While this situation is serious, I do not believe it is dire. They are still alive... and apparently... still going strong."

Sam gave Willow an apologetic smile, knowing how hard it was for Willow to sit back and doing nothing more but flip through countless books on love spells. She felt the same sort of protectiveness for Buffy that he felt for Dean. He was about to suggest something: a possible way to counter the ward that had been placed on the bedroom when he heard the front door slam open with a rattling force.

"Where is he?" Came the angry voice of John Winchester, looking pissed as hell as he clutched Dean's leather jacket in his hand. "What in the hell is going on here?"

"How nice of you to show up, Dad." Sam snapped, feeling bitterness creep upon him as he stood from his chair and regarded his father.


* * *

Dean came with one last final powerful thrust, exploding in a never-ending stream of white-hot pleasure and it felt like his soul was being ripped from his body in the process. Dean groaned Buffy’s name like it was a prayer, and it had been. His hips bucked against her heat on instinct, his mind racing with blinding pleasure. Her nails trailed a fiery wake down the corded sweat slicked surface of his back as she clutched onto him as if she was dying. Buffy tightened around him, her back bowing as she gasped and fought for breath.

“Yes Dean! Gods yes!” Buffy screamed breathlessly as the same soul wrenching feeling of euphoria shot through her.

Dean let his head fall forward into the crook of her neck in exhaustion, heat emanating from every pore on his body as he panted and wheezed. Stifling heat engulfed him, his moist hot breath trapped in the space between the bed and her shoulder where Dean finally felt a sense of himself return.

Before there had been the insistence, the whispering of a foreign song in his head urging him on, telling him to bring her again and again. The only thing Dean heard in his brain right now was his heartbeat. He felt the light trailing of Buffy’s fingers against his back, stroking up and down as her depths continued to flutter around him in delicious aftershocks that gripped and elongated his ecstasy.

Dean breathed deeply as he used all of his strength to roll off the sweaty slayer and onto his back.

“Wow.” Dean whistled as his lips curved into a wicked grin of pure male delight.

He moved his hands behind his head, a replacement for the pillow that had been thrown from the bed sometime turning their tryst. Dean closed his fluttering eyes as he focused on the heavy thrum of his blood that charged through him.

Buffy panted beside him, haphazardly tugging the slate blue cotton sheet up over her heaving breasts as she stared dreamily up towards the ceiling. Her lips, full and swollen, were curved into a lazy grin of pure and total satisfaction. She took in a few deep breaths, calming the racing beat of her heart that pulsed through her entire body. The heat, the fire that had consumed her in an overwhelming need to feel Dean inside of her had faded, a little, and Buffy felt nothing but the hazy fog of post copulation swirling around in her mind.

“Yeah… wow.” Buffy answered as her eye lashes fluttered against her brow.

Dean let out a soft whistle and shook his head, his smile contagious. One by one the muscles in his body that had been numb with need started to tingle, regaining feeling. The heat, the passionate urge to touch Buffy slowly started to fade away until it was only a dull ache inside of his bones.

He closed his eyes, his heart pounding as he breathed, “That was…” Words just couldn’t express the thoughts crossing through his mind. The insistent whispering dulled, and for the first time in hours Dean was finally able to grasp his own thoughts, thoughts that were still consumed by Buffy and the soft heat of her wrapped around him. Damn. All he could think about was the feeling of home. She was home. Double damn.

“Really bad.” Buffy finished, grinning from ear to ear when she said it.

Dean rolled onto his side, the sheet that covered his abdomen shifting lower to expose the curve of his hip. Buffy rolled towards him, her eyes slowly moving over the toned sight of his body. It looked different somehow - like she was looking at him through different eyes. A flutter of want moved through her as Buffy remembered her fingers moving over his hip, as she remembered her mouth and teeth trailing down the trail of hair that led to his…

“Bad as in whoops I cheated on my taxes bad, or bad as in whoops I cut off my foot and I’m bleeding to death bad.” Dean’s lips curved into a slow grin as he slid his legs together, the hair tickling his still sensitive skin.

The hem on the sheet that Buffy was so focused on shifted just a little bit lower. Through the sheet Buffy could make out the soft swell of flesh that she was now knew very intimately. If Dean moved just a little bit more, Buffy wouldn’t have to look at the silhouette.

Buffy shook her head, her fingers clutching onto the sheet as she shifted her own legs together in an attempt to quell the lingering wisps of need that still pulsed through her. Her thighs, just now starting to ache, pressed the swollen sticky flesh of her womanhood together. Buffy groaned, her eyes rolling back a bit as a flash of pain shot up through her core that hadn’t been there before. That pain morphed into something else and Buffy felt her abused insides start to moisten at the thought of Dean and the hours she’d just spent with him.

How could she possibly want him again?

Was it the remaining effects of the succubus still sparking through her veins? It had to be. Buffy shut her eyes, searching for that need that she had been frenzied with but found nothing but her own want. That whispering, that shroud of haze that had surrounded them was gone, and Buffy couldn’t tell what were her own feelings and what was the passion forced upon them.

Buffy rolled her eyes up Dean’s chest, ignoring the tiny imprints of her teeth that littered his golden red skin until she met his amused grin. His eyes twinkled in mischief, and Buffy felt her heart palpitate in her chest.

She’d never seen Dean so… so unguarded. His hair was a complete wreck, stuck up at several angles. His lips were swollen and dark, and his smile, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen was making her stomach flutter. There was laziness in his eyes, sated, and it made his hazel eyes look greener, less brown. It was the first time, Buffy mused, that she didn’t feel like smacking him upside the head.

“Bad as in that really shouldn’t have felt that…”

Dean’s smile beamed a little brighter, making Buffy suck in a breath. A wave of desire passed through Dean’s stomach and into his groin at the sparkling look of lust that crossed through Buffy’s mossy depths. He reached over, his hand settling on her slender hip as he pulled her towards him. It was the first time in hours that it didn’t hurt to be separated from her, yet at the same time there was a different kind of an ache he felt at not touching her.

“Bad. It definitely felt very bad.” Dean joked as he rolled Buffy further onto her side and slid his legs between hers so that his soft spongy hair tickled against her smooth calf.

Buffy scooted over a little closer to him out of instinct, her hand soft as she set it on his arm and moved it up towards his shoulder. His skin was warm under her palm, no longer scorching, just pure male muscular flesh that somehow felt more real then it had an hour ago. Dean’s muscles twitched under her touch as she trailed her fingers softly back down his arm. It was a lover’s caress, gentle and caring, and Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Buffy smirked, blinking lazily at him as she slid her thigh between his legs and against his soft member, “Definitely bad.” She agreed.

Dean moved closer, his hand on her hip curving to her lower back so that his manhood moved to rest between the heat of her center that still throbbed in aroused flesh. She was sticky with his seed, and Dean closed his eyes as his blood picked up in his veins. That was them; evidence of their passion, of the heat that been almost unbearable. Almost. Dean’s fingers inched lower, cupping a smooth firm ass cheek in his palm.

Lust moved through him, feelings that had nothing to do with the succubus’ pull that he was pretty sure had vanished and everything to do with the blonde in front of him. He could still feel Buffy, her heat, and her desire. He could still feel her pleasure in his veins; hell, he could taste it in his mouth. Dean’s lips were soft on Buffy’s collar, his tongue slowly lapping out to taste the skin he’d already memorized.

His lips slowly moved up the side of her neck, passing over the bruising marks his mouth had left on her skin. A small sense of pride washed over him, knowing that he’d left something behind, that after this, after the succubus had finally left him, he’d still be imprinted on her like she was on him. Buffy moaned softly, her neck arching to the side as she let her hand move to cup the firm globes of his ass under the sheet, holding him against her. Buffy pressed his lower half against her, rolling her hips as she felt him harden and curve against her tender flesh.

“So this, “ Buffy purred racking her nails over his buttocks, “is what a sex sucking thing-y does? I mean is it still here…?”

Dean rolled Buffy beneath him, loving how supple her flesh was against his hard body. He could feel her now that he wasn’t so distracted with the need to be inside of her. That need was gone, replaced with something else, something confusing and something that didn’t quite add up. He shouldn’t still want her like this.

Beneath him, she was all muscles and lithe lines, a huntress, but all of that was so damn soft. Her skin, her fingers, her mouth, it was addicting and despite the pain that now radiated from his body, he wanted to feel her skin against his.

Buffy moaned, loving his masculine weight and the hard lines of his well defined body as he pushed her into the mattress. This, Buffy mused, was almost better then sex. She could feel his heart beating against her chest. The rough scruff that covered his jaw rubbed against Buffy’s neck, making her arch into him. She could feel his breath, warm, against her neck as he pressed open mouthed kisses that made her breath quicken.

Something was different, but Buffy couldn’t put her finger on it. Shouldn’t she feel consumed? Shouldn’t her skin feel like it was on fire like all of the other times? Shouldn’t her body be numb with pleasure? Right now it was prickling with arousal that was slow and seductive so that Buffy couldn’t help it when her thighs parted to allow room for Dean’s hips.

Dean’s lips moved over her cheek, his fingers tugging on the sheet tangled between them, tearing it away so that it was just flesh against flesh. His arms flexed, resting on either side of her body as he thrust his hips against the juncture of her thighs, his erect member rubbing against her clit. Both hissed a little, feeling a certain realistic pain that hadn’t been there before.

Somewhere they both knew there weren’t up to doing it again, that his bodies’ reaction betrayed the energy neither one of them possessed to complete anything more but the need to be close.

Their lips met, slowly pressing together as Buffy rolled her tongue into Dean’s mouth. They kissed softly, the urgency that had been between them drained, and the only thing that was left was the soft duel of their mouths. Dean’s hands rose, cupping Buffy’s face with a deep throaty moan against her mouth. His teeth dragged along her lower lip, pulling away for just a moment until their heads realigned and their lips met at a new angle. They kissed softly, tenderly, mouths moving in a slow leisured pace that belittled what they should have been feeling if they were still in the succubus’ grasp.

Dean moved his hands from her cheek as he stroked her arms. Tenderly he moved his hands to her side, cupping them beneath her as he cradled her in his arms, their kiss continuing for long minutes of swallowed moans.

A bird chirped in the distance, catching Dean’s attention as he pulled away panting from Buffy’s mouth to stare out of the window. Buffy followed his lead, turning her head to see what he was looking at. A confused look knitted across their faces as bright daylight filtered into the bedroom to cover them in a glow of morning light.

They both looked back to each other, the echoing sound of voices carrying up from downstairs. For the first time in hours, they were aware of their environment, aware of the audience that lingered downstairs. Buffy could suddenly feel the tension, her slayer senses spiking at the worry and concern that was heavy in the house. Had they been there all night?

Dean rolled off of Buffy once more, groaning as a heavy wave of pain rolled through him when he flexed his muscles. The pleasure that had moved them and had given him an inhuman stamina was fading fast as was his erection.

“It doesn’t make sense. We should be dead.” Dean shook his head, trying to grasp around the facts.

There was no explanation other than a succubus… but why were they still alive?

“Is that what it does?” Buffy asked softly as the repercussions of their coupling started to sink in. She’d had sex with Dean. She spent the entire night screaming, moaning, writhing, and acting out all her carnal passion with a man she supposedly hated.

“Normally, it chooses a victim and uses sex to drain them until they are dead. And unless I’ve died and gone to heaven…”

Buffy laughed bitterly, the sound thickly saccharine as she moved the sheet back up her body in a self-conscious move. She gave a firm tug, taking more of the sheet to tuck it around her aching body. She hurt, from her toes to her head, and it was the things in between that were really starting to throb. Buffy closed her eyes, hoping against all hope that she’d just disappear.

“Oh that’s good Dean,” Buffy snapped her head to the side, “Do you use that line often?”

Dean shrugged, saying everything and nothing, as he picked up the hostile note in her voice. Playtime, he guessed, was officially over. Not that he’d expected it to last: the sweet look of carelessness on her face, the twinkle in her eye, the feel of her breast pushing against his chest as she tangled her tongue with this. This morning - whatever had just happened between them - was an anomaly he was going to blame on the succubus and her lingering influence. It was like a little ‘fuck you’ that Dean couldn’t wait to repay the succubus for. As soon as he could walk he was going to hunt it down and kill it.

“You don’t just get to waltz in here and tell me what to do!” Sam’s angry echoed through the house.

Dean winced, hearing his father’s angry voice echo louder over Sam’s, “You are a hunter damn it, a solider, and you are all Dean has to watch his back. How could you let this happen? Why weren’t you there? He could be dead for all we know and you’re just sitting down here doing nothing!”

“Doing nothing! I’ve been up the entire night looking for something, anything that could help un-ward that damn door! You’re the one who left; you’re the one who wasn’t here to watch his back! Do you think it’s easy for him? Jesus dad!” Sam yelled back, louder and angrier.

Dean shook his head, dragging a hand down his face, his hand scratching against the rough scruff that had grown during the night. He tossed a head over his shoulder at Buffy who had rolled away from him.

“I should go assure them we aren’t dead, and stop Sammy from killing my Dad.” Dean said, and suddenly sounded tired.

He was always the one to keep the peace, to look after both his younger brother and his father. Sam was right, it wasn’t easy for him, but it’s what he did. Nothing mattered to him more than his family.

Dean got up out of bed, his legs shaky against the ground as a hiss of pain shot through his over used muscles. Buffy turned her head at his hiss, watching as the sheet fell from his backside to give her a glimpse of his tight behind and muscular thighs. Quickly, Buffy turned her head back around. Even though she’d seen every inch of him, tasted almost as much, it was wrong to look at him in that light now that the thrall had passed.

An ugly truth washed over her, and Buffy realized that this morning, kissing him, loving the feel of his mouth on hers, had nothing to do with the succubus and everything to do with her own lusty desires. Passion. She felt it spark whenever she looked at him, when she sparred with him, when she argued with him, and right now, that scared the shit out of her.

“I’m gonna…” Buffy stuttered through the sudden awkwardness, “I’m just gonna clean up a little. I’m a bit… sticky,” she couldn’t do this, Buffy mused, “from the… ya know. Yeah.”

Dean’s bare feet padded across the cool floor and over to the dresser. He turned his head around, his eyes moving over Buffy’ bare back. She was sitting up, her back towards him, and the sheet pooled low so that he could see the twin dimples above her delicious rear. Her hair, damn and clumped in straggling curls hung down to the middle of her back and rested against her spine.

Dean turned back around, pulling a pair of soft blue hospital pants up his legs with a hint of anger. She’d pulled away, he’d felt it, and while he understood it, it pissed him off for some reason he didn’t want to get into. What had he really expected?

Dean ruffled through the drawer until he found a white tee shirt. The muscles in his arms flexed as he stretched the cotton over his head and drew it down his back. He ran a hand through his hair, making the strands even messier then they already were.

His hand paused on the doorknob, a spark of electricity jumping through him as he contemplated saying something to ease the sudden tension. They’d been fine in their own bubble. After he killed the succubus, he was going after the bird. Dean opened the door, a gust of chilled air wafting from the hallway to mix with the stale sex-laced air of the bedroom.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, leaving Buffy alone in the bedroom and Dean winced as he walked down the stairs, stopping at the restroom for just moment, and then made his way into the kitchen where the angry voices had started to get more hostile.

All sound stopped as Dean assumed a brave face and casually strolled into the kitchen.

"It wasn't a lust spell, it was a succubus. We ran into one on patrol last night and then wham bam thank you ma'am." Dean offered with a smug smile, hiding the heavy beat in his heart at the memories of Buffy that were too fresh in his mind.

Dean knew, somewhere, that it wasn’t just a succubus. The energy, the passion… it was more than that, and something that Dean wasn’t sure how to explain.

Something had been nagging in his mind since Buffy asked about what the succubae did; there was something that wasn’t adding up. Since when did a succubae target a couple? Not that he and Buffy were a couple…

Dean closed his eyes, should he still be feeling like this? Like he wanted to go back up stairs and run his lips down Buffy’s spine? Dean ignored the open mouths of Willow, Giles, Sam and his father. He reached into the fridge, soft yellow light bathing him as he rummaged around for something to quell the sudden hunger that was making his stomach grumble.

He pulled back with a shiny green apple and a false smile as he shut the fridge and turned back to face his audience. He leaned back against the closed fridge, his shirt, which Dean now realized was his brother’s and thus too small, straining and tight against his muscles as he brought the apple to his mouth.

"Do you happen to know which one we are dealing with?" Sam asked seriously, his dark brown eyes roving over Dean for any apparent damage.

The crisp sound of Dean’s teeth sinking into the tart apple filled the silence as older Winchester brother gave an indifferent shrug that said he had no idea. Dean's teeth ground against the apple, sweet juice coating the inside of his parched throat and dampening the lingering taste that Buffy had left in his mouth. If he could erase her from his senses, maybe his mind would follow.

"How many of these things are out there?" Dean asked through a mouth full of food.

Sam shook his head with an amused smile, same old Dean, as his fingers flew over the keyboard, searching for any type of information he could find.

“Are you feeling any lasting effects... is Buffy alright?” Giles asked with a grave seriousness as he rose from his place at the dining room table that Dean realized he’d eaten only a few meals at.

Dean nodded looking around at the tired faces and felt a sense of nagging guilt. Sam’s eyes were droopy; the shade of his dark orbs just a tiny bit faded and rimmed with red spidery veins. Dean had seen that look many times through the years, and knew his brother had been up all night.

Willow sat next to Sam, their chairs almost touching as she rested a comforting hand on is shoulder. Her strawberry-red hair was short and choppy, disheveled like she’d just woken up, but Dean knew that wasn’t true. In the weeks he’d spent here, he’d really connected with the witch, and knew that she’d stuck it, pitching in where she could.

Buffy’s watcher stood primly across from them, his glasses resting on a pile of books that were all opened in various places. There was a mug of what Dean knew was tea. At this hour, having had to listen to him and Buffy all night, Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if weren’t laced with something stronger, something that the Watcher kept hidden in the cabinet above the stove.

John, Dean’s father who they’d hadn’t seen for the past two months stood at the other end of the kitchen, his full beard covered face haggard and aged. Dean met his eyes, and felt his dad’s anger fade away to pure fatherly concern. Dean felt a pull at his heart, in the recent months there had been a change in his dad, one that he, and especially Sam, was struggling through. Somehow they’d become his first priority, and it was hard to get used to.

Dean took a ravenous bite, speaking with a mouth full of apple as he tried to calm them all down, “She’s fine. Just, ah, cleaning up a bit and... And as for lasting effects... I ah... I don’t think so. The heat and whispering are gone. I feel like I can think, but can't stop thinking..." Dean trailed off, deciding not to go there. It was none of their business and Dean's words went another route, "It was crazy; I mean we just couldn't stop. It was overwhelming, the heat, the passion, the..."

Dean’s words drifted off as Buffy strolled into the kitchen looking more beautiful then he'd ever seen her. Her face was freshly scrubbed and her hair pulled up in a messy knot that made her look younger than he knew she was. Dean watched as she uncomfortably tugged at the collar on her ivory turtleneck that she’d thrown on and assumed it was to hide the numerous bruising marks that he’d left. She was wearing a pair of form fitting black cargo pants, and all Dean could focus on was what he knew as underneath it.

"Enough. Please, just don't say another word about it." Buffy grumbled, hugging her arms around her waist self-consciously.

Buffy cast her eyes towards the ground, a slight hitch in her walk as her thighs pressed against the now throbbing flesh between her legs. Pain, worse than what she’d felt after her first time, throbbed through her.

“Where’s Dawnie?” Buffy asked softly, her voice husky and hoarse from screaming.

When her voice cracked, Buffy felt a new wave of heat creep up her neck. God, had they been here the entire time listening to her scream and pant out Dean's name? Worried and thinking she was going to sex herself to death like she’d almost done with Riley? God, why did these things always happen to her?

Buffy chanced a look at their tired faces and knew that they’d been there all night, waiting for whatever mystical occurrence had happened to fade away. When this was over, she was going to kick Dean’s ass and then tear that damn succubus to shreds. Buffy knew it wasn’t directly Dean’s fault, but at the same time it was. If he hadn’t distracted her… she would have been more on her game.

Or, if she hadn’t been too busy inhaling the scent of his cologne or staring at his ass, maybe she could have sensed the sex thing-y sooner. Some slayer she was…

It was Willow who spoke up first, her voice shy and stuttering, almost apologetic as she looked at her embarrassed friend, “We had Xander pick her up… she was kinda freaked out by the whole thing… and you guys were pretty… um… vocal… so yeah we ah… were with the research to see if we could break the spell. Kind of like last time, but only this time… we couldn’t find any angry spirits. Sam tried to break down the door, and Giles tried a spell… but we couldn’t… so we waited. John just got here, and they were with the yelling… and Dean just walked in and was with the normal Dean, so he's okay, and then you...”

Willow blushed further, clamping a hand over her mouth to stop her ramblings.

A new wave of embarrassment rolled through Buffy and the only thing she could feel was annoyance that Dean was standing there looking pleased as punch. Didn’t he care that he’d been invaded? That the succubus had made them sex crazed? Of course he wouldn’t, he was Dean.

Everyone was now looking at her, including Dean; his mouth paused in mid bite around his apple. Buffy got a sudden flash of his mouth between her thighs, his tongue lapping up her juices like he was doing to that apple. Buffy wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to look at Dean the same way again.

Buffy kept walking, straightening her back as she put on a false bravado that seemed to work so well for Dean. She snatched the apple out of his hands, her teeth scrapping off a bite as she settled her back against the counter as far away from Dean as she could.

Buffy met Dean’s father’s eyes and was completely mortified that he might have heard them together. What a great first impression. Dean and Sam had shown up two months ago, but the oldest Winchester had been an urban legend up until now.

He was tall, not as tall as his boys, but he was distinguished in that older man sort of way. He had a full beard that had started to gray, and his pale complexion was almost ashen. His eyes, a warm brown, looked trouble with age. He was a demon hunter, Buffy could see it in his eyes, and it was by looking at him that Buffy saw where Dean got a lot of his traits.

“Hi, ah, I’m Buffy… but I’m guessing you figured that one out. Sorry about the circumstances… caught us at a bad time. Not that there is a good time on the hellmouth… but yeah.” Buffy rambled before she took another bite of apple to shut her self up. "Okay then. So how do we find this succubus thingy and kill it. Cause right now, I really want to kill it."

John breathed a small-relieved smile and gave a tiny chuckle that had Buffy blushing even worse. She was exactly how they had described her. Beautiful, smart, focused in a completely un-focused way, perfect for Dean.

Giles regarded Buffy with a sad smile, "I'm afraid it's not that simple my dear. We have to find out about any lasting effects, or any adverse reactions you two might have. If we are dealing with a succubus,"

"Definitely a succubus," Dean interrupted watching the way Buffy's full lips closed around the apple.

Her jaw clenched as she bit into it before and she pulled away sucking the juice from the meaty part of the apple. A dribble of nectar dribbled down her chin and Dean watched as she wiped it away with the back of her hand, much like he'd done after he'd devoured her.

“Hey!” Dean piped up, finally realizing what had just happened, “That was mine.”

Buffy shook her head, meeting Dean’s eyes and tried her best not to take notice of the answering flutter. Buffy struggled to remember if it was this way before she’d spent the entire night in his arms. It was one of those, which came first things: the chicken or the egg.

“My house. My apple. Get over it.” Buffy flashed a tight-lipped smile at him.

Dean scoffed, turning his back on his guests and stalking towards Buffy as annoyance rolled through him. Dean had always thought she just needed to get laid, but he’d taken care of that, very thoroughly last night and into the morning. Maybe she was just a spoiled bitch.

“Actually, the watcher’s council pays for all of this, so it’s not technically yours.”

As Dean turned, Sam’s mouth dropped open and he stood from the table. Dark red blood had started to seep through the back of Dean’s white shirt, the threads becoming stained as it spread and soaked up the blood.

“Jesus Dean, you’re bleeding!” Sam exclaimed, moving towards his brother.

Buffy pulled the apple from her mouth and set it forgotten on the counter as she turned Dean around so she could see his back. Dean knit his eyes in confusion as tried to move his head over his shoulder to look. Now that he thought about, pushed past all the other nagging parts on his body that hurt, his back was kind of tender.

Buffy grasped the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to get a better look at the wounds. Dean hissed, raising his arms to aide her, as the cotton peeled from the now very real pain that throbbed through him. How could he have missed that? Right, he was too busy undressing the blonde in front of him with his mind.

There was a chorus of gasps that rang through the room and Dean watched as Willow put a hand to her mouth in shock.

“What is it, dude?” Dean asked Sam in confusion, his head trying to move once more over his shoulder to see what was so bad.

“Did that thing do that to you?” John asked angrily, taking in the red bleeding scratch marks that marred his son’s flesh.

“I ah…” Buffy stumbled, lightly touching the wounds and remembering the feel of his skin under her fingers, “I don’t think it was the succubus." She coughed, "I’m sorry Dean, does it hurt badly? I didn't mean...”

Dean jumped when her fingers touched his skin, just the tiniest spark of heat jumping between them as Buffy trailed her finger next to the angry red scratches on his back. There were three of them, the flesh parted deeply and seeping blood.

Sam and Dean met eyes, and Sam could read the desperate question in his brothers hazel eyes.

“She scratched you man. Damn, Dean, these are pretty deep; I think you might need stitches. You didn’t feel this? I mean… you had no idea?” Sam asked and wondered what in the hell had happened upstairs. Sam quickly changed his mind, he really didn't want to know, not that it would stop Dean from telling him, no doubt in too much detail, later when they were alone.

Buffy, with a nagging sense of guilt, moved under the sink to retrieve the first aid kit she kept stashed there. She remembered scratching him in ecstasy at some point in the night when the pleasure had been too much. She remembered the scent of blood, salty and spicy, male, but Buffy hadn’t realized how deep it was until now.

“Well we were…ah… preoccupied.” Dean grinned, “I mean at the time it didn’t hurt… trust me, nothing hurt.” Dean met Buffy’s eyes and they shared a look that spoke volumes about what had taken place upstairs. Nothing had hurt expect the sheer amount of bliss they'd exchanged.

Buffy cleared her throat as she pulled out a chair, her eyes now fixated on the floor. She did her best to ignore the looks she was getting from Willow and Giles. Thankfully, Sam and John were too concerned about Dean to watch her face changing colors.

“Sit down, I ah… I’ll clean it.” Buffy said, her hands pushing on Dean’s shoulders to sit him in the chair so that his chest pushed against the back of the chair.

Dean turned his head, his hand stilling Buffy’s that remained on his shoulder. He could feel the heat of her touch moving through his body. Buffy lifted her head, feeling the same thing as their eyes met.

“Hey,” Dean gave a light chuckle trying to lighten the mood, “don’t feel bad. What’s a little bit of blood between lov…”

Buffy shook her head and her eyes narrowed, how could he joke about this? It was far from funny. “Don’t even say it Dean. I swear…”

“What,” Dean’s eyes gleamed in mischief as he gave a slight tug on her hand, pulling her towards him, “that we’re lovers now? That I…”

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight. We are not lovers.” Buffy denied as she pulled out of Dean’s grasp and roughly turned his head so he wasn’t looking back at her anymore.

“Whatever you say sweetheart. Denial - it’s not just a river in Egypt.” Dean flipped. Why did it piss him off that she was denying what happened this morning?

Buffy’s lips slanted in a frown as she harshly pressed an alcohol-drenched gaze to the open wound and squeezed maliciously. The clear stinging fluid poured inside of the scratch and ran down Dean’s back in a pink line that curved along his spine.

Dean flinched, jumping in his chair. "Ow!" He shot his head over his shoulder, his jaw clenched in anger. It was wrong to hit a woman, even if that woman had super human strength and could knock his teeth out. "Damn woman! Are you trying to kill me?"

Buffy smirked as she drew the pad over the scratch gently this time, acting as if she'd never done anything wrong. She wiped up some of the blood that had stared to dry around the wound, discarding the stained pad and getting a fresh one.

"If I was trying to kill you, you'd already be dead. Now stop being a baby and take it like the man you claim to be."

"Oh I think I proved myself last night... didn't hear you complaining. In fact, you were begging."

"Dean..." Buffy warned, as she pressed against his tender wounds hard enough to make him let out a soft whimper and close his mouth.

TBC...