Bending to Break

Chapter 5

"What do you mean what happened?" Buffy lowered her voice as she frowned into the phone.

She turned away from the expectant faces of her audience to hide the blush she felt heating her cheeks. She knew exactly what Angel meant, but that didn't mean she was going to be the one to tell him. Giles could do it; surely Angel wouldn't hurt him. At least she hoped...

"Buffy what aren't you telling me? Something happened in Sunnydale with enough power that it's opening the hellmouth. I know you. That's not something you forget and I have a hard time believing you have no idea what caused it." Angel huffed.

He was annoyed, Buffy could tell by the sarcastic tone of his voice and she did her best to ignore it. "Energy surge - badness - who cares about the specific details? We're on it."

"What is it with everyone!" Angel growled, "Tell me, now."

Buffy closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and her thumb. This, with a room full of people, wasn't the time to get into it.

"Can we talk about this later?" As in never... "Look Angel, we've got a lot to deal with over here, I don't need you to deal with too." Buffy said in a tired voice, "Listen, now just really isn't the time to get into this..."

"And I don't have things to deal with?" Angel snapped over the line and then drew in a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry Buffy. I'm just worried about you; you know that. I've got a bad feeling - something painful in my gut - and Cordy is leaving out details... It's something bad isn't it?"

Buffy spun around, her eyes meeting Dean's as she held his gaze. She felt heat roll through her stomach at the fresh memory of his mouth against hers, the way it felt to have his abrasive cheek move against her neck. She could see it in his eyes, ones she hadn't noticed as being this expressive in the past. When he looked at her, like he was doing now with lust and desire, it made her knees wobble.

"It's ah... bad." Buffy supplied, and she didn't miss the way Dean's lips curved up into a grin. He may not be able to hear her conversation, but he knew exactly what she was talking about. The smug bastard...

Turning her body against the wall once more, Buffy did her best to ignore the heat of Dean's gaze she felt on her ass. He was across the room, but yet she could feel him as if he was standing behind her, his hands on her hips, his lips moving over her jaw and towards her mouth.

"We'll try to be up there by tomorrow night," Angel's voice sounded through the phone and snapped Buffy out of her fantasy, "we've got a hell-beast that's bringing a reign of fire... shouldn't take us too much longer. Can you guys hang tight until then?" He asked, and Buffy could hear the tension and concern in his voice.

"Well?" Buffy shook her head; did it matter who he brought? "Yeah we should be of the good - we've got a few... ah... demon hunters," Buffy fought not to turn around and look at Dean, "with us, they can help with the baddies until reinforcements arrive." Buffy breathed, really wishing that she were somewhere else.

"I've missed you Buffy." Angel said softly, almost too soft for her to hear. "There are some things we need to talk about while I'm there... maybe we could..."
"Look, I've got to go..." Buffy mumbled as she hung up the phone before Angel could say anything else.

Her stomach was a mass of knots and guilt surged through her, unfounded and completely ridiculous. She and Angel were over, had been for over two years - why did she feel like she was betraying him? Maybe because in her heart she still loved Angel; still felt her soul joined with his. But maybe it was because somewhere else in her heart she felt Dean Winchester, the pain in the ass that he was, stubbornly worming his way inside there. If she weren't careful, Dean might actually be someone she could love...

"Buffy?" Giles asked softly, as if it wasn't the first time he'd called out her name.

When she looked up from the floor and met his soft blue eyes they were full of concern. He took off his glasses, regarding her with his full attention as he rested a hand on his hip, "What did Angel say?"

While Giles didn't approve of her relationship with the vampire, he didn't discount the true nature of her feelings towards him. She'd been through and seen a lot in the last few years: things Giles wished he could erase. She had enough distractions right now and adding Angel to the mix was not one that was needed.

"Angel - What kind of name is that..." Dean mumbled under his breath, feeling that unfamiliar bubble of jealousy roll through him.

There was pain in his stomach that radiated throughout his entire body from not touching Buffy. From watching the longing pass through her entire body at the mention of this Angel guy. She was in pain, not physical, but he could see the tiny frown on her forehead at whatever he'd said to her to make her upset. Didn't they have enough to deal with? Wanting to screw her six ways to sundown wasn't a big enough issue? Getting her pregnant, that wasn't enough? Apparently, on the hellmouth, nothing was enough.

"Angel said there was some kind of energy surge that is opening up the hellmouth and we're about to have our hands very full. Apocalypse full. Vamps, demons, evil spirits... the works. Cordy had one of those vision thingies that she gets now... and yeah it doesn't look good. The AI gang is coming up to help with damage control as soon as they take care of their own hell-beast."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, his head resting against the wall he had his back pressed to. "Did he say if you and Dean were the cause of this surge, or are we dealing with something else?"

Buffy shrugged her shoulders, her eyes soft when they regarded the youngest Winchester and wondered not for the first time how he and Dean could be brothers. They were like two sides of the same coin. Sure, she saw the similarities when they bantered back and forth, Sam showing only a fraction of the wit she knew he had. He was quiet most of the time, dealing with his own issues just like everyone else.

"He didn't say specifically, but I'm guessing it was us. It's too much of a coincidence not to be, even for the hellmouth. They'll come down, we'll kick this thing's ass, and then everything can go back to normal."

"Yeah," Dean snorted. "Like things are ever normal around here. You know, this succubus is a real bitch. Worse than you sweetheart..." He finished with a grumble, fighting the pull to run towards the blonde on the other side of the room.

"Funny." Buffy deadpanned, rolling her eyes in the process.

She leaned against the wall by the phone and slid down it exhausted until her butt touched the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and winced at the answering pain that throbbed through her center. As if she needed more of a reminder. Buffy rested her head on her arms, looking out towards their haggard crew. They all needed some sleep if they were going to be on their game tonight.

Dean's gaze moved over the delicate lines of Buffy's face as he watched her lay her head down on her crossed arms. A strand of honey blonde hair laid flat against her cheek and he couldn't help but note how drained she looked - it was almost as weary as he felt. She took a deep breath and blew out, that strand of hair moving away from her face only to flutter back down in almost the same spot. Their eyes met and it was almost unbearable, the throbbing he felt pass through him. He wanted to touch her, to feel her skin under his, to be home again.

Dean kept his eyes focused on her and her deep even breaths, wondering why she wasn't writhing in the agony he felt. If she were feeling half of what was going on in his mind she'd be crying out for him. He pushed at those feelings, pushed at the invisible grip that he felt hazing his thoughts and emotions. The whispering faded a little with his efforts, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Sam spoke up, his eyes moving back and forth between Buffy and Dean who seemed to be locked in some kind of a staring contest, "I'd like to stay for a little longer, look through some in the books in the basement. I've got this nagging feeling I can't shake... I'll bring Dean with me back to your place when I'm done if you don't mind." He finished looking at Giles.

Nodding in tired agreement, Giles moved towards where he had slung his blazer over the back of a chair when he'd arrived last night. He gripped it, his knuckles whitening as he took a moment of careful thought. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and closed it. As much as he wanted to coddle his Slayer, there were some things he couldn't help her with. There were details; things that they were leaving out and Giles knew that when Buffy was ready, she'd share them with him. Having Buffy as his charge had taught him more than just patience.

Giles placed a gentle hand on the top of Willow's red hair, stroking evenly until he woke her up from where she was dozing at the kitchen table. "Willow, it's time to go - we should get some sleep before sundown - we'll need all the help we can get tonight."

Willow lifted her head; her eyes fluttering open as she looked around trying to figure out where she was. She'd only fallen asleep for just a moment, but it felt like longer. "I'm up." She yawned, flashing a sleepy smile as she stood.

"I'll call you later Buffy, try and get some sleep." Willow said, walking over to where Buffy had managed to break Dean's gaze and stand up. They two girls hugged softly as Willow held Buffy as tightly as she could.

Dean coughed behind them, shrugging off the heavy hand that rested on his shoulder. He shot his dad a look over his shoulder, telling him he'd be fine.

"If we are done with the chick-flick moment I'm gonna grab a shower." Dean quipped.

Willow let go of Buffy, turning on her heal to face Dean and his amused smirk. "And you Mr…" Willow frowned as she shook a finger at him, "stop with the lusty jumping of Buffy. I don't look like much, but with a little help I could take you."

Dean chuckled pointing at Buffy, "She's the one you have to worry about - tell her to keep her hands off the goods." With that he turned up the stairs and made his way towards the shower before he really did jump Buffy.

Buffy closed her eyes as tension snapped through her, "Why can't I kill him?"

Sam laughed, "'cause knowing him, he'd come back and haunt us to death. I don't think there is enough salt on God's green earth to vanquish Dean's spirit."

"Right." Buffy smiled.

"I think I've got a friend who can help us out with a talisman that might help counter some of the effects until we can figure out how to reverse this. I'll give him a call and meet back up with you kids later." John said, following the crowd out the door. He turned to Sam, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm trusting you Sam to look after your brother. You know how he is, it's probably worse then he's letting on. He's in pain; I can feel it. Make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid until I get back."

Sam rolled his eyes with a snort, "When has Dean ever done anything that wasn't stupid?"

"I can hear you Sammy." Dean shouted from up stairs, "don't make me tell Dad about Holman, Oklahoma and the..."

Sam blushed, closing his mouth and ignoring his father's knowing half smile. "Right. We'll see you tonight then... and ah Dad," Sam started raising his eyes to meet his fathers straight on, "I'm sorry..."

John shook his hand squeezing Sam's arm a bit firmer that was the equivalent of a hug, "It's okay son. You don't have to say anything."

Sam nodded, watching his father walk out the front door and close it softly behind him leaving the house empty sans Buffy and Dean.

Buffy had stayed out of the way, watching the exchange in silence as she rested her hip against the door jam that separated the kitchen from the living room. Sam turned back towards her, giving her an embarrassed, half smile that he sometimes got when Dean teased him.

"Breakfast?" Buffy asked feeling her stomach rumble. She'd eat; burn the sheets on Dean's bed, and then pass out in her room until Dawn got home from school. After that, well then it was time for some serious demon ass kicking.

"You're cooking?" Sam snickered with a shake of his head. "No thanks. I'm hungry, but not that hungry."

Buffy frowned, "Hey!" She hit him playfully on the shoulder, "That's so not fair. I only burnt those waffles because your brother wouldn't shut up."

Sam gave her an expressive grin that looked too much like Dean's for her liking as she watched him replay the memory from a few days ago in his mind. "And why do you think he wouldn't shut up?"

"He started it." Buffy stated indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Funny." The corners of his warm eyes crinkled up, "He always says the same thing about you... I wouldn't call what you two have 'true love's passion', but you definitely got somethin'." With that, Sam moved to the basement to grab the ancient tombs Giles kept there, shutting the door closed behind him.

* * *
Dean swiped a hand over the fogged glass with a squeak, his large palm erasing the moisture so he could see himself. The man who stood before him looked like him, but it didn't feel like him. He studied his short golden brown hair, wet and clinging together in a way that stuck up from the thickness of it as he ran a hand through the sodden locks. The eyes that stared back at him were his, a muddy green, darkened by the bags that were starting to form under them. When Dean turned to the side it was his profile, the sharp line of his nose and the purse of his lips, which Dean saw in the reflexive glass.

If it looked like him, if it felt like him when he drew a hand down the three-day-old stubble on his jaw, why wasn't it him?

Inside of him, Dean felt that thing: that demon bitch with her striking blue eyes leering at him with a pleased smile on her pout-y lips. She was in his head, lounging on a bed in glorious nakedness, laughing. When Dean drew his eyes down his neck, following a rivulet of water that ran between the defined muscles in his chest, he could feel her simmering heat inside of him.

The line of water moved down the rigid abdomen he spent so much time maintaining and disappeared into the towel he had wrapped around his waist. He could feel her amused smile; he could hear her humming and infecting his thoughts with every second that passed

"Find her... bring her. The pain will stop if you seek her out."

Dean shook his head, desperate to free himself from the constant purr that echoed in his mind. Arousal thrummed through him like a grave weight, pressing along his spine. It wasn't about the release, he'd tried that in his thirty-minute shower and it had done nothing but spike the heat that ran through his veins.

He needed her: Buffy; and his skin felt like it was tearing in half with the intensity of it, every second he fought it. The longer he stayed away, the longer he went without touching her the laughter that rang in his head grew louder, along with the pain. The bitch was punishing him...

Dean pushed away from the counter and did his best to put the rest of his thoughts to the back of his mind. If he could avoid Buffy, could go one minute without seeing her naked and screaming out his name, he'd be all right.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom in a cloud of mist as Dean walked out into the chilled hallway. He focused on the small things, the cool floor beneath his moist feet, and the feel of air licking across his skin and evaporating the water that clung to him.

He didn't see Buffy until he felt her, the smooth lines of her body pressed up against him as they ran right smack into each other. Dean's hands sprung forward, catching around her petite waist before she fell to the floor. The movement drew her closer to him, so that Dean's slick chest pressed against her scratchy wool sweater.

Buffy looked up, lips parted invitingly and stunned into silence when their eyes met. Heat flashed between them where Buffy's hands landed on his firm chest to steady her self. Her fingers pulsed with need and moved up his chest, over his shoulders and down his arms until she cupped the swell of his elbows.

Dean took a step forward, moving Buffy with him until he had her backed against the wall. The unbearable pain faded where Buffy's hands touched his skin and relief washed over him. The sting lessened with each slow second that ticked by only to be replaced with blind hunger. Dean didn't think, didn't stop, just kept pressing forward until their chests were flush and his mouth was pressed ravenously against hers.

"Bring her..."

Buffy could feel him through the towel, his turgid length pulsing and seeking out her heat as he roughly tugged open her mouth and drew her tongue into his moist warm cavern. The wall was hard against her back; Dean was even harder in front of her and Buffy felt trapped at the loss of control. The panic she felt at the first bruising contact of his invading heat liquefied into ecstasy as she gave herself over to him. She moaned, her fingers clutching at his arms as she poured every ounce of her desperation into him.

The kiss grew in intensity as all of the pent up passion inside of them boiled over. Dean's hands skimmed up her sides, grazing over the smooth round edges of her breasts until he could cup her heated cheeks in his hands. He held her head still, his lips and tongue moving against hers and he felt a part of his soul move into her. He was desperate, consumed with more fierceness then he'd ever felt before.

Buffy gasped, her head swimming with a need that wasn't driven by the heat, but by Dean and the sheer volume of desire he poured inside of her. For every stroke, for every twist that his tongue rolled over hers, Buffy felt her stomach clench in an arousal that left her dripping wet within seconds. Passion ignited to a new high, jumping back and forth between them until Buffy ripped her mouth away from his just moments before she drowned from it. She drew in a deep - much needed breath of air. She panted; her mossy eyes dark with need as she blinked up at Dean.

His large hands dropped from her cheeks, skimming the soft supple skin of her stomach before he moved further underneath her sweater. He felt the muscles in her abdomen flutter under his slightly callused hand as he cupped the soft mound of her breast. Buffy let her head fall back against the wall as she let out a whimper of need. Dean bent down, their lips meeting in a fury of tension as he rolled her erect nipple between his fingers.

They kissed and groped, Dean reveling in the feel of her as his hunger morphed into something that was out of his control; out of all control. Everything was... Dean's eyes snapped open, his free hand deftly catching Buffy's hand as she made a move for the knot on his towel. He gripped her wrist tightly, his fingers forming a full circle as he squeezed hard enough to draw her attention away from his wanting cock. This wasn't right.

He released her mouth with reluctance, pain scalding through him with enough force that he almost staggered to his knees. If he weren't holding onto her wrist, anchoring himself to her, he would have fallen into a crippling ball. Dean panted as he fought against the pain, against the succubus whose eyes were bright with anger at being denied again. She wanted to feed... she wanted to taste Buffy and she couldn't unless Dean was bringing her. He realized with a flash of clarity in his mixed up head, that it was through him that the succubus infected Buffy.

"Go. Now." Dean panted, struggling with the succubus that whispered with more force in his head and twisted his desires.

It was a fine line, one that made it hard to tell what he truly wanted and what was being forced through him. Did he want to push Buffy's to her knees and watch her swallow his cock because that was what he desired? Or was it the succubus in his head that sought out the feeling of him releasing into her mouth?
"Huh?" Buffy asked, shaking her head, lost in the haze she felt radiating off of Dean.

"I can't..." Dean panted, taking a labored breath and a step back away from her. Pain ripped through him, staggering him mid step. He straightened his spine stubbornly and let go of her wrist. "If you don't want me to fuck you against this wall and bring hell on earth, you need to leave. Now! You've got about two seconds before this bitch that is playing with me..."

Buffy nodded in understanding as an ache clenched at her wildly beating heart. It wasn't her that he wanted... that thought hurt more than it should. It was the succubus that was playing with them, and Buffy had to remember that. Right now she could feel it, the drawing heat between them, but it wasn't consuming her the way it was Dean. He was panting, sweating, his eyes screwed shut as he clenched his fists in tight balls. Every few seconds he'd open and then close them in time with his erratic breathing.

There was tension in his body; Buffy could feel it crackling around them in the few feet that separated them. His chest rose and fell heavily and Buffy could see the vein in his muscled jaw twitching as he fought not to push her against the wall and plunge inside of her. It hurt him; physically caused him pain not to touch her. Why was it affecting him so much worse?

Buffy had to walk away, had to move past him despite the overwhelming yearning she felt racing inside of her. While it didn't hurt her like it did Dean, she felt his ache like a phantom pain moving over her. Her body was on fire with a gut wrenching desire to drop to her knees and feel Dean bumping against the back of her throat, but she had to remember that it wasn't what she really wanted. Or was it?

Confused, aroused and just a little bit terrified of the hungry need on Dean's face, Buffy forced herself to move past Dean and into the bathroom. She shut the door, locking it with a flick of her wrist and rested her forehead against the firm surface of the door as she let out the breath she'd been holding. The warm damp air smelt of soap and Dean, and when Buffy turned to the mirror, she could see the place where he'd smudged off the fog of steam.

Buffy walked over to the mirror, her heart racing inside of her chest and brought her hand up to her lips. They were scarlet from his kisses, and her bottom lip was divided in an angry line that split down the middle from where he'd bitten her. Her eyes were bright: greener then she'd ever seen them. The more Buffy looked, the more she studied the fine lines on her face, the more reality sunk in.

Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision and making her chin scrunch up. With a shake of her head and strangled sob, Buffy turned away from the mirror and drew her sweater up and over her head. A shower, a cold one, would do nothing to ease the ache that she felt inside of her body, but something was better than nothing. Tension moved over her, flexing her muscles and causing a familiar restlessness inside of her. Their passion, both spent and undiscovered, was awakening the slayer inside of her.

While everyone else would find sleep, Buffy would lay awake in her bed replaying the feel of Dean panting and thrusting above her. No, sleep wouldn't come until she could tear that damn succubus limb from limb. Buffy wondered, the motion of turning on the shower to the coldest setting, stripping off her clothes and stepping under the icy spray all coming automatic, if Dean would find any reprieve.

The water hit her like tiny pin pricks of pain all over her body and Buffy gasped. She sputtered, pressing a hand against the wall in front of her as she struggled to draw in a breath of air through the paralyzing pain in her chest that seemed to happen when you jumped into really cold water. It took Buffy a few minutes, her long hair now soaked and clinging to the sides of her face and down her back, to feel completely numb.

The heat, the need, it was all pushed aside and Buffy found a second of lucidity as ice ran over her sore body. Buffy snapped her eyes open in dismay, cursing her stupid moment of clarity and doing her best to ignore what it might mean. In her moment of what was supposed to be blank nothingness, she found Dean Winchester and the memory of his mouth against hers. Buffy groaned, dropping to the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees as she sat and contemplated what in the hell she was going to do.

Out in the hall, Dean groaned, his head twitching to the side as he felt his skin start to itch with burning fire. It wasn't the same type of heat that he felt when he touched Buffy; no this was pure torture and was caused by the angry beast that he'd pissed off. That thought, at least, made him grin. He listened for the scrape of metal and felt only a slight relief when Buffy flipped the lock on the bathroom door. If he really wanted to go after her, a flimsy door wasn't going to stop him, but it would at least slow him down some.

The sound of water splashed on, and Dean could hear the heavy jets ricocheting off the tub. He did his best to ignore the picture he was getting in his mind of Buffy stripping naked and walking under a stream of water. More than anything he wanted in that shower, wanted to cup her breasts and spread milky white bubbles of soap over her nipples until they were hard.

It was hopeless, Dean groaned as he walked towards his bedroom and to his dresser, ignoring the bed in the center that was beckoning to him. While Sam finished his research, hopefully sooner rather than later so they could get the fuck out of there, Dean would try to catch a nap. Glancing back towards the stripped bed he shook his head, as the whispering grew louder. He sure as hell wasn't sleeping in this room. He'd prefer Buffy's bed - but he'd take the couch for the sake of mankind and what not.

Donned in a fresh pair of jeans that slung low on his hips and a faded long sleeved navy blue shirt that fit snugly around his muscular body, he walked down the hall only pausing for a moment outside of the bathroom door. He could hear the water, could almost see it spraying of Buffy's toned body as she leaned her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair.

In his mind he could see that white stream of soapy water move along her spine and down the crevasse of her ass. He could see that stream pass over her tender folds where they would curve and run down her inner thigh and then finally down the drain. Dean looked down and drew back with a start when he realized the doorknob was in his hand. He hadn't even remembered reaching out to it...

"That bitch." Dean hissed.

"Have you lost mind?" Sam asked making Dean jump back away from the door.

Dean looked down the stairs to where his brother was looking up at him, his eye brows raised in question. The curve of Sam's hip rested against the wall at the bottom of the stairs as he looked at him expectantly.

TBC...