Bending to Break

Title: Bending to Break
Author: Dani
Feedback: DaniMarieShafer@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Buffy/Dean
Crossover: BTVS x Supernatural
Spoilers: Through season... four/five of BTVS. Season one of Supernatural. I'm doing what's called "mirror" canon named by Chloe. It resembles the shows, but I've taken liberties. This is Buffy in her pre uber-darkness, but post Riley.
Summary: Wrapped in the seduction of a powerful and ancient succubus, Dean and Buffy must find a way to sever their connection with the demon before its too late.

Chapter 1

"Okay you are so not helping me right now." Buffy Summers hissed to the lurker behind her as she tried to concentrate on the dark silence that eluded the night.

It thrummed through her, that darkness, filling her every sense until she was completely immersed in it, until she was the darkness. There was the scent, earthy and real, from the light sprinkling of rain they'd gotten the previous night. The ground was still dewed, covered in soft beads of moisture that hung in a delicate balance before falling to the ground. If she concentrated hard enough, she could hear the dewdrops as one melted into the next, trickling down the contoured blades of grass.

Buffy closed her eyes, becoming motionless like Giles had taught her. With a slow deep inhalation Buffy took in the scents that extended beyond what was right in front of her. Her eyes fluttered and everything seemed to stop. Below her, she smelled the decay of death from the rotting corpses that rested as peacefully as one could on the mouth of hell. With every careful silent step, her black combat boot sunk into the moist earth beneath her feet and Buffy could feel which ones were truly dead and which ones would become the undead.

Past that, if Buffy honed in the Slayer senses she'd spent the last five years perfecting, was the smell of blood. It was salty and metallic, and if she closed her eyes she could practically see it running down some poor victim’s neck right before they dropped lifeless to the ground. The blood smelled of fear and something sweet; it was a female. Angel, her ex-honey who happened to be a 243-year-old vampire, had taught her that.

Buffy loved it; loved the thrill of being in the game. She loved the way the wind blew against her cheeks to make them red and prickly with endorphins. She loved the rush; feeling her long blonde hair blowing behind her as she tackled the next big bad. She loved the feel of her fists connecting against solid muscle and bone. It ached inside of her like a muscle that she could flex at her will. It was her pent up energy and right now it was begging to be unleashed on something.

Buffy Summers wasn't just a vampire slayer, she was The Slayer. She was the chosen one. She was the one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to hunt and kill vampires. When she walked into a demon bar, she commanded attention; she commanded fear with just a faint wisp of her power tickling over them.

Buffy loved everything about her job, with the exception of Dean Winchester, her newly appointed partner. Okay, partner wasn't the correct terminology. Dean, with his dark hazel green eyes, was six-feet of pure pain in her ass, and currently, that pain in her ass was cocking his shotgun. The scraping of metal echoed throughout the silence of the cemetery, and just like that everything was shattered.

"Listen!" Buffy shouted in annoyance, "For the last time, a shotgun, not helpful!" She ranted, her focus completely lost and the vampire they'd been tracking for the last twenty minutes gone.

Buffy took a moment, her pale green eyes narrowed with infuriation at one of the Scooby Gang's newest additions. Dean Winchester was tall and had a wide muscular shoulder base that just screamed pure raw male. As Buffy looked up at him, her neck titling back, she noted that he was taller than Angel had been. That, Buffy mused, was saying something in comparison to her five-foot two (four if she was wearing heals) inch frame.

His lips, pale and thin, were curved into a rakish grin that looked entirely too smug… and entirely too yummy. Would it be really bad if she took his favorite shotgun and hit him over the head with it? He was looking down at her with nothing short of arrogance, his eyes sparkling with that never-ending stream of mischievousness that lingered in his depths and Buffy felt her stomach flutter.

"A shotgun," Dean replied and his words that were twisted with a very faint mid-western accent sounded just as annoyed as Buffy's had, "is very helpful princess."

Buffy drew in a deep breath of anger and regretted it instantly when she drew in nothing except his rich masculine scent. It wrapped around her, drew her a step closer to the man she'd spent the last few weeks trying to get away from. His scent was a mixture of spice and musk, laced with just a hint of soap - her soap - that he'd used to wash away the sweat from their earlier sparring match.

The picture of Dean naked in her shower with water moving over the rigid planes of his body aside, Buffy loathed admitting that through all his bravado, smug looks, and witty retorts that rivaled her own; he wasn't a bad fighter. He was actually quite good for someone with no mystical power. Giles noted, several times a day, with a rising sense of pride that Dean had improved remarkably while training with them. His speed, agility and strength had nearly doubled under her Watcher’s careful, yet patient training.

And while Buffy sulked like a petulant child while her Watcher did what he did: watched, she had to fight the increasingly lusty feelings she was having. She blamed it on inactivity. With the Winchester demon hunters, Dean and his brother Sam who was three years older than her, camped out on the hell mouth for God only knew how long, demon activity was down and so was Buffy's morale.

She needed to kill something.

If she were Faith, she'd just pick up a guy in a bar and release her tension that way. But she wasn’t Faith, and Buffy was over relationships. She'd done the forbidden thing with Angel - and had her heart turned to dust. She'd done the one-night stand thing with Parker - that had turned out humiliating. She'd done the 'normal' relationship thing with Riley - and well that… that had been a joke. She was over relationships, and Dean (as hot as he was) was just trouble with his charming looks and flirty comments.

Not that he, Dean, would be interested in her anyways, Buffy mused. They spent their time between daily sparring matches locked in verbal ones. They couldn't agree on anything: from the radio station that she was forbidden to touch in his midnight-black Impala (his heart and soul), to which cemetery they'd patrol first. They fought about the weather. They fought about the lack of weather. They fought about fighting. And currently they were fighting about his stupid shotgun.

Dean and Sam, the prodigy demon hunters, had shown up in Sunnydale two months ago in search of a particular nasty that had slain their mother and Sam's live in girlfriend Jessica. They'd showed up, and much to Buffy's increasing annoyance, they hadn't left. As it turned out, Giles knew John Winchester, their father. It turned out that Giles and John went way back to her Watcher's ‘Ripper’ days. It turned out that when John asked the Watcher to keep an eye on his boys, Giles had accepted and suggested a few training methods for Sam's growing powers and Dean's increasing potential.

Giles, with funding from the Watchers Council, had converted her basement into a training facility. Dean and Sam had moved into the bedroom that used to be occupied by Willow and the late Tara, and her mother's house, which she'd inherited, was now known as Scooby Central.

It was said that you could never have too much help on a hell mouth.

Well that was just wrong. She could do this by her self.

"For the last time, don't call me princess!" Buffy shouted, her voice carrying throughout the night.

"Okay, how about spoiled brat - or - I could go for broke and just tell you that you're being a real bitch right now." Dean retorted, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he regarded the angry blonde with amusement.

Dean's eyes moved over the delicate lines on her face and settled on her mouth. Her lips were full and pout-y, and when she was really mad, like right now, the scowl she shot him should have struck him dead, but instead it made his heart beat a little faster.

Dean had entirely too much fun watching the way Buffy's cheeks tinged red with her anger. Her eyes, a light shade of green that complimented the golden hues of her skin and hair, always seemed to shine a little bit brighter when they were directed at him. Half the time Dean didn't know if the she was going to kill him or kiss him, and right now, he'd take either if he could get her to shut up.

If he admitted it (which he wouldn't), Dean had become addicted to the amount of sheer energy that rolled off of her. When she was angry, her forehead creased and her hands on her hips, it tasted all the much sweeter. It never ceased to astonish him how much power she wielded for being such a petite little thing. From the second he'd met her Dean had felt a connection, a kindred spirit. They were alike, in more ways then one, as Willow, Buffy's best friend, had pointed out to him.

"You are this close," Buffy pinched her fingers together, shaking Dean out of his musings, "to a stake in the heart! You might have gotten in one good punch earlier, but I still kicked your ass all over the mat, so don't get cocky with me wanna-be-hunter-boy. I *will* hurt you."

Dean took a step closer, and Buffy held her ground as she tilted her chin up so she could stare him in the eyes. She'd faced the Master, she'd faced Angelus, she'd defeated Glory, avoided countless other apocalypses, and she could face Dean Winchester. Her heart pounded in her chest and all that pent up energy inside of her crackled and snapped in her veins. It was overwhelming, the intensity of it.

"You have super human strength, while I just have my good looks. Of course you kicked my ass, but I sent you flying on that cute little ass of yours, more than once, so what does that say about you and your holier than thou attitude."

"What didn't you get about me staking you?" Buffy yelled as she took one step closer into the scent that wrapped around her and drew her in.

The collar on Dean's worn tan leather jacket was cuffed up, framing around his narrow jaw. Buffy could see the tension thrumming through him: the way his eyes darkened, the way his lips pursed. She could feel his heart beating, sending out waves of energy that moved over her body. They were standing nose-to-nose, well chin to nose, nostrils flaring as they squared off against one another.

"You need a stake, not a shotgun, to slay vamps, and once again you've messed with my spider sense and let the vamp get away!"

Dean huffed indigently, "Me? Right. You lost the last vamp all by your self because you were too busy staring at my ass. And what's wrong with blowing its head off? Less mess - just as effective."

"Less mess? Ha! Is the big bad hunter afraid to get his hands dirty?" Buffy sing-sang in a mock pout.

"Please sweetheart. I've been hunting demons since I was seven, so cut the attitude. I've seen more fucked up shit then you could dream of."

Oh that was it, Buffy thought.

"Really? Dying isn't fucked up? Being bitten, stalked, stabbed and maimed isn't fucked up?" Buffy was screaming now, energy pulsing through her fingertips as she pumped her fists. "You chose this job," she poked him in his chest, hard, sending him back a few inches, "I didn't. You have some suicidal sense of vengeance. It's all macho bullshit. I didn't choose this; it chose me. You can just walk away at any time, leave all that 'fucked up shit' behind you and start a normal life, but I can't because it’s my destiny! I'm in this until I die, which according to whatever new prophecy might pop up – I could be dead tomorrow! So yeah I have an attitude!"

Dean narrowed his eyes, truly ticked at her pissy little rant. He closed the distance between them, fighting the urge to wrap his hands around her neck. He grabbed her arm, fingers biting into the muscles as he drew their faces together so that the tips of their noses touched. If they hadn't been screaming at each other; if she didn't see the fury in his eyes, Buffy might have thought he meant to kiss her.

"You think I do this for vengeance? I do this because of my family, because of Sam! I had to step up and be man, to take care of things! You've got a whole fucking gaggle of hens at your beck and call. I can't walk away any easier then you can, so don't act like you are beyond me. Sam is my destiny - he's all I have." Dean released her arm as his lips curved into a condescending smirk, "We're more alike then you think princess, and that's what really pisses you off."

"What pisses me off..." Buffy started, ready to tell Dean to take his gun and shove it up his arrogant (perfectly shaped) ass, but her words trailed off as she narrowed her eyes to a flash she caught out of the corner of her eye.

Buffy heard the annoyed click of Dean's tongue against the roof of his mouth when she didn't finish her sentence. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped when he saw what she saw. Buffy could hear the rustling of his denim jeans as he straightened his body and brought his shotgun down by his side in firing position. It was a silent movement, one of a true hunter, but Buffy was too finely focused on Dean and the sound of his increasing heartbeat to miss it.

A gust of wind swirled around them, exciting their skin into goose bumps and they both moved into an automatic fighting stance that mirrored the other one.

Buffy concentrated on the darkness, sending her senses into the distance like an extension of her self. On the horizon of her sight she fixated on an old graying mausoleum. The stone walls were cracked and covered in green ivy that grew around it like a blanket. To the right of the crypt was an angelic statue; the white concrete turned ivory with age. Between the two, Buffy could make out a shapeless illuminate ball of light that hovered above the ground like a cloud of mist.

Buffy turned her head to the side, eyes pointed up at Dean, "Stay back."

Dean shook his head in the negative, his eyes flickering from Buffy to the shapeless object that was starting to take form as it billowed in a glowing white beacon of light.

"And miss the fight? I don't think so. This one’s mine."

Melodic music drifted over a slight breeze in the still night. Buffy felt her hair dance behind her, her skin tightening even further as her nipples drew into hard diamond points. She cast her eyes to the nearby trees; the leaves perfectly motionless despite the breeze that lapped at her suddenly hot cheeks. A wave of desire rolled over her with the false draft of scented air and Buffy felt a staggering bolt of arousal rush though her. What in the hell was going on?

Dean groaned beside Buffy, and Buffy rolled her eyes up at him in curiosity. Did he feel it too?

"Wonderful." Dean whispered as he lowered his gun and relaxed his stance, "I think it’s a succubus."

"What - like a sex sucking thingy?" Buffy asked in disbelief.

Dean rolled his eyes at the slayer, "Yes ‘like a sex sucking thingy'. We should go before it gets any closer. We can come back later once we have a spell of protection. While I'm all for a bit of fun in the sack, I prefer my women less of the demon variety and more of the blonde variety." He joked with a lazy wink, the contours of his mouth curving in a wolfish grin.

Buffy felt her cheeks flush and she blinked up at him. Her head suddenly felt thick, heavy, and all she could think of was Dean and her having some fun in the sack. Buffy shook her head, fighting against the sudden haziness that was making it hard to move. Anger, Buffy thought; focus on how much he annoyed her.

"Now, wait just a minute." Buffy meant to sound annoyed, but her voice hitched and it came out huskier than she intended, "The last time I checked, I was the Slayer and you were the wannabe hunter. We go, when I decide that we go. Despite what your manly pride says - Giles put me in charge."

"Now," Dean rasped as his eyes fluttered shut in a dizzying wave of arousal that hit him low in the stomach and made the muscles in his abdomen flex, "isn't the time for this babe."

Dean tried to move, but he couldn't. The faint music that had drifted over him, now sounded loud. A soft feminine voice sung through his head, echoing and caressing his most intimate parts. When Dean opened his eyes, it wasn't Buffy that he saw in front of him; it was the succubus. They were screwed, was Dean's last coherent thought.

Beside him, Buffy blinked, her eyes widening at the ethereal looking being that hovered suddenly before them. The demon, Buffy considered, was the most beautiful thing that she'd ever seen. She had long black hair that floated in the windless air, moving in tandem with the flaps of her white see through robe. Her skin was pale, translucent, and through her Buffy could still make out the statue of an angel in the distance like a double exposure. Eyes, blue as the brightest sapphire, shone like diamonds in the night as the demon’s pout-y lips curved into a sultry smile.

Buffy felt her head start to spin and her hand slowly uncurled from around her wooden stake, dropping it to the ground. Beside her, Buffy was only faintly aware of Dean's gun dropping at his feet with a clunk. She wanted to ask how useful his shotgun was now, but she couldn't manage to form the words in enough clarity to speak them.

Dean was overcome with lust, with need. The voice, soft and heavenly, called out to him. Invisible fingers moved along his jaw, down his shoulders and grasped at his hand, pulling, beckoning. Dean started to move towards the succubus and with the last ounce of will power Buffy could muster, she stepped in front of him. Somehow Buffy knew that if Dean went to this succubus, he wouldn't come back, not alive at least. Dean's front pressed against Buffy’s back from the tops of his thighs against her ass; his hard pectorals against her slender shoulder blades.

With each breath, Buffy could feel the tense muscles in Dean’s stomach tighten against her. He was hot - so damn hot, and Buffy felt beads of sweat gather at the nape of her neck. Like a heater, waves of fire engulfed her from where his body touched hers. He was aroused, his erection digging against the small of her back with each slight movement from either of them. Another bolt of desire shot straight through Buffy, grasping her in vice like fist full of aching need.

Buffy's lips parted in a moan, and she felt the warmth of Dean's hands as they settled on her hips, holding her against the swell of his manhood. The beautiful demon in front of them laughed, ringing a sweet siren’s song that had Dean pressing his body further into Buffy in an attempt to walk through her.

"Oh my…" The succubus clapped, her long graceful hands appearing to touch, but Buffy knew better. "Aren't you a pair? So much passion; so much want; so much power."

Buffy stayed motionless, caught in a trance. Her eyes, hazy and lidded, drooped and became unfocused to everything around them. Like a soft bolt of silk, Buffy felt heat where the succubus trailed its ghostly hand down her cheek. Dean whimpered behind Buffy, his fingers bruising against her hips as he squeezed her flesh almost painfully.

“Look away…” Dean panted with exertion, a slash of pain slicing through his stomach.

It hurt to look away. It ripped his insides to fight the voice that lingered in his head. They had to leave, had to get away, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t fight past the feminine flesh in front of him. It was too much. Vanilla and lavender filled his senses, and an echoed moan crossed through him. Flashes of images, one by one, moved through his head.

They were images of Buffy: her lithe huntress body moving sensually over his. Her breasts, small and perky, lost in the haven of his mouth. He could feel her, like she was there. With each image that filled him, Dean lost the loosing battle. He wasn’t strong enough; he couldn’t fight to free himself of the temptation the succubus baited him with.

The succubus turned its bright blue eyes up at Dean, holding his gaze, sucking him further into her power. She looked through him, and into him, caressing his energy so that she could hold him in the palm of her hand.

Buffy looked to the spirit, her eyes tracing over the delicate profile of the translucent skin, down her neck and stopped, her mouth agape, at the bountiful mounds of her breasts. A sudden movement in the darkness caught Buffy’s eyes as the succubus unfolded a pair of shimmering wings that spanned three feet in each direction. A gust of wind picked up around them as the demon flapped the beautiful glittering wings. It was a gust that danced only around them, and the sweet scent of lavender filled Buffy's senses.

"And you my most precious." The succubus whispered towards Dean as it wrapped its velvet wings around the couple, “Do not fight what you desire. I see inside you, I feel you.”

Buffy felt a swift heat, strong and heady; move along her body like a lover's caress. She moaned - her head moving back to rest on the wild beat of Dean's chest. His hand, large as Buffy's entire abdomen, curved around to her stomach, teasing her flesh as he pulled the tight black material of her tank top up until he felt her bare skin.

In an upward stroke, Dean moved his hand, his gaze focused on the succubus before him. Buffy melted into his touch, curving her body against his, and Dean lost himself in the pleasures that the succubus whispered into his ear. She told him; moaned into his thoughts about all the naughty things he should do to the woman in his arms.

Dean cupped Buffy’s breast underneath her shirt, his eyes fluttering like wings of a butterfly when the succubus moved a hand down the side of his cheek. She held him with her eyes, forced her will upon him.

Buffy’s knees threatened to buckle, her mind spinning as Dean applied more pressure against her tender flesh. He pulled the lace material of her bra down, spilling a breast into his palm. The other hand that still rested on her hip moved around the front for her stomach: just the tips of his fingers dipping below the waistline on her tight black pants.

Buffy shut her eyes, one hand moving over the hand Dean had currently moving down the front of her pants. She threaded her fingers through his, guiding him - moving him lower to where she needed him to be.

Dean’s hand moved more insistently along her breast, moving with the succubus’ will. Buffy cried out against him; writhing and rubbing her body against him when their combined hands moved under the soft matching lace of her panties.

Buffy’s eyes fluttered opened as Dean’s hand found her center, wet and slick with arousal. She let go of his hand, moving hers behind them to cup his thick neck and hold his body against hers. Buffy felt like she was floating, nothing felt real, it felt like a dream.

The succubus leaned into them, her large breasts pushing against Buffy’s. It put more pressure against Dean’s hand that still moved under her shirt. The succubus pressed the gentlest of kisses against Dean's mouth.

“Bring her.” The woman whispered against Dean’s mouth, her tongue flicking out to run over his lower lip before their mouths sealed in a kiss.

The kiss was soft; like walking on a velvet cloud, and Buffy felt the dripping moisture between her thighs increase when Dean's mouth parted at the demon's gentle demand for entrance. Their tongues met gingerly and Dean's jaw, covered in a faint dusting of hair, flexed with his mouth’s movements as the kiss deepened.

Dean moaned into the swirling kiss that ate at his soul. It pulled and stole his breath, and as much as he fought the nagging in his brain, he succumbed to the need in his veins. His hand moved lower, cupping the weeping sex of the Slayer in front of him. Heaven.

She was wet, hot, and dripping against his palm as her breathing grew ragged. This was wrong, and Dean knew it, somewhere he knew that they couldn’t go back after this. And with that thought, came a lashing of pain from the demon that was sucking out his soul. 'Bring her...' echoed and danced inside of him.

Dean cupped Buffy’s mound with more force and determination, the tips of his fingers entering her core each time he moved the hard palm of his hand against her clit. He rubbed her up and down, bringing her, making her energy spill into the night.

White pure energy swirled and danced around them. Dean’s energy moved along Buffy's body, inside of her core, and spilled from each moan and plea for more. As it grew and melted, it went straight into the succubus as they merged as one. Buffy cried out on the brink of her plateau, Dean’s hand moving faster and harder against her tender swollen clit. He was pumping her furiously, and Buffy dug her nails against his shoulder in desperation, drawing rich crimson blood to stain through his cotton shirt.

Buffy was too caught up in the wisp of pure bliss to move when the demon released Dean's mouth with a needy moan and caught hers next. Buffy parted her lips soundlessly, eagerly, accepting the kiss despite the nagging feeling she felt tugging at her.

Dean's hand was still playing with her swollen tender breast, rolling a hard nipple between his thumb and his forefinger. This was wrong - so wrong, and Buffy cried out when a jolt of pain shot through her at the thought.

This... this was divinity and nothing on earth should feel like this. Buffy's hand rose with the succubus’s will, to thread through her jet-black hair and tangle around her fingers. The kiss grew insistent, urgent, and Buffy whimpered as Dean curved two fingers inside of her scalding depths.

Dean was going out of his mind with lust. He needed her, Buffy, needed to be inside of her. With every twist of his wrist as he flicked over her g-spot he imagined his cock pressing into her. With every needy moan that whimpered out of her mouth, Dean felt his pleasure increase. He watched, his mouth moving over Buffy's neck as she lost her self in the succubus’s kiss. Dean no longer saw a demon, he saw two beautiful women kissing and writhing against each other as he stood behind them and played their pleasure.

Dean's lips, hot and moist, pressed against the back of Buffy's neck as he moaned against her. With a passion filled open-mouthed kiss he moved and tickled along her skin, feasting on the taste of her flesh. He couldn't get enough; it would never be enough. Where he kissed her, fire moved from those spots and traveled the length of Buffy's body to bring her into rapture.

She felt the rough stubble on his cheeks scratch against the tender skin, drawing out her bliss and making her beg for more. She felt the pressure building inside of her stomach, hard and penetrating. Her knees were weak, and the only reason why she still stood was because of Dean. Buffy cried out suddenly, her hand tightening in the succubus’s hair as all hell broke through her body at once.

Buffy reached her brink, pulsing around Dean’s fingers as her climax poured into the succubus's mouth in long moments of pure orgasmic pleasure. Buffy heard Dean behind her, a hungry whimper as he thrust his hard cock against her back and spilled him self just as his teeth broke through the skin at her collarbone. He drew blood, Buffy could feel it: sticky and warm, and their combined energy spilled out in an explosion.

Blood and pain, and rich white pleasure surround them, mixing, melting, becoming one, and the succubus fed long and deep as Dean continued to stroke Buffy sopping depths into another mind numbing climax.

With a reluctant wave of dizzy power the demon pulled back, released Buffy’s swollen lips and pulled back the hold she held on their minds. Slowly, carefully, she withdrew from the dazed lovers. A sense of euphoria filled the succubus and a wide delighted smile crossed over her doll like features.

"Bound now by blood and lust, a truly special pair you make. With my kiss I give to you the most precious gift as you give to me." The succubus whispered with a lingering hand, one against both Buffy and Dean's cheeks before she backed away and broke final contact.

The demon glowed bright, her flesh no longer white, but now a pale pink - healthy with life from with the energy she had fed from. It wouldn’t last, the succubus knew this, but it was a beginning. The ritual had begun. A wicked smile crossed over her now deep ruby lips and she flapped her still translucent wings into the night. She floated away, leaving a hazy slayer and her hunter to bask in just a faint taste of what euphoria that she could bring them. They would fight it, the succubus knew, and with that anger, came their passion.

It was the true love’s passion that she'd been seeking for over the past five hundred years, and she’d finally found it.

"Feed me well my lovers. Feed me and I will be free." With that the succubus vanished.

TBC...