Dream On…

Part One

By Larilyn

Summary: Past lives, the Wild West and the Summers sisters. Fun stuff for Sam and Dean.

Spoilers: Through season 1 of Supernatural and the entire series of Buffy.

Disclaimer: Don’t own. Never have. Never will.

Notes: I don’t know what the boys will be driving in the second season. In this fic-reality the Impala lives.

 

 

 

Dean knew he was dreaming. Which really, truly sucked. Because reality? Not this good.

 

In the real world he was sleeping in the passenger seat of his car, hoping to God that Sam didn’t wreck it (again). But in his dream…

 

*****

She slid her soft little foot up and down his calf. “You’ve turned me into a wanton woman.”

 

He sighed in contentment, “Mmm, I’m not sure who is corrupting who, Elizabeth.”

 

She let a little laugh escape. “Oh you are definitely the corrupting influence.” With that, she slid her leg over his, trapping his thighs between hers. Leaning down for a kiss, she asked, “Corrupt me some more?”

*****

 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice penetrated his dream. Slowly, reality began to creep back in. The leather seats of the Impala began to replace the warm bed with worn linen sheets. Dean fought off the invasion with every inch of his subconscious.

 

“Dean, wake up. We’re here.”

 

“Damn it, Sam,” Dean mumbled. “Five more minutes.” But it was gone. She was gone. The warmth of her body was no longer pressed against his. And he had one hell of a crick in his neck. He reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

 

“We’re here,” Sam repeated.

 

“Heard you the first time, Sammy.” Dean narrowed his hazel eyes at his brother. “Where’s here again?”

 

“Tulsa, Oklahoma.”

 

Dean’s face must have registered zero on the recognition scale because Sam felt compelled to explain, as if he was talking to a four-year old, “Poltergeist? Haunted house? Ring a bell?”

 

Dean simply gave his little brother one of his best annoyed glares.

 

Sam smiled widely and looked as if he might actually laugh. “Must have been one hell of a dream you were having.”

 

“Why do you… what makes you think I was having a dream?”

 

“Because you were making noises.”

 

“What kind of noises?”

 

Sam grinned even wider and got out of the car.

 

“Hey!” Dean protested, “What kind of noises?”

 

*****

 

Well, shit, he was going to die. And he was going to die at the hands, or fangs more likely, of some nobody vamp who probably rose less than a week ago. If that didn’t beat it all.

 

The thing had a rope (his own damned rope!) around his body, pinning his arms to his ribs, and there was no earthly way to get to his weapons, much less do anything with them. Years of hunting all come down to this.

 

And then, she was there. Beating the tar out of that poor, pathetic excuse for a vampire and plunging a stake through its un-beating heart.

 

As the dust settled around her, she went to release him from his bindings.

 

“Anybody ever told you that you’re a damned beautiful sight?” He asked his rescuer.

 

“You’re just happy to see me ‘cause I saved your ass, Deacon Colfax.”

 

“Now darlin’,” he murmured seductively as he reached for her, “you know that ain’t true.”

 

She protested a bit, like she always did, “Deacon, we shouldn’t.”

 

“Has that ever stopped us before, Elizabeth?” He asked as he bent to capture her lips with his own.

 

Her tiny body pressed itself against his in the most delicious way. “Deacon,” she hummed against his mouth, “if you mean to bed me I expect you to do it proper.”

 

“And how’s that, little one?”

 

She pushed him away. The shock of the cool night air hit him where her body had been against his so warm and soft. “In a bed, sir.” And with those words she took the reins of his horse and led it to him. “Yours will do.”

 

Deacon smiled, and then allowed himself to laugh. She was beautiful, she was powerful, and she was his.

 

*****

 

Dean drifted awake, still trying to hold onto the dream. His hotel bed was lumpy. The sheets were scratchy. He was the only one in it. Across the room, in his own lumpy bed, Sam snored lightly.

 

“Shit,” he murmured.

 

Dean threw the covers off, glanced at the clock, and went to the bathroom to take a leak.

 

When he came back out, Sam was still sleeping soundly. It was after eight, late for Sam, but Dean let him sleep, grateful that his baby brother was actually getting some much needed rest.

 

Still clad in his t-shirt and boxers, and not bothering to straighten his mussed hair, Dean booted up the laptop.

 

The job in Tulsa was wrapped up, with minimal bodily damage for a change. It was time to move on. Dean scanned the net for about twenty minutes before he hit pay dirt. “Sounds promising.”

 

Dean went over to his bags, pulled on his jeans and socks, and woke up his brother.

 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up.”

 

While Dean laced his shoes, Sam stirred. “Hmm?”

 

“Sammy, come on. Let’s hit the road already.”

 

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, rubbing his eyes.

 

“San Antonio, Texas.”

 

“What’s in Texas?”

 

“Weird shit.”

 

“Wow, that really narrows it down, Dean.”

 

Dean grinned widely at Sam. “Move it, time to go.”

 

*****

 

Sam fiddled with the radio knob until he got something other than static.

 

Yeah, they were dancin' and singin' and movin' to the groovin'
And just when it hit me somebody turned around and shouted

Play that funky music white boy
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music white boy
Lay down that boogie and play that funky music till you die…

 

Dean gave Sam a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look. In response, Sam did a little dance in his seat.

 

“Weirdo,” Dean muttered as he took control of the Impala’s radio.

 

I was a high school loser

Never made it with a lady

Till the boys told me something I missed

Then my next door neighbour

With a daughter had a favour

So I gave her just a little kiss, like this!

 

Dean added an extra little, “Yow!” and grinned like an idiot at Sam. “I love Aerosmith.”

 

“You know, you’ve been in a sickeningly good mood lately. Even for you.”

 

“Have I?”

 

“You have.”

 

“Hmm.” Sam was right. Even though waking from his dreams could be a little frustrating, the actual content was anything but. Dean turned the volume up a little more and sang a little louder.

 

Walk This Way, Walk This Way

Walk This Way, talk This Way

Just give me a kiss - like this!

When the guitar solo managed to shut Dean up, Sam asked, “So, have any interesting dreams last night, Dean?”

 

“Usually me asking you that, Sammy-boy.”

 

“True, but I don’t think my dreams are quite so pleasant.”

 

“A gentleman never kisses and tells, Sam.”

 

“Are you supposed to be the gentleman in this scenario?”

 

Dean’s attempt to retaliate with a smart ass comment was thwarted by a ringing phone. He started to dig through his pockets but Sam said, “Mine,” and answered.

 

Dean reached up to the radio, turned the volume down, and listened to Sam’s half of the phone call.

 

“Hello?... Hi! How’ve you been?... Oh you know, same old same old… Um, Oklahoma, heading for Texas… Of course. Give us about six hours?... Okay, see you soon.”

 

Sam flipped his phone shut. “Turn around.”

 

“Who was it?”

 

“Missouri. She wants to see us.”

*****

 

Dean raised his fist to knock on Missouri Mosley’s front door. Just before his knuckles made contact with the wood her voice called out from inside, “Come in, boys.”

 

Dean knitted his brows and asked Sam, “Man, how does she do that?”

 

Sam responded with a bemused smile and opened the door.

 

Inside Missouri sat on a foyer chair. She was a pleasantly plump black woman with a kind face and a motherly quality, especially when it came to scolding Dean. She was talking to a very pretty girl of nineteen or twenty with long brown hair, a button nose and clear blue eyes. Behind them, on the staircase, Dean could just make out another figure.

 

She stood, and when she came into view Dean felt as if the entire world had fallen away.

 

It was her.

 

Dean had already memorized every feature; her impish smile that widened when she teased him, her grey-green eyes that darkened when she was aroused, and her luscious blonde hair that felt like silk against his skin.

 

Unconsciously, Dean tilted his head to the side for a better look.

 

“My God,” she breathed.

 

Missouri approached him, her finger wagging. “Boy, you say something smart-assed and I swear…”

 

Dean barely heard the scolding, “Your name’s not Elizabeth, is it?” It really wasn’t a question, and it really didn’t come out that way.

 

“Buffy. My name’s Buffy.”

 

“Buffy,” he repeated.

 

For an eternal minute they studied each other. When Sam cleared his throat, it seemed thunderous.

 

“Hi, I’m Sam. Sam Winchester.”

 

The brunette extended her hand to Sam. “Dawn Summers. The space cadet on the stairs is my sister, Buffy.”

 

Dean heard Sam let out a little chuckle. Buffy smiled and Dean once again lost track of everything around him.

 

That is, until Sam nudged him sharply in the ribs.

 

“Ow. Dude, what are you doing?” Dean glared at Sam. Who, annoyingly, seemed amused.

 

To Dawn, Sam introduced, “This is my brother, Dean.”

 

Buffy spoke his name ever so quietly. “Dean.”

 

Dean found himself staring unabashedly at her again. Buffy blushed fiercely and Missouri, breaking the spell, ushered them all into the sitting room. “Why don’t we all sit, instead of crowding in the foyer, huh? We’ll all be more comfortable and we can talk this out.”

 

“Dean, do you know her?” Sam asked in a hushed tone as they passed through the beaded curtain.

 

“No, Sammy, I really don’t.”

 

Dean sat down next to Sam on Missouri’s couch. Dawn perched on the arm of the sofa on Sam’s other side. Across the coffee table, next to Missouri, Buffy sat and stole glances at Dean.

 

Sam spoke up, “I’m afraid I’m feeling a little out of the loop here. Missouri, what’s going on?”

 

“Well,” she began in her soothing voice, “It seems these two have had each other on their minds.”

 

Buffy cast her eyes downward and Dean suddenly felt the need to say something, anything to break the tension. He flashed a crooked grin in Buffy’s direction. “Well this is awkward.”

 

Buffy sighed and smiled at the same time, which Dean found quite enchanting. She nodded in agreement, “Actually, I think we’ve shot past awkward and are heading straight toward mortifying.”

 

Sam looked back and forth between Dean and Buffy. Dawn looked as if she knew exactly what was going on. Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, a silent demand for an explanation.

 

“Oh shut up, you nag.” Dean sighed, “Buffy is who I’ve been dreaming about, Sam. Every night. For months. And I’m just guessing here, but…”

 

“I’ve been dreaming of you too.”

 

Her voice was so familiar that Dean had to remind himself that for all intents and purposes, Buffy was a complete stranger. He gave his head a slight shake and asked Missouri, “So, how’d you get involved in this?”

 

Buffy explained, seemingly grateful that Dean swayed the subject away from their dreams, and their content. “She ran into me at the Hy-Vee. Literally. The woman is a maniac with a grocery cart.”

 

Dean couldn’t help it; he had to smile at her. He immediately wished he hadn’t because as soon as Buffy caught his smile she ducked her head away so that a curtain of hair fell across her face.

 

“When I touched Buffy, I saw you Dean.” Missouri watched for his reaction with her wide brown eyes. And, dammit, he could feel himself blushing.

 

“Great. How’d I look?”

 

“I saw your soul, boy. Your previous self.”

 

“Are you saying that I’m dreaming of a past life? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Dean. You and Buffy knew each other. You loved each other.”

 

Sam interjected, “Missouri, why is this happening? I mean, why now?”

 

“I’m not really certain, sweetheart.”

 

“Oh sure, I’m ‘boy’ but Sammy gets ‘sweetheart’.”

 

Missouri continued as if Dean hadn’t said a word. “I saw something. Something tragic. Something evil.”

 

“Now we’re talking,” Dean said with gusto, “What do I have to kill?”

 

“Kill?” Missouri asked.

 

“That’s what I do. I kill the bad things. That’s why you called us here, right?”

 

“No, boy,” Missouri reprimanded. “I called you here because your past self is crying out for you. Something happened to the two of you. Something sad and horrible. And I don’t think your dreams are going to stop until you find out exactly what happened and remedy it?”

 

“Remedy it?” Buffy asked, “How do we remedy something that happened a hundred and fifty years ago?”

 

“Oh honey, the soul knows when it has been healed, even when the flesh is long gone.”

 

“Not to be blunt,” Dean said, “Or to be totally blunt, these dreams aren’t exactly something I’m desperate to be rid of.”

 

Buffy sat back in her chair and huffed, “Pig.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“Pfft.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

Sam offered, “You kind of are.”

 

“Shut up, Sam.”

 

“I’m just saying…”

 

“Well don’t just say. Nobody asked you.”

 

Buffy gestured at Dean and pointedly said to her little sister, “See? I told you.”

 

Dawn nodded, “Yup. I see what you mean.”

 

“Wait a minute. What have you been telling her?”

 

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and said very matter-of-factly, “I told her that you are a pain in the ass.”

 

Dean was stung. “Hey, now that’s just unfair.”

 

“The truth hurts. Doesn’t it?”

 

“Let’s talk about you for a minute, Miss Holier Than Thou.”

 

To Dean’s utter satisfaction, this got a reaction. “Really?” Dawn asked, “She was like that in her past life too?”

 

Dean nodded sagely while Buffy snapped, “Dawnie!”

 

Dawn shrugged, “Well, it’s true.”

 

“Dawn, don’t take his side!”

 

“Well somebody should, since my own brother thinks I’m swine.”

 

Sam backpedaled, “I just meant that sometimes, with women, you can be a bit…”

 

“A bit what, little brother?”

 

Buffy smirked, “A Bit O’ Bacon. Pig.”

 

Missouri shook her head and admonished, “Children! Listen to me, all of you. These dreams might not concern you much right now but I have a bad feeling. Something dreadful happened to your past selves and I can’t help but think that something just as dark is coming for you.”

 

 

To be continued….