I Don't Like You
“Dean, come on.”
“I said no.”
“How old are you?”
“Old enough to know I do not want to go back there.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Dean Winchester gripped the steering wheel tighter, shooting his brother a steely look before eyeballing the road. Like he wanted to bitchslap the road in place of the well-placed anger he still felt every time he thought about that little blonde… lady. He didn’t respond.
“Dean,” Sam Winchester said in exasperation, “You’re just pissed you got beat up by a girl.”
“That was no girl,” he grumbled and Sam ignored him. “And you’re pissed that she did it with one hand.” Dean sneered at the road. “Come on, Dean, people are dying.”
“People are dying everywhere, Sam,” Dean snapped in response, his tone telling him the last thing he wanted to do was ever touch foot in that damn town again, and Sam rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in defeat before turning to glare a hole in the passenger side window. Dean glanced at him. “Why do you want to go back so bad? It’s not like she can’t do it herself. What, you got a crush on Freak Barbie or something?”
Sam turned to give Dean a concentrated look, a mixture of annoyance and barely restrained patience. Dean smirked at his new nickname before turning back to the road. “Fine, whatever. We’ll go play in Creepy Town with Freak Barbie. What’s the job?”
“Well,” Sam said in a mixture of resignation and triumph, knowing Dean would never turn his back on people dying, warming to the facts of the case. “Looks like a spirit. Abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere, house burnt down around sixty years ago. The barn survived because it was built so far from the house but nobody ever did anything with it. Nothing happened for about thirty years until some strange deaths started popping up around town. Nobody really paid any attention to the patterns, they just thought a serial killer was passing through eventually because they stopped after six deaths.”
“You’re joking. A serial killer?”
“Hey, man, from what I can tell, this town is weird,” Sam said.
“Yeah, that much was obvious the last time we paid a visit.” The annoyance echoed in the cab of the car and Sam gave him a look. “Okay, so what? The killings just stopped?”
“Yeah. And then nothing again for another thirty years until last week.” Sam held up a newspaper clipping. “Three more people were killed in the area, all different locations but all the same M.O. Strangled to death.”
“Which means three more people are supposedly on the menu.”
“Okay. Spirit.” Dean pushed the engine, going faster. “Good, easy. Get in, get out... So who is it you think we’re dealing with?”
Sam furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure yet. The owners of the house supposedly died in the house fire. They suspected arson but why would they burn down their own house and just let themselves burn?” Dean shrugged. “Exactly.”
“So what, angry owners, pissed that someone burned down their precious house… but why the strangling? And why is it bopping around all over town?”
“All very excellent questions,” Sam responded.
“Man, that place is like spirit central,” Dean said. He leaned forward in his seat to check the road signs as he turned onto a highway that would take them directly into California. “It wasn’t even six months ago we were there and already another one?”
“I did a little more research on the town,” Sam said, “Sunnydale is a hub of supernatural freakiness. Pick a monster, and you’ll probably find it there.”
“A real monster, Dean.”
“What, I bet those are some angry little bitches. Running around with a spikes on their head?” Dean shook his head. “I’d be pissed too.” Sam looked at him, a patient look on his face, before chuckling. “So why didn’t Dad or Bobby ever mention it? You’d think it would be a hunter hot topic.”
Sam shrugged. “I doubt either of them ever came out this way. Honestly, most of the stories are rumors. There are a lot of weird disappearances but that’s just not news around there so it never really got very far.” Dean gave Sam a skeptical look and Sam put his hands up, “Don’t look at me, I just read the news.”
“So what about this Slayer business that Freak Barbie was touting on about?”
Sam nodded. “There’s a lot of lore about her too. But it’s all really vague. They say the Slayer is one girl who has the power to stop the things that go bump in the night… I thought it was just a story until… well, until we met her.”
“Yeah, right,” Dean snorted, pushing the Impala back up to the high eighties as he roared down the empty road. “Or she’s a crazy possessed chick.”
“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam grinned. “I’ve never seen a demon work you over that bad.”
Dean glared at him. “Shut up.”
They were in town for a little over a day when they found out what they wanted, knew where they wanted to go and they had managed to escape notice of the resident Freak Barbie. Dean constantly checked over his shoulder, recognizing the small community they were in and he was more than a little reticent about running into her again. Not because he was afraid. Mostly because he didn’t want to punch a girl. And this time he would.
Night had fallen when they pulled up in front of the broken-down barn, literally in the middle of nowhere. Dean leaned forward to look out the windshield at it. It was tall, taller than a normal barn by his estimation and it wasn’t even red. The color looked like it had seeped off over the years of constant humidity, salty air and heavy doses of sun, turning it into a dull, lifeless grey. Dean frowned.
“Nice. Creepy barn in a creepy town populated by creepy people,” he grumbled, opening the door, the hinges of his baby groaning in time with his movements. He moved to the trunk, slipping his key into the lock, his eyes not leaving the barn as he pulled it open. Sam appeared next to him. “So she’s hanging out inside?”
“Yeah. Buried in the floor. Nice, huh?”
“Well, I suppose if you want to get rid of your crazy daughter who you also happen to be having your merry way with on the side before she gets preggers and then you strangle her?” Dean shot Sam a smirk. “I’d do the same.”
Sam rolled his eyes before reaching into the trunk for his gun and a shotgun. Dean reached in next to him, shoving salt, an extra lighter, lighter fluid and a knife just in case. He threw in a healthy length of iron chains before stuffing his favorite gun into the back of his pants. Swinging the duffel bag of his shoulder, he grabbed two shovels and handed one over as he shot Sam a grin before slamming the trunk closed.
“You go first.”
“What? I went first last time.”
“Yeah, and I’m the big brother so what I say goes.”
“Right, because that’s been working so well for you.” Dean glared at him and Sam shook his head. “Rock paper scissors.”
“Nope,” Dean said, brushing past him and heading towards the barn double doors. “I already called it.”
“You can’t call not digging up a grave first, dude! It’s not a car.”
“Don’t give me bitchface, Sammy,” Dean said over his shoulder. “You’re the one that dragged me back out here.”
“What part of three people dead doesn’t concern you?”
“I came, didn’t I?”
Suddenly the barn doors whipped open, sending somebody flinging through them. Both Sam and Dean paused, watching in tandem as the body slam into the ground with a loud thud, the whoosh of air leaving her lungs audible in the night and Dean rolled his eyes at the familiar person, muttering, “Damn it,” as Sam turned to face the assailant, raising his gun and firing at the dirty woman. She disappeared instantly as the salt rock slammed into her spirit.
The woman on the ground groaned in pain as she rolled to her knees, wiping her hands on her pants as she stood. She took a deep breath, brushing her hair from her face and Dean just smirked at her disheveled state. Sam turned, slapping Dean’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Oh god,” she said, rolling her eyes. Dean raised his eyebrows in greeting. “Actually no, it’s Dean, if you remember. But I’m okay with you calling me god.”
Buffy Summers shot him a dirty look before sneering at him and Dean and Sam moved into the barn. They watched a bale of hay lift into the air the moment they crossed the threshold and it came whirling at their heads. Dean cursed wildly, ducking and pulling Sam down with him. Little bits of hay littered the air as it crashed into the barn wall, bursting through the rotted wood into the night.
“Oh man, she’s pissed,” Dean said and Sam gave him a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ look and Dean shrugged. “Let’s do this.”
“Oh, great,” Buffy said as she appeared behind them, crouched on the ground. A wind that had no starting point came rushing through the barn, lifting her hair off her face and neck and into a frenzy. Dean glanced back at her. “I see you guys have come to town for your annual digging-up-of-the-graves fun.”
“You’re welcome,” Dean growled.
“I didn’t say thank you,” Buffy replied brightly. She gave Sam a smile, patting his shoulder. “Hi, Sam.”
“Buffy,” he replied, his eyes flying around the room as a piece of large wood hurtled around.
Dean spared them a look, shooting it between their faces, a quizzical look on his, and Buffy frowned at him. “Hi, jerk.”
Dean smirked at her. “That’s cute. Now why don’t you let the adults take care of this? Go play outside.”
Buffy ignored him, leaning in closer to them as a whistle began accompanying the wind. “So where’s the dig site?”
Sam stretched his neck, ducking down quickly when another bale of hay whipped past them. “I’m gonna guess in the corner over there. That’s where everything seems to be coming from.”
“Great,” Buffy drawled. “So we run into the whirlwind of debris and pray we don’t get our necks chopped off? Sounds fun.”
“You have a better plan, Freak Barbie?”
“What did you just call me?”
“Guys, come on,” Sam said in exasperation, turning to give Dean a hard look. “How about you guys bite each other’s heads off after we get the spirit that is trying to kill us?” Dean rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself and Buffy snatched his shovel from his hands and Dean glared at her.
“Follow me,” she said to Sam, moving towards the outer wall.
“Hey!” Dean shouted, moving to follow but Buffy turned back to him. “No, you’re the diversion. Go stand in the middle and… try not to get hit. Or get hit. That might be better.” She flashed him a false smile and didn’t wait for him to respond as she moved towards the wall again. Dean didn’t miss the amused smirk on Sam’s face as he followed her, snatching Dean’s duffel, seeing her plan. Dean didn’t get a chance to respond or even roll his eyes as he stood and was immediately slammed in the back with an old bench. He fell to the ground, groaning and rolling out of the way as it suddenly slammed into the ground where he had been laying. He looked up as another piece of hay came hurtling towards him.
A shout from the corner caught his attention and he turned in time to see Buffy execute a high kick in the air, shattering a piece of wood aimed for her head. He gaped, eyeing her before rolling to his feet and running in the opposite direction.
It took Buffy and Sam less than five minutes with Buffy’s added strength to dig deep enough to find the shallow grave where the woman’s father had buried her after brutally killing her. The rope was still wrapped around her neck as Sam poured salt and lighter fluid over her bones before lighting a match and letting it drop. There was a loud, grief-filled shriek that filled the air, filled the barn to the point of bursting before a large fireball of a ghost appeared by the door, reaching towards her bones before she burst into nothing, disappearing.
Everything that had been in the process of being flung around the room suddenly stopped, wood, old furniture, hay and dirt falling back to the ground. Dean sneezed as the hay fell onto his jacket and he groaned, wiping it off before roughly shaking his head, running both hands through his hair. Hay fell out and he looked up to find Sam smirking at him, Buffy behind him, an amused smile on her face.
“Great. We’re done,” Dean said, “Let’s get out of here.” He stalked back through the doors of the barn, leaving the two of them behind.
“How did you know what was going on in the barn?” Sam asked Buffy.
She shrugged. “Just patrolling. I happened to be out here when I accidentally popped my head in and, hello ghost!”
“Good timing,” Sam replied with a chuckle. He smiled at her. “Wouldn’t have been so easy otherwise.”
“Please,” Dean snorted from where he stood by the Impala. “We would’ve been fine.”
“How’d you guys even know she was in there?” Buffy asked, handing Sam her shovel. She crossed her arms as she looked at Dean. “Looking for ghostly girlfriends along with zombie lovers, Dean?”
Dean mockingly laughed at her before glaring and sliding into the Impala. “Sam, let’s go!”
“Dean, open the damn trunk,” Sam said and Buffy watched, an eyebrow lifted as Dean sat in the car, practically pouting before whipping open his door again and stalking towards his brother. He jerked the trunk open, barely giving Sam a chance to throw the items in there before he slammed it closed again. Sam gave him a look but Dean ignored it, pointing to the passenger side door.
Sam ignored him. “This isn’t the first time that Katie in there attacked people,” he said as he approached Buffy. “Every thirty years, she would appear and kill anyone who happened to have touched the ground in which she rested.” Sam shrugged when Buffy made a face. “Thirty years because, we think, that’s how old she was when she was murdered. And she only killed six because we think her dad killed some other people – six people – before he and her mother died in the house fire.”
“Oh, well, that’s a cheery bedtime story,” Buffy said, frowning. She looked around Sam to see Dean back in the car, staring straight ahead. “I really pissed him off, huh?”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah. He’s been a little… sensitive.”
Buffy snorted. “I’d say.” She stepped around Sam and approached the Impala and put her hands on the hood of the car, leaning forward. Dean shot her a death glare the moment she touched the Impala and she said loudly, “Did your manly feelings get hurt by little ol’ me?”
Dean narrowed his eyes, a blank smirk on his face but Buffy could see the intent in his eyes. He wanted to give her back as good as he got and she smiled at him. “Dean, you asked for it.”
Dean rolled his eyes.
“You did. And you know it.” She turned back to Sam and shot him a genuine smile. “Despite big baby, it’s good to see you guys. I’m still not used to this, uh…” Buffy waved her hands. “This method, I guess.”
Sam nodded. “It gets easier.”
Buffy shrugged. “I guess.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Oh god, I just got this cut too.”
“You look like a demon took you upside down with a pineapple,” Dean said from inside the car and Buffy turned, glaring at him and he smirked in silent retribution.