Dream Lover

(co-written with Art_of_Mayhem)

Dean was looking about the shack, not seeing much of anything. Maybe Sam got the location wrong? Maybe so did Ellen. It had been known to happen, some sources could be wrong. He didn't see any signs of life. And this didn't seem like a typical place for a jinn to be. Normally they were in larger run-down buildings. Not little shacks.

He walked around the back. He didn't hear the movement behind him or sense it either. He looked up at the stars, noting the slit moon and Venus shining bright. She was out late. Suddenly, he felt his body being slammed against wood and found a very ugly tattooed face before him as he tried to push back. Before he knew it, a hand was slapped to his forehead and Dean's world whited-out.

He was dragged into the house by the jinn. A floor door was lifted and Dean was carried down into the darkness. In the basement, bodies hanged from the ceiling. Some fully drained of blood, others half alive or on the edge of death. Dean was tied up, suspended by a hook, and a needle was placed into his neck. His blood drained from the needle into the attached bag. It was a slow drip, going to take days, possibly a week before he was dead.

Dean had tried to wake when he felt the needle go in. He was half aware of where he was. Mostly not. He could partially see blurred bodies. Then the thing was before him and looking at his needle. Dean could feel the body heat from it. It touched his needle and pulled the hose to taste Dean’s blood. It shivered and moaned, licking its lips for it hadn't tasted this kind of essence from a human before. This one was special. Something about him was special.

The world whited-out again.

*

Dean found himself on a strange couch. He looked about then got up to walk around. Where was he?

"You again." Buffy felt her entire body respond to him, and he hadn't even crooked a finger. She scooted away, trying to put some distance between them. McDreamy and McSteamy had nothing on this guy.

Dean looked down at her, "Aww you remembered. ‘Course I can be pretty unforgettable." He smiled at Buffy, feeling relieved to see a pretty, sexy and familiar face. Body too.

"Course you can have a pretty big head," she shot back, angry about the way he kept showing up... the way he kept drawing her into his games, then disappearing. "You need to find someone else to play with," she said, lifting her chin and meeting those unbelievably green eyes.

Dean grinned, "Well thank you, I do have a... pretty big head," He gave a chuckle. "But I thought you liked playing with me?" He gave her a hurt look.

"No... I don't," she said, shaking her head too quickly, trying hard not to think of the ways he'd gotten her to play with him. Why was it so hard to resist? Why did he always make her laugh or find some other chink in her armor?

Dean sat down beside her, getting a little too close, arms resting on his knees and looking back at her, "Yes, you do. Or you'd be beating the crap out of me right now..."

Heat emanated from his body. She swallowed hard, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. It wasn't fair... no one should hold the power to do this. "It’s a spell, it has to be," she answered, trying to make sense of that which didn't. "What do you want?"

Dean leaned back, sprawling beside her, "Want to say Christo to me? It's not a spell." He’d placed an arm behind her but he bent it to move a stray strand she missed, his fingers brushing her. "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave," she whispered, her voice strangely husky and at odds with her demand and with the way her gaze was locked onto his mouth. "I want to be left alone."

He turned to face her, noticing how she was looking at his lips. Unlike her, Dean was scared to be left alone in the world. He lost so much and if he was left alone, he knew the rest of him would fall. "No one, especially someone like you, should be completely alone." He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. She was so warm, soft.

She pressed her cheek into his knuckles, her mouth grazing his fingers. "You're the one that leaves. You always leave," she pointed out, knowing it would be no different... he'd trick her, he’d have her eating out of his hand, and then leave her … she'd be all alone with nothing to help her douse the fire he started.

"Well, maybe it's because I want you to find me? You want to find me... but you won't let yourself because you’re scared once you do..." He traced her lips with this thumb.

She closed her eyes against the feelings washing over her, unconsciously parting her lips under his calloused finger. "Oh God, Dean..." was that even his real name? She swayed toward him, wishing she was kicking his ass for doing this to her, instead of being drawn like a moth to a fire.

Dean slid his hand behind her head, tipping his down as he pulled her closer to him, his lips brushed hers, "Don't you want to find me, Buffy?" His mouth barely moved against hers.

"Yes I want you... you make me want you... damn you," she gripped his shoulders and brought him up flush against her body. "Stop playing with me." Bringing her mouth down hard over his, she took what she wanted... what he made her want.

Dean returned her kiss, his tongue seeking hers and twining with it. A hand gripped her hair while his other arm curled around her, pressing her against him. He moaned a little bit, pushing into her and making her bend back just a bit. He pulled back finally so both of them could breathe. "You don't think you make me want you? We make an adorable couple, admit it. Besides... isn't the sex hot. Wild? Leave you aching for more?"

"That's the problem... you don't stay." She locked gazes with him, wanting him so bad she was about to push him back on the sofa again. "You tease... you make me think it'll be different, and then..." Tears of frustration burned her eyes as she leaned in and rubbed herself against him.

"It's not a tease," Dean looked at her. "Say... wanna do it in the woods? Get you some grass stains? Some bark scratches on that lovely back, crown of flowers in your hair. Bet you would delicious laid out in the green grass with me over you as your blanket."

He was trying to slip away again, tricking her. She pushed him back, holding him tight... she wasn't going to let him go if it was at all possible. Slowly lowering herself over him, she felt his erection press into her belly. A pleading sound broke from her. "Please don't... not again Dean, please give me this one time."

"But I can give you more. All you want and then some," he breathed against her and rocked his hips up, his hand on the small of her back. His other reached up, brushing her hair back, "Com'on, let's go out to the woods."

As he molded her close, she felt every plane of his body under her. Needing more, she shifted, aligning herself right over him so the next time he raised his hips, his erection rubbed against her core. She started to thrust, needing this, needing the fire that was building between them, and seeking out his mouth. "No more talking, kiss me," she demanded in response to the building of pressure.

Dean surged up to kiss Buffy, covering her lips with an intense kiss. His mouth gave her what she craved. His tongue curled around hers, tasting her and more. He thrust his hips up, giving a groan at the heat he encountered between those still covered legs. He sat up, holding her tightly to him, forcing her to straddle his legs. "Don't you think we should go someplace more comfortable?"

This new position made her all sorts of aware of him. Thinking... talking... definitely out of the question. She never got why he got her going and then wanted to talk, or leave. Here she was, her heart thundering in her chest, her blood rushing, her need, building… how could he? Lifting up, she came down hard on him, again and again, crying out as heat pooled between her legs each time they came together.

Every time he kissed her, every time his palm slid over her breast, every time he gripped her hip to lengthen the period of contact between them before letting her lift up, she lost a little more of herself. "Oh God, Dean... Plea--"

He was gone. Again. Just like that.

Buffy woke in a sweat, her body on fire, his scent still in her nostrils, his taste on her tongue. Squirming, twisting the sheets that had bunched up between her legs, she felt tears of frustration. Who the hell was that guy in her dreams. Why the hell was she having them? Lifting her head, she looked at the alarm and saw it was 3:00 a.m. Same time she'd awakened last night, and the night before.
* * *

Dean's eyes fluttered open, barely taking in his surroundings. His arms were aching, his neck hurt. Everything was blurry. He gave a moan, trying to move his head but the strength wasn't there, it just hung. He could hear other moans, a girl's voice murmuring but couldn't hear or understand what she was saying.

The one thing Dean was aware of was that he was hard, needy and if he could get release it would have felt good. He also had this taste in his mouth. Sweet, luscious and there was this scent drifting about him. He could almost still feel her hands upon him. The heat of her body seeming to still keep him warm. He laid his head against his arm.

She was real, not a dream. She had to be. He had to try and contact her again, get her to find him. He felt something touching him and he jerked. It was that thing. The Jinn. He was checking on Dean and he was behind him. Dean groaned his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

***
Rest and relaxation. Meditation. That’s what Giles had said she needed when he sent her on a forced vacation to Breckenridge, Colorado and even rented a cabin for her. And here she was... so NOT relaxed.

Okay the days were fine. Full of empty-schedule-goodness. She got to walk around the town that was about a fifteen-minute walk, or a five-minute run from the cabin. There wasn’t a whole lot to do because it was really a winter resort and she’d come in the summer, but that was the point. And the food at the little mom and pops restaurants that she tended to gravitate to was unbelievable.
But the nights were hard. And getting harder.

It was so bad that she dreaded falling asleep. Who would mind having hot dreams of some guy that really got to ‘em? Well if the dreams always left her wanting him for real, Buffy Summers, that’s who.

Maybe she’d stay up all night, she told herself, as she turned the radio on and stepped into the bathtub. A nice hot bath, then maybe some t.v. or a book, well not so much a book cause she’d probably be asleep within the first five pages.

As the hot water surrounded her body and she lay back, some of her stress melted away. All she had to do was think of other things , things not having to do with eyes that could melt an iceberg and a voice so velvety smooth you’d follow it anywhere.

*

"Here you go, gorgeous," Dean sat the fruity drink down by Buffy before giving her neck a kiss. He climbed into the water beside her. "Whoa, get those jets pointed just right, could have some fun." He took a drink of his beer before setting it aside and moving across to her. "So did you miss me while I was gone?"

“Huh?” For an instant, Buffy was confused. Wasn’t this a private hot tub? And who was this guy who was kissing her and giving her goosebumps even in warm water? Then it came to her, and gave him a guarded look. “No. I never miss you.” But her prickly gaze said otherwise... She wasn’t gonna let him get her in that state again, just not gonna.

"Oh, that hurt," Dean gave her a pout before leaning in and kissing her softly on the lips. He smiled as he pulled back, going back to the spot across from her. "Yes you did. Would it make a difference if I said I missed you?"

“Nope. Because you’re a liar,” she said, lifting her chin and trying to force her pulse rate back to normal. He’s a jerk, he’s doing it again. Don’t let him. She kept telling herself that, like a mantra that would keep her safe from him.

"Now tell me what have I lied to you about? For once in my life, I'm being honest to a girl," he took another drink of his beer then moved back over to sit beside her.

Feeling his thigh pressing against hers, she gritted her teeth. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. “I know what you’re all about.” Not wanting to show any sign of weakness, she fought against the instinct to flee to the other side of the hot tub. “Got your number Dean... you get your rocks off torturing me. That stops here.”

Dean tipped his head, leaning in and kissing her neck. "So you know all about me? Got my number and yet you don't call." He rubbed his nose against her ear. He reached up, grasping her chin and turning her head towards him, "Am I torturing you? Or are you torturing yourself by not just... seeing what is in front of you?"

She didn’t want to react... really didn’t want to, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own when he was near. Already, her nipples were tightening, peaking under the white bikini top... aching. Gripping the edges of the underwater seat, if only to prevent herself from touching him... from begging him to kiss her again, this time lower...

Buffy tried to pull away, but he held her... forced her to meet his eyes. “It’s always the same. You trick me into thinking it can be different, that you’ll...” she wasn’t gonna beg. Biting her lip, she gave him a mulish look. Damn him... why the hell couldn’t she just pick him up and throw him out? Why did her body have to betray her like this?

"That I'll what?" Dean asked as he grabbed her and pulled her to him, forcing her to straddle is lap. He slipped his arms around her. "Things can be different, if you... take a walk in the woods." He smiled up at her.

She hissed at the jolt of heat that went through her. Damn him... damn him for feeling so good, damn him for making her knees close around his thighs... for making her feel both weak and powerful at the same time. “I don’t believe—“
Her eyes widened when she realized what she felt against her belly... her gaze dropped down to confirm he wasn’t wearing shorts. Burying her face into his neck, she complained. “God I hate you.”

Dean gave a chuckle and was pulling at the white string at her back. "No you don't," He used his other hand to grip her hair and pull it, arching her neck. He ran his lips over her neck. "C'mon Buffy, find me... like the man of your dreams. Adorable." He pulled her in to kiss her deeply.

“No.” It was a low, weak whisper. Her mind railed against this, even as her body succumbed to the flames licking up her throat, everywhere his mouth touched her, burning her lips, sweeping her once again into a tangle of uncontrollable desires like she’d never known.
She tried to rebel, tried to take control over the kiss, to duel his tongue as if it were a battle she intended to win. But she’d learned this lesson before, sometimes winning a battle did not mean winning a war.

And sometimes, it only helped the other side.

In demanding he give her more, she got more... more of his hands all over her, more of the sounds he made from the back of his throat when she pushed herself up and down the length of his body, trying to ease the ache in her breasts and the pulsing heat between her legs. More of everything that made her want him. She had to stop this... had to... and she would... in like three minutes.

Dean dragged Buffy up his body so her breasts were level to his mouth and he covered one pert nipple, giving a sucking wet kiss. He moaned over her, dragging his mouth to the other side. All the while the fingers of one hand had slipped down over her butt and between her legs, rubbing at her.

Oh God... he was everywhere, making her arch back, making her crazy on so many levels. She gripped the back of his head as his mouth and tongue teased her... dipped under the now loosened material of her bikini. And his hand... she moved her hips furiously, chasing his finger, harder... faster... she threw her head back. “Yes, yes.... don’t stop... don’t stop,” she said things, words that made no sense... just wanting him... wanting him... and so close... so very close.

"Find me in the woods," Dean whispered as he looked up at her. "Please."

“Nooooo!” Buffy screamed her protest so loud at his disappearance that the sound woke her up. She gripped the sides of the bathtub as she slowly came to her senses, her legs still sliding restlessly up and down against each other, tightening at the juncture of her inner thighs as she tried to hold on to the image and sensations of her dream lover’s hand pleasuring her.

“God damnit ... fucking... hell!” she slammed both hands in the water, pushing away from her body, and creating a wave that splashed loudly out of the tub and onto the floor.

* * *

Gripping the phone and holding it to hear ear, Buffy paced back and forth across the small living room area of the cabin, right in front of the fire place. "Okay, they've been coming every night, and I don't think they're just dreams Giles."

"Buffy, try to concentrate."

"I am!"

"Right, well, I've asked you the nature of these dreams three times..."

"Oh, that..."

"Yes, that. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not," she all but squeaked and paced quicker. "They're... well this guy Dean's in them, and he's... he's always getting me to do... Stuff."

"Stuff."

"Right, EXACTLY... stuff."

"No... I'm apparently not being clear enough. When you say stuff, what do you mean? Break it down into elements for me."

Buffy almost choked. She could imagine Giles sitting at his desk, taking notes. "Things... things that guys and girls do. Together."

"Let's see... things that guys, and you say girls, do tog--"

She shook her head. "You know, in bed... only not always in bed..."

"Yes, I get your drift..."

"Sometimes it’s against the wall, other times in the hot tub... or..."

"Buffy, I understand, you don't have to--"

"When I least expect it, on the couch. It's like he's got this magic touch and when he touches me, I--"

"Buffy! Good Lord, I've slept with women, I ..."

"Ewww, Giles! Really did not need that visual," she protested her nose wringling.

"The feeling is quite mutual. Does he say anything during these dreams?"

"You mean other than yes, yes and ahhh..." The silence told her to move on. "Yeah, he keeps asking me to leave and go to the woods or something. But by the time he asks, we're all..."

"Hot and bothered. Really, I do understand."

"Just hot. Maybe very hot... yeah on the very hot side of hot... Giles?"

"Yes?"

"You're not taking notes, are you?" She heard the sound of a pencil hitting a pad, and let out her breath.

"It could be one of a number of phenomenons. If I had to guess, I'd say he's either calling for help because his corporeal self is unable to do something, or you're being lured. It could be a trap--"

"No. It's not that. He's a pain in the ass--"

"Buffy!"

"Nooooo.... I didn't mean that way," she flushed. "I mean he's... you'd have to meet him. Some kinda impossible smart aleck with balls the size of--"

"Buffy!"

"Noooo... I didn't mean that kinda... okay, nevermind. So he could be asking for help. What do I do?"

"You see where he wants to take you in the dream. Then when you wake up, you determine whether it's safe to actually go there. Do you want to wait a few days, I could come up there."

"No!" Yeah, she could just imagine Giles in the other room while she was having one of her dream. So not happening.

"Right then, I'll want all the details."

"The details. You want to hear the--"

"I'll speak with you in the morning." A decisive click signaled the end of the phone call.


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