stock: typewriter

fic:dirty little secrets/BtVS, Vampire Diaries/Gen

Title: dirty little secrets
Word Count: 2580
Fandom(s): Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Vampire Diaries
Prompt: #341 mouse tamingthemuse
Warnings:**Spoilers** Vampire Diaries; S:4;E:10 "After School Special"
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. Vampire Diaries and all related characters are copyright of L.J. Smith, Kevin Williams and the CW. No infringement intended.

Note: Part 1 of 2; and a sequel to ‘Been There, Done That’ – written for dana_chosenart


Boot heels crunched the pine needle strewn street as Buffy followed that asphalt away from the relatively small city of Mystic Falls and towards a mythical-type vampire hunter that just happened to be male—which was like seven shade s of weird—and the promise of a house filled with the spirits of dead witches that may, or may not, hold the key to her getting home. She’d learned long ago to take Damon Salvatore at his word at her own peril, but since Dean was off reuniting himself with his family she was free to wander back into the life of the first member of their trio to leave the group.

A trio that had stuck together for the better part of a decade before Damon had split in search of his brother and his lady-love (see obsession) Katherine. Buffy snorted at how well that had turned out for him and lifted her head with the sound of an approaching vehicle. A blue truck came around the corner ahead of her and slowed to a crawl; most likely due to the duffle hanging from her shoulder and the tried and true fact that the people in this area of the United States tended to be of the friendly sort and a smidgen nosey, but Buffy wouldn’t hold it against them if they could at least verify she was heading in the right direction.

The vehicle slowed to a stop and the passenger side window slid into the door, presenting Buffy with the view of a pretty teenage girl who was only giving her a look of mild trepidation. The scent of pizza was suddenly overwhelming and green eyes slipped to the side to take in the magnetic decal stating the teen worked for Lakeside Pizza before she asked, “Did you need help?”

“Hey,” there was a pause before she shrugged, disrupting the duffle on her shoulder and forcing it slid down her arm to the concrete. Buffy glanced at it and frowned before asking, “You wouldn’t happen to know where Duham Lake is?”

The sunglasses lifted, pushing blonde hair back from her face and pair of blue eyes gathered at the corners when she offered Buffy a smile and a nod. “Yeah. It’s about a half-mile behind you.” Her hand rose pointing towards the woods at Buffy’s back and she turned, giving them a once over. The teenager brought her attention back to her by asking, “Anywhere in particular you’re headed on the lake?”

Buffy nodded and dug into the back pocket of her jean shorts to pull out her cellphone—a gift from Dean when she’d ditched him—and scrolled through the last few impatient texts Damon had sent to reach the address and the name of the owner. “Gilbert?”

She looked up and saw recognition before the girl’s smile spread wider. “It’s about two miles behind me.” Her voice took on a hesitant tone even as she offered, “Do you need a—”

“No,” Buffy interrupted her and smiled, “I can handle two miles. It’s this damn GPS,” she shook her phone at the kid, “It seems to steer me wrong every time.”

“Well it looks like it steered right just this once,” She leaned back in her seat and dropped her sunglasses back in place, “Be safe!” was offered in a cheerful tone before the window slid upwards and the truck pulled away.

Buffy watched her go and spared one more glare at her phone before tucking it away. She hefted the duffle up and over head, her brows tugged together when the strap snagged on the messy bun—that she’d just made messier—at the crown of her head before it settled across her chest and the steady breeze that had been tickling against her exposed legs intensified. The knit sweater she wore offered some protection from the chill, but she should’ve changed into jeans, or at least leggings, before starting the miles long trek into the woods since Virginia was a hell of a lot chillier than Florida.

It had taken her three days to hitchhike and, in one instance, coerce others into giving her a ride. The coercion might have happened when a van full of vampires attempted to pick her up for an early morning snack before dawn broke halfway through South Carolina. She was not ashamed of the fact that she’d killed them and stolen their ride, however she was embarrassed that she’d run out of gas twenty miles outside of Mystic Falls—a small footnote in her journey that she had no intention of sharing with Damon.

That little secret was best kept between her, the road and the burnt out husk of vehicle she’d left a quarter mile off the main highway. Which was what led her to finishing the last two miles to the Gilbert home in her most comfortable boots and humming a tune she couldn’t remember the words to as the sun continued its steady slop downward. She hit a gravel driveway after the second bend in the road and with much trepidation she checked her cellphone and it did indeed tell her to follow it. Trusting technology and a teenager girl’s sense of direction, she turned onto it and found the trees and vegetation thickening around her, blocking the sun and bringing the temperature lower.

Goosebumps rose along the exposed skin of her legs and she frowned down at them a moment, since she’d shaved them that morning, before trekking on until the gravel gave way to dirt and two rather large, log type buildings. Green tiles covered the roofs; the color echoed in the front and garage doors and it all looked very woodsy and so very much not her thing. A shrug of her shoulders adjusted the strap across her chest as she finished the few yards to the front door and brought a closed fist against it once—just resisting the urge to knock three times and call for Damon.

The door opened before her hand made it back to her side and she was staring up into a pair of familiar blue eyes she hadn’t seen in nearly two years—the scowl he was aiming her way was familiar as well.

“What in the hell took you so long?” He emphasized the word ‘took’ with a dip of his chin before he clarified a point she already knew by grousing, “I called you three days ago.”

“Well hello to you too!” The smile she flashed him was all teeth and her voice was a thinly veiled threat as she continued, “I’m great. Thanks for asking.”

“No,” He snapped, “You’re late.”

A hand found its way to his chest and shoved, knocking him back several feet so she could enter the lodge—or she supposed lodge was the right word. He continued to glare as she took a moment to look around and she nodded while explaining, “This’ll do.”

“So glad you like the accommodations,” sarcasm was not lacking in that response.

“I’m so glad the love of an honest woman,” Buffy frowned and hastily corrected, “Vampire,” before shaking her and making her way past him down the hall as she continued, “Didn’t change you. You’re still as much of an ass as you ever where.”

“I’d reference pots and kettles, but…” he trailed off and shrugged.

She paused, ignoring him as she glanced at the family photos lining the walls before Buffy turned back and offered, “I’d hug you hello, but I stink.”

“Yes,” His smile was tight-lipped and bitchy, “You do.”

“Bite me,” green eyes narrowed, hands balling into fists at her side as Buffy’s tone became challenging, “I dare you.”

He smirked—the smirk she’d grown to adore and dread—before he shook his head. “I think I almost missed you.”

“Think? You? I didn’t know that was in the Damon Salvatore repertoire. ” He caught her gaze and she met it unafraid, compulsion and Slayers seemed to get along about as well as oil and water, and slowly the smirk slipped into something softer, more intimate and the moment between them began to chafe since he was in love with someone else and the intimate moments they’d shared were at an end.

“I need a shower.” She broke the moment and his smirk was back as Buffy talked over any comment he was about to make, “Save it. I’m shower bound and just so you know,” She flashed him her own version of his smirk, “I fully intend to steal your shampoo and conditioner while I’m in there.”

“Don’t you always?” He motioned her to get going, “Hurry up. The little hunter will be back any minute.”

Realizing belatedly, and rather stupidly, they were alone in the house she asked, “Where is he anyways?”

“Running around the lake with a hungry friend.”


Though Buffy thought she heard gunshots while in the shower the lack of shouting and cries of pain allowed her to remain under the hot water and actually enjoy herself. Hotels had fantastic water heaters but more often than not the water pressure was lacking and the scent of Damon’s shampoo leaned toward the divine and his conditioner did wonders for her hair.

Hair that was currently tucked beneath an oversized towel as she wrestled a pair of jeans up her still damp legs—the next time she’d remember to bring a second towel in with her—and sighed once they were up and over her hips. The tank top and thermal shirt were an easier fit, even with the towel, and she settled them before giving her reflection in the fogged mirror a critical once over and her gaze settled on her unlined and still youthful face.

It had been Dean that noticed her lack of aging and Damon that had brought her to a witch who lived just outside of Atlanta to confirm something Tara hadn’t been able to sense—or perhaps she’d been unwilling to admit—that Buffy had indeed come back wrong. Dean had been the one to help her mourn the part of her humanity that she’d lost, but it was Damon that helped her embrace the fact that she’d never age. Though Bree had seemed certain that she wasn’t invulnerable and the still fading scar from the bullet she’d taken last year seemed to lend credence to that belief. She pressed a thumb to her sternum and could feel the slight indented that remained and reminded Buffy of her struggle to breathe while trapped in a hospital bed.

She turned from the mirror and the real reason Dean, despite his protests to the contrary, had distanced himself from her as of late. Instead she left the bathroom to head back towards the bedroom she’d hijacked as two guys wondered up the stairs while playing a verbal game of one-upmanship and the banter reminded her fondly of earlier times with Damon and Dean. Though they seemed to lack the undercurrent of violence that always shadowed the competition between the vampires, which was what usually lead to them trading blows by the end.

The taller of the pair, but only slightly so, noticed her first and brown eyes narrowed on her as they reached the landing and Buffy inclined her head as she met his gaze and quirked a brow. He didn’t break eye contact, as she’d expected, and instead continued to hold her gaze for several long and apparently uncomfortable seconds for the other teenager as he cleared his throat and stepped forward, drawing her gaze and breaking the silent moment. “Hi, I’m Matt.”

She glanced down at the hand he offered, perhaps a bit too long, since it began to drop before she stepped forward and caught it. A callused palm sat warm against her own and Buffy returned his smile and nodded, “Buffy,” she further explained, “would be me.” She caught the twisting of the other guy’s mouth and flicked her gaze to him while still holding Matt’s hand before stating, “And the mocking of my name is strictly forboden.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Matt withdrew his hand and slapped it against the other teen’s chest, “Would we, Jer.”

“Right,” he smile lost some of its edge as he offered his hand to her, “Jeremy.”

Buffy turned towards him, careful to keep Matt in her peripheral vision, as she accepted the shake and the tightening of his grip told her, better than Damon ever could, that he wasn’t yet ready for the big leagues, regardless of what the markings inching up his forearm meant. She didn’t flinch at the steady tightening, but merely waited for him to finish. Growing bored with Jeremy’s version of a pissing contest she turned, her hand still under tight control, to Matt and offered, “Showers free. I might have saved you some hot water.”

“Thanks.” He frowned down at their clasped hands and the whitening of Jeremy’s knuckles before offering her a worried look. “You might want to let off, man.”

“He’s too busy figuring who’s the cat.” Buffy turned her focus back to Jeremy and smiled, “And who’s the mouse.” She flexed her fingers, felt the bones in Jeremy’s hand roll as she tightened her grip and brought a strangled sound from him as she finished, voice soft, “I’d meow but…” she trailed off with that thought and shrugged.

Matt tensed beside her and she released Jeremy’s hand, taking several steps back and watched the teenager flex his fingers, a soft grunt escaping him. He gazed down at his hand a moment, cradled it with the other before he lifted his gaze to her and muttered, “How?”

Blue eyes looked over Jeremy before they settled accusingly on Buffy and she frowned at him. “What? Do I really need to say who,” she looked pointedly at Jeremy before finishing with, “started it?”

His head inclined and the disapproving look he treated her to reminded Buffy oddly of Giles and that brought her arms up to cross defensively over her chest. Jeremy shook his head before dropping his hands to his sides, the injured one still slowly opening and closing, “Matt, it was me.” He frowned, “I’m not sure why. I usually have better control than that around vamp—”

“Not a vampire,” She interrupted, glancing around the hallway they filled, “’sides you didn’t invite me in. Remember?”

“So what are you?”

Matt’s question narrowed her eyes and he had the grace to look sheepish at his own question as Buffy snapped, “I’m what’s going to keep your asses safe.”


“Is an exceptional whittler,” she frowned at the both of them, “but when it comes to fighting he relies on his vampire abilities a little too much. I’m human,” she frowned, “For the most part to answer your question,” Matt opened his mouth, but she spoke over him—apparently that was her thing now—explaining, “I fight vampires like a human. Perhaps stronger than the average Joe, but I’ve got none of that flashy speed or super healing.” She resisted the urge to stroke her sternum again and instead focused on Jeremy. “And neither do you.”

“How exactly do you know Damon?”

She smiled and explained, “I met that asshole several years ago when he attempted to feed me to his protégé.”

Matt frowned and asked, “And that was a good thing?”

“It was a great thing.” She watched them exchange a glance before distracting them with, “So Damon mentioned there was pizza?”

Oh I hope there will be more. It's a very good start. Love it that Damon has a soft spot. Namely Buffy.
I've already started the next scene so the ending to this ficlet will be posted soonish.

Damon is just fun to write. His layers are deeper and tend to be far more interesting than Stefan's - at least for me.

Edited at 2013-02-03 08:45 pm (UTC)
There needs to be more (well written) fics with this crossover. Glad to see this, it was great, looking forward to the next part.
Oh I just re-read that, sounded like I was saying your fic isn't well written, it is! Sorry! These are of my two favourite shows and there aren't many fics out there that I know of with Buffy as the main character at least,.The ones I've started to read made me cringe so I'm relieved to find another good one from you.

Edited at 2013-02-04 10:52 am (UTC)
I didn't take it that way at all so no worries and thank you. :) I think Vampire Diaries and BtVS crossovers can come off as intimidating to some since you have to mesh to 'verses that at first glance aren't particularly mesh'able. Or at least I don't find them all that mesh'able, but I do adore a challenge.

Thank you for commenting!
*sigh* I'm gonna have to start watching this show soon. I do have two mommy me days in a row coming up later in the month, maybe i can squeeze some watching into them since there will be no one to interupt me then. :D

Silly boys, they're gonna learn to not mess with Buffy. Love the worldbuilding you are doing and I can't wait to get caught up on the show. :D
I'd say yes, You do really need to start watching so that you can squee with me over plot points and the like. ;) Plus; pretty people! It gets a little melodramatic at times and the Stefan/Elena relationship irks beyond reason, but the villains of the series more than make up for it.

They're teenagers. They'll never learn. ;)