SPN/BtVS/TC - 31 (response) - Razor's Edge
Title: RAZOR'S EDGE
Series: Trip My Wire
Part 3 in series
Author: charming_syrai
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer // Supernatural // [eventually Tru Calling]
Characters: Faith/Dean
Prompt: #031 response
Word Count: about 3878
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language
Spoilers: explains some happenings occuring during "Dead Man's Blood"
Summary: "No," she says, "and if I were you I'd probably want the same thing, but the answer is still no. You'd just fuck it up."
Disclaimer: Not mine. Neither Faith nor Dean belongs to me, although if I’d very much love if they did. Same goes for the world they live in that I’ve mixed up from the fandoms mentioned above. Since I’m not getting any money out of this, you really don’t want to sue me, oki?
Prompt Table here
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
Author’s Note: I was in the mood for some Dean/Faith lovin' so. I was having major issues at first with this one cause I kept thinking Dean is getting over Sam's death too damn fast, but then I realised, he's never gonna get over it. That's not something you get over with, ever. You deal with it and you can act as if you were ok, but you never get over it. That made everything much easier, realising Dean has his own unique way of dealing with all the crap, and so, here it is, third piece in the Trip My Wire series written for 50scenes
{WHY the hell does my comp always restart itself when I'm writing, huh, HUH?! I'm starting to get really pissed off with this thing!}
Oh, btw, it's written in first pov just cause I felt like doing so, but rest of the series will probably be written from third pov... ::shrugs::
She's stayed with me for nine days when she finally tells me she's taking off. Says she's not worried about me anymore, not now that I'm eating, drinking and showering again, and that she's got some things of her own to take care of. We're sitting in a bar, she on the other side of the round table with a beer on her hand, me on the other. We're here only because she insisted on me getting out of the motel room and if you've ever fought with a slayer, you know how damn difficult it is to beat one. I mean, verbally, sure, but when she goes threading to throw you over her shoulder and carry you, your male ego lifts its head pretty strongly to protect you from such fucked up humiliation.
Something told me she would've gone and tried to go through with it if I'd given her the chance and I didn't wanna risk it.
So, yeah, I didn't wanna come here at first, but being here and drinking beer, it feels comforting in this very fucking weird way that I can't explain. I dunno, feels like nothing's changed. Like any minute now Sam will come from the bathroom, looking bored and annoyed, whining how he's not enjoying himself in this wretched hole; we should be at the motel, dude, faces glued to the damn laptop until we're half-blind, doing research on the newest fucker.
But I guess that's not going to happen, is it?
No, guess not. Funny thing, though, I haven't even tried calling Dad yet to tell him what's happened, it's like I keep wishing things will magically change. That he'll come back. So I don't call Dad, cause that makes it official. 'Sides, I don't wanna hear it, he doesn't have to tell me I fucked up bad, I know it already.
"Anyway, the room's paid for another two days, in case you wanna crash there for now. Didn't know if you have some place to go so..." Faith says awkwardly and with nothing else to do, brings the beer to her lips and drinks.
Totally sidetracking here, but is it weird I love a girl who can drink? Not to mention eat. Cause I swear, she can do both. Makes me wonder what else she's good at.
Right, back to the subject.
Honestly speaking, I didn't think she'd even stay for this long, and then it suddenly hits me. She's actually talking about leaving, which means I'm gonna be alone and so without thinking twice, I blurt it out.
"No, stay."
Dude. Smooth. Wasn't gonna say that, you know, but not like I can take it back. I mean I could, but that'd be just fucking ridiculous.
"Dean, you know, you're gonna have to move on with your life eventually."
"Fuck you," I snap back harshly, 'cause this Dr. Phill bull really isn't what I need and I think we both know that. She shrugs, but not apologizing, never apologizing, and gulps down another mouthful of her beer gazing our surroundings somewhat nonchalantly. Although, if I stare enough, I could swear I can see an amused smirk playing with the corners of her mouth, but I'm not totally sure.
The thing is, with her, I never am.
I kinda like it that way.
Okay, while we're at it, let's get something straight. Just in case some asshole's reading me wrong here and to save ourselves from unwanted misunderstandings later on.
I'm the Dean Winchester, a rogue demon hunter who's damn good at what he does and should be paid millions, only isn't, 'cause life's fucked up and that's that. And I'm not afraid of the dark, either, so it's not like I'm telling her to stay here 'cause I need protection. I'm no little girl, I can protect my own manly ass just fine. Being alone doesn't fucking scare me. I've been hunting alone every now and then even before I got laid for the first time, ok?
But I'm no liar either, not usually. Fine, maybe I am. So I lie to others, but I don't like lying to myself and well. I'd be lying if I said her presence doesn't chase away my demons. Not all, but some, and at the moment it's really the best one can do and right now, it's all I'm asking for. Yeah, I did notice how damn lame that one sounds. Big deal, get over it.
Just don't wanna be alone with the fucking demons, get it?
"Where'd you go anyway?"
Why the hell do I have to sound so clingy? This is embarrassing. Although, thinking back, she's pretty much seen me in my worst so when compared, this is nothing. But still, not good.
"I was working when I ran into you," she explains and I notice how her voice pitches a little - not exactly comfortable subject for me either, but so far she's been good with handling the issue. Instead of dancing around the subject in fear of hurting my feelings, she always speaks her mind, even when it's something I don't wanna hear. She doesn't force me to talk about it, but she talks about it whether I like it or not, and by doing so she sort of forces me to deal with it, too. No idle crap about how it's going to get better someday, how time heals all wounds and no wasted apologies.
Faith never says she's sorry.
"Need to finish it," Faith continues, dragging my attention back to her.
Need to finish it? At first it doesn't ring a bell in my head, but then it comes to me. It was day number three when I asked her about it. You know, her being so fucking strong, which in my book isn't normal for a girl. She didn't wanna talk about it at first, said I wouldn't believe her anyway if she told, to which I cynically pointed out that it was a fucking vampire that killed my brother not so long ago.
She looked at me and said, yeah, it was. But she hadn't been sure if I'd actually realized that. People tend to create explanations and excuses when they see stuff that doesn't fit their ordinary world, she said, and I agreed.
After which I told her I'm a demon hunter.
Through it all, she didn't even fidget or look uncomfortable when I mentioned my brother, but then when I said the word 'demon hunter', she laughed. Laughed to the point of water coming out of her eyes, saying it was the stupidest thing she's ever heard.
A demon hunter, come on.
I still don't get what was so fucking funny, but I don't care, it was nice to hear her thick laugh. Made me feel normal for a second there and I think I cracked a small smile. But then, trying to tell her I really AM a demon hunter and explaining what happened to my mother and Sam's girl, how I lived my childhood, it kind of dropped my ass back to reality and trust me, that drop - it was damn cold.
"Oh yeah, the whole supernatural slayer thing," I say, leaning back on the chair, tasting the beer. It's not good, I don't know what cheap shit she ordered, I didn't listen, but I drink it anyway. Beer's never to be wasted, after all. I grimace slightly, trying to of course hide it, and put the thing down on the table, wiping my mouth clean.
"Keep your voice down, idiot," Faith hisses at me shriveling, glancing around to see if anyone's close enough to hear us, which actually amuses me a bit. She says she's no amateur but things like that, they make me wonder.
There's no one around, of course, and when she comes to the same conclusion her eyes return on me - which, weirdly, is where I want them to be. The bar's practically deserted - if we don't count the bartender, two drunken guys singing, or blurring, bar songs to each other and the loudly playing jukebox, then it is.
"Hey, relax," I put in cockily, "we did this all the time with Sammy in bars all over the country and no one ever heard anything." The memory actually makes me smile and I'm guessing that's why she chooses not to fight with me on the issue. Nice to know she's that fond of my smile.
They usually are, aren't they?
"Fine, whatever," she chucks, tossing her hair back. I've noticed it's something she always does when she feels cornered or threatened. I'm not talking about real danger in the sense of five-headed vampire gang rounding her up, but like... maybe I'm imagining it, but I've been getting the vibes she's not used to dealing with people and when they dare to disagree, she flares up or gets all defensive. People and emotions, they're what corner her and she doesn't like it.
That's actually why it's surprising she didn't try and leave sooner.
"So," I drawl after a moment, placing my elbows on the table and leaning closer to her, "you going after that thing?" Maybe it's wrong of me to try use my charm on her, but if it works with most of the female population, I'm counting on it to work on her too. She can't seriously be thinking I'll let her go after it alone, if that's the case.
She's maybe been hunting it for some time now, but I share a fucking history with this thing. Only, Faith doesn't know that.
I see her shaking her head and the look on her face, it's sad. Not pitying, but sad. And so is her voice when she speaks, "Dean..."
"You are," I rush in before she can even think of finishing that sentence, "You're going after that fucker."
Yeah, she was gonna go after that thing and she wasn't going to take me with her? What's wrong with this picture, huh? Faith, she's not stupid, of course she knows. She knows I wanna be there, wanna kill that son of a bitch who sank its teeth into my own flesh and blood.
Into Sam.
"Look, I know what you're gonna say and the answer is no," the slayer says firmly and slams the beer down on the table nearly spilling it.
"Oh? What was I gonna say?" I try, tracing my mug's handle with my fingers and with my game face on.
She snorts, rolling her eyes before they land on me with a knowing gleam.
"You want revenge," the way she says it, she makes it sound like the easiest thing on earth.
I want revenge? Ok, yeah, but come on. "Well, can you blame me?" I ask, serious, and she sighs. Guess we're on the same page here, then. Good.
"No," she says after a minute of silence spent with me giving her looks and her ignoring them, "and if I were you I'd probably want the same thing, but the answer is still no. You'd just fuck it up."
Oh, wow. Harsh, woman. "Huh?" I bet the look on my face is as dumbfounded as my voice is. I mean, did she just imply I - Dean Winchester - would screw up a hunt? Never, dude.
We've definitely gotta have a little chat about this one, the manly kind, not the whiney girly type. "Are you saying I'm not good enough?"
Ok, admittedly, that was a bit girly. Maybe she didn't notice it.
"No, I'm saying that despite your neat little facade you're pretty emotional guy."
Great. She noticed.
"You'd fuck it up by letting those emotions take control of you, and I'm not gonna watch you do it."
That hurts. I don't know if it's because she dares to suggest I'd let my emotions take over or because she's saying I'm having a rigging facade on, but either way, I'm not liking this.
Her words refuse to leave me and I'm trying my best to stay calm. It's not me who always let's his emotions go on a roll. Fuck, that's Sam, ok? Not me. But she doesn't know that, because she doesn't know me. She doesn't know it's the one fucking thing I always tried to teach Sam so that he wouldn't go and get himself killed, because he's having a fucking conscience dictating his every single move.
Look how that turned out, will you?
"Look, I don't mean to offend you, God knows I've done enough of that with others," she snorts sounding very much sarcastic in my ears, and I'm getting the feeling she saw a memory flash in front of her eyes just now, "but that's how it is."
Ok, think, Dean, think. There must be someway to change her mind, there's got to be something I can throw into the conversation here. There's always something, dude. Haven't you watched that movie? You know, the one with that cute chick always tying her hair up? Yeah, that movie.
"I've met that vampire before," I say hastily. Well, I have!
She blinks, cocking her head to one side. Not looking so sure anymore, are we? No, cause now there's this insecure, suspicious look on her face as she eyes me trying to pick up a trace of lies. But it's not gonna happen since I'm not lying, so.
"What?" She snorts out in disbelief, as if she'd be amused and laughing at my sucky joke.
"We were hunting down this one gun that we needed to waste the son of a bitch who killed mom, you know," I start explaining and her eyes, I swear they lit up sparkling. She's easy that way, always craving for action. "We followed the gun to a freakin' vampire nest, cause this one vampire gang had it and..." I shrug indifferently, knowing the less details I tell, the more she'll ask, "well, it was a fucking mess."
And so she does, "What happened?"
"Dad happened," I answer matter-of-factly, pleased by the fact I got her interested, "He killed Kate's mate."
Her eyebrow quirks into a question and she stops playing with her hair. She has this habit of twirling a lock of hair around her finger whenever she's concentrating on something and I find it weird somehow. That's something giggling little kids do, not Faith, not a slayer who never wants to give out her weaknessess. Being in deep thoughts and letting it show, well, that could get one seriously injured or worse.
"Kate?" She asks with a frown wrinkling her forehead.
"Oh, that's the bitch's name," I reply with a bad taste in my mouth. If I'd killed her that day, none of this would have happened. Sam would still be here. Why the fuck did we let them go? We could've come up with some way to kill them all, I'm sure of it. For fuck's sake, they were just vampires.
Faith looks surprised, which actually surprises me in turn - after everything she's told me about her own life, what's so weird about the fact I happen to know its name?
"You're on a name-basis with a vampire?" She asks sounding disgusted. If I wanted to be picky and analyze, I'd call her on for sounding jealous.
"Hey, no fair, you're too. You told me so."
Yeah, that's true, but still she keeps staring at me as if I was a nuttie person on the run from a cuckoos' nest. "But my vampire has a soul!" She protests.
Finally it's my turn to snort and roll my eyes. "And you say it like it'd mean something. That's no excuse, girl," I point out, grabbing my beer again, lifting it from the table, "'Sides, she's not my vampire. So, she kissed me once, yeah, but as I told her, I draw the line at necrophilia."
"She kissed you?" Faith cries out in surprise. Suppose she didn't see that one coming, then.
"What, you jealous?" I tease giving her the look while drinking my beer again. I don't know, it just seems funny, the way she's reacting.
I guess my question hit a spot of some kind. The bored look creeps back onto her face and she looks away, before glancing at my direction again with irritation shining through. "Whatever. You're still not coming."
Figured she'd say that. Looks like she's immune to my charm, which leaves me with the last resort.
"Oh come on, Faithie, you can't shut me out. I can help you."
It's called begging with puppy-eyes. Dear God, if this doesn't work I'm gonna start screaming some ugly words here, in public, and it's possible I'll continue it tomorrow in some place with kids nearby. It won't be pretty. I warned you, remember that.
Fuck, you owe me this.
I was there at the cemetery. Where were you?
"I've no doubt," Faith replies staring into my eyes, obviously trying to make her point known, "but I work alone."
"Know what you mean, I did too," I say, "But trust me on this one, I can help. I have connections."
She sighs, growing fed up of the situation we're in. Well, I'm not really wanting this argument to go further and get violent, either, but what can you do. Usually I'd be eager to handle the issue with a few punch, but not this time, 'cause I know she'd kick me down like a ladybug, but there's no way in hell I'm giving up.
I won't, ever. I owe this to Sammy.
"So do I," she speaks, annoyed, "I'm a freakin' slayer, Dean."
You're a slayer, yeah, great. Shit load of good that's done to your life. Have you even heard the stories you told me, Faith? Do you even remember the time before everything got turned upside-down, huh?
How many times you think she's gonna throw that slayer thing at my face before she gets it? Before she realizes that I don't care, I just don't fucking care. Be a slayer, good for you, best of luck with that crap and so on. Sure, go ahead and be the one to kill that fucker, whatever, but God, let me be there. Don't take it away from me. Let me see it.
I fucking need to see it.
It's the only reason I let her force me up from the bed in the mornings. The only fucking reason.
Ok, let's think some more.
"This newly formed council you talked about isn't a fan of yours, you said it yourself." Fine, I'm being a jerk, using her own words against her, but man, she's really giving me no choice here, is she? "And they're in England, are they not?"
She looks down on her beer, on the table, the floor, anything but eyes. She's pursing her lips in the kind of pouty way that tells me she's getting closer and closer to the edge with every said word. "Yeah."
Maybe I should worry. She could very easily throw the table between us aside and grab my throat. It would take her a less than a second to snap my neck in two, I guess. And Faith, she's the kind of girl who would do it.
Still, I'm not worried. During these nine days she hasn't hurt me in anyway.
My male ego, yes, but me? Physically? No.
Even the spider she found on bathroom's floor was saved. She showered first and then made me promise I wouldn't step on it either, since she'd spent a whole 15 minutes making sure the thing didn't get smashed.
After I was done, she actually went back to check I kept my word.
I didn't, but I was smart enough to let the thing go down in the drain without leaving a mark on the floor and so she never noticed a thing. I told her the poor spider saw me and fled screaming.
Anyway.
"Yeah," I echo flatly, which is when her brown eyes suddenly arises again to meet mine.
She stares at me and I know, I just know this is why she's the slayer. The strength, the power, the will, it's all in her eyes. She's a fighter, even her body shows that much, and she's going to fight me on this, I know she is, till the bitter ending.
Too bad the feeling is mutual.
"I have other connections too-"
"Yeah, Angel and his gang, I know," I drawl in, making her annoyed look morph into something that's pretty close to fucking furious, I'd say, "Willow the lesbian witch and Xander, the one eyed ... whatever he is," I go on, ignoring the fact she looks about ready to smack me, "But they're not here, Faithie, I am."
Why can't she be a good girl and accept my offer?
"Stop calling me that, Winchester."
Never.
"Come on, I have to do this, I need to do this." There's no traces of jokes in my voice, not anymore, but still Faith's not convinced.
She doesn't say anything.
You know, I'm starting to think there's not a fucking thing I can say to convince her. When her mind is set on something, then that's that. It's either her way or the highway, always.
But I need to do this, ok? She knows it as well as I do that it won't bring me peace, seeing that bitch die, but it'll do something. I'll feel better after it's over, I've got to.
I can't go on like this, feeling like this.
"One way or another I'm going after that thing," I state angrily, putting the beer down before I smash it against the wall, "and all I'm saying is it'd better for the both of us if we stay together."
"You just wanna bed me, is all," she snaps staring me sternly and the funniest thing is, it looks like she's serious.
Not what I expected, I can tell that much.
"No, I wanna kill that fucker... " I pause, thinking it over and continue with a slight, acknowledging nod, "Ok, possibly that too, yeah, but mostly I wanna waste that son of a bitch."
Right now, I'm thinking I could get a little offended. The fuck is she saying, really? Like having sex could possibly be the first thing on my mind right now?
Hell no.
Okay, fine, so it's close to the top, but it's not the first!
Sam. Sam is. Don't you fucking get it already?
"Fine."
Wait, what? Did she just say something? "What?"
"I said fine," she spits the last word like it'd be poison, "You can come."
I don't know what to say. Thanks? I do feel like giving a miniwave, but maybe better to forget about that one.
"Okay, cool."
She's still throwing fire darts at me with her eyes. "But I'm the one in control here, ok? Me, the slayer, the girl who can snap your neck with her little finger."
Yeah, somehow I figured she'd bring it up again.
"Are we clear on this one?" Faith demands and I think it best to just go with the flow, "Yeah, we're clear on this one," I say nodding, and finish my beer trying to hide my pleased grin.
"Good."
"Okay."