Gimme Shelter Chapter 3
Fic: Gimme Shelter (3/5)
Title: Gimme Shelter
Author: Dulcedeusex
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off this.
Rating: M
Fandom's: Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series
Characters: Dean Winchester, Faith Lehane
Type: GEN, HET, pre-SPN S1
Pairing(s): Faith/Dean
Spoilers: SPN pre-season 1, BtVS post-Chosen, AtS post-Not Fade Away
Summary: Some months before SPN Season 1, Dean Winchester bumps into Faith in a town in Nevada. He saves her life after she's fought a demon but he does not know she is a Slayer.
Art: the lovely sucksucksmile without whom this fic would merely be a sepia version of itself.
Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to the amazingdollarformyname , without her this would never have been published and if it had it would have been so crap! I'm also dedicating it to all the SPN/BtVS/AtS crossover writers whose works inspired me to try this in the first place (that includes you Lisa).
I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away - Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones
Chapter 3
Dean slowed down the Impala as they drew nearer to the Amtrak Station in Reno, Nevada. Faith had grown quiet as they approached.
The quiet in the car hung over them like funereal pall, and it had done so for the good part of an hour. As soon as they had spied the markers directing them to the train station, Faith's steady stream of banter and dirty inappropriate jokes had died down to a distracted silence.
Dean pulled the parking brake and looked at her expectantly. He did not know what to say, the whole drive over, she had been wide-awake telling him crazy stories about the various places she had been to and the people she had met. All Dean had had to do was interject every once in a while with dirty jokes or suggestive comments.
Then on their last pit stop an hour ago, she'd washed her face, brushed her teeth, lined her eyes with dark kohl and applied a plum red lipstick to those full lips that sent Dean's hormones and imagination on a decidedly lustful rampage. In her war paint he had realised that he had somehow underestimated this chick. She may be young, and small but she was dangerous. Very dangerous in all the ways a beautiful woman with a knack for violence can be.
Faith looked straight out the windshield then turned brown eyes brimming with false bravado on Dean.
"So Batman, this is where I get off."
Dean cracked an equally false smile, "A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do right?"
Faith's eyes flashed with pain before she buried it, "You got that right."
"Any idea where you're going?"
"No, and that's kinda the point. Speaking of points where's my baby at?"
Dean reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and dug out the deadly weapon. He saw the way Faith's eyes lit up when he handed it to her, hilt first.
She held the knife reverently in her slender hands then wrapping a fist around its hilt she leaned down and sheathed it in her left boot. Dean inhaled sharply with appreciation.
She sat up and looked back into his eyes.
"Are you gonna hook up with your Dad, now?"
Dean had given her the Cliff Notes version of John Winchester, but she seemed to have been able to fill in the blanks very well. She had not said so in so many words but her eyes told him she understood. Which was crazy, how could she when Dad was obsessed with hunting demons? That sounded totally insane when Dean imagined himself speaking those words to her.
Dean shrugged, a tension settling in his shoulders, "Not just yet, thought I'd see a little more of this part of America first."
Faith nodded in understanding then looked back at the station; she did not want to go, not yet. She could sense Dean's reluctance for her to leave too and it filled all those dark and empty places inside her with something liquid and warm.
What did she have waiting for her out there? Nothing but more emptiness and darkness and monsters that never stopped coming. She felt her breath rattle in her chest with shaky fear. Could she go back out there like she was right now?Weary, weak and so wretchedly lonely she wanted to fall to her knees and scream so loud it would rip the fucking sky a new one?
Would the Cleveland Hellmouth spontaneously combust if she wasn't there to help the dozens of Slayerettes currently manning it? After all, they were all just cannon-fodder. Created, no, destined, to feed the yawning maw of Hell that was always open and never satisfied. Maybe that was the whole light vs dark bit about it all? Slayers were fed to Hell and its minions and in exchange worse evil was spawned. Evil nurtured by the very blood of the people designed to stop it.
Faith scowled at herself, her mind was going on a walkabout, and she did not do mental wanderings. Yet another reason to hate comas.
So what was the bottom line here? Bottom line was, right now? She did not feel like playing the role destiny had assigned her. Wasn't that the whole point of Willow working her mojo in Sunnydale?
So that Faith and Buffy didn't have to? Besides she was more of a rule breaker than follower right?
That girl was still in there somewhere wasn't she?
"You know that hole in your side is not exactly tourist friendly, don't you think you should give yourself some more time to heal?" Dean asked hopefully.
He really did not want her to go. She had woken something inside him, something he had never known existed for anyone other than his family; loyalty, affection, concern, a sense of responsibility that had nothing to do with protecting civilians from the supernatural things in life. Then there was the secondary but equally powerful need to explore that seductive promise of great sex her lips, eyes, body and very voice taunted him with. It was a promise that had been silently communicated to him since they had kissed in her hospital room. Dean also wanted to know more about her knife-habit and fast-healing rate. She had not seemed surprised to hear the Doc at the hospital get carried away about it; in fact she had seemed wary and ready to do physical harm. But she wasn't a hunter, Dean had checked with Dad's friend Bobby via email.
Yeah there was something about her that made him wonder. And he wanted to know what it was all about. Damn. She had tied him up in all kinds of knots. How had she done that when she had spent the majority of their four day acquaintance comatose?
Faith's hand drifted up to her healing ribs, the bones had already knitted together, and she could feel the itch of a healed break that she could not scratch. A normal girl wouldn't have healed broken bones in four days. It would take something more like four weeks.
And as far as Dean Winchester knew, she was a normal girl… with a penchant for knives and violence. Like Angelina Jolie. She laughed to herself, yeah, she was Angelina Jolie. And he was Brad Pitt. Hot and pretty fucking talented. Without thinking about it any further she decided to take the leap.
"You know what Pretty Boy?"
Dean looked at her expectantly, unable to formulate words. Any second now she was gonna put his loneliness back on the gas burner. And it was going to scorch his insides worse than before, because now, he knew she was there, and her presence seemed to heal him on the inside somehow. Whoa, easy there Winchester, you still got a pair of 'nads down there?
"I should give my body some more time to heal. I mean let's face it, this is a great body and it would be a shame to short-change it out of some much needed RnR."
Dean held his breath, viciously telling his suddenly racing heart not to get too excited.
"So there's this nice, classy motel I checked out when I first passed through Reno. Besides, you've been driving all night-"
Dean instantly put the car into gear and started to drive away from the station, "I am pretty tired. I don't get to look this good from not sleeping."
The station was now behind them and Faith's face lit up as she took her cue from him and leaned forward to turn up the 'Black Sabbath' that had been playing earlier.
"Oh I know, you're starting to look a little used up there. Real ragged around the edges, kiddo."
Dean was so relieved that she had changed her mind and was still a little anxious that she could still change it again; he did not rise to the bait. Choosing instead to look at her with dancing eyes, he mock scowled at her. She let out a brief dry chuckle and indicated with her right hand that he should keep going straight.
-xx-
Faith had not lied; the self-catering motel she took him to was classy. Well as classy as a motel could be. Modeled like an apartment complex, "The Oasis" was sandy white and well maintained. The structure encircled a pool and in the back there was a relatively secure parking lot. After Dean went to pay for a room, he came back to meet Faith at the Impala.
She was leaning against it and smoking a cigarette! In her dark jeans, black faded Elvis t-shirt, black boots and black leather jacket, she looked hot and mysterious. But she was leaning on his baby with a cancer stick! This chick had a double death wish.
Spotting Dean, Faith grinned at him and took one last long drag of her cigarette before tossing it over her shoulder. Nearly giving Dean an aneurysim as he worried it was going to land on his car. It didn't.
Faith chuckled and took a limping step toward him. Dean quickly closed the gap between them not wanting her to strain herself too much and also surreptitiously studying his baby for any damage.
"Well?"
"Gotta pay for a week at a time, so you're covered for two. Here let me help you." Dean said as he bent his knees and scooped her up in his arms.
Faith bit back a squeal of surprise. What the fuck? She was a Slayer, she did not do squealing. Dean's green eyes twinkled with amusement at her discomfort and she felt her knees go a little weak. Slayer or not this guy made it easy to forget she could crush him like a bug. Or that she was an escaped convict that had killed people and sold her soul to the Devil not too long ago.
Stopping at their room, number 6, Dean unlocked the door, and pushed it back with a wriggling Faith who was trying to get down.
"Unh huh, huh! You need to be resting not tiring yourself out with smokes and walking more than you should." Dean admonished gently as he carried her into the room.
"I can take care of myself, Deano."
"Not saying you can't Faithie but it's getting late and… I think I should at least stay the night."
Something flickered hopefully inside her chest, so naturally Faith shrugged with feigned indifference, busying herself with admiring the room.
It had a butter yellow kitchenette, a little living space with an armchair, coffee table and tv set. The open door to the left lead to a blue and white tiled bathroom complete with a bathtub, a toilet and a large sink, and the double bed near the back of the room looked incredibly inviting.
Finally meeting Dean's eyes again she cocked her head a little, he was looking at her with barely restrained anticipation and she shrugged again.
"Dude if you're into crippled chicks you should just say so instead of pretending to be some kinda nice guy, hero type. I knew there had to be something wrong with you."
In Faith language she was saying she agreed that he should stay the night. Dean pretended to drop her and this time Faith did squeal. Clinging to him instinctively until he hefted her back up and grinned.
"I've got you Faith."
Something light and hopeful jumped in her chest, "I'm much more reliable, well actually I'm not. Okay, I'm much more touchable than the other kind of faith."
Dean's eyes twinkled with amusement, "And definitely more trouble."
Faith raised her eyebrows at that then running her hand down the lapels of his jacket she lowered her voice to a soft purr, "Definitely. Now…I haven't yet learned how to eat myself so I think you should put me down and go get us something to eat."
Dean shook his head, where the Hell did they make chicks like her? He shrugged with her still firmly ensconced in his arms and grinned.
"Eat yourself huh? That mean, what I think it means?"
Faith rolled her eyes at the hopeful tone in his voice but could not help the smile on her face as Dean whirled them around then set her down on one of the two wooden stools in the kitchenette.
"Go get dinner and I'll tell you all about it you perv."
Dean waggled his eyebrows boyishly and with a mock salute, strode towards the door.
"Hold that thought, I'll be back sooner than you can say, this one time at Girl Scouts."
Faith chuckled drily as the setting rays of the sun limned him in glowing orange yellow before he shut the door. She wasn't big on the poetry but this guy was beginning to feel like he was heaven sent, just for her.
-xx-
Dean had come back with an armload of groceries and takeout from an actual restaurant. It was a steakhouse grill but it was still real food. Faith had treated him to his first look at the Slayer appetite as she demolished her meal. He had jokingly implored her not to go throw it up in the bathroom later cause it was damn good food and she'd given him the finger. Only when she started in on his own food, did Dean manage to get over his shock and eat faster.
Dean had run her a bath and ordered her to take it while he cleaned up. When she was done, he had gone in to take a shower, giving her ample time to change into sleepwear. His look of surprise when he'd come out of the bathroom to find her in boy-shorts and one of his clean plaid shirts had made her laugh. Playfully calling him a prude since he had come out in drawstring pants and an overwashed t-shirt.
He had helped Faith into the giant bed before taking a pillow and settling into the solitary armchair in the room. Remembering that she was supposed to have taken a horse tranquiliser of a pain killer, and that she was supposed to be a normal girl, Faith had pretended to fall asleep. Her left hand surreptitiously wrapped around "Betsy" the trusty knife Mayor Wilkins had given her, hidden under the pillow. She lay there and watched Dean's profile which showed him fall asleep before her in the undoubtedly uncomfortable armchair.
Faith wondered about the man that obviously had his fair share of secrets, pain and loneliness. He had done so much for her, more than anyone had ever done for her in the past and he did not even know her. She could not help but be a little awed and intimidated by his selflessness. It had been wishful thinking earlier but maybe he really had been heaven sent. Faith smiled to herself at the thought, her lids drifting down sleepily. And if not she had "Betsy" here to deal with anything the guys in the basement might have planned.
Dean woke up from the uncomfortable chair with start, his right hand instantly reaching under the cushion for his favorite pistol. Looking around the moonlit room with confusion he wondered what had woken him then he remembered, Faith! Craning his neck backwards he watched her struggle against an unseen enemy in her sleep. Standing up groggily he padded towards the bed.
Under the direct light from the full moon outside, Dean squinted and drew closer.
What was that on her neck?
He leaned over the bed to study the silvery bite-mark that formed a jagged complete circle.
Those were not human teeth or his name wasn't Dean Winchester. This chick had been bitten by a vampire! Now that was crazy, vampires weren't real. He leaned back and sat on the bed, staring at her dazedly. She couldn't be a hunter could she? And if she wasn't a hunter and she wasn't a demon then who the Hell was she?
Dean had studied the soles of her steel-toed boots, they matched the size and pattern of the prints he'd found by the gravel pit. The blood sample he'd taken had been spoiled before he could look at it but now he wondered again if it was possible that she could have gotten hurt fighting that child-eating demon back in Bello?
"Dawn… she's coming Buffy, gotta get ready for her. Miles to go before you sleep." Faith mumbled.
Dean shook his head with a sheepish expression on his face, of course she wasn't a hunter.
What kind of hunter knew people called Buffy and Dawn? Maybe she'd been attacked by a vampire-like creature and probably didn't know what it was when she pulled her knife on it and stabbed it. Or a hunter had rescued her. Or both. As for the boot prints out by the gravel pit, could have been anybody.
His research on the internet had also shown him that steel-toed Doc Martens were still very popular.
"Castiel, its Uriel! No! Anna please…You've gotta help him. Get down! Everybody get down!" Faith screamed then wrenched awake.
Dean reflexively put his hands on her shoulders, she tensed, muscles ready to attack before she recognised him and relaxed while Dean made soothing sounds.
"It's okay, it was just a bad dream."
Faith was breathing heavily, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. Scared and vulnerable, she leaned into Dean's embrace and swallowed convulsively.
Yeah it was just a bad dream, definitely not some kind of weird Slayer dream. She didn't know an insurance man called Cas, or a big black bald Hitman called Uriel that exuded power that was definitely more than human. And as common as the name was, she did not know any Anna's either. Faith's chest heaved from the remembered adrenaline of the dream.
Then there was the explosion, she hadn't really gotten a bunch of girls killed in a mineshaft of a town that no longer existed. Right? Her breath seized in her chest. Wrong. That had actually happened.
Her hand crept up to curl around Dean's right arm and she pressed her face into his shoulder, still shaking. He leaned forward and held her closer, stroking her thick lustrous hair down her back in a comforting caress. Once again he wondered about this enigmatic girl/woman, his instincts told him she had enough tears to fill an ocean if she was so inclined. He also wondered about the bite on her neck, he could see it even better now and it was pretty fucking deep. Whatever had bit her had not meant for her to live. Dean smiled to himself a little, he hadn't known her long but he already knew she was just contrary enough to not have cared about that.
They stayed in their awkward half embrace for so long, Dean's leg started to fall asleep. Faith pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, searching the hazel green depths for something. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because she pulled the covers back and looked at him with a silent invitation. Dean's heart jumped then slammed in his ribs and he felt his throat go dry, she wanted him to get in bed with her so he could just what?
Hold her? Whoa, now this was asking a lot.
"Contrary to your beliefs, I'm really not into crippled chicks." Dean quipped lamely.
Faith smirked, "Who said anything about you getting in? Just get in the bed you loser."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Okay but if I wake up with some morning wood it's nothing personal." Dean joked, still hesitating to get under the covers with her.
That predatory grin of hers flashed, "I'll take it personal if you don't, now get in here Winchester. You paid for the digs, and the bed, the least you can do is get some decent shuteye."
Guys had gotten more out of Faith for less reasons and the fact that he hadn't asked or demanded it meant a lot. The words were unspoken but Dean heard them just as clearly as if she had said them out loud.
Something inside him loosed at her invitation, it took the pressure off and yet at the same time it made him feel good. It was a legitimate out from scary thoughts of domesticity he had never had, and adequate cover for him to shove that loneliness that was squatting in his soul, out for a night. He crawled under the covers, pointedly ignoring her dancing brown eyes.
He was still a man after all and there was something intoxicating about a young, supple bodied hot chick needing him. Especially when the girl in question, was obviously not used to needing anyone, and just too damned independent/stubborn for her own good. Lying on his back, Dean glanced over at Faith as she snuggled into her pillow then drew closer to him. With a knowing grin she winked.
"Turn onto your side and drape your arm on my hip Winchester."
He rolled over onto his side and did as he was told, pulling her closer, they faced each other for a split-second, accelerated breaths mingling briefly before she rolled over so her backside brushed against his groin. She felt all womanly and soft, and she seemed to fit against him just right. He wondered if everything else would fit so snugly and almost instantaneously his blood rushed down to his groin. He grinned against her hair when she drew in a breath.
"Serves you right Sweetheart."
"Shut up Dean." Faith said without rancor.
Dean extended his left arm so that it pillowed her head and drew her closer, luxuriating in the clean shampoo smell of her silky thick hair.
"Yes ma'am." Dean said under his breath and he felt her cheek slide against his left arm in a small smile.
"Sweet dreams Deano."
"Oh that I'm not worried about." Dean said with lewd chuckle as his erection grew fuller against her butt.
Faith pushed her free arm up and rooted underneath her vacated and now useless pillow. She pulled out a scary looking blade that made Dean jerk backwards in shock.
"Don't worry, if you get too carried away in your sleep, Betsy here'll keep you in line."
"Jesus Christ woman! Where did you get that?"
"She was in my stuff; I keep Betsy very well hidden. Don't get your period or anything; I would have been shocked if you had found her. So it's not a diss to your criminal skills."
Dean remained tense for a few minutes, that was a fucking huge and deadly knife.
How could he have missed it? My God, what would Dad say to that? Well Dad wasn't here, and Dean was a grown man.
He slammed the door on all thoughts John related and felt himself instantly relax, then inch closer to her again cautiously.
Dean muttered several expletives under his breath as Faith tucked "Betsy" under her pillow again, giving the cushion an affectionate pat. Faith laughed out-loud.
Seriously, what kind of a woman named her knife?
Soon the tension left his body; soothed away by the welcome and relaxed, gentle pressure of Faith's body against his. She reached back and brought his arm around her waist, tucking his hand in hers she held it close to her chest and sighed. Despite his attempts not to, Dean felt himself savor the contact and the way it somehow soothed something deep inside him.
Thinking about the knife-naming, Dean realised that was exactly what he did with his favorite weapons. She was definitely his kind of a woman, and he'd never met one like her before.
As for intimate human contact just for the sake of comfort? Wasn't so bad or so scary after all. It was kinda nice, no, it was very fucking nice.
And Dean had never had that before either. He listened to Faith's even breathing and observed that she had probably had it once, maybe twice before. She slept with the ease of someone who had. So then maybe in that regard he was more fucked up than she was and she could teach him a thing or two. He thought back to "Betsy" and decided she could probably teach him a couple hundred things. And he liked that. She was also holding onto his hand very tightly, Dean liked that too.
For the first time since Sam had run off to college, Dean fully relaxed as sleep claimed him.
An aching void he had noticed was there but never dared plumb its full depths, was rapidly filling up with doe eyes that could darken from whiskey brown to black coffee. For all their power to threaten and scare, they did not alarm him. Dean wondered how the mere presence of this slight woman, with her steamer trunk of issues was making him not feel so alone anymore.
Then he stopped wondering altogether as he fell into a deep and tranquil sleep.