SS2: What a wicked game you play to make me feel this way
Title:Soulmate Surviving
Author:Kiwikatipo
Rating:F18 NC-17
Genre: Romance
Spoilers: Buffy comics, Season 1 and 2
Warnings: Coarse Language
Disclaimer: I did not invent Sam and Faith, Kripke and Whedon did, all hail. Annabel and company were created by Stephen Carpenter and are borrowed from the movie Soul Survivors.
Boston, January, 2006,
For a girl who just broke up with her boyfriend she seemed completely emotionally unscathed.
It took the time spent to drain a highball for Sam to suddenly worry that Annabel who now went by the moniker ‘Faith’ might be on to them.
One minute she’d been sleazing all over Dean and the next moment she leaned against him, her body lean and supple. Her breasts contained against the laws of physics in a low cut reddish silky top, were soft and squishing pleasantly against his sweater clad arm.
He towered over her, she wasn’t a perfect fit like Jess and she smelled of cigarettes - yuck.
Blonde, kind, sweet, fun-loving Jessica couldn’t be replaced and Sam didn’t want to replace her.
“Sam-the-man,” Faith’s eyes were hooded, brown and staring up at him invitingly. “Why don’t you and Deano both come back to my place?”
“Little early for coffee isn’t it?” Sam shifted his body so Faith no longer touched him. It made sense if she turned out to be a demon because physically the woman disturbed the hell out of him.
He kept imagining taking Faith hard and fast in the bar’s restroom which could make her a succubus or something else unnatural that dropped their G’s and made grieving guys horny.
“Who said anything about coffee?” Faith’s tone promised decadent delights and held a slightly lowered inflection which implied he lacked gray matter.
Therefore Sam wasn’t fooled by her sensuous implication; she didn’t seem dumb enough or wasted enough to expect that he and Dean (being, hello, brothers) would want to screw the same woman at the same time.
Which meant Faith wanted Sam and Dean to leave the bar with her so she could murder them. Maybe as part of her monster modus operandi she’d need to copulate with them first before she tried to kill them?
God-damnit, now he was picturing himself screwing her again. He glowered at her.
“Sorry, sweetness but he’ll have to take a rain check. Sammy here has an interview at Harvard tomorrow like we said, needs to be all early bird catches a worm, can you handle just me?” Dean could always be counted on to come across as a randy hound dog convincingly - method acting on his part. Sam noted Dean even had his arm draped around Faith’s bare shoulders as he spoke, tracing invisible circles with his thumb on her skin. Her shoulders were smooth, flawless.
Sam hoped Dean washed his hands afterwards, because the chick was clearly an unclean entity. Sam identified as being a liberal who loved women, yet the words ‘jezebel’ and ‘harlot’ kept coming to the fore in his mind when he conversed with Faith, which either must make him some archaic dick or Faith evil. Jess was sexy, sure, but Jess never wore pants so tight they might as well be spray painted on. ‘Slut’ - at least that word kept a timeless quality of abuse throughout the centuries.
“His loss,” she frowned at Sam, with a scrunched forehead for a second before shrugging to show she didn’t give a shit.
“Yeah, it is,” Dean sighed dramatically then cheered up in an instant, “but all my gain. Let’s blow this joint, huh?”
Standing still as he finished his beer Sam watched Faith led Dean out of the bar area, into the hat and coat check-in area, up the flight of stairs that led from the basement club to the street and out of view.
One, two, three, Sam slowly counted to sixty, before beginning to trail his brother and their potentially demonic prey.
Paying their tab, leaving the bar, collecting his coat, going up the stairs, walking slowly behind Faith and Dean on the sidewalk, staying out of sight - Sam carried out all of these tasks faithfully. He was a giant! Dean should really be doing this stalker gig, not Sam.
The icy sidewalk made the ground slippery under foot. Sam’s boots were fitted with a good tread on the soles, he didn’t know how else to account for Faith being able to remain upright with the height of her stiletto boot heels without her being not of this world. Or she was holding onto Dean for dear life if human.
A wino asked Sam for spare change and held him up for a few minutes, when the old man decided to get nasty over Sam’s kindly refusal to enable his alcohol dependency further and then nosy passer-bys decided to get involved. Where was big city indifference when you needed it?
A quick scramble up a series of fire escape ladders thirty minutes later saw Sam perching on Faith’s fire escape landing outside her window. The loft apartment Faith rented wasn’t as big a dump inside as it looked from the outside.
Her apartment’s view wasn’t anything to write home about - overlooking a back alley as it did, but the fact it was hidden from public view was useful for Sam and Dean’s exorcism intentions. The Winchesters had scouted ahead earlier yesterday while Faith visited her local library. Weird, he never would have picked Faith to be a big reader, but according to her gossipy building concierge, Faith hung out at her local library a lot.
Did demons take on the persona of the person they possessed? There was so much about the supernatural world that Sam should know about but didn’t because of his resentment towards his father preventing an acquisition of knowledge ... Crap, it was frigging freezing out here. Determined footsteps coming towards the window brought Sam back from his bitter trip down memory lane.
The window beside him slid up with an abrupt squawk of abused wooden grooves.
“Sam-baby, do you wanna come inside and join yah brother gettin' the snot kicked out of him in the warmth or do you get off on freezin' ya balls outside while you perve?” Faith wanted to know as she jutted her head outside. Her hair was slightly mussed as if she possibly had been in a fight or making out. “He’d ask you inside himself, but he’s all tied up.”
Instantly Sam saw visions of a trussed and gagged Dean being tortured by a demon Faith, or a silken rope restrained, naked Dean being pleasured a human, naked Faith. Honest to God, Sam didn’t know which image-flash was more stomach turning.
“It’s cool, dude, she isn’t a demon.” Dean’s voice could be heard calling from inside. “She might be psycho, but she isn’t a demon.”
“Fuck you, pal.” Faith uttered the remark lightly to Dean but Sam recognized the remark hurt her for some reason.
Putting his large feet first, Sam jimmied himself through the window.
A large wet patch on Dean’s jeans that he was dabbing at with a dish cloth in the kitchen area explained the tied up remark and a bruised cheek the beaten up comment.
“She threw holy water on me, when I was trying to see if she had a reaction to silver.” Dean explained to Sam casually.
“Right,” Sam nodded and waited for further explanation.
Holding her hair back so it didn’t catch alight, Faith lit a cigarette on the back stove.
“She’s not a ghost either, Faith here’s a fellow hunter.” Dean smirked at his own short sightedness. “The clues were in front of us. The way she wears a silver cross all the time.”
“I knew there was more than one reason you were checkin' out my tits. Congratulations,” Faith blew her cigarette smoke upwards impatiently. “You’ve worked out you were retarded, now take a hike.”
A pout of panic marred Dean’s charm filled explanation for a second. “Hey, where’s the love? I apologized for pulling a knife.”
“Then why does she look like Annabel Lehane from Salem?” Sam gave a snort of irritation. His fingers itched to whip the Book of Common Prayer out of his pocket and start reading the part dealing with exorcism.
“I’m Annie’s cousin,” Faith stared at Sam with her body rigid for prepared confrontation.
“That’s convenient, long lost I suppose?” Sam stared at her back, the hell if he was going to give up the idea Faith was a demon without a struggle.
“Yeah, she has the docs and everything, Sam.” Dean enthused, indicating a pile of official looking letters lying on Faith’s kitchen bench, “completely legit.”
“What happened to your brain, Dean? Why am I asking that? She could have forged these documents - or enchanted them.” Sam went to pick the papers up. He noticed they were headed up from a firm he felt he should recognize the name of but didn’t. Immediately Faith stood in front of him.
She didn’t need to get right in his face to radiate intimidation. “Hey, leave my 'enchanted' shit alone and leave with big bro, I’m not a demon, I’m not a ghost, I’m not a fuckin’ vamp, so piss off.”
“Vampires are probably extinct.” Dean pronounced with authority.
“That explains ….” An expression of illumination crossed her face.
Sam dropped the papers back on her kitchen bench. Why did Faith have legal documents in her kitchen and why was Dean totally convinced she was human?
A few quick strides took Faith over to her front door which proceeded to be swung forcefully open by her.
To avoid the bruises that would be coming their way if they lingered, Dean and Sam departed with dignity.
“I thought I was in there, once we cleared up our little mutual misunderstanding.” Dean elaborated further to Sam as the two brothers descended the flight of stairs leading to the building's entrance. “But she said she didn’t like being played. Seeing she was playing us too, it kinda proves the illogicalness of the female mind. She was more into you than me, anyways, dude, which shows she’s kinda nuts to begin with.”
“No, she wasn’t.” Sam quickened his pace and tried to avoid analyzing if that was why Faith repelled him so much.
Jessica and Faith were complete opposites in everyway. So if someone like Faith got all wet for him, what did that make Sam Winchester nowadays?