Living on a Prayer, BtVS/SPN, part 8/?
Living on a Prayer
nwhepcat
Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel, Faith Lehane
Follow up to
Like the White-Winged Dove and Waiting for the end of the World.
Faith has a slayer dream which sends her on a reluctant journey to her old territory, on a quest to save a new ally.
Previous parts are here.
Faith lets her hand fall to the weapons bag, feeling the energy coil in her muscles, ready for a fight. Maybe itching for one. All she can tell is whoever (whatever) is standing there is shaped like a man, face shadowed by his hat.
"Can I help you?" he asks. His voice has the familiar tang of Southie, and Faith suddenly realizes how much she's missed that distinctive speech.
She wonders if a demon keeps the accent of the host it possesses. Or if there's a local demon chapter wherever you go. She hadn't really thought about killing things with the accent she grew up hearing.
He reads her wariness. "I'm Father Milligan. I'm afraid we don't have a youth shelter, but I can make a few calls and find one with an available bed."
"That's all right, Father." To her surprise, the Southie tones have returned to her own speech without any conscious thought. "That's not why I'm here."
"It must be urgent if you've been waiting out in the cold at this hour." He crosses the salt line as if he doesn't even notice it. "Would you like to come inside?"
"Sure." She hoists the bag onto her shoulder, the muffled clank this makes prompting a startled look from the priest. He's younger than she expected. She meets his scrutiny with wide-eyed innocence.
After a second's pause, he turns and heads up the steps, and she follows.
As he's fumbling the key into the church door, she asks, "Are you related to Steve Milligan?" He pauses halfway through turning the key. Way to remind the father of his asshole klepto family member, she chides herself.
The lock clicks and he pushes the door open, flipping on the foyer lights. "I'm Steve Milligan," he says, and as her eyes adjust to the brightness her jaw drops as she sees it's true.
His expression changes too as she steps into the light. "Faith Lehane?"
"Heya, Steve. Fancy meetin' you here."
He laughs, and the sound gives her this strange, almost dizzying sense of being yanked a dozen years back in the past.
"You always did that," he says.
"Did what?"
"Cover your feelings, especially the ones you don't expect. You can be surprised; I won't be offended."
The idea that Steve was actually noticing something like that about her all those years ago is almost as startling as his transformation. "Well, the last time I saw you, you had hair down to your --" Funny that she chokes on the word ass, when she's dropped the F-bomb in front of an angel of the Lord. Especially since she's actually seen Steve Milligan's ass. Father Milligan's ass. Maybe that's why such a short word is sticking sideways in her throat.
"You look half frozen. Why don't I put on some coffee? There's a coffeemaker in my office."
"You just came in. You were probably wantin' to get some sleep."
He gestures with a small black case he's pulled from his pocket. "I had a late hospital call. I won't be getting back to sleep."
"Hope nobody died."
"It's a little too close to call right now. You heard about the tornado?" He ushers her into his office, setting the case on the desk.
"Yeah, just the bare facts. Were many people hurt?"
"Two were killed; one was a parishoner. Ten more were hurt, and four of those were ours, too." He takes the carafe from the coffeemaker and says, "Have a seat, Faith. I'll be right back."
Instead she wanders back out into the sanctuary, finds her golden-haired angel. His full glory is still obscured by the darkness outside the church. Tell me what to do. How can I help when I don't know how? All she knows is she's willing to match his fierceness.
nwhepcat
Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel, Faith Lehane
Follow up to
Like the White-Winged Dove and Waiting for the end of the World.
Faith has a slayer dream which sends her on a reluctant journey to her old territory, on a quest to save a new ally.
Previous parts are here.
Faith lets her hand fall to the weapons bag, feeling the energy coil in her muscles, ready for a fight. Maybe itching for one. All she can tell is whoever (whatever) is standing there is shaped like a man, face shadowed by his hat.
"Can I help you?" he asks. His voice has the familiar tang of Southie, and Faith suddenly realizes how much she's missed that distinctive speech.
She wonders if a demon keeps the accent of the host it possesses. Or if there's a local demon chapter wherever you go. She hadn't really thought about killing things with the accent she grew up hearing.
He reads her wariness. "I'm Father Milligan. I'm afraid we don't have a youth shelter, but I can make a few calls and find one with an available bed."
"That's all right, Father." To her surprise, the Southie tones have returned to her own speech without any conscious thought. "That's not why I'm here."
"It must be urgent if you've been waiting out in the cold at this hour." He crosses the salt line as if he doesn't even notice it. "Would you like to come inside?"
"Sure." She hoists the bag onto her shoulder, the muffled clank this makes prompting a startled look from the priest. He's younger than she expected. She meets his scrutiny with wide-eyed innocence.
After a second's pause, he turns and heads up the steps, and she follows.
As he's fumbling the key into the church door, she asks, "Are you related to Steve Milligan?" He pauses halfway through turning the key. Way to remind the father of his asshole klepto family member, she chides herself.
The lock clicks and he pushes the door open, flipping on the foyer lights. "I'm Steve Milligan," he says, and as her eyes adjust to the brightness her jaw drops as she sees it's true.
His expression changes too as she steps into the light. "Faith Lehane?"
"Heya, Steve. Fancy meetin' you here."
He laughs, and the sound gives her this strange, almost dizzying sense of being yanked a dozen years back in the past.
"You always did that," he says.
"Did what?"
"Cover your feelings, especially the ones you don't expect. You can be surprised; I won't be offended."
The idea that Steve was actually noticing something like that about her all those years ago is almost as startling as his transformation. "Well, the last time I saw you, you had hair down to your --" Funny that she chokes on the word ass, when she's dropped the F-bomb in front of an angel of the Lord. Especially since she's actually seen Steve Milligan's ass. Father Milligan's ass. Maybe that's why such a short word is sticking sideways in her throat.
"You look half frozen. Why don't I put on some coffee? There's a coffeemaker in my office."
"You just came in. You were probably wantin' to get some sleep."
He gestures with a small black case he's pulled from his pocket. "I had a late hospital call. I won't be getting back to sleep."
"Hope nobody died."
"It's a little too close to call right now. You heard about the tornado?" He ushers her into his office, setting the case on the desk.
"Yeah, just the bare facts. Were many people hurt?"
"Two were killed; one was a parishoner. Ten more were hurt, and four of those were ours, too." He takes the carafe from the coffeemaker and says, "Have a seat, Faith. I'll be right back."
Instead she wanders back out into the sanctuary, finds her golden-haired angel. His full glory is still obscured by the darkness outside the church. Tell me what to do. How can I help when I don't know how? All she knows is she's willing to match his fierceness.