Living on a Prayer, BtVS/SPN, part 34/?
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. Also, Vessel becomes relevant.
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.
A hot shower alerts Faith to other bits of skin she lost when she went sprawling on the pavement. Fierce stings in her knee, elbow, palms and chin make her suck in air and breathe out curses. A few other spots are bruised though not skinned.
As she limps out of the bathroom in t-shirt and underwear to grab the first aid kit, she finds Castiel sitting at the table, elbows on his knees, head bowed over the book he's holding, unopened, in both hands. He's dressed as he has been up until today, his stockbroker's uniform unstained and untorn, and she's not sure whether he dug his clothes from the garbage bag where she'd put them, or angeled up a completely fresh set.
"You must save a fortune on dry cleaning."
Castiel looks up, and he looks so troubled Faith's heart twists. Rising, he sets the book down and reaches for the first aid kit she's holding. "Let me take care of that for you." He pushes out his chair for her and pulls the other one up close.
"So what is it you're so avidly not reading?" She pulls the maroon-covered book closer and sees it's a Bible. "Oh. Guess you have that memorized."
"I find the translation gets in the way for me."
"Translation?" She flips open the Bible and sees the same old-fashioned language she's seen before. "But this -- oh. Yeah, I guess it is. The original's in Latin or something, right?" Reaching into the first aid kit, she hands Castiel a bottle of Bactine. "Spray this on first, let it dry, then bandage."
He dabs a piece of gauze on her oozing knee, then sprays the Bactine. "Actually, what I meant was translation into human language."
Without meaning to, Faith finds herself leaning forward, breathing in the smell of the antiseptic. Castiel looks up at the sound of her inward breath and she's suddenly aware of how close they are.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks.
"Nah. I like the smell, that's all. It reminds me of my ma. She wasn't that great at a lot of things, but she gave good 'ouchie.'"
He lays a square of gauze on the abrasion and tells her to hold it there, then tapes the bandage on her knee.
The awareness of his hands on her leg sends lust fizzing through her blood, and she blurts, "So you speak angel."
He twitches a smile and says, "Yes, I do." Moving his chair closer, he tells her to bend her arm so he can reach her elbow.
She can barely breathe with him this close. "So say something for me. Recite a Bible verse or something."
This smile is a little less fleeting. "The last time I tried that, it made Dean's ears bleed."
"You talked to Dean?"
"I tried. It was before I realized my true voice was too overwhelming for him." Tilting his head, he studies her. "You look ... unhappy. Are you jealous?"
"Damn straight I'm jealous."
"I told you. Human ears can't withstand our true voices."
Faith raises her chin. "I'm a slayer. I bet I could."
Castiel scowls. "Take care that you don't demand so much."
"Did Mark demand too much? You said he was a relentless seeker."
He doesn't answer, but the set of his jaw tells her what she wants to know. He's a little less gentle with the dabbing and spraying this time.
"Just because someone asks for too much doesn't mean God has to dump it on 'em."
"He would be satisfied with nothing less. The same is true of the medium who insisted on seeing my true form."
"The one you blinded?"
"If the sun can be said to blind those who are foolish enough to stare into it, then I suppose you could say I blinded her." He tapes a gauze pad over the elbow scrape.
"I irritate the shit out of you, don't I?"
"I couldn't accommodate you if I wished. Not in this body. I would rupture the vocal cords if I tried."
She's got him thinking about it. She squelches her smile of triumph. "You didn't answer the question."
"You don't need an answer." He blots gently at her chin, then sprays Bactine on another pad and dabs at the scrape there. "It's not just you. I have other things on my mind as well."
"Don't bother with a bandage there," she tells him. "I don't want that on my face." His fingers curled below her chin are just about all she can take. "So what's bothering you?"
"While you were showering, I spoke with Trudy. Her husband disappeared twenty years ago, with no word."
"Aw, Jesus," she whispers, and forgets to add her usual apology.
"It was three years before he turned up again. Three years that she held her breath with every phone call."
Faith meets his gaze, and the intensity of it is almost physical, electrical. "You're going to do it, aren't you?" She breathes in the childhood scent of Bactine, tries to find its comfort. "You're going to call Mark's wife."
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. Also, Vessel becomes relevant.
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.
A hot shower alerts Faith to other bits of skin she lost when she went sprawling on the pavement. Fierce stings in her knee, elbow, palms and chin make her suck in air and breathe out curses. A few other spots are bruised though not skinned.
As she limps out of the bathroom in t-shirt and underwear to grab the first aid kit, she finds Castiel sitting at the table, elbows on his knees, head bowed over the book he's holding, unopened, in both hands. He's dressed as he has been up until today, his stockbroker's uniform unstained and untorn, and she's not sure whether he dug his clothes from the garbage bag where she'd put them, or angeled up a completely fresh set.
"You must save a fortune on dry cleaning."
Castiel looks up, and he looks so troubled Faith's heart twists. Rising, he sets the book down and reaches for the first aid kit she's holding. "Let me take care of that for you." He pushes out his chair for her and pulls the other one up close.
"So what is it you're so avidly not reading?" She pulls the maroon-covered book closer and sees it's a Bible. "Oh. Guess you have that memorized."
"I find the translation gets in the way for me."
"Translation?" She flips open the Bible and sees the same old-fashioned language she's seen before. "But this -- oh. Yeah, I guess it is. The original's in Latin or something, right?" Reaching into the first aid kit, she hands Castiel a bottle of Bactine. "Spray this on first, let it dry, then bandage."
He dabs a piece of gauze on her oozing knee, then sprays the Bactine. "Actually, what I meant was translation into human language."
Without meaning to, Faith finds herself leaning forward, breathing in the smell of the antiseptic. Castiel looks up at the sound of her inward breath and she's suddenly aware of how close they are.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks.
"Nah. I like the smell, that's all. It reminds me of my ma. She wasn't that great at a lot of things, but she gave good 'ouchie.'"
He lays a square of gauze on the abrasion and tells her to hold it there, then tapes the bandage on her knee.
The awareness of his hands on her leg sends lust fizzing through her blood, and she blurts, "So you speak angel."
He twitches a smile and says, "Yes, I do." Moving his chair closer, he tells her to bend her arm so he can reach her elbow.
She can barely breathe with him this close. "So say something for me. Recite a Bible verse or something."
This smile is a little less fleeting. "The last time I tried that, it made Dean's ears bleed."
"You talked to Dean?"
"I tried. It was before I realized my true voice was too overwhelming for him." Tilting his head, he studies her. "You look ... unhappy. Are you jealous?"
"Damn straight I'm jealous."
"I told you. Human ears can't withstand our true voices."
Faith raises her chin. "I'm a slayer. I bet I could."
Castiel scowls. "Take care that you don't demand so much."
"Did Mark demand too much? You said he was a relentless seeker."
He doesn't answer, but the set of his jaw tells her what she wants to know. He's a little less gentle with the dabbing and spraying this time.
"Just because someone asks for too much doesn't mean God has to dump it on 'em."
"He would be satisfied with nothing less. The same is true of the medium who insisted on seeing my true form."
"The one you blinded?"
"If the sun can be said to blind those who are foolish enough to stare into it, then I suppose you could say I blinded her." He tapes a gauze pad over the elbow scrape.
"I irritate the shit out of you, don't I?"
"I couldn't accommodate you if I wished. Not in this body. I would rupture the vocal cords if I tried."
She's got him thinking about it. She squelches her smile of triumph. "You didn't answer the question."
"You don't need an answer." He blots gently at her chin, then sprays Bactine on another pad and dabs at the scrape there. "It's not just you. I have other things on my mind as well."
"Don't bother with a bandage there," she tells him. "I don't want that on my face." His fingers curled below her chin are just about all she can take. "So what's bothering you?"
"While you were showering, I spoke with Trudy. Her husband disappeared twenty years ago, with no word."
"Aw, Jesus," she whispers, and forgets to add her usual apology.
"It was three years before he turned up again. Three years that she held her breath with every phone call."
Faith meets his gaze, and the intensity of it is almost physical, electrical. "You're going to do it, aren't you?" She breathes in the childhood scent of Bactine, tries to find its comfort. "You're going to call Mark's wife."