(no subject)
Title: Crossroads (Part 1)
Fandom: Supernatural/BtVS
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Faith, Sam
Word Count: 3929
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I owned them, they'd be busy doing things to each other illegal in most of the fifty states.
Spoilers: No real spoilers, but if you haven’t seen Season 3 of Supernatural or Season 7 of Buffy - you’ve got some homework to do before reading this.
Summary: Sam and Dean are trying to track down the demons released by the opening of the Devil’s Gate. Dean decides that they need to visit a certain dark-haired Slayer and her Watcher to see if they have any helpful information to share. The brothers show up in Cleveland to find out that Faith already knows what’s happened.
Author's Notes: Prequel to Choosing Sides, set post-“Bad Day At Black Rock”. This AU assumes that Faith and Dean crossed paths at some point in S2 when Dean was looking for Sam. Rating is a fairly hard PG-13 - the story breaks just before the serious NC-17 party-time begins.
Cleveland, Ohio
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Sam said, using that voice - the voice that Dean knew meant he was thinking exactly the opposite of what he was saying.
“She can help,” was all he would say. “They’ve got…resources.” That’s putting it mildly, he thought, remembering the wealth of books and magical items he’d seen littering the tiny house on his last visit.
Sam was still unconvinced. “Dean, are you sure this isn’t just..?”
Dean glanced quickly at his brother. “Sammy, trust me, okay? If we’re gonna get a jump on these things, we need to go in a different direction. Someplace unexpected.” He eased off the accelerator - the area had gone residential on them, with a correspondingly sharp drop in speed limit. I’m sure it was around here somewhere. He was flying blind, though, and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before Sam brought up the fact that Dean hadn’t even remembered an address.
“How come you never told me?” It was a perfectly reasonable question, reasonably asked, and it still took Dean by surprise. He’d figured Sam was in one of his snits, and as such would be impossible to distract from his current list of complaints.
“She’s not easy to explain.” Hell of an understatement, he thought. He risked a glance at Sam again. “Not to mention the whole business was about finding you.”
Sam looked decidedly uncomfortable then. Before he could say anything, however, Dean caught sight of something moving through the trees. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered, slowing the car to a crawl.
“Looks like a fight,” Sam said, looking in the same direction. “One girl, at least three bad guys.”
Jackpot, Dean thought, snugging the car close to the curb and throwing the gear shift into park.
**************************************************
Faith had never been the sort of person to play “what if” with her life. That way led to “madness and sweaty palms” as Willow had used to say. Lately though, the regrets were becoming harder and harder to keep safely locked away.
So she patrolled, even though she had no one to teach anymore. Her last student was dead at the hands of a demon so powerful it had nearly taken all of them, and the Council was too busy with the opening of a fresh Hellmouth in Colorado to send her someone new.
She patrolled, even though she no longer had a Watcher to focus her wanderings - to give her purpose and direction.
She patrolled because the ever-growing vampire population could be counted on to give her at least a couple of hours a night where she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to work out in her mind just how spectacularly she had screwed up her life.
And she didn’t have to worry about what she was going to be asked to do to make it all right again.
“Come on, losers,” she groaned, staking another one. He exploded in the familiar cloud of dust, and without missing a beat Faith squared off with the remaining two. “You’re not even trying.” They were both looking wary of her now. She wasn’t even sure they’d known who she was when they’d first jumped her. Five vamps later, they were beginning to realize they’d made a very fatal mistake.
With a hiss of rage, the female vamp on her left charged. Faith ducked under her hastily thrown punch, sweeping out with a leg to drop the vamp on her backside. Leap, grab, crouch, and Faith drove her stake home.
Every Watcher she’d ever had, going all the way back to Professor Dormer, would have lectured her on giving her back to the remaining vampire, but the adrenaline had hit her system at last, and Faith was too far gone to care. The vamp grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet. Faith grinned wildly, twisting in his grip. A sharp punch to the neck made him let go, and the battle was on.
Dodge, punch, kick, flip. Faith grabbed the vamp’s wrist and twisted his arm up behind his back, slamming him face first into a nearby tree. He dropped like a sack of wet laundry when she let him go, then went to dust a moment later as she dropped to a crouch and staked him.
A hand gripped her shoulder. Faith didn’t think - she moved. Grabbing the wrist, she twisted around and shoved him up against the same tree she had just used to take out her last victim. She heard him grunt in pain as his back connected with the rough wood; her stake was already up and moving in for the kill.
A sudden, sharp pain lanced up her arm as the stake was slapped out of her hand, spinning uselessly into the darkness. “Faith! Faith, it’s me!”
Faith heard the panicked shout, but full awareness never touched her. Without missing a beat, she unsheathed the knife at her waist. Silver flashed in the yellow light of the sodium vapor lamps, as she swept up for the kill.
Unlike another time in a dark alley thousands of miles away and hundreds of lifetimes ago, recognition stayed her hand at the last possible second. Human. Adrenaline-fueled reflexes screamed at her to finish the job, but another, deeper instinct kept her still, searching for more information.
The hands that had disarmed her moments before were raised in surrender. No fear in the blue eyes, just a clear understanding of how close he was to dying. I know him, she thought…flashing briefly on a night some months earlier. Tammy had still been alive, and Robin… There’d been firelight and tequila, laughter and stolen kisses in the darkness. It had been fun - something Faith hadn’t known in a very long time.
A shotgun ratchet startled her, bringing her back to the here and now. She flinched - not much, but enough to nick the soft skin under the edge of her blade. Her control held, keeping her from going too far. This time…
“Let him go!”
Faith smiled. It wasn’t reassuring, and she didn’t mean it to be. There was fear in her captive’s eyes now - understanding - and it pleased her. Teach them, she thought. Teach them who they’re dealing with. It would be so simple. She could see it all in her head. Slit Dean’s…Dean?...throat, spin around and use his corpse to throw whoever it was out of the way.
Dean…Startled again, Faith focused on his face. “Come on, Faith,” he said. She felt his muscles tense briefly under her grip and saw the amount of control it was taking for him not to fight her. “Don’t be stupid, darlin’.”
She laughed. It was a raw, bloody sound, and she almost heard the “aw, fuck” as Dean realized just how far gone she was and how hopeless his situation really was.
“I mean it!” her unseen attacker yelled, a small quaver of fear in his voice. “I will shoot you!”
Do it, Faith thought. In her head he’d already fired. Please.
*************************
“Sam, drop it!” Dean couldn’t see his brother at the angle Faith had him pinned, but he could tell Sammy had already made several crucial mistakes. The look in Faith’s eyes told him that she knew it too; worse, that she had no problems taking advantage of them.
“Dean?”
Dean swallowed, trying to ignore the brush of the knife blade against his jugular. He could already feel blood on his skin - he didn’t want to give Faith an excuse to cut deeper. “Listen to me, Sammy. You need to step back and put the gun down. Right now.” He put as much weight as he could into the last command - trying to sound like Dad, hoping that would convince Sam how desperately serious he was.
She would kill him. He had no doubt of that. Whatever had happened to Faith in the months since he’d last crossed paths with her had marked her deeply. She’d always been crazy - her sidekick Tammy had been more than happy to expound on Faith’s “dark side” that evening they’d spent doing shots together while Faith’s boyfriend consulted some oracles looking for Sam. Faith hadn’t denied any of it, although Dean could tell that she wasn’t proud of the person Tammy was describing in such glowing terms.
This? Was different. This was a woman who would kill him and Sam just for the hell of it. They would die and never understand why she’d done it.
He almost cried with relief when he finally heard the shotgun hit the damp grass. “All right!” Sam yelled, letting them know that he was giving in. Finally. Dean let himself focus on Faith again.
“Truce?” he asked. One of the longest moments of his life stretched out between them; she didn’t move - Dean couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.
Then finally he felt the knife edge move away from his neck. Faith was stepping back and smiling at him - genuinely this time. “How’s it hanging, Half-Pint?”
Dean shot a warning glance at Sam, who was predictably smirking. Beats Stumpy, he thought, remembering the first nickname she’d hung him with. It had taken the better part of a bottle of tequila, matching Faith shot for shot, before she’d agreed with the marginally less offensive substitute. “That’s a hell of a greeting you’ve got there, babe. I thought we were square when I left?” There had been a *lot* of tequila, and some kissing they’d both filed under “bad idea”, but Dean was reasonably sure he hadn’t done anything unforgivably stupid.
Faith licked her lips, suddenly edgy again. “Five by five.” She jammed the knife back in its sheath and turned towards Sam. Dean saw his brother pull back instinctively, and suppressed a grin of his own. Everything they had seen in their travels together, and Dean knew Sam had no idea what to make of Faith.
“Um…hi?” Sam extended his hand. Faith stared at it for a moment, then stooped to retrieve the shotgun he’d dropped. “Sam Winchester,”
Faith checked the barrel of the shotgun. “Got that, thanks,” she said. Dean noticed that she’d shifted her stance to keep the two of them in sight.
“Sam, this is Faith,” Dean said, deciding to rescue his brother from the social wasteland he’d found himself in.
True to form, Sam shot him a wicked side-eye. “Got that, thanks.”
Faith exhaled sharply, bringing Dean’s focus back. “You guys just passing through or what?”
Whoa, Dean thought. There it was again - that sense of “wrong”. Something had happened in the months since he and Faith had parted…something serious. “Tracking a demon,” he said at last. “Wanted to see if you or Robin had a bead on it?”
She stared at him again for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally she lifted the gun in her hand, resting the barrel against her shoulder. Dean didn’t miss the fact that one small movement would bring it into firing position. “Let’s go.”
***********************************
Ten minute drive to the house in the car Faith remembered almost more clearly than she remembered Dean. She’d always been a motorcycle girl, but a person had to be clinically dead not to appreciate the beauty of the black Impala.
Ten minutes, but more than enough time for Dean to bring her up to speed and a few interesting puzzle pieces to fit themselves together. They’re responsible, she thought, staring at Dean. They’re responsible for all of it. Too many loyalties crushing down on her all at once, most of them in opposition, all of them coming down to a choice she didn’t feel prepared to make.
Faith leaped out of the car the second it rolled to a stop in her driveway, heading for the house without any sort of explanation. She needed information, needed somebody else to tell her what to do. I can’t do this, she thought, slamming through the front door and leaving two Winchesters and a world of unanswered questions in her wake. She stalked through the house, not seeing the clutter that had built up in the weeks since the demon had attacked and undone her life.
A small cell phone sat on the counter in the kitchen. Faith was constantly being reprimanded for leaving the Council-issued device behind, but the last two times she’d taken it on patrol with her, it had ended up in pieces.
“It’s me.” She couldn’t have dialed the overseas number from memory if her life had depended on it. Tammy had programmed her speed dial, putting “Master Control” as they’d labeled Council Headquarters, at #1.
“Little busy, Faith.” Xander’s voice, so distinterested Faith could have cheerfully reached through the phone and snapped his neck. “That Hellmouth did more damage than we thought.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Faith said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. “I’ve got some…stuff…out here looks like it might be connected.”
“What does Robin say?”
“Robin’s…” Robin’s gone, her brain screamed, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. There was a list of people she’d tell, but Xander Harris was nowhere on it. “Robin’s busy. Look, Harris - we need help.” Somebody else who can decide what to do about this so I don’t have to. She saw Dean in the doorway, watching quietly…listening to her side of the conversation.
“Let me talk to Giles.”
“Giles is in Colorado by now,” Xander said. “Buffy called him in last night.” There was a moment of silence, then he went on, “Look Faith - we’re all sorry about what happened…”
“Save it,” Faith growled - too low, she suspected, for Xander to have heard her.
“…but we’re dealing with a whole lot more than just one apprentice right now. Come on. Hold it together.”
Grimacing, Faith snapped the cell phone closed. “Harris, you suck.” It was times like this Faith seriously regretted any part she’d played in making Xander Harris the man he was today. She looked up at Dean, standing in the doorway watching her.
“Sounded…unproductive.”
She brushed her tangled hair back off her face. “Fucking bureaucracy. The stories I could tell you about that guy…” Faith broke off, suddenly realizing there was still a decision to be made. And it’s all mine.
“Anyway, they’ve sent all hands out to Colorado, to check out your mess.”
“Hang on,” Dean said, moving further into the kitchen. “It’s not our mess. Did you guys miss the part where we nearly died trying to stop it?” He swore softly, shaking his head. “I was hoping you’d be able to help us get a jump on these things!”
Faith spread her hands, shrugging in a “what’re you gonna do” gesture. “In case you haven’t scoped it yet, Half-Pint, I’m not good for a whole hell of a lot right now.” She paused, making her decision in a flash. “But as far as I’m concerned, you guys can have at Robin’s stuff. Anything you can use, it’s yours.”
**********************************
Sam had been honestly surprised when Dean returned a few minutes after chasing Faith into the kitchen. His brother’s protestations aside, Sam had remained largely convinced this was going to be yet another of Dean’s “year to live” booty calls. And this one’s dangerous. He hadn’t liked how fast she’d gotten the drop on Dean. They’d been sloppy, and had almost paid for it in a very fatal way.
She can move, he thought, as Faith sauntered past him. Rough and strung out as she looked, she was still hotter and more dangerous than anything Sam had ever seen. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until Dean biffed him in the back of the head. “We’re in.”
He suspected even Dean didn’t know how badly he was understating the truth until they entered the house’s “library”, and Sam stopped dead in his tracks. He thought he’d seen the best the supernatural world had to offer. Bobby would shit, he thought, turning slowly on the spot to take in the floor-to-ceiling shelves groaning under the weight of more books than he’d ever seen in a private collection.
Faith had moved by the window, giving them - and herself - some room. “Like I said, I’m not much for books these days. You’re welcome to whatever you can find.” She pointed at a small safe sitting on the floor. “The really dangerous stuff’s in there. It mostly deals with ancient prophecies - I’d stay away from it unless you’re really feeling suicidal.” She indicated a closed laptop. “If you get frustrated, I can log you on as Robin and get you access to the Council data base.”
Sam blinked, startled at the sudden outpouring of generosity. “What’s the catch?”
She smiled at him, but there was no warmth to it. Again, Sam thought. “No catch. Somebody might as well get some use out of them.”
She started to walk past them, but Dean stopped her. Sam was grateful that whatever Dean’s hormonal issues might be, he wasn’t blind to the “wrongness” coming off Faith in waves. “Robin’s okay with you logging us on under his ID?”
There was a long moment of silence, before Faith said, “5 x 5.” She glanced at Sam, but spoke to Dean. “Come on. Let’s give College Boy here some privacy.”
Sam didn’t want Dean alone with Faith any more than absolutely necessary. He tried to tell his brother as much without words, but Dean was just as adamant that Sam get to work and find whatever they needed to start tracking down the demons.
Crossroads demon, Sam thought, turning away from his brother’s retreating back and eyeing the wealth of information suddenly placed at his fingertips. There’s got to be something in here somewhere.
***************************************
“You gonna tell me what happened?”
Faith had almost crossed the living room, heading back for the kitchen, when Dean’s question stopped her cold. Her right hand closed around the wood trimmed door jamb, and he saw the knuckles briefly whiten. Faith was quiet long enough for him to close the distance between them by half. He hesitated then, unsure whether it was safe to go closer.
“Not here,” she said finally, not looking at him. “I need a drink.”
He followed her back into the kitchen. She passed the first cold beer to him, and took another one for herself. “Opener’s in the drawer by the sink,” she said, putting her back against a row of cabinets and watching him expectantly. He retrieved it and opened his own bottle, before passing it to her. She popped the cap and drained a third of the liquor before finally meeting his eyes.
“What happened?” he repeated, his voice gentle this time. “Where are they?”
She exhaled sharply and took another swig. “We found your demon.” One eyebrow cocked, considering what she’d just said. “Okay no - your demon found us.”
The truth of what he’d been seeing in Faith finally clicked into place. “Shit,” he swore softly, taking a drink of his own beer as much to give himself time to process as anything. His reaction made Faith laugh again - that same harsh, bitter laugh that hurt his ears.
“Yeah, shit.” Another drink. “Bastard got Tammy first. She’d started patrolling on her own. Council thought she was ready.” Faith had too, Dean realized, recognizing the shape her guilt had taken. “There wasn’t even enough left to bury.”
Dean held his breath - knowing there was more to come, and that “sorry” wasn’t going to be even close to the right response. We did this. I did this to her. It was everything his father had ever lectured him about. He’d been too slow, too sloppy - and good people had paid in blood.
“Robin kept telling me I had to wait.” Faith’s focus had turned inward, reliving the nightmare as she shared it. “Said we had to do more research - get more help. I told him to go fuck himself.” She took a shaky breath, and drained the bottle, setting it down hard on the counter. “When I got back that night, he was gone.”
Gone… Dean waited a moment for Faith to elaborate, but the dark-haired Slayer had gone silent again. “When was this?”
His voice seemed to startle Faith back to the present. She looked at him for a long moment, struggling to orient herself. “Couple weeks,” she said, clearly uncertain. “Maybe as long as a month.”
Something about that revelation didn’t seem right to Dean. “You’ve been here by yourself for a month?” He didn’t know much - hell, anything - about the mysterious “Council” Faith worked for, but he’d seen for himself how important the Watcher-Slayer dynamic was. “No Watcher or anything?”
It took a conscious effort for him not to step backwards; Faith’s emotional walls had gone up so quickly and with such force that it was almost tangible. “I have gone Watcher-less before, Half-Pint,” she smirked, daring to come closer to him. “It’s not my first dance by a long shot.” Her posture was aggressive now, daring him to challenge her ability to survive on her own.
Dean knew he didn’t have to challenge her - the evidence of how well Faith was surviving was all around them. What the hell can you do about her problems anyway? a mocking little voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Sam asked. Got more than enough of your own to worry about. “They shouldn’t be leaving you alone out here,” he said at last.
“I’m fine. Really.” Faith shrugged. “Rule number one of being a Slayer - people die.”
Dean thought about the lengths he had gone to in order to beat that idea. Dad had done it for him, he had done it for Sam - and in all their clever maneuvering, neither Winchester had managed to entirely avoid that one unchangeable rule. I just put it off for a year. “I want to help,” he said. Before she could protest or put him off, he continued, “Come on - we owe you for giving us a look at Robin’s books. Sammy ‘bout wet himself in there.” That drew something close to a genuine smile out of her.
“Besides,” he said, flashing on another night they’d stood in this kitchen, “I never thanked you properly for helping me last time.”
She looked him over appraisingly. “I thought we decided that was a bad idea,” she said, taking another half step into him. Dean laughed, raising his hands in surrender.
“Babe, you are hot enough to get a dead man thinking impure thoughts. I just figured it was bad form to do what we were both thinking with your boyfriend in the next room.” Now she really was too close. Dean didn’t resist as she reached across and took the bottle out of his hand.
“Not a problem anymore,” she said, draining the bottle and setting it on the counter beside her.
This is a bad idea! the little voice in his head was screaming. Dean knew if Sam had been in his place in that moment, there probably would have been a long, drawn out conversation about feelings and destiny - moments in time, and how he respected the Slayer too much to take advantage of her obviously distressed condition.
Lucky for both of us, I’m not him, Dean thought, leaning in to kiss Faith gently on the lips. “All you had to do was ask, darlin’,” he whispered, their mouths barely parted.
She kissed him then, hard and hungry - stealing his breath and leaving him shaky and weak. When they came up for air this time, Faith’s smile had gone savage. “I’m asking.”
************************************
Fandom: Supernatural/BtVS
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Faith, Sam
Word Count: 3929
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I owned them, they'd be busy doing things to each other illegal in most of the fifty states.
Spoilers: No real spoilers, but if you haven’t seen Season 3 of Supernatural or Season 7 of Buffy - you’ve got some homework to do before reading this.
Summary: Sam and Dean are trying to track down the demons released by the opening of the Devil’s Gate. Dean decides that they need to visit a certain dark-haired Slayer and her Watcher to see if they have any helpful information to share. The brothers show up in Cleveland to find out that Faith already knows what’s happened.
Author's Notes: Prequel to Choosing Sides, set post-“Bad Day At Black Rock”. This AU assumes that Faith and Dean crossed paths at some point in S2 when Dean was looking for Sam. Rating is a fairly hard PG-13 - the story breaks just before the serious NC-17 party-time begins.
Cleveland, Ohio
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Sam said, using that voice - the voice that Dean knew meant he was thinking exactly the opposite of what he was saying.
“She can help,” was all he would say. “They’ve got…resources.” That’s putting it mildly, he thought, remembering the wealth of books and magical items he’d seen littering the tiny house on his last visit.
Sam was still unconvinced. “Dean, are you sure this isn’t just..?”
Dean glanced quickly at his brother. “Sammy, trust me, okay? If we’re gonna get a jump on these things, we need to go in a different direction. Someplace unexpected.” He eased off the accelerator - the area had gone residential on them, with a correspondingly sharp drop in speed limit. I’m sure it was around here somewhere. He was flying blind, though, and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before Sam brought up the fact that Dean hadn’t even remembered an address.
“How come you never told me?” It was a perfectly reasonable question, reasonably asked, and it still took Dean by surprise. He’d figured Sam was in one of his snits, and as such would be impossible to distract from his current list of complaints.
“She’s not easy to explain.” Hell of an understatement, he thought. He risked a glance at Sam again. “Not to mention the whole business was about finding you.”
Sam looked decidedly uncomfortable then. Before he could say anything, however, Dean caught sight of something moving through the trees. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered, slowing the car to a crawl.
“Looks like a fight,” Sam said, looking in the same direction. “One girl, at least three bad guys.”
Jackpot, Dean thought, snugging the car close to the curb and throwing the gear shift into park.
**************************************************
Faith had never been the sort of person to play “what if” with her life. That way led to “madness and sweaty palms” as Willow had used to say. Lately though, the regrets were becoming harder and harder to keep safely locked away.
So she patrolled, even though she had no one to teach anymore. Her last student was dead at the hands of a demon so powerful it had nearly taken all of them, and the Council was too busy with the opening of a fresh Hellmouth in Colorado to send her someone new.
She patrolled, even though she no longer had a Watcher to focus her wanderings - to give her purpose and direction.
She patrolled because the ever-growing vampire population could be counted on to give her at least a couple of hours a night where she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to work out in her mind just how spectacularly she had screwed up her life.
And she didn’t have to worry about what she was going to be asked to do to make it all right again.
“Come on, losers,” she groaned, staking another one. He exploded in the familiar cloud of dust, and without missing a beat Faith squared off with the remaining two. “You’re not even trying.” They were both looking wary of her now. She wasn’t even sure they’d known who she was when they’d first jumped her. Five vamps later, they were beginning to realize they’d made a very fatal mistake.
With a hiss of rage, the female vamp on her left charged. Faith ducked under her hastily thrown punch, sweeping out with a leg to drop the vamp on her backside. Leap, grab, crouch, and Faith drove her stake home.
Every Watcher she’d ever had, going all the way back to Professor Dormer, would have lectured her on giving her back to the remaining vampire, but the adrenaline had hit her system at last, and Faith was too far gone to care. The vamp grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet. Faith grinned wildly, twisting in his grip. A sharp punch to the neck made him let go, and the battle was on.
Dodge, punch, kick, flip. Faith grabbed the vamp’s wrist and twisted his arm up behind his back, slamming him face first into a nearby tree. He dropped like a sack of wet laundry when she let him go, then went to dust a moment later as she dropped to a crouch and staked him.
A hand gripped her shoulder. Faith didn’t think - she moved. Grabbing the wrist, she twisted around and shoved him up against the same tree she had just used to take out her last victim. She heard him grunt in pain as his back connected with the rough wood; her stake was already up and moving in for the kill.
A sudden, sharp pain lanced up her arm as the stake was slapped out of her hand, spinning uselessly into the darkness. “Faith! Faith, it’s me!”
Faith heard the panicked shout, but full awareness never touched her. Without missing a beat, she unsheathed the knife at her waist. Silver flashed in the yellow light of the sodium vapor lamps, as she swept up for the kill.
Unlike another time in a dark alley thousands of miles away and hundreds of lifetimes ago, recognition stayed her hand at the last possible second. Human. Adrenaline-fueled reflexes screamed at her to finish the job, but another, deeper instinct kept her still, searching for more information.
The hands that had disarmed her moments before were raised in surrender. No fear in the blue eyes, just a clear understanding of how close he was to dying. I know him, she thought…flashing briefly on a night some months earlier. Tammy had still been alive, and Robin… There’d been firelight and tequila, laughter and stolen kisses in the darkness. It had been fun - something Faith hadn’t known in a very long time.
A shotgun ratchet startled her, bringing her back to the here and now. She flinched - not much, but enough to nick the soft skin under the edge of her blade. Her control held, keeping her from going too far. This time…
“Let him go!”
Faith smiled. It wasn’t reassuring, and she didn’t mean it to be. There was fear in her captive’s eyes now - understanding - and it pleased her. Teach them, she thought. Teach them who they’re dealing with. It would be so simple. She could see it all in her head. Slit Dean’s…Dean?...throat, spin around and use his corpse to throw whoever it was out of the way.
Dean…Startled again, Faith focused on his face. “Come on, Faith,” he said. She felt his muscles tense briefly under her grip and saw the amount of control it was taking for him not to fight her. “Don’t be stupid, darlin’.”
She laughed. It was a raw, bloody sound, and she almost heard the “aw, fuck” as Dean realized just how far gone she was and how hopeless his situation really was.
“I mean it!” her unseen attacker yelled, a small quaver of fear in his voice. “I will shoot you!”
Do it, Faith thought. In her head he’d already fired. Please.
*************************
“Sam, drop it!” Dean couldn’t see his brother at the angle Faith had him pinned, but he could tell Sammy had already made several crucial mistakes. The look in Faith’s eyes told him that she knew it too; worse, that she had no problems taking advantage of them.
“Dean?”
Dean swallowed, trying to ignore the brush of the knife blade against his jugular. He could already feel blood on his skin - he didn’t want to give Faith an excuse to cut deeper. “Listen to me, Sammy. You need to step back and put the gun down. Right now.” He put as much weight as he could into the last command - trying to sound like Dad, hoping that would convince Sam how desperately serious he was.
She would kill him. He had no doubt of that. Whatever had happened to Faith in the months since he’d last crossed paths with her had marked her deeply. She’d always been crazy - her sidekick Tammy had been more than happy to expound on Faith’s “dark side” that evening they’d spent doing shots together while Faith’s boyfriend consulted some oracles looking for Sam. Faith hadn’t denied any of it, although Dean could tell that she wasn’t proud of the person Tammy was describing in such glowing terms.
This? Was different. This was a woman who would kill him and Sam just for the hell of it. They would die and never understand why she’d done it.
He almost cried with relief when he finally heard the shotgun hit the damp grass. “All right!” Sam yelled, letting them know that he was giving in. Finally. Dean let himself focus on Faith again.
“Truce?” he asked. One of the longest moments of his life stretched out between them; she didn’t move - Dean couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.
Then finally he felt the knife edge move away from his neck. Faith was stepping back and smiling at him - genuinely this time. “How’s it hanging, Half-Pint?”
Dean shot a warning glance at Sam, who was predictably smirking. Beats Stumpy, he thought, remembering the first nickname she’d hung him with. It had taken the better part of a bottle of tequila, matching Faith shot for shot, before she’d agreed with the marginally less offensive substitute. “That’s a hell of a greeting you’ve got there, babe. I thought we were square when I left?” There had been a *lot* of tequila, and some kissing they’d both filed under “bad idea”, but Dean was reasonably sure he hadn’t done anything unforgivably stupid.
Faith licked her lips, suddenly edgy again. “Five by five.” She jammed the knife back in its sheath and turned towards Sam. Dean saw his brother pull back instinctively, and suppressed a grin of his own. Everything they had seen in their travels together, and Dean knew Sam had no idea what to make of Faith.
“Um…hi?” Sam extended his hand. Faith stared at it for a moment, then stooped to retrieve the shotgun he’d dropped. “Sam Winchester,”
Faith checked the barrel of the shotgun. “Got that, thanks,” she said. Dean noticed that she’d shifted her stance to keep the two of them in sight.
“Sam, this is Faith,” Dean said, deciding to rescue his brother from the social wasteland he’d found himself in.
True to form, Sam shot him a wicked side-eye. “Got that, thanks.”
Faith exhaled sharply, bringing Dean’s focus back. “You guys just passing through or what?”
Whoa, Dean thought. There it was again - that sense of “wrong”. Something had happened in the months since he and Faith had parted…something serious. “Tracking a demon,” he said at last. “Wanted to see if you or Robin had a bead on it?”
She stared at him again for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally she lifted the gun in her hand, resting the barrel against her shoulder. Dean didn’t miss the fact that one small movement would bring it into firing position. “Let’s go.”
***********************************
Ten minute drive to the house in the car Faith remembered almost more clearly than she remembered Dean. She’d always been a motorcycle girl, but a person had to be clinically dead not to appreciate the beauty of the black Impala.
Ten minutes, but more than enough time for Dean to bring her up to speed and a few interesting puzzle pieces to fit themselves together. They’re responsible, she thought, staring at Dean. They’re responsible for all of it. Too many loyalties crushing down on her all at once, most of them in opposition, all of them coming down to a choice she didn’t feel prepared to make.
Faith leaped out of the car the second it rolled to a stop in her driveway, heading for the house without any sort of explanation. She needed information, needed somebody else to tell her what to do. I can’t do this, she thought, slamming through the front door and leaving two Winchesters and a world of unanswered questions in her wake. She stalked through the house, not seeing the clutter that had built up in the weeks since the demon had attacked and undone her life.
A small cell phone sat on the counter in the kitchen. Faith was constantly being reprimanded for leaving the Council-issued device behind, but the last two times she’d taken it on patrol with her, it had ended up in pieces.
“It’s me.” She couldn’t have dialed the overseas number from memory if her life had depended on it. Tammy had programmed her speed dial, putting “Master Control” as they’d labeled Council Headquarters, at #1.
“Little busy, Faith.” Xander’s voice, so distinterested Faith could have cheerfully reached through the phone and snapped his neck. “That Hellmouth did more damage than we thought.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Faith said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. “I’ve got some…stuff…out here looks like it might be connected.”
“What does Robin say?”
“Robin’s…” Robin’s gone, her brain screamed, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. There was a list of people she’d tell, but Xander Harris was nowhere on it. “Robin’s busy. Look, Harris - we need help.” Somebody else who can decide what to do about this so I don’t have to. She saw Dean in the doorway, watching quietly…listening to her side of the conversation.
“Let me talk to Giles.”
“Giles is in Colorado by now,” Xander said. “Buffy called him in last night.” There was a moment of silence, then he went on, “Look Faith - we’re all sorry about what happened…”
“Save it,” Faith growled - too low, she suspected, for Xander to have heard her.
“…but we’re dealing with a whole lot more than just one apprentice right now. Come on. Hold it together.”
Grimacing, Faith snapped the cell phone closed. “Harris, you suck.” It was times like this Faith seriously regretted any part she’d played in making Xander Harris the man he was today. She looked up at Dean, standing in the doorway watching her.
“Sounded…unproductive.”
She brushed her tangled hair back off her face. “Fucking bureaucracy. The stories I could tell you about that guy…” Faith broke off, suddenly realizing there was still a decision to be made. And it’s all mine.
“Anyway, they’ve sent all hands out to Colorado, to check out your mess.”
“Hang on,” Dean said, moving further into the kitchen. “It’s not our mess. Did you guys miss the part where we nearly died trying to stop it?” He swore softly, shaking his head. “I was hoping you’d be able to help us get a jump on these things!”
Faith spread her hands, shrugging in a “what’re you gonna do” gesture. “In case you haven’t scoped it yet, Half-Pint, I’m not good for a whole hell of a lot right now.” She paused, making her decision in a flash. “But as far as I’m concerned, you guys can have at Robin’s stuff. Anything you can use, it’s yours.”
**********************************
Sam had been honestly surprised when Dean returned a few minutes after chasing Faith into the kitchen. His brother’s protestations aside, Sam had remained largely convinced this was going to be yet another of Dean’s “year to live” booty calls. And this one’s dangerous. He hadn’t liked how fast she’d gotten the drop on Dean. They’d been sloppy, and had almost paid for it in a very fatal way.
She can move, he thought, as Faith sauntered past him. Rough and strung out as she looked, she was still hotter and more dangerous than anything Sam had ever seen. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until Dean biffed him in the back of the head. “We’re in.”
He suspected even Dean didn’t know how badly he was understating the truth until they entered the house’s “library”, and Sam stopped dead in his tracks. He thought he’d seen the best the supernatural world had to offer. Bobby would shit, he thought, turning slowly on the spot to take in the floor-to-ceiling shelves groaning under the weight of more books than he’d ever seen in a private collection.
Faith had moved by the window, giving them - and herself - some room. “Like I said, I’m not much for books these days. You’re welcome to whatever you can find.” She pointed at a small safe sitting on the floor. “The really dangerous stuff’s in there. It mostly deals with ancient prophecies - I’d stay away from it unless you’re really feeling suicidal.” She indicated a closed laptop. “If you get frustrated, I can log you on as Robin and get you access to the Council data base.”
Sam blinked, startled at the sudden outpouring of generosity. “What’s the catch?”
She smiled at him, but there was no warmth to it. Again, Sam thought. “No catch. Somebody might as well get some use out of them.”
She started to walk past them, but Dean stopped her. Sam was grateful that whatever Dean’s hormonal issues might be, he wasn’t blind to the “wrongness” coming off Faith in waves. “Robin’s okay with you logging us on under his ID?”
There was a long moment of silence, before Faith said, “5 x 5.” She glanced at Sam, but spoke to Dean. “Come on. Let’s give College Boy here some privacy.”
Sam didn’t want Dean alone with Faith any more than absolutely necessary. He tried to tell his brother as much without words, but Dean was just as adamant that Sam get to work and find whatever they needed to start tracking down the demons.
Crossroads demon, Sam thought, turning away from his brother’s retreating back and eyeing the wealth of information suddenly placed at his fingertips. There’s got to be something in here somewhere.
***************************************
“You gonna tell me what happened?”
Faith had almost crossed the living room, heading back for the kitchen, when Dean’s question stopped her cold. Her right hand closed around the wood trimmed door jamb, and he saw the knuckles briefly whiten. Faith was quiet long enough for him to close the distance between them by half. He hesitated then, unsure whether it was safe to go closer.
“Not here,” she said finally, not looking at him. “I need a drink.”
He followed her back into the kitchen. She passed the first cold beer to him, and took another one for herself. “Opener’s in the drawer by the sink,” she said, putting her back against a row of cabinets and watching him expectantly. He retrieved it and opened his own bottle, before passing it to her. She popped the cap and drained a third of the liquor before finally meeting his eyes.
“What happened?” he repeated, his voice gentle this time. “Where are they?”
She exhaled sharply and took another swig. “We found your demon.” One eyebrow cocked, considering what she’d just said. “Okay no - your demon found us.”
The truth of what he’d been seeing in Faith finally clicked into place. “Shit,” he swore softly, taking a drink of his own beer as much to give himself time to process as anything. His reaction made Faith laugh again - that same harsh, bitter laugh that hurt his ears.
“Yeah, shit.” Another drink. “Bastard got Tammy first. She’d started patrolling on her own. Council thought she was ready.” Faith had too, Dean realized, recognizing the shape her guilt had taken. “There wasn’t even enough left to bury.”
Dean held his breath - knowing there was more to come, and that “sorry” wasn’t going to be even close to the right response. We did this. I did this to her. It was everything his father had ever lectured him about. He’d been too slow, too sloppy - and good people had paid in blood.
“Robin kept telling me I had to wait.” Faith’s focus had turned inward, reliving the nightmare as she shared it. “Said we had to do more research - get more help. I told him to go fuck himself.” She took a shaky breath, and drained the bottle, setting it down hard on the counter. “When I got back that night, he was gone.”
Gone… Dean waited a moment for Faith to elaborate, but the dark-haired Slayer had gone silent again. “When was this?”
His voice seemed to startle Faith back to the present. She looked at him for a long moment, struggling to orient herself. “Couple weeks,” she said, clearly uncertain. “Maybe as long as a month.”
Something about that revelation didn’t seem right to Dean. “You’ve been here by yourself for a month?” He didn’t know much - hell, anything - about the mysterious “Council” Faith worked for, but he’d seen for himself how important the Watcher-Slayer dynamic was. “No Watcher or anything?”
It took a conscious effort for him not to step backwards; Faith’s emotional walls had gone up so quickly and with such force that it was almost tangible. “I have gone Watcher-less before, Half-Pint,” she smirked, daring to come closer to him. “It’s not my first dance by a long shot.” Her posture was aggressive now, daring him to challenge her ability to survive on her own.
Dean knew he didn’t have to challenge her - the evidence of how well Faith was surviving was all around them. What the hell can you do about her problems anyway? a mocking little voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Sam asked. Got more than enough of your own to worry about. “They shouldn’t be leaving you alone out here,” he said at last.
“I’m fine. Really.” Faith shrugged. “Rule number one of being a Slayer - people die.”
Dean thought about the lengths he had gone to in order to beat that idea. Dad had done it for him, he had done it for Sam - and in all their clever maneuvering, neither Winchester had managed to entirely avoid that one unchangeable rule. I just put it off for a year. “I want to help,” he said. Before she could protest or put him off, he continued, “Come on - we owe you for giving us a look at Robin’s books. Sammy ‘bout wet himself in there.” That drew something close to a genuine smile out of her.
“Besides,” he said, flashing on another night they’d stood in this kitchen, “I never thanked you properly for helping me last time.”
She looked him over appraisingly. “I thought we decided that was a bad idea,” she said, taking another half step into him. Dean laughed, raising his hands in surrender.
“Babe, you are hot enough to get a dead man thinking impure thoughts. I just figured it was bad form to do what we were both thinking with your boyfriend in the next room.” Now she really was too close. Dean didn’t resist as she reached across and took the bottle out of his hand.
“Not a problem anymore,” she said, draining the bottle and setting it on the counter beside her.
This is a bad idea! the little voice in his head was screaming. Dean knew if Sam had been in his place in that moment, there probably would have been a long, drawn out conversation about feelings and destiny - moments in time, and how he respected the Slayer too much to take advantage of her obviously distressed condition.
Lucky for both of us, I’m not him, Dean thought, leaning in to kiss Faith gently on the lips. “All you had to do was ask, darlin’,” he whispered, their mouths barely parted.
She kissed him then, hard and hungry - stealing his breath and leaving him shaky and weak. When they came up for air this time, Faith’s smile had gone savage. “I’m asking.”
************************************