In Another Life Chapter Three
Title: In Another Life
Pairing: Dean/Faith (Of course...)
Rating: PG13 for language and references to sexual situations, but we totally reserve the right to change the rating as we go!
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“Oh, holy hell, my head,” Faith muttered, trying to force her eyes open. She had the worst headache she could remember and the taste in her mouth was one she didn’t even want to try to describe. She couldn’t remember heading back to the motel, but she could feel the warmth of the body lying beside her, so she must’ve ended up going with Dean at some point. She squinted, trying to focus on the broad shoulders and as her vision cleared, her heart started to pound and her head spun.
They were broad, tanned and male, but there was no scar on his left shoulder from a shapeshifter with a fire axe. There were no old knife wounds, no tan line on his bicep from riding with his arm hanging out of the Impala’s window. The hair was still brown, but it was a little longer, looked professionally cut and Faith found herself having trouble breathing.
Never, not in her whole life, had she been drunk enough that she didn’t remember the previous night and no way in hell would she willingly have gone home with anyone but Dean. Her hand was trembling when she reached out to touch the stranger’s shoulder. He groaned in his sleep and rolled over and Faith decided she’d gone around the bend, completely loony tunes, lock me up crazy.
The lazy smirk and the sleepy green eyes. The dark stubble that covered his jaw. She knew what that felt like on her skin, knew those lips, that sensual mouth. It was Dean but… it wasn’t.
“Hey, baby, you’re awake early,” he said, smiling and reaching for her. Faith shook her head and pulled back, wordlessly, finally looking around herself.
It looked like an apartment, a young woman’s bedroom, with posters on the wall, a fluffy white bedspread, a small lamp on the nightstand and a photo in a frame that looked for all the world like herself and Dean.
The Dean look alike was frowning at her.
“Faith? Babe, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked and she gave a shaky nod. Best to play along until she knew what was going on.
“I’m good. Five by five. Just… need the bathroom,” she said, forcing her voice not to tremble as she slid out of bed and made a dash for the bedroom door.
She found the bathroom across the hall and locked the door behind herself, moving carefully toward the mirror, as if her reflection might jump out and attack her. She moved slowly until she was directly in front of the mirror, the looked up.
The girl that stared back at her had artfully tousled dark hair with blond streaks that had come from an actual salon, not a box of do it yourself dye. Her skin was that impossible creamy perfection that didn’t exist outside of Noxema commercials, definitely not the tanned, wind and sun roughened face of a Slayer. She reached up and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a tiny diamond stud in her lobe. She glanced at the hand, then looked down at her fingers, the unscarred skin, the unbroken, perfectly manicured nails polished a smooth, shiny pearl color. She looked down at herself, the white bikini panties and thin white camisole. Her skin was the smooth perfect tan that came from a tanning bed and her toenails were painted the same pearl as her fingernails. She raised her eyes back to meet her own gaze in the mirror.
“Well, shit.”
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