Living on a Prayer, BtVS/SPN, part 6/?
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.
Slight change in what's gone before: Chatham just wasn't doing it for me, so I've transplanted Faith's childhood to Southie. (Which is mostly fictional here, with some sprinklings of truth.) Previous chapters will be fixed. Thanks to all who contributed their observations and pointed me toward resources.
When Faith rolls into the old neighborhood, it's about three a.m. She wonders if anything's shaking in the seaport district. She used to put in a lot of patrol time along the docks, by the fish processing plants and the rows of abandoned buildings, prime spots for vampire nests. It was in one of those old plants where she and Pauline cornered Kakistos -- or were allowed to think that they had. The remembered smell of salt air and rotted fish and blood makes her feel like gagging.
She's not going there. Not for any amount of money.
She heads for her old street instead. The bar where she used to go hear Kenny's band is still there, looking less rundown than it used to. The snob value of the neon beer signs in the window has gone up, for sure. Next door is a tattoo parlor with a pretentious name.
"That's new," she says out loud. When she was living here, you had to leave the state to get ink. She and Ronnie had gone up to New Hampshire and gotten each other's names on their arms. She ended up paying for them both, and six months later, she'd gone back to have his name covered with the tribal. That was an early life lesson.
She passes the corner store where her ma would send Faith for cereal and milk when she wasn't up to making Kraft mac and cheese. The packie where Ma picked up her booze and lottery tickets; the bar where she picked up her guy of the night. Her luck was no better with them than with the lottery tickets. The high school, where Faith had spent as little time as possible.
She drives past the street she grew up on, lined with triple-decker houses jammed together. Maybe she'll swing by when this is all over. Maybe she won't.
On the next block is the youth center and the dental clinic and on the corner is the Albanian orthodox church. Catty corner from that, like a Lowe's that springs up across the street from the Home Depot, is the Catholic church where she used to sit and look at that fierce and beautiful angel.
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.
Slight change in what's gone before: Chatham just wasn't doing it for me, so I've transplanted Faith's childhood to Southie. (Which is mostly fictional here, with some sprinklings of truth.) Previous chapters will be fixed. Thanks to all who contributed their observations and pointed me toward resources.
When Faith rolls into the old neighborhood, it's about three a.m. She wonders if anything's shaking in the seaport district. She used to put in a lot of patrol time along the docks, by the fish processing plants and the rows of abandoned buildings, prime spots for vampire nests. It was in one of those old plants where she and Pauline cornered Kakistos -- or were allowed to think that they had. The remembered smell of salt air and rotted fish and blood makes her feel like gagging.
She's not going there. Not for any amount of money.
She heads for her old street instead. The bar where she used to go hear Kenny's band is still there, looking less rundown than it used to. The snob value of the neon beer signs in the window has gone up, for sure. Next door is a tattoo parlor with a pretentious name.
"That's new," she says out loud. When she was living here, you had to leave the state to get ink. She and Ronnie had gone up to New Hampshire and gotten each other's names on their arms. She ended up paying for them both, and six months later, she'd gone back to have his name covered with the tribal. That was an early life lesson.
She passes the corner store where her ma would send Faith for cereal and milk when she wasn't up to making Kraft mac and cheese. The packie where Ma picked up her booze and lottery tickets; the bar where she picked up her guy of the night. Her luck was no better with them than with the lottery tickets. The high school, where Faith had spent as little time as possible.
She drives past the street she grew up on, lined with triple-decker houses jammed together. Maybe she'll swing by when this is all over. Maybe she won't.
On the next block is the youth center and the dental clinic and on the corner is the Albanian orthodox church. Catty corner from that, like a Lowe's that springs up across the street from the Home Depot, is the Catholic church where she used to sit and look at that fierce and beautiful angel.