Living on a Prayer, BtVS/SPN, part 26/approx 30 (story complete)
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.
Spoilers through SPN 4.10 "Heaven and Hell," incorporates world-building details revealed since.
Previous parts are here.
Faith gazes down at the tops of the skeletal trees below her feet, the blood roaring in her ears, her heart jackhammering. She's not sure if these reactions stem from the dizzying sense of height or the electricity of Castiel's touch. It's nothing like the sexual buzz of the moment when he'd stuffed the snow down her collar. It's more like an elemental force, like nothing she's felt before from him.
She immediately revises that thought as a deep, cellular memory kicks in. She recalls the being who gathered her broken, lifeless body and shifted its molecules until she was whole again, though she doesn't understand how she could possibly remember this.
Her head snapping up, Faith looks at Castiel in surprise and finds her expression mirrored in his. She feels things rearranging within her again, and she's not sure if she's dying or being reborn. "You'd think I'd know," she hears herself say out loud.
Suddenly the current shuts off as if he's tugged his hand from her grasp, although he hasn't. Castiel stumbles backward against the framework holding the glass panes.
Faith nearly screams, half expecting him to fall through, tumbling into the bare branches below. But he catches himself as Sam is in mid-stride toward him, arm extended to help. Faith doesn't even realize she's staggered herself until Dean has circled her waist with an arm, steadying her.
"The hell was that?" Bobby says.
"I'm not sure," Castiel says.
"It was the real you," Faith says. "I remember. From when I was dead."
"What?" Bobby blurts.
Before anyone can enlighten him, or even figure out how a remotely plausible way to do so, a couple of shrieking rugrats come thundering into the narrow space, making the ground shudder beneath her feet.
Faith's knees wobble. "Get me offa this!"
Dean shifts his arm around her shoulders, steering her back to secure land. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Little disoriented."
"Whatd'you mean, when you were dead?" Bobby demands.
Just then the parents of the hellspawn trundle into the area, taking in their group with undisguised curiosity.
Castiel tears himself away from one last look out the glass walls and joins them. "She fell in battle," he says quietly. "I was sent to raise her, as I did Dean."
"What about you?" Faith asks. "Do you feel any stronger? Any weaker?"
"I felt something flow between us, but it was interrupted," he says. "I feel no better or worse now that it's gone."
"What stopped it?"
Castiel shakes his head. "I can't say."
"What caused it in the first place?" Dean asks.
"I'm not sure," Castiel says again. "Perhaps the power of this place. Perhaps the sensations of being suspended over this valley, the familiarity of it."
"This isn't helping us find the seal, though," Dean states. "We've got a helluva lot of ground to cover."
***
The weird just keeps on coming. Different types of weird, in waves.
After they pass through the house itself, there's a crazy quilt of sheds and buildings linked together that houses the displays and collections. Faith's not sure if it's the place itself or the strange experience she just shared with Castiel, but this series of rooms reminds her of times when she was sick as a kid, with fevers that carried her from one bizarre dream to another.
There's a section that's meant to recreate an old-time main street, which almost seems normal enough, except the brick street and its storefronts and windows are lit by a string of light bulbs instead of any kind of natural light, giving the scene a pervasive sense of dark. The slight downward slope of the floor makes her feel as though they're being led slowly into the hills, down and away from sunlight.
After this section, they emerge into a building with a two-story high fiberglass scene of a death struggle between a giant octopus and a whale, with two tiers of railings above and some benches at its base in case you want to sit and contemplate shitty lawn art of the gods. Some kid comes in and feeds a couple of tokens in the music machine there, and it starts playing a version of that old Beatles song about the octopus.
Faith nudges Dean. "Nothin' says 'titanic struggle to the death' like a zippy little tune."
He shakes his head and laughs. "Sammy, I think this place just got officially more tacky and weird than that mystery spot down in Broward."
Sam's grin shuts off like somebody hit a kill switch, his mouth going all narrow and tight like it does. "Yeah," he says, and walks away, heading up one of the ramps that leads around and beyond the whale and octopus. Faith shoots a look at Dean, who watches after him, a muscle pulsing at his jaw. He shakes his head tightly as if he's disgusted with himself, then looks at Faith and says, "Let's go."
Faith just racks it up as another of those Winchester stories she'll never know in full, if at all.
The next thing they come to is a pizza joint, which looks to be the closest thing to a food court this place has. Castiel seems very intent on peering through the window at the menu board, while Bobby and Sam are just waiting, separate.
"Don't tell me you're burning to try pizza while you're human," Faith says.
"There is nothing remotely peaceful about this place," he says. "It's like receiving a completely unfiltered view into humanity's most random thoughts."
"It's not just you," Faith says.
"Let's achieve our purpose as quickly as possible so we can leave this place."
Doesn't sound like a half-bad plan to her.
***
Faith can't imagine how anyone could fail to be fucking sick of this place by the fucking Music of YesterfuckingYear, but it's not even that far into the second tour of three included on their ultimate tour tickets. A grimness settles over their little band as they trudge past the music machines that range all the way up to room-sized. Luckily, some don't play and the rest run on tokens. She's damn grateful it's the off-season, and there isn't all that much caterwauling.
She peers in at a couple of rooms where music is playing; one is a fancy drawing room with instruments on each elegant chair. They seem to play themselves, and the keys and bows of the woodwinds and the stringed instruments move on their own.
The other room is dark and red, with so much animatronic shit moving around on the wall facing a carpeted bench that she can't even take it all in. It makes her think of what Disney World -- or how she imagines Disney World -- would be like if it opened a theme park in hell. The central figure in all this movement is something that looks like an old movie version of what they used to call a nefarious Oriental villain, back when they were always played by white guys in bad makeup. This one has the whole Chinese robe and skull cap and long mustaches thing going. There are golden figures with fans and all kinds of other shit and the music is fucking loud. Faith finds herself about to make the Disney World joke to Dean, who has trailed in behind her, but she realizes in time that it's probably not the best idea she's had. She touches his elbow and slips out the door, rejoining the others -- or Sam and Bobby, at any rate.
"Where's Castiel?"
"He wanted to keep moving," Bobby says.
"Dammit," Faith mutters. She charges on after him without waiting for the others, through the aviation hall, walking into a wave of uneasiness as she approaches yet more loud, nightmarishly happy music. The next section opens up on a huge carousel, the source of the garish music. It's huge and loud and lit up like Christmas in Vegas, and she supposes she's intended to feel a dozen kinds of childlike wonder but she just finds it creepy as everything else.
"Whoa," Dean says as he hauls up short beside her. "Check that out."
She follows his gaze upward and sees a whole flock of department store dummies with wings hanging over the carousel. Some are naked, some are wearing negligees, but even those who are covered have some slippage so at least one conelike breast is hanging out.
It looks like the sort of shit she'd see in a slayer dream, and it fills her with the same sense of dread.
"That's just creepy," Dean says. "On the whole, having Uriel give me the pre-smiting ceremonial fuck-you glare is less disturbing than this shit."
Faith just resumes moving, heading for the next section. She stops dead when she gets beyond the entrance, unable to make anything of what's before her. Unable even to think of a way to describe it, if only to herself.
It's a huge room, criss-crossed with arching ramps and catwalks weaving through and above outcroppings of ... stuff. A crazy clashing assortment of shit, huge copper boilers, pieces of big pipe organs, massive parts of ships -- she doesn't know what all. How the fuck she's supposed to find Castiel in all this is beyond her. She thinks about yelling out his name, but there doesn't seem much of a point. There's organ music playing so loud she can barely think, which doesn't surprise her in the slightest. Looking around for some clue which way to go to get some kind of vantage point, she catches sight of some movement above.
A blur of tan.
She does shout his name, but it's swallowed by the noise and the hugeness of this space.
Faith heads for one of the ramps that winds up into the higher reaches of the dimly-lit room.
She catches another flash of tan, far ahead, moving away like a mirage in the desert.
"Castiel!"
She sees an answering movement alongside, black, but substantial, as if angels cast solid shadows. She loses sight of them behind another projection of welded-together salvage.
Tan and black moving shoulder to shoulder.
Why does she feel more unsettled thinking he's with Uriel than believing he's alone?
She hurries along the catwalk, reaching for her knife and doing something she supposes might be praying.
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.
Spoilers through SPN 4.10 "Heaven and Hell," incorporates world-building details revealed since.
Previous parts are here.
Faith gazes down at the tops of the skeletal trees below her feet, the blood roaring in her ears, her heart jackhammering. She's not sure if these reactions stem from the dizzying sense of height or the electricity of Castiel's touch. It's nothing like the sexual buzz of the moment when he'd stuffed the snow down her collar. It's more like an elemental force, like nothing she's felt before from him.
She immediately revises that thought as a deep, cellular memory kicks in. She recalls the being who gathered her broken, lifeless body and shifted its molecules until she was whole again, though she doesn't understand how she could possibly remember this.
Her head snapping up, Faith looks at Castiel in surprise and finds her expression mirrored in his. She feels things rearranging within her again, and she's not sure if she's dying or being reborn. "You'd think I'd know," she hears herself say out loud.
Suddenly the current shuts off as if he's tugged his hand from her grasp, although he hasn't. Castiel stumbles backward against the framework holding the glass panes.
Faith nearly screams, half expecting him to fall through, tumbling into the bare branches below. But he catches himself as Sam is in mid-stride toward him, arm extended to help. Faith doesn't even realize she's staggered herself until Dean has circled her waist with an arm, steadying her.
"The hell was that?" Bobby says.
"I'm not sure," Castiel says.
"It was the real you," Faith says. "I remember. From when I was dead."
"What?" Bobby blurts.
Before anyone can enlighten him, or even figure out how a remotely plausible way to do so, a couple of shrieking rugrats come thundering into the narrow space, making the ground shudder beneath her feet.
Faith's knees wobble. "Get me offa this!"
Dean shifts his arm around her shoulders, steering her back to secure land. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Little disoriented."
"Whatd'you mean, when you were dead?" Bobby demands.
Just then the parents of the hellspawn trundle into the area, taking in their group with undisguised curiosity.
Castiel tears himself away from one last look out the glass walls and joins them. "She fell in battle," he says quietly. "I was sent to raise her, as I did Dean."
"What about you?" Faith asks. "Do you feel any stronger? Any weaker?"
"I felt something flow between us, but it was interrupted," he says. "I feel no better or worse now that it's gone."
"What stopped it?"
Castiel shakes his head. "I can't say."
"What caused it in the first place?" Dean asks.
"I'm not sure," Castiel says again. "Perhaps the power of this place. Perhaps the sensations of being suspended over this valley, the familiarity of it."
"This isn't helping us find the seal, though," Dean states. "We've got a helluva lot of ground to cover."
***
The weird just keeps on coming. Different types of weird, in waves.
After they pass through the house itself, there's a crazy quilt of sheds and buildings linked together that houses the displays and collections. Faith's not sure if it's the place itself or the strange experience she just shared with Castiel, but this series of rooms reminds her of times when she was sick as a kid, with fevers that carried her from one bizarre dream to another.
There's a section that's meant to recreate an old-time main street, which almost seems normal enough, except the brick street and its storefronts and windows are lit by a string of light bulbs instead of any kind of natural light, giving the scene a pervasive sense of dark. The slight downward slope of the floor makes her feel as though they're being led slowly into the hills, down and away from sunlight.
After this section, they emerge into a building with a two-story high fiberglass scene of a death struggle between a giant octopus and a whale, with two tiers of railings above and some benches at its base in case you want to sit and contemplate shitty lawn art of the gods. Some kid comes in and feeds a couple of tokens in the music machine there, and it starts playing a version of that old Beatles song about the octopus.
Faith nudges Dean. "Nothin' says 'titanic struggle to the death' like a zippy little tune."
He shakes his head and laughs. "Sammy, I think this place just got officially more tacky and weird than that mystery spot down in Broward."
Sam's grin shuts off like somebody hit a kill switch, his mouth going all narrow and tight like it does. "Yeah," he says, and walks away, heading up one of the ramps that leads around and beyond the whale and octopus. Faith shoots a look at Dean, who watches after him, a muscle pulsing at his jaw. He shakes his head tightly as if he's disgusted with himself, then looks at Faith and says, "Let's go."
Faith just racks it up as another of those Winchester stories she'll never know in full, if at all.
The next thing they come to is a pizza joint, which looks to be the closest thing to a food court this place has. Castiel seems very intent on peering through the window at the menu board, while Bobby and Sam are just waiting, separate.
"Don't tell me you're burning to try pizza while you're human," Faith says.
"There is nothing remotely peaceful about this place," he says. "It's like receiving a completely unfiltered view into humanity's most random thoughts."
"It's not just you," Faith says.
"Let's achieve our purpose as quickly as possible so we can leave this place."
Doesn't sound like a half-bad plan to her.
***
Faith can't imagine how anyone could fail to be fucking sick of this place by the fucking Music of YesterfuckingYear, but it's not even that far into the second tour of three included on their ultimate tour tickets. A grimness settles over their little band as they trudge past the music machines that range all the way up to room-sized. Luckily, some don't play and the rest run on tokens. She's damn grateful it's the off-season, and there isn't all that much caterwauling.
She peers in at a couple of rooms where music is playing; one is a fancy drawing room with instruments on each elegant chair. They seem to play themselves, and the keys and bows of the woodwinds and the stringed instruments move on their own.
The other room is dark and red, with so much animatronic shit moving around on the wall facing a carpeted bench that she can't even take it all in. It makes her think of what Disney World -- or how she imagines Disney World -- would be like if it opened a theme park in hell. The central figure in all this movement is something that looks like an old movie version of what they used to call a nefarious Oriental villain, back when they were always played by white guys in bad makeup. This one has the whole Chinese robe and skull cap and long mustaches thing going. There are golden figures with fans and all kinds of other shit and the music is fucking loud. Faith finds herself about to make the Disney World joke to Dean, who has trailed in behind her, but she realizes in time that it's probably not the best idea she's had. She touches his elbow and slips out the door, rejoining the others -- or Sam and Bobby, at any rate.
"Where's Castiel?"
"He wanted to keep moving," Bobby says.
"Dammit," Faith mutters. She charges on after him without waiting for the others, through the aviation hall, walking into a wave of uneasiness as she approaches yet more loud, nightmarishly happy music. The next section opens up on a huge carousel, the source of the garish music. It's huge and loud and lit up like Christmas in Vegas, and she supposes she's intended to feel a dozen kinds of childlike wonder but she just finds it creepy as everything else.
"Whoa," Dean says as he hauls up short beside her. "Check that out."
She follows his gaze upward and sees a whole flock of department store dummies with wings hanging over the carousel. Some are naked, some are wearing negligees, but even those who are covered have some slippage so at least one conelike breast is hanging out.
It looks like the sort of shit she'd see in a slayer dream, and it fills her with the same sense of dread.
"That's just creepy," Dean says. "On the whole, having Uriel give me the pre-smiting ceremonial fuck-you glare is less disturbing than this shit."
Faith just resumes moving, heading for the next section. She stops dead when she gets beyond the entrance, unable to make anything of what's before her. Unable even to think of a way to describe it, if only to herself.
It's a huge room, criss-crossed with arching ramps and catwalks weaving through and above outcroppings of ... stuff. A crazy clashing assortment of shit, huge copper boilers, pieces of big pipe organs, massive parts of ships -- she doesn't know what all. How the fuck she's supposed to find Castiel in all this is beyond her. She thinks about yelling out his name, but there doesn't seem much of a point. There's organ music playing so loud she can barely think, which doesn't surprise her in the slightest. Looking around for some clue which way to go to get some kind of vantage point, she catches sight of some movement above.
A blur of tan.
She does shout his name, but it's swallowed by the noise and the hugeness of this space.
Faith heads for one of the ramps that winds up into the higher reaches of the dimly-lit room.
She catches another flash of tan, far ahead, moving away like a mirage in the desert.
"Castiel!"
She sees an answering movement alongside, black, but substantial, as if angels cast solid shadows. She loses sight of them behind another projection of welded-together salvage.
Tan and black moving shoulder to shoulder.
Why does she feel more unsettled thinking he's with Uriel than believing he's alone?
She hurries along the catwalk, reaching for her knife and doing something she supposes might be praying.