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On the beach [Nov. 1st, 2008|09:53 am]

Title: On the beach
Author: Kiwikatipo

Fandoms: Sarah Connor Chronicles/10 things I hate about you
Rating: Gen,
Warnings: All of TSCC,
Summary: Jessie owed everything to her American foster mother but she owed humanity more.
Disclaimer: This story is intended for entertainment purposes only and provides absolutely no financial compensation. Recognizable characters belong to their prospective owners/writers.

ooo000ooo

The sun shone on Malibu beach and one lone young woman sat on a hotel towel on the sand. Australians always had a love affair going on with the sea.

She was a long way from home in all senses and watching a mother cluck over her kids nearby - reminding them to cover up in the sun, made Jesse remember her own pre-Judgement Day childhood.

The day the new next door neighbours moved in back in 2007, Jesse had watched the proceedings from the shaded comfort of her parents’ veranda.

“Are you spying on the new neighbours?” Jesse’s mum grinned down at her little daughter as she hung clothes to dry on an airing rack.

“No,” Jessie pretended to be more interested than ever in sorting through her Hama beads as she knelt on the tiles.

“Yeah, pull the other one it’s got bells on.” Jesse’s mum snorted. “I like their lounge suite.”

The new peoples furniture was all shiny and polished and seemed to be being delivered from different furniture stores.

“I’m dropping off a Caesar salad for them later, who the hell wants to cook a meal after you’ve shifted house?” Jesse’s mum shuddered at the thought. “Want to come with me?”

“Yeah,” Jesse had noticed box after box of books being carried into the wooden federation villa next door, and hoped against hope there might be a book amongst that big collection she might like.

So at four o’clock she had walked up to the new people’s front door with her mother, Jesse was carefully holding a tray of scones covered with a tea towel. Her mum was probably one of the last women in Perth in her thirties that still made scones by hand.

“Oh wow, thank you so much, that is just so nice of you both.” Kat Stratford had long light brown hair and spoke like all of Jesse’s favourite characters on the Cartoon Network channel, because Kat came from a state called Washington in America.

Patrick who lived with Kat had an Australian mum just like Jesse, but his dad was an Italian American, whereas Jesse’s dad was from the Philippines.

“He’s in Manila now visiting family,” Jesse’s mum explained, sitting on a leather couch and accepting a glass of wine from Patrick. “Jesse and I can hardly wait until he comes back next week, yeah, Jess?”

Jesse sat beside her mother like a limpet and nodded slightly, strangers made her feel shy.

“And what would you like to drink, honey?” Kat smiled at Jesse with perfect white teeth, “Orange juice? Milk?”

“Crikey, what a pleasant change to have someone not offer Coke.” Jesse’s mum approved.

“My dad is a baby doctor, big on healthy teeth and bones.” Kat explained.

Kat was going to be lecturer at the University of Western Australia.

“Kat’s gonna teach adults all about some dead Pommy guy called Shakespeare,” Patrick clarified to puzzled Jesse, “I’m going to open a paintball centre, every played paint ball?”

And that was how Jesse got to know Kat and Patrick. Katpat - Jesse’s mum and dad used to jokingly refer to the young couple as. Jesse’s dad got on well with Patrick but not Kat much – ball-breaking bloody feminist.

Jesse’s mum and Kat became very friendly, once they even went away on a shopping holiday to Sydney with a group of women they both knew.

And for four more years everything was beaut. Jesse was the best tennis player in her primary school. For the Easter Holidays in April 2011 Jesse was sent to a week long tennis camp, and her mum and dad took off to Beijing for something to do with her dad’s work while Jesse was away.

The world ended while Jesse was at tennis camp.

Except it didn’t really end of course, it changed.

Her parents had to be dead, her father’s family in Manila were possibly all dead and her mother’s family in Brisbane were on the other side of the continent from Jesse.

“We thought you’d better come live with us until your mom’s family manages to work out a way to send for you. The government’s grounded all flights at the moment, we might be able to get you to your grandparents by train.” Kat suggested after she and Patrick came to pick up a terrified Jesse from her camp. “It’s hard to find out what’s going on anywhere right now.” Kat’s eyes were red and bloodshot from crying. “I guess you’re lucky that you know your mom’s family’s alive, Pat and I can’t get through to our folks in Washington.”

Completely numb from the concept she was now an orphan, Jesse nodded her head to show she could hear what Kat was saying, Jesse found it difficult to digest all the new information coming her way.

High school lasted for two years for Jesse and she never did end up going to Brisbane. Two years in her local high school in which the normal curriculum of art, poetry and Australian history was thrown out the window in favour of horticulture, military training and first aid drilling. Algebra and geometry being bored into her brain by shadow eyed adults who like their students grew thinner and thinner with each month as rationed food supplies ran lower and lower throughout Australia.

The English department at Kat’s university was closed down almost immediately as being unnecessary. Patrick’s paintball range located near the river was commandeered to use to grow crops which failed year after year due to insect plagues and the low sunlight.

“On the bright side, there's zero need to apply sun screen which was a pain in the butt to remember.” Patrick would point out cheerfully over the dinner table. 

Swiping bread to mop up the last of the watery gravy on his plate, Patrick caught sight of Jesse's cheek.“That’s a hell of a bruise on your face, Jess.”

“Hand to hand combat class.” Jesse gave her plate to the dog to lick. “I tripped in the changing room because a light bulb blew.”

“Don’t do that, Jesse,” Kat frowned at her foster daughter treating the dog in disapproval, “gross.”

“Hey Kat, this dog is valuable yeah?” Jesse protested back immediately, “He helps guard the garden against birds.”

“We could kill him, stuff him and use him as a scarecrow.” Kat suggested instead.

“Don’t you listen to her, Pavlova.” Jesse stroked the corgi with affection.

“Now you’re touching the dog with your hands while you’re eating!” Kat scolded.

“She's finished eating, Kat. You sound like your old man sometimes.” Patrick grinned at his partner with mischief in his eyes.

“Well it’s not like we have any fucking soap this week.” Kat snapped at him refusing to be amused.

“Yeah, we do.” Patrick announced smugly.

Kat’s mouth dropped open in fury. “God, Patrick, don’t tell me you’ve bought on the fricking black market. You know they shoot black marketers.”

Patrick smirked, “Okay I won’t.”

The corgi backed away from the table and Jesse followed it, Kat and Patrick were about to have a humdinger of a fight again.

But it never mattered when Kat and Patrick fought because they always made up.

Christ, the things Kat and Patrick used to fight about, like the time Kat invited the whole of the stranded crew of a French nuclear submarine to their place for a combined 4th of July and Bastille Day party in 2014, and the incident where Patrick clubbed to death a foraging kangaroo in the back yard and got blood on the washing Kat had hung out on the rusting Hills hoist clothesline.

It was what Jesse wanted to find, someone who would always love you no matter what, and with Kat and Patrick as her guardians Jesse never had bad experiences with boys while she was a teenager. A protective Patrick loved to intimidate any unfortunate boyfriends Jesse brought home, because he was an incredible tease. Kat always taught Jesse to never let herself get used by a guy.

They had loved Jesse and treated her like the child they never were able to have. One of the last big fights Kat and Patrick had was over Jesse leaving high school early to train in the Royal Australian Navy officer cadet program.

It was Patrick who didn’t want Jesse to risk dying sooner than she needed to in order to defeat the cyborgs trying to take over the globe. Pacifist Kat had been completely in favour of Jesse’s decision.

Growing up in Perth had been paradise, a shabby underfed paradise with limited medical supplies, but bloody paradise compared to every city in the Northern Hemisphere nonetheless.

So that Jessie was prepared to pimp a sixteen year old orphan to get a teen John Connor away from the corrupting influence of the metal thing that kept him constant company - Kat wouldn’t approve at all, she'd be disgusted in her. Her mum would have been horrified.

But they were both long dead, her mum right at the start of it all, hopefully she died shopping in some huge Beijing market, Jesse’s mum had loved shopping, and Kat died five years ago from influenza.

Derek would understand except she couldn’t tell him. He was an ally but he wasn’t an Australian and he wasn’t a member of her armed forces, he wasn’t privy to her instructions coming direct from Canberra, it was war after all and all was fair in love and war.

Maybe if Judgement Day had never happened there would be a different Jesse and Derek who met in Los Angeles in 2027 because Jesse was doing some business trip there like her dad used to, or Derek would have come to Perth... actually Jesse couldn’t think of a single reason why Derek would ever have come to Perth.

The shell shocked Riley was just a street kid not a professional call girl, Riley might not be able to cut it, Jesse was expecting a hell of a lot from her.

Sometimes Kat used to quote lines from Shakespeare to Jesse, as they spent endless hours tending the plants in their back garden so they would all be a little bit less hungry, and Jesse remembered most of them.

No one quote seemed relevant to Jesse right now, all that kept coming to her mind was a line from the national anthem.

In history’s page let every stage advance Australia fair.

The heat from the sand must be sending her troppo, so Jesse stood up and prepared to bathe in the cold Pacific Ocean.

As she swam using the over arm stroke invented by Australians at the beginning of the twentieth century, Jesse relaxed.

She had thought of a reason why Derek might have come to Perth in 2027 - Olympics could have been held there, Derek liked sport.

And Jesse had told the whinging Riley she didn't need to go down on John or anything - a hand job would be fine, so truly, Jesse's conscience was now clear.

ooo000ooo

 

Authors Note: "Jesse's evil, Jesse's working for the cyborgs", nah, Jessie is an Aussie with her own agenda which might not tie in with the adult John Connor's. It might be, shock horror - superior.

 James Cameron saw that the Southern Hemisphere countries would be in a much better position to resist the terminators after a nuclear holocaust. It wasn't written into the films as it was felt this would not go down well with American audiences.

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(no subject) [Aug. 4th, 2008|08:09 pm]
If there are one or more people on your friends list who make your world a better place just because they exist, and who you would not have met (in real life or not) without the Internet, then post this same sentence in your journal.
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SS2: What a wicked game you play to make me feel this way [Jan. 6th, 2008|11:34 am]

Title:Soulmate Surviving
Author:Kiwikatipo
Rating:F18 NC-17
Genre: Romance
Spoilers: Buffy comics, Season 1 and 2
Warnings: Coarse Language
Disclaimer: I did not invent Sam and Faith, Kripke and Whedon did, all hail. Annabel and company were created by Stephen Carpenter and are borrowed from the movie Soul Survivors.

 

Boston, January, 2006,

 

For a girl who just broke up with her boyfriend she seemed completely emotionally unscathed.

 

It took the time spent to drain a highball for Sam to suddenly worry that Annabel who now went by the moniker ‘Faith’ might be on to them.

 

One minute she’d been sleazing all over Dean and the next moment she leaned against him, her body lean and supple. Her breasts contained against the laws of physics in a low cut reddish silky top, were soft and squishing pleasantly against his sweater clad arm.

 

He towered over her, she wasn’t a perfect fit like Jess and she smelled of cigarettes - yuck.

 

Blonde, kind, sweet, fun-loving Jessica couldn’t be replaced and Sam didn’t want to replace her.

 

“Sam-the-man,” Faith’s eyes were hooded, brown and staring up at him invitingly. “Why don’t you and Deano both come back to my place?”

 

“Little early for coffee isn’t it?” Sam shifted his body so Faith no longer touched him. It made sense if she turned out to be a demon because physically the woman disturbed the hell out of him.

 

He kept imagining taking Faith hard and fast in the bar’s restroom which could make her a succubus or something else unnatural that dropped their G’s and made grieving guys horny.

 

“Who said anything about coffee?” Faith’s tone promised decadent delights and held a slightly lowered inflection which implied he lacked gray matter.

 

Therefore Sam wasn’t fooled by her sensuous implication; she didn’t seem dumb enough or wasted enough to expect that he and Dean (being, hello, brothers) would want to screw the same woman at the same time.

 

Which meant Faith wanted Sam and Dean to leave the bar with her so she could murder them. Maybe as part of her monster modus operandi she’d need to copulate with them first before she tried to kill them?

 

God-damnit, now he was picturing himself screwing her again. He glowered at her.

 

“Sorry, sweetness but he’ll have to take a rain check. Sammy here has an interview at Harvard tomorrow like we said, needs to be all early bird catches a worm, can you handle just me?” Dean could always be counted on to come across as a randy hound dog convincingly – method acting on his part. Sam noted Dean even had his arm draped around Faith’s bare shoulders as he spoke, tracing invisible circles with his thumb on her skin. Her shoulders were smooth, flawless.

 

Sam hoped Dean washed his hands afterwards, because the chick was clearly an unclean entity. Sam identified as being a liberal who loved women, yet the words ‘jezebel’ and ‘harlot’ kept coming to the fore in his mind when he conversed with Faith, which either must make him some archaic dick or Faith evil. Jess was sexy, sure, but Jess never wore pants so tight they might as well be spray painted on. ‘Slut’ - at least that word kept a timeless quality of abuse throughout the centuries.

 

“His loss,” she frowned at Sam, with a scrunched forehead for a second before shrugging to show she didn’t give a shit.

 

“Yeah, it is,” Dean sighed dramatically then cheered up in an instant, “but all my gain. Let’s blow this joint, huh?”

 

Standing still as he finished his beer Sam watched Faith led Dean out of the bar area, into the hat and coat check-in area, up the flight of stairs that led from the basement club to the street and out of view.

 

One, two, three, Sam slowly counted to sixty, before beginning to trail his brother and their potentially demonic prey.

 

Paying their tab, leaving the bar, collecting his coat, going up the stairs, walking slowly behind Faith and Dean on the sidewalk, staying out of sight - Sam carried out all of these tasks faithfully. He was a giant! Dean should really be doing this stalker gig, not Sam. 
 

The icy sidewalk made the ground slippery under foot. Sam’s boots were fitted with a good tread on the soles, he didn’t know how else to account for Faith being able to remain upright with the height of her stiletto boot heels without her being not of this world. Or she was holding onto Dean for dear life if human.

 

A wino asked Sam for spare change and held him up for a few minutes, when the old man decided to get nasty over Sam’s kindly refusal to enable his alcohol dependency further and then nosy passer-bys decided to get involved. Where was big city indifference when you needed it?

 

A quick scramble up a series of fire escape ladders thirty minutes later saw Sam perching on Faith’s fire escape landing outside her window. The loft apartment Faith rented wasn’t as big a dump inside as it looked from the outside.

 

Her apartment’s view wasn’t anything to write home about - overlooking a back alley as it did, but the fact it was hidden from public view was useful for Sam and Dean’s exorcism intentions. The Winchesters had scouted ahead earlier yesterday while Faith visited her local library. Weird, he never would have picked Faith to be a big reader, but according to her gossipy building concierge, Faith hung out at her local library a lot.

 

Did demons take on the persona of the person they possessed? There was so much about the supernatural world that Sam should know about but didn’t because of his resentment towards his father preventing an acquisition of knowledge ... Crap, it was frigging freezing out here. Determined footsteps coming towards the window brought Sam back from his bitter trip down memory lane.

 

The window beside him slid up with an abrupt squawk of abused wooden grooves.

 

“Sam-baby, do you wanna come inside and join yah brother gettin' the snot kicked out of him in the warmth or do you get off on freezin' ya balls outside while you perve?” Faith wanted to know as she jutted her head outside. Her hair was slightly mussed as if she possibly had been in a fight or making out. “He’d ask you inside himself, but he’s all tied up.”

 

Instantly Sam saw visions of a trussed and gagged Dean being tortured by a demon Faith, or a silken rope restrained, naked Dean being pleasured a human, naked Faith. Honest to God, Sam didn’t know which image-flash was more stomach turning.

 

“It’s cool, dude, she isn’t a demon.” Dean’s voice could be heard calling from inside. “She might be psycho, but she isn’t a demon.”

 

“Fuck you, pal.” Faith uttered the remark lightly to Dean but Sam recognized the remark hurt her for some reason.

 

Putting his large feet first, Sam jimmied himself through the window.

 

A large wet patch on Dean’s jeans that he was dabbing at with a dish cloth in the kitchen area explained the tied up remark and a bruised cheek the beaten up comment.

 

“She threw holy water on me, when I was trying to see if she had a reaction to silver.” Dean explained to Sam casually.

 

“Right,” Sam nodded and waited for further explanation.

 

Holding her hair back so it didn’t catch alight, Faith lit a cigarette on the back stove.

 

“She’s not a ghost either, Faith here’s a fellow hunter.” Dean smirked at his own short sightedness. “The clues were in front of us. The way she wears a silver cross all the time.”

 

“I knew there was more than one reason you were checkin' out my tits. Congratulations,” Faith blew her cigarette smoke upwards impatiently. “You’ve worked out you were retarded, now take a hike.”

 

A pout of panic marred Dean’s charm filled explanation for a second. “Hey, where’s the love? I apologized for pulling a knife.”

 

“Then why does she look like Annabel Lehane from Salem?” Sam gave a snort of irritation. His fingers itched to whip the Book of Common Prayer out of his pocket and start reading the part dealing with exorcism.

 

“I’m Annie’s cousin,” Faith stared at Sam with her body rigid for prepared confrontation.

 

“That’s convenient, long lost I suppose?” Sam stared at her back, the hell if he was going to give up the idea Faith was a demon without a struggle.

 

“Yeah, she has the docs and everything, Sam.” Dean enthused, indicating a pile of official looking letters lying on Faith’s kitchen bench, “completely legit.”

 

“What happened to your brain, Dean? Why am I asking that? She could have forged these documents - or enchanted them.” Sam went to pick the papers up. He noticed they were headed up from a firm he felt he should recognize the name of but didn’t. Immediately Faith stood in front of him.

 

She didn’t need to get right in his face to radiate intimidation.  “Hey, leave my 'enchanted' shit alone and leave with big bro, I’m not a demon, I’m not a ghost, I’m not a fuckin’ vamp, so piss off.”

 

“Vampires are probably extinct.” Dean pronounced with authority.

 

“That explains ….” An expression of illumination crossed her face.

 

Sam dropped the papers back on her kitchen bench. Why did Faith have legal documents in her kitchen and why was Dean totally convinced she was human?

 

A few quick strides took Faith over to her front door which proceeded to be swung forcefully open by her.

 

To avoid the bruises that would be coming their way if they lingered, Dean and Sam departed with dignity.

 

“I thought I was in there, once we cleared up our little mutual misunderstanding.” Dean elaborated further to Sam as the two brothers descended the flight of stairs leading to the building's entrance. “But she said she didn’t like being played. Seeing she was playing us too, it kinda proves the illogicalness of the female mind. She was more into you than me, anyways, dude, which shows she’s kinda nuts to begin with.”

 

“No, she wasn’t.” Sam quickened his pace and tried to avoid analyzing if that was why Faith repelled him so much.

 

Jessica and Faith were complete opposites in everyway. So if someone like Faith got all wet for him, what did that make Sam Winchester nowadays?

 

 

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Soulmate surviving - 1 Wicked Game [Jan. 5th, 2008|04:33 pm]
[Tags|, , , ]

Title:Soulmate Surviving
Author:Kiwikatipo
Rating:F18 NC-17
Genre: Romance
Spoilers:Buffy comics, Season 1 and 2
Warnings: Coarse Language
Disclaimer: I did not invent Sam and Faith, Kripke and Whedon did, all hail. Annabel and company were created by Stephen Carpenter and are borrowed from the movie Soul Survivors.


Gary, Indiana, January, 2006

In a bustling café, two men in their twenties sat opposite one another drinking their java. With a customary loom Sam rose to place his laptop in front of his shorter but better looking brother.

“Still getting e-mails from your college buddies? Salem, Massachusetts.” Dean shot Sam a quirk of an eyebrow and a smirk of the lips. “Witches gone wild?”

“It looks like a skin walker, ghost or demonic possession. It’s odd, weird and freaky so that’s us.” Sam was falling back into hunting like a duck to water - as if college and normalcy were a distant dream, brought back into his consciousness by blasts from the past like this letter from Sean Wilberforce, a lab tutor from Sanford.

Meg, the girl Sam met on his aborted trip to California caused a disruption in his revenge driven return to the hunting life.

Thank God Sam did turn back from trying to find Dad, or else Dean would be dead by now.

“Odd weird and freaky - that’s you, dude, not me. The case? Yeah, sounds right up our alley,” Dean’s face broke into a lecherous smile, “And we should check up on Emily Jorgeson in Boston, see if she’s recovered yet from nearly being sacrificed to a pagan god by her folks.”

“It’s only been two days, she’s not you, I’d say she wouldn’t be over it.” Sam wasn’t over Jess, half a year could pass and you could still hurt every day with grief.

“She might need to talk about it to someone who understands, might need a shoulder to cry on.” Lust was one of the seven deadly sins that Dean most frequently indulged in.

Solo gratification was all Sam could deal with right now, anything else would feel like the final nail in Jessica’s coffin.

Salem, Massachusetts, January, 2006

The ethereal blonde who greeted Dean and Sam at her front door caused Dean’s flirtatious charm to kick into high gear. He managed to con a sandwich out of her straight away.

The blonde, a swimming instructor for disabled children was called Cassie Winters, she used to date Sean when they were both attending high school in Salem.

“Sean and I broke up three years ago, he was in California, I was in Mass, it was too hard once he was in college. I dropped out of college…” Cassie passed Dean the sandwich she fixed for him in her family’s kitchen. “Enough mayo?”

“Awesome,” A thumbs up signal was given by Dean to reinforce that mouthful statement.

“But we’ll always be friends; he saved my life, even if he does shoot off his mouth about me to his co-workers these days.” Using her hands and strong swimmer's arms Cassie swung herself up to sit on the kitchen island. “Crap, this is going to sound insane. Sean’s lab assistant said you helped her brother in Florida? But I don’t know how you can help me, I mean it’s not like I’m being haunted… I saw a ghost I think… But she couldn’t be a ghost and if she is I think she might be worse than a ghost because I think she went to Hell...”

“Start from the beginning,” Sam advised the stressed woman.

“The very beginning?” Cassie put her head in her hands and trembled. “It sounds nuts. Okay, in my freshman year of high school I met this new transfer - Annabel Lehane who'd moved with her family from Boston to Salem. We were both in the swim team, we hung out together all the time, painting each other’s toenails, sleeping over at each others house, tying up the phone lines when we were apart and generally driving our parents crazy. The whole teenage gal pal hog.”

Sam and Dean politely waited as Cassie paused for breath.

“So anyway, in sophomore year her mom passed - car accident. Annabel’s mom drank and drove once too often. Ironic, I should have learned huh?” Cassie’s hands shook. “Annabel went kind of crazy afterwards, did dumb teen-cry-for-help stunts - shoplifting, sleeping around, dropped out of swim team, would have dropped out of school if me and her dad hadn’t persuaded her not to. But I stuck by her. And this dark place Annabel went to, she clawed her way back out of it. And in senior year our lives were so on track, hell, we knew everything, we were fricking perfect little princesses on prom night. See that collection of photographs hanging on the wall? Bottom left.”

Four two-dimensional fading teenagers in formal attire beamed self consciously at the camera Cassie’s dad held back in 1999. One blonde and one brunette wearing similar clinging black dresses, two tuxedo clad guys with their arms around their best girls’ waists and a dab of zit cover-up on their chins. Smiles frozen in time, forever young, forever in love.

The girls’ prom gowns were cut low. Cassie and Annabel were bangable little babes back then, weren’t they just? Sam blinked, his heart and groin were in the grave, he refocused back on Cassie’s words.

“That’s me and Sean, Annabel and Matt. I used to date Matt before Sean. Annabel always wanted him. Matt was a great guy, won a scholarship to Harvard. I murdered him and I murdered Annabel when they were both only eighteen.” Cassie grabbed a tissue out of a box beside the fruit bowl. She dragged the tissue across her eyes with a violent jerk.

Feeling confident that Cassie would elaborate on that last statement Sam made a soothing murmur from the back of his throat.

An expression of compassionate concern played over Dean’s features, Sam noticed him eye up the fruit bowl appraisingly at the same time.

“It was the week Annabel and I started Middleton College in Illinois.” Cassie sped up her words so fast she verged on gabbling. “We were so excited we both got accepted to the same college. Sean and Matt’s colleges started the week after ours did. They were spending the night with us after driving us to Middleton. We all went to a freshers’ party at a Sorority house and it sucked, Annabel found out about a rave being held in an abandoned church on the outskirts of town.”

Tears were running down Cassie’s face. “Annabel and I were dancing together all night - I kept having shots from this flask of vodka Matt brought along to the rave - it was hot inside. And when it came time to leave I made out with Matt in the car while Sean was inside the church looking for Annabel. Sean saw, he was pissed at me.

So… yeah, it was raining, I was driving back to college alongside the lake and trying to convince Sean me kissing Matt had been nothing, while at the same time attempting not to let Annabel in the back seat know what I did. And a car in front of us on the highway spun in the wet.” Cassie’s words were almost intelligible by this stage. “And because I wasn’t concentrating - because I’d been drinking and cheating on my boyfriend - I ploughed into it and pushed it and us over a bank into Lake Michigan and all three occupants of that other car died and so did Matt and Annabel.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam and Dean both said it together on the same beat. Jesus, imagine having that on your conscience.

It made perfect sense for Annabel to be an unquiet spirit.

“And you’ve seen the ghost of Annabel?” Dean was the picture of helpful non shocked understanding.

Slowly, Cassie nodded. “Yeah, and so did Annabel’s dad on Christmas Eve, we both did. That’s why I know I’m not crazy.”



Boston, Massachusetts, January 2006

Being reformed and all, Faith never meant to screw with her old man’s double’s mind.

Faith’s father died in an armed hold up of a liquor store gone wrong when Faith was five, and then everything in her young life truly went to shit.

Ma turned into a mega bitch, they moved out of their three bedroom house into a cheaper apartment in a scummier part of Southie than they lived in before. Ma started to hit both the bottle and Faith.

So a glimpse of the life her double led in Salem in this Earth dimension… what stinking luck that at the same time a squatting Faith brushed away the snow from Annabel Faith Lehane’s plaque in a Salem cemetery, to read what verse from the Good Book got chosen to sum up her life, Annabel’s father and her best friend arrived carrying white roses to lay down on Annabel’s grave on Christmas Eve morning.

Awkward.

How dumb of Faith to think that wearing shades would disguise her sufficiently during her tourist jaunt around Salem. Faith was dumb, she verged on being retarded.

Fortunately Faith’s boyfriend was waiting in his van for her so she could beat a hasty retreat leaving a stunned Cassie Winters and Colin Lehane in her wake.

As she walked down the stairs from her third floor apartment in the urban renewal area she grew up in, she deserved to live in shit surroundings - that was why she ended up back here wasn’t it? Faith resolved to dump Kenny again tonight, albeit less violently than she had at seventeen.

Being a guitarist instead of a drummer on this Earth and with an added seven years of maturity still did not alter the fact that although a gifted musician, a stud in bed and funny, Kenny was fundamentally a cheating asshole.

She wouldn’t go to California again, no, she always intended to go to the Caribbean and fight evil by night, she was a worthless piece of shit who had so much to make up for and laze on the beach by day. She didn’t deserve a normal life like Buffy, Vi and Kennedy intended to have once they made magic leave their world, because Faith gutted like a squealing pig…

“Hey, Jake,” Faith walked quickly up to the doorman at the bar Kenny was playing in tonight. “Left the navy, huh?”

“Sorry, do I know you?” Jake who popped Faith’s cherry in his parent’s bedroom one summer night at a party when she was fourteen and wasted, stared down at her puzzled.

Faith never lost her virginity to this world’s Jake. Fucking with her own head was the one thing she was good at. “No. Got you mixed with someone else.”

With a swish of her hips Faith headed towards the bar once she left her jacket and scarf with the hat check chick. What the hell made her come back to South Boston? It wasn’t like the Artic hellhole held pleasant memories for her. And that was because she…

“Who’s next?” The bartender dithered between Faith and an escaped NBA player standing in front of him at the bar.

It took two seconds for Faith to give NBA and the pallid bartender the automatic test she gave every male with a pulse and some vampires that didn’t. Would she boink NBA or the bartender if she got stranded with them on a desert island? Hell yeah to NBA, and probably the bartender if NBA got killed by a cocoanut falling out of a palm tree.

“The lady was first.” NBA must be an MIT hobbit slumming it. His eyes were kind and he looked sad not like he was going to start hitting on her.

She rewarded him with a sultry raise of her eyelashes. He could hit on her if he wanted, no problems

“A pitcher of beer,” she tossed a greenback in front of the bartender.

“Freezing evening, huh?” NBA was smiling across at her.

“Winter.” Faith rolled her eyes. Lame. Talking about the weather? Lame.

“Yeah, guess it is, but it’s still freezing.” NBA moved aside for the bartender to pass Faith her pitcher of beer.

Faith narrowed her eyes but not at NBA, she spotted Kenny approaching at two o’clock on her right.

“Hey, baby.” Kenny slid his hands around her waist and kissed her bare shoulder.

No violence, she was twenty-five not seventeen, she could do this.

“Hey Kenny,” Faith twirled around and dimpled up at him. “You know how you screwed yah room mate’s sister last Friday afternoon after I left your apartment?”

“I don’t know what trouble makin’ bitch lied to you, Faith.” Kenny glared at the tall guy standing beside them hanging onto every word spoken. “Hey, bud? Fuck off.”

NBA backed away with an apologetic hand gesture.

Tilting her chin up bullishly Faith turned her attentions back to Kenny. “Don’t bullshit me, Kenny, I’m quicker than that.” She twisted her mouth. “Real quick.”

The pitcher of beer was overturned on Kenny’s head with lightning speed. Oops. Déjà vu.

Seven years ago her world’s Kenny used amphetamines too much and backhanded Faith across the face when she pulled the same trick. She used her newly discovered slayer strength to break his arm.

Today Kenny clenched his fist, unclenched it and said. “I’m sorry, Faith. It wasn’t you - it was me.” He slunk off damply.

This world rocked even if Faith still hadn’t discovered where all the cool vampires hung out or even the geek ones.

There might be something supernaturally weird happening in Maine next week, who would guess Faith had been driven to studying fatality reports in newspapers to try and find evil to vanquish?

A passing guy nearly spilled a glass of water all over her, she dodged with nimble grace.

“Aiming to host your own little wet t-shirt competition?” Faith snapped with frustrated displacement of hurt. Kenny, Robin, it never worked because she wasn’t good enough for anyone. Slut, tramp, worthless whore.

The apologizing unco turned out to be NBA’s brother.

The Winchester brothers were both frigging hot.

She’d screw Dean the moment they swam ashore on her imaginary Gilligan’s Island. Judging from the flicker of movement on Dean’s brow he was running through a similar scenario with her.

Sam Winchester asked if he could buy her a drink.

Nothing like getting back on the saddle after being bucked from a horse, not that Faith would honestly know - she’d never even touched a horse in her whole mostly misspent and entirely urban or in prison life.

Should she be good or should she be bad? And with which brother?
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Title:Never the Brady Bunch [Jan. 3rd, 2008|12:02 am]
Author: Kiwikatipo
Rating: M (15 and above)
Warnings: One eff word
Disclaimer: Erik Kripe created John Winchester et al, James Cameron created Sarah Connor et al.





It’s strange how one word can take you back to a different place - a different time. For me it started when John and Cameron were watching an old rerun of M*A*S*H.

He was explaining what was funny to Cameron and what wasn’t. A boy and his robot hanging out, it gives me hope for the future that this thing - a killing machine - can happily watch anti-war sitcoms for hours on end without complaining. On the other hand maybe I should get another German shepherd as company for John - they’re a good breed.

A hot evening in July and I felt restless, unfulfilled. Having Kyle Reese’s bare-chested older brother sitting in my living room contributed to my disquiet.

The Reese males were buff as they used to say back in the eighties. I bit my knuckles in that way that sexually aroused human females have for centuries and tried to block my from my mind speculating on if Derek would also be hung like a horse like his kid bro.

Wiping sweat from my brow I told Derek Reese to put a shirt on - the nuclear holocaust hadn’t happened yet and we still lived in a world with standards (like I’m going to forget how he used my toothbrush in a hurry).

He told me to take a hike, the cotton would rub against his latest healing wounds and to buy a fricking state of the art air conditioning unit with a diamond.

I still had enough diamonds in my possession to outshine a beauty queen’s tiara but that wasn’t the point. I proceeded to tell Derek Reese that wasn’t the point when John pointedly turned up the volume on the television to drown me out.

Well, I wasn’t putting up with that crap even if John is the future savior of humanity (and maybe I was suffering from PMS a little) so I snatched the remote off him and pressed the off button.

“Jesus, Mom! I’m sorry, okay?” John grabbed it back from me and turned the TV back on.

The volume blared forth and Colonel Potter bellowed for his major. “Winchester!”

And I was back in 1991

**********************************************************************





“Winchester!” The mechanic was tall with ex-military bearing, and showing Sarah the room where she and little John would be sleeping if she accepted the housekeeping job. “When the drill sergeant yelled out my name like that during my training I almost peed my fatigues.”

Sarah grinned while she surveyed the small but neat room, “Yeah, never nice being shouted at.”

“My youngest kid, Sammy, hasn’t worked that one out yet, he can be a handful.” Winchester was looking Sarah up and down, taking in her neat blue jeans and pink sweatshirt, her muscular physique unusual for the time. “Don’t let him give you any crap.”

“I don’t put up with crap.” Sarah was indeed the young single mom she portrayed herself to be, looking for somewhere safe to stay while she sent John to elementary school in Wisconsin. Central America had become too hot for her in more ways than one and Enrique forged the nicest fake references for a resume.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Winchester seemed to admire the determination that shone from his potential housekeeper's eyes.

It was a long summer, a hot summer.

Devoted if emotionally stunted parents, Sarah Connor and John Winchester were both humorless fanatics, not that they let the other into their private deep dark secrets.

Both worked out tirelessly when they had a free moment and would secretly and separately hit the bottle in solitude angsting over their lost dead loves.

Inevitably being two healthy young lonely people they fell into bed together or more accurately screwed against a washing machine one night when Sarah was washing all three boys’ clothes.

The sex was hot, dirty and comforting.

The two solo parents had been getting on well.

Was this a good time to bring up time traveling cyborgs? Sarah wondered to herself. It could be a relationship dampener.

Being kissed hungrily by John made rational thought depart in a hurry from her gray cells.

Lovers that were new to each other, they boinked again, this time on top of the dryer - doggie style.

Her arm muscles were incredible, John Winchester could screw her as she hung from the overhead shelf if he wanted to try out another position.

Sarah's mouth opened to suggest this sexual proposition when John put a finger of hush to her swollen lips.

“Sarah,” John kissed her on the forehead. “I have to be straight with you about why I’m in Wisconsin this summer...”

****************************************************


And that memory made my road to the future clear not dark. I decided to join Derek Reese the next time beefcake took a shower.

Derek was a murderer and emotionally screwed in the head from being shoved into a death camp in the future by cyborgs, but at least Derek wasn’t some fucking basketcase who thought ceiling demons existed and then when I tried to explain about the nuclear Armageddon approaching and terminators, had the nerve to call me nuts.

THE END


****************************************************




AN/Public Health Service announcement: If you are twelve and reading this, naughty! Anyway, use a condom when you have sex or you might get an std or knocked up.
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Lovestoned [Jan. 2nd, 2008|09:24 pm]
Title: Lovestoned
Author: Kiwikatipo
Fiction Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.

***oooO0Oooo***


Sometimes all it takes to fall in love in a small town’s only nightclub are flashing lights, a slick beat and inhaling a member of the opposite sex’s scent.

“Buffy suits you, you look like a Buffy, I thought that the second I heard your name last week either that or Mindy, maybe Candy, an e sounding ending definitely.” Dean let his hands wander along the young woman’s bare back as he held her close and snug.

“You looked like a con artist - just sharing.” Buffy’s mouth twitched in an amused smirk as she stared into the stranger’s green eyes.

Dean had green eyes, Buffy had green eyes, they were both eldest children and they were both Americans in a foreign country. As Dean pointed out this should make them further bond in kindred solidarity.

“Newfoundland’s not Tibet,” Buffy spun coquettishly under Dean’s arm, his dancing ability fell into the adequate rather than spectacular category unlike Buffy’s superior toe-tapping talent.

“We both hunt demons, I call that a rock hard foundation for understanding and friendship.” Dean held Buffy securely close in his arms once more.

“I call that coincidence. The last Demon Hunter I met got turned into a puppet but then so did one of my ex- boyfriends (one of the vamps) I heard.” Buffy rested her forehead on Dean’s jacket it smelled of fir needles, gunpowder residue and him. “I might be a Muppet curse on you, I’ve never been large on luck with love. And then there’s the ceiling thing with your mom and Sam’s college girlfriend…”

“That demon’s dead, Princess Paranoid,” he daringly rubbed his nose over her almond and roses fragranced hair. His mom used to smell like she did, Sammy would have a field day with the Freudian Oedipal issues of Dean’s attraction to Buffy.

“The knowledge you only have three months left to live makes me not want to do this.” Buffy raised her head so she could brush her glossed lips softly against Dean’s wind chapped ones.

The muscles in Dean’s body hardened to iron as he captured her in a harsh embrace. He pressed her petite form into his cowboy rangy frame and returned her tentative kiss with maximum ardor.

“It’s not fair.” Buffy broke away and her eyes were glistening with furious tears. “If I could give you some of my immortality…”

“Then I wouldn’t be with the hottest looking twenty year old in the joint and if it worked out with us long term I’d get arrested for being a pervert.” Dean’s mouth found hers once more to resume their sweet physical discovery of one another.

Love always hurt a little and when you were people like Buffy and Dean it always seemed to hurt a lot.
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Not Designed to be a chump [Jan. 1st, 2008|11:47 am]
[Current Mood | busy]

Author: Kiwikatipo

Fiction Rated: M - English - Romance/Humor

Not made to be a chump

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am not making any profit from this. Thank you, James Cameron.

Part One: Room Swap

Alec lowered his fist sheepishly with everyone else in the crowd. Well, Max had done it again; they were all staying in T.C. sink or swim. He looked amused over at Mole. Mole the grumpy leader of the freaks was onboard as well. Alec rolled his arm gingerly, God he felt like crap.

Max stared at Alec and Mole expectantly. Right, of course the practical details of making their last stand were going to be left to Alec and Mole.

“Ok,” Mole rubbed his hands. “Let’s get down to business, people.”

Alec finally made it to bed three hours later. The planning of how to hold Terminal Centre against an attack had taken that long. He opened the door to the abandoned office that Biggs used to use as a bedroom, flung off his clothes and collapsed on a double bed. He shut his eyes and prepared to sleep.

A quiet knocking at his door startled him. Had the attack by the National Guard started already? He pulled on his jeans and went over to the door.

Alec opened the door and Max stood outside it with a bag.

“I need to come in.” she hissed in a whisper.

Alec gestured to enter and Max slipped inside carrying a borrowed sleeping bag. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He could tell right away that this was not an emergency but another Logan/Max crisis. His shoulder hurt like hell and he was so not in the mood for this.

“I need to sleep in your room.” She said. “Because now everyone in Terminal City thinks we’re together.” She had the grace to blush.

“Wonderful.” Alec smiled sarcastically. “There goes any chance of me getting laid before I die.”

“We’re not gonna to die.” fumed Max. “I couldn’t think what else to say. I had to keep up the screwy pretence, when Logan asked me wasn’t I going to sleep in your room tonight.”

“Fine,” Alec pointed. “There’s the floor.” He hopped back into bed and shut his eyes. He could hear Max getting undressed in the dark and settle down on the floor. He threw her a pillow.

“Thanks, Alec.” Max whispered.

The wounded male tossed for an hour, his torn arm and bruises keeping him awake.

“Alec.” Max said in the darkness. “Is your shoulder keeping you awake?”

“Yep.” Alec replied shortly. He could hear Max rustle in a small bag she kept beside her.

“I have real good pain killers Dr Carr prescribed me,” Max explained, “from when I was shot in the stomach. Wanna try one?’

Alec rose carefully. He walked over to her, and took the bottle she held out. “Two?”

“Should work” agreed Max. She glanced across the darkness at him. “I’m glad you decided to stay, Alec.”

“Well you’re right occasionally, very occasionally, where is there left to run?” Alec settled back down. “How come you’re not asleep?”

“I’m soft.” Max shuffled on the ground. “The floors hard, I’m covered with bruises from the fight with that Breeding Cult bitch and I’m cold.”

“Been a long time out of Manticore haven’t you?” Alec grinned. “You can share the bed but don’t try anything.”

Max laughed. “Good try. But I’ll keep on the floor thanks.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Maxie.” Alec said slipping back into his bed. “I hope you don’t snore.” He added and drifted off to sleep.

He woke up to Max fully dressed and offering him a cup of coffee. He drank it gratefully.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked.

“Alright,” Alec said “Less like tenderized meat, you?”

“Better,” agreed Max. “Have another pain killer.” She pointed at his kitchen area. “You’re nicely set up.”

“Yeah, this was all Biggs stuff. He’d been here five months.” Alec said indicating the furnished office. “I gave a couch away to a pregnant X5 last week though. Otherwise you could have slept on that. So you’re planning to sleep on the floor indefinitely, huh?”

“Yeah,” Max replied “Though if you don’t mind me sleeping in your bed when you’re not there, I’ll do that.”

“You’re crazy, Max.” Alex snorted. “You can sleep with me for god’s sake. Have I ever made a pass at you in the nine months we’ve known each other?”

“No, but I’ve never slept in the same bed with you before either.” Max said stubbornly. “Here take this pill.” She held out her hand and cupped it against his mouth. “I know you still must be sore.”

“Well nice to see you acting like a proper girlfriend for a change.” Alec swallowing the pill and ducked Max’s incoming cuff to his head.

Part Two Observing the stalker

Later during a chaotic, busy day Alec noticed Logan staring at Max and him. Max noticed too and put her hand on Alec’s forearm. Alec looked up from the map of the sewers he was looking at. He winked at her and then kissed her cheek quickly.

Mole looked at them and frowned. “Cut it out, lovebirds. Do we risk tunneling or not?”

“Risk it.” said Alec, feeling Logan’s gaze still on him. Holy Crap, how did Max put up with this every day?

That evening Alec and Max walked to their room together. “Logan’s still really hung up on you isn’t he?” Alec commented. “Don’t say this is none of my business either. You made it my business, when you told everyone we’re together. Oh by the way, some one asked if you were a screamer, are you?”

Max looked at Alec indignantly and dangerously. “What did you answer, pervert?”

“I said, she’s my girlfriend, man, its private.” Alec said. He opened the door to their room for her exaggeratedly. “I’m a gentleman.”

Max laughed tiredly. “You’re a good friend.” She looked longingly at the bed. “You promise you’re not gonna go all octopus on me?”

“Yeah, it’s a big bed. You just keep on your side, Maxie.” Alec took off his clothes unselfconsciously. He looked at Max who was staring at him incredulously. “What?”

“I can’t believe you’re naked in front of me!” Max exclaimed.

“What, Manticore raised remember?” he laughed. “Just because ten years on the outside has turned you into a prude.” He folded his clothes and hopped into bed. “Or you can’t believe your fantasy has come true?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Max sniffed sarcastically. She lay on top of the bed fully clothed. “Goodnight, Alec.”

“Night, Maxie,” Alec said cheerfully.

The next day Alec noticed Logan watching his and Max’s every move again. An attractive X6 tried to flirt with Alec but aware of Logan’s watchful eyes he gently rebuffed her.

Max came over and put her arm round his waist. “I really appreciate this, Alec.” She murmured.

“Oh you so owe me, Max, that chick was hot.” Alec complained, “but hey, anything for a friend.” He winked at her. “You could put your hand lower.”

“In your dreams, Alec,” Max replied tersely. She smiled worriedly as Logan came over with some print outs of National Guard numbers in Washington State. Logan would stand too close and she was constantly stressed she was going to touch him.

Alec didn’t see Max come to bed that night but woke up to her beside him. He made her a cup of coffee and brought it to her. He nudged her with his foot.

Max opened her eyes. “Oh thanks, Alec. For a genetically engineered assassin you’re a nice guy sometimes, y’know?”

“Yeah,” agreed Alec, “I try anyway. Rise and shine, princess, we were going to Joshua’s flag raising thing, remember?”

Part Three No More Mr Nice Guy

Alec witnessed Max saccharine hand holding of Logan on a roof during their flag raising ceremony in annoyed disbelief. What was the stupid bitch doing or was Logan being a creepy stalker?

Alec wasn’t designed to be a chump. Max was supposed to be his fucking girlfriend. Right, no more Mr. Nice Guy.

He strode over to them and whacked his hand hard on her rump. Max started and looked at him furiously. She broke hands with Logan.

“Come on, honeybunch.” Alec said. “We were planning on breakfast in bed remember?” he slid his arms round her waist and placed his head on her shoulder.

“She’s such a wonder.” Alec smiled at Logan. “I just thank god for her everyday.”

Logan looked at him in amazement. “You never struck me as the religious type.”

“Well there’s a lot you don’t know about transgenic males, Logan pal, lets face it.” Alec smirked over Max’s shoulder. Max tried to wriggle away, but he so wasn’t having that. He tightened his grip so she’d have to make a scene in front of Logan to get away.

“Well let’s go eat, Alec.” Max said quickly. She was still trying unsuccessfully to pry Alec’s hands off her waist. “I’m freakin starving.”

Alec released her and took her hand. “And we both know why, you naughty gal.” he whacked Max on the butt again and enjoyed watching her wince.

“Ow! Darling,” Max laughed falsely. “That hurts a little.”

“Sorry baby, a bit tender from last night huh?” Alec put an expression on his face to make it look like he’d said that sentence accidentally. “From when you fell on your ass on the sidewalk.” He pretended to cover. “He kissed her cheek. “You can be so clumsy, sweetheart.”

He noticed O.C. glaring at him. What was that woman’s problem? Alec was going to sort her out today as well, but first Max.

“C’mon, Maxie, lets go back to bed.” He urged her, the trained soldier and torturer put a bit of painful pressure on her wrist, to make her move. He grinned charmingly at Mole. “See you in thirty minutes, Bro.”

Max waited till they were in the stairwell before tearing her hand free. “You ass-wipe!” she yelped rubbing her wrist. “What the hell was that all about?”

Alex leaned forward and stroked her behind again. He could tell that particularly infuriated her. “Can’t talk here, baby.” he commented as two X5’s passed them on the stairwell to go up to the roof. “Let’s discuss this in our room.” Alec held out his hand. “Don’t argue, Max.”

Part four Me and you

They walked holding hands to their room. Max broke her hand away the second they got inside their room and slapped Alec hard on the face.

“Been building up to that?” Alec laughed. “That slaps gonna cost you, Max.” He sat down on the floor and beckoned for her to join him.

Max sat down on the floor. “What the fuck is up with you this morning?” she asked.

“Who told Logan we were seeing each other, you or me?” Alec asked.

“Me,” Said Max. “But I…”

“Shut up you can have your say in five minutes.” Alec snapped over the top of her. “And who told everyone in Terminal City three days ago, that we were sleeping together?”

“Me,” repeated Max. Her face fell. Oops, she could see where this was going.

“And who has been turning down hot looking sexual partners to help their friend out?” Alec went on. “In fact, being real decent to you in general?”

“You…” Max admitted, “but…”

Alec held up a virtuous hand for silence.

“And who was holding hands with their ex on the roof, in full view of the most important transgenics here and my best ordinary bud in Jam Pony?” Alec prodded.

“Me,” answered Max in shame.

Alec looked at her angrily “So who was made to look stupid?”

‘Oh, crap you.” replied Max dropping her head. “I’m sorry, Alec. I can see why you’re pissed off.”

“Then why did you do something so retarded?” Alec inquired. He felt a bit deflated he hadn’t expected to get her to cave in so quickly. Alec had wanted to make her suffer a bit longer. Hmm those thoughts were a bit psychotic; he quickly buried them in his mind along with all the others.

Max lay back on the floor and shut her eyes. “He surprised me with the rubber gloves. He just turned up in them, stood beside meand started holding my hand. I didn’t want to make a big scene and spoil Joshua’s big moment; just like I didn’t want to make a scene with you.” Max groaned. “Logan keeps being in love with me and I really do want to move on for his own safety. Doesn’t he want to have sex ever again?” Max asked Alec who had joined her lying on the floor.

“God, don’t you, Max?” Alec asked her in surprise. He stared at the ceiling

“I don’t know.” Max said stiffly. “Personal much? Yeah, probably with someone I love. But Logan not letting go makes that hard.”

“Well don’t sweat it Max, all gloves are off, ‘scuse the pun.” Alec rolled over and looked at her. “If you’re serious about repelling Logan once and for all, we’re gonna give him the performance of a lifetime today.” Alec looked at her and grinned. “You know how I said you owed me for that slap?”

“Yeah,” Max replied. Her eyes flew open in astonishment as Alec leant over and kissed her mouth. She instantly pushed him off her.

“No, no, no.” Alec teased “That little reaction is what will make our performance fail today. Again thank you, there needn’t be tongues.” He leant over again and opened his mouth over hers. As far as he was concerned it felt right and natural. God knows what Max thought.

Max relaxed he wasn’t putting his tongue in her mouth, this might actually work.

However, Max immediately pushed Alec’s hand away as soon as she felt it on her breast. She twisted her head away from his mouth. “Like I’d ever let a guy do that to me in public.”

“I appreciate that, Maxie.” Alec said soothingly “but we might be able to arrange a private display for Logan to walk in on. So stop flinching, relax. According to you, we’ve been banging uglies for a month, remember?”

Alec continued making out with Max until he felt her press her groin into his. Both their breathing had quickened. Max pulled his head down for a kiss roughly. Alec smirked inwardly as she swirled her tongue in his mouth and pushed her breast against his hand.

Alec pushed her away abruptly. “And that’s the pay back for that slap.” he said smugly. He stood quickly up, ignoring his own erection. “Come on, Max. Let’s turn off Logan.”

“I hate you!” Max gasped her cheeks burning. She scrambled to her feet.

“No time for that.” Alec smiled opening the door for her “After you, sweetheart.”

Part five Phase One

Max walked out the door trying to control her breathing. She hadn’t had sex for a year. Manticore had obviously fixed her heat cycles along with her sleep patterns and she had forgotten what it had felt like to really want sex and not be able to satisfy the urge. She glared at Alec. Screw him for making her feel like this. Oh god, now she was fantasizing about screwing him.

Alec chuckled, he had enjoyed teasing her before, but seeing her sexually frustrated like this was totally a Kodak moment.

An opportunity to rub Logan’s nose in it didn’t come up till mid afternoon. Max was drinking soup out of a cup when Logan came up behind her and put a rubber gloved hand on her neck. She started and almost spilled her soup. This put her in a pissed off frame of mind instantly because she was hungry and all food had been handed in and rationed. (Alec had pointed out that coffee was not food so there was no reason to feel bad about their little morning secret brews from Biggs dwindling supply.)

“Are you alright, Max?” Logan checked concerned. ‘You seemed a little tense on the roof. Is everything ok with you and Alec?”

“Fine thanks, Logan.” Max said irritated. She twisted away from his hand. “Have you had lunch? This soup’s real good.”

Alec walked over to them grinning. He pulled her close, put down her mug and gave her a long kiss on the mouth. “Missed your kiss, babe.” He pretended to pull her away from Logan and lowered his voice a fraction but still so Logan could hear it. “Great news, Maxiekins, I scored this condom off Sketchy.” He held it out so Logan could see it but no one else could.

Logan walked out of the control room clenching his jaw. Alec and Max watched him go with satisfaction.

“And now for phase two.” Alec smiled down at her. “We’re going to see Gem.” He took her hand. “Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”

Alec and Max knocked on Gems door. The new mother opened the door to them and smiled. “I know I’m not back in Manticore,” Gem chuckled, “When people knock. Come in.”

Max and Alec entered the old office room and sat down on an old desk. Gem sat down on the floor beside a sleeping baby Eve.

“It’s about your breeding partner 311.” Alec said. “He made it out of Manticore alive and he wants to see you and the baby.”

Gem gasped. “Maybe I don’t want to see him.” Gem’s face turned white. “Because maybe I think he’s a rapist.”

“Look we all had our orders, Gem.” Alec began reasonably. “He only wants to see if you and the baby are okay.”

“So did you rape Max when you were breeding partners?” Gem asked sweetly. “Is that how you got together, how you fell in love?”

“No.” said Max. “Alec didn’t. I didn’t want to, he respected that.” She looked gratefully at him. She had never really appreciated that before. “But he helped give my friend Logan a deadly virus, activated by me because Alec was under orders.” Max looked down. “So it was kinda hard to accept him as a pal once we were out of Manticore. But Manticore was evil, Gem, it made us all do wrong things.” Max sighed. “311 goes by the name Sims now and he wants the chance to help you both, to redeem himself.”

“Seriously Dalton has my back and is all the help I could need. He’s out getting food for us now.” Gem said. “But 311 he held me down when we had sex and it hurt, he kept apologizing all through it.” Tears brimmed in her eyes at the memory. “Why can’t he just be dead?”

Part Six Phase two

After an hour of terse conversation Alec and Max left Gem’s room. “God,” remarked Alec, “that was as gruesome as I thought it would be. Thanks for helping out.”

“No problemo.” Max looked down at the ground. “Thanks for not raping me nine months ago.”

Alec looked at her. “Glad you finally get that.” he shook his head. “God, imagine us with a baby.”

Max darted forward and kissed him fondly on the cheek. Alec blinked. He hit his head with his hand.

“Oh yeah, phase two. Almost forgot.” He dipped her back and started to kiss her neck. “Work with me here.” He instructed her. Max relaxed in his arms and closed her eyes. Alec’s nuzzling felt so good. She didn’t realize how touch starved she’d been. She stroked his hard torso exploring, putting her hand under his t-shirt and feeling his shoulder muscles and smooth back.

“Hey, Max, Alec” Sketchy’s voice came behind her. She sprang upright Alec steadying her.

Sketchy and a wounded looking Logan stood in front of her. Max snuck a inquiring gaze at Alec, so this was phase two huh?

“I was just going in to interview Gem.” Sketchy explained. “Logan’s going to help me seeing he worked as a newspaper journalist for years.”

“Be careful.” Alec warned. “Gem’s feeling a bit fragile at the moment, you know new Moms.” He cuddled Max. “Maxie and I were just leaving.”

Max waved after them weakly.

Logan and Sketchy entered Gem’s room.

Alec turned briskly to Max. “Right free time for you until 19.00 then meet me in front of the bath house and bring your towel.”

“Is that phase three?” Max asked him slowly sliding out of his arms.

“You’re catching on.” Alec winked at her. “I gotta blaze. See ya.”

Part Seven Phase three

Max met Alec in front of the bath house the X5s set up in Oak Street at seven o’clock. Alec signed them in - water being strictly rationed, and led her in to a converted factory shop with, oh joy, a steaming hot bath in the middle.

“You can go first.” He offered. “And spare me the shit about turning my back. I can resist jumping you remember?”

Max peeled her clothes off. Alec looked her up and down, staring at her runes but didn’t comment. Max met his glance head on and deliberately got in to the bath as sensually as she could manage. Alec passed her soap out of her toilet bag.

“Help me wash my hair?” Max asked him. “It’s the rinsing. Fill up that bucket and then pour it over my head when I tell you.” Alec did so in silence. Max lathered her hair then dipped her head in the bath. Alec lifted the bucket up, slowly rinsing her hair with clean water.

Max got out and Alec passed her, her towel. “I need to shave my legs.” Max explained. So you may as well have the bath now. You don’t want my stubble in the water.”

“If you never have sex.” Alec asked curiously lowering himself in the bath. “Why do you bother to shave your legs?”

“I like them that way.” Max explained applying foam on her legs. “It’s fashionable.”

Alec shrugged. “Good thing you didn’t live at the turn of this century then.” He remarked “Or you’d probably wax your pubes.”

Max laughed at the ridiculous idea, “Eww and as if.”

Alec carefully washed himself with a brush. He lay back happily. “God, I love baths.”

Max smiled. “Me too.” She sat on the edge of the bath. “I bet if Manticore had handed out rubber ducks to us as kids we would have really liked them.”

“That’s a cute thought.” Alec mused getting out of the bath. “Can you pass me my towel thanks?”

“Sure.” said Max tossing it gently. “So phase three. Logan’s booked his bath the slot after us right?”

Alec toweled himself dry. “You catch onto my plan so well.”

“Well so what?” Max said. “We’re a couple we have a bath together. That’s hardly shocking, especially with water restrictions.”

“He’s going to hear us having mind blowing sex.” Alec said. “Ever faked an orgasm before?”

“Um, no actually,” Max said pulling on her clothes. “If a partner wasn’t doing it for me I’d always tell them how to correct it.”

“Why does that not surprise me even slightly?” Alec said. ”Well it’s time for the performance of your life tonight.” He told her putting on his clothes.

So Max found herself five minutes later with her back against the wall by the door. Alec was facing her, both of them listening for Logan’s footsteps.

They heard him coming. Alec wrapped her legs round his hips and started to slam her into the wall. Max put her hand over her mouth to stop laughing. Alec glared at her.

“Oh God Max.” he moaned loudly. “Yeah like that, angel.” Max looked at him in embarrassment. Did he really sound like that during sex? She sincerely hoped not. Hold on, why did she care?

“C’mon Max.” Alec growled at her under his breath.

Max gulped. She opened her lungs and called out. “Oh yes, baby! Ohmigod! Harder! Harder!” Alec smiled at her approvingly.

“Come for me, hotstuff!” He yelled slamming her harder and faster. “Don’t hold back!”

“Oh I want you! I love you, Alec.” Max yelled trying to sound on the brink of an earth shattering climax.

“I love you too!” Alec shouted back. “Oh god! I can’t hold back much longer!”

He mouthed at her, “Come now.”

“Ah ah AGHH!” Max screamed feeling like she was providing the sound effects for a bad porno movie.

“Ugh unn!” Alec grunted realistically. He released Max down off the wall “You okay?” he whispered.

Max nodded, brushing herself down.

They counted to 100 and then opened the door cautiously. Logan was standing there with the X5 in charge of the bath house, both males looked stunned.

“Evening, Logan.” said Max cheerily holding Alec’s hand tightly. “Gem’s interview go alright?”

“Um yeah,” Logan said trying to recover. “Sketchy’s got a lot of potential to be a great journalist.”

“That’s good to hear.” said Alec. “Well enjoy your bath, pal.”

“Make sure you scrub out that bath thoroughly.” Max told the bath attendant. “Logan can’t come into contact with any part of me.” She turned to Logan. “Good night, Logan.”

“Night Max.” Logan said he smiled at her ruefully. “Night Alec.”

Max and Alec walked off together. “He seemed less obsessed to me.” Alec remarked.

“Yeah, me too.” Max replied as they walked up to their room. They went to the restroom on their floor and brushed their teeth.

Part Eight Anything for a friend

Max stopped him as they came out she reached up and kissed him on the mouth firmly in the hallway.

“Logan can’t see us, unless he’s suddenly got x-ray vision.” Alec commented drawing away.

“I know.” Said Max smiling wickedly, she ran her hands inside Alec’s jacket.

“So you think we’re going to die. I knew it!” Alec accused her triumphantly.

“No!” said Max. “We’re going to survive this, all of us.”

Alec looked alarmed. “Hey you don’t love me?”

“Your ego!” Max said amazed. “No it’s all this making out. I haven’t had sex for year and you have made me very, very horny.”

“So you want me to scratch your itch tonight.” Alec teased her, putting his arms round her waist confidently.

“Well yeah.” smiled Max equally confidently. She started to kiss him, gently biting his lower lip.

Alec swung her up in his arms. “Okay.” He offered as he opened their bedroom door “Anything for a friend.”

Both proceeded to undress each other leisurely once inside their room and gave each other the most exciting, unhurried, unselfish foreplay the two emotionally wounded people had ever given or received. Neither of them had ever before made love to someone who was their friend.

They lovers looked into each others eyes as the male quickened his thrusts. Max knew for once she didn’t need to say ‘harder’ or ‘faster’, because she was being made love to harder and faster than she ever had in her life before. Max clawed at his back as she orgasmed and wrapped her legs round his waist, lifting her pelvis so he could be even deeper inside her. Alex bit down on her shoulder as he came with a wrung out groan.

He lay back and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest. She mused upon what Alec would say next. She idly grabbed the used condom, tied a knot in the rubber and tossed it on the floor.

He wasn’t asleep Max wondered, so what the hell was he waiting for. What cocky quip, dumb little joke at her expense, was going to pop out of his mouth?

Alec kissed her softly. “Do you want to repeat that again sometime?” he whispered. “Please say yes.”

Max nodded.

Alec sighed with relief. He kissed her again. “I’ve never had sex with another transgenic before. It was good huh?”

“Yeah, it was awesome.” Max purred. She stiffened in his arms a little. “So it was just ‘cos we’re transgenics right? Nothing to do with me and you?”

“Oh we have definite chemistry, Maxie.” Alec reassured her. “But gotta admit... it was a relief not caring if I was hurting you accidentally.”

“You sound like a pig.” Max laughed. “But I know you’re an okay guy deep down.” She kissed his chest. “And pretty on top.”

“Manticore made you hot also.” Alec affirmed with a smirk. He stroked her drying hair. “I care about ya, Maxie.” he muttered into her bare shoulder.

Max smiled in the dark. “And do you think for one moment, Alec, I 'd let my guard down like this if I didn’t care about you, too?”

Author's Note: this story was written in answer to Pai’s challenge on Nuns with Pens.
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Romeo and Juliet are together for eternity [May. 26th, 2007|06:53 am]
Dean faced terrible evil monsters in his time, he’d bested death on numerous occasions, taken fool-hardy risks to save lives. So he forgot the turkey, people ate too much at Christmas anyway. With a smidgeon of sweet talk Faith wouldn’t care, right?

Dean could pretend all he wanted but he was gonna be so dead. And Sammy that yellow bellied wuss fled early to Megan’s flat for her Christmas Eve party, leaving Dean to face the music alone when Faith arrived home. She was allowed five minutes tops at being mad at him about his out of character forgetfulness, because he could get belligerent if pushed. And not to worry, he’d come up with a good solution about what to put on the table for tomorrow’s festive lunch.

Processed sliced ham bought from the gas station store on his way home, if wrapped in rolls with a toothpick skewer would substitute for turkey tomorrow. What would be the difference? Ham was a Christmas dish.

Dean decided to take a shower and get all spruced up to get ready for Megan’s Christmas party. He stood under the comforting warm spray of the shower.

Faith pulled back the plastic shower curtain and stepped into the shower stall, firmly but not roughly pushing him aside. Her hair hung in wet straggles already from the December rain outside. Her skin’s overall temperature mimicked a defrosting frozen chicken’s.

“I would’ve given you a ride from the bus stop. You shoulda called me.” Dean admonished her caringly. He moved to leave her to wash in peace.

“No, wait a sec.” Faith blocked his way, edging him into the corner of the shower stall. She turned up the temperature in the shower. She tilted her head back and let the welcome hot water remove the chill from her body. “How come you never came straight with me ‘bout selling your soul to a demon to save Sam, after your baby bro saved your ass in turn?”

She wasn’t screaming at him. She seemed… curious?

“Who told you? Buffy?” Dean should have been the one being antsy about Buffy Summers arrival in his new hometown it seemed.

“Yeah, wicked jolly little encounter, being nearly made to look a dick in front of her, not knowing vital shit about my own boyfriend.” Faith let the shower spray keep washing over her in a hot soothing flow.

“Nearly a dick?” Dean kept a casual expression on his face. He might survive this with his balls intact, stranger things happened and he’d seen most of them.

“I pretended I knew it all like you, baby, and waited to see what she spilled.” Faith turned around to let the water heat up her back. “So why didn’t ya tell me, huh?”

“Well not to sugarcoat, sweetheart, why rock the boat?” Dean smiled dangerously, prepared to launch a verbal counter strike at any second. There were a few things she kept secret from him he could bring up in turn. Like hello, turning evil in ’99. “I’m not going to Hell, spring next year. I never thought I would deep down once Sam swore he’d find a way to get me out of the contract. I didn’t wanna upset you that’s all.”

“Fuck, you’re a devious son of a bitch sometimes.” Faith shampooed her hair, scrunching her eyes shut against the lather. ‘It makes total sense that you wanted to spend your last days on Earth with me, I’m completely hot I know.”

Faith smirked.

“Nope, you’re kidding yourself, sister,” Dean leaned over waiting for the suds to leave her face so he could start kissing her. “I’ve stuck around, not because you’re such a cool chick or anything, but because I’m gonna join a local cricket team next summer. That way I can find a use for that fugly sweater you’re intending to palm off to me tomorrow.”

“The green sweater, I’ve been working on for the past six months?” Faith pressed close to him as his calloused clean hands began to wander familiarly over her body. “Au freaking contraire, Dean, I knitted the woolly abortion for Sam and am gonna fake being real hurt if he doesn’t wear it every day for the next week.” Faith had never forgotten the cigarette trick Sam played on her in Canada. “Let’s see the freak get laid in that number.”

They began to make love hurriedly, conscious of the time factor and the shower water about to run cold on them. Dean long ago learned he could get Faith to come fast if he penetrated her at the right angle and rubbed his thumb backwards and forwards lightly over her clit. Faith only ever needed to clench her internal muscles hard a couple of times to make Dean lose his load on cue.

“Jesus Christ!” Faith stared straight into his eyes as they climaxed together. Dean almost managed to say 'I love you' but ended up grunting - same as usual.

"Dean, that was fuckin' amazing!" Faith informed him excitedly as he pulled out from her.

“Uh thanks, I’m sexually amazing in the sack yeah. But that was just a quickie, Faith.” Dean climbed out of the shower and grabbed a towel. “Unless you’ve been faking all along, and with me how could you? Can’t believe the earth moved for you that much.”

“The screw was just okay, but we got off at the exact same time. Do y’know how freaking rare that is?” Faith enthused, staying behind in the shower to shave her legs.

“So we’re soul mates?” Dean filled up the bathroom sink with water to shave.

“No, it was just a wicked unusual coincidence.” Faith switched her razor to her other leg. “Hey and Dean, you didn’t feel me up when I first got into the shower with you. What are ya hiding this time, bud?”

Dean took a deep breath and prepared to bullshit about how cold ham would be fine to serve up to Sam and Craig tomorrow. His girlfriend was a slayer, she could understand dark dealings with demons, but sadly Faith remained a chick.

The 'selling his soul pact' remained the last big secret between them so nothing else should matter from here on in. The time for secrets and lies ended between them half an hour ago.

Dean squirted shaving foam on his hand. "Bad news, the local supermarket sold out of turkey by one o'clock. I tried eight different supermarkets before I needed to go pick up Sam - no joy, please don't be mad at me, Faith."

*******
THE END
*******
Gwyneth Paltrow moment - And a huge thank you to all who reviewed and recced. Many thanks to JennyLal for Irish intelligence,Allen Pitt for letting me bounce story ideas off her and pointing out to me facts about Faith’s past I never considered and Vesica for answering a Faith Question.

Beautiful Picture below by Muses Inspiration check out her website on my friends page.
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T'was the the night before Christmas [May. 25th, 2007|06:49 am]
The Italian restaurant was a fairly ordinary establishment. Red and white checked table cloths covered with glass, a white candle burning in the middle of each table.

Megan excused herself to go over and speak to friends she knew at another table. Craig went outside to join Faith in having a cigarette.

“It’s not surprising you’re having problems adjusting, dude.” Sam waved his finger in and out of the blue flame of the candle mesmerized. “You’ve never lived with a woman before. Never had a serious long term relationship – two weeks dating Cassie doesn’t count, jerk. You knew Faith for less than a month before you joined her here. Did you both think you were destined to be together or something when you met up with her again?”

“Don’t be freaking ridiculous, Sam. No and butt out.” Dean loved Faith that was all there was to it. He could see his brother the big gaybo, wanted some personal explanation trash from him regarding Faith’s insecure accusation to Dean and Jo.

“Faith trusts me. Faith just had a crap day at work, that’s all.” Did Faith trust him? Dean thought she did until the weird accusation out of the blue.

Dean couldn’t help looking at women as if imagining they were naked, feeding them corny come on lines. He spent the last ten years behaving that way to women, trying desperately to get laid in a hurry as he passed from town to town. Dean never used prostitutes so what else was he meant to do? Be celibate? Dean didn’t think so. Sounding perpetually as if Dean was trying to pick up chicks was ingrained in his persona. He didn’t want to do actually do anything for real with the women he chatted up daily in Dublin, Faith completely sexually satisfied him and then some, it was just a bad habit.

Dean didn’t get why Faith loved him he was basically an asshole.

Craig came back into the restaurant. “Faith come back in here?”

“No, she’s outside with Jo.” Dean looked at the desert menu speculatively – Pistachio gelato or tiramisu? Contrary to what Sam and Faith accused, Dean could venture out in taste exploration. He decided to stick with apple pie and vanilla ice-cream however.

“No, they’re not.” Craig sat back down annoyed at their table. “Bloody woman’s got my smokes. So much for her giving up.”

***

“Jo’s left her hand-bag behind.” Megan held up Jo’s suede shoulder purse up in an ‘Exhibit A’ pose from off the back of the chair Jo had been sitting on.

“Well where the hell are they?” Dean began to get a gnawing feeling of dread in his gut. “They’re not in the rest room?”

“I checked the bog twice.” Megan confirmed mystified.

***

The room where Faith regained consciousness could be any size, she couldn’t see because of her blindfold but she sensed it was small. Someone didn’t believe in taking any chances when it came to binding her. Faith twisted futilely against the industrial strength ropes wrapped around her body, her mouth muffled with masking tape - not a ball gag. Things could be worse.

Faith could hear what sounded like a party and the sound of breaking china coming far away from a room in another part of the building in which she lay on dusty carpet. She tried not to sneeze. She succeeded – yay her.

***

Faith and Jo had been missing for twenty minutes. The three men found Craig’s near full cigarette pack in the gutter in the side alley outside the restaurant. Faith was not answering her cell.

“You ring up the Garda, triple nine.” Craig instructed a worried sick by now Dean, frustrated because the Irish mobile phone company Faith was signed up with refused to give out Faith’s cell’s GPS location over the phone to Dean because of privacy laws. “I’m ringing up Siobhan.”

“Call in a sixteen year old kid to help with what’s looking more and more like a supernatural kidnapping? Works for me.” Dean dialed the Irish police number on his cell phone. He would have called the police in a second anyway. He and Faith were law abiding citizens in Dublin, there had to be some pay off for their boring lives.

***

Faith finally had the blindfold ripped off her as she was tied face down to a metal pole suspended over a child’s blow up plastic wading pool covered with ashes at the bottom of it. Jo lay suspended beside her unconscious on her own spit roast arrangement.

“I’m ‘Philip The Terrible’, you killed my lover and now I’m going to kill you to bring Kakistos back.” The old vampire informed Faith matter of factly. “I would have thought the other slayer would be awake by now too.” Phillip added to his three minion vamps in disappointment.

“Buffy Summers seemed tipsy when we shot her. She never could handle her drink we’ve heard.” One vamp explained pompously to his master.

Faith realized why someone would mistake Jo for Buffy in the dark. They were both blonde, short and had brown eyes. She and Jo were going to have their throats cut and their blood poured over the ashes of Kakistos because Faith and Buffy were the closest humans to Kakistos when he died.

Philip must have spent the past months gathering the ashes of Kakistos together using magic. Philip was responsible for trying to piss Faith and Buffy off at each other so much they’d meet in the same country. It also explained the extreme nuisance value as opposed to actual danger of the zombies Philip kept sending around to Faith’s apartment. Philip needed Faith to remain alive until an hour ago.

Except Phillip’s reanimation project wouldn’t work because Jo wasn’t Buffy. Faith tried once more to free herself gaining nasty rope burns in the process to no avail. Philip had never watched the sixties television series of Batman and did not realize as an arch villain he needed to leave the room so Faith could easily escape. Faith was fucked, royally and completely fucked.

Phillip raised a knife in Jo’s direction. Faith felt fatalism sweep over her - this was the end of the road. Shit - just when she found true love with Dean.

Phillip’s knife cut into the crook of Jo’s elbow, blood began to drip in a steady stream over the ashes lining the wading pool. Jo looked near death already, she had been administered a massive amount of tranquilizer for a human.

Phillip smiled smugly at Faith’s surprised expression. “You think I’m going to give you the mercy of a quick death by slitting your throats? I’m exsanguinating you bitches slowly, every drop.” He put his finger in the cut on Jo’s arm and tasted the blood. “Slayer blood is not what it’s cracked up to be, alas.”

Faith quickly figured out what exsanguination was when it was home as Phillip stabbed her own inner right arm. Exsanguination - another new word to add to her vocabulary, and not possibly her last one.

Come on guys! Faith’s body surged with ecstatic hope. She possessed every confidence that Dean, Sam and Craig would be knocking themselves out to find her and Jo. They would get Siobhan on board with a rescue mission. Being reformed would really deliver for Faith in this sitch.

Philip wasn’t so freaking smart after all, he was letting his love for Kakistos cloud his judgment and making Faith suffer for the sake of revenge instead of quickly killing her. Faith sneered at the vampire with contempt. Undead sap.

Like Faith ever let love compromise her way of doing things since she was seventeen. She was a cold hard bitch half the time, she didn’t understand why Dean loved her.

***

As the ordinary school girl Siobhan was, she got on Dean’s nerves. But as a killer of evil he respected her. It had gone against every gut instinct he owned, to sit passively in a graveyard with Faith restraining him from interfering the week he first arrived in Dublin, watching this poor kid basically fight a vampire alone. He conceded Siobhan was stronger and better at vampire fighting than Dean. Dean had reluctantly agreed to stay out of Faith’s life as far as vampire hunting was concerned. It was Faith’s thing. And she had asked him to get involved with killing a banshee the next week. So Dean’s area of expertise when it came to ghosts and spirits was acknowledged by everyone.

Dean took pride in the fact that he deducted Faith and Jo were being held prisoner in the building of the Greek restaurant that Faith first caught the attention of Philip's minions in.

And in rescuing Faith and Jo, Dean played his part most satisfactorily. He shot Phillip through the heart with his rifle creating a hole in the vampire’s calcified with age chest wall for Siobhan to drive a stake through.

Dean’s blood type proved wrong to donate to the very anemic drained Faith and Jo. Sam and Craig donated their universal donor type O to save the girls lives.

Fortunately Dean was able to show Faith how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, by nursing her devotedly the following couple of days.

Faith and Dean both apologized to each other akwardly and swiftly for not being more understanding of each others needs when the cut up Faith regained consciousness. They were both people that never overused the word sorry - on the other hand there was nothing like the threat of death to get life priorities in order.

So Faith ignored the fucking mess in the kitchen Dean made fixing her lunch as she limped from the bedroom to the bathroom. She concentrated on reminding herself how great Dean was at always remembering to pay the utility bills on time.

Dean suggested they could go out to dinner somewhere fancy before Faith went night-clubbing from now on. He resolved privately not to let her revealing outfits bother him anymore.

Things started to go swimmingly between them. They always did naturally get on well as people, not merely lovers and three months sped by of domestic bliss for them.

***
December 2007
Dublin, Ireland
***

And it came to pass that Christmas arrived in Faith and Dean’s lives, the ultimate Western stress creator.

“So you didn’t get a freaking turkey?” Faith fumed, coming home after working twelve hours without a coffee, lunch or dinner break in a gift wrapping hectic hell of Christmas poinsettia and mistletoe.

“I thought you were gonna.” Dean had been working overtime at his job fixing everyone’s cars brought in for last minute servicing before the season's holidays started.

“Dean, we agreed you’d pick up it, pal.” Faith flung her TV dinner in the microwave.

“No honey, you freaking ordered me to do it like I was some kinda kid as you left the house this morning and I told you I wouldn’t have time.” Dean fiddled with the Christmas tree lights on the coffee table, for some reason they weren’t working properly. It was very important to Faith they have decorations up and here he was trying to make things nice for her. Was she going to notice?

“Shit, have you got oil on the carpet again?” Faith picked up Dean’s overalls from the floor and headed to the bathroom to throw them in the washing machine there. She was trying her best to make the apartment nice for his due-to-arrive tomorrow brother; did Dean ever appreciate her efforts to make Sam feel welcome? She could exsanguinate the bastard sometimes.

She went back out and saw Dean had strung up the Christmas tree lights for her.

“Wow, you got ‘em working.” Faith put her arms around his neck touched. “Ya so good at electrical shit.”

“Piece of cake,” Dean wrapped his hands around her back fondly. He never suspected Faith would be such a sentimentalist over Christmas. “Hey, I’ll pick up the turkey tomorrow. I finish at twelve.”

They kissed affectionately, Christmas always made people on edge but they were gonna cope with it just fine.

***


“Oh holy crap!” Dean slapped his forehead in disbelief at his stupid oversight as he drove Sam home from the airport on Christmas Eve. Traffic was hell getting to Dublin International Airport on Christmas Eve and it was going to be just as freaking hideous getting home.

“I forgot to buy a friggin’ turkey.” The supermarkets would all be closed. He hoped Faith wouldn't go ballistic at him. She’d been a moody bitch this week, all because she was meeting Buffy tonight.

***

Taking off her apron Faith wished her boss a Merry Christmas. She walked with the waiting Buffy to the nearest open pub.

“So Siobhan musta come on the spot, you giving her that award in person for being 'Slayer of the year'.” Faith opened conversation once the two women grabbed an empty table in the crowded bar.

“She was sweetly big with the being pleased. She’s cute totally.” Buffy sipped her white wine. South African fermented grape goodness. “So um, sorry I was so dumb I thought you sent me that letter.”

“I was retarded too.” Faith quickly changed the subject. “It working out okay with you and that guy Daniel still?”

“Yeah, he’s great at working out how to fill in tax returns which I hate doing like a lot, and he enjoys going to poetry reading nights with me.” Buffy volunteered putting her feet protectively over her traveling case so it wouldn’t get knocked over. “You and Sam Winchester’s brother are all happy and contenty, I hear?”

“Yeah, Dean’s great too.” Faith drank her beer. Ten minutes of this phoney B.S. to get through and then Buffy would be catching a taxi to make her flight back to London.

“I guess he must be. Risking his soul to save his brother, selfless much? I thought Sam was just faking wanting to be a watcher too, only joined the New Watcher’s Council to work out a way to rescue Dean before the year on his life ran out, but Sam’s working out fine and peachy as a watcher in Lisbon.” Buffy didn’t think she needed to order another drink did she? Just one would be enough to be socially polite surely? Then she could go. What was Faith narrowing her eyes over?

“Go back a sentence, B.”
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We're caught in a trap [May. 24th, 2007|06:48 am]
***
Mid August (follows same day from previous chapter)
2007
Dublin, Ireland
****
Dean poured himself another stiff drink, he glanced at his watch. Faith would be due back home any minute. Any minute this new life he attempted to forge for himself could all go down the can.

It couldn’t be Faith. There must to be some mistake. His Faith, the smart ass girl he fell in love with back as a kid, who two months ago dropped everything to help Sammy out of a sense of loyalty, who was prepared to risk her life to save Sam, his Faith - no freaking way. Was there? She could have.

“Man, did I get damn good news today,” Faith shut the front door behind her with a happy bang, walk-skipped across the room in glee and threw her purse on the table. “My ex-boss offered me my old job back at the end of the month. The chick who replaced me is moving back to Cork to be…” She caught sight of Dean’s face.

Dean sat on the couch with a whiskey bottle open in front of him and a half full glass. He remained wearing his blue work overalls which wasn’t like him.

“Someone die?” Faith inquired lightly. Did Dean have a crap day at work or something? She knew he found it hard to take orders.

“Yeah, an assistant mayor, a courier and a vulcanologist, whatever the hell that is.” Dean raised his glass in toast to her. “Got something you don’t want to tell me?”

***
1998
New Mexico, U.S.A
***

Faith outstretched her body face down on the edge of the ledge, peering at the clear deep pool that lay below fed by the nearby stream. Dean’s hand stroked her inner knee.

“You’re getting sunburned.” Dean observed lying beside her in the hot sun. He liked making girls squirm but Faith proved disappointingly non-ticklish.

“Am I?” Faith’s attention lay with what sparkled at the bottom of the pool. “Hey Dean, there’s somethin’ down in that pool. Look for yahself.”

Dean nosed his way to the edge cautiously. “Yep, maybe,” Something glinted in the clear pool below. It looked silver; probably a tab from a soda can left by picnickers. The waterhole’s surrounds bore the remains of campfires.

“There is.” Faith sprang up, a girl on a mission. “I’m gonna get it.” She peeled off her t-shirt, skirt, bra and cotton thong, kicking off her sneakers.

“No Faith, whoa. It’s too high, you’ll kill yourself.” Dean cautioned in alarm, sitting up alert, his drowsy state bought about by the hot sun vanished.

“I’m a wicked good diver.” Faith possessed every confidence in her diving technique. It was one of the few things she was better than everyone else at back in Southie, before she became a slayer. “Bring my clothes down to me?”

Faith poised backwards on the ledge, getting off on Dean’s look of terror for her. Oh the power. She somersaulted backwards and swallow dived into the water.

“Christ Faith! Faith!” Dean yelled after her, hearing the splash. He threw himself down on the ledge and looked over the edge. Faith lay motionless at the bottom of the pool. He ignored her clothes left on the ledge and hastened slipping, sliding down the rocky path from the high rock formation towards the waterhole.

He reached the pool his heart pounding and lungs gasping to find the waters empty of a floating body.

“Faith!” Dean yelled around him searching panicked. Had she been abducted by aliens? They were near Roswell, Dean didn’t believe in aliens but he wouldn’t have believed anyone could survive that fall either.

“I’m here,” Faith knelt by the side of the pool looking at something in the thick moss that grew on the rocks beside the water. “Keep your voice down will ya? You’re disturbing the freakin’ serenity of the place.”

“Hey, what was with you pretending to have knocked yourself out?” Dean knelt beside her angrily, his denim clad knees sinking into the soft moss.

“I was freakin’ you - worked right?” Faith pointed with her black polished chipped fingernail at insect activity the moss. “R rated ‘A bugs life’ - cruel.”

In the moss writhed a grub being eaten alive by ants.

“Yeah, nature’s cruel.” Dean agreed with her. And Faith was too, Dean had been scared shitless.

“I thought I could squash the maggot thing with a stone and put it out of its misery but maybe that’s mean to the ants.” Faith looked up at him, her deep brown eyes confused as if she was thinking over bigger issues than grubs and ants. “You ever think about crap like that?”

“Sometimes,” Dean thought about things often.

Faith slid into the pool once more, beckoning him to join her with a crooked finger and an evil grin.

He hadn’t gone skinny dipping with a chick since high school finished for him over a year ago. Dean peeled off his clothes and jumped in with her creating a huge flamboyant splash. They swam leisurely from one side of the pool to another. Dean grabbed Faith when she brushed past him, pulling her close.

They kissed and fondled, she pushed him away abruptly when he began to press the head of his rapidly risen cock between her thighs.

“No.” Faith broke their wet lustful kiss and shook her head regretfully. This was a surefire way to get knocked up, the last thing she needed and her luck sucked.

“I could pull out in time.” Dean suggested hopefully, cupping her breast with his hand.

“Got swimmers ear, pal? I said no.” Faith remembered Dean was her meal ticket and free ride to California on the condition she screwed him whenever he wanted.

So did Dean.

They stared at each other for a moment uncertainly.

“We should head back anyway.” Dean swam back to the shore trying to sexually calm down.

Faith swam hastily after him and climbed back out onto the moss.

“I’ll get your clothes for you, Aquawoman.” Dean told her resigned, putting his jeans socks and boots back on. “You’ll hurt your girl tootsies on the rocks.” He tossed her his t-shirt, “You’re turning into a rock lobster.”

Faith pulled on his t-shirt over her sunburned shoulders. “My feet are fine.” Faith picked up the object she retrieved from the water and scrambled after him. The rocks on the path did hurt her feet a little but nothing too bad.

Dean put his hand in hers and smiled at her all curious once they were both at the summit of their climb and fully dressed. “What did the shiny thing turn out to be - buried treasure?”

“Kinda, a ring,” Faith slid the way too loose for her ring off her thumb. The man’s silver ring looked expensive and she thought she could pawn it. Dean had been nice to her this afternoon and not been mean - cruel. Guys could be assholes.

Dean was a show off sap. She was a bigger sap.

“You have it.” Faith pressed it onto his thumb, even his fingers were a mite too skinny at nineteen to fit it securely. She was such a freaking sap she should be ashamed of herself. She kissed him on the mouth purely because she liked him.

“Thanks.” Dean held his hand up to admire his new jewelry, it was an awesome ring. He took her hand again and squeezed. It wasn’t just sex between them he guessed - this ring from her proved it.

***
Mid August 2007
Dublin, Ireland
***

“I fucking told you it isn’t me anymore!” Faith screamed at Dean as they both stood across the living room from one another yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. “You fucking snoop, you go on an anonymous letter Marcus probably sent you, you find out shit you don’t wanna know! Didn’t need to fucking know in the first place!”

“And how the hell do I know, it isn’t you anymore?!” Dean demanded angrily - no wonder her ex-husband left her. Who the hell wouldn’t after finding this shit out? Dean killed monsters like Faith had been. Dean wanted to leave…but he wouldn’t because he loved her and she’d obviously been insane at the time. What if she still could be? “How much therapy did you get in prison, Faith?! Fricking zero from the sounds of it!”

“But I didn’t need a shrink in the end! I worked out all my crap by my sweet self when I got put in solitary all the time in my first year inside!” Faith searched for the perfect words to express her emotions. She was frightened he’d leave her, angry at him for finding out the truth about her past, full of guilt and self loathing again over the vile shit she pulled in Sunnydale eight years ago.

“Screw you, you dick!” Picking up the half full whiskey bottle from the coffee table Faith threw it across the room, smashing it into the living room wall.

“Right back at you, bitch!” Dean picked up his empty glass and threw it after the bottle adding more broken glass to the carpet. Dean felt twice as incensed as before, because as the guy he should have got to throw the damn bottle.

He stormed off into the bedroom.

“What are you doin’?” Faith walked rapidly after him. He was going to pack he was going to leave her. And it was gonna hurt far more than Marcus leaving her ever did because she loved Dean.

Dean snatched up the knife he kept under his pillow. “Are you ever going to use this on me?”

“No!” Faith screamed at him her fists clenched in frustration at not being able to make him understand or believe her reformation. “Never! Not on you not on anyone!”

“Well that’s all that matters, Faith” Dean put the knife safely in the top drawer of the bedside table. “I know it gets on your nerves I keep it under my pillow.” He added in a quiet voice.

Faith blinked in shock all prepared to keep on fighting and screaming, feeling bio-chemical brain frustration from not hitting anything or breaking stuff with her bare hands in a violent release. She wouldn’t hit Dean, she’d never harmed a sexual partner since she escaped from prison but all smashable items in her apartment were in terrible danger if he walked out on her. “Aren’t you gonna leave?”

“No.” Dean’s body also physically hurt from adrenaline rearing to go. He moved trembling towards her. “Do you want me to go?” He wasn’t gonna leave, tough shit for her if she did, he loved her.

“No.” Faith’s cheeks burned from defensive rage. She stepped directly up to him moving her mouth up to meet his. “I want you to st...” Her last word was cut off as their mouths melded in a hectic messy painful kiss. She wanted him to stay, she loved him.

Their tongues wrestled for supremacy in and out of each others mouths. Dean popped open the dome buttons on Faith’s work uniform pulling it off her shoulders. This conflicted in a tangle of fabric and arms as she simultaneously tried to pull off his overalls. Eventually after much awkward stumbling, ripping and tripping they managed to remove enough clothing so they could begin corybantic screwing on the bed.

Dean fell on top of Faith more through good luck than good management. She grasped his freed engorged cock, guiding it immediately between her parted thighs as he lay sprawled on top of her attacking her mouth with the subtlety of piranhas engaged in a feeding frenzy.

Dean penetrated and withdrew his shaft from her body core’s hot slick enclosure of himself, slowing down his angry thrusts as Faith’s returning kisses on his mouth changed tempo becoming tender. The used their bodies to say everything they never could with spoken words to make everything all right between them.

***

Faith needed to know who sent the anonymous letter to Dean. She couldn’t believe Marcus would do that, he was the type of man to come straight out with things not send unsigned mail but what other suspect was there?

She arrived unannounced at his parents’ bungalow in the suburbs the next day. She endured the awkwardness of drinking numerous weak cups of tea, whilst expressing sympathy about the death of the family member which caused her ex-husband’s return to Ireland to Marcus Sullivan's embarrassed parents who never understood why their son left her in the first place.

Marcus showed up eventually and they both took private refuge in the back garden together, aware of the twitch of the curtains in the living room as his parents spied on them unable to help themselves.

“It wasn’t me sorry, Faithie.” Marcus apologized to her sincerely. “I couldn’t handle it when I found out the truth after doing that fecking stupid web search on your name that night. But like I told you at the time, I don’t wish you ill, Faith. I never did.”

Faith reluctantly believed him, so again who the fuck did send Dean the letter? Who hated her so much they wanted to ruin her life like that?

***

Faith trained very occasionally with Siobhan’s watcher, Craig Montgomery at his house to keep her fitness levels up. Craig never could properly surprise Faith when they practiced self defense moves but they got on well, always going out for a cheap ethnic meal together afterwards. Dean was invited to join them at an Indian curry house tonight but declined. The most adventurous his taste buds got was ordering sweet and sour pork.

“Did Dean get that letter Buffy Summers sent him by the way?” Craig asked Faith as they sparred together that Wednesday early evening in his nicely kitted out training room.

“Buffy?” Faith ducked Craig’s attack with a cricket bat. “What letter?”

“She posted this letter to me with another letter inside with Dean’s name on it, and asked me to slip the envelope under the door of his auto-repair shop in top secrecy on Monday morning. Then to check with you he got it when I next saw you. Bloody weird, but she is a weird woman. I’ve always thought so.” Craig swung at her again.

Faith snatched the cricket bat away from him violently, getting in his face. “Buffy?!”

***

Faith lay on the floor of her apartment her feet up on the living room couch. Dean picked over car parts on a spread newspaper on the coffee table.

“Buffy, why the hell does Buffy Summers still hate you?” Dean asked puzzled on her return to their apartment and her angry revelation of who sent the anonymous letter. “I know you sided with Mayor Wilkins and tried to knock boots with her vampire boyfriend. That is truly disgusting by the way, sweetheart. But gotta confess I’ve kissed demons, who am I to throw stones?”

“Yeah? When?” Faith raised her eyebrow off-tracked by curiosity.

‘This May to seal the deal on selling my soul most recently’. “Every once in a while, normally the chicks are possessed and I don’t realize until too late.” Dean breezed polishing a sprocket. “But back to Buffy, didn’t you two kiss and make up four years ago?”

“Sorta. But we can never be friends, not us. Not after what I did to her. I tried to frame the chick for manslaughter.” Faith made a face of self disgust at her fucking cowardice and stupidity at trying to make B. take the rap for what Faith did. “Then I smacked around her mom and little sis, did other foul shit to her when I came out of my coma.” ‘I screwed her college boyfriend using her body to do it’.”

Faith commented grimly. “She musta thought she was doing the right thing, wouldn’ta thought hate mail would be B.’s style, but who do you know ever? It doesn’t matter, I’m just gonna leave it. I haven’t seen her face to face for over three years - I’m completely happy not to rock the boat on this one.”

“Scared you’ll flip out on her?” Dean guessed accurately, packing away his engine parts. Faith got pissed off when he left oily newspaper on the coffee table. Why? Chicks were weird.

“One of us’ll end up dead.” Faith nodded in confirmation. Realistically probably Faith, truthfully Buffy would always keep her head more in a physical fight between them, even though Faith was slightly stronger and grew up fighting dirty. “And it wouldn’t be fair to Dawnie to leave her all alone in the world like that.”

***
Late August 2007
Dublin Ireland

One Thursday night Dean finally received the phone call from Sam he’d been hanging out for. Sam had managed with Jo’s help to save Dean’s soul. Bookwork pure and simple in the end combined with Sammy’s lawyer’s mind for twisting things to suit him freed Dean. What a frickin’ relief.

Sam and Jo would both coming over to Dublin that weekend to celebrate finishing their watcher training, Dean leaned in the bathroom doorway and informed Faith.

“Great, maybe you can run a vacuum cleaner around the living room so they’re not gonna sleep on the carpet covered in your potato chip crumbs.” Faith suggested to Dean as she got ready to go out to a nightclub for her regular monthly cull of the rave fancying undead. “You plug it into the wall and flick the down switch to turn it on.”

Jesus, so okay, Dean spent all his adult life being picked up after by hotel cleaners and was therefore domestically useless but Faith was not his freaking maid. Faith had a horror of squalor as opposed to mess (it reminded her too much of life with her mom) and Dean could be wicked gross. She totally believed Sam now that Dean left his socks to soak in a kitchen sink last year.

“Maybe you could put friggin’ clothes on before you leave the house.” Dean muttered under his breath as he turned to go.

“What?” Faith paused in applying her eyeliner. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Dean didn’t see why Faith had to dress like a freaking slut when she went out clubbing, who was she trying to attract? Vampires just wanted healthy meals right? Not a cocktease before the blood cocktail.

“Then why did you say it, bud?” Faith opened her mouth wide to apply her mascara. Asshole. Her ex-boyfriends in Ireland used to like the way she dressed to go out, but not Dean. Christ, Dean was boring when it came to what was his idea of a good night on the town.

***

“Where were you?” Faith asked Dean as he came into their bedroom.

“At Megan’s.” Dean took his clothes off dumped them on the floor and got into bed beside her. “I was getting a blow up mattress for Sam off her.”

“Until two-thirty?” Faith had been looking at the time on the alarm clock wondering where the Hell he’d been. Dean couldn’t stop compulsively sleazing over every female he met. Her friend Caitlyn had even commented on it.

“Yeah, I got into a conversation with her room-mate about cars.” Dean put his head down on the pillow. It was very late and he needed to put in eight hours of hard work – yet again. The monotony of his working life made him want to go crazy sometimes.

“Cars…” Faith didn’t sound like she didn’t believed him.

Screw her, suspicious bitch. Megan was the only friend in Ireland Dean had made who wasn’t friends with Faith first and it gave him a sort of independence from her. Because everything was Faith’s here, her furniture, her anti-American friends, her anal retentive housework routines and it was starting to matter.

***
Of course Dean was so tired from being out late he fell asleep on the couch when he got home from work; he hadn’t damn well done anything to clean up the apartment before he left panicked to pick up Sam and Jo from the ferry terminus that Friday night.

Thus Faith found herself on her knees in the bathroom, scouring the fucking shower with cleaning product before Sam and Jo arrived on Friday evening. She sponged off grime from the floor of the shower stall resentfully. Three months Dean had been living with her and she didn’t think he’d cleaned the toilet once. It didn’t matter so much when Sam stayed but it did with Jo sleeping the weekend. Other chicks always noticed things like basic hygiene. Not that Faith gave a shit what people thought of her - she rinsed Dean’s whiskers off the bathroom basin with her sponge. Couldn’t the guy ever clean up after himself? It was starting to really matter to her.

***

It was bad timing Dean thought, real bad timing, that Faith should come home from work Saturday afternoon at just that point in time.

“Thanks Jo, you risked your neck for me.” Dean shared with Jo gratefully as they unloaded the dishwasher together. “I’d never want your blood on my conscience.”

“It’s okay.” Jo smiled up at him worshipfully. Lamebrain - she’d do anything to help him. Didn’t he realize that?

“No, I mean it - thanks.” Dean bent down to put a pot away at the same moment Jo did. They banged heads.

“Ouch crap. You okay?” Dean rubbed the emerging lump on her forehead sympathetically.

“Yeah, ow,” Jo glanced up at him dazed, her temple throbbing.

Faith unlocked the door and walked in to see Dean with his hand on Jo’s head. Jo gazing into his eyes.

Faith said nothing. She just looked. She entered her bedroom and stripped off her work uniform. She walked out into the main room again clad in her normal clothes.

“So you guys wanna go out to dinner at a restaurant tonight or what?” Faith smiled jovially. “Or would you like it if me and Sam went out by ourselves, so you two can stay behind and fuck?”

***

Misunderstanding cleared up everyone went out to dinner. Craig and Megan were invited along to make up numbers and diffuse tension.

Dean wanted Sam to meet Megan anyway, because contrary to his bitch girlfriend’s paranoia he didn’t have the hots for Megan.

“Faith, there's nothing going on between me and Dean, okay?” Jo came out onto the footpath outside the Italian restaurant to join her strange hostess.

“I said I had a crap afternoon.” Faith felt embarrassed at her paranoid over reaction. Just because she pulled shit like that with Buffy in the past, left no reason to suspect Jo of single white femaling her. Faith inhaled on her cigarette. She truly did have a crap afternoon in the florist shop. Thank god Craig gave Faith the much needed smoke. And he and Jo seemed to click tonight, so threat diluted.

Jo didn’t understand Faith half the time, Jo was tanked and in an effusive sharing mode. “Hey, why did you send Buffy Summers new boyfriend that anonymous letter?”

“Me?” Faith tapped her ash into the outside ashtray container.

“I found out from Daniel Wilson. He said you sent him this letter that said she used to let a vampire handcuff her during sex.” Jo and Buffy Summers new boyfriend, the New Watcher’s Council accountant, caught the same morning train to the Council premises every day and had become very friendly in the past three months.

“Daniel who?” Faith didn’t have a clue what Jo was on about.

“Buffy said she was gonna come over next week and have it out with you.” Jo wobbled slightly in the street. “Said you must be crazy again and she just felt sorry for you.”

“B’s coming to Ireland?” Faith was feeling more bewildered by the second.

“Yeah.” Jo stared at a doubled Faith cross eyed.

A tranquilizer dart hit Jo first, the second one took out Faith.
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NEM-1:What the hell am I doing here? [May. 23rd, 2007|06:44 am]
***
Late June 2007
Dublin
***

Liverpool lay miles or kilometers behind him, Dean leaned over the white steel pole railing of the seacat ferry, gazing pensively at the calm blue waters of the Irish Sea. Rupert Giles warned Dean the water could get choppy but Dean’s motion sickness band worn around his wrist proved unnecessary so far.

He’d done it, reached Dublin to rejoin Faith, almost. Perhaps the last great con of Dean’s life, persuading the folks in Cleveland, Ohio, that he, Sam and Jo wanted to become watchers. Which meant fake ID for Dean and Sam rustled up by the bruja on the payroll at the Cleveland base and a free flight to London for the interview.

Dean suspected he might have been knocked off the pedestal Jo put him on after she witnessed Dean’s flight phobia in a British Airways economy class cabin during mild turbulence.

Unlike the Winchesters Jo really did want to become a watcher. The day she met Andrew Wells in Mexico and found out exactly what a modern watcher’s duties entailed proved life changing for her. She could kill demons, help humanity and get paid for doing so. Alright! Jo hoped to get allocated a slayer in the Caribbean, once trained - golden sands and voodoo priests you couldn’t get a more exciting combination than that. Plus she’d be close enough to Ellen to fly home for every Thanksgiving and Christmas celebration.

His brother reluctantly went along with Dean’s devious scheme finally persuaded with the ultimate carrot of finding some way to get Dean out of his pact with the crossroads demon with the resources of the New Watcher’s Council library available to Sam for the next three months. The previous years of training needed to become a watcher thrown out the window due to the massive influx of slayers in the world.

Dean out of curiosity legitimately went through with the screening interview. Rupert Giles impressed with him, said Dean possessed the ruthlessness, ingenuity and experience needed to be a watcher as well as a clear sense of responsibility. Dean flunked the written test on purpose. Although Latin could be learned on the job people needed basic reading and writing skills to be watchers and Dean thought his paragraph on what do teenage girls need: Luv, kare, and kindness and a heck of a lot of guydence, quite masterful in its faked illiteracy.

Dean could see Sam every second weekend for the next three months. Dean and Faith could decide at the end of the time period if there was any point Dean sticking around further. If it didn’t work out with Faith he could go on to Amsterdam and smoke grass in comfort with a long black in a sidewalk coffeehouse like he’d always wanted to and then fly home.

Not that Dean had a home unless you counted his Dad’s Impala now stored safely at Bobby’s. Bobby had written Dean a reference saying Dean worked in his scrap-yard for the past two years and also forged him an auto mechanics certificate. Qualifications – tricky, Dean didn’t have any and Ireland needed nurses, IT specialists and construction workers not demon hunters.

Dean squared his conscience with not telling Faith about the fact he only had ten months to live (as they made mundane practical immigration plans over the telephone for him during the last two weeks) with the fact they might not work out together so no harm done. By the end of three months Sam surely would have found a way to save Dean so what Faith never knew wouldn’t hurt her.

The ferry crossing took eight hours before it disembarked in Dublin at six o’clock. Dean carried his bulging backpack through customs and went out into the arrivals terminus.

Faith wasn’t there to meet him. Dean didn’t have a cell phone on him anymore to contact her so he waited.

And waited.

He used a public phone booth buying a phone card at the kiosk with the unfamiliar currency now occupying his wallet. Faith’s cell phone switched to automatic answering instantly. Okay.

She did want him to be with her didn’t she? Or was this a subtle hint as to how unimportant he would be to her here.

Dean waited some more.

A crowd of people flooded the terminus disembarking from a ferry from France, they cleared. Still no Faith. Dean was on the verge of buying a fricking Clive Cussler book from the news-stand when she finally showed up.

“Dean!” Faith sprinted towards him dressed in black leather like some biker chick, her hair all mussed and scratches down her face. “Shit, I’m so sorry, baby. Werewolves.”

Dean wrapped his arms around the leather clad missile flying into his arms. Their mouths met in a relieved kiss of love and joy and all Dean’s fears disappeared.

***

“This is Siobhan and her watcher Craig.” Faith introduced Dean to the curious and battered looking occupants of the Volvo waiting outside the terminus for them. “Dean.”

“Welcome to Dublin, mate.” Craig Montgomery leaned his hand over his car seat and shook hands swiftly. Craig was stocky, in his early thirties and originally from Sydney, Australia.

“Thanks.” Dean became aware of Faith gesturing for him to put on his seatbelt. Oh yeah, an 800 Euro fine for Craig if Dean didn’t. Ireland seemed worse than Canada, as far as seatbelt laws and other petty restrictions on people’s personal freedoms went. Getting hold of a shotgun here would require a lot of paperwork.

“So did you meet Buffy Summers while you were in London?” Siobhan twisted around and asked Dean excitedly.

“Uh yeah, once in passing.” Dean couldn’t believe how much the famous woman looked like his mother of all people.

“Isn’t she fecking amazing?” Siobhan enthused. “Her clothes, her motivational speeches, I listen to them on tape before I go to sleep every night.”

“Must cure insomnia better than a prescription downer.” Faith couldn’t resist commenting. She wondered how hot Dean found B., hotter than Faith?

“I didn’t hear her make a speech.” Dean confessed to a disappointed Siobhan. Buffy Summers didn’t seem the type to cat fight. Dean believed Faith’s account of what happened to put her in a coma less and less.

“You were only in London for half a day weren’t you?” Craig pulled out into the main traffic of Dublin.

“Yeah.” Dean tried not to flinch at everyone driving on the wrong side of the road, it was difficult to escape the feeling they were going to have a head on collision any minute.

“That’d be why.” Craig pronounced mysteriously. “I’m dropping Siobhan off home first or her Dad’s going to hit the roof again.”

Siobhan started to excitedly point out famous landmarks to Dean and he responded with pretended interest. Dublin appeared a confusing mass of gray stone and red brick to him in the street light lit darkness.

Faith loved Dean in a regular mainstream hearts and flowers way, the guy made her heart race when he kissed her, made her come like a freight train often, made her laugh, blah, blah, woof, woof, but she couldn’t work out why Dean wanted to be with her. Faith knew she was a good fuck, had a good body, could be entertaining when she put her mind to it, but why did Dean love her enough to drop everything and come be with her?

***

“And this is it, home sweet dump.” Faith unlocked the door to her third floor apartment. “I didn’t get a chance to clean up today. There’s the bedroom through that door, there’s the bathroom through that one,” Faith pointed to two closed doors. “And this, in case you couldn’t work it out by the couches and coffee table, is the living room.”

Dean had seen worse, she was messy but then so was he. The second thing that immediately caught his eye was the lampshade she’d purchased when they were in the furniture warehouse in Michigan; the first was the salt lining her living room window and the ward of protection charm nailed up over her doorway.

“What gives?” Dean dumped his backpack down in the middle of the living room.

“I have a vamp that wants to kill me, above and beyond. Phillip? I told you about him, huh?” Faith removed a pile of folded washing off the couch for him to sit on. “He’s still sending zombies around to try and freak me out from time to time.”

“Thoughtful.” Dean watched her walk over to her kitchen area. He nodded as she held up a beer from the fridge.

“I explained the last one away to my new neighbors as a stalker ex-boyfriend.” Faith brought him over his beer and sat down beside him. Phillip’s mind games were something else. Did he want her dead or not? It was easy enough for Faith to destroy the zombies but real inconvenient to keep disposing of the bodies before her neighbors came across the decapitated corpses in the communal lobby.

Dean put his arm around her shoulder. “I can take out any zombies for you from now on in. Least I can do seeing you don’t have any lawns for me to mow.”

“Thanks for the offer, be wicked useful.” Faith rested her head against his shoulder. Dean was here in her living room, sitting on her couch, bizarre. She never believed he’d follow through with what he promised, so few guys did. “Do you want dinner, shower, sex, a tour of the city? It’ll have to be on foot ‘cause I haven’t got a new car yet.”

No car… public transport: catching the train from London to Liverpool frustrated Dean used to his own schedules not giant corporations. “I ate on the ferry.”

Dean rummaged through his backpack and produced a black zip folder with his personal documents. “Speaking of sex I got this.” He held out a piece of paper to her. “A medical clinic printout clearing me of all gifts that keep on giving.”

“Let the good times roll.” Faith took off her jacket and flicked through Dean’s folder. Dean looked aghast at the bruises on her bare arms. No wonder she ran late tonight.

“This reference is great, Dean baby.” Faith skim read Bobby’s job recommendation letter, “A work of freakin' fantasy that’d make J.K. Rowling jealous.” Would Dean adjust to living here with her?

***

“Yeah, sweetheart so friggin’ good.” Dean moaned deliriously as Faith’s pussy clenched tightly around his cock. He hitched her ass up with his hands, her legs were wrapped around his waist, her body arched back against the tiled wall of the shower. He sucked on her throat the hot streaming water ran over them.

Faith felt sure at that moment everything would work out fine between them.

***

“You’ve no TV?” This was the first thing Dean noticed in horror about Faith’s bedroom.

“Uh I did have one, but it got broken in storage.” Faith came in to the bedroom naked apart from a towel wrapped around her wet hair. Was this a problem? “There’s the TV in the living room. I don’t have cable.” She couldn’t afford it, Dublin was an expensive city to live in.

No cable. Dean didn’t mind.

“So no American Sport, sorry lover.” Faith showed him the drawers she’d emptied for him in her dresser. “You’ll have to get into Gaelic football or take up watching British soap operas.” She was joking about Dean but Faith was quite partial to the evening serial Coronation Street herself and its sensational depiction of Manchester working class life. She taped it regularly after her previous boss hooked her onto it. Faith couldn’t see Dean enjoying the program it surprised Faith how much she’d got drawn into it.

No American Sport… it didn’t matter. Dean put his clothes away in the empty drawers.

***

The radio alarm clock went off. ‘I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo, I don’t belong here, what the hell am I doing here.’ Radiohead sang cheerfully to Dublin’s early risers.

Faith slammed her hand down on the alarm’s silence button and leapt out of bed. She scrambled into her underwear and pulled on the synthetic uniform for her job in a chain store florist’s in a city shopping arcade.

Dean opened his eyes blearily and looked at the time. Six thirty.

“Help yourself to whatever ya want. See you at six this evening.” Faith snatched up her purse and took off to the bathroom.

Was that it from her? No – ‘I love you’? Dean stretched out in bed. He needed to look for a job today. Oh joy. It should be a walk in the park right? He was personable, clean shaven once more, he got on well with everyone when he put on his charm act.

Faith ran back into the room and planted a firm good-bye kiss on his lips. She grinned at him and ran out again.

***
Early July 2007
***

The grease would never entirely leave his hands with soap alone. Dean’s hands were clean enough to eat his lunch. He walked over to the café opposite the auto mechanics where he worked and ordered a toasted sandwich and coffee for his late afternoon lunch.

He sat down on a white plastic chair and picked up somebody else’s discarded newspaper left on the white plastic table. He checked for mysterious deaths out of habit.

“There now, Dean.” The red headed café attendant leaned over him with his lunch. Megan wore a low cut top under her apron and no bra.

“You going to join me again? You’re not that busy.” Dean hooded his eyes and watched her melt.

“I’m flat off me feet.” Megan blushed, collected dirty plates and wiped down an empty table with furious energy. “Did you catch the news on telly last night? The price of bloody petrol’s going up again they say.”

“Yeah, bummer.” Dean hoped he wasn’t going to be subjected to another anti-American tirade about the Gulf War pushing up gas prices. Did Dean tell George W. what to do? Dean never voted in his life so how could he be held responsible for anything to do with American foreign affairs?

“Still wanting to buy a car? Because my flatmate’s flicking his cheap.” Megan batted her thick eyelashes. “I’ll give you a lift to our flat tonight, you live near me.”

“Thanks.” Dean tore apart his toasted sandwich. “I’ll take you up on it.” The car could be freaking Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or Herbie the Love Bug for all Dean cared by this stage, Dean just needed his own transport again instead of catching a bus to work.

***
Mid July 2007
***

Dean had company at the dinner table. Unlike Dean, Siobhan and Craig weren’t eating they were waiting for Faith.

“You eat like a kid like Faith does.” Siobhan propped her hands on her chin fascinated and stared at Dean forking food into his mouth.

“Jesus, Siobhan let the man eat his dinner in peace, yeah?” Craig turned around the screen on his laptop. “See, it’s that vampire I tell you.”

“Well you eat with your knife and fork together fecking normal like.” Siobhan told Craig not taking her eyes off Dean chewing his beef sausage resolutely.

“I’m an Aussie, darl of course I’m bloody normal. Focus,” Craig stabbed his finger on the screen. “This vampire, it’s the one you saw.”

“No it’s not, idiot.” Siobhan watched intensely Dean eat his boiled peas using his fork like a spoon. “Don’t you know how to prong them, Deano?”

“I’m gonna prong you.” Dean wished the hell Faith would finish getting ready and depart with Siobhan and Craig, leaving him to watch TV in peace. There was this evening English Soap Opera called Eastenders about blue collar joes and lowlifes in London that was kinda entertaining and it started soon. He didn’t think Faith would understand it’s appeal to him. He couldn’t explain Eastenders appeal to himself it was truly addictive however.

Faith came out of the bedroom without clothes on. No - Faith wore clothing, how dumb of him Dean just found it hard to see the miniscule slip of material she called a dress against all her exposed flesh. Why maybe he needed glasses.

“Night clubbing?” Dean smiled at Faith warmly, he didn’t want to come off as an insecure jealous jerk.

“Uh huh, brat’s gonna stake them as they exit through the fire escape tonight after I’ve lured the vamps outside.” Faith retrieved and hooked into her earlobes heavy silver earrings from the china odds and ends bowl on the table. “So your friend Megan gave you those sausages from her old man’s butcher’s shop to try? Nice of her.” Faith didn’t wanna appear a paranoid bitch.

***
Late July 2007
***
Sweet tooth about to be satisfied both Faith and Dean pushed their way out from the crowd mobbing the ice–cream van, continuing their discussion as they walked among the manicured greenery of the Irish National Botanic Gardens..

“The check’s in the mail, I won’t come in your mouth. Two of the great lies, Dean.” Faith licked her dripping ice-cream cone as they walked across the soft grass together in the sun.

Dean bit into his double scoop ice-cream cone. “I’m from the government I’m here to help, I’ll call, this won’t hurt a bit. That’s five.” He halted to allow a Border Collie race past him chasing a Frisbee.

“I’ll respect you in the morning, six.” Faith’s sunglasses were acting as a temporary hair-band or else her hair would be falling in her ice-cream due to a sudden warm gusty breeze.

Dean grinned at her struggle to keep her hair out of her ice cream. “I love you.” Dean deposited a fond kiss on her chilled mouth. “Seven.”

***
Early August 2007
***

Faith shoved Dean’s grease and ectoplasm stained overalls out of the way (she was happy for him he discovered a nearby haunted house but couldn’t he ever locate the fucking laundry basket too?) and sat down on the couch to watch her latest taped episode of Coronation Street.

She pulled out her knitting bag and needles, dropping numerous stitches in the vicarious excitement of the half hours viewing of the clothing factory workers walk out in a wild cat strike, and the married corner shop proprietor having an affair with the pub barmaid, asshole.

She heard the door unlock and quickly switched off the TV set, turning the stereo on with the remote controls. XFM 107 Dublin’s alternative radio station played ACDC’s ‘let there be rock.’

“Hi honey we’re home.” Dean walked in the door with Sam. “Hey, new sweater?” God, how freaking hideous her latest creation was gonna be. "Looks uh warm."

***

The local supermarket was like any supermarket back in the States, apart from every grocery item being in metric measurement.

“Dude, get this brand of tuna, it’s cheaper.” Sam grabbed the can off the shelf and placed it in Dean’s shopping cart.

“It’s not dolphin friendly. Faith cares about that crap not me.” Dean lied he put the can back on the shelf and replaced it with the brand that promised it didn’t use driftnets. Dolphins were the only species apart from humans that screwed for fun. Dean nursed a secret soft spot for them.

“And you’re whipped.” Sam crowed in triumph.

“No. Faith doesn’t care what I do. We had a blow up fight when I put my tools in the dishwasher but apart from that its been smooth sailing.” Dean grabbed three cans of baked beans. “I think she musta had PMS she went nuts.”

“Morning Dean.” A neighbor walked past him with a wave.

“Hey Rita.” Dean jerked his cart a front wheel kept jamming. Rita was a nice lady, very friendly.

“So it’s been worth it, coming here for you?” Sam probed. “Giving up hunting and leading an honest life?”

“I haven’t given up hunting.” Dean answered shortly. “I keep my hand in, help Faith, Siobhan and Craig occasionally. Kill a zombie nearly every damn week.”

“Yeah, Phillip. The New Watcher’s Council think he’s in Central Europe.” Sam kept pushing, “But working for the man everyday, Dean that’s got to be killing you.”

“Everyone else manages it, Dad used to. Only way to stay in Ireland as a permanent resident - have a job.” Dean leaned over the frozen goods aisle, tossing in frozen TV dinners. “So I hope you can find a freaking solution quick Sammy because I can’t tell Faith the truth in case it causes you to drop dead on the spot and I’ll still go to Hell. I hate lying to her but what else can I do?”

***
Mid August 2007
***

Dean sat in a roomy booth in a crowded pub on a Friday night with a group of Faith’s friends. They were almost his too by now, Dean had been invited separately by the guys to do male bonding crap with them from time to time. The long daylight hours of Dublin’s summer made vamp numbers very seasonally low. Faith didn’t need to patrol tonight. Siobhan holidayed in France with her family.

“And you all have unnaturally white teeth and talk all the bloody time.” Craig thought that finished summing up nicely why the rest of the world hated Americans.

“And don’t forget… Jaysus, can’t remember.” Fenian a young plumber, fretted sozzled. “Whose round is it?”

“Yours, dude.” Dean drained his beer back. God, it got old fast hearing how crap America was by people wearing NYC baseball caps back the front. Dean missed so much about his homeland except being a wanted fugitive. “Don’t let us stop you crawling up to the bar.”

“Don’t mind them.” Caitlyn a kindergarten assistant soothed Faith and Dean concerned their feelings might be hurt. “They talk out of their arses half the time.”

“They couldn’t find their asses with a flashlight to begin with.” Faith twirled her beer mat around on the wooden table reminding herself she had given up smoking for good.

“Christ Faith, isn’t that your ex up at the bar?” Craig whistled surprised.

Seamus? Oh fuck! Marcus Sullivan Faith’s ex husband. Why wasn’t Marcus safely in Thailand? And why was Fenian that retarded dick, bringing him back to their booth?

Dean finally got to meet Faith’s mysterious ex-husband back in Dublin, for a family funeral.

The guy was not how Dean imagined he would be. He was slightly shorter than Dean, same build and coloring. A chef by trade, Marcus was (Dean hated to admit it) okay. Marcus stayed for a quick civilized drink (Marcus and Faith were oh so civilized) and then left them to rejoin his other arriving friends.

Faith ‘borrowed’ one of Craig’s cigarettes later that evening but otherwise did or said nothing out of the ordinary, except commenting Marcus was water under the fucking bridge as Faith and Dean walked home from the pub at closing time.

Dean wished he knew just why the guy left Faith the day after their wedding. Why the hell would you do that to a woman?

No zombie lurked outside their apartment building tonight.

Faith launched herself on Dean in a frenzied sexual attack the minute they were through their apartment’s front door.

Dean also wished he knew what went on in her head sometimes. He loved Faith completely but felt she always held a part of herself back from him. Man, he hoped Sam could save him maybe she picked up on Dean’s terrible secret.

But Dean was to gain fascinating unwelcome insight into what went on in Faith’s head. The next Monday at work he received an anonymous letter which he should have screwed up but he didn’t. On the computer printed A4 sheet were the words. “Download America’s Most Wanted: Episode December 06/03."

So when he got back home to his apartment Dean found the website on the computer and Holy Shit there was an article about an escaped convict named Faith Lehane. Faith - the most evil psychotic bitch a guy could possibly come across, or have been sleeping with for the past two months.
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Chapter Fourteen: If you want my love you've got it [May. 22nd, 2007|07:24 pm]
***
Northern Mexico 



***
The change from the United States to Mexico was immediate, wild dogs in the street, shanty towns and yellow billboards. The roads were dusty and the landscape sped by the Impala’s window bearing uncanny resemblance to all the Speedy Gonzales cartoons Jo watched on Saturday mornings as a kid.

“Not Kansas, huh Toto?” Dean confirmed Jo’s impression, winking at her in the driving mirror.

“No.” Jo could see why her mom insisted they bring groceries from Canada along. Montezuma’s revenge made a whole lot of sense to Jo now. This was awesome! Jo had never been out of Nebraska before her twentieth birthday, the most far afield she’d been in the States so far at twenty two was Michigan and Philadelphia. Now she’d been to Canada and Mexico in one week. Hunting rocked.

***
“Go ahead and do your stuff, Sam you’re the one who speaks Spanish.” Dean pulled the Impala over to park beside Bobby at the first cheap roadside hotel they came across. “Let’s see you put that spring break experience in Cancun to good use.”

“If we sleep here today and travel at night we’re gonna run into Mexican vamps sooner or later.” Faith grabbed her bag from the Impala’s trunk impatiently, once the rooms were sorted. “You might wanna start wearing a cross instead of that freaking amulet that keeps hitting me in the eye when we screw.”

“Is something eating you?” Dean asked her when they were alone together in their clean but shabby hotel room on the same floor as the others.

“More a case of what’s gonna be eating you or tearing you into bloody lumps of meat when you die.” Faith drew the hotel room curtains shut against the late afternoon sun. “You cast a resurrection spell to bring Sam back didn’t you? It’s why ya so stressed out ‘bout him switching teams on us.”

“The spell worked, Faith.” Dean leaned one arm against the wall and pulled his shoes and socks off, avoiding looking at her. So near and yet so far with her conclusion.

“You’re risking a hell dimension when you pass on, dick, casting a spell like that.” Faith turned on the faucet over the sink in their room. The communal bathroom lay down the hall. The water flowed rust colored for a second and then clear allowing her to wash her hands and face free of travel grime.

“Not sure I’m such a prime candidate for a halo and wings in the first place.” Dean removed his jeans off and crawled wearily into bed. “What else could I’ve done? He’s my brother.”

“Who coulda come back wrong.” Faith tugged off her own footwear and jeans and joined him in bed. She wanted to slap Dean senseless for risking his soul and Sam’s, but her voice remained level.

“Shut up, Faith.” Dean turned his back on her. “Pet Semetery was avoided. It’s done, worth the risk I took.”

“Because you woulda wound up in Hell anyway you figure?” Faith sat up and pulled her tank top and bra off. “Geez, yah such a mean badass these days - asshole definitely.” She threw her remaining clothes angrily across the room. “Screw you for being so fucked up, Dean.”

The vast majority of adults managed somehow to cope with the death of their loved ones without reanimating them, maybe because they tended to have more than one beloved. They weren’t left all alone like Dean.

“We can’t all be as ‘functional’ as you are, honey and I told you to shut the hell up.” Dean closed his eyes, he needed to sleep. He could be dead soon and then it all became freaking academic.

“Y’know, I don’t have a brother or a sister and I can never walk a mile in your shoes, but I have one thing left to say before I shut up for good about this shit.” Faith shook him hard once on the upper arm to make him move his head around to make eye contact with her.

“And what’s that?” Dean waited for some final bitch comment from her brought on through her fear for him.

“I’m wicked sorry for you, Dean.” Faith dropped her hand, rolled over so her bare back faced him, closed her eyes and prepared to sleep as well.

Dean couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere. His exhaustion made him not care either way and he fell fast asleep.

***

Dean opened his eyes, twisting his head to see Faith sitting up beside him drinking out of her water bottle. She passed it over to him and he sipped the cool liquid slowly down.

Faith leaned her head against the wooden bedpost, thinking. She planned to come clean with Seamus about Dean if she returned alive to Ireland. Leaving it up to Seamus to break up with her if he wanted, meaning Faith’s conscience would be clear. For the first time since she reunited with Dean Winchester in a log cabin in Michigan, nearly three weeks ago, Faith felt safely back on Sanity Street, a quiet address she dwelt in nowadays handy to her daily commute along The Rocky to Redemption.

Dean passed her plastic water bottle back to her, brushing his hand against her bare breast; his fingers lingered on the smooth warmth of her skin.

Faith twitched her eyebrows suggestively. “Do you wanna screw before we hit the road?”

“Quickie?” Dean glanced at the time on his watch. They were meeting the others downstairs in half an hour.

“Hard, fast and heavy.” Faith scrambled out of her panties, throwing off her part of the sheet.

“You’re the best pretend girlfriend in the world, baby.” Dean praised her as she scooted to the edge of the bed, knelt on the mattress and bent over the bed, fumbling for the condom packet in her bag on the floor. His view of her raised naked rear presenting like a primate in heat increased his copulating urge more dramatically yet.

Faith pulled a foil wrapper out of the packet, they were running low she noted. “Ain’t I just?” Faith pitied Dean profoundly earlier that afternoon, she supposed in some screwed up way (the story of her life) she must be in achingly in love with him again.

***

A group of twelve vampires set up a road block in a desert canyon, attacking Dean and Bobby’s vehicles, and a lone Mexican farmer in his pick up truck.

“You’re stronger than you used to be.” Sammy observed to Faith, holding a bloodied pad to Dean’s throat once the carnage ended.

Dean leaned against the outside of the Impala, endeavoring to feel a secure modern male about the fact his five-foot six girlfriend just saved his life. Dean knew Faith was a vampire slayer intellectually; he unlike Sam never got the opportunity to physically see her rip and pummel vampires to screaming, groveling shreds until tonight.

“Yep, better, stronger, faster and it didn’t take six million bionic bucks to achieve, just age.” Faith brushed the vampire dust off her clothing. “I’m at my physical peak according to this Watcher dude back in Ireland, ask your big brother.”

Dean leered at her in appreciative agreement. Thank God he’d always kept himself in shape, he didn’t quite realize until tonight how easily Faith could break him in bed if she wanted to, or snap his neck out of it. Dean Winchester, daily made love to one of the scariest, hottest women in the world. His sexual self esteem, one of the few healthy areas’ in his psyche shot through the roof.

“You’re less acrobatic. No back flips.” Sam clarified, removing the bandage and splashing holy water from a small bottle onto Dean’s cut.

“Son of a bitch, go easy.” Dean hissed with pain, the torn flesh around his throat smoking.

Faith found her prowess for somersaulting in mid-air somewhat diminished after her escape from prison aged twenty-two, but B. still rocked at doing them. “My bad, I thought I was saving you guys’ lives not putting on a show.”

“I thought I saved our lives.” Sam screwed the cap back on the bottle of holy water.

“Your telekinesis pissed the vamps off, didn’t dust them.” Faith cooed indulgently at Sam, knowing being patronized would get under his skin if she did it right. “But throwing the amigo undead against the canyon wall with the power of your upraised hand almost looked cool. Chicks boy-shorts will get wet in ya next bar fight.”

“I cut off the victim’s head, two strokes.” Jo came back to join them, pale faced even for her. “So he wouldn’t turn.” One word – arrgh! But Johanna Beth Harvelle went through with it without spewing all over Bobby Singer’s boots like the little trooper she was.

Dean gave Jo a heart stopping smile of approval and Jo fell in love with him just a little bit more.

***

Dean felt hunky dory about everything for a freaking god damn change when he woke up the next day in a roadside tavern’s bedroom. Sam managed to display the most kick ass telekinetic power Dean ever laid eyes on last night without turning evil.

And now Faith kiss-licked her way affectionately down Dean’s manly chest in steady progress towards his groin, asking him in the low husky voice that guaranteed his cock to stand up stiffly in rapt attention, if her oral administrations made his ravaged neck feel better? Dean couldn’t love Faith more this minute if he tried.

***
Tepic, Nayarit, Mexico
***

The extinct volcano of Sanganguey sinisterly looming over urban Tepic was a demonic accident waiting to happen in Agent Riley Finn’s onion. The special operatives Marine Officer roamed the city’s narrow streets and alleys hand in hand with his wife, both agents undercover, both investigating the disturbing reports of the increased supernatural activity in this sleepy state capital nestled on the banks of a river.

“Three o’clock on your left, sweetie.” Sam Finn pointed to a sinister looking spider scuttling up a near-by adobe wall.

Riley pulled out his semi-automatic and shot the mystic arachnid coolly. It fell to the ground in exploded pieces.

“Those things are like the face huggers off Alien.” Riley holstered his weapon. “The signs are all here, Sam. The spiders, and that rogue slayer I recognized and reported to the New Watchers Council in the United Kingdom this morning, someone’s planning an ascension next weekend.”

***

Sam said Faith tortured demons, seeking information just a little too well for him to ever sleep easy beside her. But Sam wasn’t the one waking up with a cuddly Faith in his arms every morning, Dean was. Just like Dean was the one stroking deeply in and out of her with his cock, each inward bound thrust producing a yelp of pain-pleasure from her as he bruised the top of her cervix. Faith could be freaking strange in the sack sometimes. Dean kissed fondly one of her ankles, her feet pressing against his collar bones, as he screwed her savagely on the floor per her request, his hands digging securely into her upraised hips as he pinned her stationary to the ground.

“Hold on, baby.” Faith poised Dean mid-coitus as she reclined back on the filthy floor where she belonged. (The imminent ascension of either a visiting matador or resort owner resulted in Faith recalling her own involvement in Mayor Wilkins ascension, triggering massive feelings of guilt in her. Fortunately Faith’s shame could always be alleviated by a nice degrading fuck.) She reached behind her and grabbed her hunting knife out of her discarded jeans. She flung it at the spider emerging from a crack in the wall.

According to town gossip the vicious spiders mysteriously turned up everywhere after two delivery trucks collided in the main town square four months ago.

Dean waited until the spider lay dead on the ground before he resumed penetration and withdrawal into Faith's drenched inner core. “Nice shot, sweetheart. You always were good with knives.”

Wrong thing to say. “Harder?” Faith begged Dean. He complied reluctantly, resulting in them both climaxing five minutes later.

“Faith…” Dean pulled her off the floor and encouraged her to lie on the comfortable clean bed with him. The poor chick had dust and dirt all through her hair and carpet burns on her back and ass. He knew they’d rapidly heal but for god’s sake.

“Faith…” Dean needed to tell her this. He refused to chicken out this time. “I love you, I always have.” There, for better or for worse he’d finally told her the truth about how he felt about her. And she was going to take it, how?

Jesus Christ, he had to spoil fucking everything! “Yeah, I know.” Faith replied candidly not withdrawing from his embrace. “And for what it’s worth the feeling’s mutual.” She frowned at Dean’s face lighting up with ecstatic hope. “But so what?”

“We’ve just been honest for one thing.” Dean prepared to kiss her romantically. They’d both just been honest with one another!!!

“Whatever.” Faith didn’t particularly want to be the bearer of the real brutal truth but someone had to be. “If we live, I’m gonna go back to Ireland and you’re going to continue to ghost bust and live off credit card fraud until the Feds catch up with you finally, next verse same as the first. Nothing’s changed between us, Dean. Nothing ever can.”

***
People ran screaming hysterically backwards and forwards in the smoke filled streets. Camera crews started to arrive. Police cars, fire trucks and ambulances hurtled through the main roads, sirens wailing.

The apocalypse had been prevented but the bleeding, dirty, limping, sweaty group that had set out from Canada ten days ago with such good intentions felt kind of redundant in the end.

“Do you feel like we’re a day late and a dollar short?” Bobby nudged Ellen, wiping the sweat from his brow as they walked to where they parked the vehicles.

“When things get sticky send in the marines.” Ellen nimbly stepped over a steak of ascended demon flesh lying smoking on the ground. “And their shamans exorcised the last of the escaped demons most likely, give or take a couple that are probably still free range. Guess we can head on home, I have a roadhouse to get running again.”

“I can hardly wait to get home that’s for real.” Faith nodded in grim support of Ellen’s proposal. Faith was painfully aware of Dean hanging onto her every word; well Winchester could wipe the poorly hidden sadness from his green eyes and get his hand off her waist. Nothing could stop Faith heading back to Ireland on the first flight she could book from Mexico City’s International Airport.

Running into Riley ‘I’m not as straight as you’d first think in bed’ Finn of all the unwelcome blasts from her murky past, showed Faith the whole fucking Continent of North America was too dangerous for her to remain in and stay free. Who knew who’d she’d run into next, a NCWF prison guard on vacation down here with the little missus and kids?

“Hey, wasn’t it something else to see the way the marines stopped the volcano erupting.” Sam chortled with boyish enthusiasm his arm heavy supporting Jo’s weight. “The helicopters and the explosive charges… just awesome wasn’t it?”

“Like something out of Apocalypse Now.” Dean drawled, admirably disguising his panic at the way Faith twisted out from under his arm five minutes ago and now walked resolutely on alone. She was mentally gearing up to leave him already.

Bobby reached over and slapped Sam on the back heartily. “You did good son, exploding that vampire from the inside out attacking Jo, not something a body sees everyday or wants to, come to that.”

“And still not evil there, dude.” Dean praised his kid brother. “Never thought you were gonna ‘tip’…?” It seemed his fears of Sammy coming back wrong were groundless. One last lie from the yellow eyed demon to screw with Dean’s head.

“No, for the last time, jerk, I’m not evil.” Sam continued supporting a hobbling Jo under his arm. Jo blushed embarrassed between her winces of pain, because she severely sprained her ankle falling into a pothole during the solar eclipse two hours ago like some helpless silent movie heroine.

“Nice to know someone definitely isn’t. Hiya Faith.” A cow-girl style dressed Vi sat in gingham and denim cross legged splendor on the cab of Bobby’s truck “How’s it hanging?”

Andrew stood upright beside the Impala, nattily attired in a safari suit. “Oh Faith.” Andrew sighed heavily in full drama queen mode. “Oh silly, silly, geographically challenged Faith, Tepic, Mexico isn’t Cardiff, Wales. And that’s disappointing, because I wanted to visit you there last week.”

“I bet.” Faith wondered if Riley really believed her four days ago when she enlightened him as to her reform. Agent Finn obviously didn’t - snitch.

“I’m serious,” Andrew pouted, putting his hands on his hips. “Cardiff’s where they’ve been filming the new series of Dr. Who and I wanted the latest doctor’s autograph on my Cyberman action figure box.”

Ellen and Jo stared at each other completely baffled. Huh?

Faith bit her lip in irritation at the sight of Rona and Kennedy rounding the corner carrying crossbows. How flattering if fucked to get four Sunnydale Hellmouth survivors as her misguided intervention team.

“In the neighborhood?” Faith dropped her demon blood covered sword immediately on the ground with a clang and held her hands up peacefully. “It’s not how it looks, and uh can we talk in private for a minute?” Faith never wanted to see Dean’s eyes go all cold and repulsed looking at her if he found out the truth about who she used to be.

***

“I’ve got a chopper ride to Mexico City.” Faith came back with her ‘friends’. “So I’m outta here. Nice meeting you folks.” She shook hands quickly with Bobby, Ellen and Jo. None of them were huggers, thank sweet baby Jesus.

Shit, Faith still hadn’t got a chance to pay Sammy back for his trick on her. Win some lose some, no point sweating the small stuff. She allowed herself to be squeezed good-bye by Mr. SNAG. “Ya not evil, Sam.” She whispered in his ear. “I’d stop worrying about it, pal.”

“Wanna sniff my hair good-bye?” Faith accepted her retrieved bag from the Impala’s trunk from Dean's outstretched arm.

“I’m gonna come to you in Ireland.” Dean stepped towards her, shaking Faith angrily by the shoulders, not caring if he hurt her (in any case, she’d seemed really into that shit in Tepic for some strange reason). “I’m gonna see you again.”

“I won’t hold my breath, and if you do arrive on the ninety day tourist stay gig, showing up on my doorstep unannounced, try not to bring the Feds along with you, huh?” Faith made her voice as cold as she could. She didn’t want to say good-bye either but she would never see Dean again for Christ’s sake. How would he manage coming to Dublin?

Faith couldn’t help herself with what she said next, fucking lame and pathetic as it sounded out loud, but it would rock big time if Dean joined her. “There’d be a welcome doormat for ya.”

Dean didn’t know how the hell he was gonna manage getting to her either. But he would find a way. He had ten months left to live and he intended to spend them with Faith and Sam. There must be some freaking solution.

Dean and Faith kissed despairingly farewell with a frantic clash of teeth, seeking lips and intertwining of tongues, oblivious to their squicked out audience of hunters, slayers and watcher. They both loved each other and nothing else should matter but it did.

***************
END OF PART TWO
***************
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Chapter Thirteen:But that ain't getting us nowhere [May. 21st, 2007|07:22 pm]
AN: Although Cornwallis is a real place and so is Tepic, all characters described are fictitious and any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is purely coincidental.

(Scene follows immediately on from last chapter)
***
Halifax, Nova Scotia
***

Faith washed her hands in the bathroom, scrubbing under her fingernails. She splashed cold water on her face, drying her skin roughly with a hand towel. She deserved to be punished because she remained fucking retarded. Didn’t she ever learn?

She turned off the light in the bathroom and crept back to bed, please Baby Jesus, let Dean be asleep.

She discovered Dean to be wide awake naturally, sitting up in bed, waiting for her in the semi-darkness.

The condom packet Faith saw, now rested next to the Insect Killer spray can on the bedside table.

“I’ve killed an innocent man in Missouri.” Dean began to try and explain, drawing back the sheet to invite her back into bed with him. “He was possessed by a demon and attacking Sammy. I shot him in the heat of the moment. So I’d understand a lot, but if you don’t wanna to talk about it, fine. I’m never bringing it up again, and moving things along, out of Brangelina, Tomkat and us who do you think makes the sexiest celebrity couple? If we were movies stars that is.”

“Us totally, if we were a couple that is.” Faith threw herself back into bed and willingly allowed herself to be drawn back fiercely into his arms. “Fean or Daith suck as name blends you realize?”

She pressed her burning forehead on his shoulder. “And I killed someone by mistake, Dean. I staked the poor guy thinking he was a vampire in a dark alley. And not a day goes by I don’t regret it and wanna take it back.” Dean would understand her first murder after all, but she could never tell him about her contract hit. What guy would understand that?

“Faith, it’s okay, huh?” Dean held her so hard he thought he might make her ribs crack. “You were just a kid.” He stroked her hair tenderly, god she actually told him the whole truth for once. What a load off her mind it must be for her. Dean loved Faith more than ever for being so brave as to be straight with him.

***
Cornwallis, Nova Scotia
***

Nestled in the scenic Annapolis Valley of Nova Scotia, Cornwallis didn’t look at first glance like a Hellmouth. But with only two bars and nothing to do in the place apart from fish, visit the local Hydro electrical plant or the tiny military museum, Faith raised in a big city could see it’s immediate resemblance to Hell.

Jo reminded Faith the local amusement park boasted of having the only wooden roller coaster east of Quebec, after the two women returned to the cabin their party rented for the night.

“The park’s only open two months of the year, girlfriend.” Faith sat Red Indian style on the floor, sharpening a stake with a hunting knife over a piece of folded out newspaper, just in case she ran into any vampires tonight. “Don’t let me pass out from the excitement of waiting for it to open in July.”

“Ya being too hard on the place, the tourist farm has skunks, sweetheart. Nothing screams ‘Canada’ like skunks in a cage.” Dean dropped a fond kiss on the top of Faith’s head as he and Bobby returned from their own reconnaissance trip around Cornwallis that afternoon.” “Sammy and Ellen not back yet?”

“They came and left again, Mom wanted to pick up some groceries.” Jo grabbed her hunting knife back off Faith and wet-stoned it back to sharpness.

“We found out the ‘Royal’ Canadian Navy and Air Cadets have their regular camps here, strong EMF readings coming from the whole area Canada’s potential finest are located in, but hey the whole town reads off like it’s the setting for Silkwood.” Dean fetched beers out of the refrigerator for him and Bobby. “Ladies?” He held the beer up in offering.

Both Jo and Faith nodded. Jo held out her hand for a cold one. “That’s what Mom and Sam figured out too, the demons have possessed kids at the cadet camp.”

“We bumped into the slayer who lives here, at the caves by the ocean.” Faith twisted the top off her beer bottle. “Paige Dalgleish her name is, she’d just finished beheading a Kelpie. Said there was nothing new happening in ‘Sunnydale lite’. But there were rumors starting,” Faith put up her fingers in air quotes, still retaining snug hold of the beer bottle. “‘Reoccurring theme’ something weird’s going down at the military brats training base”

Faith hastened to wipe the alarmed expression off Dean’s face. “Relax Dean, the chick isn’t gonna 911 the New Watchers Council, Jo can freaking testify I pretended I was tracking some badass vampire.” God, Dean loved his baby brother beyond all reason, Faith recalled Buffy being over protective of Dawn too and it put her in mind of something, but Jo asking Faith a question attracted her attention away from an emergent idea in Faith’s brain.

“Yeah, she did.” Jo confirmed Faith’s innocence, upraising her beer to her lips. “Paige was in a hurry anyway, migrating Kelpies from Scotland are what kill tourist fishermen every year here, and she needed to dispose of it’s two ‘cubs or pups’?” Jo checked with Faith.

“Pups.” Faith leaned back into Dean sitting down behind her pulling the back of her against his chest, his outstretched legs enclosing her cross-legged ones. “I woulda thought ‘cubs’."

“Yeah, Paige brains them with a baseball bat, they look like seal pups with human baby heads according to her.” Jo made a face and drank more beer imagining it. “They’re helpless at this stage of their life cycle.”

“Feeling sorry for them, Jo-jo? Gonna hunt them out and throw cans of paint over the big soulful eyed critters to save them?” Dean rested his bearded chin on Faith’s shoulder, holding her snugly around the waist.

“We should throw a bucket of paint over you, sonny-boy.” Bobby set out a map he’d obtained of the town and surrounds of Cornwallis, on the cabin’s table. “Guess we just need Ellen and Sam to come back and we’ll come up with a foolproof plan.”

Bobby scratched a mosquito bite on his hairy arm, next getting out of a paper bag a packet of colored pins to stick on the map. “As foolproof as any plan can be with Winchesters on board.”

***

Dean rubbed mosquito repellent over his bare arms, standing on the cabin porch, watching while Faith chain-smoked down the remaining cigarettes in her fresh packet. Seven hours to go until the first of June.

“Dean, I need to use Sam’s lap-top, huh?” Faith informed him in a tone that said this was a demand not a request, putting down her cigarette packet and lighter safely against the outside wall of the cabin. “I need to e-mail people back home or they’re gonna worry.”

People like her boyfriend, and her home was across the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Dean smiled like he didn’t give a crap instead of the whole situation hurting him like shit. “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna read your out-going messages over your shoulder, sorry. So try and make ‘em interesting could ya?”

Dean grinned genuinely at his brother coming out on the porch to hang out his wet underwear and socks on the railing to dry. “The porn sites on the favorite links are all Sam’s, except the ones that are mine, work out whose are whose and I’ll give ya a shoulder massage.”

“No-brainer challenge, Sam’s are gonna be the real filthy ones.” Faith patted Sam condescendingly on the cheek. “Yo, Sam pal, where’s your lap-top? I need to use it.”

“On my bed.” Sam waited until Faith and Dean left. He pulled out from his jeans pocket, the paper bag containing the practical joke aid he’d bought at the town magic shop and peeked into it satisfied. Man, Faith was asking for this. Sam smirked in evil glee thinking about his cunning scheme to annoy Faith for a change.

***

The Royal Canadian Navy Cadet compound did not fall into the category of heavily guarded military bases. Faith volunteered to take out the four perimeter patrollers - keen eyed kids who were practicing being soldiers.

Sweaty headed in her black woolen balaclava, Faith snuck around through the wooded area, disabling and disarming the cadets from their air rifles with ease. A following balaclava wearing Ellen tied them up securely.

The two women signaled to the rest the coast was clear to creep down to the parade yard.

The team carefully collectively spray-painted a devil's trap onto the assembly parade field

Faith and Ellen set fire to the deserted mess hall and waited for the fire alarms to go off in the barracks.

Sleepy cadets and instructors piled onto the parade ground for an emergency roll call.

Dean, Bobby, Joe and Sam read out loud their exorcisms, hidden behind trees, through microphones they hooked up to the loudspeaker systems in the main office, covering all four corners of the parade ground.

Twelve air force cadets writhed, fell to the ground, opened their mouths screaming and allowed black smoke pour forth from their mouths.

“Only a dozen.” Ellen bit her lower lip in disappointment at the scene, from the two women’s covered vantage point. “Well those poor kids were obviously some long term back up plan to begin with. This means we’re gonna have to head south of the border, borders, I guess. That must be where the real action is happening.”

“Ole,” Faith shrugged, putting her crossbow down, what a fucking anti-climax Canada turned out to be. She checked the time on Ellen’s wristwatch - five to twelve. Faith took out the one precious cigarette left in her packet. She’d enjoy this last smoke of her life as she walked back to the vehicles parked a mile away.

Faith placed the Morley’s cigarette (and how fitting the American Brand she’d started smoking on should be the one she finished with ) between her lips and picked up her ‘Dunhill Unique’ lighter (she’d hang onto it, it was wicked useful) opening it’s flip top arm, flicking her thumb down on the ignition wheel for the very freaking last time. Bully for her, only losers smoked.

BANG.

Faith and Ellen stopped in their tracks, staring at Faith’s partially exploded cigarette in astonishment.

Practical joker Sam struck again.

***
Montreal, Quebec
***

Sammy lay naked on the floor in the motel unit bathroom, making the ten items of his toiletries bag spin around in steady circles five feet above his head.

Bobby, Ellen and Jo were sight-seeing through the streets of Montreal, debating whether to sample French food or stick with coffee and apple pie at McDonalds. Ellen dragged a chow-xenophobic, protesting Bobby into a patisserie café kicking and screaming.

“We could fly y’know.” Faith bit down on Dean’s bare shoulder, unbuckling his jeans, helping him push them along with his boxers down onto the floor. “You must be able to scrounge up passports from somewhere.” The boys managed to get hold of Homeland Security ID cards.

“Passports are more tricky to swing, it’s cheaper to travel by land in the end.” Dean stepped out of his jeans with a shake of his foot. Plane travel? Hell no. “Listen, we’re not stopping in the U.S. huh?”

He picked her up by the waist, stalk walking her backwards over to the edge of the bed. “We’ll take it in turns to drive, keep driving through the night. We’ll be in Mexico in two days.”

“Ya gonna let someone else drive your wheels?” Christ, the world must be ending.

Faith sank slowly down on the edge of the bed, parting her legs, enabling Dean to kneel directly in front of her, sucking on her neck, pressing his palms down her bare back.

“Not you, sweetheart.” Dean mumbled through his mouth’s progress over her clavicle bones. He raised his head and straightened up to be eye to eye with her. “Faith, I know ya terrified of going back to prison. Believe it or not wearing orange again tops my list of things to avoid, too.”

“I’m not scared of going back to prison because I’m never gonna.” ‘And how many asshole cops and sheriffs will I have to murder to avoid getting put back in a cage? Jesus, what if I start to get off killing humans again? And the assholes will have families, it will be wrong and I won’t be good. I need to be fucking good or everything spirals down the can.’ Faith clasped her hands around his neck, willing him to understand without her having to spell it out. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Dean.”

‘Except me, Faith. Have you noticed I’m now a triage candidate for the hospital of emotional pain because of loving you, it’s hilarious huh? I’m meant to have eleven more months before I’m Hell.’ Dean twisted his mouth, mocking her gently, “I thought you wanna make a necklace of Sammy’s guts?”

“Well duh.” Faith pressed her lips against Dean’s lustfully. That jack-ass freak, she was gonna make Sam pay dearly for that stunt he pulled with her cigarette packet.

***
Windsor, Ontario/Detroit Illinois
***

There was a ten minute delay getting across The Ambassador Bridge. Dean beamed his heart out at the U.S. female border guard, producing his forged identification papers with a smarmy flourish.

Sam produced his papers with calm indifference trying hard not to puke with nerves. He left sweat marks from his hands on his fake driver’s license.

Dean flirted some more with the border guard. He didn’t feel he looked as hot with a beard. Sam’s goatee looked plain fugly.

The car in front of them got pulled aside for a random contraband search. They and Bobby and Ellen following behind them were waved on. Thank god.

“Ya know, I’m glad we’re not terrorists.” Jo passed around a packet of gum to everyone. “I mean think about it.”

***
Route 54 Missouri
***

Tensions were high. Harsh words were spoken by both parties as take-out purchased; Dean drove back onto the main highway.

“You squirted that ketchup on me on purpose, bitch.” Sam accused Faith, wiping the red condiment off the back of his head.

“It jacked off on you accidentally.” Faith denied hotly, licking the spilled ketchup off her fingers. “I hadn’t come across a ketchup packet like that one before. Jo squirted me, am I havin’ a hissy fit over it?”

“Jo squirted you first. You should have worked out how not to do the same mistake. You thought you could get away with it.” Sam twisted his head around glaring at her.

“Hey, I don’t stoop to your kid level, bud.” Faith announced virtuously, dunking her fry in ketchup. No, she was waiting for the chance to do something truly nasty to pay the shithead back for her ruined last smoke. Faith’s sense of humor level was zero when it came to being played a practical joke on. Sam should count himself wicked lucky she didn’t give him a black eye, once she worked out what he’d done, but she’d reformed. Faith smiled sinisterly to herself, maybe not that much.

“Oh you stoop, Faith.” Sam guffawed in scorn. Sam worked out the first day he found out Faith lived, that a boyfriend waited for her in Ireland. Dean couldn’t lie to Sam for shit these days. No one could anymore. Behind Sam’s brow pounded another severe headache, brought on by sensing everyone’s emotions in the take-out bar in a blinding flash ten minutes ago.

Dean loved Faith. Jo loved Dean. The green-eyed monster gnawed at Jo over Faith. Faith cared deeply for Dean. Dean cared slightly for Jo. Everyone worried about Sam turning evil.

“What the hell does that mean?” Faith swallowed her fry indignantly. “Spit it out, freak.”

Sam ignored her, to bark an urgent request to his brother. “Dean, pull over the car, I’m gonna throw up.” Sam fumbled at the door in queasy panic.

“Crap, hold on, bro.” Dean slowed down over to the shoulder of the road.

“Here use this bag.” Jo leaned over to helpfully hold out a plastic bag containing her discarded half eaten burger.

Sam inhaled the scent of fried onions, heaved his stomach contents and missed the bag.

Dean regarded the vomit on the dashboard and floor mats, distastefully. “Terrific.”

***
Route 44 Texas
***
Dean and Sam leaned against one another, asleep in the back seat of the Impala.

“Even with the window down, this car smells of puke,” Jo screwed up her nose and tried to concentrate on driving.

“And we got such a long way to go to make it to the border of Mexico.” Faith quoted Christopher Cross, stretching her arms out. “Long as you don’t feel on the verge of an up chuck, ‘Hunter Barbie’.”

“I’ve been cleaning up spew in my Mom’s bar since I was thirteen. Cast iron belly.” Jo shared non-resentfully. “I earned my allowance big time.”

“So what didja spend the dough on?” Faith kept talking to Jo to ensure she kept alert. It was eleven in the morning, Jo had been driving since four am.

“Make-up, CDs, normal gal crap.” Jo glanced in the rear view mirror at the Winchester brothers sprawled against each other, dead to the world in their exhausted slumber.

“Have you ever seen siblings more fricking claustrophobically close as those two?” Jo turned up the car stereo more loudly to be heard over the rushing wind.

“Yeah, two Californian sisters,” Faith sipped from her water bottle. “The kid sister was prepared to die in an apocalypse, tasered a guy to be with her big sis when she died. They both didn’t, so happy ending huh?”

Faith’s already high opinion of Dawn Summers rose tenfold when the brat arrived back in Sunnydale driving illegally with an unconscious Xander in tow, to be with B. when they all carked it on the Hellmouth.

And if Dawnie could pull that crap at merely sixteen, what would Dean at twenty-eight be prepared to do in order to bring Sam back to life?

***
El Paso, Texas/ Mexico 


***

The Bridge of the Ambassadors experienced no delays, and once again the intrepid party of supernatural heroes was waved through by disinterested border guards of both countries.

“I’m starting to feel unimportant in the greater scheme of things, dude.” Sam let out a deep breath of relief as Dean set out on the long drive to Tepic.
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Chapter Twelve: There's a calm before the storm [May. 20th, 2007|07:18 pm]
***
Nebraska to North Dakota
***

And so here they all were on their road to nowhere, searching for two hundred escaped from Hell demons who wanted to collectively take over the world, yadda, yadda, yadda. Closest most likely mass demonic destination, Hellmouth Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, Canada, or Hellmouth Tepic, Nayarit, Mexico. It seemed highly unlikely the escaped demons would be so dumb as to flee to Cleveland; hardly any demon with a brain cell did these days.

Ellen and Bobby rode together in his pick up truck. Faith and Jo lounged in the backseat of the Impala, Dean and Sam in the front. It would take them all six hours driving time to reach Fargo, North Dakota, from Nebraska. Dean and Sam knew a contact there that could get them both fresh false I.D. Bobby’s cousin who owned a garage in Fargo, could do a necessary minor alteration to the Impala for them.

Dean glanced fondly in his rearview mirror at a cherubic, dimpled Faith. Tonight she was all his again and they could consummate their interrupted impromptu love making before breakfast. “I don’t need someone who’s been running red lights on the wrong side of the road for the past four years to tell me how to drive, sweetheart.”

“Believe me, someone should babe.” Faith leaned her arms on the back of Sam’s seat, she cracked her gum loudly behind Sam’s ear, enjoying his start of annoyance. “Hey is that still irritating, pal?”

“No, everything you do is freaking alluring, Faith, you were always all class.” Sam was going to play a practical joke on her before the week was out. She was asking for it. “You okay back there, Jo?”

“Yeah.” Jo looked forward to crossing the border into Canada tomorrow. But it hurt later that afternoon, watching Faith and Dean be so ‘together’, claiming afterwards they were just playing a part as they wound their arms around each other affectionately, bickering gently at the gas station over whether or not the ‘Weekly World News’ only legitimate purpose was to line a kitty litter tray.

***
Fargo, North Dakota
***
“So are you going to be taking on this ‘method’ acting with me, Ellen?” Bobby asked her as they played poker with Jo and Sam round their motel room table at night in Fargo. “Because I don’t know if my heart could take it or my back, you wild cat in bed, you.”

“That any way to talk to your ‘wife’ in front of the kids?” Ellen grinned and dealt the cards around the table. The players all threw in their ante. “I’m a hard woman to please, Bobby, you have to last the distance remember?”

“Mom,” Jo didn’t want to hear this or Dean and Faith bumping uglies. Fortunately, the unit Jo, Bobby and her mother shared was soundproof. Sam came in to join them five minutes ago seeking refuge from his sibling’s imminent copulation with his ex-‘girlfriend experience’.

Sam’s hand was excellent, two aces, awesome. “I’m in for ten.”

Jo felt pissed off honestly. She didn’t want to share a motel unit with Bobby. It would have been bad enough sharing one with Faith. To be fair, Faith was okay… outwardly friendly if sharp tongued but then so was Jo, so was her mom, so was just about everyone Jo knew, apart from Sam when he wasn’t being possessed by a demon.

Jo was fricking prettier than Faith. Why did Dean…? She looked at her hand. Son of a bitch. “I’m in for ten.”

***

“Crap, you okay down there?” Dean hadn’t meant to slam so hard into Faith, her head and upper body hung off the edge of the bed.

“Fake erotic asphyxia takes my breath away, baby. Keep going - harder.” Faith reassured him, the blood rushing dizzyingly to her brain. She and an ex-boyfriend back in Boston, enjoyed occasionally scarfing in the sack, taking it in turns to use leather belts to cut off each other’s oxygen supply, sixteen year old Faith got really into it, her boyfriend chickened out eventually. Christ above, what the hell had she been thinking looking back. Talk about a fucking death-wish, they’d been stoned half the time.

If the lady requested… Dean kept pounding into her, holding her hip bones tightly so he didn’t end up with them both on the floor.

Keeping the bedroom light on permitted him to see her sex flush start to spread down over her breasts, neck and reddened face as he kept slamming into her. Faith’s moans were hitting fever pitch, she orgasmed loudly, blaspheming as per usual.

Touching not, but less creepy than the occasional one night stands who cried out some other guy’s name when they climaxed, definitely.

Dean plunged into her so deep he half expected his cock to stick out of her spine as he came.

It didn’t of course, retaining hold of the rubber covering his deflating cock, he pulled her back up on the bed, hugging her upright for a few considerate seconds until her giddiness passed.

Faith broke away from him, flopping content back on the bed, her head resting on the pillows.

Dean put his head down on the softness of her yielding breasts, tugging off the condom and tying a knot in it. He chucked the rubber carelessly on the floor. He couldn’t be bothered locating a trash basket at present.

“Ya such a neat freak.” Faith repositioned his head slightly to be more comfortable for her. “Washing your socks in kitchen sinks? Made me all wet, maybe Jo too – us hearing about your laundry habits from Sam.”

“Give me some freaking credit, I’ve evolved.” Dean wandered his hand over her stomach, continuing to rest his head on top of her chest, listening to her heartbeat return rapidly to normal. “Sammy was gassing about something that happened years ago. And ya still kinda messy yourself, sweetheart.”

He pressed his thumb into the hollow of her navel, a scar there suggested an abandoned piercing. “Hey, does it bother you I don’t say anything when I get off inside you?” Faith could be Dean’s convenient sounding board when it came to sex again.

“Like what? I love you, snookums?” Faith smirked, stroking his back. “I couldn’t give a shit, Dean.” She kissed the top of his sweat damp head affectionately. God, the guy could make her feel all warm and glowing towards him. Always could.

“But man, I just grunt like an animal, doesn’t that ever bug you?” Dean broached this topic with Cassie too once and she said she didn’t care either. He never disappointed Cassie in bed, just out of it. Dean disappointed himself often too.

“Did I stutter? Who gives a shit?” Faith could care less. ‘You filthy, disgusting little dog.’ Grady Foster used to spit that at her sometimes when he got off inside her. Last year, this weird guy she had a one night stand with, (the week after she got married and deserted) yelled in her eardrum deafening her, as he came, ‘I’m not a fag, I’m not!’ “It’s kinda hot the sound you make when you shoot your load.”

Dean felt flattered and accepted; he twisted his head and pressed his lips on her left breast tenderly.

“I gotta pee.” Faith pushed him gently to one side and moved off the double bed.

“Bring me back a beer, thanks?” Dean asked her pleasantly.

Faith leisurely left the room. She’d fetch Dean a beer, no problem. And after he drank it she planned to sit on his face. How wicked nice to spend a quiet evening in with an old pal.

***
Fargo, North Dakota to Emerson, Manitoba, Canada
***
Dean opened his car door after slinging his bag in the trunk and glared at the newly installed seat belts in the green Impala. His baby, his poor baby. Damn Canadian interfering Government, with their stupid laws about compulsory seat belt wearing.

“Do you wanna a tissue, are you gonna cry?” Faith patted him on the ass unsympathetically. Anything that made them less likely to be stopped by law authorities was fine with her. Faith was never going back to prison. “I guess you must be kinda worried about the belt wrinkling your clothes.”

“I’m worried I’m gonna kill you.” Dean straightened up, turned around and encircled his strong hands around her throat playfully. Any excuse to touch her.

“Baby, you shoulda done that last night for an added buzz when I was on top.” Faith leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief, kissing him sensually. Dean removed his hands from her throat and began to run them feverishly over her face and hair.

Sam and Jo back from a quick morning walk were thrown off balance by the sight.

“Dudes, get a freaking room, it’s too soon after breakfast to witness your stomach churning public display of lust.” Sam feared Dean would get hurt somehow by this second ‘casual’ re-hook up with Faith. Faith and Dean didn’t glance covertly at each other when the other wasn’t looking. They’d openly stare, wink and smile, like they had nothing left to lose this time around. Screw those two maybe they both thought their mission doomed.

Jo just hurt, again.

Sam and Jo collected their bags and placed them in the trunk of the car.

Sam opened his car door and scrunched inside, doing up his seat belt thankfully. Air Bags would have rocked too.

Sam managed to levitate a can of spray deodorant in the motel bathroom this morning, carrying out the experiment left him with a headache.

“Long face, mean you lose at poker, bro?” Dean did not intend to put on his seat belt until in Canada. The Impala was built like a Sherman Tank for crying out loud. Sammy may as well have been his sister, the wuss.

“Sam cleaned us all out nearly. Good thing we weren’t playing strip.” Jo tried to avoid looking at Faith, cosmetics tote in hand checking to see her lipstick lived up to its claim of being ‘kiss proof’ in a hand mirror. “Bobby did really bad last night.”

“Wanna try ‘Poison’?” Faith offered Jo a squirt from the free sample bottle Faith got given in a Dublin department store.

“Thanks.” Jo’s held her wrist out. Pity Faith couldn’t drink the stuff.

***

There was a teeth grinding, jaw clenching, half hour wait in the line to cross over the Canadian border into Emmerson. But the delay gave Sam and Ellen ample time to fill in the firearms declaration form in their respective vehicles.

Purpose they were in Canada for? Hunting vacation. Anyone in the vehicle ever been before a judge? Everyone shook their heads guilessly. Everyone’s documentation was checked with perfunctionary indifference and they were waved across without further incident.

***
Kenora, Ontario
***

Fitting in with their supposed ‘Family vacation’ the hunters and slayer booked into a cheap resort lodge by the shores of Lake Of The Woods for the night.

Dean and Faith strolled by the moonlit lake hand in hand, pausing to kiss occasionally and slap at feasting mosquitoes frequently.

“Are you sure everything’s okay? Not just with Sam and this apocalypse B.S.” Faith slapped at her neck. Something was definitely preying on Dean’s mind these days. The guy was so gung ho about their upcoming battle and cheerfully affectionate to her, no one’s life was so fucking great as he made his out to be.

“Everythin’s groovy, wild thing.” Dean squeezed her hand, he’d made Sam swear not to tell her about his one year lease on life but he knew she’d suspect something was wrong. There was no one quite like Faith and if things were different… “Uh Faith… I never thought I’d ever say this to you…any chick, but could ya light a smoke and see if it keeps these freaking blood sucking bugs away?”

“Sure.” Faith pulled out her cigarette packet from her jacket. She cupped her cigarette with one hand and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “Guess what? First of June is my giving up smoking date.”

“Yeah, what, ya giving up smoking in the middle of an apocalypse? That’s gonna take incredible will power, sweetheart.” Dean seemed skeptical.

“Hey, there’s never a perfect time to do anything. Like deciding on a fuckin’ wedding date, man that was hard to organize, shoulda seen the writing on the wall,” Faith shrugged, exhaling smoke on her bare hands in hopeful insect repellent purpose.

“Why did you marry the dick?” Dean couldn’t work it out. She hadn’t even sounded in love with the guy. Did Faith ever fall in love with anyone? Did she ever love him like he loved her?

“I dunno, seemed a good idea at the time.” Faith grinned, she kept walking through the cloud of mosquitoes. “Like this dumb walk you suggested, only for you, babe.”

Dean pulled her close; avoiding getting a hole burned in his clothing from her cigarette, maybe Faith had loved Dean as much as she was capable of back then.

***
Trans Canada Highway, Ontario
***
“I wanna know have you ever seen the rain,” The three ball breaking bitches that hijacked Dean’s stereo sang loudly to stave off the boredom of the journey. “Comin’ down on a sunny day.”

For a change of pace, Sammy rode with Bobby today and Ellen declared with an evil glint in her eye that the three women should get in some girl bonding time.

“Thank you, ladies, for ruining a perfectly good song.” Dean snorted in irritation at the feminine intrusion into his masculine environment. Seat belts, green, soft rock!

“Christ, you sounded like your old man just then.” Faith widened her eyes in surprise.

“He’s a chip off the old block alright.” Ellen agreed, and that’s why she never wanted Jo to get involved with Dean. She wanted the best for her little girl, didn’t all mothers?

Only an obsessed bastard like John Winchester would let his son invite a teen prostitute practically, to free ride with John’s family for two months because it kept his eldest son onboard with his mission.

Jo would get her heart broken dabbling in Dean’s multitude of issues, not like Miss Yankee-Euro Trash who was as hard as nails.

Faith and Dean were a match made in Hell.

***
Halifax, Nova Scotia
***

“And I’d make it freaking mandatory for all governors to sleep a night in the cells to experience the crap mattresses for themselves.” Dean finished his proposal for U.S. prison reform as they lay in bed together. “And who did you kill Faith, are you ever going to come clean?”

“Are you my fuckin’ confessor?” Faith wished he would let it go for Christ’s sake. Why did he have to spoil everything?

“I’d understand…” Dean would, he just needed to know. What the hell happened, what went so wrong for her back then?

“Leave it or I’m leaving.” Faith spat incensed, moving away so she no longer touched him in bed. She tried real hard to forget what she did to those poor guys, put it behind her and concentrate on doing good. Attack was the best method of defense. “Hey or you could tell me how Sam managed to rise from the dead for a swap of info, huh?”

“I dunno where you got that cracked idea from.” Shit. How the hell did Faith work that one out? “Look let’s go to sleep, okay?” Dean picked up a can of mosquito repellent and sprayed it in the air above them.

Jesus on a stick, that was fucking moronic doing that! Dean could be damn retarded sometimes. Faith squeezed her eyes shut so droplets wouldn’t land in her eyes.

“It’s too stuffy to sleep.” Faith got up and opened the window. The mesh screen should theoretically prevent more mosquitoes coming inside.

“Did you break the salt seal round the window?” Dean checked annoyed.

“Yeah and I hung up a sign saying ‘Demons’ please possess cabin’s occupants.’” Faith crawled back into bed beside him. It was bad enough putting up with his fucking knife under his pillow, did she go to bed with a stake?

“Faith, don’t be mad at me.” Dean pleaded, he hated it when women he cared about got angry at him. He fondled her breast seeking reassurance.

Faith attacked his mouth with her own. She felt furious at him. So wound up.

Dean felt strung out too, the condom packet lay out of immediate reach on the other side of the room, he slid his bare cock inside her like he always wanted to and it was god-damn beautiful.

She was beautiful, he loved her, he always had.

Faith twisted him over and writhed on top of him, setting the savage pace. What the hell was he looking up at her all goopy for? Didn’t he know how that made her feel, like she was the most special person on Earth, like she counted and she was amazing?

Faith cared about Dean deeply, no matter how hard she tried to fight the unwelcome emotion. And she was climaxing in a crashing wave of intensity, biting down on the hand he clamped over her mouth so she wouldn’t disturb the others, and he was thrusting upwards into her as hard as he could, as he got off in turn.

They lay beside each other staring up at the ceiling in the dim light.

“I guess you’ll wanna go to a pharmacist or the Doc’s tomorrow and get plan B?” Dean broke their brooding silence. He wasn’t sure how emergency contraception worked in Canada.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m on the injection.” Faith got up once more to go to the bathroom, who needed freaking honeymooners cystitis on top of an apocalypse?

“Then why…?” Dean didn’t understand at first.

“Why do you think, stud?” Faith threw on his large t-shirt and left the room, kicking herself for the screw up. It was his fucking fault too. No, it was only hers.

Dean chuckled to himself ruefully. Nice to know what Faith truly thought about him.
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Chapter Eleven: The moment of truth in your lies [May. 19th, 2007|07:02 pm]
***
South Dakota
***
Dean called Faith collect at one in the morning his time, seven am Faith’s. The telephone rang seven times before she picked up and he heard her sleepy-headed husky voice. Yes, she was still safe and did Dean know what fucking time it was in Dublin? Dean did but didn’t Faith have work this morning? He wanted to catch her before she left, God alone knew why, because Little Miss Sunshine clearly got out of the wrong side of bed this morning. Faith expressed sarcastic amazement that Dean knew about the work hours’ ordinary people kept. She wanted to be put onto Sam.

Sam, why the hell Sam? Why didn’t she want to keep talking to Dean? He liked talking to her.

Dean watched closely Sam’s face as his brother spoke to Faith. “Yes. No. No. Well yeah. Don’t you clearly have your own problems to worry about? That so, bitch? Okay…816-520-6290. Uh huh, Good-bye.”

Sam hung up the receiver forcefully. There was something about Faith that always brought out Sam’s misogynist side, every guy secretly nursed one. He thought about why that was… oh yeah, because Faith had clearly evolved from being a mean teen into a blackmailing whore!

Faith wanted in on their Armageddon or she’d snitch to the Slayer Headquarters in Cleveland about what the Winchester brothers’ were up against, leading to an army of teenage super-girls breathing down their necks. He felt relieved he guessed. Maybe this way Dean and Bobby wouldn’t have to kill him if the crap hit the fan and Sam turned evil with his newly emerging powers. Faith could. And maybe she knew how to save Dean’s soul. Sam doubted this and would trying to get Dean out of the crossroads deal the wrong way end Sam’s life instantly?

Dean frowned perplexed (and damn Faith, mildly hurt again). “Didn’t she want to speak to me? Why did she want your cell number, dude?” Faith never asked for Dean’s. Why hadn’t she asked for Dean’s?

“She’ll be calling us back; she wants to keep in contact.” Sammy promised his wistful big brother. “She presumed I’d be more likely to keep my cell charged than you when we’re on the road.”

“Hey, I always take care of crap like that.” Dean was very conscientious in lots of ways, didn’t Faith realize this? She wanted to keep in contact with them? That was freaking awesome.

Sam couldn’t work out what the heck Dean was looking so pleased about. Did Dean still carry a torch for Faith or something? Dean always wore the ring she gave him from when they were teenagers, at first in her memory, later out of habit. Sam knew Dean felt gutted back at nineteen when he thought Faith dead. Sam felt pretty cut up about Faith’s faked death himself. And in all the time that passed since then, Faith could never have let their family know she was still alive? Faith could be a hard selfish bitch, had Dean forgotten that?

***
Nebraska
***

Faith shuffled in the fabric seat of the Greyhound bus. The darkness preventing her view of mind numbingly dull plains.

She started to once again add up her checking account cash hemorrhage in her mind.

Eight hundred Euros on her airfare to New York. Losing the bond deposit on her flat because of short notice leaving it, six hundred Euros. The look on the teenagers faces as they stole her carefully parked car in the worst part of Dublin, and set off to wreck it in a joy ride so Faith didn’t need to worry about car repayments, priceless. Telling Siobhan’s watcher the former lover of a master vampire wanted Faith dead and she needed to leave Dublin immediately had been kinda priceless too and also true in its own way.

Giles delivered the bad news to Faith over the telephone last Saturday night. Kakistos knocked boots with a centuries old boy toy that he’d been having a decade’s break from, at the time Faith crossed the ancient vampire’s path. The vampire Philip, once back from his twelve year Bolivian retreat, all set to kiss and make up with his sire, correspondingly found out Faith killed Kakistos.

Philip wanted Faith dead. One of his followers turned the American waiter from the Greek restaurant into a zombie to perform the task, not realizing the American waiter happened to be a protégée of the yellow eyed demon that tried to take over the world. Sammy had told Faith the yellow eyed demon was toast, but with two hundred recruiting demons now on the loose the apocalypse was still a distinct probability.

It made Faith feel real special to have a contract out on her head again. Philip was a mini-big bad nothing to worry about, much. Not like her checking account.

Flight from New York to Nebraska, three hundred U.S. dollars. Greyhound bus ticket to some ruined bar in the middle of nowhere, far too expensive, but cheaper than a hire car. Faith needed to watch every cent from here on in. She could always fall back on shop lifting… she’d fallen back into other bad habits recently. Like screwing guys she shouldn’t.

Faith never planned on seeing Dean again after their unexpected dirty weekend at Lake Vermillion, (sex was always dirty if it was any good) she’d said good-bye to him face to face finally. But now she might end up spending her last days on the planet with him.

She guessed she’d be going out with a banging at least. She couldn’t realistically see how they’d be able to restrain themselves from screwing each others brains out one last time. Faith didn’t delude herself she’d be able to refrain from cheating on Seamus once more, not when it came to Dean. She’d try…. It wasn’t like Seamus and Faith loved each other… yet.

Faith and Dean’s sexual chemistry was electric; no it was acidic, no alkaline, magnetic? Faith had no freaking idea what their chemistry was but they would overflow test tubes with the heat between them.

God, that should be a deeply depressing thought, because Faith at twenty-six wanted to spend her last hours on Earth with someone who loved her, someone who’d got their shit together like Seamus, not a fellow player which was what Dean had clearly turned into. And it was kind of sad because Dean would have made a great family guy if life had worked out differently for him.

***

Dean was helping Sam and Jo clear the ruins of the roadhouse in the early rays of the morning sun, to access the blocked basement that lay beneath.

Faith jumped off the Greyhound bus, crossed the main highway and there she stood in front of Dean, all composed and cool on the outside, (she’d fixed her make up and hair in the bus) when on the inside her heart was fluttering like moths smashing into a lantern.

Faith observed surprised Dean and Sam were both heavily unshaven. Dean in his flannel shirt resembled a potential lumberjack. She guessed the blonde girl with them must be Jo. Jo came across as a breathing Barbie-doll looks wise, but too young for Dean, look at the crap that happened between Faith and Robin.

“Of all the burnt out gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine. Sam, did you know she was playing you again when Faith asked for your cell phone number?” Dean dropped the charred plank he was carrying with a loud thunk and accused his hovering brother. God, Faith looked incredible and she was back in his life, what the hell for?

“Playing Sam? I was playing you, pal.” Faith rolled her eyes in contradiction. She and Sam passed secret messages back and forth to each other for the past four days.

Here came Sam about to give her a hug, soft schmuck. “Whoa!” she cried out in mock alarm as Sam picked her up.

“God it’s weird, but it’s great to see you, Faith.” Sam squeezed her around her middle before releasing her back down on her feet.

“Christ, are you even taller?” Faith tilted her head back exaggeratedly to wink up at him. “How’s the weather up there, freak?”

“Don’t tempt me to spit on you and tell you it’s raining.” Sam retorted back grinning from ear to ear.

“I guess Europe and Stanford made you guys extra friggin’ articulate with one another.” Dean interrupted their tender reunion impatiently. “What the hell are you doing here, Faith? I thought the U.S. was never gonna get a guest appearance from you again. Don’t you have vampires to stake in a functional way back in Dublin?”

“Incoming apocalypse, Dean baby.” Faith thumped her chest with her fist. “Me slayer, me help kid bro survive Apocalypse.”

“A slayer?” Jo stepped forwards to introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Jo Harvelle.”

“Faith Lehane.” Faith smiled at her, enjoying Dean’s discomfort. “Pleased to meetcha, Jo.”

***

Jo squinted curiously at Faith getting into the nearby parked Impala with Dean so they could have a private conversation. So this slim stranger in the tight fitting clothes was the chick who’d got porky? Yeah right.

“Dean and Faith were a duo when they were teenagers?” Jo descended into the basement with Sam.

“Kinda, it was a weird summer.” Sam illuminated her progress with his flashlight. Why was Jo into his brother so much? Dean was the best brother a guy could ask for and yet he could often be an asshole when it came to women and guys he perceived to be dicks. Let’s face it, Dean verged on being a prick.

Faith noted the slight alterations done to the Impala over the years. You’d never guess it had been in a major car crash. Painting it green had been a shrewd idea on Bobby Singer’s part. Although she was sure Sam was right when he told her Dean practically threw a tantrum like a three year old over the issue when he discovered the vehicle’s transformation after he came back from his weekend away.

She pushed her hair back from her face, silver bracelets jangling on her wrist and prepared to keep on arguing with Dean.

“I’m not gonna hurt Sam.” Faith meant every word she said as she shut the car door behind her and settled into the front seat. “I’d never kill him, there’s always another way, Dean.”

“But you’re a slayer that’s what you do, kill.” Dean didn’t entirely believe her, god he wanted to. He stared hostilely across at her from where he sat, her chocolate brown eyes were all sincere and she could be lying her head off. “I don’t need your freaking help, Faith, touching gesture on your part and all, stalking me, but hop right back on a plane and go back to arranging orchids in leprechaun land.”

“I didn’t come here to help you, Dean. What, you’re such a freaking sex god I can’t keep away? I came because I owe Sam.” Faith struggled to get the sappy yet heartfelt words out. “Sam was one of the few people… who ever helped me without wanting… something back when I was a kid, plus your old man let me freeload offa him. I owe your family. I was putting you all in danger the whole time I was with you, and I always… felt lousy about it.” Should she mention about Philip now? Maybe later.

“And we coulda helped you, Faith. If you’d just come clean. God, if anyone could help you it woulda been us.” Dean never understood why she hadn’t asked for their aid. He and his Dad would have fallen over themselves to help her.

“I told you, Dean! I didn’t think you could… anyone could…” Faith bent her head down, letting her long brown hair obscure her eyes, her face. “I was brainwashed into thinking I had to keep being a slayer a state secret by my watcher, and then this bozo said you were amateurs. I did the best I could at the time with the available information to me.” Faith was sure she’d read her last statement in a women’s magazine somewhere, or did she hear it on TV when she was sick at home watching Jerry Springer in bed once?

“Did you take off with that dick preacher who wanted…?” Dean’s mind nagged at the possibility all week after talking to Sam when he returned to Bobby’s and found out yet more missing jigsaw pieces to the puzzle of Faith that summer. Sammy sure kept a lot secret from Dean and his Dad back then, deceitful little asshole.

“No, course not. Like I told you back at the cabin, I finally made contact with the Watchers Council.” Faith sneered, like she was ever telling anyone especially Dean for some reason about the fucking hideous month she spent screwing Grady Foster. She’d made a throw away joke about it to Spike once, even a vampire seemed sorry for her. Faith never wanted to be pitied. “Look, can we just forget the crap past and focus on the present?”

“Okay, so theoretically how do you plan on helping us?” Dean put his hands on the steering wheel like he just wanted to drive away from the whole mess. “Because we need to save the fricking world.”

Faith was fucked if she knew. “What’s your plan first?” Faith looked him confidently in the eye. “I’ve been on slayer seminars I’ll evaluate it.” Bullshitting. Faith felt back on solid ground when she did that to Dean.

“The Feds are searching for two male fugitives. Bobby, Ellen and Jo are coming with us on the road trip to hell. We’re gonna pretend to be a family, uh Sammy’s going to pretend to be Jo’s boyfriend. The beard’s part of the disguise.” Dean stroked his emerging whiskers self consciously. “I’m soon gonna resemble Johnny Depp in a sell out role, I just need a gold earring.”

“Try ZZ Top.” Faith smirked mercilessly. “Well gee whiz, Dean, I can be your imaginary girlfriend again. Ya real good at pretending that crap.”

“I’m not nineteen anymore, baby, you can’t crash our party by bribing me with sex.” Dean wiped a speck of dried goo off the glass of the console. God yes please.

“Who said anything about sex, Casanova?” So he was thinking about screwing her already in spite of being truly pissed at her, how sweet. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Yeah, can you?” Dean noticed her hair smelled of coconut and jasmine in the confined space.

Faith observed his nostrils twitch in an almost imperceptible response to her hair scent, sucker. That Body Shop shampoo she bought before leaving Ireland was a worthwhile investment.

“Don’t tell anyone I have a boyfriend, okay? I wanna keep him out of this he doesn’t know I’m a slayer.” Faith didn’t want everyone thinking her a slut if she started with sleeping with Dean again. People tended to be wicked quick to judge which would interfere with the job she’d come here to do. Otherwise she couldn’t give a shit, what business was it of other people's how she ran her life?

“No one knows I’m back in America again. You can trust me, Dean.” He could trust her totally but would he?

“Gimme your cell, Faith.” Dean held out his hand expectantly.

“What?” Faith’s head jerked up in annoyance. He wasn’t intending…

“You heard me, you wanna come with?” Dean needed her, he heard what slayers could do and Faith was no innocent. Faith could look after herself, she always did. Sam came first, she could help him save Sammy. He couldn’t face anything happening to Sam again, couldn’t survive feeling the grief at being the only one in his family left alive, even if it would be for less than a year.

Dean couldn’t trust Faith not to squeal to the New Watchers Council if things got tough, but at least he could rely on the fact she was good and would never go evil on them. “We can’t afford you being traced or contacting Cleveland, so cough up ya cell.”

“Paranoia saves lives huh, pal?” Faith tugged out her cell phone from her leather jacket pocket and dropped it disdainfully down on his open palm. She was coming with them so she was the overall winner.

***

The Winchester’s brothers’ plan was further refined and discussed over lunch, in the friend’s house Ellen and Jo were staying in down the highway from the burnt out roadhouse.

For starters it wasn’t Dean and Sam’s plan exactly it was more Bobby and Ellen’s.

Ellen Harvelle now her fire insurance money had been paid to her was a happy carefree woman. She could retire comfortably except the world might end soon, so she definitely wanted in on preventing that calamity. Besides, Dean and Sam were John’s boys and she wanted to assist them all she could.

Bobby knew Dean’s love for Sam made it difficult for him to see the big picture and the boys needed clear headed advice in fighting what they were up against. Besides, John Winchester that obsessed son of a bitch had been Bobby’s friend.

There was no way in hell, Jo Harvelle was letting her mom face danger without her daughter beside her watching her mother’s back every step of the way. Besides, Jo was kinda in love with Dean which made seeing this woman Faith sitting opposite her at the lunch table, awkward.

Jo hoped to god no one guessed how she jealous felt, damn it to hell, everyone knew, she realized except Bobby. Jo hoped instead no one would be so mean as to mention it to her, Jo had her pride.

Faith merely felt amused at Dean being uncomfortable at having Jo and Faith in the same place at the same time. What did the moron think was gonna happen? She and Jo would start scratching each others eyes out over him as they passed the pepper shaker to each other?

Dean regretted ever telling Faith he cared about Jo. He regretted telling Jo Faith was fat. Why the hell had he said that? He trusted they weren’t gonna have a cat fight over him. Chicks sometimes pulled that crap and both Jo and Faith were feisty.

Although Faith behaved meekly out of character, only smirking suggestively when Dean informed everybody that at no time was Faith gonna be left alone in a room with a telephone. Did she have to twist her mouth like he’d just implied something perverted?

***

A shortage of hire lodging in the one horse town the Harvelle women came from (the roadhouse had been it) led to Faith sleeping in a boy-band poster covered spare bedroom with Jo, in one of Jo’s old high school friend’s houses that night.

“So how are ya gonna stop me using the phone in the middle of the night?” Faith stripped off her day clothes and pulled on her crocheted sweater she slept in.

“Mrs. Harvey’s taken the downstairs phones into her bedroom. I said you sleepwalked and made toll calls.” Jo eyed the way Faith dumped her clothes carelessly on the floor and prayed they wouldn’t share a bedroom that often on this hunting trip.

“Shoulda said I called the dating singles line for risk free heavy breathing.” Faith got into bed, she picked up a years out of date teenage magazine on the table beside the bed and glanced at the cover. “Hey, metallic pink prom dresses are ‘the bomb’ this year, and Hanson’s gonna make it big.”

“Always been into metal myself, I was the school freak.” Jo put on her pajamas, crawled into bed and turned off the light.

“Me too, but I liked indie music better.” Faith flicked her hair back and put her head down on the pillow.

Jo snuggled under the covers. “Which bands?”

***

Sam was sick of Dean freaking tossing and turning in the bunk bed above him. Their room was decorated with glow in the dark Spiderman action figures. The ten year old whose bedroom it was had been pissed off at having to give his room up to them.

“Dude, go to sleep already. What the heck’s wrong?” Sam finally snapped at his brother. “You’re keeping me awake.”

“Nothing, lumpy mattress.” Dean feared the girls would be talking about him, comparing notes, he felt his ears to see if they were burning. Why did it end up with him sleeping with his brother, and the two women he’d most like to go to bed with sharing the same room? God knew what they were saying about him.

***

“Yeah, I saw them live at the Bronze too,” Faith yawned, ‘but their support band played better that night.”

Jo listened with sleepy interest. “Uh huh, it stinks my only CD of theirs is now melted polycarbonate.”

***

Faith nipped out of her bedroom before the break of dawn to go to the bathroom and have a cigarette on the porch steps outside.

She heard Dean open the porch screen door and come out and sit beside her. His slightly bow legged footsteps were very distinctive.

Dean had been woken up by the sound of the toilet flushing beside his wall and guessed it would be her. Faith’s sleep patterns would be shot to hell through jet lag.

“I’m sending signals to the Watcher’s Council satellite so they can send in the teen marines.” Faith waved her left hand backwards and forwards over her glowing cigarette tauntingly, before she stubbed it out and flicked the butt away on the lawn.

“I don’t want a cavalry of chicks arriving unless they’re in bikinis or topless.” Dean passed her a Coke can he brought out for her.

“Thanks, didja sprinkle cheerios through it?” Faith sipped the cold liquid, grateful for the sugary caffeine hit and his thoughtfulness.

“No, slug bait.” Dean put his arm around her automatically. “You shouldn’t have come back, Faith.” They were probably all going to get arrested or die, maybe both.

“I know.” Faith also on auto pilot rested her head on his shoulder, drank the remainder of her soda and watched the sun come up with him.

***

Sam rose shortly after sunrise. The ten year old of the house wanted to get his trading card album from his desk drawer.

Sam walked downstairs blearily into the kitchen and put coffee on for everyone. He peered out the double glazed window at the new spring day. Oh freaking typical.

The ten year old kid came into the kitchen with the family dog, ready to let the hound outside.

“Hold on, dude.” Sam realized the kid was about to open the kitchen door. He opened the kitchen window and raised his voice loudly. “You’re letting Fido outside, huh Eric?”

Outside on the porch, Dean discovered the grass was growing back on the playing field as he groped under Faith’s jeans and panties. Dean having run out of clean underwear yesterday was commando under his own jeans, giving Faith unlimited access to his appreciative cock under her stroking right hand.

Their saliva was mixing in a strange tasting cocktail of cigarette smoke, Coke and toothpaste, (okay, so Dean brushed his teeth in hope) in an indecent kiss. Faith’s left hand was forcefully pressing his head down to hers enabling him to continue kissing her.

Dean groaned at the sound of Sam’s warning voice, withdrawing his hand quickly out of Faith’s jeans, getting off her, hastily zipping up his fly.

“Shit.” Faith wriggled away from him and pulled her top back down. She scrambled up and sat on the porch railing. She rubbed at her grazed chin from Dean’s whisker burn.

Seamus - guilt trip city. Christ, Faith was fucking shameless when it came to Dean. But it didn’t mean anything it was just basic mutual horniness. She was low, wicked low. But… no, she was wicked low. Well there was no point stopping now, she’d cheated on Seamus already - again. Low.

But on the bright side, she did feel real churned up about cheating which showed deep emotional growth on her part. Three cheers for Faith from the white coated voices in her head. And what Seamus never found out about wouldn’t hurt him. She was good and on top of things. She was.

Dean remained sitting on the porch steps, cool as a breathless cucumber who was trying to disguise a raging hard on.

Eric and the wagging tailed family dog came out onto the porch.

“Hey Eric, zippity doo dah day, isn’t it just?” Dean breezed, patting the dog on its back. Faith would think him a freaking dick if he blurted out he used to love her and probably wouldn’t believe him anyway, so he decided he would shut up about the past and let sleeping dogs lie.

Being inside Faith, getting off one after another, outranked any other pleasurable adult experience on Earth. Added bonus, Dean always enjoyed talking and laughing with Faith afterwards. God, it was the best thing since sliced bread she was back in his life – temporarily, because only a fresh kid like Jo would believe Dean possessed anything worth offering to an adult woman long term, even if he wasn’t going to be dead in a year.
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Part Two Chap 10: Like an eagle flying with a dove [May. 18th, 2007|06:58 pm]
AN: A milk frother resembles a small coffee plunger, you pour warm milk inside the small glass cylinder and plunge the fine mesh screen plunger part up and down, to make the milky frothy tops for cappuccinos.

PART TWO:spoiler alert for season 2 finale in Supernatural

***
Monday
Atlantic Ocean
***

Faith never got why people complained about airline food, growing up on her mom’s lack of cooking skills made Faith appreciate receiving a decent meal.

The returning Irish backpacker seated beside her, screwed up his face at the dismal dehydrated desert on his tray. “You wouldn’t get slop like this in feckin’ prison.”

Faith contentedly spooned down her dry cheesecake. “Ya dead right, you wouldn’t,” she agreed heartily, although sadly even prison food proved to be an improvement on Mom’s. Faith’s meals arrived regularly in prison.

The onboard movie took her mind off her thoughts of the last two days temporarily.

Faith going down on Dean in the shower. Dean banging her on the couch to ‘test the quality of the new cushion’. Dean’s carefree and fond expression when he looked at her after they finished screwing on the kitchen table. What did she look like to him in those moments? Sweaty probably.

Faith sipped her white wine in its plastic glass, trying to concentrate on the antics of Tim Allen on screen. Thank god her normal life could resume soon.

Dean squeezing her tight when he kissed her good-bye, like he never wanted to let her go. The way his stubble grazed her inner thigh…

“Uh, you majored in Tax Laws at Dublin City University?” Faith took her headphones off and nudged her seat row companion filling in a Sudoku puzzle square. “That sounds damn fascinating, bud. Tell me about it.”

***
Monday
South Dakota
***
Bobby Singer napped in his bedroom, worn out from an all night online game. Ellen Harvelle shopped at the nearest store for tonight’s meal.

“So your weekend break work, dude? Did you finally rest like I begged you to?” Sam fetched Dean a beer from the refrigerator. “All mentally refreshed? Got your head together over all the crap that’s gonna start happening soon?” Sam would save Dean, somehow.

“Yeah.” Dean sank back in a leather armchair and drank the beer gratefully. “I ran into Boston-Faith we met in Florida, she’s alive.”

“Faith? ‘Wicked’ ‘Five by five’ Faith from back when we were kids?” Sam’s face broke into a broad smile. “That’s great! How is she?”

“She’s good.” Dean put his beer down, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “Lives in Ireland now, she stayed in Bobby’s cabin for two nights on her way back there. But yeah, like I said she’s good, she’s got kinda boring to be brutally honest.”

Sam rolled his eyes in utter disbelief. “You slept with her again didn’t you?”

Faith lay curled up beside Dean in bed, he listened to her breathe in the darkness. He placed his arm around her protectively and she immediately pressed against him in her sleep.

Dean smiled easily and picked up his beer again. “Tied in nicely with the whole R. and R. weekend. We were just killing time together, Sammy Boy. I guess you don’t know how that is.” Dean wished he didn’t, the whole experience with meeting up accidentally with Faith and getting left by her again, somehow sucked worse than when he reunited and parted from Cassie last year.

Dean grew so tired of it all, the hunting, never leading a normal life because he had to keep on saving people and now who would save him? Maybe he wanted a ‘functional’ life too, he knew he did and he knew also it was never coming his way, not now.

***
Tuesday
Dublin
***
The daffodils stood to attention in their display vase in yellow glory. The wiry red-headed man in the dark gray suit admired them. The main trouble with having a girlfriend who worked in a florist shop was that it seemed silly somehow to get her flowers as a welcome back gesture. He hoped therefore Faith didn’t think the present he left for her on his way to work this morning a foolish gesture.

Faith returned to the flower shop from her morning jaunt to the post office. She tossed down the collected envelopes on the shop counter and wrapped her green protective apron over her street clothes.

Her boss was busy with another customer. Faith strolled over jauntily to Seamus, wrapping her arms around his neck, giving him a hearty kiss of greeting. It sucked her slaying commitments and his roster at the funeral parlor made her unable to spend the night with him until Thursday.

Seamus grinned down at her mischievously. “Hello stranger, how was London?”

“Good, it was good, so ya here to order what today?” Faith drew back from him to take out her pen from an apron pocket, smiling back warmly. She’d opened her front door this morning to find a selection of fruit flavored yogurts (her favorite) arranged in a heart shape box beside the morning milk and a note saying ‘welcome back angel’.

“He’s a nice guy.” Faith explained, snuggled in Dean’s arms. The birds were singing the dawn chorus out their bedroom window.

“That’s the kiss of death isn’t it? He’s nice. Sounds kinda insipid.” Dean smirked, kissing the top of her head.

“No it’s called ‘functional’.” Faith smacked him playfully on his left bicep, amused at his teasing. “And he has a great sense of humor.”

“Isn’t he an undertaker?” Dean checked, nuzzling her ear. “What the hell can you joke about in that job?”

Seamus pulled out a piece of paper and started ordering from his list. “First up we need a bouquet for a zoo keeper who got mauled to death by a big cat. Anything but tiger lilies.”

***
Tuesday
South Dakota
***
Dean squatted in front of the cooker withdrawing the lasagna from the oven.

“Not bad.” Ellen praised Dean’s foray into the world of actual cooking as opposed to adding boiling water to a ramen noodle packet.

“Ellen… Thanks huh?” Dean placed the steaming lasagna down on the kitchen table. “You should be in Nebraska, overseeing getting your bar rebuilt.”

“That’s right, Mom should be.” Jo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, carrying a suitcase, Bobby standing beside her. “Is anyone here gonna tell me just what the hell is happening?”

Jo’s shining gold hair smelled of fresh green apples as she roughly pushed past Dean to put her case away.

Dean imagined pinning her against the kitchen counter and kissing her long and slow, partly because he always wanted to and partly because it would make him stop thinking about Faith.


***
Wednesday
Dublin
***
It was kinda cute Siobhan wore black leather pants and a black leather bomber jacket in sweet imitation of Faith’s normal slaying apparel. Siobhan’s father threw a fit as she walked out the house wearing the garments tonight.

“It’s like watching a baby chick hatch out of its egg.” Siobhan cooed, hopping excitedly from foot to foot, anticipating with relish fighting the vampire clawing its way out of the crumbling fresh grave in Glasnevin Cemetery.

“Or a zit popping,” Faith leaned on a nearby gravestone, sharing a cigarette with Siobhan’s watcher and catching up on the latest slayer news.

An Armageddon demon war seemed ripe to break out with demons in the States - some people were developing psychic powers and having visions of a yellow eyed demon. Curiously a lot of them had mothers who died in house fires when they were six months old. (Just like Sam Winchester!) The whole yellow eyed demon situation sounded quite serious. On the good news side a demon ascension had been narrowly foiled in Beijing, by Chao Ahn. Caridad and Xander were presently tied up with stopping an apocalypse in Uganda.

Regretfully or thankfully, Ireland wasn’t an apocalypse occurring country. Faith, Siobhan and another slayer, Katie, located in Belfast, only dealt with run of the mill vampires and the occasional feral werewolf. Faith hadn’t personally faced an end of the world type scenario since the Sunnydale Hellmouth closed permanently for business in 2003.

Faith and the watcher approvingly observed Siobhan’s swift savage fight and subsequent staking short of the fledgling vampire’s existence.

“Not bad, girlfriend.” Faith abandoned her granite perch. “See ya both tomorrow, same bat time, same bat channel.” She crouched over a wreath lying on the disturbed grave before she left the cemetery. A rival flower shop provided the wreath. “Hey, where the hell did these guys get sunflowers out of season?”

“Is it demonic?” Siobhan asked excitedly, the sixteen year old loved killing things and mysteries.

“No, you want demonic? Check out the cover charge of the club I’m going to tonight.” Faith straightened up, put her arms up in the air and twirled tauntingly. “Staking vamps and hearing the ‘Monsters of Rock Inc’ playing as background music. Must suck, tonight being a school night for you.”

But it sucked more for Faith really in the end. The Irish pub band played non-stop heavy metal covers, which reminded Faith nostalgically of Dean.

Fucking pathetic of her, tonight would be the last time she dwelt morbidly on the past and Dean. Faith just needed to get laid again by Seamus to get back on track and tomorrow she would be.

***
Wednesday
South Dakota
***
Whenever Dean spent time in the same room as Jo, the unlikelihood of it ever working out between them glared in his face.

“I did this exorcism on a kid in Duluth.” Jo chuckled, her legs curled under her, nestled in Bobby’s huge leather armchair. “Whoa boy, furniture flying around the room and this soccer mom can’t stop screaming at me. ‘That sofa only got recovered last week, look what you’re doing to it!’ I think Mrs. Donaldson was in shock. She didn’t even thank me afterwards.”

“Don’t ever hold your breath, expecting thanks from someone whose ass you just saved.” Dean spoke from bitter experience from the depths of a squishy giant mustard bean bag.

Bobby’s book and paper strewn living room displayed the eclectic choices of a bachelor who didn’t give a crap about interior aesthetics.

Jo’s appearance in her powder blue long sleeved T-shirt, her blond hair hanging loose and freshly brushed over her shoulders put Dean in mind of figurines his mom used to collect. Dresden China they were called. Like Jo the china dolls milk white skin were touched with pink health on their cheeks. God, Jo was hot.

“I don’t.” Jo propped her chin on her hand, her arm on the armrest of the armchair. Her clear brown eyes gleamed with enthusiasm over what she achieved in the past few months. “But most folks do thank you, Dean. Once they realize what you’ve done for them.”

“Sometimes,” Dean conceded fairly. He could always be fair.

“I’m not an asshole like you are, so I guess the people I help just plain feel more kindly towards me,” Jo grinned at him challengingly. “And I’m better looking.”

“Yeah, can’t argue.” Dean put his head back between his hands in peacock display, he wasn’t exactly ugly himself.

Jo not being vision impaired was fully aware of Dean’s weather-beaten attractiveness. Sam while possessed by a demon told Jo Dean would never be interested in Jo, Dean saw her as a little sister. Dean’s eyes checking her out every chance he got today didn’t come across as being fraternally neutral to her.

Demons lied mostly. Jo wanted Dean so bad.

Dean knew Jo liked him and he liked her back. He admired her sassiness and strength of character. But she’d want more than he was free to ever give now. A shame, because he needed to get laid as soon as possible to drive the memories of Faith out of his head.

***
Thursday
Dublin
***
Framed photographs of the Acropolis decorated the white walls, mandolin music played in the background. It would have to be a Greek restaurant, Seamus chose for their first date since she arrived back in Dublin. Faith didn’t enjoy eating in Greek restaurants and it had nothing to do with not liking lamb, although the meat was kind of greasy when she thought about it.

The hunky, goatee beard sporting, waiter brought over the menu for Faith to read. The waiter was a fellow American, over in Ireland for a working vacation. Faith flirted with him to fill in her time waiting for Seamus to finally arrive.

No one could claim to be truly late for anything in the twenty-first century due to cell phones and warning messages. This was however the third time Seamus ran late while meeting her.

Good thing Robin wasn’t the one dating Seamus, the ex-principal would have a nervous breakdown over the guy’s unpunctuality.

Seamus arrived apologetically at last, dinner was consumed, hands were held across the table, footsie was played under it, and desert was skipped so they could hurry back to Faith’s place.

Fumbling, frottage, fingering, fellating, fucking, falling asleep satiated.

A painful kick on his calf caused Seamus to awake groggily at three in the morning. Faith moved her legs, running in her sleep, talking to herself.

“Diana? No, no, no. No words to describe what he did to her.” Faith muttered distressed in her R.E.M. sleep. “No.”

“Faith.” Seamus shook her awake gently. “You’re dreaming, girlie.”

Faith opened her eyes and took in her familiar surroundings with a gulp of relief.

Nightmares were why Faith hated dining at Greek restaurants. Sometimes dreaming about the way Kakistos killed her watcher would make her scream out loud.

***
Thursday
South Dakota
***
Going out to a local bar with Sam and Bobby on half price drink night seemed the easiest solution to getting laid, not hurting Jo and pushing all melancholy memories of Faith to one side.

Like Goldilocks evaluating bowls of oatmeal, Dean faced two sexual choices tonight. Firstly Marilyn, who had a good figure but was ugly from the neck up and dumb as road-kill, and secondly Tierra, shy and mousy, flat as a pancake, but otherwise not barf inducing.

Dean decided Tierra looked the easiest no frills lay judging from the way she was sitting on her bar stool. He bought her a drink and started quickly hitting on her, taking her out the back where they could talk in ‘private’.

Suave compliments throwing her off balance, seductive kissing, shedding enough clothes to enable him to slip inside her, screwing her hard against a wall, squeals, (Holy crap, Tierra sounded like a sow at the county fair when she came), shuddering to a swift release. Wham Bam Thank-you Ma’am.

Faith who?

***
Friday Night
Dublin
***
Why was the missing mate of an earring never where you thought it would be? Faith searched under her dressing table. No, not there.

She walked out into her living room.

“You look nice.” Seamus approved, resplendent in his own Friday night best.

“Thanks.” Faith smoothed down her black mini dress, pleased at his praise. She bent over her couch, hunting behind cushions for the damn earring.

“You can see your knickers when you do that. If you can call that slip of fabric barely covering your bum, underwear.” Seamus changed channels on the TV set. “Does it match your bra?”

“Wait and see, babe.” Faith squatted on the floor and peered under the couch. No, not there.

She tried the kitchen and knocked over the dishwashing liquid on the bench into an open drawer. Crap, liquid soap all over the freaking tea towels. Hey and there was her earring!

The telephone rang. Who the hell called her home number on a Friday night? She’d listed herself on Eircom as being unavailable to telemarketers.

“Could you get that Seamus, thanks?” Faith tried to stop the spread of soap onto her kitchen linen.

Seamus came into the kitchen and held out the cordless telephone to her. “It’s a Yank called Dean for you. He says it’s urgent.”

***
“How didja get my number?” was Faith’s immediate shocked response to Dean’s phone call out of the blue.

“Faith, just listen to me, huh?” Dean and Sam googled the Irish white pages online. There were only six F. Lehanes listed for the whole of Dublin and Dean remembered what suburb Faith said she lived in. “Sam’s had a vision and you’re in serious shit.”

***
Friday Night continued
Dublin
***
Faith opened her hot water cylinder cupboard and pulled out a tomahawk she stored there so it wouldn’t rust.

Faith began to ransack her kitchen pantry, and there behind the garlic powder lay the unopened packet of sea salt. Faith ripped a hole in it with her teeth.

Faith grabbed her milk frother off the coffee mug shelf. The most useless wedding present in existence was finally about to be put to good use.

She smashed the bottom off the glass frother and poured the rock salt packet inside the upturned glass cylinder.

Seamus came into the kitchen puzzled. “Are we leaving anytime soon tonight? What on Earth are you doing?”

Her front door bell rang. Faith opened her kitchen window.

“Don’t answer the door.” Faith warned Seamus quietly, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Seamus demanded impatiently. “And who the hell was that on the phone?”

The door buckled as someone, or ‘something’ slammed against it repeatedly.

“Get down!” Faith screamed at Seamus, jerking him down onto the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing, woman?” Seamus yelled, pushing himself up from the tiles. How the bloody hell had his slender girlfriend just managed to achieve knocking him to the ground?

Faith placed her high heeled foot between his shoulder blades and pressed him safely back down on the tiles, how dominatrix of her.

The front door burst open, a lumbering animated corpse came into the living room. It was the cute waiter from the Greek restaurant last night, well formerly cute waiter anyway.

“Holy Mary mother of God!” Seamus felt relieved he had good bladder control.

“Stay down, don’t let it bite you, it’s after me.” Faith kept pressing her boyfriend down on the floor.

The zombie jerked a path into the kitchen. “For Kakistos I live, for Kakistos you’ll die. I'm going to rip your spine from your body, eat your heart and suck the marrow from your bones in his name.” It informed her in the rotting tones of the grave.

“I’m happy for you, pal, I like chicken myself.” Faith stood guard over Seamus. “Make your move.” Kakistos? Kakistos! She’d freak out later when she had the luxury of time to process a panic attack over this unwelcome development in her life.

The zombie reached out its clawed hands to strangle, choking her. Faith stabbed the jagged edged milk frother over his chest and pushed down the plunger.

“Recedo immunda phasmatis!” She coughed furiously. That son of a bitch vampire, screwing up her Friday night plans eight and a half years after she killed him; some undead were real assholes.

Ebony smoke billowed from the zombie’s mouth as the salt exorcised the demon within the dead waiter, flowing out the kitchen window in a black filth.

Faith snatched her tomahawk off the kitchen bench and lopped the zombie’s head off in one powerful stroke.

The zombie collapsed lifeless on the floor a mere dead decapitated body.

Faith removed her shoe off a struggling Seamus’s back to allow him to rise.

Seamus nudged the corpse cautiously with his foot. “Faith darling, I appreciate ladies with hidden depths, but is there something you’re possibly needing to be sharing with me?”

***
Friday Afternoon
South Dakota
***
“God, I hope she’s alright.” Dean paced Bobby’s kitchen floor, tense with anxiety.

“So who’s Faith?” Jo pursed her lips in suspicious inquiry.

“This ex-teen runaway Dad helped out one summer almost ten years ago. I ran into her last weekend. She’s got kinda porky, poor chick.” Dean picked up the phone receiver unable to restrain himself any longer to check that Faith was okay.

***
Friday Night Continued
Dublin
***
This guy was a total keeper sadly. Faith couldn’t believe how well he took everything she told him.

“A vampire slayer?” Seamus tapped the beer bottle thoughtfully against his lips as they drank in the living room together. “All things being equal this must be an improvement on the time I found out one of my ex-girlfriends was breaking up with me to become a nun.”

“Don’t you want to dump me over it or tell me vampires and demons don’t exist and I drugged your beer earlier?” Faith sculled back her own beer, she needed Seamus to leave soon so she could smash something because tonight Kakistos reached out from Hades to try and kill her. Faith then needed to call up Giles or Andrew and find out how the hell it was all possible.

“I knew vampires existed.” Seamus twisted his mouth wryly. “I work in a funeral parlor, Faith. I’ve seen a lot of peculiar things in my time.”

“I’m real sorry about this, but I’m gonna hafta break up with you instead.” Faith sighed regretfully.

“And why’s that?” Seamus asked unflappably, taking another swig of beer.

“Because I’m gonna hafta go to the U.S. to help stop an apocalypse and it might be a one way trip.” Faith lit a cigarette with steady hands, not betraying the turmoil she felt inside. Dean would not welcome her presence or interference in his and Sam’s lives and as a slayer she needed to be involved in whatever would happen to Sam. She suspected Dean hid something to do with Sam when she was with him five days ago. “I don’t want to... break up with you.”

Seamus narrowed his eyes shrewdly. “Don’t then.”

The telephone rang. Faith picked it up. “Hi. I’m fine. Thanks for the heads up. I’m kinda busy right now, bud. Call me back tomorrow if you want. You too. Bye.”

Seamus passed her the ash tray. “‘Dean’ eh? Who’s he exactly again?”

“He’s my cousin, sorta.” Faith flicked her ash into the proffered crystal ashtray innocently. “Poor guy has terrible acne scars.”
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Like an eagle flying with the dove [May. 17th, 2007|11:29 pm]
AN: Faith and Dean continue to lie, so will utter statements that do not seem canon and will even contradict this story so far.

A milk frother resembles a small coffee plunger, you pour warm milk inside the small glass cylinder and plunge the fine mesh screen plunger part up and down, to make the milky frothy tops for cappuccinos.

Many thanks to Jennylal for checking over Irish dialog.


PART TWO:spoiler alert for season 2 finale in Supernatural

***
Monday
Atlantic Ocean
***

Faith never got why people complained about airline food, growing up on her mom’s lack of cooking skills made Faith appreciate receiving a decent meal.

The returning Irish backpacker seated beside her, screwed up his face at the dismal dehydrated desert on his tray. “You wouldn’t get slop like this in feckin’ prison.”

Faith contentedly spooned down her dry cheesecake. “Ya dead right, you wouldn’t,” she agreed heartily, although sadly even prison food proved to be an improvement on Mom’s. Faith’s meals arrived regularly in prison.

The onboard movie took her mind off her thoughts of the last two days temporarily.

Faith going down on Dean in the shower. Dean banging her on the couch to ‘test the quality of the new cushion’. Dean’s carefree and fond expression when he looked at her after they finished screwing on the kitchen table. What did she look like to him in those moments? Sweaty probably.

Faith sipped her white wine in its plastic glass, trying to concentrate on the antics of Tim Allen on screen. Thank god her normal life could resume soon.

Dean squeezing her tight when he kissed her good-bye, like he never wanted to let her go. The way his stubble grazed her inner thigh…

“Uh, you majored in Tax Laws at Dublin City University?” Faith took her headphones off and nudged her seat row companion filling in a Sudoku puzzle square. “That sounds damn fascinating, bud. Tell me about it.”

***
Monday
South Dakota
***
Bobby Singer napped in his bedroom, worn out from an all night online game. Ellen Harvelle shopped at the nearest store for tonight’s meal.

“So your weekend break work, dude? Did you finally rest like I begged you to?” Sam fetched Dean a beer from the refrigerator. “All mentally refreshed? Got your head together over all the crap that’s gonna start happening soon?” Sam would save Dean, somehow.

“Yeah.” Dean sank back in a leather armchair and drank the beer gratefully. “I ran into Boston-Faith we met in Florida, she’s alive.”

“Faith? ‘Wicked’ ‘Five by five’ Faith from back when we were kids?” Sam’s face broke into a broad smile. “That’s great! How is she?”

“She’s good.” Dean put his beer down, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “Lives in Ireland now, she stayed in Bobby’s cabin for two nights on her way back there. But yeah, like I said she’s good, she’s got kinda boring to be brutally honest.”

Sam rolled his eyes in utter disbelief. “You slept with her again didn’t you?”

Faith lay curled up beside Dean in bed, he listened to her breathe in the darkness. He placed his arm around her protectively and she immediately pressed against him in her sleep.

Dean smiled easily and picked up his beer again. “Tied in nicely with the whole R. and R. weekend. We were just killing time together, Sammy Boy. I guess you don’t know how that is.” Dean wished he didn’t, the whole experience with meeting up accidentally with Faith and getting left by her again, somehow sucked worse than when he reunited and parted from Cassie last year.

Dean grew so tired of it all, the hunting, never leading a normal life because he had to keep on saving people and now who would save him? Maybe he wanted a ‘functional’ life too, he knew he did and he knew also it was never coming his way, not now.

***
Tuesday
Dublin
***
The daffodils stood to attention in their display vase in yellow glory. The wiry red-headed man in the dark gray suit admired them. The main trouble with having a girlfriend who worked in a florist shop was that it seemed silly somehow to get her flowers as a welcome back gesture. He hoped therefore Faith didn’t think the present he left for her on his way to work this morning a foolish gesture.

Faith returned to the flower shop from her morning jaunt to the post office. She tossed down the collected envelopes on the shop counter and wrapped her green protective apron over her street clothes.

Her boss was busy with another customer. Faith strolled over jauntily to Seamus, wrapping her arms around his neck, giving him a hearty kiss of greeting. It sucked her slaying commitments and his roster at the funeral parlor made her unable to spend the night with him until Thursday.

Seamus grinned down at her mischievously. “Hello stranger, how was London?”

“Good, it was good, so ya here to order what today?” Faith drew back from him to take out her pen from an apron pocket, smiling back warmly. She’d opened her front door this morning to find a selection of fruit flavored yogurts (her favorite) arranged in a heart shape box beside the morning milk and a note saying ‘welcome back angel’.

“He’s a nice guy.” Faith explained, snuggled in Dean’s arms. The birds were singing the dawn chorus out their bedroom window.

“That’s the kiss of death isn’t it? He’s nice. Sounds kinda insipid.” Dean smirked, kissing the top of her head.

“No it’s called ‘functional’.” Faith smacked him playfully on his left bicep, amused at his teasing. “And he has a great sense of humor.”

“Isn’t he an undertaker?” Dean checked, nuzzling her ear. “What the hell can you joke about in that job?”

Seamus pulled out a piece of paper and started ordering from his list. “First up we need a bouquet for a zoo keeper who got mauled to death by a big cat. Anything but tiger lilies.”

***
Tuesday
South Dakota
***
Dean squatted in front of the cooker withdrawing the lasagna from the oven.

“Not bad.” Ellen praised Dean’s foray into the world of actual cooking as opposed to adding boiling water to a ramen noodle packet.

“Ellen… Thanks huh?” Dean placed the steaming lasagna down on the kitchen table. “You should be in Nebraska, overseeing getting your bar rebuilt.”

“That’s right, Mom should be.” Jo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, carrying a suitcase, Bobby standing beside her. “Is anyone here gonna tell me just what the hell is happening?”

Jo’s shining gold hair smelled of fresh green apples as she roughly pushed past Dean to put her case away.

Dean imagined pinning her against the kitchen counter and kissing her long and slow, partly because he always wanted to and partly because it would make him stop thinking about Faith.


***
Wednesday
Dublin
***
It was kinda cute Siobhan wore black leather pants and a black leather bomber jacket in sweet imitation of Faith’s normal slaying apparel. Siobhan’s father threw a fit as she walked out the house wearing the garments tonight.

“It’s like watching a baby chick hatch out of its egg.” Siobhan cooed, hopping excitedly from foot to foot, anticipating with relish fighting the vampire clawing its way out of the crumbling fresh grave in Glasnevin Cemetery.

“Or a zit popping,” Faith leaned on a nearby gravestone, sharing a cigarette with Siobhan’s watcher and catching up on the latest slayer news.

An Armageddon demon war seemed ripe to break out with demons in the States - some people were developing psychic powers and having visions of a yellow eyed demon. Curiously a lot of them had mothers who died in house fires when they were six months old. (Just like Sam Winchester!) The whole yellow eyed demon situation sounded quite serious. On the good news side a demon ascension had been narrowly foiled in Beijing, by Chao Ahn. Caridad and Xander were presently tied up with stopping an apocalypse in Uganda.

Regretfully or thankfully, Ireland wasn’t an apocalypse occurring country. Faith, Siobhan and another slayer, Katie, located in Belfast, only dealt with run of the mill vampires and the occasional feral werewolf. Faith hadn’t personally faced an end of the world type scenario since the Sunnydale Hellmouth closed permanently for business in 2003.

Faith and the watcher approvingly observed Siobhan’s swift savage fight and subsequent staking short of the fledgling vampire’s existence.

“Not bad, girlfriend.” Faith abandoned her granite perch. “See ya both tomorrow, same bat time, same bat channel.” She crouched over a wreath lying on the disturbed grave before she left the cemetery. A rival flower shop provided the wreath. “Hey, where the hell did these guys get sunflowers out of season?”

“Is it demonic?” Siobhan asked excitedly, the fifteen year old loved killing things and mysteries.

“No, you want demonic? Check out the cover charge of the club I’m going to tonight.” Faith straightened up, put her arms up in the air and twirled tauntingly. “Staking vamps and hearing the ‘Monsters of Rock Inc’ playing as background music. Must suck, tonight being a school night for you.”

But it sucked more for Faith really in the end. The Irish pub band played non-stop heavy metal covers, which reminded Faith nostalgically of Dean.

Fucking pathetic of her, tonight would be the last time she dwelt morbidly on the past and Dean. Faith just needed to get laid again by Seamus to get back on track and tomorrow she would be.

***
Wednesday
South Dakota
***
Whenever Dean spent time in the same room as Jo, the unlikelihood of it ever working out between them glared in his face.

“I did this exorcism on a kid in Duluth.” Jo chuckled, her legs curled under her, nestled in Bobby’s huge leather armchair. “Whoa boy, furniture flying around the room and this soccer mom can’t stop screaming at me. ‘That sofa only got recovered last week, look what you’re doing to it!’ I think Mrs. Donaldson was in shock. She didn’t even thank me afterwards.”

“Don’t ever hold your breath, expecting thanks from someone whose ass you just saved.” Dean spoke from bitter experience from the depths of a squishy giant mustard bean bag.

Bobby’s book and paper strewn living room displayed the eclectic choices of a bachelor who didn’t give a crap about interior aesthetics.

Jo’s appearance in her powder blue long sleeved T-shirt, her blond hair hanging loose and freshly brushed over her shoulders put Dean in mind of figurines his mom used to collect. Dresden China they were called. Like Jo the china dolls milk white skin were touched with pink health on their cheeks. God, Jo was hot.

“I don’t.” Jo propped her chin on her hand, her arm on the armrest of the armchair. Her clear brown eyes gleamed with enthusiasm over what she achieved in the past few months. “But most folks do thank you, Dean. Once they realize what you’ve done for them.”

“Sometimes,” Dean conceded fairly. He could always be fair.

“I’m not an asshole like you are, so I guess the people I help just plain feel more kindly towards me,” Jo grinned at him challengingly. “And I’m better looking.”

“Yeah, can’t argue.” Dean put his head back between his hands in peacock display, he wasn’t exactly ugly himself.

Jo not being vision impaired was fully aware of Dean’s weather-beaten attractiveness. Sam while possessed by a demon told Jo Dean would never be interested in Jo, Dean saw her as a little sister. Dean’s eyes checking her out every chance he got today didn’t come across as being fraternally neutral to her.

Demons lied mostly. Jo wanted Dean so bad.

Dean knew Jo liked him and he liked her back. He admired her sassiness and strength of character. But she’d want more than he was free to ever give now. A shame, because he needed to get laid as soon as possible to drive the memories of Faith out of his head.

***
Thursday
Dublin
***
Framed photographs of the Acropolis decorated the white walls, mandolin music played in the background. It would have to be a Greek restaurant, Seamus chose for their first date since she arrived back in Dublin. Faith didn’t enjoy eating in Greek restaurants and it had nothing to do with not liking lamb, although the meat was kind of greasy when she thought about it.

The hunky, goatee beard sporting, waiter brought over the menu for Faith to read. The waiter was a fellow American, over in Ireland for a working vacation. Faith flirted with him to fill in her time waiting for Seamus to finally arrive.

No one could claim to be truly late for anything in the twenty-first century due to cell phones and warning messages. This was however the third time Seamus ran late while meeting her.

Good thing Robin wasn’t the one dating Seamus, the ex-principal would have a nervous breakdown over the guy’s unpunctuality.

Seamus arrived apologetically at last, dinner was consumed, hands were held across the table, footsie was played under it, and desert was skipped so they could hurry back to Faith’s place.

Fumbling, frottage, fingering, fellating, fucking, falling asleep satiated.

A painful kick on his calf caused Seamus to awake groggily at three in the morning. Faith moved her legs, running in her sleep, talking to herself.

“Diana? No, no, no. No words to describe what he did to her.” Faith muttered distressed in her R.E.M. sleep. “No.”

“Faith.” Seamus shook her awake gently. “You’re dreaming, girlie.”

Faith opened her eyes and took in her familiar surroundings with a gulp of relief.

Nightmares were why Faith hated dining at Greek restaurants. Sometimes dreaming about the way Kakistos killed her watcher would make her scream out loud.

***
Thursday
South Dakota
***
Going out to a local bar with Sam and Bobby on half price drink night seemed the easiest solution to getting laid, not hurting Jo and pushing all melancholy memories of Faith to one side.

Like Goldilocks evaluating bowls of oatmeal, Dean faced two sexual choices tonight. Firstly Marilyn, who had a good figure but was ugly from the neck up and dumb as road-kill, and secondly Tierra, shy and mousy, flat as a pancake, but otherwise not barf inducing.

Dean decided Tierra looked the easiest no frills lay judging from the way she was sitting on her bar stool. He bought her a drink and started quickly hitting on her, taking her out the back where they could talk in ‘private’.

Suave compliments throwing her off balance, seductive kissing, shedding enough clothes to enable him to slip inside her, screwing her hard against a wall, squeals, (Holy crap, Tierra sounded like a sow at the county fair when she came), shuddering to a swift release. Wham Bam Thank-you Ma’am.

Faith who?

***
Friday Night
Dublin
***
Why was the missing mate of an earring never where you thought it would be? Faith searched under her dressing table. No, not there.

She walked out into her living room.

“You look nice.” Seamus approved, resplendent in his own Friday night best.

“Thanks.” Faith smoothed down her black mini dress, pleased at his praise. She bent over her couch, hunting behind cushions for the damn earring.

“You can see your knickers when you do that. If you can call that slip of fabric barely covering your bum, underwear.” Seamus changed channels on the TV set. “Does it match your bra?”

“Wait and see, babe.” Faith squatted on the floor and peered under the couch. No, not there.

She tried the kitchen and knocked over the dishwashing liquid on the bench into an open drawer. Crap, liquid soap all over the freaking tea towels. Hey and there was her earring!

The telephone rang. Who the hell called her home number on a Friday night? She’d listed herself on Eircom as being unavailable to telemarketers.

“Could you get that Seamus, thanks?” Faith tried to stop the spread of soap onto her kitchen linen.

Seamus came into the kitchen and held out the cordless telephone to her. “It’s a Yank called Dean for you. He says it’s urgent.”

***
“How didja get my number?” was Faith’s immediate shocked response to Dean’s phone call out of the blue.

“Faith, just listen to me, huh?” Dean and Sam googled the Irish white pages online. There were only six F. Lehanes listed for the whole of Dublin and Dean remembered what suburb Faith said she lived in. “Sam’s had a vision and you’re in serious shit.”

***
Friday Night continued
Dublin
***
Faith opened her hot water cylinder cupboard and pulled out a tomahawk she stored there so it wouldn’t rust.

Faith began to ransack her kitchen pantry, and there behind the garlic powder lay the unopened packet of sea salt. Faith ripped a hole in it with her teeth.

Faith grabbed her milk frother off the coffee mug shelf. The most useless wedding present in existence was finally about to be put to good use.

She smashed the bottom off the glass frother and poured the rock salt packet inside the upturned glass cylinder.

Seamus came into the kitchen puzzled. “Are we leaving anytime soon tonight? What on Earth are you doing?”

Her front door bell rang. Faith opened her kitchen window.

“Don’t answer the door.” Faith warned Seamus quietly, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Seamus demanded impatiently. “And who the hell was that on the phone?”

The door buckled as someone, or ‘something’ slammed against it repeatedly.

“Get down!” Faith screamed at Seamus, jerking him down onto the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing woman?” Seamus yelled, pushing himself up from the tiles. How the bloody hell had his slender girlfriend just managed to achieve knocking him to the ground?

Faith placed her high heeled foot between his shoulder blades and pressed him safely back down on the tiles, how dominatrix of her.

The front door burst open, a lumbering animated corpse came into the living room. It was the cute waiter from the Greek restaurant last night, well formerly cute waiter anyway.

“Holy Mary mother of God!” Seamus felt relieved he had good bladder control.

“Stay down, don’t let it bite you, it’s after me.” Faith kept pressing her boyfriend down on the floor.

The zombie jerked a path into the kitchen. “For Kakistos I live, for Kakistos you’ll die. I'm going to rip your spine from your body, eat your heart and suck the marrow from your bones in his name.” It informed her in the rotting tones of the grave.

“I’m happy for you, pal, I like chicken myself.” Faith stood guard over Seamus. “Make your move.” Kakistos? Kakistos! She’d freak out later when she had the luxury of time to process a panic attack over this unwelcome development in her life.

The zombie reached out its clawed hands to strangle, choking her. Faith stabbed the jagged edged milk frother over his chest and pushed down the plunger.

“Recedo immunda phasmatis!” She coughed furiously. That son of a bitch vampire, screwing up her Friday night plans eight and a half years after she killed him; some undead were real assholes.

Ebony smoke billowed from the zombie’s mouth as the salt exorcised the demon within the dead waiter, flowing out the kitchen window in a black filth.

Faith snatched her tomahawk off the kitchen bench and lopped the zombie’s head off in one powerful stroke.

The zombie collapsed lifeless on the floor a mere dead decapitated body.

Faith removed her shoe off a struggling Seamus’s back to allow him to rise.

Seamus nudged the corpse cautiously with his foot. “Faith darling, I appreciate ladies with hidden depths, but is there something you’re possibly needing to be sharing with me?”

***
Friday Afternoon
South Dakota
***
“God, I hope she’s alright.” Dean paced Bobby’s kitchen floor, tense with anxiety.

“So who’s Faith?” Jo arched an eyebrow in suspicious inquiry.

“This ex-teen runaway Dad helped out one summer almost ten years ago. I ran into her last weekend. She’s got kinda porky, poor chick.” Dean picked up the phone receiver unable to restrain himself any longer to check that Faith was okay.

***
Friday Night Continued
Dublin
***
This guy was a total keeper sadly. Faith couldn’t believe how well he took everything she told him.

“A vampire slayer?” Seamus tapped the beer bottle thoughtfully against his lips as they drank in the living room together. “All things being equal this must be an improvement on the time I found out one of my ex-girlfriends was breaking up with me to become a nun.”

“Don’t you want to dump me over it or tell me vampires and demons don’t exist and I drugged your beer earlier?” Faith sculled back her own beer, she needed Seamus to leave soon so she could smash something because tonight Kakistos reached out from Hades to try and kill her. Faith then needed to call up Giles or Andrew and find out how the hell it was all possible.

“I knew vampires existed.” Seamus twisted his mouth wryly. “I work in a funeral parlor, Faith. I’ve seen a lot of peculiar things in my time.”

“I’m real sorry about this, but I’m gonna hafta break up with you instead.” Faith sighed regretfully.

“And why’s that?” Seamus asked unflappably, taking another swig of beer.

“Because I’m gonna hafta go to the U.S. to help stop an apocalypse and it might be a one way trip.” Faith lit a cigarette with steady hands, not betraying the turmoil she felt inside. Dean would not welcome her presence or interference in his and Sam’s lives and as a slayer she needed to be involved in whatever would happen to Sam. She suspected Dean hid something to do with Sam when she was with him five days ago. “I don’t want to... break up with you.”

Seamus narrowed his eyes shrewdly. “Don’t then.”

The telephone rang. Faith picked it up. “Hi. I’m fine. Thanks for the heads up. I’m kinda busy right now, bud. Call me back tomorrow if you want. You too. Bye.”

Seamus passed her the ash tray. “‘Dean’ eh? Who’s he exactly again?”

“He’s my cousin, sorta.” Faith flicked her ash into the proffered crystal ashtray innocently. “Poor guy has terrible acne scars.”
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Nothing else matters Chapter eight: Comfortably Numb [May. 16th, 2007|03:25 pm]
Comfortably numb
***
2007
***

“True?” Faith chuckled, the late morning light in the bedroom revealing the shabby furniture, her chin resting on Dean’s chest.

“Uh huh. Not my finest moment.” Dean played with her long hair, letting a thick strand’s silken mass slip through his fingers.

“I gotta leave soon, Dean.” Faith sighed regretfully.

“I know.” Dean plaited a lock of her hair experimentally.

“Everything’s okay with you, right?” Faith pressed her fingers up and down on his skin, picking out a silent tune on a rib cage piano.

“Yeah. Everything’s great. Why do you ask?” Dean tried twisting her hair into a knot.

“No reason. Stop fidgeting with my hair for Christ’s sake. What are you, a closet hairdresser?” Faith laughed, pulling his hand away from her hair.

“Didn’t Warren Beatty get laid a lot in ‘Shampoo’?” Dean held her still.

They lay quiet in each others arms for a few minutes.

Faith rose from bed. “I wanna shower by myself or I’ll never leave.”

“That’s all it would take to make you stay in the States, me soaping your back?” Dean mocked, getting up also.

“Leave on time.” Faith picked up her towel.

“Can I make you coffee, before you depart this land’s amber fields of grain and purpled mountained majesty, forever?”

“Sure.” Faith hurried to the bathroom. She whizzed through washing herself, brushing her teeth quickly. A once over glance at the bathroom confirmed she left nothing behind. She observed Dean staring into space in the kitchen area as she walked through the main room.

Back in the bedroom she pulled on her clothes, running a comb impatiently through the knots in her hair. Freaking Dean and his hair fetish.

She carried her bag into the living room and took the offered cup of coffee from him, pouring it down her throat hastily.

“Don’t come out to the car. Go back to bed, have a lie in or something.” Faith pressed her mouth briefly against his.

It seemed her thoughts were already a million miles away from him. She obviously couldn’t wait to return to her ‘functional’ life in Ireland.

“Good-bye Faith. God speed I guess.” Dean snatched her towards him for one final proper kiss.

Faith surrendered to his needy, groping, farewell kiss with ill grace.

“You’re getting all maudlin and shit. Cut it out.” She picked up her bag and purse. “Bye Dean, good to run into you again.”

She could have said, ‘say hello to Sam’, but she was out the door, skip-walking down the steps, getting in her car and pulling away from the cabin without a backwards glance.

She beeped her horn twice in a cheerful good bye as she reached the graveled road. That was something at least, Dean supposed.

“Hey Faith,” Dean said out loud to the empty cabin. “Guess what? I really did love you back then, sweetheart."

***
1998
California
***

“You promise you’ll write?” Dean scooped Faith up in his arms, cradling her as they floated together in the warm Pacific Ocean off San Diego’s coast.

“Maybe a post card.” Faith’s teeth grazed his neck, she sucked gently at his throat, tasting the salt on his skin. Marking her territory like a dog pissing on a tree. See that hickey, - hot prettier chicks than her, in haunted distress? She had him first; Faith Loser-freak Lehane had Dean Vanilla Winchester for six beautiful weeks.

“I’ll miss you.” Dean whispered awkwardly. He wondered where she would go tomorrow morning, she always lied about her destination, it had been San Francisco the first week with them, and now Los Angeles.

“You’ll miss getting laid every night.” Faith buried her face in his neck, holding him so hard and so close.

“No, I’ll miss you.” Dean insisted. Did she have to go? He knew she did, but he could come visit her. They needn’t lose touch.

Faith hoped if she lived, she could write a letter to Sammy’s permanent address during school time. And she’d go to Kansas, she’d surprise Dean, she’d tell him everything, he’d tell her he loved her and a herd of flying pigs would go squawking past the farm house his uncle lived in, as Dean and Faith embraced in a field of flowers, like they were in the middle of a freaking deodorant commercial.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, of her to think these dumb, dumb, dreams.

***

Faith lounged bored on a couch in the cheap hotel room by herself.

Dean drank cheap beer with his father in some dive of a hunters bar, meeting up with this guy called Bobby Singer.

Sammy sat sulking in a Greyhound bus bound for Kansas, refusing the offer of a peppermint from the chatty grandmother squashed beside him.

***

One more night left with Dean, Faith hugged her knees for comfort as she huddled on the couch, trying not to freak out over her uncertain future. One more night of feeling safe in his arms. She’d hitch-hike north tomorrow morning.

A knock came on the hotel door. Faith peered through the spy-hole. Grady Foster stood outside in the musty carpeted passageway, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and surfer shorts.

“What?” Faith spoke to him through the narrow gap the chain on the door allowed. “I’m not interested, retard, get it through your thick skull.”

“Look out your window, Faithie.” Foster instructed panicked.

Faith hastened over to the window and saw Kakistos and three vampires crawling like leeches up the wall of the building across the road.

***

“But they’ve gotta be safe!” Faith insisted to Foster in the elevator.

“Relax, concentrate on saving your own neck and mine. I sent one of my people to delay them in the bar. The Winchester’s M.O. is wild goose chases, it’s like I keep telling you, kid, they’re amateurs.” Foster hurried her into the dismal lobby, leading her out of the hotel through a side exit.

***

The tattoo parlor stank of nervous sweat and marijuana.

“You can copy her tat. You’re apparently the best.” Foster slapped down one hundred dollars in the tattooist’s outstretched palm. “Now fucking get on with it.”

Faith pulled the blanket back from the naked dead girl, Faith’s height and build, lying on the tattooist’s chair. A grisly neck wound on the corpse’s neck and the girl’s entrails, temporarily contained in a wrapped, taped, plastic trash bag around her ripped open stomach, told the tale of Kakistos’s wrath against Faith.

***

“Put your clothes on her.” Foster laid the dead girl on the deserted warehouse floor near the docks.

Faith pulled her t-shirt and skirt off, followed reluctantly by her underwear.

Foster glared at her. “Hurry up for Christ’s sake. Do you think I’m gonna try and rape you? Get a move on.”

Faith squatted and dressed the dead girl in her clothes.

Foster raised his axe and chopped the possibly turned girl’s head off in one meaty blow.

Faith stared down at the beheaded corpse dispassionately. Faith wasn’t here in this place, with this man, with this dead girl. It wasn’t Faith, it was some other person.

“Now help me carry the stiff’s corpse to the docks and drop it in the harbor. Jesus. Are you going into shock? Harden up cream puff.” Foster slapped Faith with a mighty blow across her face to make her focus.

Faith blinked. “Hit me again, shithead, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

***

Faith raised and lowered herself over Foster’s reasonably sized cock; he sat on a hard chair beneath her oscillating body. He latched his mouth onto her left nipple, releasing it suddenly with a broken suction pop that could be heard above their bodies squelching in the silent room.

Downtown Los Angeles, shimmered in the hot fall sunshine outside their hotel room window.

Their mouths mashed in a passionate kiss.

“C’mon, come, I can’t hold on forever.” Foster gripped the hair at the back of her head painfully. “Come for me, kiddo.”

Faith came, or some other girl did maybe, not her after all.

Foster released himself inside her. “Oh sis.”

“Jesus, ya wicked bent.” Faith rolled her eyes in superior amusement.

Dean and his father were safe, she remained alive and nothing else mattered.

***
2007
South Dakota
***

“When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,” Dean sang along plaintively to the car radio. “Out of the corner of my eye.” Singing along to the radio was a strictly private activity he indulged in during long road trips. “I turned to look but it was gone.”

The rain lurking in the gray skies above, threatening to spill for the past half hour, started to spit down in earnest.

“I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone.” Dean caught himself in horror. He wasn’t moping over Faith, surely?

Yeah, who was he kidding? Their good-bye had been so perfunctory on her part. He expected more from her than she was able to give. He always did he guessed. And although he was glad she was alive, he felt disappointed somehow they’d left each other that way. They could have said more to each other. Dean could have told her how he felt and been honest for once.

And world peace would happen and Mom and Dad would be alive. Dean needed a genie to deliver the magic wish. Was there a pink glass bottle on the side of the highway?

Faith would presently be seated crowded in economy class, on-board an airplane, heading back to her new life in Dublin, hanging out for a beer to be handed to her soon from the drinks trolley by a flight steward.

Dean hoped only the best for her future.

Dean flicked on the windscreen wipers, concentrating on the road ahead in the heavy spring rain.

He reached Bobby’s place by sundown.

Sam waited for Dean inside the house, the younger man punched his brother gently on the shoulder in familial affection, grinning warmly down at Dean, pleased at his safe return, and nothing else mattered.

***

THE END
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Chapter Eight:Because the night [May. 15th, 2007|12:27 pm]
Dean thought of Faith as someone only to get off in? Where the hell did that blatantly false accusation come from? He used her to get off ‘with’ not ‘in’. Faith came far more than he did always when they screwed anyway.

If that crap allegation was true, why back then after they finished having sex, did he talk to her late into the night making her laugh, why did he bring her cups of coffee in bed in the morning occasionally, why did he go out with her to the movies once and take her to a county fair? Why did he instinctively hold her hand whenever they walked down a street together?

He’d always tried to treat her decently when she was a kid. He genuinely cared about her towards the end of their time together.

That comment she hatefully spat at him was so stupid, mean and unfair.

Things had been going real great these past thirty hours, the chance to meet up, to make amends to each other, (to participate in the kind of luxurious, uninterrupted, sex they were never able to have as kids a complete unexpected bonus) and Faith screwed it up with her below the belt slur.

It wasn’t the indignant Dean exactly, who was making a transiently bitter Faith angry and upset, it was remembering anew the whole insane summer of 1998, and the mistakes she made and the horrible things she’d done to enable her survival.

And partly, Faith’s conscience pricked her about cheating on Seamus, her new boyfriend seemed a nice enough guy and she’d be fucked off if he couldn’t hold back one lousy week without screwing around on her. Thank god she was flying back to Ireland on Monday.

Faith moved to leave the bed, intending to sleep in the other room, knowing she’d hurt Dean’s feelings. Faith was glad he felt like shit too. No, she didn’t, Christ, where was her redemption tonight, her emotional progress? She stuffed things up so often with guys. She could even stuff up a closure screw with a teenage ex.

“Don’t go. Stop leaving without saying anything, damn you. Don’t be mad at me, Faith.” Dean begged in supplication, back to being a randy but good hearted nineteen year old who didn’t understand the female mind one iota. Hell, even at twenty-eight he didn’t understand the workings of the typical female mind.

“I’m not.” Faith shrugged, deciding she wouldn’t be, why spoil their remaining time together? “It’s kinda a chilly evening. I’m gonna fetch that crocheted sweater I made, to wear back to bed.”

“But Faith, how can I hold myself back, with you in that Victoria Secrets number?” Dean grinned relieved.

“Be fucked if I know. That sweater would make a monk get a hard on, Romeo.” Faith prepared to nip out into the main room.

Dean got up to go with her, double checking she would come back to bed with him, and to get a glass of water. “Tell yourself that Faith, because only a monk would be that sexually needy.”

“That so? You’ll be banging me in this sweater within the next twenty minutes.” Faith predicted, scooping the garment in question off the back of a chair and slipping it on.

“You want some water too?” Dean, in the process of pouring water into a glass, glanced out the misty kitchen window. Damn, it was a cold evening. He wiped the glass with his hand after he noticed vehicle headlights coming down the road.

“Yeah,” Faith came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, leaning her contrite cheek on his bare back. She felt so gloriously glad they were still pals. They almost blew it back there.

“Hey Faith?” Dean stared appalled out the window at the sheriff’s car slowly cruising the road outside the cabin. “I think we might be might expecting company, sweetheart.”

***
1998
***

The local sheriff’s small town holding cells were small and primitive. The preacher could talk to Faith unimpeded through the bars from the cell beside hers.

Faith climbed up on her cell bunk and examined speculatively the barred window frame of the cell. One sharp tug and she could be free.

“Let me handle this.” Foster urged Faith instead. “Those brain dead religious nuts I saved will have us both bailed and out of here in an hour. We’ll probably get released with dropped charges. Just keep your smart mouth shut.”

“You saved?” Faith climbed down off the bed, remaining clutching around her in belated modesty, the gray blanket the embarrassed ‘family guy’ sheriff gave her the second they reached the jail cell. “You made those fundamentalist retards stop the bus outside my motel, asshole.”

“Well, yeah. I told you I’d be tracking you, kid. Those spook scaring amateurs you’ve been hanging out with, are way too easy to predict movements for.” Foster paced agitatedly in his cell. “And if I can do it, so can Kakistos, once he finds out you’re with the Winchesters. And he’s looking for you, Faithie, he wants your entrails for room decoration, the whole of the demon community in the East Coast and deep South’s trying to find you for the bounty he put out on you this summer. It’s been working for you so far to stay out of sight, but your days are numbered, big time.”

“And you can help me?” Faith repeated, trying to get her head around the bastard’s proposition. “If I screw you, you’ll help me? That’s so frickin’ selfless of you, lover.”

“Yeah, nothing comes free, hasn’t the school of hard knocks taught you that gem yet? Why the hell should I risk my life and not get anything back?” Foster grinned carnally. “Come on, what do you care? Part of you wants to anyway. I think you showed that outside the motel.”

“I was buzzed back there; Santa Claus stickin’ his freakin’ tongue down my throat woulda got me wet.” Faith denied coldly. It was an unfortunate side effect for her of staking vampires. She’d got real horny and felt a fleeting moment of comradeship for him when he kissed her. She’d never met a vampire hunter before Foster.

Foster laughed in her face. “Denial’s a place in Egypt.” He leaned against the bars, his mesmeric eyes and voice playing her. “I’m a kinda complicated man I admit, but nothin’ you couldn’t adjust to temporarily.”

“A vampire hunting lowlife, who gets off on mind games, and wants his dick greased, what the hell’s complicated about that?” Faith guessed she could run away from him once they left town, she’d work the blackmailing prick over first and take whatever cash he carried on him, or she could screw him too, get her food and lodging paid for by his credit card for another week until she reached Sunnydale. Her lifestyle choices were so great this summer.

She must leave the Winchesters now. Sammy saw everything, he’d tell his old man and Dean. The ‘we save damsels in demonic distress on Tuesday’s’ Winchesters would insist on helping her, they’d get tortured to death just like her watcher, and Faith couldn’t take it if that happened to them.

Whereas Faith wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over vampire expert, sexual predator, Foster dying screaming in agony on her behalf.

***
2007
***

“I know the world normally revolves around you in your big head, bud. But it might not be you they’re after.” Faith scrambled into her jeans.

“You don’t say?” Dean hurriedly pulled on a long sleeved t-shirt.

Faith stuffed her feet into her socks and boots. She could end up hiding in the woods tonight. “I haven’t been entirely straight with you, ‘bout why my vacation time in NCWF got cut short.”

“Not straight? But that’s completely out of character for you, baby.” Dean shot at her, before going out into the main room to answer the authoritive knock at the front door.

***
1998
***

“Grab your gear and we’ll go.” Foster hovered over her as Faith knocked on the motel unit door.

Faith shut the door rudely in Foster’s face, leaving him outside as Sammy let her into the motel unit.

“Faith?” Sammy leaned on the door frame, while Faith quickly dressed and feverishly gathered her few belongings together. “Where are you going?”

“California early.” Faith muttered miserably. “Say good bye to ya old man for me. Tell him I said thanks. Tell Dean I said… hell, I dunno, tell him what you want.”

“We’re leaving for California in two days, Faith.” Sammy reminded her. “I know you hate Reverend Sleaze-bag, why are you leaving with him? I didn’t see anything, Faith, nothing I want to know about. I honestly don’t want to know what really happened. I hate all this supernatural crap and I get why you want to stay out of it too.

I can explain everything to Dad. I’ll tell him this fat, old, hysterical lady sat on the chair after the bus crashed here after its rear tyre blew out, and that’s how the chair got broken. I’ve told that to the hotel manager already.

You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Faith. We’ll tell Dad and Dean it was a… um, simple misunderstanding you got arrested by the sheriffs, if the motel manager mentions it to them before they leave today. ”

“I gotta go, Sam.” Faith stood in front of him. “You take care of yourself, huh?”

“You too.” Sammy walked with her to the door.

He watched sadly Faith climb into the Cadillac with the preacher, without a backwards glance at him.

It was four in the morning, the weather continued to make the motel too hot to sleep in. Sammy fixed himself a bowl of cereal and settled down to watch a rerun of Baywatch.

A loud knock came on the door forty minutes later. Sammy peered through the key hole and opened up to a breathless, sweaty, wild eyed, heaving chested Faith.

“Dean and your dad still not here I see, thank freakin’ god.” Faith panted, flinging her bag into the bedroom again. Christ, she didn’t realize she could run miles so fast over a long distance.

“Uh huh.” Sammy put the jug on for coffee. “What made you change your mind?"

Faith threw herself down on the couch, to recover her breath. “The lights were red and that freak, started to explain how he expected me to practice hittin’ a towel with a bullwhip once we got to a hotel, so I could use it on him later.” Faith suspected she’d end up murdering the guy and getting arrested. She’d enjoy the whole power play too much and get carried away. And she still didn’t find Foster complicated.

***
2007
***

“Ya so friggin’ hot when you lie.” Dean closed the door behind the departing sheriff.

“Ditto.” Faith retrieved the flask of whiskey she discovered Dean kept in his jacket hanging on the back of a chair. She took a much needed swig. “Fuck that was close.” She passed the flask over to him.

“A prowler sighted in the area and to be on our guard.” Dean drank from the flask. “Not quite what I was expecting, I gotta say.”

Faith raised her eyes sardonically to the ceiling. “What is, huh?”

“So what were you really inside for, before you escaped?” Dean took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom again.

“None of your business, bud.” Faith removed her socks and boots.

“Arson?” Dean removed his own footwear.

“I’m not telling.” Faith pulled down her jeans and bikini briefs.

“Counterfeiting?” Dean discarded his jeans and boxers.

“Not telling.” Faith repeated, taking off her sweater and bra.

“Some kinda fraud?” Dean persisted, peeling off his upper clothes.

“That’s gotta be your biggest fear there, pal, not mine.” Faith took out a condom from the box on the dresser and tossed it down on a pillow.

They kissed, tasting the whiskey on each others breath, falling back onto the bed together. The old bed emitted a protesting squeak of abused springs.

Fondling and kissing a languored pathway down her body, Dean waited until his face was buried between her open thighs. He circled his tongue softly over her clit.

“Mmm.” Faith pressed her heels deep into the mattress, wallowing in the sensual bliss of his fingers gliding in and out of her wetness, and his tongue lapping at her clit steadily. She clenched her fingers on the flannel sheets, near to her climax.

“You murdered someone didn’t you?” Dean raised his head.

Faith used her right hand to firmly push his head and mouth back down to where they belonged right now. “Not telling!”

Son of a bitch, she’d offed someone! Dean witnessing Faith lying to the local law enforcement in a put on sexy Irish lilt, enabled him to tell when she bluffed.

Dean surrendered his satisfied curiosity to the task at hand. Eating out a murderess, just another run of the mill evening activity for him. He wondered who Faith killed, they probably deserved it.

Faith’s internal muscles clenching around his fingers and the way she cried out her sweet savior’s name in spiritual communion with the universe, signaled to Dean it was gonna be his turn next.

He slithered up her body, his mouth met with an appreciative hard kiss from Faith. He ached to plunge his cock into her bare. God that would rock, to screw her without a latex barrier between them one day.

Faith rolled the condom briskly over his throbbing member and prepared to guide him inside her.

The sound of the living room door being opened made them freeze.

In what was turning out to be the theme of the evening, they jumped out of bed and rapidly pulled on their jeans and tops once more.

“Stay behind me.” Dean whispered protectively, creeping his way to the bedroom door.

“Slayer?” Faith shoved in front of him, flinging open the bedroom door. If it was just kids she’d tell them to scram and if it was adults she’d work out what to do in a second. She didn’t want to hurt anyone and sure as hell wasn’t going to be dialing 911.

“Hey Faith, I’m Connor.” A young white guy dressed in casual gear stood in the living room. “I got passed the wrong address and I’ve been terrifying the bejesus out of the locals trying to work out which cabin was yours.”

Dean watched Faith open her purse and take out a wrapped object.

“Here ya go.” Faith pressed the small parcel into Connor’s hand. “Hope this works for Lorne.”

“Thanks Faith.” Connor saluted her and marched quickly towards the door. “I do too.”

He closed the door behind him and disappeared into the night.

“Who was that guy?” Dean inquired, pushing Faith urgently back to the bedroom. She might pack up and leave immediately, now her mysterious mission that brought her back to the U.S. had obviously been completed.

How could Faith even begin to explain Connor whom she didn’t remember ever meeting?

“Just a guy.” Faith answered vaguely. A guy who needed her help saving the green demon’s life who nursed her caringly and sat beside her failing body in a Los Angeles Hotel so Faith wouldn’t die alone.

Faith hated being back in the U.S., nothing would ever make her live there again, everything here reminded her of bad memories. She could hardly wait to leave the country.

Dean kissed Faith with impassioned ardor knowing he’d never see her again after tonight.

Dean, ever winding up in Ireland?

Hello. Air travel for starters.
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Chapter seven: When doves cry [May. 14th, 2007|11:45 am]
***
2007
***

The row boat sat in the middle of the lake at sunset. The golden and red lake in the rays of the setting sun, contained many wooded islands, and with any good luck, fish. Lake Vermilion, looked very picturesque and crap, Dean pointed out to Faith, enthused.

Faith and Dean drank cold beer and dangled their fishing lines over the side of the boat, planning to catch a walleyed pike for dinner. Neither wore life jackets. Both were cocky about their swimming ability and conscious of continuing to appear devil-may-care in front of the other.

“There’s nothing quite like eating food you’ve killed yourself.” Dean licked his lips with hungry relish.

“What did you mean before, that Sam’s safe with Bobby Singer? Kinda a weird way to describe things.” Faith lit a cigarette, retaining hold of her fishing rod under one armpit.

Dean imagined saying. ‘Sammy boy can see into the friggin’ future. A mega powerful demon wants him to turn evil, so Sammy and other poor saps with gifts like his can be used as the demon’s foot soldiers in an upcoming apocalypse. He’s already murdered someone while possessed by a demon. If Sammy turns evil permanently, I’m gonna hafta kill him like I promised I would to him. Kill my own baby brother. Bobby can watch out for Sammy and protect him for a little while. I just needed to get away from the whole frickin’ mess for two days before I went crazy.’

Dean didn’t want to go into it. Maybe Faith would tell people who would try and kill Sammy if Dean did. She explained her calling and gift was to kill demons.

But Dean would never tell Faith anyway, because he couldn’t off-load his problems onto a chick, even if Faith could be guaranteed to be trusted, Dean needed to be strong and independent, be a man and suck it up. “Sammy’s still kinda clueless.”

“The kid was more switched on than you were back then.” Faith exhaled smoke from between her lips slowly.

***
1998
***

Sammy couldn’t hear so much, as he just knew; Faith lay on the bed sobbing her heart out in her bedroom.

Dean and his Dad, had left Faith and Sam once more to their own devices, to investigate the latest oogly boogly, an hour ago.

Sammy suspected something new had been weighing on Faith’s mind for the past two days, ever since the county fair she went to with Dean.

“Hey Faith, are you alright?” Sammy knocked on the door. “I know you’re crying.”

“I’m freakin’ wicked dandy, just leave me the hell alone!” Faith yelled furiously back at him through the closed door.

Sammy didn’t like to think about her reaction if he went into her room unasked. He picked up his dog eared copy of ‘Lord of the Rings’ and waited on the single bed in the main room.

Faith slouched out into the main room of the motel unit, with blood shot eyes, wrapped in a towel, and headed immediately into the bathroom.

Sammy waited some more.

Faith strutted out of the bathroom in her blue skirt and a black t-shirt, with heavy make-up plastered on. Her too dark lipstick set John’s teeth on edge whenever he saw it smeared on her mouth.

“You can still tell you’ve been bawling, even with that entire truck load of gunk on your face.” Sammy turned a page in his book dispassionately. “Try wet tea bags under your eyes, soaks up the puffiness.”

“Is that what a frickin’ little homo like you uses?” Faith boiled a jug of water and poured it over two tea bags. “When you get picked on at your redneck high school, for being a mutant freak of nature?”

“My aunt does the tea bag routine, bitch. Now stick them in the freezer to cool down.” Sammy instructed. God, Faith was freaking nasty sometimes.

Faith also was someone near Sammy’s own age he’d been hanging out with constantly for over five weeks, and he knew a hell of a lot more about Faith, than big brother Dean or the old man did. Dean screwed Faith before falling asleep and the old man tried to pretend she didn’t exist. It was Sammy who talked the most to Faith, accompanied her on walks exploring the hick towns they found themselves in, played cards with her at night while they watched television together and waited until Dean and John came home.

Faith put the tea bags on a plate and placed them in the ice box of the fridge.

“Is there anything I can do?” Sammy offered awkwardly, he was only fifteen but he knew something was scaring the crap out of her right now. Maybe just maybe, he could do something to make things better for her.

Faith shot him a jaded look, did the pimple faced, beanpole, want her to blow him too? Faith saw Sammy didn’t, he honestly wanted to help her without wanting anything in return.

“Nah.” Faith kicked the fridge with her bare foot in frustration. She put Sammy in mind of a caged restless cougar. “It’s nothin’ I can’t work out on my own.”

Faith put the cold tea bags over her eyes once she lay down on the couch in the main room. “How come you don’t have the hots for me, Uncle Sam, any more than rubber necking at my boobs in cold water when I swim?”

“You’re fugly, you’re short, your body’s kinda out of proportion and you’re real mean sometimes.” Sammy didn’t find Faith attractive at all from the neck up or down, well, maybe her rack. He didn’t get why Dean couldn’t keep his hands off her, Sammy sure could.

“I appreciate you think that, wicked bizarre as it is.” Faith often thought she was fucking ugly too, she wished the rest of mankind shared Sammy’s low opinion of her body. Life would be so much easier that way.

***
2007
***

Still dressed in their fishing clothes Dean and Faith cleaned up after dinner.

“You almost tipped the boat over!” Dean smacked the tea towel on her ass lightly, as they washed the dishes in the kitchen part of the cabin.

“No, you did landing the fish.” Faith flicked soap suds from the draining sink at him.

“Ow. That got in my eye.” Dean held his hand up to his right eye.

“Shit, sorry, ya big sook.” Faith wiped the bench down.

“You could kiss it better.” Dean suggested, hanging the tea towel up to dry.

“Your eyeball?” Faith raised her eyebrows.

“The pain has traveled.” Dean enfolded Faith in his arms again; she felt all warm and curvy pressing into him.

“Let me guess where to.” Faith snickered, snuggling against his chest. Yuck, he smelled of fish guts from scaling and cleaning the fish they caught. “Do you wanna have a shower together and then have an early night?”

Dean checked his watch. “Go to bed at nine? You clearly need all the beauty sleep you can get but I’ll need lots of help getting off.”

“I thought you’d be big on D.I.Y. isn’t that how you must be living most of the time?” Faith guessed cruelly, “If you haven’t had a steady girlfriend in the past two years…”

“I had a long term intimate relationship with a magic fingers bed for a while, but I worked out in the end it was only interested in me for my quarters.” Dean stroked the small of her back. “There’s this girl called Jo, she’s kinda young, but she knows about the life, is starting hunting herself. So at least she’d know what she’d be getting into. Which was always the main problem with that girl, Cassie, I told you about.”

“So what’s stopping you?” Faith’s dark eyes gazed into his imperturbably. She raised her mouth towards his.

“The hallowed memory of you of course, Faith baby, I never got over your faked gruesome death, and you frigging ruined me for any chick who came after you in bed, you were so god-damn incredible in the sack. A guy never forgets his first love or car.” Dean deadpanned joking. ‘Plus Sammy tried to kill Jo while possessed and my old man killed her old man, and that’s a real relationship downer.’ He added mentally.

“We were never in love with each other, Dean.” Faith quirked her mouth in amusement.

“We shoulda been, Faith.” Dean kissed her softly.

Faith broke the kiss. “I thought you were never gonna feed me bullshit lines.”

“I’m not.” Dean kissed her again more firmly, a hint of possessiveness in his touch upon her.

Faith broke the kiss once more and walked away from him quickly. “You stink, pal, let’s shower.”

“I stink? The smoker says, I stink?” Dean switched back to the banter. Damn, he ever tried to be emotionally honest with her and she could never handle it.

***
1998
***

The weather’s temperature made it too hot to wear any clothing. Faith tried to settle on top of her lumpy bed, cursing the fact this motel relied on fans, not air conditioning for cooling. The whirling, noisy, ceiling-fan above her bed merely circulated stifling hot air around the room.

How could she sleep, especially with everything on her mind at present?

At least Dean and his father weren’t here tonight and weren’t expected back until dawn, giving Faith the rare opportunity to be alone with her thoughts.

Faith’s thoughts made crap company. Mostly they consisted of different voices whirling around in her brain, telling her how stupid and worthless she was, how freaking valueless, what a natural loser, a filthy slut and a total freak she was, always had been, always would be.

The screeching sound of a bus coming to a halt outside the motel, came just in time, before Faith started to play back the loop tape in her mind of everything bad and mean her mom ever did and said to her.

Faith heard panicked screams, terrified shouts and feral growls, coming from out in the courtyard. She jumped off the bed, scuttling to the window, pulling open the curtain, peeking through, careful not to expose herself.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Faith’s startled eyes took in a busload of Southern Baptists being attacked by vampires.

Instantly she sprang into action, her slayer instincts kicking into gear. She sprinted into the main room and seized a dining chair, smashing the chair’s front legs on the floor to make a stake.

Sammy came out of his room, clad in boxer shorts, his bony, bare chest glistening with sweat, wide awake, like Faith he found it hard to go to sleep that night. “What’s happening?”

“Just stay inside for Christ’s sake. Don’t whatever you do, let anyone in. Let me handle it.” Faith’s tone made it clear these were life or death instructions she issued.

Faith picked up her stake and ran to the door.

“But Faith, wait… you’re not wearing any… clothes.” Sammy stuttered to the slammed shut motel unit front door. Faith sure did have great hooters, Sammy reflected surreally.

He shuffled over to the front window to peer out, at the incredible scene taking place in the front courtyard of the roadside motel.

The bus outside contained over thirty screaming victims, fleeing into the courtyard, and their demon attackers. Sammy couldn’t work out who was who, at first. The demons would look human, until their visages shifted shape, fangs jutting out of their mouths.

Faith waded into the mêlée, fists flying, delivering powerful uppercut swings at demon jaws, roundhouse kicking and at one stage doing a back-flip against the side of the bus, which bore the logo, ‘New Mexico Southern Baptist Chapter 49’. Seeing how Faith fought stark naked, the sight made Sammy slack jawed with disbelief. It made him kind of horny too.

The preacher from the revival meeting, pulled up ten minutes later, in a rust bucket of an open top, sports Cadillac. He stood up and began firing crossbow bolts. At first Sammy guessed the guy must have crap aim, because the preacher fired a crossbow bolt at one of the bus’s rear tires. After the one misfire however, the preacher began sighting the crossbow at the demons and his aim rocked.

The eight demons exploded into dust, whenever Faith plunged the broken chair leg or the preacher fired a crossbow bolt into their hearts.

No other demons seemed to be left.

Everyone on the bus crowded around Faith and the preacher, babbling their gratitude, slapping them on the back. The preacher broke away, pushing through the crowd and strode over to Faith, he took her into his arms, dipping her back and kissed her! What the blazes?

Faith responded! God, what a complete ho! What the hell did Dean see in the skank? No, hold on, she was pushing the sleazoid preacher away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, looking disgusted with herself, and the newly arrived local sheriffs were arresting both Faith and the preacher for lewd and indecent behavior.

Holy Fuck!

John would have washed Sammy’s mouth out with soap if he knew Sammy thought like that.

***
2007
***

Lying in bed, snug under the flannel sheet and blankets, Dean anticipated Faith’s return from the bathroom soon.

The first thing she did upon crawling back into bed with him, was place her chilled feet on his shins to warm up.

“Spreading the love?” Dean stoically endured the icicles on his legs.

“Yep.” Faith nuzzled into his chest.

“Your cell went off twice while you were gone.” Dean kissed her nose.

“Ooh.” Faith pulled instantly away and fumbled for her cell phone in her brown leather purse, that lay on the bedside table.

She showed Dean the messages. The first was a group photo, of drunk, boisterous, Irish gals and guys in a pub, crowded into a booth, giving thumbs up signs and rabbit ears over wasted mates.

“FAITH U PIKER. C WOT UR MISSING OUT ON IN LONDON?” read the accompanying message.

“My friends.” Faith grinned pleased.

“London?” Dean scrutinized the image carefully. They did look like nice people, young, happy, carefree. Lucky them.

“They don’t know I’m back stateside. No one’s meant to.” Faith clicked onto the next message.

“FAITH ME ANGEL. WE STILL ON 4 DINNER THURS? SEAMUS.”

“Who’s Seamus?” Dean propped his head up on his hand, resting on the pillow.

“My current squeeze.” Faith switched her phone off guiltily.

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Open relationship?”

“We’ve only been dating two weeks. He’s a funeral director, he kept coming into the flower shop to arrange wreaths." Faith didn't need to excuse herself to Dean Winchester of all people. "Look, you’re just a freebie, Dean.”

“A freebie?” Dean was intrigued.

“I don’t do crap like this anymore, humping someone, less than ten hours of meeting up with them.” Faith turned flat on her back and pressed her head against the pillows. “It’s not me right now or ever again.”

“So why are you letting me screw you? If ya all born again straight and narrow,” Dean sounded skeptical.

Terrific, she’d used him again. What the hell was he? Her one last fling, before she became completely normal and boring? Apparently, she’d started to learn how to knit from her landlady. Her brown hand crocheted sweater hanging up to dry in the living room, was the most botched job Dean ever saw, and he didn’t care Faith told him she only wore it to bed.

Faith remained silent, seething with suppressed conflicting emotions.

“Thanks, I’m so friggin’ glad I could be your blast from the past.” Dean felt so pissed off at her. So... hurt.

“Don’t give me that shit. What was I to you, Dean? Except some…” Faith floundered for the right word. “Some fuckin’ ‘receptacle’, for you to get off in?”
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