Sex on Legs and the Sharp Dressed Man
Sex on Legs and the Sharp Dressed ManAuthor:
BtVS/SPN, goes AU after SPN season one.Pairings:
This one is teen. Adult in later parts.Disclaimer:
I hired a pack of ninjas to kidnap Joss and Kripke; they were threatened with hot poker torture, chainsaws, and an exorcism. I now own all. Thank you. *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.A/N:
This was started for prompts from my paranormal 25 table. The other story in this series is for the prompt table, this is just a sideline story focusing on the Winchesters and their love lives.
Takes place a week before the start of "When the Dead are Your Only Friends."
The door to the Harvelle roadhouse opened, and in sauntered a walking wet dream. She was hot, really fucking hot. She was sex on legs and made Dean check to see if he was drooling. Hell, Sam was staring too, and it made Dean happy to know that his baby brother was well enough to notice hot chicks. Every hunter in the bar (all of them males save Ellen), was staring.
The woman had wavy dark brown hair, and full lips. She was decked out in leather that hugged her full curves, looking like she'd beat the hell out of you after kicking you out of bed. Most of the hunters were standing now, moving toward Sexy as though in a daze. She looked at them all with a raised eyebrow, then laughed. It was a deep, throaty sound, the embodiment of carnal sins. Then she spoke to someone over her shoulder. Another newbie to Harvelle's entered; this man was a tall, black man with a shaved head. He wore a nice suit, carried himself with a self-assured dignity. But he also had that look of awareness that told every hunter that he could handle himself. The man surveyed the room quickly, unobtrusively picking out the exits and threats. Then he observed the drooling hunters with a raised eyebrow before smiling and shake of his head. He wrapped his arm around Sexy's waist and pressed a kiss to her temple, then chuckled when an audible wave of groans sounded.
Dean and Sam watched as the two walked over to the bar. They walked over to Ellen, speaking quietly. The smile dropped from Ellen's face, replaced by suspicion and no small amount of disgust. Then it slowly melted into grudging acceptance. Ellen began listening intently, nodding. She scanned the room, checking each face. Moving out from behind the bar, she unplugged the jukebox. Everyone stared, curious at her actions. Ellen said nothing, instead nodding at the man.
"Mrs. Harvelle has said that all of you are demon hunters. Therefore, I feel it would be a lot easier to explain this once. My name is Robin Wood, and this is Faith LeHane," he called out. His voice was deep and commanding, making Dean feel like he was sitting in the Principal's office. The hunters fell silent, their natural curiosity winning out over their suspicion of the suit-clad man. "Now, the Watcher's Council was an organization in love with itself and it's supposedly noble aims. These aims included treating little girls like weapons, ignoring outside resources like the help of the hunting community, and refusing hunters aide when they needed it."
"They were assholes!" yelled someone from the back, followed by murmurs of agreement. Robin smiled.
"Yes they were. Hell, had they know of my existence as a child, they very well might have had me killed. Now they're also dead, their headquarters destroyed in a bombing last spring." The group fell silent, surprised. What is the proper reaction be to learning that a bunch of arrogant, but ultimately not-evil assholes had died? Sadness? Remorse? Cheering?
"What are you?" Dean asked, suspicious. According to the stories he'd heard from his dad, Pastor Jim, and Bobby, the Council was a bunch of assholes, but they were ultimately on the side of good. Why the hell would they kill a child, unless it was evil? The guy didn't look evil, although if he was evil, then it wouldn't be wrong for Dean to kill him and hit on Faith.
The man shrugged. "I'm a human. I'm the human child of a Slayer. A liability for what the Council considered to be nothing more than a weapon, a tool. They felt that emotional ties made the Slayer weak. Even though the last Slayer had the support of her friends and family and is the oldest living Slayer after nine years."
"Is B really the longest living Slayer?" Faith asked. Robin frowned and turned to her.
"What do you mean?"
"Xander brought it up. I was called after she died the first time, but before she died the second time. So technically, I'm the longest living Slayer," she pointed.
Now the hunters were really confused. Not much was known about the Slayers. The hunting community knew one was called at a time to fight the vampires. But vampires were nearly extinct at this point, so why were Slayers still being called. And why the fuck were there two of them?
"Slayers are still called?" Ash asked, moving up to the bar. "Vampires are almost extinct, are Slayers even still needed?"
"Hell yes, Mullet-Boy," Faith drawled. Ash unconsciously raised a hand to touch his mullet.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but most of you specialize in hunting ghosts, demons, spirits, those kinds of things, right? And most of the time you avoid large cities, correct?" Robin asked. The occupants murmured affirmatively. "Contrary to hunter lore, there are actually two kinds of vampires. The physical vampires tend to be migratory and move through unpopulated areas. These are the kind you deal with. The kind we deal with are demonic vampires. These are the kind that can be killed by sunlight, beheading, stake through the heart, and are damaged by holy items. These ones tend to congregate around Hellmouths and cities."
Dean snorted. "What, like Dracula?"
"Yeah, even though Drac is a douche bag," Faith sneered. "B said he was a shitty fighter, and the bastard still owes a friend of mine 14 pounds."
"Dracula?" Ash asked. "You mean, the actual Dracula, Vlad the Impaler? I th-."
"You might want to tell them why you're here," Ellen interrupted before they got too far off track. Robin smiled at her and nodded.
"Most of the Watchers were killed. The only fully-trained Watchers alive were either fired or retired," Robin said. "However, those of us rebuilding the Council are changing the way things are done. The old Council felt hunters were nothing more than supernatural pest-control armatures. But we know better. Any supernatural threat is our concern and we won't ignore the work that independent hunters do. Just because your enemies aren't going to bring about an apocalypse, that doesn't mean that they're minor. Anything harming people, killing innocents, is a common enemy, and we want to help."
"We don't need your help," a hunter yelled out. Robin only raised an eyebrow while Faith snorted.
"Dude, just chill. It isn't like we're saying you suck and should quit," Faith said. "We don't plan on taking over for you, we don't want
to take over for you. We're just offering our resources. If you need some help on research, getting supplies, we'll be happy to help. And if you come across something bigger than usual, you can give us a call for some back up."
"What do you want from us?" Sam asked. Most of the hunters nodded; there had to be a catch. Robin answered, looking directly at Sam.
"Because of the changes we're making, only seven former Watchers have returned to help the New Watcher's Council. And some of these changes mean that you'll probably need our help. You see, last Spring, we closed the Hellmouth in Sunnydale."
? What, did you actually get your suit dirty?" a voice called mockingly. Robin's smile turned icy. In a flash, Faith was across the room and lifting the hunter who'd spoken up by his throat. Benny was around six feet tall, and weighed close to three hundred pounds. And Faith was holding him like he was a can of beer, his feet dangling at least two feet off the ground.
"Actually we both were, and he almost died fighting primordial vampires. You ever try to take out an army of ubervamps?" Faith growled. The hunter gurgled. With a sneer, Faith dropped him and walked away. "Didn't think so."
"Wait, you fought the Turok-Han?" Sam asked.
Faith nodded. "Yep, and they're tough sons of bitches. Only way for us to defeat them was through our witch. She activated all the Potentials, and we won. But now we have seven trained Watchers, a group of untrained people that want to help, and over one hundred and seventy Slayers. These girls need help, they need Watchers and we're fresh out."
"Wait a minute, you're sayin' we'd need your help because
you closed the Hellmouth? Why?" Ellen asked.
"Because we closed the Hellmouth, evil is no longer being drawn to one primary location," Robin explained. "Now the dark creatures are scattering. Some are heading to the Hellmouth in Cleveland, where we're stationed. But that Hellmouth is weaker and the draw for evil isn't as strong. Now you're going to be more likely to encounter demons like the Suvolte and Fyarl in the Mid-West, and we're just offering our help."
"Where are all the Slayers right now?" Ellen asked.
"Well, some of the older ones are station with us in Cleveland," Faith said, "And four are traveling with a witch and a Watcher, going to hot spots around the world. But the rest are at the school in Wales."
"That is where the rest of the Watchers are working as teachers," Robin added. "Most of these girls are between twelve and nineteen. We're hoping that if we can train them to fight and hunt together, then station them together, that perhaps they can have something close to a long, normal life. Before, most these girls would have died within a year, but maybe now they can have a chance at the life they want."
Most of the hunters sat in silence. It was a lot to take in. Robin reached into his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope. Reaching into it, he pulled out a small pamphlet. "These are pamphlets for the New Watcher's Council. If you ever need help or even want to see about being a Watcher, just give us a call." Robin and Faith turned away from the crowd, and Ellen plugged the jukebox. Music filled the room and conversations started again. Sam looked across the room, then at Dean.
"Let's go talk to them," he said. Dean studied him.
"Because I don't want to hunt forever Dean. I still want a normal life someday, with a family and a dog." Dean's stomach clenched; he'd lost his Dad, he couldn't lose Sammy too. Sure, Sammy would call and stuff, but if Sam went back to normal life, Dean would be cut out no matter what. Sam took a deep breath before speaking again.
"After everything that's happened, I don't think I could turn my back on this life again. I need to do something to help, but I'm tired of driving around, pulling scams, hunting and living in shitty motel rooms. Maybe I could be a researcher, and you could go around and kill things."
Dean cocked an eyebrow; sounded pretty far-fetched to him. "Fine, you go talk to 'em."
Sam flinched; as far as he could tell, this offer was the only way he would get to help out and keep him and Dean in the same circle, but let him live the life he wanted to. And he was tired of the hunting community. Everyone either looked at him like he was a hero or a murderer. "So you think the idea sucks?"
Dean saw the loneliness and exhaustion in his brother's eyes. "Nah, it's a good idea. I just don't see the point in talking to Faith if I can't hit it."
Sam chuckled as he stood up. "'Hit it?' What are you, a rapper?"
"Shut up, bitch," Dean yelled as Sam walked toward the Slayer.