Living dead girl
Title: Nothing else matters
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al.
Timeline: Post Chosen, post season two Supernatural. Story switches back and forth non-confusingly between 1998 and 2007.
Summary: Faith spent her summer on the run from Kakistos with the Winchesters. Nine years later Faith and Dean meet again.
Warning: Coarse Language. Does anyone truly give a shit? And it's not PWP so much as merely explicit sex.
Dean spent a long leisurely time in the shower in the primitive bathroom that afternoon. He hadn’t been alone for ages. The thought of a weekend to himself seemed damned appealing. No Sammy, no hunting, just him in a rustic log cabin belonging to Bobby in the middle of nowhere.
He badly needed a mental break after the messed up crap happening in his life this past year.
Clad only in a threadbare, stolen, motel towel, droplets of water still running down his body, he entered the main living quarters of the cabin to have lunch.
His heart sank as he spotted the duffle left on the couch. Bobby warned him he often lent out his cabin to other hunters.
“I hope whoever the hell you are; you left enough hot water, bud.” The young woman bent over the fireplace, pushing her long hair back safely out of the way, to blow on the fire she was starting. It was a cold if sunny afternoon. An expensive silver lighter lay on the rough wooden floor beside her. “I wanna wash my hair.”
Her greasy chestnut hair, the way she straightened up, her dark brown eyes widening at the sight of him, the tattoo on her arm.
“I’ll be fucked, Dean?” Faith’s mouth dropped open in recognition. He still wore that silver ring she scored for him?
When did she start smoking and swearing? And what the hell was she doing here? He always thought she died nine years ago.
Faith encouraged the tattooed, bearded biker with B.O. to buy her another drink. If he got wasted enough he’d hopefully pass out before she needed to knock him unconscious and steal his wallet.
Although, Faith would kinda get off knocking the chump unconscious, who was she trying to kid? She owned a lot of hostility to work through, a lot of negative feelings. Seeing her watcher get killed like an animal in front of her back in late June, left Faith with even more issues, and she didn’t think Group Therapy was coming her way anytime soon.
Watching the middle-aged, balding, asshole sneakily spike her drink up at the bar, made her next decision as easy as falling off a log for her. She’d beat the prick into a bleeding, moaning mess.
She’d been doing the world a freaking public service since she fled Boston, that was for real. New York: one hospitalized pimp, Faith up two hundred bucks. New Jersey: one left unconscious attempted rapist, Faith up sixty-eight bucks. Virginia: another attempted rapist, Faith up one thousand and forty dollars!
Rapists like that didn’t come along everyday tragically, and Mr. Vacuum Cleaner Salesman’s liberated wallet, combined with hitching rides from truckers, a van full of German tourists, and a motor home filled with a vacationing Mormon family from Utah, got her as far as Florida. She possessed twenty-three dollars to her name right now.
Florida hosted Faith ridding the world of a conquistador era vampire. She was called to pull crap like staking vampires, but it left a trail, and seeing how she was trying to avoid being killed by a centuries old Greek vampire it had been a mistake looking back.
Faith needed to stop looking back and look forwards, look west, not south.
“Hey, uh Miss?” The hottest guy in the bar was speaking to her. He was young, (like her he must be using fake I.D.) tall, sandy haired with open green eyes. He wore a lot of jewelry, but he didn’t seem queer, more kinda indie.
“Yeah?” Faith tried to not seem too impressed. She wished her hair was clean.
“That guy you’re with just put something in your drink.” Dean had been watching her since the minute she stepped into the biker bar. Like him she was among the youngest of the bar patrons. Like him she looked like she didn’t quite belong there. She appeared outwardly relaxed in this set up but she was new at it, he doubted she’d ever been in a bar like this before until today, in spite of the tight fitting snakeskin pants, in spite of the black cut off top that had her boobs half falling out. It was if she was trying out a new persona, god alone knew why the chick was trying out this one.
Faith noted he didn’t sound like he was from Florida, and that was of the good, because she didn’t have much time for the general public the further south she went. Faith couldn’t work out if it was her or what, but she didn’t like the folks down here.
“He did?” Faith decided immediately to go back to his motel with this Boy Scout or whoever. She needed a hot shower desperately.
Late afternoon sunlight streamed into the room through the paned glass windows on her, he knew she couldn’t be a lot of things that went bump in the night because of this, but he should really check further. “I thought you were dead.”
“Yeah, I hoped you’d think that, but I’m clearly not.” Faith hesitated, he was probably still paranoid. “So do you want me to cut my palm with a silver knife or spray holy water on me?”
“Works for me. Nothing personal, Faith.” Dean immediately went out to the car he’d borrowed from Bobby, the pebbles on the ground cutting into his bare feet. He opened the trunk and took out a leather pouch.
Faith was in the kitchen part of the cabin, when he came back in, boiling water for coffee.
“Hurry up.” Faith held out her hand.
“Maybe I should use an alcohol swab first.” Dean took out his knife.
“Cut me already.” Faith shook her hand out in readiness.
She always was impatient. He pricked her swiftly on her thumb, a drop of blood welled out of her thumb pad.
Faith debated in her mind if she should scream and fall to the ground writhing, to freak him out. She would have nine years ago.
Dean splashed a drop of holy water on the cut. There was no reaction from her. Her hand’s nails were well manicured.
“Happy?” Faith brushed past him. “I’m having a shower now. I have my coffee white, no sugar, remember?”
“Thanks.” Faith emerged from the bathroom with damp hair, wearing a white tank top and a blue cotton skirt she’d shoplifted in Washington D.C. She’d changed into her remaining clean clothes and hurriedly washed all her underwear in the bathroom sink of the motel unit with the freebie shampoo sachets. They were hanging up to dry over the towel rail.
“You’re welcome.” Dean knew this situation could end up with him getting laid if he played his cards right, but he wasn’t sure how to hurry it along. His Dad and Sammy were due back any hour.
“You got anything to eat?” Faith asked hopefully. Her stomach rumbled on cue. The sound was embarrassingly loud in the silence of the motel unit.
“No… I could order pizza. Uh, what do you like?” Dean lay face down on the single bed in the main room and picked up the yellow pages.
“The works,” Faith threw herself down on his couch, sprawled out so it wouldn’t be possible for him to sit beside her and turned on the television set. “So what time are your old man and kid brother due back again?”
“Ten, eleven.” It was nine o’clock by this stage and she’d invited herself back to his motel unit with him. If he made a pass at her after the Pizza arrived… she didn’t seem nearly as drunk as she was when she got on the back of his motorbike half an hour ago. He thought she’d been pretending.
Great, Faith worked out, if she could hold him off until his family returned, she could get a free meal out of this without having to going through the potential hassle of refusing to blow him. She was on the rag and never into doing sex stuff if she wasn’t gonna get off in return.
Then she could crash the night in this motel’s kids’ playground. Faith could see they had a playhouse she could sleep inside. It was an unbelievably warm night.
The motel door unlocked and one of the tallest teenagers Faith had ever seen, loped into the room.
“Who’s she?” Sammy asked his brother immediately.
“Faith. Where’s Dad?” Dean cursed his luck. “Hello, ‘Papa’s Pizzas’?"
“He’s going back to that woman, Melody’s, place tonight.” Sammy explained, flopping down on the single bed. “So do you live around here?”
“No, I’m on vacation sorta.” Faith shrugged evasively. “You enjoyin’ your summer break tourin’ Civil War battlefields?” Dean hadn’t known there’d never been a battle that took place in Florida, but fortunately neither did Faith.
“Civil War battlefields? Yeah, it’s been real educational.” Sammy snorted, glancing at Dean in disbelief. “The ghosts of the past brought to life.”
“Yeah, ‘family special’ sounds fine.” Dean sighed down the phone. There was no way Faith was going to put out now he realized. He was beginning to severely doubt she would have in the first place, even if she had been dressed in the bar like a complete slut. He still couldn’t work out what the hell she’d been doing there. No, his father was getting laid tonight instead - wonderful.
“So why did you leave like that?” Dean demanded, as soon as Faith returned to the living room.
“Do you still have that cute but mistaken notion, vampires are extinct?” Faith took up her coffee. She wore black jeans and a low cut green top, a silver cross hung from around her neck. He should have clicked onto that earlier. Seeing her again had shaken him.
“No. But they don’t die like you described either.” Dean was glad he had the chance to finally discuss this with her.
“There are different types, even I didn’t know that ten years ago. Is it ten years?”
“Nine, it’s been nine years.” Dean felt… he didn’t know how he felt. They’d just been a couple of kids after all. He didn’t know which of them had used the other more.
“Yiz guys are going to San Diego?” Faith paused cramming pizza in her mouth.
“Yeah, we have to be there on the first of September.” Sammy flicked off the olives on his pizza slice, he hated olives.
California, they were going to California.
Faith started to come on to Dean again. Agreeing eagerly to come into the bedroom with him and see his knife collection. Why did he have a knife collection?
He liked whittling.
Dean wasn’t sure why the wind had changed once again, like it had with Faith’s attitude towards him. He put his arm around her shoulders experimentally as they sat on the one of the room’s single beds together, examining the knives.
“That one’s a Bowie, right?” Faith admired, not batting an eyelid at his arm on her.
“Yeah.” It was a cool surprise meeting a chick as into blade appreciation as Faith. She wasn’t faking it.
He nuzzled her cheek with his mouth, kissing his way along the side of her jaw.
Her lips were warm and soft, slightly greasy from the cheese on the pizza.
They explored each others mouths enthusiastically, both tasting strongly of pepperoni.
Faith kinda liked Dean by this stage, which helped the next part of the proceedings a hell of a lot
He pushed her carefully on top of the bed and ground into her fully clothed, trying not to squash her.
He groped around under her tank top and unhooked her bra. Faith appreciated how gentle his hands were on her breasts, fondling them carefully not grabbing and squeezing.
She was getting breathless and turned on herself by the continued kissing and caressing, feeling all warm inside.
She put her hand on his groin. Stroking the bulge underneath his jeans without shame. She licked his ear and whispered huskily into it as he shivered.
“Hey Dean? If I can tag along to California with you, I’ll screw you the whole way. No strings attached. Love me, leave me.”
“You’re a slayer? What, even before all the little girls got called?” Dean couldn’t believe he’d ever been so stupid.
“Uh huh.” Faith put her empty coffee mug into the kitchen sink. “I did try to tell you once.”
“Yeah you did. But you lied about everything, Faith.” Dean had been completely pissed off at her lies upon lies in the end.
“So did you, bud.” Faith held no regrets, well maybe one. She survived that summer. It had been a crazy summer, even for her.
“There is no way my Dad would agree to having you come with us.” Dean argued, lying beside her, squeezed on the bed. His hands were off her and his arms were folded defensively on his chest.
“Well aren’t you nineteen? Do you hafta do everthin’ he wants, like a good little puppy dog? Do what you want.” Faith uncrossed her legs, god the bed was comfortable, she could happily go to sleep, feeling temporarily safe for once.
Dean ran his hand down the smooth skin of her bare thigh. “Okay, I’ll try. Now how about the hand job, sweetheart?”
Faith knocked his creeping fingers away. “After your old man agrees.” She got off the bed, “I’ll crash on the couch in case he comes back early. I wanna make a good impression, I guess.”
“Cover the tattoo then. What is it of anyway?” Dean got up as well, to brush his teeth before hitting the sack.
“Celtic tribal design, I’m all big on my heritage. It’s wicked cool huh?” Faith rubbed at the mark on her upper arm as if she wanted it to disappear.
Sammy had fallen asleep watching television.
Faith turned the television off and curled up on the couch.
Dean came out of the bedroom with a pillow, he tossed it to her.
“It’s not gonna work.”
Faith shuffled the pillow under her head. “But ya gonna try right?”
“Hell yeah.” Dean picked up Sammy’s jeans and removed the wallet from it for safekeeping.
Faith raised a contemptuous eyebrow. She wouldn’t have stolen the kid’s wallet. What was she? A retard?
AN: If you want to flame go for it, but before you do, please, ‘yiz guys’ is a legitimate Boston expression.