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Summary: Random, one-shot ficlets featuring Faith. Crossovers with Dark Hunters, Harry Potter, & Supernatural planned for now.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Faith-Centered > Ficlet Collections(Past Donor)FaithSummersFR1533,6900102,05715 Oct 0815 Nov 08No


Disclaimer: I own nothing! Faith belongs to Joss Whedon and Co. Sam & Dean belong to Erik Kripke and Co.
A/N: Kind of a one-shot; part of a story I'm working on in which Faith knows Dean & Sam and has helped them out with a few hunts in the past. [I decided to take another turn with the story though.] Set directly after BtVS S7 and SPN S3 - so Faith was a little too busy dealing with The First in Sunnydale to come help Dean out of his “deal” with the crossroads demon.


Faith showed up two days after Sam had buried Dean. Sam had waited for her at the cemetery then later at Bobby’s place. Then he had given up. Faith wasn’t going to come and save the day this time. It was too late. So Sam had walked away from everyone that still cared about him - Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. They had begged him not to go off on his own. He wanted to be alone to plot his revenge against that bitch Lilith. Alone to crawl into a bottle a whiskey and maybe never come back out again.

Sam was sitting in a cheap, dingy motel room, trying to submerge his pain in a bottle of Jim Beam. He was staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper when a thundering knock at the door put him on full alert.

Gripping Ruby’s knife in his hand, he tread silently to the door to look out the peephole. On the other side of the door he could see a tall brunette, arms crossed over her ample chest in a pissed-off fashion. Her long hair partially obscured her face as she raised her fist to knock again. Before her hand made contact with the door, Sam had it thrown open the door. He yanked the stunned girl into the room. Sam kicked the door shut and pinned her to the wall in one practiced motion - reflexes uninhibited by the amount of booze he’d consumed. Sam held the knife’s blade to the brunette’s throat.

“Who are you?” Sam snarled menacingly.

“Sam, if you were anybody else… you’d be crying on the floor right now,” Faith glared at him. ‘Christ he smells like a brewery!’

“Who are you?” Sam demanded again as he shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle then pressed the blade a little deeper into her throat. No one knew he was here. If Lilith thought she was going to send some lackey to finish him off - she was wrong.

“Faith!” she growled, “Sam, it’s me – Faith.”

“Faith?” He asked wonderingly. “Is it really you?” Sam loosened his grip around her throat, but didn’t let her go.

“Sam, what’s going on with you?” she asked, eyes roving his face.

Sam relaxed his hold then put his arms around her. “Dean’s… Dean’s gone.” He took a long shuddering breath. ‘Faith was here. She’d make it alright.’

After clinging to her for a moment, he pulled back and looked down at her, “How did you find me?”

Faith looked a little guilty, “actually a demon named Ruby sent me.”

“What?” Sam asked suspiciously. ‘Ruby!’

“One of your little black eyed friends told me you’d be here.”

Sam gestured impatiently for her to go on.

“Some chick, called herself ‘Ruby’. Said you’d be here and that I’m the one that has to help you learn to use your powers,” Faith shrugged.

“So, you show up now?” Sam sounded furious. “Faith, I called you months ago… why wait? Dean needed you,” he accused.

Faith sighed, “I know. I had a lot going on though, you know.” Faith didn’t feel like telling the story, it felt like she was making excuses. Faith knew Sam would understand – apocalypse and all that. But somehow, seeing him she felt like even battling The First Evil didn’t justify leaving her friends hanging.

“Oh, a lot going on… well I guess that makes it okay then,” Sam said icily. Faith could see that muscle ticking in his jaw, signaling Sam was really pissed. He turned away and took a long pull from the nearly empty bottle on the night stand.

“Sam, if there had been any way, you *know* I would have come sooner,” Faith pleaded.

“So Ruby thinks I’m going to ‘channel my powers’? It’s a too late for that…Dean’s gone.”

“Sam, Dean’s gone, I know it hurts like hell, but you’re still alive. Dean made that deal so that you could live.” Faith took a deep breath and plunged on when he didn’t argue, “Are you just going to sit back and wait for Lilith to hunt you down? Or are you going to learn how to protect yourself?”

Dean never wanted him to use his powers, and Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Sam had seen firsthand what that kind of power did to the others Azazel had tainted with his blood. They had become monsters warped until they were no longer recognizable as human.

“Dean’s been gone for less than three days and you’re already cracking up.” Faith took a step closer to him. “You know you’re too important to this war to be falling down drunk all the time, Sam.”

“I don’t need any powers. We’ve been fighting the demons without them.” Sam protested. “I still have Ruby’s knife.”

“Sammy, you know I can appreciate a good blade, but do you really think you can take out a whole demon army by yourself with one knife?”

“Don’t call me Sammy, damn it.”


2 Weeks Later

It had been a long, frustrating two weeks and Sam had made next to no progress. They were no closer to finding Lilith and making her release Dean than he was to being able to control any of his powers.

Faith wasn’t helping with the strain at all. She had moved into Sam’s motel room. Sam found it hard to room with Faith; he was used to Dean’s borderline OCD – everything neatly in its place. He’d nearly forgotten what a slob Faith was - her clothes tossed haphazardly about the room, old pizza boxes everywhere, and her girly things all over the bathroom. She hogged the bathroom every night so that he had to wait for an hour to be able to get in to take his five minute shower.

Faith had made him spend every morning trying to move things with his mind. When he wasn’t giving himself migraines by trying to do ‘Jedi mind tricks’ as Faith called them he had his nose buried in a book or his computer trying to find some way to bring Dean back.

After a while just the sight of Faith made him angry. Every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but think it was all her fault. If Faith hadn’t been off doing whatever she’d been doing after breaking out of jail this wouldn’t have happened. Dean would be okay and everything that was wrong with his life would be okay. He knew it was irrational to feel like all of the blame rested on Faith’s shoulders, but he kept thinking it none the less. Sam was reaching his breaking point. The sound of her voice murmuring in his ear while he was trying to use his powers usually ended up in a yelling match.

The first time Sam had to let his powers out just to levitate a matchbook he had been struck by a pain so debilitating he hadn’t been able to get out of bed for a day. After repeated tries he now only had a stabbing pain in his skull that left him wanting to puke.


For days it went on, training and researching – researching and training. Faith was mystified by how he could pull so much info out of the computer. He’d sit staring at his lap top for hours while Faith paced the room restlessly. Eventually she’d have to go out and find something to slay. Sam’s tension level was so high that Faith barely said a word to him when they weren’t training. She could feel the power in him, but she couldn’t figure out how to help him harness it. ‘Don’t know why I got picked for this gig anyway. I’m a Slayer not a psychic.’

“You’ve got to open yourself up, Sammy. Let the power flow through you,” Faith intoned, “Then direct it to where you want it to go.”

Sam glared at her, “I’m trying! And Don’t Call Me Sammy!” He grunted as he lifted his hand to try to move the damned bottle again.

Faith had to force down the smile that was creeping across her face, ‘That Sammy thing gets a rise out of him every time.’


One evening Sam was standing in the cheap motel, facing the dilapidated table-top, glaring at the empty whiskey bottle. Faith watched him standing there, arm outstretched towards it, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The pain had become a little less intense over the past 24 hours and Faith hoped he’d make a break-through soon.

The pain erupted behind his eyes, but Sam pushed it away. He was going to do it this time. He felt the pressure build in his skull, but he continued to ignore it as he strained to move the bottle. ‘Just a little more.’

He forced the power to do his bidding, the bottle shattered and Sam cried out in pain as he clutched the sides of his head.

Faith was by his side instantly, “Sam! Sammy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he stood and pushed her away.

“Let’s take a break…” Faith began only to be interrupted.

“No! I’m not giving up!”

“Look killing yourself won’t help Dean.” Faith said quietly.

Sam passed by the mirror on the dresser and got a good look at himself for the first time in days. He looked like shit. He skin was chalky, his cheeks were sunken, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

“Sam, you’ve got a nosebleed,” Faith continued on, “Giving yourself a stroke isn’t going to help anybody.”

He looked at her sullenly but didn’t answer. He sat down heavily on the bed.

“Whatever you’re doing isn’t working.”

“Really, noticed that did you?” He snarled, frustrated at his own ineptitude.

“You haven’t really embraced your abilities. You haven’t let go of the fear that you’re going to go all ‘dark side of the force’ or whatever.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam snarled, “I’m busting my ass! You think I’m holding back? That I don’t want to save my brother?”

“Quit this tragic hero crap, it’s unbecoming. I won’t let you end up like the others – you know that right?” She poked him in the chest. She was a Slayer and it hurt.

“Do you really think that I’m that weak?” She accused him. “Do you really think I’m going to let anything happen to you?” She poked him again, harder, Sam felt a dent starting in his breastbone. “You have to control your powers, Sam, or eventually they *will* control you.”

Faith took another step forward to stand toe to toe with him, glaring at him furiously. Sam drew himself up to stare defiantly back failing to be imposing despite his height. Sam was furious, ‘How dare she?’ he thought to himself angrily.

Sam wasn’t used to failing, but he had failed to save Dean and now he was failing again. He had to succeed, Dean was depending on it. Not to mention his life and most likely Faith’s depended on him being able to use these abilities.

Sam tried to back up a step - she was standing too close. He could smell her shampoo – vanilla and see the blue veins through her luminescent skin that saw the sun so rarely. Sam grit his teeth. He just needed more practice. He needed…

“Sam, look at me damnit,” Faith commanded then wished she hadn’t; she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. The raw naked need.

Sam felt himself fall into those deep brown eyes. He felt like a drowning man and Faith was his life preserver. Gently he placed his hands on either side of her face then crushed his lips to hers. If Faith was surprised by this she didn’t give any sign. Instead she slid her hands up and down the sides of his arms before wrapping them around his waist. She kissed him back with a passion that rivaled his own. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he lifted her up and pressed her into the wall. Without breaking contact he stripped off his shirt.

The End?

You have reached the end of "Faithtales" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 15 Nov 08.

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