Things to do in Cleveland When You Stink.
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Angel or Supernatural... or any of the other crosses that may show up as this goes along.
Art by Christytrekkie, used by permission
This is *not* a continuation of Turned from Darkness. It begins sometime after the chapter Warrior Stew, but it is more or less a stand alone
This story may or may not be updated regularly, it was just a bunny that was running around the racetrack that's my mind being chased by a fox... I needed it out of my head! Enjoy.
It's rated FR15 mostly for language because this is Faith, y'all... Sorry, it's unlikely to have lots of hot sex -- at least for now. ;-)
Faith was furious. First of all, she was filthy. Second, she was miles from home, and third she was all alone. Faith was filthy because the nasty demon had been full of some kind of sticky, pus like liquid. It stank, and it stung a little. It didn’t taste so good either. The liquid was also quite slippery, and it coated the bottom of her shoes. Each time she got up, she walked a few steps before going sliding again. So she was covered in leaves, dirt, gravel and other things that were at least as gross as the Poigo blood…
She supposed it must be blood. It had come pouring out of the thing’s enormous gut when she had stabbed it. Of course, she’d stabbed it in the head
, but that was just a useless detail. Before she’d figured out that the softest part of a Poigo was behind and between the second pair of eyes, Faith had tussled and stabbed and slashed, with no result.
Faith was miles from home because the damn thing could fly. Who knew Poigo demons could fly? She would have loved to blame Robin for this, but this
was her own damn stupid fault. She was the one who had stubbornly insisted in going after it without doing research. She was the one who had insisted on going alone. Of course, they both knew the reason she didn’t want to do research was because research meant spending time with him. That was just too hard. They’d shared one dance at Dru's wedding, and spent the rest of the night pining for each other. They were exes, dammit! Exes didn't pine! By the time all the drama was over with military visitors and the werewolf arriving and it was finally time to go to bed, somehow, he’d ended up in her room, and one thing had led to another. Faith really didn’t want to think about that right now. She was horny enough already and she was hungry too, and getting hungrier by the minute. She was in the middle of nowhere and getting nowhere fast. She didn’t even really know if she was walking in the right direction. For all she knew, she was some place in Canada. Hopefully, Andrew or Robin would get Willow or Tara to find her, and she’d be home before morning.
She had tried to run to get home quicker, but she kept slipping and falling on her ass. She picked up her sword for the fourteenth or fifteenth time, and started walking again. She was grumbling to herself and swearing as she trudged along, the sword resting on her shoulder like a rifle.
“Damn fucking idiot stupid flying demon. I hate that damn demon. Fucking idiot demon. Research. Robin and his freaking research. Damn useless demon…”
She fell down again.
No matter what she did, Faith couldn’t get rid of the slick. She’d tried wiping her feet, but all that happened was that her shoes had started to smoke. Lovely. Flammable pus! Well, at least her feet were warm. She thought of taking her shoes off, but the stinky pus was inside her shoes too, so that would have been pointless. She remembered how Buffy liked to complain about ruined shoes, and chuckled. Slaying was hard on footwear!
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch… that was the sound her feet made in her sodden shoes. Of course she couldn’t find water anywhere. She was in the middle of fucking nowhere, without half a clue. No phone, no bag, no money. The cell phone had gone somewhere after they were airborne. And of course, there were no payphones anywhere, not that she had even a quarter… No, she had nothing. Less than nothing. Faith growled to herself in frustration. First, she’d been walking in some kind of field, but now she was on the road, and she’d turned in the direction that seemed like it should be the right one. She was cursing her stupidity yet again.
Faith thought back to the fight. How fucking stupid was she? There was no way she could have known. Except for fucking research of course. And stupid Andrew was off who knows where with his ‘baby’ slayers. Baby slayers! A couple of them were older than she was! They weren’t babies! Anyway, she’d been killing things without help from anyone for years. The Poigo thing had been built like a large pig, and had huge spikes growing out of the top of its head. It didn’t have wings, yet there they were, frickin' airborne, flying over the lake! She didn’t dare kill it while they were in the air either. She might be hard to kill, but she didn’t have wings, and the last time she’d fallen from a multistory building, she’d been in a coma for 9 months. This was much higher. Good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights, not really. So on they flew. She tried using the sword to choke it, hoping to 'encourage' it to land, but it had slowly rotated in the air so she was left hanging with her hands from its neck, holding onto the sword painfully for dear life, her feet dangling uselessly and praying she wouldn’t lose her grip. So she had stopped struggling and thankfully it turned ‘upright’ again.
When it had flown out over the lake, Faith wasn’t sure landing in it would have been an improvement or just an even less pleasant way to die. She had heard that when you hit water from high up, it was as hard as hitting concrete. How deep was it? Was it cold? Of course, it would be freaking cold! They were almost in freaking Canada. But they hadn’t landed in the water, and the thing hadn’t managed to throw her off. Now it was dead, and she looked like she’d rolled in yellow molasses, then rolled herself through a garbage dump or something. She certainly smelled like it. She’d mostly stopped retching after losing her lunch and dinner and everything she’d eaten in the past 24 hours that might still have been there, but she still wasn’t used to the smell. The nice vomit taste wasn't helping. It was obnoxious. Grrrr… She stomped along angrily, losing her balance again. She had to stop losing her temper.
Lights. Wonderful, she thought sarcastically. Someone was coming. Someone else to see her like this. Maybe not. Someone to drive by like the last half a dozen people she’d tried to flag down. A couple of them had slowed, but once they’d taken a good look, they’d sped off like every demon in hell was chasing them.
This one stopped. She walked up to the passenger side. The window was down.
“What the hell happened to you?” the man asked, wrinkling his nose.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Faith said.
“Try me!” he said, grinning at her. He had a cute grin.
“Naah, it's a very long story! I wonder if you could make a call for me?”
“Sure, what’s the number?”
She gave him Andrew’s number and told him her name.
He dialed and waited. “I’m sorry, it’s not answering.”
“Great,” she said, dejectedly. “Could you call another number for me please?”
She gave him Robin’s number and let out a huge sigh.
“I’m calling for Faith. She needs a ride home.”
“No, she’s fine”
“She’s right here… it’s just…”
“Yes, she does look like she’s covered in something. Yeah, it’s pretty gross. It stinks like hell!”
“OK, great, I’ll tell her.”
The man gave Robin their location. She was more than thirty miles from home! Shit.
“He says, sit tight, he’s coming to get you. He told me that Oregano and Black pepper will help with the, um... ‘chemicals’,” he seemed slightly amused about something.
“Oregano and black pepper? Where the fuck am I supposed to get fucking kitchen spices out here in the middle of frigging nowhere?” she gestured, and fell flat on her ass, swearing loudly.
“He just asked me to tell you,” he said as she stood up again, glaring at him. He grinned at her, and raised both palms in a gesture of surrender. He still looked amused. “Don’t kill the messenger!”
“Sorry! It’s just that I’ve been walking for an hour and I didn’t even know where I was. This shit stinks and it burns too.”
“You know what, lemme look in the back. Dad keeps all kinds of crap in the trunk. Maybe there’s some kitchen spices too!” He got out of the car, and walked around to the back and started rummaging around in the trunk.
She followed him.
“You’re a helpful guy! No one else would even stop!” she said. She was trying to decide if she should be suspicious, but as large as he was, he really didn’t present a threat to her. Still, she would keep her guard up. She had her sword, and she could always slime him. She smiled to herself at the thought. Then another slightly less G rated thought passed through her head.
“I’m not surprised, you look terrible!” he said, then muttered, “Yeah, and Poigo blood smells so wonderful too,” under his breath.
Of course, with slayer hearing, Faith heard everything he had said, though she deliberately was standing several feet away.
“What the fuck did you just say?” she said, taking a few steps forward and almost falling again.
He looked surprised. “I guess you heard me. What are you anyway? Most hunters aren’t stupid enough to take on a Poigo alone.”
“I’m a slayer,” she said.
“Cool!” he said. “I’m Dean by the way.”
“Faith,” she said.
"Yeah, you said," he reminded her.
“How do you know about slayers?”
“Dad,” he said. “I always thought that was a myth though… Superwomen, fighting the forces of darkness and saving the world all by themselves? More like a hunter’s wet dream if you ask me!”
Faith laughed. Dean laughed with her, suddenly very glad he hadn’t offended her. It occurred to him that if she had taken on a Poigo and won, he was definitely no match for her. And she was definitely hot, despite the smell. If only there was some oregano in this damn trunk. The smell was getting to him, even from this far away. He could tell she was still retching a little every few minutes. Poor girl.
“No oregano. Just lots and lots of rock salt, and just about every other kitchen spice you could think of… but no fucking oregano.”
“That’s fuckin’ great,” she said. Then she thought how rude that was and said, “But thanks for lookin’ anyway.”
At least it had given her time to size him up. Definitely fuckable. Damn and she had not had any since the wedding. That was why she was such a cranky bitch to Robin. They were both frustrated and unhappy, and everyone in the house knew it. If they hadn’t been in charge of the house, she would have asked for a transfer. Hell, she probably should talk to Giles and Buffy about it anyway. It’s not like Andrew and Robin didn’t have things under control. The four ‘baby’ slayers included two former marines anyway, so it’s not like combat was a foreign concept. Despite all the military’s rules about women in combat, they’d been in war zones, they could handle themselves. All she needed was to use that cool little medallion Gladys had made her, and she could go to LA any time she liked. Pity that was sitting in the pants on the floor of her stupid closet.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
She realized he’d been watching her for the last few minutes.
“About how much I need to get out of these clothes,” it was true. She wasn’t about to talk about Robin.
“Really?” he smirked at her.
“You’ve got a dirty mind,” she said.
“Well, you’re dirty,” he said, grinning wickedly.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You’re still cute under all the grime,” he said softly.
“Does that line usually work for you?” she asked, grinning at him.
“Don’t know, haven’t tried it before,” he said, shrugging and grinning back.
“Well I don’t think it’s gonna work for you tonight… I’m gross and Robin will get here… eventually,” she looked at her watch, but it was covered with yellowish spooge. She sighed.
“It’s almost four am,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said. She was tired standing on the side of the road, so she sat cross-legged, laying the sword across her thighs. She knew that sitting meant she’d acquire more road crud, but she didn’t care. It seemed he was determined to wait with her, and she liked his company, so she might as well get comfortable.
Dean leaned against the car, and looked down at her. She was smaller than she’d seemed. Despite the slime and crud, she was really hot. He could just picture her wrassling with the demon. He grinned at the thought.
“So I know what I’m doing in the middle of nowhere… What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“I’m supposed to meet my father,” Dean rolled his eyes. “But who the hell knows where he is? Guess I’ll have to find me a motel to crash in soon. He’ll show up. He always does.”
“He goes missing often then?” she asked.
“Often enough,” he said, sounding tired. “Sometimes I think I should have gone to college like Sammy – tried the normal life thing,” He made a face.
“No you don’t,” she said, smiling.
“No I don’t,” he said, grinning at her. “But sometimes I envy him.”
“Normal life? How’s that? You see the things we see, you ain’t never gonna be normal.”
“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dean said.
“What did he say?” asked Faith.
“He said he was tired of all the death,” Dean said.
“I can relate,” Faith said. “I don’t know about you, once this life chooses us, I don’t think it ever lets go!”
“You got that right. Dad was pissed. Told him if he wanted to go live a normal life he could stay gone,” Dean said.
“That’s harsh,” Faith said. “That’s fucked up.”
“He’s stubborn,” said Dean.
“Which one?” she asked.
“Both of them, I guess,” Dean said. “I haven’t seen Sammy in months. He won’t pick up when I call either.”
“That sucks,” said Faith.
“Yeah,” said Dean.
She could see lights in the distance. It was Robin's big Caprice station wagon.
"Look's like my ride's here," she said.
Art by Christytrekkie, used by permission, see more in her story, Fanart