Fandoms/Characters: BtVS/Supernatural – Faith/Dean, Sam
Part Rating: R
Author’s Notes: So seriously – you can’t tell me Sam’s not smart enough to start to see this trend. And poor Dean. Faith is determined to get him at every opportunity. Of course, he does sort walk right into it and the evil author isn’t really helping matters.
Eternal thanks to Cinjudes for her continuing aid in whipping this one into shape and patiently listening to me prattle on about ‘brilliant’ ideas for scenes that I just need to talk out to see if they will work or not.
Also, a big thank you to those that have taken a second to review. Always encouraging to know people other than Cinjudes and I are reading this. And now? On with the fic!
IV. Behind Blue Eyes
In which Sam notices a trend, Dean nearly cries, and the both sides decide to take a chance and trust each other.
“Would you stay on your side!” Dean snarled, kicking at his brother.
“I am on my side! Think you can get your elbow out of my back?”
They both tried to get comfortable, but it was an impossible hope, squashed together as they were on the tiny sofa bed.
“About Faith. Do you think we should be working with her on this one?
“You’re kidding, right? Did you actually look at her?”
“Yeah…and that was why I was asking. I’m not sure we can trust her.”
Dean rolled over and looked at his brother like he was crazy.
“Dude, I seriously worry about you. That girl?” He said, pointing sharply to the closed bedroom door. “Hot. Really hot. ‘Wears leather pants’ hot.”
Sam rolled his eyes, “I had noticed, but you don’t see any kind of trend with us and hot girls?”
“Like half the time they turn out be evil?!”
“Come on. She’s totally not evil. I mean with the…and then those…”
Sam was rather happy he couldn’t tell what motions Dean was making; not that he needed to see them to know they were some variation on Dean’s standard ‘boobs and ass’ pantomime.
Dean concluded with the very convincing, “Yeah, not evil.”
“I’m just saying maybe we should make a few calls, ask a few questions.”
“It’s three in the morning!”
“So? I’ll send a text.”
Dean rolled back over and buried his face in his pillow. “Whatever. You go do that, just shut up so I can get some sleep.”
He felt the bed shift as his brother got up, followed by the sound of the front door closing. Dean waited a minute before rolling over and stretching out across the entire bed. “Sucker.”
Of course, that didn’t last long. Sammy shoved him back over to his side of the bed as soon as he got back inside, but there had been at least ten minutes of quality sleep there.
It felt like he’d just fallen asleep when he was dragged back to wakefulness. He instinctively batted at his phone, managing to knock it off the end table and send it skittering across the floor, but the sound didn’t stop.
“Nobody knows what it’s like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…”
Dean opened one eye blearily and tried to figure out where it was coming from. The song abruptly cut off, granting a few minutes of precious silence, only to start again right as he was drifting to sleep.
He got out of bed and followed the sound to a cell phone sitting on the kitchen table.
As he snatched it off the table and realized it must be Faith’s. If he was going to have half a chance at more sleep, he’d better just take it to her.
He knocked lightly on the bedroom door and then again, with more force, when there was no answer. Well, he wasn’t going to stand out here all night, he thought, and just opened the door.
He froze, taking in a long expanse of bare, tanned leg leading to an equally bare hip thrown outside the covers.
“Au natural - Sweet,” Dean whispered to himself, lips curling in sly smirk before he remembered why he’d come in here in the first place.
“Hey, Faith.” No response. “FAITH!”
One second she was asleep, the next she stiffened and her arm shot under the other pillow, muscles tightening as she grabbed something.
She looked over her shoulder and let go of whatever it was. “Oh, it’s you. What?”
He held up the cell. “Your phone – either someone keeps calling or else this thing really likes The Who.”
“Toss it here.” She sat up and sheet fell away.
The world lurched a little as all the blood rushed out of his brain. Wow.
She held out her hand and when he didn’t move, she looked down to where he was staring. “Oh come on, I’m pretty sure any guy who looks like you look has seen a pair of tits before. Besides, now we’re even. I got quite the eyeful the other night.”
He looked away at that, his free hand drifting up to touch his ear before he could stop himself. Did his ears really turn red? Why the hell hadn’t anyone told him that before?
He stubbornly forced himself to lower his arm back to his side and looked her right in the eye, or at least somewhere vaguely near her eyes.
“Seriously, just throw me the damned phone.” Her eyes took on a devilish twinkle as she grabbed a fistful of blankets and made to pull them aside. “Unless you really want me to come over there and get it?”
“Here.” He tossed the phone in her general direction and beat a quick retreat, only to find Sam awake and doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk.
“Man, you are so off your game.”
“Zip it.” Dean snapped, his agitation quickly replaced by his usual nonchalant veneer. “And I’m telling you Sammy, there’s not a single thing wrong with that girl. Not that I could see and I could see quite a bit.”
Faith’s voice, drifting from the adjoining room, interrupted him before he could say anything more. “Hey, Giles. You called?”
He could hear her talking to someone on the phone and rummaging around through her things. It didn’t really count as eavesdropping when she left the door open, right?
“I dunno. Another few days? Can’t be sure.”
There was a long pause before Faith snapped, “No! I’m fine. I don’t need backup.”
“Look if it gets out of control, I’ll tell you and you can send in the cavalry.”
Sighing quite loudly Faith added, “Yeah, you can even send Buffy, but I’m tellin’ you - it’s under control.”
The door swung open and Faith went by jean-clad and barefoot, yanking her tank top down into place. She opened the front door and he only caught a last thread of the conversation before the door closed behind her.
“Yeah, two of them. Twenty something? Winchester, they said. Two brothers…”
He knew before he even looked Sam was doing that “I told you so” look.
Yep, there it was. Dean didn’t even want to hear it.
“I get first crack at the shower,” he said and walked away before Sam could say a word.
“Son of bitch!”
Dean stood scowling in the space where his car had been parked the night before.
He hauled off and kicked the curb, wincing a little from the jolt of his foot meeting unyielding concrete. “Goddamn motherfucking sonofa – Sammy, where the hell is my car?!”
“In my pocket. Unlike the last three times you asked.“
Sam was sitting on the curb, staring sullenly at the empty space. Without the car and - more importantly – their weapons and the journal, they were kind of up a creek.
Dean’s hands balled into fists but there wasn’t anything to hit that was going to solve this one. “I can’t believe someone stole the car.”
“Maybe not,” Faith called. While Sam was busy looking like someone shot his puppy and Dean was pitching the mother of all hissy fits, she’d taken a look around.
“Hey, Princess. Check this out.” She pointed at a small sign posted on the wall of the club.
“No overnight parking. Violators will be towed,” Sam read aloud. “Great, at least it hasn’t been stolen.”
“Probably…” He added as the still panicked Dean fixed him with one of the coldest stares he could muster.
Faith flipped her phone open and called the number listed. After a few moments, she snapped her fingers and waved for one of them to give her something to write with. Sam fished a pen out of his pocket and she scribbled the information onto the palm of her hand.
“I got a machine. They towed it to somewhere called Dry Creek?”
Sam thought for a moment. “I think we passed signs for a turn off on the way here – out Rt. 241, past the motel. You got a map?”
She gave him a look that made it clear not only did she not have a map, she saw no fucking need for one.
“Okay, let’s go get lost then,” Sam said sarcastically.
An hour and a half later, he was really wishing he hadn’t said that.
They had passed a sign on the way into town but the turn wasn’t marked heading the other way. They were twenty minutes past it before Faith agreed to turn around and it took another thirty to reach the outskirts of Dry Creek.
The tow lot was the biggest game in town if the number of signs leading the way to it were anything to go by. It wasn’t much – a large dirt patch surrounded by high barbed-wire topped chain fence with a smaller wooden fence inside. Obviously, they were serious about security in these parts.
They got out of the car and headed for the trailer serving as an office when Faith cleared her throat. “Uh, boys? If the voice on the message was anything to go by, you might want to let me handle this one.”
Dean just wanted his baby back – sooner rather than later. “Oh yeah, why?”
Faith just smiled and tugged her tank top a little lower. She shoved her breasts upwards until they were almost falling out of the top and ruffled her hair up a bit. “Trust me on this one. Be back in flash.”
She sauntered to the office, adding a little extra swing to her hips in case anyone inside was watching.
Dean leaned against the car. “You know, I hate to see her go, but man, I love to watch her leave.”
Sam just shook his head. “Your lines are seriously older than you are, Dean.”
Sam’s phone beeped from the depths of his jeans pocket. Out here, it was hard to get reception and they were forever driving in and out of range of a cell tower. Eventually, cell phones would find a signal and catch up with any missed calls.
He dug his phone out of his pocket and, recognizing the number of the last missed call, he hurried to check his voicemail. Good old Bobby had come through again.
“Well?” Dean asked, wondering what was taking Faith so long.
“She checks out – sort of. A few Hunters have crossed paths with the Slayer and the Council before. Bobby said Cleveland is sort of an unofficial no-fly-zone these days. Hunters steer clear and word is it’s because the locals don’t take kindly to hunts on their turf.”
“Huh,” Dean grunted. “You satisfied she’s not evil now?”
Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Well, not exactly. One other thing did show up on Faith Lehane. A few years ago there was a warrant out on her in California. Ash turned it up on an old police archive.”
“And – that’s it. Just the one mention of a warrant for murder and then no record of her after that or any record of the charges being dropped. It just vanished.”
The office door swung open and Faith came out, all smiles and coy looks thrown back over her shoulder to a man that looked like his parents had been a lot closer than ‘kissing cousins’.
Her smirk grew wider as she drew closer. “You two are seriously karma’s bitch. What did you do, Pretty Boy, feel up a nun?”
Her phone rang before he could come up with a snarky reply and she turned away with a wink.
She didn’t seem to mind them overhearing – not that there was much to hear besides a few ‘yeah’s and a very amused ‘really?’. She ended the call and gave them a puzzled look.
“Well, well. You two certainly had me fooled with your Boy Scout act. Guess who has warrants out on them in seven states – and one a felony warrant to boot?” she teased, looking more impressed with Dean by the second. “Someone’s been a very bad boy.”
Dean just shrugged, but Sam felt compelled to explain. “It’s not what you think. Dean…I mean, there were circumstances.”
“Really?” Faith arched an eyebrow. “Because what I think is that shit happens in this business and people get hurt. You show up around one too many stiffs and the cops start asking questions. Besides, you aren’t exactly a choirboy yourself, Peewee. We found two states looking for you.”
Sam scowled. “Well, the State of California was pretty interested in finding you a few years back.”
She looked startled for a moment, but in a blink the look was gone. “Yeah, California and I - we were having a bit of a disagreement.”
Sam crossed his arms across his chest. “Oh?”
“They thought I wasn’t done repaying my debt to society; I thought I was.”
Her tone was casual but there was something in her eyes that said this was a make or break moment. ”Look, I did three years and then the world was gonna end – again. I busted out, helped saved the world, and the Council did their magic and wrangled a little creative record keeping. Poof – no more outstanding warrants.”
Dean had no problem accepting that, but Sam didn’t look completely satisfied. Under the combined weight of his brother’s glare and Faith’s uncertain frown, he begrudgingly agreed that the law wasn’t really receptive to explanations that included details about the things that really did go bump in the night.
That was good enough for Dean. “If were done playing ‘I’m a felon – ask me how’ could we get back to the important issue here? Where the hell is my car?”
The corners of Faith’s mouth twitched. “About the car…It’s not here.”
“My new bestest friend ever, Boomer, said two of his trucks went out on that call last night, but the cops wanted everything towed back to the station instead of out here. Hauled ‘em all to the impound lot behind the station in Hayden’s Divide.”
She checked her other palm and squinted at her scribbled notes. “Um, he said they towed a VW bug, a Camry, two pickups and – I quote – ‘ a really cherry vintage Impala’.”
She looked at Dean. “Let me guess which one’s yours.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just glad to know you’re 100% committed to avoiding subtlety. But hey – there’s good news.”
“What’s that?” Sam asked, not sure there was any good news left in the world.
Faith unlocked the car and after a brief tussle a sulking Dean climbed in the back. Sam climbed in and made a point of pushing the front seat back as far as it would go, flashing a wide grin at his brother.
“You boys check out. One of our contacts has some contacts that run in Hunter circles. They say you two are like the second coming of Clint fuckin’ Eastwood.”
Sam snickered. “Um, Dirty Harry. Clint Eastwood is still alive.”
“You want the good news or not?”
“Just saying it’s hard to be the second coming of someone who’s not dead. So what’s the good news?”
Faith grinned and held up a credit card fished from the mass of wadded up receipts stuffed in the cup holder. “The good news is Giles okayed adding you both to the Council expense account for this one. We’ve got the 411 on these demons; you two have info about the girls. I thought it might be a bit more convenient for the job if you two got a cabin at the lodge. Unless you really wanted to stay at that rat trap?”
Dean answered quickly for them both with a hearty “Hell no”.
Faith’s smile in response to that was different – softer than her usual toothy grins and devilish smirks - and Sam realized it was probably the first genuine smile he’d seen out of this girl. She noticed him watching and the smile evaporated. “Let’s go see if the roaches have carried off all your shit yet. But first – food. I’m starving, yo.”
Finally, something was going right with this case, Dean thought. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and tried to get comfortable, stretching his legs out across the backseat.
“Oh, and Dean?”
He opened his eyes to find her watching him in the mirror. He was learning to be worried when her eyes had that twinkle. “Yeah?”
“Two words – Slayer. Hearing.”
“You should listen to Little Bro. Your lines are totally older than dirt. You actually get laid – like ever?”
“He does and that is one of the greatest mysteries of our time,” Sam answered mock-seriously. He still wasn’t completely sure about Faith, but watching her constantly out-sass Dean was the funniest thing he’d seen in a long time and he was starting to hope she really wasn’t evil.
“You know what? Screw both of you,” Dean grumbled and closed his eyes again. “Wake me up when there’s food.”
End Part 4.