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azraelz_angelTITLE: Never Happily Ever After
AUTHOR: Demona
EMAIL: Demona_The_Dark_One (at) yahoo (dot) com
SUMMARY: They say if it wasn’t for bad luck some people just wouldn’t have any at all. John Winchester and Faith Lehane know all about that.
RATING: FR15
NOTES: Set after "Chosen" for Buffy and Pre-Series for Supernatural.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series, they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Written for SPN_BtVS's fic-a-thon. I had![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
avamclean who requested:
Four pairings you wouldn't mind reading: Illyria/Winchester of your choice, Faith/John, Bobby/Buffy (in a nonsexual way), Ellen/Xander
Max rating you will read: NC-17
Three things you do *not* want in your fic: Character bashing, Character death (unless its Jo), Sammy having a vision
Three things you *do* want in your fic: Handcuffs (in a nonsexual way), character development, Mentions of past hunt/patrol gone horribly wrong
Ava, honey, I’m sorry for the delay – believe me I am – but writing this was like pulling teeth. My Faith/John muse just wasn’t working with me. But despite the late hour of posting I hope that you enjoy this! *hugs*
********
Now
The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into Faith’s wrists as she landed on her back. Her wrists smashed underneath her, almost crushed by the force and weight of her body connecting with the ground. She couldn’t hold back the groan of pain.
“She’s not looking so tough now, is she Jimmy?” Faith’s attacker calmly asked as he stood over the prone form of John Winchester.
Then
Faith’s day certainly wasn’t going as planned. Of course it had all gone to shit a couple hours ago when she had crossed paths with John Winchester in the local watering hole. They were both on the same damn hunt yet again. And they were both too damn stubborn to back down or god forbid attempt to work together. They’d tried that before – the working together thing – and it had worked for awhile. It’d worked until John came to the realization that the sex he’d been having with Faith had turned into something a little more along the way. And that somehow violated the memory of Mary, and also interfered with his hunt for The Demon, the thing responsible for ruining his life. So he did what he did best – he left Faith behind with a bullshit story about her being in danger if she got too close. Faith had been pretty proud of herself that she’d only hit him once in the face, and not even with her full Slayer strength. As far as she was concerned he deserved a hell of a lot more.
All the hostility and anger that resurfaced upon seeing John Winchester again had disappeared when two of the pool players from earlier had followed Faith and John out back behind the bar. It seemed they hadn’t been too thrilled to have been hustled out of their latest paychecks. Faith had been too caught up in her argument with John to notice they were in trouble. She saw the bat as it started its motion, already on its intended path, and Faith knew she was too late as she reached to pull John out of the way. She grabbed his shirt, her panic-filled eyes meeting his, as she tried to pull him forward. The bat glanced off the back of his head, what had been intended as a killing blow only knocked him out. His body surged forward, colliding with hers and taking them both down.
He was dead weight as they hit the ground. Her body trapped underneath his. She reached for his neck, fingers fumbling around, desperate to find a pulse. Relief flowed through her as she found it, steady against her fingers, and John’s even breathing tickled her neck. She rolled him off her and flipped to her feet. The men weren’t expecting her to get up, let alone attack. She landed a solid punch to John’s attacker’s face. He stumbled, the bat falling out of his hands and clattering on the ground, as he collapsed to his knees. She started forward to finish what she had started, but froze when she heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Faith came face to face with the business end of a handgun that the guy had pulled out of his pants. She slowly raised her hands and took a couple steps back. John had managed to get them in a little deeper than usual.
Before
Faith had been tracking the shifter for three weeks. It had stopped killing when it realized she was onto it, but it didn’t stop moving. The lack of killings had been a blessing and a curse. When it stopped taking lives it made its trail more difficult to track. It had killed almost a dozen men, women, and children that Faith could confirm and probably countless more. It had no pattern, no reason that Faith could come up with for selecting its victims. There was nothing to connect them, and no way to guess its next victim.
It had been on that hunt that Faith had first met John Winchester. She knew her life would never be the same even as he pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger.
Now
“Okay,” Faith quietly, calmly, stated. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline racing through her veins, keeping her wired even with the gun in her face.
“Shut your mouth!” the gunman yelled at her. Faith promptly shut her mouth but never took her eyes off the gun.
“Ron, you okay?” asked the second man as he stood off to the side and watched the man she had just struck down.
“Damn it!” Ron swore and spit blood and a couple teeth into the dirt at his feet. “I think she almost broke my jaw,” he muttered as he forced himself to his feet. He swayed once he was standing, drifting from side to side, but he did not fall. His face was bruised and swollen already. He’d been lucky that she had pulled her punch at the last second otherwise he’d have stayed down permanently. The look of hatred on his face sent a chill down Faith’s spine. Things had escalated too far out of control.
“Let’s get our money and get the hell out of here, Ron,” the guy suggested, his voice taking on a slightly nervous, borderline hysterical pitch. “No need to go any further. I’m sure the young lady will be more than happy to take her Dad and get outta here.”
Faith couldn’t help but snicker at the Dad comment, wishing John could have been awake to hear it. But belatedly she realized it probably wasn’t the best move she could have made.
“No. Not when she thinks this is all a big joke,” Ron angrily spat. He reached behind his back again and Faith tensed. She was only slightly relieved to see him pull out a pair of handcuffs this time. “Put these on,” Ron told her and tossed them at her. They landed in the dirt at her feet, sending up a small cloud of dust.
“No,” Faith calmly stated and with a shake of her head.
Ron took a step towards Faith, looking past her at John on the ground. “I can finish what I started,” he offered.
“No. I’ll put them on. Just don’t…” Faith quickly complied. She bent down and grabbed the cuffs.
As she was locking them around her left wrist Ron spoke, “Behind your back, sweetheart. There’s no way I’m letting you keep your hands in front of you.”
Faith’s lips curled back into a sneer, but she secured her hands behind her back. She turned around, to show him her secured hands, and as she was turning back to face him, he delivered a solid uppercut to her jaw. She lost her footing and took a small flight backwards.
Before
The bullet passed through her left arm, punching a hole in the muscle before it exited the other side. The shot spun her around, sending her tumbling to her knees on the factory’s floor. It’d hurt – burned – like a bitch.
“Fuck!” Faith yelled as her knees scraped across the concrete.
“That should have been a heart shot,” the man’s gravely voice washed over her. She looked up at him as he took a steady firing position a few feet from her.
“I’m pretty sure a normal shot will do the trick. What do you think I am?” Faith yelled at him as she grasped her arm tightly. Blood began to gush through her fingers as she added pressure.
“Playing dumb isn’t going to save you. You killed that kid and attacked me,” the man stated.
“It took my form?” Faith’s voice dropped to barely an audible whisper. “It killed a kid? It killed a kid with my body?” Faith’s voice grew hysterical at the thought.
“It?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The goddamn shapeshifter I’m tracking. I’ve been on it for three weeks, across two states. It stopped killing and I had more trouble following it,” Faith ground out.
“You’re a hunter?”
“I’m a Slayer. Killing these things is what I do,” Faith honestly explained.
“The Slayer is a myth.”
“Well most myths don’t bleed do they?” she sarcastically tossed out. “If it’s in my body we need to get it. I can’t afford to draw any more attention to myself,” Faith told him as she struggled to her feet.
He looked a little torn over what to do. But he quickly made his decision, sliding his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, and pulled out a knife. Faith watched cautiously as he cut a strip off his flannel overshirt.
“I’m John,” he introduced himself as he approached her with his makeshift bandage.
“Faith,” she introduced herself as he tied the shirt tightly around her arm.
“I’ve been on it for a week. We need to kill it before it moves again.”
“Agreed. You gonna shoot me again?” Faith asked, rotating her arm and flinching at the pain.
“I won’t make any promises but let’s hope not,” he answered with a wry smile. “You’re going to need stitches,” he told her.
“Nah, give me a couple days and I’ll be right as rain. Let’s go back to where it killed the kid and attacked you. Let’s see what we can come up with together,” Faith suggested. John nodded once and headed off in the direction he had just come from.
Now
“She’s not looking so tough now, is she Jimmy?” Ron asked as he stood, laughing over Faith’s body. She squirmed, trying to take weight off her wrists. She managed to roll on her side, facing John. His breathing had increased and she saw him open his eyes for a brief moment. John was fine. John was alive and aware of the situation.
“What are we doing here Ron?” Jimmy asked. He didn’t sound nearly as confident as his friend. “Why’d you bring your gun anyway?” Jimmy took a couple of steps back toward the rear exit of the bar. He turned, reaching for the door, and he almost had the handle when the shot ran out. Faith watched in horror as the door was covered in blood splatter and Jimmy’s lifeless body collapsed.
John didn’t waste a second as he pulled the gun free from the back of his jeans and rolled onto his back. He took aim, two hands holding the gun to steady his shot, and fired. John had an uncanny knack of hitting heart shots. In all the years that Faith had known him she’d only seen him missing once and that was a special circumstance. Ron stumbled back from the force of the bullet and slowly his eyes dropped to the hole in his chest. His head tilted back up and Faith expected to see the light fading from his eyes. She didn’t expect to see solid black orbs where Ron’s eyes should have been. Fortunately John seemed to have been expecting that because he emptied the rest of his clip into him.
Faith wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the fact that the guy had run off, body riddled with bullet holes, or that John stuck around and helped her rather than running off to kill the bad guy.
Before
Faith followed John as he backtracked through the factory, back to where the kid had been killed and where the shifter – in Faith’s body – had attacked him. The further they walked, the more restless Faith grew. There was something, something important, buzzing around in her mind, just out of her reach. Something was wrong, something was off, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The cool blade of her silver knife was a welcome and reassuring presence at the small of her back. When she finally found this thing she was going to go the extra mile and carve its heart out.
“Almost there,” John murmured as they turned down their final darkened hallway.
The thick smell of copper coated the air as they stepped into a small room. Faith stopped in the doorway, staring at the small body of the child lying in a small lake of its own blood. Her feet propelled her further into the room. She’d almost made it to the body when a metal chair scraped violently across the tiled floor. The sound, loud and raw in the stark silence of the abandoned factory, caused her to jump. Her eyes cut to the side to find the source of the disturbance and she was shocked to see John bound and gagged, struggling desperately to free himself.
She turned, the pieces finally coming together, to look for the shifter in John’s body. He stood in the doorway, a can of gasoline at his feet and a lit cigarette barely hanging between his lips.
“I’m a little disappointed it was this easy,” John’s easy drawl crawled over her skin. He kicked the can, sending its contents spilling out and making a rapid path toward John. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon Faith,” he added, drawing in a long drag off the cigarette. He carefully pulled it from his lips and exhaled a series of perfect smoke rings. And then he flicked the lit cigarette into the room and disappeared out the door.
The fire ignited immediately, spreading across the small liquid river of gasoline in the room. Faith looked at the door, wondering if she could catch him, and then back at the man gagged and bound with the fire rapidly approaching. She screamed in frustration and rushed to aid the real John to safety.
Outside when John finally spoke, his voice was gravely just as the shifter’s had been. The vibe she was getting off him was purely human though. “I wasn’t sure whether you were going to give chase,” John quietly mentioned as they watched the fire spread throughout the factory. They hadn’t been able to drag the body of the boy out before the fire engulfed the room, forcing them to flee.
“Neither was I,” Faith honestly answered with closed eyes.
********
AUTHOR: Demona
EMAIL: Demona_The_Dark_One (at) yahoo (dot) com
SUMMARY: They say if it wasn’t for bad luck some people just wouldn’t have any at all. John Winchester and Faith Lehane know all about that.
RATING: FR15
NOTES: Set after "Chosen" for Buffy and Pre-Series for Supernatural.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series, they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Written for SPN_BtVS's fic-a-thon. I had
avamclean who requested:Four pairings you wouldn't mind reading: Illyria/Winchester of your choice, Faith/John, Bobby/Buffy (in a nonsexual way), Ellen/Xander
Max rating you will read: NC-17
Three things you do *not* want in your fic: Character bashing, Character death (unless its Jo), Sammy having a vision
Three things you *do* want in your fic: Handcuffs (in a nonsexual way), character development, Mentions of past hunt/patrol gone horribly wrong
Ava, honey, I’m sorry for the delay – believe me I am – but writing this was like pulling teeth. My Faith/John muse just wasn’t working with me. But despite the late hour of posting I hope that you enjoy this! *hugs*
********
Now
The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into Faith’s wrists as she landed on her back. Her wrists smashed underneath her, almost crushed by the force and weight of her body connecting with the ground. She couldn’t hold back the groan of pain.
“She’s not looking so tough now, is she Jimmy?” Faith’s attacker calmly asked as he stood over the prone form of John Winchester.
Then
Faith’s day certainly wasn’t going as planned. Of course it had all gone to shit a couple hours ago when she had crossed paths with John Winchester in the local watering hole. They were both on the same damn hunt yet again. And they were both too damn stubborn to back down or god forbid attempt to work together. They’d tried that before – the working together thing – and it had worked for awhile. It’d worked until John came to the realization that the sex he’d been having with Faith had turned into something a little more along the way. And that somehow violated the memory of Mary, and also interfered with his hunt for The Demon, the thing responsible for ruining his life. So he did what he did best – he left Faith behind with a bullshit story about her being in danger if she got too close. Faith had been pretty proud of herself that she’d only hit him once in the face, and not even with her full Slayer strength. As far as she was concerned he deserved a hell of a lot more.
All the hostility and anger that resurfaced upon seeing John Winchester again had disappeared when two of the pool players from earlier had followed Faith and John out back behind the bar. It seemed they hadn’t been too thrilled to have been hustled out of their latest paychecks. Faith had been too caught up in her argument with John to notice they were in trouble. She saw the bat as it started its motion, already on its intended path, and Faith knew she was too late as she reached to pull John out of the way. She grabbed his shirt, her panic-filled eyes meeting his, as she tried to pull him forward. The bat glanced off the back of his head, what had been intended as a killing blow only knocked him out. His body surged forward, colliding with hers and taking them both down.
He was dead weight as they hit the ground. Her body trapped underneath his. She reached for his neck, fingers fumbling around, desperate to find a pulse. Relief flowed through her as she found it, steady against her fingers, and John’s even breathing tickled her neck. She rolled him off her and flipped to her feet. The men weren’t expecting her to get up, let alone attack. She landed a solid punch to John’s attacker’s face. He stumbled, the bat falling out of his hands and clattering on the ground, as he collapsed to his knees. She started forward to finish what she had started, but froze when she heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Faith came face to face with the business end of a handgun that the guy had pulled out of his pants. She slowly raised her hands and took a couple steps back. John had managed to get them in a little deeper than usual.
Before
Faith had been tracking the shifter for three weeks. It had stopped killing when it realized she was onto it, but it didn’t stop moving. The lack of killings had been a blessing and a curse. When it stopped taking lives it made its trail more difficult to track. It had killed almost a dozen men, women, and children that Faith could confirm and probably countless more. It had no pattern, no reason that Faith could come up with for selecting its victims. There was nothing to connect them, and no way to guess its next victim.
It had been on that hunt that Faith had first met John Winchester. She knew her life would never be the same even as he pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger.
Now
“Okay,” Faith quietly, calmly, stated. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline racing through her veins, keeping her wired even with the gun in her face.
“Shut your mouth!” the gunman yelled at her. Faith promptly shut her mouth but never took her eyes off the gun.
“Ron, you okay?” asked the second man as he stood off to the side and watched the man she had just struck down.
“Damn it!” Ron swore and spit blood and a couple teeth into the dirt at his feet. “I think she almost broke my jaw,” he muttered as he forced himself to his feet. He swayed once he was standing, drifting from side to side, but he did not fall. His face was bruised and swollen already. He’d been lucky that she had pulled her punch at the last second otherwise he’d have stayed down permanently. The look of hatred on his face sent a chill down Faith’s spine. Things had escalated too far out of control.
“Let’s get our money and get the hell out of here, Ron,” the guy suggested, his voice taking on a slightly nervous, borderline hysterical pitch. “No need to go any further. I’m sure the young lady will be more than happy to take her Dad and get outta here.”
Faith couldn’t help but snicker at the Dad comment, wishing John could have been awake to hear it. But belatedly she realized it probably wasn’t the best move she could have made.
“No. Not when she thinks this is all a big joke,” Ron angrily spat. He reached behind his back again and Faith tensed. She was only slightly relieved to see him pull out a pair of handcuffs this time. “Put these on,” Ron told her and tossed them at her. They landed in the dirt at her feet, sending up a small cloud of dust.
“No,” Faith calmly stated and with a shake of her head.
Ron took a step towards Faith, looking past her at John on the ground. “I can finish what I started,” he offered.
“No. I’ll put them on. Just don’t…” Faith quickly complied. She bent down and grabbed the cuffs.
As she was locking them around her left wrist Ron spoke, “Behind your back, sweetheart. There’s no way I’m letting you keep your hands in front of you.”
Faith’s lips curled back into a sneer, but she secured her hands behind her back. She turned around, to show him her secured hands, and as she was turning back to face him, he delivered a solid uppercut to her jaw. She lost her footing and took a small flight backwards.
Before
The bullet passed through her left arm, punching a hole in the muscle before it exited the other side. The shot spun her around, sending her tumbling to her knees on the factory’s floor. It’d hurt – burned – like a bitch.
“Fuck!” Faith yelled as her knees scraped across the concrete.
“That should have been a heart shot,” the man’s gravely voice washed over her. She looked up at him as he took a steady firing position a few feet from her.
“I’m pretty sure a normal shot will do the trick. What do you think I am?” Faith yelled at him as she grasped her arm tightly. Blood began to gush through her fingers as she added pressure.
“Playing dumb isn’t going to save you. You killed that kid and attacked me,” the man stated.
“It took my form?” Faith’s voice dropped to barely an audible whisper. “It killed a kid? It killed a kid with my body?” Faith’s voice grew hysterical at the thought.
“It?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The goddamn shapeshifter I’m tracking. I’ve been on it for three weeks, across two states. It stopped killing and I had more trouble following it,” Faith ground out.
“You’re a hunter?”
“I’m a Slayer. Killing these things is what I do,” Faith honestly explained.
“The Slayer is a myth.”
“Well most myths don’t bleed do they?” she sarcastically tossed out. “If it’s in my body we need to get it. I can’t afford to draw any more attention to myself,” Faith told him as she struggled to her feet.
He looked a little torn over what to do. But he quickly made his decision, sliding his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, and pulled out a knife. Faith watched cautiously as he cut a strip off his flannel overshirt.
“I’m John,” he introduced himself as he approached her with his makeshift bandage.
“Faith,” she introduced herself as he tied the shirt tightly around her arm.
“I’ve been on it for a week. We need to kill it before it moves again.”
“Agreed. You gonna shoot me again?” Faith asked, rotating her arm and flinching at the pain.
“I won’t make any promises but let’s hope not,” he answered with a wry smile. “You’re going to need stitches,” he told her.
“Nah, give me a couple days and I’ll be right as rain. Let’s go back to where it killed the kid and attacked you. Let’s see what we can come up with together,” Faith suggested. John nodded once and headed off in the direction he had just come from.
Now
“She’s not looking so tough now, is she Jimmy?” Ron asked as he stood, laughing over Faith’s body. She squirmed, trying to take weight off her wrists. She managed to roll on her side, facing John. His breathing had increased and she saw him open his eyes for a brief moment. John was fine. John was alive and aware of the situation.
“What are we doing here Ron?” Jimmy asked. He didn’t sound nearly as confident as his friend. “Why’d you bring your gun anyway?” Jimmy took a couple of steps back toward the rear exit of the bar. He turned, reaching for the door, and he almost had the handle when the shot ran out. Faith watched in horror as the door was covered in blood splatter and Jimmy’s lifeless body collapsed.
John didn’t waste a second as he pulled the gun free from the back of his jeans and rolled onto his back. He took aim, two hands holding the gun to steady his shot, and fired. John had an uncanny knack of hitting heart shots. In all the years that Faith had known him she’d only seen him missing once and that was a special circumstance. Ron stumbled back from the force of the bullet and slowly his eyes dropped to the hole in his chest. His head tilted back up and Faith expected to see the light fading from his eyes. She didn’t expect to see solid black orbs where Ron’s eyes should have been. Fortunately John seemed to have been expecting that because he emptied the rest of his clip into him.
Faith wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the fact that the guy had run off, body riddled with bullet holes, or that John stuck around and helped her rather than running off to kill the bad guy.
Before
Faith followed John as he backtracked through the factory, back to where the kid had been killed and where the shifter – in Faith’s body – had attacked him. The further they walked, the more restless Faith grew. There was something, something important, buzzing around in her mind, just out of her reach. Something was wrong, something was off, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The cool blade of her silver knife was a welcome and reassuring presence at the small of her back. When she finally found this thing she was going to go the extra mile and carve its heart out.
“Almost there,” John murmured as they turned down their final darkened hallway.
The thick smell of copper coated the air as they stepped into a small room. Faith stopped in the doorway, staring at the small body of the child lying in a small lake of its own blood. Her feet propelled her further into the room. She’d almost made it to the body when a metal chair scraped violently across the tiled floor. The sound, loud and raw in the stark silence of the abandoned factory, caused her to jump. Her eyes cut to the side to find the source of the disturbance and she was shocked to see John bound and gagged, struggling desperately to free himself.
She turned, the pieces finally coming together, to look for the shifter in John’s body. He stood in the doorway, a can of gasoline at his feet and a lit cigarette barely hanging between his lips.
“I’m a little disappointed it was this easy,” John’s easy drawl crawled over her skin. He kicked the can, sending its contents spilling out and making a rapid path toward John. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon Faith,” he added, drawing in a long drag off the cigarette. He carefully pulled it from his lips and exhaled a series of perfect smoke rings. And then he flicked the lit cigarette into the room and disappeared out the door.
The fire ignited immediately, spreading across the small liquid river of gasoline in the room. Faith looked at the door, wondering if she could catch him, and then back at the man gagged and bound with the fire rapidly approaching. She screamed in frustration and rushed to aid the real John to safety.
Outside when John finally spoke, his voice was gravely just as the shifter’s had been. The vibe she was getting off him was purely human though. “I wasn’t sure whether you were going to give chase,” John quietly mentioned as they watched the fire spread throughout the factory. They hadn’t been able to drag the body of the boy out before the fire engulfed the room, forcing them to flee.
“Neither was I,” Faith honestly answered with closed eyes.
********
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-20 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-20 09:22 pm (UTC)Thanks for the instant review love. You rock my socks :)
And I am slowly working my way through the
no subject
Date: 2007-03-20 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-20 09:30 pm (UTC)I was really worried about how I had set the whole story up, flipping back and forth through time and between the hunts. But I'm so glad to hear that the flipping worked for you :)
Thanks for the review.
And again, even though you were leaving me a review, I can't tell you how excited I am with the fic-a-thon fic you wrote for me. It makes me smile just thinking about it :)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:31 pm (UTC)My favorite line:
“Well most myths don’t bleed do they?”
You nailed her. :)
I also have to mention:
Three things you do *not* want in your fic: Character bashing, Character death (unless its Jo), Sammy having a vision
HAHAHAHAHA! OMFG . . . that's brilliant and I totally agree.
*almost feels sorry for Jo*
*almost*
*grins*