FIC: Stranger Things 5/?
Nov. 10th, 2008 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azraelz_angelTITLE: Stranger Things
AUTHOR: Demona
SUMMARY: Response to Challenge 310: Woke Up In Vegas by Jinni. Faith ends up in bed with one Jack O'Neill.
SPOILER WARNING:
For Buffy and Angel: Set after Chosen
For Stargate: Through Season 8
RATING: FR18, at the moment, just to be safe.
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend." - I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel: the Series or Stargate. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission. Joss Whedon is God…
Reviews are happily welcome, though not necessary.
This is set post "Chosen" in Buffy but runs kinda parallel to the earlier seasons of Stargate. Jack is still a Colonel, not General, etc. So yes, I'm really messing with timelines here. Thanks :)
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
NOTE: Flashback will be in italics
I flicked what was left of my cigarette over the railing and watched it shatter on the asphalt below. The dying embers sent me back to the beginning of the mess that had become my life.
The doorbell rang through the house. It echoed out onto the back porch where I was quietly smoking. This had to be important. None of the Gang or any of the girls ever rang or even knocked.
I let my half-smoked Marlboro drift downwards to collide with the patio’s concrete base. The embers danced around bright red and alive but quickly died out.
“Faith,” Vi yelled to get my attention and let me know it was for me. “A guy named Riley Finn says he’s here to talk to you,” she finished and appeared at the door.
“Did you invite him in?”
“No, but he did invite himself in.”
“All right,” I told her and headed through the house to the living room. It was sparse hardly a living room at the moment, but the fact that we had an actual roof over our heads was fantastic.
“Riley Finn, I never thought I’d see the day you came calling for me,” I coolly stated as I walked into the living room where he stood.
“Faith,” he greeted me with a small, tight smile, and a simple nod.
“What do you want Riley?”
“You broke out of prison,” he told me.
“Here to take me back?”
“Not exactly,” he stated and then paused to run a hand through his hair. “But I am here to offer you a complete removal of your public record.”
“How?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for that clown-sized shoe to drop.
“I need help on my team.”
“You want me to join the military?”
“No. I want to be able to call you, at a moment’s notice, to assist me or my team in sticky situations.”
“And what do I get out of the deal?”
“Your record will become classified under my authority. We’ll remove the paper trail in L.A. in regards to your incarceration.”
“How long am I on call? Do I get the right to say no to jobs? And are you aware that my Slayer duties come
first?”
“I am aware you are a Slayer, and that your duties are important. Accordingly, we mere mortals hunt down these demons by ourselves. It would be nice to have a Slayer on call.”
“And how long?”
“Two years being on call…after that it’s completely voluntary. And yes, you have the right to say no, but only if there is an apocalypse in the works. Failure to comply with our requests will result in termination of your classified status. We won’t turn you in but you’ll be a wanted escaped con again.”
“Why didn’t you approach B about her services or lending out a few of our new recruits?”
“She wanted nothing to do with the project. In fact, all the new slayers are off limits…”
“So that left me. The one with everything to gain,” I whispered.
“Pretty much,” he answered with a small shrug. He nervously fiddled with the hair at the back of his neck.
“And I take it you need me for my first assignment today?”
He did have the grace to look slightly sheepish. “Yes. I would feel better going into the nest with at least one slayer,” he agreed.
“Let me make a few calls and grab my stuff,” I relented with a small sigh. I ran both my hands through my hair.
“Fifteen minutes, Faith,” he changed into business mode.
I nodded and walked out of the living room. Fifteen minutes to pack up my weapons and explain to Robin that I was running off to kill dangerous beasties in an attempt to clear my record…and perhaps redeem myself.
~*~
Five days after I left Cleveland my airplane touched down back in Ohio. American soil was so wonderful. I hurt, almost every single inch of my body hurt. But that pain was a vivid reminder that I was alive.
Riley’s first mission was intense. His guys were good; I would give them that. They had a very good idea of what they were doing but they were working off of limited knowledge and military technology. And yes, the military technology was great, but they had no gut instincts nor did they get any vibes off the creatures we faced. I had both, and both were screaming, jumping up and down obnoxiously for me to kill them. But I really wanted to just run and bury my head in the sand. Killing them would do though.
It had been messy. Richardson, one of Riley’s top soldiers had broken two ribs, punctured a lung, and had a pretty severe concussion. He would be out for a while. The other five soldiers, Riley included, had taken a beating too. It had amounted to cuts and bruises, nothing too serious, they were lucky.
I had jumped into the fight and had gotten one. I was nursing a sprained ankle, dislocated shoulder, and enough cuts and bruises to last a lifetime. Too bad that one job wasn’t it for me.
I would do more jobs.
What Riley really needed was additional slayers. I wasn’t entirely sure I was capable of cutting it on my own.
Riley paid for the return flight from Miami to Cleveland. And he also promised to ship me a couple weapons that I liked. Overall not bad.
But no one was waiting for me. I hadn’t had a chance to call anyone before I arrived in Miami. And I had to hustle through the airport to get on my return flight.
I ignored the odd looks I received from people as I exited the terminal. Yes, I had caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. Yes, my face looked like I had been someone’s punching bag. And yes, I smelled horrible. There was no need to point; I just needed to go home, shower and rest. I hailed a cab with the twenty dollars Riley donated to my ‘get home’ cause.
But I was technically a free woman. I had called Wesley on route to the nest and asked for permission to use his last name. It was the closest I could get to really apologizing, and he had accepted. So, officially to the world I was Faith Wyndam-Pryce and any other versions of me didn’t exist.
All I had to do was survive being a slayer on a regular basis and the added danger of helping Riley and his group.
~*~
“Faith?” Jack’s voice called out and brought me back from my memories. Sadly I welcomed my current situation with a husband to drown out the voices of my past.
“Yeah?” I called back, stepping toward the door.
“Your turn,” he stated as he pulled open the door.
“Thanks,” I told him and frowned at the idea of showing and redressing in my clothes. “Why don’t we get a cab over to my hotel so I can change? Then we’ll talk?” I suggested and he nodded. I waited for him to finish getting dressed so we could leave.
I wondered how my husband would take it if I told him I was an ex-con?
AUTHOR: Demona
SUMMARY: Response to Challenge 310: Woke Up In Vegas by Jinni. Faith ends up in bed with one Jack O'Neill.
SPOILER WARNING:
For Buffy and Angel: Set after Chosen
For Stargate: Through Season 8
RATING: FR18, at the moment, just to be safe.
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend." - I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel: the Series or Stargate. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission. Joss Whedon is God…
Reviews are happily welcome, though not necessary.
This is set post "Chosen" in Buffy but runs kinda parallel to the earlier seasons of Stargate. Jack is still a Colonel, not General, etc. So yes, I'm really messing with timelines here. Thanks :)
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
NOTE: Flashback will be in italics
I flicked what was left of my cigarette over the railing and watched it shatter on the asphalt below. The dying embers sent me back to the beginning of the mess that had become my life.
The doorbell rang through the house. It echoed out onto the back porch where I was quietly smoking. This had to be important. None of the Gang or any of the girls ever rang or even knocked.
I let my half-smoked Marlboro drift downwards to collide with the patio’s concrete base. The embers danced around bright red and alive but quickly died out.
“Faith,” Vi yelled to get my attention and let me know it was for me. “A guy named Riley Finn says he’s here to talk to you,” she finished and appeared at the door.
“Did you invite him in?”
“No, but he did invite himself in.”
“All right,” I told her and headed through the house to the living room. It was sparse hardly a living room at the moment, but the fact that we had an actual roof over our heads was fantastic.
“Riley Finn, I never thought I’d see the day you came calling for me,” I coolly stated as I walked into the living room where he stood.
“Faith,” he greeted me with a small, tight smile, and a simple nod.
“What do you want Riley?”
“You broke out of prison,” he told me.
“Here to take me back?”
“Not exactly,” he stated and then paused to run a hand through his hair. “But I am here to offer you a complete removal of your public record.”
“How?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for that clown-sized shoe to drop.
“I need help on my team.”
“You want me to join the military?”
“No. I want to be able to call you, at a moment’s notice, to assist me or my team in sticky situations.”
“And what do I get out of the deal?”
“Your record will become classified under my authority. We’ll remove the paper trail in L.A. in regards to your incarceration.”
“How long am I on call? Do I get the right to say no to jobs? And are you aware that my Slayer duties come
first?”
“I am aware you are a Slayer, and that your duties are important. Accordingly, we mere mortals hunt down these demons by ourselves. It would be nice to have a Slayer on call.”
“And how long?”
“Two years being on call…after that it’s completely voluntary. And yes, you have the right to say no, but only if there is an apocalypse in the works. Failure to comply with our requests will result in termination of your classified status. We won’t turn you in but you’ll be a wanted escaped con again.”
“Why didn’t you approach B about her services or lending out a few of our new recruits?”
“She wanted nothing to do with the project. In fact, all the new slayers are off limits…”
“So that left me. The one with everything to gain,” I whispered.
“Pretty much,” he answered with a small shrug. He nervously fiddled with the hair at the back of his neck.
“And I take it you need me for my first assignment today?”
He did have the grace to look slightly sheepish. “Yes. I would feel better going into the nest with at least one slayer,” he agreed.
“Let me make a few calls and grab my stuff,” I relented with a small sigh. I ran both my hands through my hair.
“Fifteen minutes, Faith,” he changed into business mode.
I nodded and walked out of the living room. Fifteen minutes to pack up my weapons and explain to Robin that I was running off to kill dangerous beasties in an attempt to clear my record…and perhaps redeem myself.
~*~
Five days after I left Cleveland my airplane touched down back in Ohio. American soil was so wonderful. I hurt, almost every single inch of my body hurt. But that pain was a vivid reminder that I was alive.
Riley’s first mission was intense. His guys were good; I would give them that. They had a very good idea of what they were doing but they were working off of limited knowledge and military technology. And yes, the military technology was great, but they had no gut instincts nor did they get any vibes off the creatures we faced. I had both, and both were screaming, jumping up and down obnoxiously for me to kill them. But I really wanted to just run and bury my head in the sand. Killing them would do though.
It had been messy. Richardson, one of Riley’s top soldiers had broken two ribs, punctured a lung, and had a pretty severe concussion. He would be out for a while. The other five soldiers, Riley included, had taken a beating too. It had amounted to cuts and bruises, nothing too serious, they were lucky.
I had jumped into the fight and had gotten one. I was nursing a sprained ankle, dislocated shoulder, and enough cuts and bruises to last a lifetime. Too bad that one job wasn’t it for me.
I would do more jobs.
What Riley really needed was additional slayers. I wasn’t entirely sure I was capable of cutting it on my own.
Riley paid for the return flight from Miami to Cleveland. And he also promised to ship me a couple weapons that I liked. Overall not bad.
But no one was waiting for me. I hadn’t had a chance to call anyone before I arrived in Miami. And I had to hustle through the airport to get on my return flight.
I ignored the odd looks I received from people as I exited the terminal. Yes, I had caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. Yes, my face looked like I had been someone’s punching bag. And yes, I smelled horrible. There was no need to point; I just needed to go home, shower and rest. I hailed a cab with the twenty dollars Riley donated to my ‘get home’ cause.
But I was technically a free woman. I had called Wesley on route to the nest and asked for permission to use his last name. It was the closest I could get to really apologizing, and he had accepted. So, officially to the world I was Faith Wyndam-Pryce and any other versions of me didn’t exist.
All I had to do was survive being a slayer on a regular basis and the added danger of helping Riley and his group.
~*~
“Faith?” Jack’s voice called out and brought me back from my memories. Sadly I welcomed my current situation with a husband to drown out the voices of my past.
“Yeah?” I called back, stepping toward the door.
“Your turn,” he stated as he pulled open the door.
“Thanks,” I told him and frowned at the idea of showing and redressing in my clothes. “Why don’t we get a cab over to my hotel so I can change? Then we’ll talk?” I suggested and he nodded. I waited for him to finish getting dressed so we could leave.
I wondered how my husband would take it if I told him I was an ex-con?
