Sleep of the Just *Complete*

~*~



Faith heard the door open and took a deep breath to steady herself. She was in the bathroom, standing with her hands braced against the sink, the black button down shirt drenched from splashing cold water in her face. She’d scrubbed away the last traces of her makeup and when she looked in the mirror, her face looked too pale. Shock, she supposed, and bad bathroom lighting. Pushing away from the sink, she dried her face with the hand towel as she opened the door and stepped into the other room to talk to Dawn.



“Well, did he wake up?” she asked, without looking up. Wouldn’t want to show that it mattered to her if he was okay, after all.



“Yeah, he did,” came the reply and it wasn’t Dawn’s voice. She froze, looking up to see Dean standing just inside the door, his face lighted from the side by a streetlight outside the window. All she could do was stare at him for several minutes, and then she found her voice again.



“You bastard,” she whispered. She heard a tearing sound and glanced down to see her hands clenched in the towel so hard that she was ripping it. She threw it to the floor and looked back at Dean.



“Look, Faith, I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d see that newscast. Hell, I didn’t even know it went national,” he said.



“I thought you were dead. That they put you in the ground,” she said, the words coming out sharp and harsh and she heard him sigh.



“I should have called, told you about the shapeshifter. I just didn’t think-“ he stopped, obviously realizing he shouldn’t finish that statement. She was already starting to move toward him, her whole body shaking, though she wasn’t sure exactly why. Rage, relief, shock, the need to touch him, all of them, she didn’t know.



“I should have called is an excuse for getting in late or standing someone up, Dean, not for letting them believe you died,” she told him. He sighed again and rubbed his hand over his mouth in a familiar gesture that she’d never thought to see again. He was getting aggravated.



“I said I was sorry. Besides, I didn’t think it’d matter so much to you,” he added and suddenly she wanted to hit him again. Her fists clenched as she stepped in front of him, looking up a little to meet his eyes.



“It. Mattered,” she said, pointedly. She was close enough to feel the heat from his body, to see the bruise on his jaw from where she’d hit him, to hear him breathing and then she was reaching up, around his neck, her fingers clenched in his hair to yank him down for a harsh kiss. She felt his arms slide around her waist and then her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. Eyes closed, she felt them moving, and then felt the bed beneath her, Dean above her and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.



Her fingers found the hem of his shirt and slid underneath, palms running over his chest, finding every scar she remembered and a few new ones. He was lean and strong, every muscle defined and the planes of his torso were still as familiar to her as her own. She broke their kiss long enough to strip the shirt off him and he raised his arms to help her, grabbing the shirt from her and throwing it somewhere behind him. She felt his fingers on her shirt, fumbling with the buttons and she grabbed the neck in frustration and tore it, hearing the buttons pop, not caring about anything but feeling his skin against hers.



She was drowning, lost in the sensation, the relief, the need and a thousand other emotions she refused to look too closely at. Their clothes came off quickly, lost on the floor, until it was just them, Faith and Dean, kneeling on the bed, facing one another, with nothing between them but the years spent apart.



“I need you inside me,” she whispered, against his mouth.



~*~



Dean paused for a moment to look at her, to remember. There were new scars, but only a few. Slayers tended to heal faster than other people and to scar less. He ran his hands down her back, starting at the nape of her neck, palms sliding over satin skin and fingers caressing the lean muscles that moved under them. She’d never been bulky, but she’d always felt like this, silk over steel.



He kissed her again, softer this time and she when she spoke, her voice shook.



“I need you inside me.”



The words were like a match on kerosene and heat tore through him anew. He put one arm around her to catch her and with the other hand, caught the back of her thigh and pulled, tumbling her back onto the bed. He paused over her, looking down, dark hair spread on the white pillow, lips parted, eyes heavy lidded and dark. Faith. Without breaking eye contact, he shifted and slid inside her and felt like he’d finally come home.



~*~



Faith gave a soft cry when he filled her, lifting her hips to meet him, feeling a thickness in her throat, like she might cry. No one else made her feel this way, ever. That sense that he was her match, that they fit together as if they belonged. For a brief moment, she thought there might be tears, but then he moved and all rational thought was lost. There was nothing but Dean, inside her and all around her.



~*~



Dean sighed, breathing in the scent of Faith’s hair. She was curled against him, her head on his shoulder, the sheets tangled around them. He had no idea where their clothes had disappeared to, but at the moment, it just didn’t seem important. He’d almost forgotten about this, almost made himself forget when he’d left her in that little town so long ago. People like them didn’t get happy endings, he’d told himself, but now it just felt like an excuse.



“You know this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” Faith said, her breath tickling his chest. He had to smile.



“Yeah, I know.” He was silent for a moment, his fingers trailing up and down her arm before he remembered.



“Huh, I wonder if Sammy and Dawn are still outside?”



Faith raised her head.



“You left Sam and Dawn outside?”



“Well, they kind of insisted. Wanted to make sure you weren’t going to put me in a coma,” he said. She rolled her eyes and sighed.



“It’s been hours, Dean. If they’re still out there, they’re freezing,” she said, getting out of bed. He appreciated the view while she grabbed some clothes out of her bag and slipped into gray sweats and a black tank top.



“The Impala’s got a heater,” he said, in his own defense as she went to the window and peered through the blinds. She glanced back at him with a look that spoke volumes.



“I remember,” she said, and he remembered the afternoon they’d spent together in the Impala, parked just outside of town in the woods.



“They’re not out there. Guess they went back to your room,” Faith said. She looked over her shoulder at him and he blinked, coming back to the present.



“You think we should call them?”



“Why? They’re probably asleep. And if they’re not, I don’t want to interrupt,” he added, as an afterthought. Faith raised her eyebrows, then gave a sort of half-shrug as if to say ‘it could happen’.



“So what now?” she asked, stepping away from the window.



“Now? Now you come back to bed and we get some sleep and in the morning, we go vampire hunting,” he said with a grin, knowing she’d love the idea of a hunt.



“Mmm, yeah, about that vampire nest,” she said, crawling over his legs and sliding under the sheets beside him. “We sort of already took care of it.”



“Well in that case I guess we can sleep in.”



~*~