Sleep of the Just *Complete*
folder
BtVS Crossovers › BtVS/Supernatural
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,198
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS Crossovers › BtVS/Supernatural
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,198
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Unfortunately I don't own Supernatural or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No profit will be made from this work of fiction. The story is based on the afore mentioned video and was written with permission from its owner AliasJaneDoe. The rest of it is mine.
Sleep of the Just
Author's Note: Since this first chapter is based solely on the video, I highly recommend watching it either before or after. It can be found on the page Shadow Called at this address: http://www.shadowcalled.com/archive/viewstory.php?sid=3
Once again, I didn't make the video, but I did get permission before I wrote the story.
SLEEP OF THE JUST
Basic cable was such a bitch. Faith flipped from picture to picture, barely pausing to register what was playing on each channel before moving on. Cartoons… baseball… She stopped on the news channel, just because she heard the word “murder.” She was staring at the reporter on the screen as he talked about the “white male who was found dead” and when the sketch came up on the board beside him, her throat seemed to close, her heart stop. She reached for the glass on the table beside her and heard it crash to the floor, but she didn’t look away, couldn’t look away.
It was him. The sketch had a few features a little off, but it was his face.
“Dean,” she breathed and with the name she was far from LA, from Angel’s apartment. She was back in Sunnydale, in the cemetery…
~*~
Faith’s heart was pounding with adrenaline and excitement as she ran. She’d dusted four of the vamps before reinforcements had arrived and, having always had a strong survival instinct, she ran. Even for a slayer, ten to one odds weren’t that great. She leapt over the gate to the cemetery and hit the grass still running, looking behind her to see if she was being followed without ever slowing down.
The fall took her by surprise, but not as much as the landing. She was running and suddenly the ground wasn’t under her feet anymore. She fell hard and the first thing she thought was that she’d landed on a body. It was a cemetery after all. Then it moved and she almost went for her stake, before she realized it was warm. So, not a vamp. She pushed up on her arms and looked down at the guy she’d flattened. He still had the handle of a shovel in his hand, so she assumed he was the one who’d been doing the digging.
“Really shouldn’t leave open graves lying around like this. Someone might fall in,” she said, still catching her breath as she got to her feet. She held out her hand to help him up and he paused for a moment before he took it. She gave a tug and he was up, brushing himself off and she could see his face in the moonlight. Definitely not the kind of guy she usually met up with in cemeteries at night. If it was, she’d be doing a lot more patrolling.
“Who are you?” she asked, glancing around them at the dirt and down, where the wood of a coffin was cracked under their feet.
“Dean,” he said. “Mind telling me what you’re doing running through a cemetery in the middle of the night?”
Oh, Giles would probably have a fit, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d never been much for the secret identity.
“Running from the vampires,” she said, fully expecting him to start giving her that look that said he thought she was nuts. He didn’t though, just sort of groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Dammit, Sammy didn’t say anything about a nest,” he muttered. Faith’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t comment, just looked up at the sky, then back at Dean.
“So, wanna give me a boost out of here?” she asked, gesturing to the top of the grave, above her head. She might be able to get away with mentioning vampires to a strange guy, but giving away the fact that she was a Slayer, well, that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well.
“Sure,” he said, holding out his hands for her to step in. She took the boost, lifting her self out of the grave with a little hop and pulling herself onto the grass. She turned back to see him climbing out himself.
“So, where was it you saw the vampires?” Dean asked and she smiled a little.
“You don’t want to go in there.”
“Look, it’s sort of my job,” he started and she laughed a little, she couldn’t help it. He sighed, looking a little aggravated, but Faith was used to it. She had that effect on people.
“You look, Dean,” she said, stepping toward him. She reached into her pocket and found the eyeliner she’d sort of ‘borrowed’ from Buffy earlier that night. Then she grabbed his arm and turned his hand over. Using the eyeliner, she wrote the phone number to the motel on the back of his hand.
“You really want to kill vampires, call me tomorrow and we’ll make a day of it. Right now, I gotta get back and check in, or Giles is gonna be wicked pissed,” she told him. Finishing the number with a little flourish, she flashed him a grin and turned to walk away.
“Hey,” he called after her and she turned, walking backward.
“You got a name?”
“It’s Faith.”
~*~
What followed had been a whirlwind of sex and violence and other things that Faith didn’t let herself think too much about. Dean stuck around Sunnydale for a while, he and his brother, Sam. There was a ghost problem somewhere on the outside of town. Ghosts weren’t really in the Slayer’s job description, so she and Buffy had stayed out of their way. Faith and Dean had gone vampire hunting though, destroying the nest she’d found. They’d spent a bit of time after that at the motel, in her room. The same motel he and Sam had checked into the morning after their little encounter at the cemetery.
It was the first time she’d let a guy stay the whole night and it was strange to wake up with him beside her. Stranger still that she found she craved it after that. Two months, they’d stayed and she wondered if they stayed because of ghosts or if they found other reasons. She wondered, but she never asked. For those two months, Dean and Faith spent most of their time together. They argued, they hunted, they played, they made love in the backseat of his Impala. At the time, she’d have denied it, said it was just a tumble, but when she was alone, it was a memory that kept her warm.
When the job came up that they couldn’t ignore, when their friend, Bobby, called and asked for their help, there was a part of Faith that wanted to go with them. The rest of her knew she couldn’t. She had a job here, a calling she couldn’t ignore. Dean and Sam had to go, and she had to stay because if they- if Dean didn’t leave then, she was afraid she might not be able to let him go at all.
They both said they’d call and he had, once. Then her life had taken some unexpected turns and whatever they’d had got left behind along with Sunnydale and the life she’d had there. She had a lot of regrets, but Dean wasn’t one of them…
~*~
“Faith?” she heard Angel say her name and then he was there, taking the remote from her hands, turning off the TV. She had to go, she was mumbling and Angel was telling her no, that she couldn’t just leave. She barely remembered the argument that followed. She knew she told him how much she hated it that it hurt so much. It pissed her off and that gave her strength, maybe enough to get through what came next. The trip was mostly a blur. She drove until she couldn’t see the road anymore and then checked into a cheap motel, trying desperately not to think that it was the kind of place Dean and Sam would have stayed in. She did okay until she took a shower. Memories of another shower, in another motel on a long, lazy afternoon came flooding back and the tears came then, along with the rage.
The walls cracked, porcelain tiles flying when she pounded her fists on the wall in front of her with a painful cry. She didn’t feel them cut her, but she tasted blood, saw it wash down the drain as she scrubbed her hands over her face, as if to wash away whatever tears had escaped. Afterward, she’d curled up on the bed, staring at the wall, hoping desperately not to dream as she fell asleep.
The cemetery was a lot like the one where they’d met, lying in a grave on top of a coffin. Only Dean wasn’t standing on the coffin this time, he was in it. There was his name, engraved on the tombstone. She stood above it, hands in her coat pockets, tears prickling at the back of her eyes when she spoke.
“I know it’s been a while, but… I’ve been busy. I guess nobody would understand that better than you,” she said. She thought she saw a flicker of movement, a flash of brown hair, a quirky smile and she looked up, expecting to see him, but no one was there. Just an empty cemetery. Faith took an unsteady breath and knelt beside the stone.
“Goodbye, Dean Winchester,” she whispered, touching the cold marble.
Then she stood up and turned and walked away.
~*~
Once again, I didn't make the video, but I did get permission before I wrote the story.
SLEEP OF THE JUST
Basic cable was such a bitch. Faith flipped from picture to picture, barely pausing to register what was playing on each channel before moving on. Cartoons… baseball… She stopped on the news channel, just because she heard the word “murder.” She was staring at the reporter on the screen as he talked about the “white male who was found dead” and when the sketch came up on the board beside him, her throat seemed to close, her heart stop. She reached for the glass on the table beside her and heard it crash to the floor, but she didn’t look away, couldn’t look away.
It was him. The sketch had a few features a little off, but it was his face.
“Dean,” she breathed and with the name she was far from LA, from Angel’s apartment. She was back in Sunnydale, in the cemetery…
~*~
Faith’s heart was pounding with adrenaline and excitement as she ran. She’d dusted four of the vamps before reinforcements had arrived and, having always had a strong survival instinct, she ran. Even for a slayer, ten to one odds weren’t that great. She leapt over the gate to the cemetery and hit the grass still running, looking behind her to see if she was being followed without ever slowing down.
The fall took her by surprise, but not as much as the landing. She was running and suddenly the ground wasn’t under her feet anymore. She fell hard and the first thing she thought was that she’d landed on a body. It was a cemetery after all. Then it moved and she almost went for her stake, before she realized it was warm. So, not a vamp. She pushed up on her arms and looked down at the guy she’d flattened. He still had the handle of a shovel in his hand, so she assumed he was the one who’d been doing the digging.
“Really shouldn’t leave open graves lying around like this. Someone might fall in,” she said, still catching her breath as she got to her feet. She held out her hand to help him up and he paused for a moment before he took it. She gave a tug and he was up, brushing himself off and she could see his face in the moonlight. Definitely not the kind of guy she usually met up with in cemeteries at night. If it was, she’d be doing a lot more patrolling.
“Who are you?” she asked, glancing around them at the dirt and down, where the wood of a coffin was cracked under their feet.
“Dean,” he said. “Mind telling me what you’re doing running through a cemetery in the middle of the night?”
Oh, Giles would probably have a fit, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d never been much for the secret identity.
“Running from the vampires,” she said, fully expecting him to start giving her that look that said he thought she was nuts. He didn’t though, just sort of groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Dammit, Sammy didn’t say anything about a nest,” he muttered. Faith’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t comment, just looked up at the sky, then back at Dean.
“So, wanna give me a boost out of here?” she asked, gesturing to the top of the grave, above her head. She might be able to get away with mentioning vampires to a strange guy, but giving away the fact that she was a Slayer, well, that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well.
“Sure,” he said, holding out his hands for her to step in. She took the boost, lifting her self out of the grave with a little hop and pulling herself onto the grass. She turned back to see him climbing out himself.
“So, where was it you saw the vampires?” Dean asked and she smiled a little.
“You don’t want to go in there.”
“Look, it’s sort of my job,” he started and she laughed a little, she couldn’t help it. He sighed, looking a little aggravated, but Faith was used to it. She had that effect on people.
“You look, Dean,” she said, stepping toward him. She reached into her pocket and found the eyeliner she’d sort of ‘borrowed’ from Buffy earlier that night. Then she grabbed his arm and turned his hand over. Using the eyeliner, she wrote the phone number to the motel on the back of his hand.
“You really want to kill vampires, call me tomorrow and we’ll make a day of it. Right now, I gotta get back and check in, or Giles is gonna be wicked pissed,” she told him. Finishing the number with a little flourish, she flashed him a grin and turned to walk away.
“Hey,” he called after her and she turned, walking backward.
“You got a name?”
“It’s Faith.”
~*~
What followed had been a whirlwind of sex and violence and other things that Faith didn’t let herself think too much about. Dean stuck around Sunnydale for a while, he and his brother, Sam. There was a ghost problem somewhere on the outside of town. Ghosts weren’t really in the Slayer’s job description, so she and Buffy had stayed out of their way. Faith and Dean had gone vampire hunting though, destroying the nest she’d found. They’d spent a bit of time after that at the motel, in her room. The same motel he and Sam had checked into the morning after their little encounter at the cemetery.
It was the first time she’d let a guy stay the whole night and it was strange to wake up with him beside her. Stranger still that she found she craved it after that. Two months, they’d stayed and she wondered if they stayed because of ghosts or if they found other reasons. She wondered, but she never asked. For those two months, Dean and Faith spent most of their time together. They argued, they hunted, they played, they made love in the backseat of his Impala. At the time, she’d have denied it, said it was just a tumble, but when she was alone, it was a memory that kept her warm.
When the job came up that they couldn’t ignore, when their friend, Bobby, called and asked for their help, there was a part of Faith that wanted to go with them. The rest of her knew she couldn’t. She had a job here, a calling she couldn’t ignore. Dean and Sam had to go, and she had to stay because if they- if Dean didn’t leave then, she was afraid she might not be able to let him go at all.
They both said they’d call and he had, once. Then her life had taken some unexpected turns and whatever they’d had got left behind along with Sunnydale and the life she’d had there. She had a lot of regrets, but Dean wasn’t one of them…
~*~
“Faith?” she heard Angel say her name and then he was there, taking the remote from her hands, turning off the TV. She had to go, she was mumbling and Angel was telling her no, that she couldn’t just leave. She barely remembered the argument that followed. She knew she told him how much she hated it that it hurt so much. It pissed her off and that gave her strength, maybe enough to get through what came next. The trip was mostly a blur. She drove until she couldn’t see the road anymore and then checked into a cheap motel, trying desperately not to think that it was the kind of place Dean and Sam would have stayed in. She did okay until she took a shower. Memories of another shower, in another motel on a long, lazy afternoon came flooding back and the tears came then, along with the rage.
The walls cracked, porcelain tiles flying when she pounded her fists on the wall in front of her with a painful cry. She didn’t feel them cut her, but she tasted blood, saw it wash down the drain as she scrubbed her hands over her face, as if to wash away whatever tears had escaped. Afterward, she’d curled up on the bed, staring at the wall, hoping desperately not to dream as she fell asleep.
The cemetery was a lot like the one where they’d met, lying in a grave on top of a coffin. Only Dean wasn’t standing on the coffin this time, he was in it. There was his name, engraved on the tombstone. She stood above it, hands in her coat pockets, tears prickling at the back of her eyes when she spoke.
“I know it’s been a while, but… I’ve been busy. I guess nobody would understand that better than you,” she said. She thought she saw a flicker of movement, a flash of brown hair, a quirky smile and she looked up, expecting to see him, but no one was there. Just an empty cemetery. Faith took an unsteady breath and knelt beside the stone.
“Goodbye, Dean Winchester,” she whispered, touching the cold marble.
Then she stood up and turned and walked away.
~*~