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- the workings of an easily distracted fangirl


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fic: Paths Crossed - chapter Six
xover//dean/faith weapons - me
whiskyinmind wrote in fandomsbitca
Faith could see shadows moving through the closed drapes and recognized the flickering light as that cast by flames – she laughed a little derisively, candles? Amateurs. She was still half a block away when the man who could not possibly be Dean but who, deep down, she knew was Dean opened the door carefully. He reached up and pulled at something dangling from the doorjamb. He seemed to shiver a little and tossed it aside before going inside and closing the door quietly.

The guy was good, whoever he was; stealthy but avoiding the whole amateur action hero thing. She slowed a little, letting her heart return to normal and forcing her breathing under control. It didn't take long – one of the perks of being a Slayer was that she could sprint for a mile and within a minute no one would even think she had run anywhere. A horrific scream erupted from inside the house almost spurring her into action instantly – was it Dean? No, that scream had not been human – it had the distinctive tone of a tormented vamp, a sound that the dark part of her soul reveled in. Dean wasn't a vamp, that was one thing she was sure of. In fact, after watching him she was pretty sure she had him figured out. He might not be Council, but he was definitely clued in on the things that went bump in the night.

Faith had her hand on the door handle when the scream abruptly cut off and from the other side of the door she heard someone moving.

She stilled her own movement, and only a vamp was better at that than she was, and waited until she was sure the path was clear.

There was malevolence in the air along with the fetid stench of a swamp – worse even than the streets had been during the worst of the hurricane aftermath – Faith couldn't shake the feeling that if she didn't move now there would be no point.

She opened the door and winced at the creak; she was ducking and rolling even before he turned with a sawn-off shotgun aiming right for her.

"Faith?" He sounded as shocked to see her as she was to confirm it really was him.
"Dean, what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"





Holy crap this place was really screwing with him; there was no way she could have moved that fast. No way in hell. But somehow there she was, right in front of him, pushing the barrel up and away. Dean forced himself to take a deep breath. Too many things going on; too many variables. He needed to end this right now.
"You can't be here," he said quietly, "it's too dangerous. Why don't you head out and I'll be right behind you."
"What, and leave you to deal with the Witch Queen of New Orleans all by yourself? Dream on, hunter. I got your back." She reached down and pulled a wicked-looking knife from her boot as she spoke.
Dean was more than a little taken aback. She knew what he was and why he was here. Did that mean she was a hunter too? He shook his head again in frustration, trying to clear the distraction. "Fine, but let me take the lead, ok?"
She nodded once in tacit agreement. "So what's the plan, stud?"
"Find the altar, destroy the talismans. It should break her spell and then-" Dean stopped as the door flew open and a kid came barreling out into the hall.

As the kid lunged towards him, Dean had just enough time to register it was the same kid he'd seen out on the street earlier in the day and he swore as he swung away from the desperate charge, only to see the kid's elbow heading straight for his head!

Dean ducked quickly, just barely avoiding the blow, and charged towards the kid, tackling him around the middle and rushing him to the ground.

Or at least, that was the plan. The kid seemed to twist in his grip and Dean found himself thrown aside as if he weighed no more than a feather. As he crashed into the wall he thought he saw the woman - Anne Marie - step out into the hall. Any pretence of normality was gone; she no longer looked even vaguely human. Her skin had shrunken back onto her bones giving her the appearance of a walking cadaver but it was her eyes that struck him. They honest-to-god glowed and the last thing Dean saw before he blacked out was her throwing her head back and laughing triumphantly.

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