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28/5/11 21:36![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
telarynTitle: Sacrifices
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telaryn
Word Count: 2317
Fandom: SPN/BTVS
Characters: Faith/Dean, Faith/John Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Older man, younger woman sex, voyeurism (as implied by the prompt).
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: John Winchester loses his heart to a certain dark-haired Slayer. Shortly afterwards, he finds he's not the only Winchester with a taste for what Faith has to offer.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
angst_bingo, for the prompt "voyeurism". This was a challenging story to write. I'm not used to seeing voyeurism as something that generates angst, and given the players I chose to tell the story, I was constantly on watch that it not cross the line from angsty to creepy.
I hope I succeeded.
The last time they'd seen each other, he'd fucked her up against the side of his truck; her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he pressed her back against the black metal body of the cab. She was hot, wet velvet crushed around his dick, and as he came inside her John Winchester knew he'd met a perfect match to the man he'd become.
“I want to see you again,” he whispered hoarsely, combing his fingers through the tangle of her sweat-soaked hair. “Some place not so bloody next time.” She'd helped him take out a pack of shapeshifters this trip, and the evidence would be with both of them until they had a chance to shower.
Faith smiled up at him, her dark eyes shining in the dim moonlight. “Not a hearts and flowers kind of girl, Eric.” She tensed, pulling him in even closer to her; his half-hard cock twitched inside her pussy. “And do me a favor. Don't move yet.”
She managed to successfully coax him into another round of fucking, and ended up leaving before John could find the words to explain that his desire for a hearts and flowers kind of relationship had burned to death two decades earlier on the ceiling of a nursery in Kansas.
****************
The call from Dean came about two weeks after John and Faith had parted company. “It's a ghoul nest,” his son said. “I can get somebody else to work it with me if you're busy.”
“No...no...” John said, grabbing a pen and a fast food bag. “It's good. Where're you at?” He wrote down the instructions Dean gave him and promised to meet his son by week's end.
John realized that he felt lighter – more energized – as he hung up with Dean and started packing the truck. He'd started to wallow in the memory of making a fool of himself with a woman half his age. The prospect of a hunt, even something as easy as a nest of ghouls, was exactly what he needed to get himself going again.
He arrived in Oklahoma late on Thursday. The motel Dean had directed him to was just off the interstate – after confirming that the Impala was in the parking lot, and the alias Dean had given him was checked in, John handed over a credit card that hadn't been shut down yet and got a room of his own on the same hallway. He'd learned the hard way about a year earlier that his oldest son was what John's mother used to call a “rounder”. Ever since that time they'd gotten separate rooms, with a decent buffer between them.
His call to Dean letting him know he'd arrived went straight to voicemail. Unconcerned, John took the opportunity to go through his own ritual of settling into a new place. A line of salt was laid down at the window, and a Devil's Trap chalked on the floor at the door. Protective charms were hung in the window, over the mirrors and at every source of water in the bathrooms. Once he was as metaphysically secure as he could reasonably make himself, John grabbed his duffel and started unpacking his clothes.
The whole process took about an hour; when Dean hadn't returned his call at the end of that time, John shrugged his army jacket on over his shoulder holster and went down to his son's room. Light shown through the curtains, and John heard voices inside the room. A thin break in the curtain fabric showed movement in the room; he paused to check it out.
Dean was inside, shirtless and barefoot, clad only in a ragged pair of jeans. He had a half-naked girl pushed up against the wall, and was kissing her with interest.
Grinning slightly in embarrassment, John started to move away, give them privacy – then froze. He couldn't see much of the girl around Dean, but those flashes of her body he could see pulled at half-formed memories. He knew the girl, or knew what she was. Whatever it was, John suddenly knew he couldn't leave her alone with his son.
Leaning against the window, he drew his pistol, keeping it low against his thigh in order not to panic random passers-by. You're being paranoid, he thought, looking through the window again. Not to mention it was more than a little creepy watching his son put the moves on a girl.
Can't be helped, he thought, shifting position slightly in an attempt to gain a better vantage point. He'd suffer a little embarrassment if it meant saving Dean from some sort of succubus or vampire attack.
After a few minutes Dean lowered his head to his partner's breast, finally bringing her face into view. John's eyes widened as he realized where he knew the woman from. Faith. His son was having sex with the woman John had wanted for himself. Horrified, he stumbled back from the window – holstering his gun by reflex.
All things being equal, he would have preferred the succubus.
****************************
Once he'd reached the safety of his own room, John sent two text messages – one to Dean, the other to Faith. Each of them said the same thing, summoning the recipient to his room as soon as possible. That finished, he poured himself a slug of whiskey and waited.
Thirty minutes and half a bottle later, there was a knock on the door. “It's open!” he called.
The door pushed open. Faith came in first – her expression open and obviously pleased to see him. “Hey you,” she grinned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She was halfway to him, when John looked past her at his son. Dean's expression was carved from stone. I didn't raise a fool, John thought, sighing inwardly as Dean said, “Hey, Dad.”
Faith froze; the excitement in her eyes on seeing him melted away, leaving nothing but confusion in its wake. “Dad?” she asked, looking at Dean for confirmation. “You said your Dad's name was John..?”
Dean never took his eyes off his father. “John. Eric. Winchester.” He spat each of John's names off his tongue like a curse. “Dad? I guess you and Faith have met already.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited for John to reply.
“Yeah,” Faith said. She was staring at him again, clearly stunned. “We've met. You didn't tell me you had kids, Eric.” There was more venom in the way she said the name he'd given her than John would have thought possible.
“Two,” John said quietly, his focus still on Dean. “Son, would you wait outside for a minute? I need to talk to Faith. Alone.”
“You okay with that, Faith?” Dean asked – not taking his eyes off his father. John was patient and let him ask, never doubting that Dean would do as he wanted in the end. It was a hard situation for both of them to be in, but John knew he could make things right once he got Faith out of the way.
“Yeah, fine,” Faith snarled. “I got a few things to say to Daddy here that're probably best said in private.”
John had no doubt about that.
****************************
“You should have told me you were into the whole 'Daddy' thing,” Faith said, once they were alone. The smile she gave him was a bitter echo of the flirtatious grin he was used to. She shrugged, rolling her hips suggestively as she turned to face him. “Not the worst thing a guy's ever asked me to do.”
“Enough,” John said sharply, trying desperately to ignore his body's more visceral reaction to Faith's presence. “I'm going to keep this short. I want you gone. You and I are done, and you're not going to see Dean again.”
Faith's dark eyes flashed, and for a second John saw the woman who had killed shapeshifters, werewolves, and any number of monsters fighting at his side. “Pretty good at giving orders there, Johnny boy.” Her smile this time wasn't friendly at all. “Too bad I suck at taking them.”
“Not giving orders,” John said, standing his ground. “Just stating a fact. You don't really think I can hunt with you, or...” The words died in his throat. Annoyed, he forced himself to go on. “Not under these circumstances.”
“First,” Faith said, holding up a finger, “the word you're looking for is fucking. You and I hunt and we fuck. Second?” Another finger. “You really need to stop acting like you're calling the shots. I've got any number of guys out there younger than you, stronger than you.” She paused, and her expression hardened. “I've even got one standing right outside. I don't need you.”
He didn't make a conscious decision to attack Faith. One second they were squared off – the next second John had her by the shoulders and was shoving her into the wall. Faith reacted immediately, knocking his hands off her and following up with a right cross that snapped his head painfully to the side. Thrown off balance, John managed to steady himself against the table. “Don't do that,” she snarled. “I will hand you your ass.”
He didn't want to do this. God help him, he still had feelings for her. He wanted nothing more than to wish away the previous few hours – forget everything he'd seen. He wanted to go back to a time when the worst thing he had to worry about was making a fool of himself for this woman.
“You stay away from my son,” he said, straightening up and looking Faith in the eyes again. “Dean is off limits to the likes of you.”
“The likes of me?” Faith asked, eyes blazing hot. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You're different than the girls my son usually hooks up with,” John said calmly. The words came easily to him now, born of conviction bred bone-deep. “Dean could lose his heart to someone like you – and I want better than that for him.”
Faith looked as though he'd slapped her. “You didn't seem to have a problem with me when we were the ones fucking each other blind.”
“That's different,” John said. “I'm trapped in this life, same as you. There's nothing left in the normal world for me.” He glanced down, then met her eyes again. “Dean – Sam too – deserves better than this. Better than you.”
“Classy,” Faith hissed, glaring at him. “You're a real piece of shit, you know that?”
Now it was John's turn to shrug. “Actually I do. I also know that even though you can hand me my ass as you put it, I will do whatever I have to in order to keep you away from my son.”
********************************
As soon as Faith was gone, John returned to his whiskey bottle and poured himself a full glass. Squaring off with Faith was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do – turning his back on somebody he still believed he could have a future with.
He knew he would do it and more if it meant Dean could someday have a future of his own away from all of this.
Halfway through his thid glass, the door opened again. This time it was Dean who walked in. “Gotta say, Dad, this is not a situation I ever expected to find us in.”
“It's done,” John said, tossing off the last of his whiskey. “Tell me about the nest.”
It was a gamble, but John had to see if it was possible to avoid having this conversation altogether. He knew the stubborn set of Dean's jaw however – his son rarely defied him, but when he chose to draw a line in the sand he looked so much like his mother John wanted to die. “Oh no, Dad,” he said. “You're not getting off that easy.” He walked to the desk and picked up a glass of his own. “You at least have to tell me which one of us gets to keep seeing her.”
“Neither of us,” John said. He didn't resist as Dean took the whiskey bottle from him and emptied it into his own glass. “It's best you forget about her, son. She's not right for you.”
Dean froze with the glass halfway to his lips. “You told her that?”
“I told her the truth,” John said. “Dean, she's never going to leave this life. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of life your mother always wanted for you.”
Gaping at him, Dean finally lowered his glass. “I hope your pool hustling skills are sharp, Dad, because you're going to be paying my therapy bills until you're eighty at this rate. Are you seriously talking like I'm going to have a normal life someday? House? Picket Fence? Wife and 2.5 kids kind of normal life?”
Hearing it stated so bluntly that the search for Mary's killer had gone on too long, that John had failed in one more thing, was a blow he hadn't been prepared for. “Dean...”
His son drained his glass in a single swallow, and set the glass down with a resounding thump. “The same normal life that got Sam exiled from this family?” He shook his head. “I'm sorry Dad, but this isn't a call you get to make. Not this time.” Stalking to the door, he jerked it open and left the room; slamming the door behind him.
Author:
telarynWord Count: 2317
Fandom: SPN/BTVS
Characters: Faith/Dean, Faith/John Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Older man, younger woman sex, voyeurism (as implied by the prompt).
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: John Winchester loses his heart to a certain dark-haired Slayer. Shortly afterwards, he finds he's not the only Winchester with a taste for what Faith has to offer.
Author's Note: Written for
angst_bingo, for the prompt "voyeurism". This was a challenging story to write. I'm not used to seeing voyeurism as something that generates angst, and given the players I chose to tell the story, I was constantly on watch that it not cross the line from angsty to creepy.I hope I succeeded.
The last time they'd seen each other, he'd fucked her up against the side of his truck; her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he pressed her back against the black metal body of the cab. She was hot, wet velvet crushed around his dick, and as he came inside her John Winchester knew he'd met a perfect match to the man he'd become.
“I want to see you again,” he whispered hoarsely, combing his fingers through the tangle of her sweat-soaked hair. “Some place not so bloody next time.” She'd helped him take out a pack of shapeshifters this trip, and the evidence would be with both of them until they had a chance to shower.
Faith smiled up at him, her dark eyes shining in the dim moonlight. “Not a hearts and flowers kind of girl, Eric.” She tensed, pulling him in even closer to her; his half-hard cock twitched inside her pussy. “And do me a favor. Don't move yet.”
She managed to successfully coax him into another round of fucking, and ended up leaving before John could find the words to explain that his desire for a hearts and flowers kind of relationship had burned to death two decades earlier on the ceiling of a nursery in Kansas.
****************
The call from Dean came about two weeks after John and Faith had parted company. “It's a ghoul nest,” his son said. “I can get somebody else to work it with me if you're busy.”
“No...no...” John said, grabbing a pen and a fast food bag. “It's good. Where're you at?” He wrote down the instructions Dean gave him and promised to meet his son by week's end.
John realized that he felt lighter – more energized – as he hung up with Dean and started packing the truck. He'd started to wallow in the memory of making a fool of himself with a woman half his age. The prospect of a hunt, even something as easy as a nest of ghouls, was exactly what he needed to get himself going again.
He arrived in Oklahoma late on Thursday. The motel Dean had directed him to was just off the interstate – after confirming that the Impala was in the parking lot, and the alias Dean had given him was checked in, John handed over a credit card that hadn't been shut down yet and got a room of his own on the same hallway. He'd learned the hard way about a year earlier that his oldest son was what John's mother used to call a “rounder”. Ever since that time they'd gotten separate rooms, with a decent buffer between them.
His call to Dean letting him know he'd arrived went straight to voicemail. Unconcerned, John took the opportunity to go through his own ritual of settling into a new place. A line of salt was laid down at the window, and a Devil's Trap chalked on the floor at the door. Protective charms were hung in the window, over the mirrors and at every source of water in the bathrooms. Once he was as metaphysically secure as he could reasonably make himself, John grabbed his duffel and started unpacking his clothes.
The whole process took about an hour; when Dean hadn't returned his call at the end of that time, John shrugged his army jacket on over his shoulder holster and went down to his son's room. Light shown through the curtains, and John heard voices inside the room. A thin break in the curtain fabric showed movement in the room; he paused to check it out.
Dean was inside, shirtless and barefoot, clad only in a ragged pair of jeans. He had a half-naked girl pushed up against the wall, and was kissing her with interest.
Grinning slightly in embarrassment, John started to move away, give them privacy – then froze. He couldn't see much of the girl around Dean, but those flashes of her body he could see pulled at half-formed memories. He knew the girl, or knew what she was. Whatever it was, John suddenly knew he couldn't leave her alone with his son.
Leaning against the window, he drew his pistol, keeping it low against his thigh in order not to panic random passers-by. You're being paranoid, he thought, looking through the window again. Not to mention it was more than a little creepy watching his son put the moves on a girl.
Can't be helped, he thought, shifting position slightly in an attempt to gain a better vantage point. He'd suffer a little embarrassment if it meant saving Dean from some sort of succubus or vampire attack.
After a few minutes Dean lowered his head to his partner's breast, finally bringing her face into view. John's eyes widened as he realized where he knew the woman from. Faith. His son was having sex with the woman John had wanted for himself. Horrified, he stumbled back from the window – holstering his gun by reflex.
All things being equal, he would have preferred the succubus.
****************************
Once he'd reached the safety of his own room, John sent two text messages – one to Dean, the other to Faith. Each of them said the same thing, summoning the recipient to his room as soon as possible. That finished, he poured himself a slug of whiskey and waited.
Thirty minutes and half a bottle later, there was a knock on the door. “It's open!” he called.
The door pushed open. Faith came in first – her expression open and obviously pleased to see him. “Hey you,” she grinned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She was halfway to him, when John looked past her at his son. Dean's expression was carved from stone. I didn't raise a fool, John thought, sighing inwardly as Dean said, “Hey, Dad.”
Faith froze; the excitement in her eyes on seeing him melted away, leaving nothing but confusion in its wake. “Dad?” she asked, looking at Dean for confirmation. “You said your Dad's name was John..?”
Dean never took his eyes off his father. “John. Eric. Winchester.” He spat each of John's names off his tongue like a curse. “Dad? I guess you and Faith have met already.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited for John to reply.
“Yeah,” Faith said. She was staring at him again, clearly stunned. “We've met. You didn't tell me you had kids, Eric.” There was more venom in the way she said the name he'd given her than John would have thought possible.
“Two,” John said quietly, his focus still on Dean. “Son, would you wait outside for a minute? I need to talk to Faith. Alone.”
“You okay with that, Faith?” Dean asked – not taking his eyes off his father. John was patient and let him ask, never doubting that Dean would do as he wanted in the end. It was a hard situation for both of them to be in, but John knew he could make things right once he got Faith out of the way.
“Yeah, fine,” Faith snarled. “I got a few things to say to Daddy here that're probably best said in private.”
John had no doubt about that.
****************************
“You should have told me you were into the whole 'Daddy' thing,” Faith said, once they were alone. The smile she gave him was a bitter echo of the flirtatious grin he was used to. She shrugged, rolling her hips suggestively as she turned to face him. “Not the worst thing a guy's ever asked me to do.”
“Enough,” John said sharply, trying desperately to ignore his body's more visceral reaction to Faith's presence. “I'm going to keep this short. I want you gone. You and I are done, and you're not going to see Dean again.”
Faith's dark eyes flashed, and for a second John saw the woman who had killed shapeshifters, werewolves, and any number of monsters fighting at his side. “Pretty good at giving orders there, Johnny boy.” Her smile this time wasn't friendly at all. “Too bad I suck at taking them.”
“Not giving orders,” John said, standing his ground. “Just stating a fact. You don't really think I can hunt with you, or...” The words died in his throat. Annoyed, he forced himself to go on. “Not under these circumstances.”
“First,” Faith said, holding up a finger, “the word you're looking for is fucking. You and I hunt and we fuck. Second?” Another finger. “You really need to stop acting like you're calling the shots. I've got any number of guys out there younger than you, stronger than you.” She paused, and her expression hardened. “I've even got one standing right outside. I don't need you.”
He didn't make a conscious decision to attack Faith. One second they were squared off – the next second John had her by the shoulders and was shoving her into the wall. Faith reacted immediately, knocking his hands off her and following up with a right cross that snapped his head painfully to the side. Thrown off balance, John managed to steady himself against the table. “Don't do that,” she snarled. “I will hand you your ass.”
He didn't want to do this. God help him, he still had feelings for her. He wanted nothing more than to wish away the previous few hours – forget everything he'd seen. He wanted to go back to a time when the worst thing he had to worry about was making a fool of himself for this woman.
“You stay away from my son,” he said, straightening up and looking Faith in the eyes again. “Dean is off limits to the likes of you.”
“The likes of me?” Faith asked, eyes blazing hot. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You're different than the girls my son usually hooks up with,” John said calmly. The words came easily to him now, born of conviction bred bone-deep. “Dean could lose his heart to someone like you – and I want better than that for him.”
Faith looked as though he'd slapped her. “You didn't seem to have a problem with me when we were the ones fucking each other blind.”
“That's different,” John said. “I'm trapped in this life, same as you. There's nothing left in the normal world for me.” He glanced down, then met her eyes again. “Dean – Sam too – deserves better than this. Better than you.”
“Classy,” Faith hissed, glaring at him. “You're a real piece of shit, you know that?”
Now it was John's turn to shrug. “Actually I do. I also know that even though you can hand me my ass as you put it, I will do whatever I have to in order to keep you away from my son.”
********************************
As soon as Faith was gone, John returned to his whiskey bottle and poured himself a full glass. Squaring off with Faith was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do – turning his back on somebody he still believed he could have a future with.
He knew he would do it and more if it meant Dean could someday have a future of his own away from all of this.
Halfway through his thid glass, the door opened again. This time it was Dean who walked in. “Gotta say, Dad, this is not a situation I ever expected to find us in.”
“It's done,” John said, tossing off the last of his whiskey. “Tell me about the nest.”
It was a gamble, but John had to see if it was possible to avoid having this conversation altogether. He knew the stubborn set of Dean's jaw however – his son rarely defied him, but when he chose to draw a line in the sand he looked so much like his mother John wanted to die. “Oh no, Dad,” he said. “You're not getting off that easy.” He walked to the desk and picked up a glass of his own. “You at least have to tell me which one of us gets to keep seeing her.”
“Neither of us,” John said. He didn't resist as Dean took the whiskey bottle from him and emptied it into his own glass. “It's best you forget about her, son. She's not right for you.”
Dean froze with the glass halfway to his lips. “You told her that?”
“I told her the truth,” John said. “Dean, she's never going to leave this life. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of life your mother always wanted for you.”
Gaping at him, Dean finally lowered his glass. “I hope your pool hustling skills are sharp, Dad, because you're going to be paying my therapy bills until you're eighty at this rate. Are you seriously talking like I'm going to have a normal life someday? House? Picket Fence? Wife and 2.5 kids kind of normal life?”
Hearing it stated so bluntly that the search for Mary's killer had gone on too long, that John had failed in one more thing, was a blow he hadn't been prepared for. “Dean...”
His son drained his glass in a single swallow, and set the glass down with a resounding thump. “The same normal life that got Sam exiled from this family?” He shook his head. “I'm sorry Dad, but this isn't a call you get to make. Not this time.” Stalking to the door, he jerked it open and left the room; slamming the door behind him.
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2/6/11 13:37 (UTC)I love it honey! Good job with a tricky prompt!