taxonomites | [visual → godric's nest] i roll down the window i'm a sucker for his charm trouble is a friend

... The hell did you do to her? [Dean does not sound happy.]

"...She is injured, but the worst of it is significant blood loss. She's in no danger of dying, and I've done what I can for her, but I was hoping someone might know her and take her home." Godric doesn't look happy either, okay, Dean?

Yeah, well, I know her. You keep your fangs away from her, buddy, I'll be right there. [That could've been a nastier comment, but Dean's noticed the unhappy expression.]

Godric's jaw tightens, but he nods. "I'll let you in when you get here."

Dean is not a fan of dealing with vampires at all. The ones here haven't done anything to really piss Dean off, and he's left them alone mostly because he'd be sorely outnumbered and probably killed. Or at the very least, sucked dry, which isn't on Dean's To-Do list.

When he arrives to the dot on the tablet that led him to Godric and Faith, he approaches it, a machete shoved in the pocket of his coat, just in case.

Edited 2009-10-05 07:33 (UTC)

Godric wasn't the happiest vampire right now. But Eric could probably vie for the title. He's waiting in the open door after Godric presumably told him to wait for whomever was coming to pick Faith up.

And when Dean stalks up to the door, Eric is smiling to beat the band. He's looking a little roughed up, hair a mess and clothes slightly torn, but he's just grinning. It almost turns into a smirk at the sight of the machete, because seriously.

"You here to pick up the donor?" Really, Eric, this amount of happy is enough to creep people out.

Edited 2009-10-05 07:39 (UTC)

Hey, that machete is well hidden, thanks. Or it's supposed to be, unless Eric has X-Ray vision. Either way, Dean's on the defensive, and he's wishing he'd brought Sam, because walking into a house of vamps isn't one of his smarter ideas.

"Donor?" Dean repeats, raising an eyebrow. "... Uh huh. Stop grinning at me, fangface, and take me to your other friend. Y'know, the one that isn't a complete jackass."

He straightens up, but doesn't lose the smile. "Can't help that I'm in such a good mood."

He walks into the house, calling back over his shoulder. "Follow me, then, since you're so bent on business."

Dean ignores that, following Eric. He's a little jumpy, incredibly tense, and his guard way up. Again. Not the smartest idea he's ever had.

He's quiet, ignoring Eric's happy mood and ignoring the fact that he's being reckless (but when is that ever a new one?) and ignoring the fact that he's going to have to carry Faith out of here.

Godric was standing vigil next to Faith's bed when Eric entered with the man who'd responded to his message. He nodded, acknowledging their visitor, and got right down to business.

"Her injuries are mostly superficial. As I said, the worst of it is the blood loss. After some rest and some vitamins, she should be back on her feet." But that didn't mean Godric looked thrilled about it. "Will you need any help getting her home?"

Godric's less-than-thrilled expression probably pales in comparison to Dean's. It's double the anger, too, because not only did Faith have some serious health issues after this whole ordeal, but also because the vampires are probably going to get away with this. That is something that bothers him greatly, especially after years and years of fighting things like them, and winning.

Here, he can't really do a damn thing about it. And it's making him crazy.

"No, I got it, thanks," Dean nearly snarls, and moves to Faith, picking her up. While he still looks angry as hell, he also looks somewhat disturbed. Picking up Faith like this isn't something he ever saw himself doing.

"I can show myself out. Can I trust you not to take a snap at me when my back's turned?" Dean growls out, already heading for the door.

"You won't be harmed," Godric promised as Dean as he gathered Faith and headed out the door.

Dean has retrieved Faith, and is now carrying her to his car, looking irritated with the world. This is not what he wants to be doing, especially not with Faith-- it bothers him to see her pale and sickly like this.

When he arrives back at Bobby's, he takes Faith to Bobby's room, the one on the first floor, and sets her down carefully on the bed. Once she's there, he covers her in blankets, then throws himself rather angrily into the chair by the bed, folding his arms like a pouting five year old.

He's only angry because he's worried.

Dean has to wait for a while. Not as long as a normal human, but long enough.

The first sign she's going to return to the land of the aware soon is a quiet whimper, followed by slight movement. Then a louder whimper, a more obvious twitch. Finally she bolts upright, then immediately drops back down with a harsh cry, clutching her ribs and curling in on herself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, ow, fuck..." The litany is whispered through a dry throat, until the pain is less of a shock to her system. Then she notices the unfamiliar bed, and tenses, trying to sit up again. "The hell..."

It only gives him more time to brood.

When she finally moves, Dean sits straighter, leaning forward. When she makes a louder sound, he shifts out of his chair, and when she finally sits upright Dean nearly knocks over the chair in order to get her to lay down.

"Damn it, Lehane, lay down-- dumbass, you're gonna hurt yourself worse. Fuck, stop it--" Dean growls, trying to get her to lay down.

She's on the defensive until she wakes up fully and calms down; Dean's too big, pressing in on her, and any other time she'd whup his ass before she realized who it was. Faith has a thing about enclosed spaces, about being held down. Just his lucky day she's too hurt to do much about it right now.

She struggles against him, all ineffectual movement and panic sounds. Finally, though, reality seeps in, and she stills.

"Dean?" Her voice is raspy, a little confused. "Thought I was..." She trails off, unwilling-- unable-- to finish the thought. "The hell happened?"

When she does calm down, Dean backs off, dropping his hands and stepping back a bit, shoving them in his jacket pockets instead. Her voice makes Dean cringe internally, but he ignores it, shifting his weight.

"Looks like you either got into a fight with a vamp or nearly got eaten by one," Dean says, and it's clear by his tone he is very irritable at the moment. There's no joking here. Absolutely none. "I don't know the details. Y'wanna fill me in, Princess Xena?"

"Eaten. What--" Faith's voice cracks on 'what', harsh and uncomfortable. She clears her throat, but the rasp won't go away. If her hand shakes a little when she raises it to touch her neck, Dean would do best to ignore it. Her fingers trace puncture wounds, come away bloody.

"I'm gonna kill him." Wincing as her side burns, Faith struggles to sit up. "I'm gonna find him, and I'm gonna kill him." The fact that she couldn't beat Eric before he smacked her down like a normal human is not exactly in the front of her mind.

Edited 2009-10-05 14:57 (UTC)

Dean does notice, and while he doesn't quite ignore it, he doesn't do anything about it either. Instead, he'll settle for a disapproving look. Jeeze, he's turning into a mom. Either way, he's not going to put up with this crap.

"Lay the fuck down." Dean snaps, and he'd move forward to knock her back on her ass if he wasn't afraid of her flailing at him like she did earlier. Instead, he lifts his hands in a threatening manner. Yeah. That'll work. "I'm fucking serious, lay down. I will tie you to the god damned bed."

He's serious. He will. And it will not be in the fun, possibly kinky way, kthx.

Bully for Dean. Because if he had mentioned it, Faith would have tried to get up and leave, and that would just result in the embarrassment of her collapsing on the floor. Nobody wants that.

"Screw you, pretty," Faith snarls, pushing up on arms that burn and tremble with the effort. "You're not the one he had for an afternoon freaking snack, all right?"

She finally gives up on sitting up for the moment, but locks her elbows, refusing to give up the ground she gained. "Try it and I'll take you down." Faith: bitch, please. A week old kitten could do more damage right now.

Dean so does not want to have to scoop Faith off the floor and put her back in her bed. Not only would he be irritated with the fact that she'd cuss the crap out of him, but he doesn't want to have to carry her again. It'd been freaky the first time.

"I don't think you're hearing me." Dean's tone is actually seriously angry. "Not like I haven't been bitten before. It sucks, it makes you weak, and I know you're not gonna admit it because I sure as hell wouldn't, but you can't even walk."

Dean folds his arms instead.

"Go ahead. Try me. Try walking out of this room."

If Dean had to pick her up again, Faith would probably flip. Not like she ever deals well with being reminded she screwed up. And beyond that, it's easier to seem larger than life when someone's not forced to pick her up and feel how small she really is.

"'M not weak," Faith grumbles, face set in petulant lines. Point received, Dean, if not particularly gracefully. "So shut up."

This is where she gives in; stares down at the blankets and bites viciously at the inside of her cheek to keep angry, pained tears inside. Dean can see her weaker than a lot of people. She trusts him, as far as she trusts anyone not Angel. But the hell is he going to see her cry.

"Bitch." But she's settling back into the bed now, stifling a moan when her ribs jostle again.

Neither does Dean, but then again, he is big. His problem is it seems like everything around a foot or so shorter than him can kick his ass. Which is gearing to give him a complex, seriously.

"Yeah, alright," Dean gives in, flopping back into his chair, looking somewhat satisfied. He does watch Faith for a long moment, quiet for once, and doesn't comment, staring in the other direction. Hey, he can be a dick, but he knows how it feels to feel like crap and be unable to do much about it. Avoidance is good, yes?

"Princess." Dean replies, with no real venom, and there might be a little grin on his face.

Edited 2009-10-06 00:53 (UTC)

Faith's used to being able to beat just about anything, if she's not... on a suicide run or something. Eric beat her up, sure, but the biggest dents are to her pride.

"Whatever." Sighing, Faith rolls her eyes and finally looks over at Dean. "You got any water? My throat aches like a freaking mother. That sonuvabitch is a wicked messy eater."

Ah, pride. Another familiar thing to Dean. These two need to stop being each other in alternate universes.

"Yeah, I do. Hold on a sec," and Dean's leaving the room, only to come back with a glass of water a few minutes later. Grinning, Dean jokes: "You sure you can hold it by yourself?"

Oh, bad taste, Dean, don't joke about that. She'll kick your ass.

Don't see it happening anytime soon, but consider the motion under advisement.

"Sweet." Once Dean leaves the room, Faith allows herself to sag into the bed, then lifts up her shirt to check out the damage. "Sweet Jesus." The bruising on her torso is leaning towards the gruesome side of really freaking ugly, and she pokes at it with one finger, then winces and lowers her shirt. Great, just great.

"Gimme the water, Winchester, or you're going down."

But the threat is good natured.

That's a motion that'll never see the light of day again.

He does hand her the water though, watching for a second more (though he's not sure why, he knows she wouldn't let him help her, and he probably wouldn't make the move to, either) before flopping back into the chair, giving a small sigh. Man. He's tired now.

"Bastards shouldn't be able to get away with this, y'know," Dean remarks, sprawling all over the chair.

Rendered DOA in committee. Shame, that.

She slugs down the water as fast as she can, grimacing when her throat pulls in a seriously unpleasant way.

"No arguments here. Freaking cheaters."

"What did you do to her?"

Buffy's voice is actually surprisingly cold and calm, but that's probably one of the worst signs of anger, coming from her. Her eyes do have that 'I'm going to chop somebody in half for this' look to them, however.

This is probably just after Dean has already said he's going to pick Faith up, so she'll in all likelihood be heading over to Bobby's shortly. In the meantime however, she has questions. Questions and rage!

Godric pinched the bridge of his nose, looking a little ragged despite his newly flushed skin.

"She very foolishly agreed to fight my child, and he used the opportunity to bring her here to...convince me to feed." There was a subtle but distinct growl in his tone at the word 'convince', so he was obviously still a little sore at Eric.

"I'm afraid, after having gone so long without blood, my control was less than perfect. I've done what I know how to help her, but she'll need some time to fully recover."

"How sweet of you." She replied icily, far from convinced by what she saw as flimsy excuses. She doubted Faith agreed to be beaten up like that, and she doubted that Godric took much 'convincing' too. She didn't have time to get into an argument however- she pretty much just wanted to know who she was going to stake for it.

"Your 'child', that'd be Eric, right?"

~~However did you guess, Buffy?~~ Godric considered Buffy for a moment. He could see clearly that this was probably going to turn into a headache, and there wasn't much to be done about it.

"Yes. But this is my fault as much as his." Eric would more than likely have baited the Slayer into a fight eventually anyway, but she'd have much more blood left if not for Godric. "I'd apologize to your friend directly, but she's in no state to appreciate it, at the moment."

~~Through a complex process of elimination that took like two seconds.~~ Buffy didn't know if Godric genuinely meant well, or if he was actively trying to piss her off with the irony of the sentiment. Either way, she didn't much care and she wanted to get to Faith as soon as possible.

"Yeah, well I'll convey your heartfelt sympathies when she's conscious." She answered, trying to contain her temper, as she hit the 'off' button on the tablet.

It hadn't taken Buffy long to figure out where Dean would've taken Faith-- there were limited options, after all. His principal haunts tended to be either the Impala (not great for tending the injured), her own house (he wasn't there, obviously), the Bronze (just... inappropriate) or the place where he lived, which she easily located after a minute or two of map-scanning, even if she'd never visited.

So here she is now, (looking pissed as hell by the way) knocking on the door and calling "Dean? Faith? It's me."

It's true, none of the places above are places Dean would take Faith, and Buffy guessed correctly at where they are. When Dean answers the door, he looks just as pissed off as Buffy does, and there may be signs of Dean having broken things in the house. Dean does not deal with anger well.

He doesn't say anything, just opens the door and moves out of the way, gripping the door entirely too hard.

That's okay, because Buffy isn't feeling all that conversational at the moment either. She steps inside, noting the traces of breakages without comment- she can relate to that particular coping strategy.

She'll wait for him to lead the way to Faith of course, not being familiar with the layout of the house.

When she's inside, he leads her up the stairs without a word, into the room he left Faith, and practically flings himself into the chair in the corner of the room, biting his tongue and watching.

Faith's thought process after Buffy shows up is pretty much: Well, shit.

If there was anyone she didn't want to see this in person, it's Buffy. Looking stupid and weak around her is a blast from the seriously unwelcome past. But hey, she's kind of stuck here, so Faith plasters a smirk on and sits up again, ignoring Dean's DID I NOT TELL YOU TO STAY DOWN expression.

"Sup, B? Didn't need to come all this way, I'm five by five. Gonna get some sleep and then book. I got places to go, vamps to kill."

Oh, Buffy is by no means unaware of the huge irony of this whole scenario- after all, it's not as though she hasn't done worse damage to Faith herself, in the past. She has enough regrets on that score to fill a book, but there doesn't seem to be much sense in dwelling on it now.

Her mouth is set in a thin line, and her face is pretty much one big concerned frown as she moves to stand next to the side of the bed, scanning over Faith's very visible (and abundant) injuries and trying not to wince in sympathy. "Faith, I've seen roadkill that looked more five by five than you. Lie down, please."

...she said please, and that was a concession for her.

Yeah, the whole knife in the gut, coma deal kind of makes this funny, in a sick way. Still, as much as Faith will never ever admit it-- even to herself-- Buffy's concern is appreciated.

"Gee, thanks B. I'm feeling real boosted, here." But she lays back, albeit with a few grumbles and winces nobody better mention. "Winchester, quit bitchfacing at me, I laid back down. Jesus." She sees you in the background cranky-facing, Dean.

Once her ribs stop screaming, Faith looks back up at Buffy, suddenly serious. "Look, yell at me, whatever. But this vamp is bad news, B. He tossed me around like a freaking piece of tissue paper. And he flew." Now her face just looks disgruntled. "Freaking cheater. I said I'd throw down, not be his damn chewtoy."

"You'd prefer I lie and say you look great?" She asks, with a raised skeptical eyebrow, though not all that harshly-- she's somewhat mollified by the fact that Faith had the good sense to lie back down, at least.

"Yeah, I got that memo already." She says, rather pointedly, regarding the Eric being bad news observation, then sighs in a way that verges on clucking/motherly... which must be weird. "I'm not gonna yell at you, Faith, but what were you thinking? It's obvious he's not from our world, you should've known he could have powers we wouldn't-- wait, he flew?"

"What, you saying I don't, B?" Good sign: she's alert enough to be cracking wise. Bad sign: she's alert enough to be cracking wise. Buffy, it might be wise to tell Dean to drug her to hell and back.

"Hey, nobody shared that intel with me. I figured he was business as usual, do a quick throw down, maybe break a bone or two, no big. Nobody told me he was juiced up like that." Not gonna lie, the vibe is new and weird. Not entirely unwelcome, considering Faith was thinking she was about to get royally reamed out. "Like I said, man. Freaking whoosh, and he was over my head and outta reach."

She doesn't dignify that with anything other than one of her pursed-lips 'really now' looks, you know the kind. And she will certainly be telling Dean to make generous with the sedatives, no worries at all.

As for Buffy not giving Faith a (sort of) deserved chewing out, she can't really see the point. The injuries are probably enough of a lesson in themselves, and besides-- Faith isn't some rookie. They're equals. Okay, maybe not right now, after Faith has just engaged in some high-class stupidity, but in general terms that's how Buffy sees her, even if back home she has this elevated 'General' role. That's not the case here in Taxon.

"Yeah, well next time you decide to 'throw down' and end up looking like an Extreme Makeover post-op, could you give me a call first?" And that's about as much telling off as she'll do, for now. This information on Eric is decidedly worrying.

"Well that's different. Almost Drac-esque." A pause, before she mutters, mostly to herself. "Gonna have to pull out all the stops on this one."

[visual → godric's nest] i roll down the window i'm a sucker for his charm trouble is a friend

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