stake | Inbox for saltburnt.

From:

So. How long were you planning on letting a bloke run around looking like a moron with his pants down after a second Slayer entered the arena?

From:

chipped

How'd you feel about looting some tents for liquor with me instead of waiting for Buffy to take you seriously?

From:

cholesterol

( he understands why the hunt went nowhere, why the vampires wanted to take over. and yeah, maybe there's something itching under his skin. it's not the kill he wants. he's not like that, anymore. but the hunt. the help. and he misses his good boy, miracle. he misses a lot. he misses jack.

it's late at night, alone with his thoughts, when he remembers he's good and dead.

car is knocked out next to him. there is a firmly made pillow wall and a whole lot of restlessness about that he can't touch. he feels pretty neutered here.

it's late when he rolls over and pulls his phone out. what was that one chick's name? )

Hey, Jason, you asleep?

From:

cholesterol

I need to talk to you. Alone. By the ice house, near the butcher's... whatever the fuck we called it.

From:

redsoil

I am canvassing to determine my team's opinion of the game of wolves.

Are you a competitive person?
Would you die for someone else, or are you more of a self-preservationist?
When this is over, how will you look back upon the game?

And hello, Faith. Your name is my favorite thing!

From:

angelhunter

Faith, right?

My name is Hap. I'd like to talk to you about what's going on.

From:

bronze

how do you get the alpha to attack you? i'm talking out loud. i think i already know.

From:

chipped

Thanks for sticking up back there, Slayer. I owe you one.

From:

cholesterol

Wei, the not vampire is still gunning for you. He's convinced your wolf killed Homelander as a smokescreen hiding behind Buffy.

From:

angelhunter

I'm sorry.
If not for all the votes wasted on me, we might have stopped you.

From:

bronze

hi

( what to say, actually. buffy saves this invite for last, and yet — she hasn't cooked up a single thing to say to faith. blunt force trauma, buffy thinks, is the best plan she has, )

nov 22nd i'm making a turkey. please come

From:

powerhungry

[ The morning before Faith's first shift at the Hex Club, an envelope finds its way to her door. Inside is a gold pin in the shape of a hexagon, as well as a note: ]

Faith,
Welcome to the Hex Club.
I look forward to working with you.
— Silco

From:

redeems

You don't call, you don't write.

From:

achilles

( they agree to meet, following their texts — less agree, and more that ash instructs and faith just happens to show up, in the bowels of otherworld where these things tend to go down. if you asked ash what, exactly, he thought he was doing, he wouldn't have a clear answer. trying to understand his wife's killer — knowing it wasn't her fault, but blaming her anyway. trying to figure out what justice looks like, when the person who faulted you was unconscious at the time of disturbance, whether it's possible to let bygones be bygones when lives are in question.

ash can be charming, ordinarily. but this isn't a usual situation and he doesn't behave usually, guiding faith to a private room lined with walls of impact devices and cabinets of other naughty things, a st andrew's cross taking up a good portion of the floor space that isn't occupied with a bed, and a few pieces of furniture meant to be bent over and fucked on. inside, ash approaches one wall and eyes the supplies as if observing a painting in a museum, thoughts all scattered on what he wants to do. it isn't like him — he's usually the man with the plan, the man who thinks it all out ahead of time, who knows every move a person makes before they make it. staring, he tries to get his thoughts in order. hurt her, hit her until she cries. fuck her until that mask of hers is gone. figure out who faith is underneath that blase layer of disinterest.

and if there isn't anything else? well. at least he'll know, then. )

I want you to pick a safeword, and tell me if you have any limits. ( he says this, not looking at her. he picks a nasty looking paddle with spikes off the wall and tests it against his hand. ) Then I want you to take your clothes off.

From:

redeems

( late into the month, foot loose and fancy free, angelus catches faith in the christmas village.

he watches from afar of course. her mannerisms, her interactions if there are any. he's a stall over when faith is asked for a good deed in return for whatever wares she's trying to "purchase."

a little while later, in one of the unpopulated squares, angelus sets his foot deliberately down on a cobblestone, letting the sound echo around faith. she needs to know she's not alone, after all. )

From:

aldhani

[he's not even touching that network post, but he does have something he wants to talk to faith about.]

Add Grace le Domas to the list. I was left a drawing of her today, after I was left a drawing of Max about a month ago.

[attached are two photos: one of each drawing.]

Does this fit his pattern?

From:

powerhungry

[ The morning after the Angelus fiasco concludes: ]

Take the day off, if you need it.

From:

kobes

Thank you. For helping.

From:

cholesterol

I bitched out on my offer. The adrenaline doesn't get me going like that anymore.

Wanted to check in, anyway.

From:

begot

[ A few days after things return to (relative) normal, an envelope finds its way to Faith's door, containing a piece of pale blue card stock upon which has been written, in Amy's neat, looping hand: ]

Dear Faith,

I'm sorry it took me so long to reach out. I think I just needed some time to get my thoughts in order. I wanted to write to say thank you. You were there when a complete stranger needed your help. You're tremendously brave — if you weren't, I might not be here to write this to you at all.

— Amy

From:

bronze

angel's back. he's himself now — i know, i know, why would you believe me, i already fell for this act once. but it's him.

( what should i do? she types, doesn't send. what should we do? delete. )

From:

cholesterol

You're invited to Dean Winchester's funeral. Refreshments and a small catering spread will be provided afterward. Prepared remarks and stories are encouraged.

From:

redsoil

Hey there, killer. ♡

Would you do your poor widdle former-victim a solid?