Work Text:
Faith should've known something was off when she found that beautiful vintage Porsche in an abandoned warehouse, doors unlocked, keys sitting on the driver's seat, practically begging to get stolen. Should've figured it'd be haunted.
It's not a bad kind of haunted, though.
The first time the radio turns on by itself, she doesn't think much of it. She figures she must have had a brain fart and turned it on without realizing it. But then it keeps on happening. Sometimes when she's not even inside the car. Sometimes, Faith swears she can hear someone very softly humming along with the music.
Then there was that memorable occasion when the car started by itself and rammed into a gaggle of vamps who were giving Faith a hard time. On the one hand, it's kind of freaky that the keys don't need to be in the ignition for it to get going. On the other hand, it's nice to never have to fumble for the keys when she's in a hurry, because a door will always open right when she needs it to. It's nice to have someone looking out for her, even if that someone is a ghost. Even a really weird ghost.
The car doesn't give off the kind of deathly chill you'd expect from a haunted thing. It's the opposite, actually; it's always warm on the inside, even when the engine has been off for a while. So warm that most nights Faith doesn't need a blanket when she goes to sleep. It's weird, but she's not complaining.
Living out of a car isn't ideal, obviously, but this weird, haunted Porsche feels safer than any house she's ever been in. She even kind of likes that sometimes she wakes up to the sound of jazz on the radio.