Which I Did
Title: Which I Did
Author: Juniper
email: juniper1@chickmail.com
Summary: After Faith kills Mr Trick in 'Consequences,' she and Buffy have some...issues to work out.
Rating: NC-17. Not all that graphic, but smutty nonetheless. F/B
Disclaimer: They belong to Joss and whoever else. I'm just trying to fill in a hole.
Distribution: Hey, you want it, I'm flattered. Just let me know first.
Notes: First in my Faithseries. In the little universe that is Juniper's head, Faith is merely sorely misunderstood, and simply has to make Buffy see the error of her own (Buffy's) judgemental ways.
Notes (part 2): Song lyrics at beginning from ani difranco's 'Adam and Eve.' Poem excerpt from 'Le Jardin,' by Jacques Prevert.
Feedback: Even if you hate the fic, I'd love to know why.
**********
< I did not design this game
I did not name the stakes
I just happen to like apples
And I am not afraid of snakes >
***********
See, the thing is, I don't even know what I'm doing here. Yeah, I've gotta get out. Things are a mess and I've gotta get out. But I don't think I can, and not only because I can see her coming.
Strolling towards me with so much confident force she could claim to own the world and no one would know the difference.
//Can't you see I just wanna own it with you?//
That's exactly the problem, right there. She doesn't wanna own it with me. She doesn't want me here. Fine, whatever. But she doesn't want me gone, either. She doesn't want *me.* She wants me to be *not-me* and she's just gonna have to see I'm not down with that.
So when she passes under the gangplank to my left I have to speak, like I can't hold back, and even I can here the bitterness //Is that a flicker of hope, Faithy dear?// in my voice. "You don't give up, do you?"
She turns, looks up at me with those big wide //beautiful// determined eyes. "Not on my friends, no."
"Yeah, because you and me are such solid buds, right?" If only the answer were yes...
"We could be. It's not too late." Like an exhausted mom, trying to placate a fucking kid.
I've moved halfway down the gangplank, but I stop, stare, letting her know that *I* know, I know what she's trying to do. "For me to change and be more like you, you mean? Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes? It ain't gonna happen, B."
"Faith, nobody is asking you to be like me, but you can't go on like this."
I just know the look on my face could only be described as a cocky smirk. //Why the *fuck* am I doing this? With *her?*// "Scares you, doesn't it?"
I climb over the rail, both wanting to be down, where she is, and just down. Like lately, I'm always floating in this little place above me, detached, wondering when I get control of my body (my mind) again.
"Yeah, it scares me. Faith, you're hurting people. You're hurting *yourself.*"
//Nice, B. Slip in that afterthought. Try to make me believe you give a damn..//
"But that's not it. That's not what bothers you so much. What bugs you is you know I'm right. You know in your gut we don't need the law. We *are* the law."
It's the difference between us, see. She slays to protect, to nurture all the fucking crap that shit-faces like Wesley say needs to be upheld. I slay to kill. I slay to win. Anything else is just in the way.
But she just won't have it. She hardens and snaps out, "No." Guess I struck a chord, 'cause there she goes, walking away.
//Why does everyone always walk away from me?//
I can't let her go. I have to follow. I suddenly know I have to salvage this, but damned if I know how. All I know is to keep at her, make her see how it is. "Yes. You know exactly what I'm about 'cause you have it in you, too."
//Please, B? Have it in you, too? 'Cause if you have itmaybe it ain't so bad.//
"No, Faith, you're sick."
Funny how this is sounding like the last conversation I had with Mama. Even funnier how I'm lashing out the same way, saying all the wrong things to get her to care. "I've seen it, B. You've got the lust. And I'm not just talking about screwing vampires."
//Fuck fuck fuck why did I say that why am I trying so hard to drive her away for good?//
But I've got her. She stops cold, fury flashing in those eyes. Can't get enough of those eyes.
"Don't you *dare* bring him into this."
Something so beautiful about the danger in her voice - "It was good, wasn't it? The sex? The danger? Bet a part of you even dug it when he went psycho."
But there she goes again. "No!"
Shit. "See, you need me to toe the line because you're afraid you'll go over it, aren't you, B? You can't handle watching me livin' my own way, having a blast, because it tempts you! You know it could *be* you!"
Son-of-a- - she actually hit me. I can't believe she actually hit me. All I can do is smile, so incredibly...pleased. 'Cause I can see it, so clearly, so amazingly brilliant, etched all over her like I know it should be. "There's my girl."
//Stop walking away, dammit!// "No. I'm not gonna do this."
"Why not? It feels good. Blood rising..."
And everything suddenly goes to hell. B, she pushes me, and the crates that should have been on my back are on hers. Before I can help her they're all over me, three vamps and then that fucker Trick. They get me down once, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let it happen again.
Sometimes I love how fast it goes, how slaying is this sudden burst of *wild* and then it's me or them. So one goes in the water and I have to concentrate on the others, but hell, if I didn't have to concentrate how could I remember the look on their faces when I stake 'em? 'Cause that's exactly what I do. Put one in a barrel and hit the other in his sweet spot, and the only thing waiting for Bucket-head when he gets out is the exact same thing.
Gotta love the feel of dust flying in your face. Like when I headed up to the Badlands on my way to Sunnydale...that was before all this mess started. I'd love to go back there - B. Where is she?
Trick has her, a cord around her neck, jerking her around like a puppy. And I hesitate. He's gonna kill her, I know that. What I don't know is if I can stop him. If I can hurry on over to save her and let her at me again.
It would be so nice to let her die, get her off my case...
But that's just the thing. Deep down, I gotta figure she keeps at me because maybe she does care after all, cause maybe I fall under the category of People Buffy Feels She Has To Protect To Fulfil Her Destiny.
Whatever. Trick's been on my nerves since long he helped Caquistos find me. Besides, the fucker doesn't even have the decency to shut up while he's ripping your throat out. Always with the talking: "I hear once you've tasted a Slayer, you never wanna go back." So yeah, he definitely gets to be intimate with my stake. Can't even shut up then. "Oh, no. No, this is no good at all."
So he's gone, and I can see her again, rubbing her neck. //Don't, Faith. Don't think of how the red sets off the cream of her skin. Don't think -//
No. Not thinking is what got me so deep in the first place. I'm gonna think; I'm gonna think real long and hard. About taking her hand, which I do. About tugging her forward, into the curve of my arm, which I do. About leading her away, towards home, away from the wreckage of the fight and our relationship.
Time to rebuild. I just don't know how.
All I can do is murmur, "There's one I didn't stake. He gets word to the mayor -"
She nods, comes with me, and soon we're within the safety of my motel room. Suddenly it's like everything is put on hold; all we do is stare for a few minutes. It feels like an eternity is stretching within the few inches we have between us, but then she opens her mouth.
Nothing has ever been more clear to me in my life than the fact that I don't want to argue anymore is right now. I read this poem once and found someone to translate, 'cause it just sounded like it meant something that was wholly beautiful. Now these lines are popping into my mind.
< ...La petite second d'eternite / Ou tu m'as embrasse / Ou je t'ai embrassee... >
//...The tiny second of eternity / When you kissed me / When I kissed you...//
That's all the cue I need, just a little mental kick. All I have to do is lean forward a bit and I'm there, covering her mouth with mine, easing my tongue against her lips and praying she'll let me in and when she does all I can do is sigh right into her.
There's something so incredibly lazy about being in the here and now, living this moment to for all it's worth. And it's worth so much more than I could ever imagine...We're not touching besides our lips, yet somehow we're entangled so thoroughly I can't quite believe I'm able to pull back.
But I do. She's here, after all I did, after I blamed her and attacked Xander. She's here, *letting* me, and I have the fucking *nerve* to pull away.
Always gotta be a challenge. Mama always said I wasn't the brightest of children...
I pull away, settle back on my heels and press my hand flat against her chest. "Your court, B. Right there."
She blinks, her eyes suddenly dimming to deep liquid pools of fiery passion. She takes my hand in both of hers and brings my fingers to her lips to kiss the tips of each one, all the while kneading with her thumb. //Never knew my palm could be an erogenous zone.//
Finished, she lets go and my hang swings down to my side. "Game point, Faith," she purrs. "Watcha gonna do?"
I can feel the wicked smile easing across my face as I clasp my hands behind my back and lean in for another kiss. Again, only our lips are connected but I'm drowning in her, surrounded by her warmth and I know one of us needs to do something soon or this will become unbearable.
I make the first move; it must be me because here I am on top of her, pinning her to my mattress and kissing licking rubbing her everywhere. I'm suckling on her neck and I suddenly know the joy of a vamp taking in this pulsing space.
A low growl originates deep in my throat and she reacts, flipping me down and beneath her and yanking her shirt over her head before meeting my lips once more. Her fingernails scrape up my inner arms, pushing them up and flinging them out.
She stops. Tears herself away and sits up, straddling me. "Faith."
//No no not again no talking no fighting no anything but me and you and this - //
"Faith," she says again, her voice urgent.
I won't let her, not now, I won't let her ruin this. "Shut up."
"Faith." I want to cry. "You're gonna have to help me with your shirt, Faith."
Eternity is too weak a word to describe it. All I know is there's this little place I'm in where nothing exists except her hands and my hands and I don't even really consciously know it's building up until she touches me *there* and I scream, and her hand comes away soaked.
She laughs, a soft sound that has only gentleness in it, and all I can do is laugh right along with her. The sound of it is what brings me back, her delicate giggle and my low, throaty laugh. It reminds me how it's supposed to be, how the cards have been laid out and the roles assigned in our lives, and with one swift motion I'm on her.
My whole world is flesh. Her lips, her breasts, every bony protrusion //where did this fascination with her hips come from?// and there is something wholly arousing about the way she's biting her lip, trying not to whimper.
Nothing else matters anymore and I've never felt this good in my life. And even that doesn't matter because every unhappy moment has slipped away into this darkness of my mind. It's all about her. Her heat, her breath, her her *her*.
The cry is exquisite when she finally releases it. The most feral scream of release I've ever heard, and it's still ringing in my ears as we curl up to sleep.
********
It's not too much later and she's asleep, sprawled next to me with one leg peeking out from under the blanket. Watching her, the wrongness of it all hits me harder than that damn bat Angel used.
It's never gonna work.
We can't rebuild. Mama was right all those years ago when she told me I wouldn't understand until it was too late. And it is too late now.
'Cause she's here beside me and everything about it just screams wrong.
Rather, it's the part that's me that screams wrong. Her perfect skin cast in a sallow light by my overhead flourescents. Her perfect hair matted yet gleaming against my dingy sheets. It's just her perfection, stained like my trashy lipstick has stained her mouth in smears.
So it's easier in that perspective. I couldn't leave for me; I can leave for her. I can walk out of her life for good and give her some peace. Let the world have the Slayer it was doing just fine before I came along.
All I have to do is walk out the door. Into the darkness that holds all the evil things and where I've felt (appropriately?) at home all my life. Cut through the town and knock on that door, where my final salvation/damnation lies.
Which I do.