This part had been modified from its original version and has been edited for content. If you would like to read the original NC-17 version you can go here
"What the hell happened to you two?" Cordelia cried when she saw the battered bodies of her friends. Buffy and Angel crossed the threshold and looked up at her, dried blood caked on their faces and bodies. "Man, you two stink."
"You try fighting six extremely gross demons and see how well your deodorant works," Buffy said, wincing at the pain talking caused her. She glanced up at Angel, whose face was also contorted in pain.
"We're going to go get cleaned up," Angel announced as Wesley walked into the room, his eyes bulging at the sight of them. "Did Giles say when they'd be here?"
"I just spoke to him," Wesley said, "and he said that they would try to leave within the hour."
"So that gives us at least three hours before the troops arrive," Buffy calculated.
"Wow, those college courses are really paying off. You've finally learned how to add," Cordelia teased. Buffy smiled despite her bruised lip.
"And I see that L.A. has done so much for your sense of humor," she shot back playfully. Angel gently took her arm, and she nearly shuddered at the bolt of electricity his touch sent through her. She looked up at him quickly, her eyes searching his for some sort of sign that he'd felt it too. The hard lust she saw confirmed it. "Right. Clean. That feeling I have when I'm *not* covered in demon gook."
Angel's lip tugged upwards in a half-smile as he led Buffy away from his associates, leaving them to watch the star-crossed couple limp their way to the elevator.
"Now I know I shouldn't be worried, but that mind-numbing fear seems to have decided that it likes being buried in the pit of my stomach," Cordelia said as she moved to stand beside Wesley, her eyes tracking the elevator as it whirred to life and carried them down to Angel's apartment. "Can we trust them to be alone without getting all groiny?"
Wesley looked over at her with an eyebrow cocked. "Buffy and Angel are perfectly capable of controlling themselves. And besides, they are not willing to risk unleashing Angelus for the sake of--"
"A quickie in the shower?" Cordelia filled in. Wesley's eyebrow rose further. She looked back at the elevator shaft. "I wish I had your confidence."
*~*
Buffy studied herself in the mirror in Angel's bathroom as he went in search of some clean towels they could use to get all the blood and demon slime off of themselves. She braced her hands on the sink and leaned close to the mirror, her eyes pinned to her reflection. She hadn't had the time to look--really look--at herself, and now that she was the unnerving feeling was coming back.
She was staring into the face of the girl she had trusted, who had thrown that same trust right back at her with her turn to the dark side. Faith had been her sister Slayer, the only person in the world who could truly understand Buffy because she was so much *like* Buffy that it was as though she was merely looking at a reflection of herself. Angel knew, too, he knew what it was like to be fighting for the greater good, to have a destiny and a purpose.
But Faith...Faith had been a Slayer. And try as he may, Angel was not. He was not the Chosen One, his purpose was not to keep the world safe from demons and vampires and all sorts of Hellspawns. His was to save souls. Faith and Buffy were Slayers, bound by destiny--a force that was stronger than blood. Buffy and Angel were bound by destiny as well, but their love was different from duty.
Slayers were supposed to be good, they were supposed to save lives and give their own if need be. They were merely servants to the battle between Good and Evil, vital keys in the pursuit of eradication of evil.
They were defenders. They were not killers.
And that was where the depth of Faith's betrayal ran. She had betrayed her sister; she had betrayed the calling that they shared. The other girl had turned away from the light, preferring to shroud herself in darkness and harm those who had greeted her with open arms. *Buffy* had greeted her with open arms, taking her in without question. They were connected through their calling, bound by the burden placed on their slim shoulders. Faith *knew*. She knew the lust for the kill, and she knew the high a Slayer experienced when she fought and triumphed over another evil.
Buffy had hoped to find a kindred spirit in Faith, because they WERE so alike. Some higher power had chosen them out of every girl in the entire world to become a Slayer, to protect and guard against evil. Slayers were servants to that cause. They did not join it.
But Faith had. And suddenly Buffy had been alone once more, alone with her calling and no one to know what it was truly like. Angel was there for her, but it wasn't quite the same. She'd turned on Buffy and her calling and her sacred duty, and that ultimate betrayal had hurt Buffy deeply.
It also scared her, because she had been forced to realize that, given different circumstances, that could have been her. She could have turned on her friends and family and Angel and become Faith.
She could have been Faith.
And now, staring into the mirror, all she saw was Faith's face. She raised a quivering hand to her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw in a mix of wonder and disgust. She was Faith, she had become Faith.
But she hadn't, because she was still good. She was still herself. She was Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, Chosen One, daughter of one Joyce and Hank Summers, nineteen year old girl hopelessly in love with her mortal enemy...the list went on. And yet each title only served to reinforce who she was. She might be in Faith's body, but everything that made her *her* was there. The body was merely a vessel.
"Looks like I might have some competition in the brooding category at the Olympics," Angel commented from the door. Buffy's head jerked up, her eyes focusing on him as her lips turned up in a slight smile.
"Just have a lot on my mind," she said, turning back to look at herself once more.
"Something's bothering you," Angel stated, not needing to make it a question. Buffy sighed inaudibly and moved her hand from her cheek to the mirror, gently following her jaw-line on the smooth glass.
"It's just kinda hitting me," Buffy admitted, her eyes glued to her reflection. She felt rather than saw Angel push off the doorjamb and move to stand behind her, dropping what she assumed to be towels on the ground by her feet. "I'm Faith. And somewhere, she's running around as me. Well, hopefully by now she's bound and gagged, but it's still freaky." Buffy sighed, leaning back into Angel as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
Faith's eyes stared back at her.
"But she's not you, and you're not her. You're just in her body," he argued, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. She winced at the contact because of the soreness she felt, and yet welcomed it more than anything at the same time.
"I know," she said, shaking her head slightly. "It's just that this has become this huge mess that I'm gonna have to clean up when things are back to normal."
"But you won't do it alone," Angel told her firmly, placing a gentle kiss on her collarbone. "I'm here to help you, and I'm sure your friends will have their brooms and mops ready." Buffy giggled at the thought.
"Spike would look so cute in an apron, with a mop in his hand..." she laughed, then became somber. "I know that I won't have to do it alone...it's just...with everything I know she's doing to my life--and everything I don't know--I...I feel so dirty. It's like...no matter what I do, I can't get clean. Of her...of what she's done to me. She's put me through so much, and I feel...I don't know, grimy, like that feeling you get when you haven't showered in three days and ran the New York marathon during a heat wave? Like nothing will ever be the same."
Angel was quiet during her short speech, his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. Although he cast no reflection, he knew that she could feel the eye contact. His heart twisted at the injustice and all she'd had to suffer because of the other girl. His breath was cool on her throat as he said, "Nothing will be the same. This has changed things for us, and the outcome of it is gonna be good. We're together," he punctured each good thing with a kiss to her throat, "and we're going to be parents, and you're going to feel a lot cleaner once we get all that slime off of you."
Buffy smiled slightly. "Does that soap clean your soul too?" she asked, her voice sounding so small and scared. Angel unconsciously hugged her closer to him, the overwhelming urge to protect her burning fiercely in his gut.
"The only soul that needs to be cleaned around here is mine," he said playfully. She tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder, giving him better access to her throat and choosing to let his comment slide.
"Mmm...I seem to recall you saying that you'd love me even if I was covered in slime," she said with a playful smile, turning around in the circle of his arms and gazing up at him coyly. "Does that still stand?"
Angel leaned down to brush his lips against hers, whispering, "Slime is a good look for you."
"And what about when I'm fat and cranky and tired and sore because of our babies?" she asked, her smile growing. "Will you still love me then?" Angel leaned his forehead against hers as the mental image of her belly swollen with their unborn children made him tremble with joy.
"More than anything in the whole world," Angel whispered, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back tears of happiness. "Do you know what that does to me?" he continued, closing his eyes to savor her warmth. "Thinking of you, your stomach round with our babies..."
Buffy shivered at the emotion in his voice, leaning closer to him and pulling him to her simultaneously as the mental image hit her as well. She tilted her head back and lifted a hand to gently cup his cheek, guiding his lips down to hers.
"I love you," she mumbled as she kissed him.
"I love you too," he replied. He felt the overwhelming urge to touch her, to feel her bare skin beneath his. It was dangerous, this lust that was swirling through him like a firestorm, and yet he could do nothing but pull her flush up against him and kiss her hungrily.
Her soft moan of pain put a damper on the hot passion shooting through his veins. Pulling back, he saw it flint briefly across her face as she flinched away from his touch.
"You okay?" he asked worriedly. She smiled faintly to reassure him.
"Yeah, I think I just re-opened a few cuts."
"Maybe we should get cleaned up," he suggested with a smile, pulling away from her fully. Her eyes darted over to the mirror above the sink once more, darkening slightly.
"I don't know about you, but I *really* don't like being all slimy," Buffy told him, reaching down to pick up one of the discarded washcloths. Turning to the sink, she quickly wet her washcloth and applied it to her forehead, gently tracing the small cut there. She winced as she dabbed at the wound, dried blood flaking off under her gentle touch.
Buffy turned back to look at Angel, opening her mouth to say something. She froze in place when she saw that he had discarded his torn T-shirt and was standing in the middle of the bathroom, investigating the long slash across his stomach. He looked up at her when he heard her shift, his gaze locking on hers.
"The fish-out-of-water look really isn't that flattering on you," he teased, resuming his assessment of his wounds. Buffy promptly shut her mouth, mentally chiding herself. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him without a shirt on--hell, she'd kissed him the other day when he had been changing. He just had that effect on her, staring at his hard, sculpted chest sent waves of desire crashing over her. She traced the curves with her eyes, unconsciously licking her lips.
"Okay, now I feel like a piece of meat," he said, his voice light. Things were still weird between them, and he knew that they would be until this whole mess was sorted out. She wasn't completely comfortable around him--especially in Faith's body. He had to tread lightly...but not TOO lightly.
Buffy snapped out of her trance at his words, her cheeks burning when she realized she'd been staring. She dropped the wet washcloth on the sink and took a step over to him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her eyes fixed on his, "it's just that I'd forgotten how beautiful you are." Angel's lips tugged upwards in a small smile. She picked up a dry towel and wet it quickly, stepping directly in front of him. "Let me?"
He nodded silently, lowering his hands to his sides and trying not to tremble as her warm hands made contact with his cool skin. She was gentle and careful as she cleansed the wound, reminding him of the time they had battled the Three all those lifetimes ago and how she had been so tender when she had bandaged him up. Her hands moved over his hard muscles with smooth motions and Angel alternated between looking into her eyes and at her movements.
"It's already closed," she whispered, her breath hot on his bare chest. She looked up at him. "Guess those vamp healing powers come in handy a lot, huh?" He smiled down at her.
Angel slowly reached down, his eyes locked on hers as he undid the buttons of her shirt. He looked deeply into her, wanting to make sure she was okay with this. "Angel, what--"
"Shh," he said, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. "Let me do this."
Buffy swallowed back her fear and arguments and allowed him to peel the damaged shirt off her body. No, it was Faith's body. She pulled back as though he had struck her, bringing her hands up to cover herself.
"What are you doing?" she asked, accusation in her voice. Angel looked puzzled, confusion marring his face, until he squinted and remembered the situation. She would feel self-conscious because it wasn't her body. She'd think that he was doing it to cop a feel, or--
No, Buffy wouldn't think that. Looking down at her, he saw the ashamed look in her brown eyes. She didn't want him to touch her because she wasn't in her own body.
"Buffy," Angel called lowly, causing her to blink back tears and look him in the eye. "What is it?"
"It's nothing," she said, pulling away from him and glancing at the floor. "I can do it myself." Her voice held a tremor in it, like that of a stubborn child who refused to accept the help that was being offered.
He tightened his grip on her forearms, preventing her from moving too far away from him. "Buffy, look at me." Her gaze flickered up to his and then away again, causing Angel to cup her cheek and gently tilt her head up. "If we're ever going to make this work, you have to talk to me. It doesn't matter about the body. It's Faith's, I know, but you're in it. You're the one experiencing things in it. It's you I want to clean, it's you I want to hold. You're in there, I can feel you. That's why I want to do this for you."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't want you to touch me when I'm her. I'm disgusting."
Angel shook his head firmly. "Oh, baby, you're not disgusting. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met--and I don't just mean your body. You're beautiful inside and out, and right now I want to love your inside. I want to love your soul, I want to heal it...like you healed mine." Bright tears shone in her eyes at his softly spoken words as they fully hit her. "Will you let me?"
She pushed down the doubt and the fear and the feeling that he just wanted to touch Faith's body. She knew that wasn't true, she knew that that wasn't why he was doing it. And maybe it didn't matter; ultimately she was going to feel it. Why not let Faith's body be the vessel?
"Okay," she whispered, gazing back up at him with trust blazing in her eyes. His eyes widened slightly, he hadn't thought she would let him. Slowly, reverently, he took her hands in his and drew them away from her body. Angel wiped away the single tear that slid down her cheek and moved his finger over to examine the small cut on her forehead. She winced at the contact, but remained still.
Angel's heart filled with love at the trust she was showing him. She couldn't hope to know what it meant to him, how warm and honored he felt to be the receiver of it. He reached over and turned on the shower, slinging two of the washcloths over the shower curtain for them to use.
"Angel, what--"
"Do you trust me?" he asked, silencing her with a finger to her lips. Mutely, she nodded. "Then just go with it."
Buffy was trembling when his fingers found the button of her jeans and undid it. He slid the zipper down as well, and then tugged the pants down her hips. They slid into a heap on the floor, leaving her clad only in a pair of black panties and a bra. She fought the urge to cover herself. It didn't matter what she looked like. This was Angel.
"Are you okay?" he asked huskily. She gave him a weak half-smile.
"I'm fine, Angel," she whispered. "You, however, have too much clothing on."
He smirked and reached down, quickly pulling his trousers off his body. Angel tested the water with his hand, adjusting it to make it a bit hotter. He felt dizzy around her, and he knew that they were playing with fire by doing this. He took a deep, unnecessary breath and pulled his boxers down, letting them puddle at his feet. Stepping into the shower, he held out his hand for Buffy.
Her eyes bulged as he removed his clothing and got into the shower as though it was nothing. She stared at his outstretched hand, unsure. Taking a deep breath, she unclasped her bra and kicked off her panties, following him into the shower.
"Ow!" she cried out involuntarily as the hot spray stung her cuts. Instantly Angel was there, soothing them with his touch. The pain faded away almost instantly, leaving behind dull aches. He drew the shower curtain closed and reached for the shampoo, using his free hand to guide her fully under the hot spray. Buffy closed her eyes and relaxed, letting the water wash away the filth and ease her aching muscles.
His shower was unique in that there was not one but two shower heads, mounted on the opposing walls. The water assaulted her from both angles, making her feel like she was beneath a hot waterfall.
Angel gently massaged shampoo into her hair, and the smell of almonds filled the air as she was brought back to the present. Buffy lolled her head forward to give him better access, sighing in contentment as his fingers danced over her scalp. She let his touch heal her and strengthen her. This was where she belonged, here, with her lover...the father of her children.
He wasn't distracted by her face or body because the littlest movement she made only reinforced who she was underneath the facade. The way she was gently thrusting her head into his fingers, the way she stood under the shower spray, the way she hunched her back over to lean down further under his ministrations. It all seemed so unreal to him, it was like a dream that he knew would ultimately come to an end.
Buffy's sigh of pleasure brought him out of his musings, and as he tipped her head back to rinse the shampoo off her eyes caught his and held them. They had an entire conversation without uttering a single word, their bond strengthening with each passing second. They didn't need words because they were connected as intimately as two people could ever hope to be.
"Angel?" she said, questions in her eyes.
"Yes, love?"
"Is it weird for you? Knowing that I'm in here?"
Angel took a moment to prepare his answer. "It was a bit unnerving at first," he admitted. At her raised eyebrow, he quickly amended, "Okay, it was really weird. But now, I don't even notice. I look at you, and all I see is the woman I love more than anything in the whole world. I can see your soul, Buffy, and the body just isn't important," Angel told her, drawing her to him lovingly. He leaned down to touch his forehead to hers, the hot water making him seem warm and alive.
"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Buffy whispered, her eyes gazing adoringly into his. He leaned down to brush his lips against hers.
"Hopefully as much as I love you," he replied huskily, kissing her again with more passion, more intensity. He had to show her, he had to make sure she knew...
With an almost desperate resolve, he kissed her, wanting her to feel his love for her. His lips guided across hers, nibbling on her lower lip and sucking it gently into his mouth before plunging his tongue into hers. She whimpered at the onslaught but pressed up against him more, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him closer. Buffy didn't care about her screaming muscles and aching wounds, she needed to feel Angel next to her.
Breaking off the kiss breathlessly, a thought suddenly struck her. "Angel...could we--you know...I mean, will the curse still stand if we--"
"Make love now?" he finished, seeing her hesitation. She glanced up at him shyly and nodded.
"I'm not in my body right now, you could pretend I was Faith or something and--"
"It wouldn't work," he told her flatly, leaning down to drop a kiss on her forehead. "It's still you. I didn't lose my soul because of the sex, Buffy, even though it was beyond amazing. I lost it because...because I was with you. You gave me something that night, you made me feel...you made me feel human again. Loved. Whole. That's what caused the moment of happiness."
Buffy stared at him wide-eyed. Angel had *never* spoken so clearly and intensely about that night and what had happened. The whole subject had been pretty much off limits when he had returned from Hell, because it was much too painful to discuss.
"Oh," she said. It was all she could say. Gathering her composure, she looked back up at him and grinned, "You can't try *really* hard?"
Angel chuckled and reached up to adjust the showerhead so the water hit them directly. "Sorry, love, but I know it's you. Maybe if you had come and tried to seduce me as Faith...nope, that wouldn't have worked either," he said quickly at her look. He leaned down and drew her earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it gently. "There *are* other things we can do, though..."
Buffy shivered at the promise in his voice and at the intense sensations his nibbling was sending through her. She pushed at him gently, and he reluctantly let go of her earlobe and straightened. At his questioning look, she giggled and said, "Clean first, foreplay later."
He grinned but complied, turning his attention to Buffy's hands as they began the task of thoroughly cleansing all his wounds with a washcloth laden with his trademark Ivory soap. He hissed as the soap stung, but she soothed him with her touch.
"Is this real?" she asked casually as she turned him around to examine his back, trying very hard not to stare at the evidence of his desire for her. She traced his tattoo with her fingertips, causing him to shiver at the contact.
"If it isn't, it's a cruel joke to be playing."
"I, for one, will not be amused if it is," she said playfully, leaning close to peer at one nasty looking cut on his shoulder blade. It appeared to be healing, though, and once she cleared away the dried blood she saw that it was more superficial than anything else. Absentmindedly, she traced her pointer over his tattoo again, watching his muscles ripple under her fingertips. Her hand glided lower as she abandoned the washrag and concentrated on his skin, reveling in the way it was so hard and yet so smooth. She studied his reaction to her ministrations with fascination as she trailed her hand lower, over the gently bumps and valleys of his toned back.
His soft moan echoed in the tiled bathroom, making her more eager to elicit different reactions from him. With the shower running strongly, making his cool skin warm to her touch, she explored his back--something she had never taken the time to do. But now they had the time, and she was determined to use it.
Angel had to bring his hands up to brace himself against the shower wall as she continued her innocent journey. He'd never felt the sensations she was eliciting; it was as though she was calming him with her touch while igniting the fire that burned deeply within him for her. She brought her other hand up and began varying what she did, changing speeds and pressure as she worked the kinks out of his system.
"Buffy," he moaned softly. He felt her smile in the electricity of the air and continue her exploration.
He lost it a moment later, unable to control himself any longer. Turning around and almost knocking her off-balance, Angel reached out to catch her before she fell, pulling her to him simultaneously as he leaned down and captured her lips in a fiery kiss.
They explored each other as though it was the first time, touching, kissing, caressing. Each touch healed a little, each moan of ecstasy helped erase the heartache that had been prevalent for the past nine months. There was no time but that moment, nothing in the world but them.
Buffy laid her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his lean hips, realizing with a start that he was purring like a kitten after their...fun. She grinned and placed a kiss over his heart before looking back up at him.
"You didn't just happen to lose your soul, did you?" she asked, half-teasing and half-serious. He cracked an eye open to gaze down at her.
"Hang on, let me check," Angel teased. "Nope, soul's safely intact."
"Good," Buffy sighed, realizing that the rational part of her brain had been worried about it. "That means I don't have to stake you."
"You could kiss me instead," he suggested, leaning down to emphasize his point. With a grin she obediently pressed her lips to his, giving him a series of feather-light kisses.
"Works for me," she mumbled against his lips. His arms slipped around her waist and Angel pulled her closer to him and out of the full impact of the hot spray. She snuggled up against him and sighed happily. "Know what else works for me?"
"Doing it again?"
She giggled. "No... Well, yeah, that too, but I also don't really like being water logged. I'm supposed to be made up of seventy percent water, not a hundred," Buffy told him, holding her hands up to show him how pruny she was. He chuckled and reached over, shutting off the water. They quickly climbed out of the shower and wrapped themselves in two of Angel's fluffy towels.
"Thank you," she said simply, gazing up at him.
"For what?" His hand moved to cup her cheek gently.
"For being yourself, for loving me, for knowing it was me..." she trailed off. "Thank you for everything you've ever given me."
"You shouldn't be thanking me," Angel told her. "I should be thanking you. You've given me so much, I don't deserve--"
"Hey, none of that," Buffy said playfully, stepping over to him and pressing her body against his. "You deserve me. And I deserve you."
She sealed her statement with a kiss, and Angel could taste how right it was.
*~*
"Oh my God!" Faith screamed as she threw her head back and strained against her chains. Her eyes were unfocused and she could feel nothing but the incredibly powerful orgasm that ripped through her body. Another one hit on top of it, making her arch painfully and shudder. "What the fuck?!"
The others stopped gathering everything they needed and looked at her oddly. Faith exhaled slowly, trying to slow her erratic breathing. Sweat marred her skin, making her hair stick to her forehead. Confusion blazed in her hazel eyes.
"You've decided to being praying?" Anya snipped, glaring openly at both Faith and Xander from her spot on the couch. "Really won't do you much good now."
Faith ignored her as the pleasure receded and she was left feeling sated yet utterly confused. What had just happened to her? She's experienced one of the most powerful orgasms ever--chained to a chair in the middle of a room full of people who hated her. And she was in Buffy's body...
Buffy's body.
No.
No, it couldn't be.
It couldn't.
Buffy was with Angel...in Faith's body. They could fuck all they wanted and not have to worry about his soul... The question was--could she feel it if they did?
"That stupid bitch!" she screamed, alarming the others. "She is going to pay for fucking that vampire in my body!"
Everyone turned to stare at her in shock, her words echoing through the silent room.
TBC…
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