Scratch You Out
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Joss and Mutant Enemy, no copy-right infringement intended...as I'm nothing, but a humbled toad playing on a lilly-pad of his universe.
Author's Notes: Set during Orpheus, a peak into Faith's private hell, though the title itself, oddly enough, is a spin on something Post said in "Revelations". Concept and prompt curtesy of Sarah....
Rated PG-13: Cause I keep the real nasty shit in my head where it belongs for me and mine only.
Dedication: An early birthday gift, hopefully amidst a slew of other ones within two weeks, but by no means an excuse to send back what I already bought when it's just a lil something, something small and you deserve better anyhow....all around.
Feedback: I'd really appreciate it. I'm pretty deprived and just got back on the horse after a hiatus.... needless to say it'd mean a lot.
Scratch you out
So here it is, exactly how I thought it would be squeezed into the sands of the seventh level. They say ‘a lil dab will do ya’ but the dumb-ass that I am always ODs. I increased the dosage to get the job done, to kick Angelus’s ass back to the hell he came from only to end up in my own.
It leads you down to hell…and leaves you there.
It’s not dark, not cold, but warm and vibrant like a thousand Hail-Mary’s for forgiveness or a bucket of beach-seeped sand holidays I never got to go on. It’s something sacred, primal, but all that washes away into the desert as it becomes Buffy, just Buffy, with her big eyes looking down those lashes like she loves me. Must be a mirage.
Then I’m whatever. Dust in the wind. Candle… in the wind. There’ll be a general wind theme.
“Where the hell am I?” She grabs my hand, pulls me up, and wraps her arms around me shrugging off my sarcasm, misplacing the pun beneath the dunes. To stand up is burning my bare feet.
“Where-ever you wanna be…” Fuck you.
“Then why am I with you?” I mumble over her shoulder still clinging on.
“Good question.” She’s as soft and sardonic as ever.
You know what the definition of insanity is baby? Performing the same task over and over again expecting different results.
When we finally unravel from the embrace our steps fall into sink. Her fingers laced in mine automatically having forged a wedge between me in my sanity before we sink beneath the sand just long enough to register where we’re walking now, the streets of Sunnydale.
“No…not down this alley…”
“What’s the matter Faith ?”
Her hand tugs me along and my feet continue to follow though I feel like I’m five all over again being pegged down by 3 docs just to get my tetanus shots for school. I mutter ‘everything’ in response, but it falls on deaf ears.
When we approach Alan’s body the blood is a red-wet still soaking through his shirt, still staining his trembling lips. She remains silent til I frown and flinch.
“You can tell me… you can tell me anything. “
I rolled the dice. It paid even odds.
Her lips drop across my cheeks making promises of absolution I can’t seem to shake. Her mouth meets mine and I quiver the way I did every single time before this moment she’s brought me back to. It’s bad enough having been sliced open by her back in the day, but now I’m shoved against a chain length fence with a strong leg propped steady between either side of my inner thighs, a knee now doing the slicing into my jean-seam, gauging the skin below.
Only it’s not your gut princess.
You tell me what’s worse because she plays it coy, but she’s no different than me, from filth to frost and back again. Passionate and passive aggressive all at once while all it ever equates to is heat.
I try to speak….to be the voice of reason for once.
“Don’t…” I attempt to murmur, but it comes out as a hiss as she squeezes my breasts, sucking down my mouth in response tasting the temptation of all my wants. All my needs.
“Don’t what…” She asks stroking my cheek. Those eyes are still killing me so slowly.
“Don’t love me like you do….why would you?”
“We fit…” That’s all she says. Lips reclaim mine and I clasp onto the complacency I was destined to making the metal beneath us melt into a mattress.
Choices little girl, the ones you make with your heart of hearts.
The feel of satin sheets doesn’t scream ‘stop’ to every wet dream I’ve ever had of this woman. Lips keep lingering and the drives been brought to life, revved and renewed. I hold onto her waist and intend to ride every last god-forsaken bit of her, bit of this, out.
Open the window, fill the stone
Inside-outside, two made one
There’s motions in the make-out that don’t last as long as I’d like them to, it’s just the burden of my patience growing as thin as the walls I thought were protecting me, though there is highlights…so many highlights.
Is that the nasty little lie that kept those thighs nice and warm in your prison bunk?
All those small sensations of her smug-smiles beating me down better then she ever could, my breasts burning all over again as she allows me to lift my shirt up and over my head, the stare that follows, her palm placed there to count the beats between the breath we take for oxygen… to count the time I have left.
All the same I hear this holler in the distance...
Then there’s me sucking her lower lip with a growl of gratification as we’re completely unclothed and clawing at each other.
I’ve rolled the bones, you for me.
Kissing her is like swallowing silk so why am I still waiting for her hands to slide back up from tracing my ribcage to smother me beneath a pillow?
Anybody notice a battle with your alter-ego going on here?
But that’s how it hits me that I really am in hell. My 3 years in the clink have been spent in my head anyhow giving me that reason to live; now they’re giving me that reason to die.
I did my time...it hurts.