FAITH'S POV:

It's my fault.

I let this shit get out of hand, so it's really my fault.

I don't blame her for falling in love with me.

I mean, it kinda surprised me, sure, but when you think about it, why wouldn't she fall in love with me?

I'm good lookin', got a killer body, and I sure as fuck know how to use it too. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'm not as dumb as a bucket of hair either.

Plus, she's a silly romantic girl.

Those poems and the picture of me under her pillow.

Can you be any more girlie?

But I guess that's one of the things I like best about her.

The clink and the clang...or is that the yin and the yang?

Whatever.

But you put the two of us together and we sure made some noise.

I love the way she sounds when I make love to her.

No, I mean I like the way she sounds when I do it to her.

But she's history now. Just like all the others. Easy 'come', easy go.

Hey, another good motto. But I guess "get some, get gone" means the same thing.

Little fucking Buffy....well, I guess I won't be anymore.

Her loss.

I pick up the pace and head to the bar. It's too soon to go home. I'd just be thinkin' about her warm sheets while I was lying in my cold bed.

But if I get real wasted, I'll pass out cold. It won't matter how cold my bed is.

Yeah, that's the plan. Let's get wasted.

 

By the time I get over to Giles', everyone was already there.

Not that I expected any different. I was two hours late and severely hung over.

I almost decided to skip it, but then I didn't want Buffy to think I was avoiding her. Fuck no. Nothing wrong here. It was MY decision to end it. The love part. The fucking part was her idea.

So I stroll in, shading my eyes with my sunglasses, and everyone goes quiet. Hmmm.

Usually everyone keeps talking, like they didn't even notice me.

I glance at the room and I see Xander looking at me, kinda like he's disappointed. Willow and Tara are sitting next to Buffy and both are holding her hand. She's not crying now, but her eyes look a little puffy and she's got like twenty snot rags in front of her and two boxes of tissues.

"Ah, um...Faith," Giles says clearing his throat, "We decided not to have a meeting today, so if you feel like leaving that would be perfectly acceptable." Everyone is looking at me. Red looks pissed and T looks so sad.

I pull up my shades and squint.

"Why?"

"Why?? Why??" Anya trills from the other room. She comes back in holding another box of Kleenex.

"I'll tell you why. Your pathetic little stunt practically crippled poor Buffy. She may be a Slayer, but inside she's mush. You're as bad as some of the men I've had to punish. No, in some cases you're worse. You're a woman for god's sake, Faith. How could you do this to another woman? I swear, if I were still a vengeance demon, I'd slap you with your own tongue."

I raise an eyebrow and grin.

"Is that before or after you'd use it on your ass?"

"After, of course, but that's not the point. We all know of your reputation; Xander just told us about your problem at the local restaurants."

I shoot Xander a look. He looks right back at me and shrugs.

"Yeah, so?" I pretend to stifle a yawn.

"Oh, let me at her, Tara. Let go of my arm!" I hear Red say.

I look over and Red is struggling to get out from Tara's grasp. She's looking at me, and fuck, she's scaring the shit out of me!

"Wait your turn, Willow. I'm not done talking yet," Anya says.

"Hey, now wait a second," I say, putting up my hands.

"No, you get to shut up. I think you had plenty to say last night. Didn't she Buffy?" Anya asks.

Buffy doesn't respond.

"See? You made her mute. When was the last time you heard Buffy say nothing? Never. I should make you mute too, by yanking out that tongue of yours. Sure, you may not be able to pleasure the girls, but you won't be causing more pain either."

"Hey, An...look, I get it. But I thought you said you really liked me, and that I was so honest and stuff. I was just being honest."

Red struggles some more and I look closely to make sure T's got a good grip on her. Tara notes this, and I see her lift up two fingers, loosening her hold on Red's arm. Oh shit, she's pissed at me too.

"I meant you were being so honest about my ass. You know, Faith, you really should have come home with us that night. We could have had fun and no one would have gotten hurt. Neither Xander nor I are in love with you."

"Well, just sex then, right? Then why is it that I'm being colored such the bad guy here, when that's all I was trying to do with Buffy?" I wince, cuz I know that was mean.

I look over at T and she's lifted another finger up. Fuck, she can't hold onto a pissed off witch with only two fingers!

"Because we all would have known going into it. You knew Buffy was in love with you and you did it anyway. That's what predators do, Faith. Molesters. They take advantage of someone's weakness."

She's right. I did know. I saw the picture and read the poem.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't tell me, tell her," Anya replies nodding in B's direction.

"I'm sorry," I then say to Red.

"Oh my goddess, Tara, let go of me now!" And she does.

She may be a bad-ass witch, but I'm still a Slayer. I fuckin' spun on my heels and got the hell outta there.

I ran until my lungs hurt. I ran past the motel, cuz I knew she'd come looking for me there...

Where can I go? Where can I hide out?

And then a thought occurs to me.

Betty.

Riiiight.

 

When I got to Betty's, she was just coming in with some bags of groceries. She was struggling to open the lock and balance the bags. I walk up and take them from her.

She looks at me, surprised.

"Hey there, 'B'. How ya been?"

She opens the lock and looks closer at me.

"Are you drunk?" she asks.

"Hell no. A little hung over, maybe."

"Where you at the Bronze last night? I was bartending and I didn't see you."

"Yeah, I was there. What, you didn't feel me eye-balling you?" I lie.

"No, I didn't. But that's not where you got drunk, cuz I was the only bartender on last night."

"No, you're right, I got drunk someplace else. I just stopped by to see you was all," I lie again.

"Why didn't you come up?"

"Well, seeing as you were the only bartender there, you looked pretty busy, so I left you alone."

I'm assuming it was busy. She just said she was the only one there, right?

"Oh god, it was a mad-house. You're not kidding me."

Well, actually I was, but that's okay.

"Yeah, so I figured I'd see you afterwards, like today. Besides, we can spend more time together this way," I smile at her.

She smiles back and leans in to kiss me.

"I've missed you. Why didn't you call?"

"Let's not get into that, I'm here now, aren't I?" I push open the door.

I walk inside with the groceries and there is some schmo sitting on the couch drinking a beer and watching TV.

In his scivvies.

"Relative?" I ask her, raising a brow.

"Boyfriend. Ex," she replies.

"Really, from how long ago?"

"From right now," she says. "Get your lame ass off of my sofa and out of my apartment. And take your worthless things with you."

He looks up, "Oh, is this that dyke you've been moaning about all week?"

"Yeah, that's me, so get your ass up or I'll do it for you."

"You may have to, Faith. He's too lazy to do anything for himself."

"I see that. He hears you struggling at the front door and he can't get up to help you?"

"Hey, I have a bad back. Tell her, Betty."

"He was playing Frisbee-golf and tried to get fancy," she drolls.

Frisbee-golf? Are you kidding me?

I put down the groceries.

"Okay, get up, pal. And MOVE it, or I'll align that spine right up for you."

And for an injured guy, he's remarkably fast. We watch him scurry through the apartment, getting dressed and collecting his things. He's out of the door in less than three minutes.

"Where'd you find him, B?" I ask her.

"Don't ask," she says.

Okay.

"Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?" she asks.

Oh god. Buffy. The original B.

I feel a pang and I can't stand it.

"Nah, not right now. I feel like taking a nap. Come with me?"

"Every time," she says sexily.

I grin. See? This might not be so bad.

I take hold of her hand and pull her into the bedroom.

 

I'm in the fucking tree again.

After Betty took off for work, I swung by a few cemeteries.

I dusted some vamps and then took off each time I heard the gang approach. They probably wondered why there was barely anything around to kill. Except for Buffy, of course. She would know I had been there and had probably sensed me too. I sensed her long before I actually heard the gang approaching. But I knew I had some time, so I dusted a few to work off my tension.

But now I was horny.

And it's funny how you can have sex all day, and even have good sex all day, and yet you're still not satisfied. Gotta be the right person, I guess.

Like the girl in the bed in front of me.

She's gotta be wicked horny. We'd been fucking like bunnies for days. I even got some today and I was still horny.

Out of impulse, I find myself tapping on her window. It was shut tight and I noticed that the lock was latched.

What? Did she think I'd climb up on her roof and let myself in?

Okay, so actually I did. That's how I noticed the lock was latched.

I see her turn slowly in the bed and look at me. We stare at each other for a long time. It seems like she's waiting for something. I want to draw a little heart with a stake through it like that time in high school, but I knew that would just be leading her on. So instead I did the next best thing.

I made my hand into a fist and poked my finger back and forth into it. You know, the old in-and-out.

She stares at me a moment longer and then turns her back to me.

What? Was that wrong?

I've always done it before with great results.

She's just weird.

I jump back down and head back to Buffy's...I mean, Betty's.

Fuck, just B.

 

After a few more nights of staying at B's and patrolling alone, I venture back to my place. I had been wearing B's clothes for a few days. She likes the same stuff as I do. I can't imagine what I'd have been wearing if I was at the real B's house.

No, I know.

Boring, boring, dull, really boring, butt-ugly and my leather jacket.

But I figured it was safe now, since Red didn't come find me with a locating spell or something. Plus, Buffy must not have told them that I was tapping on her window every night.

I figured out the finger in the fist thing was not the way to go with her, but still she wouldn't open the window for me. But I know she wanted to. I could see the heat in her eyes when she looked at me.

She's just playing hard-to-get. I can hold out. She'll want it as bad as I do pretty soon.

I'm sure of it.

I run into Xander at the Espresso Pump. He was loading up on Latte's for Anya. The girl is addicted and needs several fixes a day. I guess he wised up and started getting her four at a time. I wonder if he thought about decaf. No need to have a jumpy ex-vengeance demon on your hands.

I wait for him as he comes through the door.

"Hey, Xan," I say casually.

"Oh, hi, Faith," he says looking away.

"What? You can't even look at me now?" I ask sarcastically.

"No, Faith, I can't. Cuz a look of disgust might cross my face and then you'll just slap it right off me," But he says this looking me dead in the eye.

"Disgust, huh? Pretty strong word for the small crime that I've done."

"That's where you're wrong, Faith. It wasn't a small crime, it was grand larceny."

"I didn't steal Buffy's heart, Xander."

"No, you're right. She gave it to you, and you laughed at her."

"No I didn't," I lie.

"Yes you did, Faith. Out of all of us, I think I know how you work the best. I've not only heard things, but you've told me so yourself. You toy with people and then you leave. You're good at that."

"So? You always liked my stories, Xan. You were always saying 'tell me another one', remember?"

"Yeah, and I was a jerk for doing it. You know, living with an ex-vengeance demon should have taught me a lot about scorned women. About how they got that way. God knows Anya has told me enough examples. But it wasn't until I saw someone do it to Buffy that I got the whole vengeance thing. The whole why thing. You've made me reconsider the concept."

"Hey, glad I could help you straighten out a few things," I joke.

"It's not funny, Faith. But go ahead and laugh. That's what you're so good at."

"Don't you think you're taking this to the extreme, Xander? Fuck, you're a horn dog too. I was just gettin' some."

"Shut up, Faith. You know Buffy is different. Before you got some with her, you thought so yourself. Always questioning her choice in men and why she couldn't be more casual about it. You knew it was never just about sex with her. But you did it anyway, and now you're complaining about it because you got caught."

"Whatever, Xander. Think what you want."

"I will. And now I have to go or these Latte's will get cold."

He turns to leave and I say:

"Whipped," I don't even bother coughing it into my hand.

He turns back to look at me. He's got a smile on his face.

"That's right. I'm a big ole pile of whipped cream for my girl and I love it. I love it and she loves it. And we're happy. Is that what this is about, Faith? Some lesbian machismo thing? Look, you can kick my ass, but I'll still be more of a man than you'll ever be. And it's not cuz I have a dick either. It's because I can admit that I'm pussy whipped. And if that makes me a pussy, then so be it. Isn't that what you think of me? That I'm a pussy? Well, I'd rather be a pussy in love than an ass all alone."

 

Everybody's words keep gnawing at me. Buffy's words, Anya's words, Xander's words, Betty's words. The words in my own fucking head.

Just gnawing at me.

I had just gotten home from Buffy's house. Her roof to be exact. And like the last six nights, I tapped at her window.

Fuck, she's taken this playing-hard-to-get thing too far.

I saw the same heat in her eyes as before. Like the same way they've looked for the past six nights. No, scratch that. Like every night I've been with her and every night since then.

Why isn't she giving in? It's driving me fucking crazy.

And I stopped coming around Betty's.

She's already got a new boyfriend/girlfriend, I'm not sure what it is, but she hooked up with it after I told her I couldn't see her anymore. I felt I had to, cuz she had been so good to me and all. I didn't want to run out on her like the last time.

"Why, Faith?" she had asked.

"Because I'm in love with someone else," I admitted the truth.

"Then why aren't you with her?" she asked.

"I don't really know," I lied that time.

"Well, that's pretty pathetic, and I want you to take your lame ass and get out of my apartment."

I grinned.

"Damn, that sounds kind of familiar," I said.

She sighed.

"Yeah, I know. You've only heard me say it twice, but trust me, I've said it too many times to count."

I kissed her softly on the cheek.

"You'll get it right someday," I told her.

"Yeah, but will you?" she said.

So now I'm upstairs in my motel room, pretty much feeling like an ass and feeling alone. Just like Xander said.

And I felt whipped, too. My ass got whipped good.

So I got to thinkin'.

Thinkin' about all the feelings I had and the images that keep going through my mind.

Of Buffy. Of me and Buffy. Of us.

So I grab a pen and start scribbling on the back of a take-out bag and I begin pouring out my guts. If Buffy could do it, then why couldn't I? Well....

I get up to go find that old dictionary that someone had left here. It was propping up my bureau. I slide it out and replace it with a dented coke can.

After two hours, I got it all out.

Trying to form my words and then looking them up in the dictionary. It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Because half way through writing it, I knew I wanted to give it to Buffy. So it had to be perfect.

It was mostly about sex. Actually, it was all about sex.

But did you really expect any different from me?

At least this way Buffy will know I wrote it. Anything else, and she might have doubted it. No, this was pure me.

And I tried to stay away from offensive imagery. No fist poking fingers in this one.

This is what I wrote:

MISSING YOU

I long to feel that one sensation:
Red hot heat of stimulation
Brings to mind consideration...
You and me in copulation
Picking up some old vibrations
velvet lips in osculation, to feel your hips in slow rotation
makes me throb with such pulsation
soaking wet with lubrication...
Always in my expectations
you give me such titillation
when we touch it's scintillation
makes me yearn for consummation...
But when I lay with some stagnation
I won't feel the deep frustration
of thinking it's just imitation
for there I'd just give limitation
to further thoughts of concentration
For I do have one consolation-
These thoughts work for masturbation...

F.

I didn't put the date, because even though I wrote it tonight I'd been feeling that way for days. I tear the bag carefully, working my way around the poem.

It is a poem, right? A smutty poem, but it's still a poem. I think I'll keep that dictionary handy. I kinda like it. I fold the paper carefully and then tuck it in my shirt. I don't want my ass to crease it. I throw on a jacket and fly down the stairs. I stop at the old lady's house who prides herself with her rose bushes and I snag me one.

Hey, it's her own damn fault. If you value you something, keep it under lock and key. Nah, I'd have gotten to it anyway, even if that had been the case.

I get to B's house and I scale the tree. I quietly jump onto the roof. Like I said, practice makes perfect. I'd be a damn fine cat burglar.

I look at my sleeping Buffy. My sleeping Beauty.

And I want to kiss her and wake her up.

But I can't, cuz I blew it and her window is locked.

And for the first time I realized why it bothered me so much. Why it hurt me so much.

Why it meant so damn much.

She had locked up her heart and was keeping me out.

My eyes began to burn as the tears welled up. Not the kind of natural lubricant I had in mind. And aren't tears supposed to feel soothing? Or at least not burning? Mine felt like battery acid pooling in my eyes. I blink and wipe them away.

I take the rose and slip the stem between the folds of the poem. I wedge the paper into her window sill. I wedge it in tight, in case there's a breeze. I look at her and I kiss the pane. It leaves a dark lip print like the one placed on the poem.

I tap on the window and then jump to the ground.

I look back up and whisper:

"Wake up, Buffy."

And I haul my sorry ass down the street.

 

BUFFY'S POV:

I hear tapping again.

But I've been hearing it all night, so at first I didn't bother to look. The first time I heard it, it was Faith at the window.

Just like the other six nights. And each time I saw her there I almost got up to let her in. Her face looked so sad and so full of longing. But the first night she came she pissed me off. Being crude with her hand gestures. She really knows how to sweep a girl off her feet.

Well, she really does, actually.

But the timing was inappropriate, and she was inappropriate, so I turned my back on her. But each night she came back and I gave her another chance. I waited for the right move or the right look or the right gesture. I wasn't sure what it would be, but I knew I would recognize it if I saw it.

But I hadn't seen any.

So we'd stare at each other for a while and then I'd finally turn away. Go away, I'd think.

You still don't get it.

But tonight I'd continue to hear tapping off and on even when she wasn't there. I was hoping, I guess. I'm still good at that. I turned to look and instead of seeing nothing I see something wedged in the sill. I got up to look at it and I see a rose in some paper and some lip prints on my window.

She was here. She came back.

I open the window carefully, so as not to dislodge the paper. I grab it quickly and then close the window again. A white rose stuck between a grease stained note. Another kiss print on the back of it. I bring it to my bed and reach under my pillow for the penlight. I unfold the paper and it's not a note. It's a poem. I scan down quickly to see if there is an author.

F.

Faith wrote something? I don't mean to sound belittling, but I've barely even seen her doodle let alone write something.

I start at the top. MISSING YOU, it said. And I read.

After reading it over and over, I came to the conclusion that this was a love poem to Faith. Yes, it's all about sex, but it was sex she pictured having with me, and she obviously put a lot of thought and time behind it.

She's not so quick to call it a fuck now.

Maybe her heart got the better of her mouth this time.

It's still not exactly what I wanted, but I have to consider the source. This was big for her. It meant something to her.

And I know I mean something to her even though she wrote only about sex.

Sex with me. Sex together. Sex between us.

If she doesn't screw anything up between now and tomorrow night, I'll consider leaving my window open.

But she probably will. She always does.

 

Faith didn't show for the meeting, cuz none of us did.

It was another free day, and I roamed around town looking for her. I didn't let on to what I was doing, of course, I just told Will and Tara that I wanted to go window-shopping and have lunch. But I didn't see her anywhere.

Which is good, I guess. If I didn't see her, then there was less chance of her screwing it up. I say less chance, cuz with Faith, she doesn't always have to be there to screw things up.

But nothing did, so after patrolling a few places that I could sense she had been, I got ready for bed and opened my window.

Just a crack.

If she wants it bad enough, she'll have to climb up and look.

I wait.

About a half hour later I hear a scratching sound on the roof.

Her boots with the gravel in the treads. She's not as quiet as she thinks.

I look at her as she notices the window is open. She looks surprised, but then smiles. She looks at me and then places her hand under the wood and then lifts up. I guess she knew it was an invitation or else she didn't care.

Either way, she was now in my room and shutting the window behind her. She looks at me for a good long minute and then approaches the bed slowly.

She looks at my nightstand with her rose in a vase. Next to it is her poem with her picture on top of it.

She comes to my side and then kneels on the floor.

She reaches to me and then takes my hand into hers.

"I love you," she says, "And I'm sorry."

"Do you want to be with me?" I ask. I'm not playing around.

It's either yes or get out.

"Yes," she says, and she wipes at her eye.

Are those tears? Well, I'm not budging.

"For how long?"

For what? For like a day, or a week, or a month?

"Forever."

And she finally says the right thing.

 

FAITH'S POV:

"Yeah baby, I'll hold your purse for you."

Xander is grinning at me as I make a fool of myself.

"Oh, and these too," Buffy says, piling bags into my arms.

I'm peering over the ton of shit that Buffy loaded onto me and I see the rest of the gang grinning too.

Fuck 'em. I'm happy.

"And Faith, don't slouch."

Don't slouch. Then why are you piling all this shit on me? She's lucky I'm not bent over in half.

"Faith," she says, looking at me.

"Okay, baby," And I straighten my spine. I swear I heard it crack.

"Oh, she's PW'd alright," says Anya, fussing with Xander's shirt.

"Yeah, she is," Xander smiles.

"And if she keeps watching you, she'll learn from the best," Anya says before slapping his ass. She follows Buffy behind a dressing room curtain.

He does an exaggerated jump and then scowls at me. But I know he's kidding. I can see a little smile to the corners of his lips.

"She's not PW'd," says Tara, "She...she's in love."

I love that fuckin' T.

"God bless ya, baby," I say.

"Goddess," corrects Red. She looks smugly at me.

"What's with the face, Red? I wouldn't be so quick to exclude yourself. Last I remember you were getting shut down. Have you been earning a little 'pussy, Willow'?"

"I swear it's always about sex with you," She shuts up quickly, looking at Tara.

"Yeah, Red. I'd re-think that if I were you. Remember the last time you said that? Well, that's what I was referring to."

Tara looks at Willow. Willow puts her arm around Tara and snuggles in close. She whispers in her ear.

"No, baby. Not the 'big chill' okay? I was just playing with Faith. I'm just kidding."

"I know, Willow. Could you please hold on to these for me? I want to try on some clothes with Buffy," Tara gives Red a quick kiss and then piles her shit on top of her.

The three of us look at each other.

"Better a pussy in love..." says Xander.

"...than an ass all alone." I finish for him.

We start laughing.

Red looks quickly over her shoulder, watching for Tara, and then says:

"I swear it's always about sex with you!"

"We heard that," Sing-song three voices from behind the curtain.

Bichano chicotes

Mao bian da

Chatte soumise

Bwa (click click) tswa (click) pussy

Pussy whipped

That's me.