Chapter Ten: ThisCould Have Been A Dance Dance Revolution, but…(pt. 1 of 2)
Timeline: season 4, but Faith is there. and not evil. go figure.
I’m tipsy. Ok. Fine.
Fuck that. I’ve never been ‘tipsy’ a day in my life. I’m fucking hammered. Plastered. Shitfaced. Whatever. Point is, I don’t do things by halves. Everything is all or nothing with me.
I shoulda seen this coming. I shoulda skipped town the minute I saw those hazel eyes, the minute the breath caught in my throat. But I didn’t. I stayed and now I’m royally fucked. Because, like I said, I don't do things by halves.
I stare into the pulsing crowd, shadows and bright lights bouncing around, moving in time with some heavy bass techno shit. The light catches her hair, all shiny and pretty. Just like her. Buffy Summers. All shiny and pretty and perfect. Dancing with her corn-fed, All-American picture perfect boyfriend. I feel my gut tighten and I drain my jack and coke.
Once, when I was little, this kid on block, he bet me I couldn’t stare at the sun for more than thirty seconds. I never back down from a bet, y’know, got a rep to protect. Yeah, even then I was a little hell raiser. As you could probably guess, I couldn’t even make it five seconds. I remember the hot anger in my throat and sunspots in my eyes as the kid laughed and told me I was wuss.
I don’t really know why I’m thinking about this right now. What the fuck is up with me?
I hate Riley. Fucking punk. I hate the way he holds her. The way kisses her and touches her. I hate that he can look at her and tell her she’s beautiful. She just is, y’know? Inside and out. I can’t tell her that though. Because ‘we’re just friends.’ We’re just really good friends. Did I mention I’m pretty fucked up right now?
Buffy’s kinda like the sun. I can’t even look at her without getting burned.
God, he can’t even keep up with her, not like I can. She’s holding back, I can tell. I’ve seen her cut loose for real. Right after a slay, she’s wicked rowdy, movements wild and fast. Her hands run through her messy locks and over her curves, her eyes dark. My hands on her hips, on her lower back, her hot skin brushing against mine.
It means everything just to be able to touch her.
Of course, we don’t do that tonight. Y’know, kinda bad for Dipshit’s precious feelings and all. Oh, yeah, that’s what I call Riley in my head. And to his face when B’s not around.
I bite the edge of glass as a slower song starts and he pulls her closer, her hazel eyes sparkling in the white lights. She looks so happy. Happier than I’ll ever make her. Which is good, y’know? I just want her to be happy.
Still doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a bitch. I watch as he leans down and pushes his lips against hers, still swaying to the music. I tear away my gaze and try to look somewhere else. Anywhere else.
I can’t breathe, I wanna vomit, I wanna get the fuck out of here.
I would leave, y’know, if wasn’t too damn wrecked to stand. So instead I pick up B’s unfinished beer and down it in three gulps.
When I was eleven, my step-dad broke my arm because I smashed a window with a baseball. But I didn’t cry. I ground my teeth and bit my lip until it bled. But I didn’t shed one damn tear, wouldn’t give that asshole the satisfaction. I hate that Buffy can make me wanna bawl my fucking eyes out at the drop of a hat.
I hate the way she makes me feel.
I wish I could pick my sorry ass off this couch, find some chump and get laid, and fucking forget Buffy Summers for even just a second. But I haven’t able to get my rocks off like that in months.
It makes me miss Buffy even worse.
Jesus, listen to me. I'm so fucking gone, I’m not even making sense. How can I miss B when she’s with me almost every night?
But I do. Every nameless screw, every person that’s not her, I miss her more. I feel emptier and that much further away. I’m going crazy here, I just wanna start crying, but I can’t because my cheap mascara will run, and I can’t let B find me trashed and sobbing with raccoon eyes to boot.
God, I’m so pathetic. Brooding in a dark corner, drowning away my sorrows in alcohol. Just like mommy dearest. How more cliché can I get? I start to snicker, because really, this situation has gone beyond ridiculous, and I can’t cry, so what the hell? My laughter sounds brittle and dry.
But then my stomach turns and I feel bile rising in my throat, so quit laughing and close my eyes, willing the nausea to stop.
I just can’t win.
When I open my eyes, she’s right there in front of me smiling, and I have to remind myself to breathe again. I think she sees something in my eyes, something that makes her smile drop. Can’t help it really. If you haven’t noticed, I get kinda emotional when I’m hammered.
“You okay Faith?” She asks, all concern-y and sincere. I start laughing again, and I’m not so sure why. I feel so damn sad right now.
“Me? I’m five by five. I’m always five by five, y’know?” My words are slurring, and I just want to leave. “I’m just keachy peen…Wait, wait, that – that didn’t come out right. Keen, I’m peachy keen…” I giggle a little bit, and she gives me that stern, disapproving look I’ve been on the receiving end of too many times to count.
“Okay…You realize that you, Faith, Queen of All That is Badass and Cool, just said ‘peachy keen’? I think you’ve had one or three too many drinks tonight, F. Let’s go.” She starts to pull me off the couch and I tug away roughly, feeling anger flush my face. Fuck her. She can’t just tell me what to do. If I wanna get wrecked and have a pity party, then I damn well will.
“Lemme go, B. I said I was fucking fine.” I snap, stumbling backwards. Bad move on my part, as my motor function’s not so good right now. The room spins and my knees begin to buckle. B’s arms are at my waist in a second, steadying me. I close my eyes, feeling her fingers touching the exposed skin of my lower back, my arms holding onto hers.
“You don’t look ‘fucking fine’ to me.” She says angrily, and I begin to struggle, but my limbs feel like they’re made of lead. She sighs, and pins my arms to my side, and I start to go limp. I’m feeling so tired all of a sudden.
“Hey, c’mon, Faith, you can’t even stand up right.” She says, her tone gentler. I’m too tired to argue, and I let her slip my arm around her shoulders, keeping her grip around my waist.
The walk home was a blur of cold night air and the warmth of B’s body next to mine, and I think I musta passed out, because the next thing I know, I’m staring up at the heart shaped water stain on the ceiling of my motel room. Which means that B carried me the rest of the way, and that’s just damn embarrassing.
With great effort, I pull myself up, and lean against the headboard just as B comes striding out of bathroom with a glass of water and some aspirin. She smiles at me when she realizes I’m awake. I feel my chest ache.
That smile gets me every damn time.
“How’re you feeling?” She says, looking at me like she gives a shit. Which she does, the only one who has ever cared.
“Fucking shitty.” I reply, my throat dry and scratchy. She gives me a knowing smirk and hands over the water and aspirin, and starts to talk as I down the water and capsules. Only, for some reason, I can’t really hear anything she’s saying. I’m just watching her lips moving up and down. That cute scrunchy thing she does with her nose. She’s so pretty. I’m really close, and she has these flecks of green in her eyes.
“Faith? Faith? Helloooo, anyone there? Faith…um, you’re kinda freaking me out- "
I reach up and cup her cheek, feeling her soft skin against my palm. She doesn’t pull away, just looks at me with confusion etched in her features. I should stop, I need to stop, because I know, I know this can only end badly.
But instead I lean in slowly, and kiss her once, and then again, and then I’m pressing my lips against hers, my heart racing. This is such a bad idea, but it feels so good when she begins to move her lips gently against mine. Her fingers slowly tangle in my hair, and my hands slide up her arms and over her shoulders to wrap around her neck. She’s so soft.
I begin to suck and nibble on her lower lip, and she whimpers. I feel nervous heat rush through me, settling in the pit of my stomach as she parts her lips and I slip my tongue inside. I begin to move my hands across her shoulders, over her collarbones, up and down her arms, along the flatness of her stomach.
I let one hand slowly stroke the taut muscle, and move lower, playing with the edge of her top as I suck on her tongue. I feel her tremble under my touch. But as soon my fingers slip under her tank, I feel her freeze up and she pulls away abruptly.
She stares at me with wide eyes, lips still parted and cheeks flushed. I lean into capture her lips again, but she turns her head, and my lips make contact with her jaw instead.
“I-I should go.” She says standing abruptly. I catch her hand and pull her back.
“Wait, what’d I do? What’s wrong?” Shit, shit shit. She’s panicking.
“Wrong? What’s wrong?! Faith, you’re drunk. And – and I have a boyfriend! And, I’m n-not a – I don’t…Look, that shouldn’t have happened, okay? I have to go. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” She says, turning on her heel and practically running for the door. I feel frustration and misery gripping my throat. She can’t do that, I’m not a fucking toy! She can’t just turn me off when it’s not all fun and games anymore.
“Yeah well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine, princess!” I shout at her retreating back. She stops with her hand on the doorknob, her shoulders tense.
“Goodnight, Faith.” She opens the door, and closes it quietly behind her.
I punch the wall, and kick the lamp of the nightstand, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces, plunging the room into darkness.
I fall back onto the bed, and close my eyes. I won’t fucking cry.
There’s this hole of loneliness eating away at my chest.
I don’t think I can do this anymore. I know I can’t do this anymore. Tomorrow, I’m gonna hightail it the fuck outta this shithole, and get as far away as I can.
I’m not gonna wait around to get my heart stomped on.
Chapter Eleven: Nineteen Stars (part 2 of 2)
She doesn’t knock. She never fucking knocks. And of course, I just had to give her a spare key to my place. And now she’s standing here, watching me with those sad, puppy eyes as I hastily pack my shit, trying not to feel guilty.
What the fuck do I have to be sorry for anyway? I’m Faith, for fuck’s sake!
Since when do I miss anyone? Since when do I care if I’m missed? I come and go as I please. I’m done with fucking Sunnyhell.
I’m done getting my heart handed to me on a plate.
Maybe if I just don’t look at her, I can get away. If she doesn’t cry, maybe I can make a clean break.
“Are you going somewhere?” Shit, her voice is all full of emotion. Cracking and wavering and if I see her eyes, it’s all over. I’ll give in and do whatever the fuck she wants me to.
“Guess so. Been in Sunnyhell way too long. Gotta see the world, y’know?” I refuse to look at her, zipping up my bag as I sling it over my shoulder, keeping my voice as apathetic as I can.
“So, that’s it? You’re just gonna run away without even saying goodbye? Look Faith, if this is about last night, we can just forget it okay?” She’s going to cry. I have to get out of here. “We can just forget, and –”
“I can’t! I can’t just fucking forget!” I shout, finally look at her. God, she’s so beautiful, staring at me with wide eyes, tears shining. She opens her mouth and then shuts it again, trying to come up with a response. I feel the tears of anger and frustration burning my eyes as I look away, shaking my head. This is just too hard.
“Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’ll catch ya later, B.” I say, my voice cracking. I start for the door and feel her hand wrap around my wrist.
“Wait, wait. You – you can’t just leave like that! You can’t just pick up and leave whenever you feel like it!”
“Really? Cuz last time I checked, I was a free woman, and I can go wherever the fuck I want!” I yank my hand from her grasp and whip around to face her. My anger fades as I see the glittery tears tracking down her cheeks. I feel my heart breaking just a little bit more.
“Don’t cry, B. I’ll – I’ll call you, y’know? Check in now and then… I’ll visit, okay? I promise.” She shakes her head in exasperation. We both know I’m a fucking liar.
“You c-can’t leave, Faith! What about everything w-we’ve been through together? What about us?” She yells, sobbing harder. God, I gonna breakdown any minute. I just wanna hold her.
“There is no ‘us’, B.” I remind her gently. She cries harder, and I can’t stop myself. I cup her cheek and wipe away the falling drops with my thumb, my throat burning with sadness. This is why I never say goodbye.
“Please, Faith, please just stay.” Maybe. Maybe just for a few more days. Just stop crying, B. Please stop crying.
“Tell me why. Tell why I should stay.” I look at her, imploring her with my eyes. Please, B. Give me a reason to stay. Please, just give me reason.
“I- I…Sunnydale needs you! You’re a slayer, and there’s lots Hellmouthy nasties and evil for you to beat down! You have to stay, it’s your destiny!” I pull my hand away, tearing my gaze from hers. I feel disappointment eating away at my gut, my jaw aching and that sour taste you get right before a good cry in my mouth.
“You did fine before I was called. I’m just the second string slayer, B. Besides, it can’t hurt to have a traveling slayer, taking care non-Hellmouthy badies. I gotta go, Buffy. I’ll see ya later, yeah?”
I’ll never see her again. I’ll make sure of it.
“Wait, wait! What – What about the Scoobs? You can’t leave without saying goodbye! They’ll miss you! I- I’ll miss you! You can’t go…please don’t leave, Faith.” She whispers.
With my hand on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal in my fingers, I smile sadly.
“Later, B.” It takes every ounce of strength I possess to leave her like that. I swing the door open and walk outside, and I don’t look back once.
“How far will this get me?”
I push the wadded up bills across the counter. The lady behind the glass gives me an annoyed glare, and looks down at the cash like I just passed her a bucket of snot. She picks it up grudgingly and begins counting it.
I pull my leather jacket closer and hug myself, gazing warily around the bus station. Why is it so damn cold? I’m in California for fuck’s sake! False advertising, that’s what it is. It’s not always sunshine and flowers here.
Still got nothing on Boston, though.
I smile momentarily, remembering something Xander told me other day, about the weather here. ‘Don’t like the weather in California? Wait five minutes.’
And then I stop smiling because I’m never gonna see Xander again. I guess I won’t get to mock G-man and his tweedy glory anymore, either.
I hug myself tighter. This station smells like piss.
I’ll miss Tara too, man that chick is nice. And Christ, Anya, she’s wicked weird, but I can’t say she’s ever boring. Hell, I’m even starting to miss Red and her god damned babbling.
And Buffy…Jesus, I can’t even go there.
Maybe…Maybe I should have stayed to say goodbye. One more day wouldn’t kill me, would it?
I shake my head and blink away those thoughts. No. I gotta make it outta here. Gotta make a clean break.
I glance up at the ticket lady.
Nevada huh? Not exactly the cross continental escape I had in mind, but when life hands you lemons…
Prostitutes and gambling. Sounds like my kinda town.
“I’ll take it.”
With ticket in hand, I plop my shit down and sink into a bench. I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. And I wait.
When the bus finally pulls up, I’m still not ready. I stand up and sling my pack over my shoulder and I just stand there. C’mon, move feet! MOVE!
And then I’m walking, every step making my chest constrict more. I feel like I’m suffocating here. What the hell did I do to deserve this? The bus doors hiss and creak open and I'm having trouble breathing. Leaving has never hurt like this before.
I stop with my foot on the first step. The bus driver looks down at me and raises an eyebrow.
“You comin’?” He grunts.
I shake my head and pull myself up the stairs, regret coursing through my entire body.
I stop and close my eyes. Maybe I’m hearing things.
Guess not. I’d know her voice any day. I shouldn’t turn around. I know I should just take that last step and get the fuck away from here. But I can’t. I just stop, paralyzed by her voice.
And then she’s tugging me down the stairs, and then I’m facing her.
Her eyes are red from crying and shining with determination, her cheeks glowing with anger. Her jaw is clenched and before I can say a word, her arms slip around my waist and pulls me flush to her body.
I let out a surprised squeak (which, by the way, is not a very dignified noise) and my bag slides off my shoulder and falls to the ground.
“Lemme try this again, okay?”
Before I can respond, her lips are glued to mine, kissing me hard as she pushes me against the bus, her arms pinning mine above my head. After getting over the initial shock, I kiss her back just as hungrily, my tongue sliding over hers as she releases my wrists and wraps her arms around my lower back. My heart is bouncing around my chest like a hummingbird on crack, and I cup her face with one hand, letting the other run through the softness of her hair.
She growls and moans as I bite and suck her lower lip, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking turned on.
She breaks away, leaving me gasping for air and my head spinning. She drops butterfly kisses all over my face and neck as I recover, her hands moving up and down my back. When I catch my breath and come back to Earth, she pulls away slightly, gazing into my eyes as she tucks some stray locks of hair behind my ear.
“Stay, Faith. Stay because I need you. Not Sunnydale, not the Scoobs, I need you, okay?”
“Okay.” My voice comes out strained and shaky, but right now I couldn’t give a fuck.
She smiles brilliantly, and the fluttering in my chest nearly causes me to pass out with happiness. She leans in and brushes her lips against mine, nuzzling against my cheek before kissing me again. I smile against her lips and pull her close.
“So…you comin’ or not?” The driver grunts, having been privileged to the entire show. Buffy pulls away, smirking at me.
“Not. We’re going home.” She says and slips her hand into mine, tugging me away from the bus and towards…home.
Yeah. That sounds just fine to me.
Chapter Twelve: Zero
Timeline: during Graduation Day, pt.1
I’m standing here on this cold rooftop and I’m just wondering how I got here, y’know? How the fuck did I fall so fucking far?
This is how it ends when you lose your grip on reality. This is how it ends.
On this cold rooftop with the sharp aching of betrayal in my gut. My betrayal or hers? Fuck if I know. Maybe both. Maybe it isn’t the betrayal that hurts so damn bad. Maybe it’s the gaping hole in my stomach. Maybe. God, I’m so fucking dizzy. How the hell did I let this happen?
So, I’m on this cold rooftop, and all this warm blood’s pouring out of my gut, and I’m looking down into the shocked hazel eyes of my greatest enemy. The love of my life. I’m thinking this just can’t get any worse. I’m thinking that maybe taking a swan dive into that cement might be the only way to make it stop hurting.
My greatest enemy. The love of my life. The one in the same. She looks wicked scared. Just look at all that blood on your hands, B. Look what a mess I have made of this. Maybe this is what regret feels like. Maybe this is sanity.
I’m smiling. I always smile. Doesn’t mean I’m happy. Not that you’d know. You never bothered to ask. I’m smiling, and swallowing all this blood. Look what I made you do, B. I made you just like me.
Remember when I killed that guy? Remember when I told you I didn’t care?
I did. I did, I did okay? I really did.
Remember when I lost my fucking mind?
Remember when I tried to torture you?
Good times, right?
I fucking hate you, B.
I love you, B. I love, I love you, I always loved you.
I couldn’t bear it, B. Haven’t you heard? I’m not so sane.
Falling was easier. Falling is so much easier. Slipping into dark is wicked easy, B. Look at all that blood. On my knife. That’s my knife.
It’s so easy when you have nothing to lose.
But staring down at you, maybe I was wrong. Maybe. But maybe I was right. Maybe I lost you the minute my hands were stained with innocent blood. I can’t live without your love, B.
Maybe that’s what this is all about. This was a suicide mission all along, B. I can’t have your love, but I have your attention don’t I? Better than indifference.
Ya see, ya have to understand here. Mommy never loved me and Daddy liked violence more than hugs and kisses. I don’t know where love ends and hate begins. It’s all just passion to me.
I don’t know how to love.
I just didn’t know how to love you.
I still don’t.
“Still won't help your boy, though. Shoulda been there, B, quite a ride.”
I hope he dies. I hope you cry until you can’t breathe. I hope you’re never happy again.
I just don’t know how to love you.
I take the plunge and let myself fall from the edge, and I almost laugh at the irony of the imagery as I fall.
Chapter Thirteen: Love You to Death
“Well this is…new.”
Black and white squares line the floor, the white checks eerily aglow in the ultraviolet black light that illuminates the room. Crooked walls rise on all sides of you and the neon furniture is warped and out of proportion. Everything too big or too small.
Your silky blue dress and white apron. It feels familiar doesn’t it?
You remember this story.
A hole. In the center of the room, pitch black and no telling how deep it goes. How far you would fall. Rabbit hole. It’s getting bigger, you can tell. Slowly but surely, the diameter expanding, tiles slipping away into the darkness. This room getting smaller by the moment, walls enclosing and twisted chairs and tables are creeping up on you. It’s suffocating.
You spin around to find your dark friend leaning casually against the wall.
Her body surrounded by the amethyst glow of the ultraviolet paint on the wall behind her. Cherry lips curled into a wolfish grin. Kohl-rimmed, dirty eyes keep you glued to your spot, breath hitching. Intense.
Warm buzzing making everything cloudy. You shake your head. Keep focused.
“Where are we Faith?” You cross your arms. Vulnerability under her gaze. She always makes me nervous. The first things you notice are the bunny ears attached to the headband in her hair. It would look ridiculous on her normally, but the twisted Playboy bunny look sort of goes with the scenery.
“Looks like we’re in Wonderland, ‘Alice’.” She pushes off the wall.
Fuck-me heels echo across checkered tiles, a feral smile bright in the black light. You can’t move.
Rushing, buzzing, dizzy hot. Hazy, dazy heat. It feels intoxicating. It feels so good.
Your eyes drift down her slinky black cut-off top to her flat stomach. Dark ink stains alabaster, just below her navel. It says “Drink me.” Want to.
The fuzziness settles in, a heartbeat sounding unusually slow in the surreal glow of the room. My heartbeat. This heat, this exhilarating heat. It fits you like a second skin. You didn’t even realize how close Faith had gotten, so caught up in this blissful buzz, this adrenaline. Too caught up in the pitch black letters in her skin. And then you’re no longer seeing a tattoo. You’re running your eyes up her taut body, you’re seeing whiskey eyes. So. Close.
She smiles wider, eyes shining and white teeth, her canines almost too sharp. Like a hunter.
She uncrosses your arms for you and at this point, you vaguely think you should take a step back. But you don’t.
Instead, your eyes lock to hers. Skin flushing. Sparks skittering up your spine as her arms snake around your waist and pull you against her tight body. So. Close.
Shivering when silky locks tickle your collarbones as she buries her nose in crook of your neck. Breathing in your pulse.
Bite me. I want to feel it…
Your eyes close, a rush like no other tearing through your veins as soft lips press to your shoulder. Making you dizzy, making you shake. Making you want. She’s kissing your neck, she’s burning your skin. It feels so good it almost hurts. Sucking, biting, kissing. So good.
Currently, your mind is still playing catch up.
“Faith...? What, w-what are you…uh…” You trail off, voice shaky, so not in control. You feel her stop and chuckle huskily into the column of your neck, lips curling into a smirk in your skin. You shudder, hands moving to grip her wrists where they rest on your hips. Needing to hold onto something as the assault continues. Up and down your throat where the blood races. Teeth dig into your collarbone and you dig your nails into her wrists. When she reaches that oh-so-sensitive spot under your ear and licks it, you can’t choke back the quiet mewl. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
“So, you ready to fall down the rabbit hole, Buffy?” She whispers in your ear, with her cigarette/sex voice, extending your name in a way that makes your head spin. It sounds so raw.
It’s that rawness that shakes you from the lust haze. The rawness. So real. Can’t…
You pull away sharply, dropping Faith’s wrists and taking a step back. Breathing. Finally.
“What the hell are we doing here?” You demand, hating how shaky your voice still sounds. You need all the control you can get right now.
Faith pouts, disappointed you don’t want to play anymore, but her eyes don’t lose the impish gleam. She walks away and runs a finger along a glowing and contorted table.
“Well...seems to me I was just givin’ ya a wicked nice hickey, and you were lettin’ me.”
“I-I didn’t mean…The room Faith, why are we in this room. Where are we?” You say, flustered and annoyed. Funny how fast she can take you from horny to aggravated.
“Dunno, B. It’s your dream. You tell me.” Her voice fakes indifference, but her eyes can’t.
“It feels real.” You say, sounding unsure. Anything is possible in Sunnydale. You know this for a fact. This could be a dream. Or this could be just another way for the newest Big Bad to fuck with you. Your life could be in peril at this very moment. Just another day on the Hellmouth.
Faith turns to face you, cocking her head to the side and studying you intently, the mischievous glow gone from her eyes for a short moment. You suddenly find yourself missing the feeling of her lithe body against your own, the safety/danger of the contact. The warm buzz. Faith.
“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.” She says, apathy dripping from her tone as she reaches into her back pocket and pulls a shiny gold watch from it, releasing the catch and gazing at its face. Her brows furrow and her features cloud over, eyes somber as she shuts it again. She begins to swing it so that the chain wraps itself around her fingers, before swinging it in the opposite direction, unwinding.
She doesn’t look at you anymore. It feels cold.
“Look, Faith, we need to get out of here, that thing is getting bigger by the moment.” You say, glancing over at the expanding hole warily.
“C’mon B, y’know how this story goes. We’re late, we’re late.” She holds up the shiny pocket watch.
She wavers a moment, before pushing the watch back into her pocket, chain hanging out.
“The tea party.” She looks at you, eyes no longer dancing with danger, but serious, almost forlorn. You blink in confusion, confused by her abrupt shift in mood.
“We’re never gonna make it if you don’t take the plunge, B.”
“We’re never gonna make what?”
Faith shakes her head in frustration, looking into your eyes, trying to make you understand.
“Do you trust me?” She asks, ignoring your question.
She smiles slightly, and then glances at the spreading abyss. From the moment her lips curl into that tiny grin, you feel a shift. The haze lifting and nothing but clarity is left in its wake. The rabbit hole.
Faith takes a step back, and holds out her hand, as it gets bigger and bigger behind her. Swallowing the room.
You don’t hesitate, slipping your hand into Faith’s. Safety/danger.
She leads you to the edge. You should be scared…but you’re not. It feels right.
“On the count of three?” You ask. It all makes perfect sense now. This is the way it’s supposed to go. The Chosen Two.
She smiles at you, all dimples and honesty. She counts down, eyes never leaving yours, and when she hits one, you close your eyes and jump,
Your hand still holding tightly to hers. Falling.
And then you’re waking, heart hammering and blinking in the warm sunshine spilling from the window onto your bed. A bed you happen to be sharing with a still very much asleep Faith.
Which means that the dream was probably not of the shared variety, and in this moment, you’re not really sure if you’re relieved or disappointed.
You wonder for a split second why she is here, in your bed, before recalling your suggestion that she stay over last night after the slayage. For pizza and slayer bonding, of course. Right.
As you study the younger girl sleeping next to you, so unguarded, so vulnerable, the lingering feelings of hot desire and nervous energy come back tenfold. Remnants of your trip to ‘Wonderland.’
Before you can stop yourself, your hand is reaching out and you are ghosting fingertips across her pale cheek, along the curve of her neck. Over her shoulder and down the smooth skin of her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in your wake. Faith’s eyebrows knit together and she mumbles something incoherent in her sleep. It makes your chest clench and breath catch. Uh oh.
You reach over again and shake the girl gently, suddenly wanting to hear her voice. Wanting normality, somewhere away from these heart-racing, heart-aching feelings.
“Faith…Faith, wake up.”
She groans and turns over. You roll your eyes and shake her again.
“Lemme alone…” She grumbles, curling into herself. You smile slightly, and dammnit, there are those flutters in full swing.
“C’mon, wake up sleepyhead, I need to talk to you.” You shake her harder and she finally rolls over, opening her eyes.
“Huh, whu?” She asks, blinking in the light, throaty voice thick with sleep and looking adorably confused. Flutter.
She gazes at you expectantly, the sunlight from the open window highlighting her russet locks and catching the gold flecks in her eyes. It’s in this moment that you realize you haven’t really thought of anything to say. Oops.
“I, uh, I had an…odd dream…and I just thought you should know that. Because, well, I wanted to tell you…which is why I woke you up. Hence the conversation we’re having right now. Well, I mean I’m the only one talking, so I suppose it’s not technically a conversation…yet. So I should probably shut up soon, because um, then you can start talking and, uh, share your thoughts. And, you know…commence the conversation. A-and I’m also running out of air…So, um…the end?” You finish awkwardly, wondering just when the hell you started channeling Willow.
Faith, still blinking owlishly in the morning light, quirks an eyebrow and runs her fingers through mussed hair.
“Funny ya should mention that B, cuz I was havin’ some hella weird dreams myself. I’m talkin’ acid trip freaky. Ya ever read Alice in Wonderland?”