I kick the sheets off my legs, groaning in frustration. Four hours of me laying here and I've still managed to get zero hours and zero minutes of shut eye. Day after tomorrow marks six years to the day that B stabbed me. Every year around this time I get anxious and moody as the memories come flooding back, more frequently than usual. That's why I'm up right now at five in the morning unable to sleep for the third night in a row. I get up, grab my cigarette box and go over to my window, pushing it open to sit in the window seal. The sky is dark black and it's a bit cold, but I like it. Kinda fits the mood I'm in. There's a special something hidden in my box of cigs that I nabbed from Will earlier, knowing I'd find myself right back here even after a good slay. Though she may not seem to be the type, Will has been perfecting an herbal collection for a variety of needs. She's even got them all labeled and organized, making it easy for folks like me to get just what we need without her permission.
The smoke is nice and light, kind of sweet tasting as I pull it into my lungs. A few more hits and I'm leaning against the window seal lazily. It was years ago that I roamed the streets of SunnyD on the prowl with a taste for blood that rivaled a few demons', but I'm still haunted by the final judgment I was dealt. At times I feel a sharp pain where my scar is. It likes to flare up a lot more when all I can think about is that night, picturing myself getting stabbed repeatedly. I remember the sick feeling of my skin and muscle splitting. No pain, just the pressure of something moving through my insides, warm blood pulsing out of me, and the feel of her fingers at the hilt of the knife. Those fingers were pressing against me once the knife is all the way in, she had really done it. She had really aimed for the kill, which oddly enough was exactly what I wanted her to have the balls to do. Lucky for me the green is making me feel a different tingling and warmth than I felt from blood lost all those years ago or I'd be up obsessing over this all night, grumpy as hell for most of the day, and useless to everyone. I put the joint out and close my window. My bed is cold by the time I lay back down and the slayer inside me knows the sun is just below the horizon. I lay on my back and stare at the window thinking I mind as well catch the sunrise, sighing at the release of the tension in my body and letting my eyes slide shut.
I force them back open and nearly hurl. I'm standing up, downtown SunnyD all around me. The lights in all the buildings hide the darkness of the night, and I don't see anyone going in and out of anywhere, but I can sense that I'm not alone. She's watching me. I start to walk real slow, turning off onto the side of some shop to duck into the shadows but instead find myself standing in her house. Her presence grows stronger, the smell of her is hanging in the air. I turn back to go to the empty street, actually relieved to see I'm back downtown. I run and the next turn I take leads me right back to her living room.
“Everywhere we turn,” I hear her voice echo in my head like she's somewhere far away and not standing right beside me. It's one of those rare moments where she's not holding the knife she stabbed me with but I know it's a dream. B's out with her team fighting the good fight and SunnyD is dust. That doesn't stop me from shaking in fear as she whispers, “No more running.” The wound has opened back up. She presses her fingers into it and I cry out. It feels like her fingers have been doused in acid, my flesh burning, insides burning. For a moment my body quakes in pain, then nothing.
When I wake up it's still dark in my room, only difference is the moonlight creeping through my thick curtains. Ones I hadn't closed before finally dozing off. Something white in the corner of my eye catches my attention and I see there's a note sitting on top of the rest of my joint. Written neatly in a green pen it said 'Thought you could use the sleep considering you went through the length of stealing from me. Next time, ask' signed Will. She wouldn't have been so okay with me asking if she knew it was during her extremely loud banging session in a training room with junior that I five fingered this baby. Plus, the result would have been the same.
Any mentioning what time of the year it is and Will would have probably dropped Kennedy on her ass just to help me ease this feeling I've got, via her secret stash. Or she would have wanted to talk it out after they wrapped things up, either way there would have been a long unnecessary talk. Will knows all about being the new big bad in town. She's fought B too, just without the getting stabbed part. She did flay a man so she can understand being haunted by a human kill at least. B though? No way. Another reason I'm glad she ain't around right now. Seeing how different we are, my dark past compared to her legendary one, gets me all itchy inside. She reminds me of the fact that I'll always be that slayer; the one that went nuts and killed people, and I ain't dealing too well as it is. Just wanna make it through the next day easy, and sleep like a fucking normal person because if I would have been awake earlier I sure as hell wouldn't have agreed to eating Andy's special spaghetti, for the billionth time this month.
The kitchen is pretty empty, patrolling hours are regular and tight. I stick a few pieces of bread into the toaster-oven and by the time they're ready the few slayers that are eating, finish up and leave. I can remember exactly what I ate the night the boss and I started to go through with the plan to poison Angel. Double cheese burger with bacon, extra pickles, and way too much mayo. It tasted amazing. I tried to squirt some ketchup onto my plate and it splattered onto the tablecloth making a mess. Burgers and all, the restaurant was pretty swanky. The Mayor wouldn't have eaten there otherwise. That night he had this look in his eyes while I was trying to wipe up the ketchup, smearing it in more on accident. It wasn't one of his weird ass OCD germaphobe looks that told me he was on the verge having a melt down. He was dreaming of finally getting her blood as he watched me smear the ketchup, but he ended up getting mine instead.
Of course a few bites into my dinner I hear the sound of tires on gravel, a series of doors opening and closing signaling the arrival of a team. Only one team had taken the SUVs so I know exactly who it is, a whole fucking week earlier than expected. It's the cheering and shouting I hear first, the boots stampeding, questions being shouted. Then the door bursts open and the almighty queen walks in, looking a complete fucking mess. Bruises on her face, strands of hair sticking out everywhere, clothes torn with crusted blood - the fight obviously hadn't been an easy one, despite the early return.
Her eyes jump from one person to another, smirk on her lips as the rookies talk about how exciting it must have been, and how awesome it is that they were back early after such a hard mission. Then her eyes finally land on me sitting at the table by myself. Fork mid-air and strung with spaghetti, I've forgotten to take the bite. I drop the fork, grab my bowl to take back to my room with me and decide not to come back out until it's time to patrol. The most boring few hours of my life, sure, minus some of my days in solitary, but there's no way I can sit and watch B get worshiped like that. Not that I don't think she deserves all the slayer droolfest she gets, but the whole avoiding comparing the two of us can't happen if I stick around for stuff like that. Not when it's so close to that day and hour.
***************
The next day it takes me over three hours to get myself to leave my room after I get out of bed. About a carton of cigarettes too, which even I can cringe at. Patrol was excellent last night. A nest of vamps set up real close to a nice little neighborhood with nice little children, and a few shit heads here and there. Vamps have their fetishes. I let my team stay home to celebrate Alpha team being back with the rest of them, giving me the perfect opportunity to let off some steam and really give it the good ol' ugh. Still couldn't sleep when I got back, but it was kind of okay because I didn't want to have another dream about B.
Today's the day. The day the sharp steel sliced right through me, her hazel eyes full of determination as she drove it in deep. Full of rage. I'd terrorized her friends and family, put the love of her life in mortal danger. How could she not want me dead in that moment? I get it now and I got it then, whether I could admit it or not. What happened that night was exactly what I deserved. I was the monster in the night craving blood, anyone's and anything's. Not sure I ever would have actually killed one of the super friends, but I honestly gave no shit about Angel biting the dust. Honestly, I was disgusted by that whole romance between the two of them. Pretty ironic considering I was working for the Mayor, but still. What Buffy and Angel had was different.
Angel is the very thing we were created to destroy. The essence of the hunt that drives each and every slayer. Yeah we kill all kinds of nasties, but a vamp.....There's nothing like that kill for a slayer. That tingling of the skin and pounding of the heart when they're close by. It's no wonder I get so worked up afterward, if you ask me. Slaying is like sex. Sometimes it's easy, real quick, and not so satisfying. Other times the pain feels just right as you grind your way through, muscles aching, body trembling with the rush of it all. I love it. But not half as much as I did during my darker years. Back then it was my everything, so watching B moon over the enemy of what brought me out of my hole in Boston, giving my life meaning and all that shit, it set something off in me. Not to say it was the only thing. Killing Finch was obviously what sent me over to the other side, but B and Angel's relationship fucked up my whole sense of how things worked in the world of slaying, a world I had just entered into. Suddenly things became as far from black and white as the life I had been running from, and I just couldn't handle it.
See, human beings are fragile like that. Shatter their beliefs and you shatter the person. Sometimes you've got something great and positive to fill the void, sometimes you don't. It was fear, like it is for most from what I got out of prison. Fear forced into you from living in this fucked up world, subject to all kinds of bullshit before you even realize you're alive. Not to say I didn't have other options in Sunnydale after accidentally killing Finch, but the other options weren't really options for me. There was no way I could have put myself in that kind of vulnerable position, tracking down the super friends to cry and moan over staking a man I was so sure was a vampire. Hell, back then I started to even doubt that. Started to wonder if maybe somewhere inside I did know and just went for the kill anyways. Now I know for a fact that there was no way I would have purposely killed any human that night, not when I had finally started to click with B.
She's in the gym now, going over a few technical lessons with a group of newbies, as promised to them during last night's festivities. If I don't show up for my routine workout session after avoiding the hell out of her last night, I know B will track me down later to question me until I go off on her for not even remembering what day it is. The way she's smiling at a few comments being made, laughing at stupid jibes or jokes about some stupid demon's mistake during a fight, she ain't got a care in the world. I mean, she's still got that stick up her ass thinking the whole world is in her hands, that'll never change, but she looks happy and in control. The opposite of how I'm feeling.
Apparently swords are the weapons of choice for her little session. I throw a few combinations at a bag, watching as she shows them how grip the sword just right for a series of attacks. It's important that you have a good foundation, she says. With sword play it's about your stance and your grip. As they ooh and ahh I try to drown out the sound of them by hitting the bag harder, putting my back into it. I can feel myself start to fall into that smooth rhythm. My body moves with the bag, feet shifting from here to there as I get lost in one of my many versions of meditation. The other kinds usually involve a bit of risk followed by a pile of dust, but the sun makes me keep it simple this time of day.
“Faith.”
I freeze and the bag hits me in the side, pushing me over a couple steps. A few of the slayers choose to forget the fact that we all have slayer hearing and let a little laugh slip through their obnoxious lips.
“Help me with this demonstration,” B says.
I turn to look at her she already has a second sword in hand, holding it out in my direction. “There was a please somewhere in there, right?” I ask teasingly, but she only gives me a look. Shaking off the tension with a good roll of my shoulders, I put on my best grin jogging over to her. “Sure thing, B. You know me, always up for a bit of unexpected fun.”
“Now,” she says, beginning to pace in front of our audience. Everything she says is tactic related, with examples of good execution. My eyes follow the bend and curve of her wrists as she shows them a few basic things, and suddenly I see those wrists manipulating a shorter blade. One meant for my stomach. The gym fades away, it's night time and we're in that abandoned building a few stories above the streets of SunnyD, pre-craterville.
She calls me back to the present. “Faith.” I meet her eyes. “I asked you if you were ready.”
“Always.” I swing the sword in front of me and watch. Unlike in my younger days, I'm not one to run in guns blazing or whatever. From what I can see B ain't so happy with me avoiding her so she's forcing me to stay put by adding my skills to the equation. I plan to do just that. She comes at me straight forward, swinging the blade downwards. The vibrations travel through me, steel clashing against steel but I easily block her. I use a few of her nifty wrist techniques as she strikes again and again, loving that look of frustration in her eyes as she realizes I'm only on the defense. It's a look that sends me back.
The tight bun behind her head disappears and I see her dyed blonde hair slide across her shoulders one moment, tossing through the air the next. She has that damn knife again. The one meant for my gut. I see it every time I jump back, she's out for blood, aiming for areas that would cause a lot of damage. Her wanting me hurt, seriously hurt, caused me to lose my footing that night and I lose it now too as she fakes a high swing but goes low.
My reflexes are barely quick enough, torso curving to move out of the way. I block her next one with a grunt, holding my sword steadily against hers, our eyes leveled between them. I see her next few attacks coming and begin to deflect her with harder swings each time until I see her wince, and we both take a step back.
“No matter who or what you're fighting, a lot of the time your enemy is going to come at you full speed and full strength from the beginning,” she says, turning to the slayers watching us. “You need to be able to keep control of the situation, take note of their movements. Each moment they come at you without pause is an opportunity to observe their strengths and weaknesses. This is especially good for fighting something stronger, or bigger than you are but can be good when you're evenly matched too.”
She says that last part looking straight at me, meaning for it to be a compliment but I can't really take it as one. Demonstration or not, a second ago it didn't look like I was dealing with someone practicing their acting skills. I decide not to give her control of how things begin this time around, taking small steps froward with each swing. Now she's using the techniques she mentioned and her execution makes my attempts look like child's play. Her blade blocks mine left and right. We push each other back and forth across the mats but when I feel my heel hit an edge, the feeling of my body slightly tipping back throws me off. For a moment I'm consumed by the sensation of my body falling backwards, something I still have nightmares about. I used to imagine my timing being off that night after she stabbed me. The truck I landed on would stop short, turn off to the left or right instead of going forward. I wondered what it would have felt like for my body to slam against the cement, or whether I'd feel anything at all.
I blink and realize I've been on the attack. B's got this crease between her neatly managed eyebrows that tell me she's working hard as I force her to back up, moving myself far away from the edge that had me whirling. A few of the slayers have moved out of the way, clearing a path as I press forward. I realize her attacks have slowed, most of the moves she makes are to defend my harder, faster ones. She's breathing as hard as I am, sweat is beginning to roll down the side of her face. I think I have her, but that's not the game we're supposed to be playing. The grunting, growling, yelling as our swords collide grow louder and more frequent until she finds an opening real close and elbows me in the face, making my head jolt back and instantly begin to throb. All I see is the blood on my hand when I pull it away from my face. The hot red stain just like the one on my hand when I touched where she had stabbed me that night.
Her eyes are wide with disbelief. Before anyone realizes what's happening I'm back on her, swinging wildly to keep her away from me. Maybe this demonstration is her trying to prove some kind of point, like she's been coaxing me out of the shadows for a moment just like this, with everyone watching. In the end I'll be sprawled out looking up at her just like I was when she nearly killed me.
“Enough,” she says, her voice hoarse. “They get it.” I don't stop until she hits my sword hard enough to turn me around and wraps her arms tightly around me. I can hear her tell everyone to get out, and the threat she gives she seeing their hesitation. When all that is left is the pounding in my ears and her ragged breath, I try to buck out of her embrace but she holds me steady. That's when I feel the tears on my cheeks. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to but you...” She stops herself from finishing her sentence, and sighs. “...it's over, Faith.”
But I know it will never be over. Some part of me will always be affected by her in this way. By us and the past we share. I stand up straighter, force her arms to part and take a step away. The few moments my back is to her I can feel and hear her try to come closer, but I hold my hand up in warning, telling her I need a moment. More than a moment. What I don't need is the look in her eyes when I turn back to her. That look of sympathy and worry, her own tears on the verge of falling.
“We're done here.” It looked like she was going to say something, maybe ask me what's wrong. I can't handle that. I do the third thing I do best, find the nearest exit.
****************
Later I go up to the roof after patrolling with the newbs. They had all seen what happened in the gym earlier and are acting a bit sketch so I'm not up for our usual wind down following a successful patrol. No one got hurt or lost, a major accomplishment for a group of newcomers, but I can't hop on the joy train just yet. A new team meant earlier patrolling hours, I've still got a bit of time before the clock strikes. For me the day won't be over until I see the sun peeking over the horizon. I can try to find a little comfort in the clock telling me the day is almost done at least. I look out on the grounds, see how quiet they are and let the stillness fill me up. I need its calm to keep me grounded. Nothing else is doing the trick this go round, fighting or drinking. I'm not even going to bother with the fucking, because that requires going out, which would mean people wanting to tag along or having to sneak out. I'm not feeling any of that.
I notice after I moment that I do feel something else though and turn to see someone standing in the shadows, leaning against the wall next to the door I just came through to come out here. They've got a bottle in their hand that they tip back for a long while before stepping forward. There's no need to guess who it is, but she puts any pretending to wonder to rest pretty quick. “Looks like we both fail at our little game of hide and don't seek.”
I laugh but turn away. “You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” I mumble, walking over to the nearest ledge. This one has three foot high walls around it but it still wouldn't take much to find yourself over it, falling to your death. She walks up beside me, eyes sweeping the grounds just as mine had a few moments before. She sets the bottle down between us. It's vodka, not my favorite. I take a swig anyways and push it back over to her. Probably not the best idea considering I can smell it wafting off her, but I'd prefer her sucking it down and passing out to her standing next to me like this. Usually we're only this close when we're at odds, and today ain't an exception.
“About earlier, during the demonstration that wasn't so demonstrationy” she begins, turning towards me. The heat from her being so close and looking up at me like she is makes me turn my back to her and step away. I don't want to find myself lost in some memory of a day she's forgotten all about, especially when all she seems to be able to do is remind me of the fact that she's forgotten. “I feel really bad about it, hence the...” I hear her shake the bottle a bit behind me. “I just got a little carried away, frustrated with you being all avoidy and then all rawr--”
I can't listen to this. “That's it, isn't it? You really are up here crying over elbowing me in the nose with everyone watching. Now you're wasted and weepy as usual. Lightweights.”
“You're being stupid,” she says. I hear the sound of the vodka splashing against the side of the bottle, telling me she's taking another drink.
I turn and take the bottle from her, swallowing down a few gulps. Fuck it, I've already knocked back a few anyways. “Maybe I am being stupid. All I want is some goddamn time to myself. Take a hint.”
“You want to have a bit of Faith time, then do something to make it happen. Get your own place instead of bunking up with a bunch of people you obviously still can't stand.”
“You'd like that, wouldn't you? I saw it in your eyes earlier. Some part of you still wishes I would just get gone. No one hits the way you do without there being something behind it.”
“And so, what? You thought it would be fun to push it even further so I'd snap?”
She's taking the whole thing as personally as I am, thinking I was purposely trying to force her to show her true colors with a grand audience. I notice we're too close again, and I feel a fight coming on but I manage to hold my ground. Looks like she's about to take a swing. it's the bottle she goes for instead. Again.
“It was supposed to just be a normal demonstration, and a way to keep you in one place for just a second so we could talk.” She's speaking with a tone of voice has that sounds like a distant rambling, like she's talking more to herself than she is to me. “Before I left for the mission we were okay, or at least I thought we were. Then I leave and come home and you're back to being closed off and angry. You can barely even look at me.”
“And I bet you can't guess why.” She rolls her eyes in frustration, tired of me cutting her off. Forget standing my ground. I need ten feet, minimum. That and to not make eye contact with her until this conversation is over. I'm about to let her in on the fact that what she's obsessing over is tied to something way bigger than me not wanting to sit down for a chat as soon as she got home, ask her about her trip all googly eyed and happy to see her back in one piece. Not that I think for a second she won't outlive us all. Cats have nine lives.
She comes up behind me slowly like she did earlier. Her caution's got that itch flaring up in me again, but what she says next puts an end to all that. “Because you think I've forgotten what day it is. That somehow I don't remember that night every single time that I see you.”
A strong hand grips my arm forcing me to turn around, and look down at her. My brain ain't working anymore after hearing what she just said. She knows. Here I am thinking she's the perfect fit for the next clueless remake, but in reality she's just as deep into the past.
“You're right, a part of me does want you gone, but not for the reasons you think. I made a decision that night too, Faith. I stabbed you with that knife knowing it could kill you, wanting it to. Except you didn't die, you lived. And now you remind me every day of the decision that I made to kill a human being.” She sighs, lets go of my arm and hugs herself. I watch her walk back to the ledge and lean on it, placing her elbows on top. Her eyes are staring forward but I know she's not really looking at anything. My stepping up beside her signals the rest of her thought to come spilling out. “You woke something up inside of me that night.”
“I wanted to,” I say honestly. I can only be honest now. All these years I thought she was okay with it all. Well, not with me and what I did, but with doing what she needed to do that night. “I would have killed him, you know? The boss would have given me some new and more dangerous ammo, fit only for a slayer assassin, and I would have tried it again, and again.”
She nods. “I know but that doesn't change anything. Not for me, and not for you if what happened earlier is any indication.” Propping her head on her hand, she faces me and for some reason she smiles. “The PTB have a pretty sick sense of humor when it comes to the two of us.”
No statement has ever made more sense. I'm a walking reminder of the day B decided to go the murdering route, and she's a walking reminder of my stint with the darker side of things. Redemption is my only way to feeling good about myself again, years and years of saving lives. But I can give her what I think she needs. “Everything I am now, you made possible. It probably looked like it wasn't until after the body switch and all that in LA that things started to click with me , but it was that night you stabbed me that I started to change. The time out was much needed.”
We both laugh but it's cut short when her fingers touch my scar through my shirt. The dream I had of her pressing her fingers into the wound, maybe it was trying to tell me something. Not that it matters anymore. We've said what needs to be said, faced what we've desperately been avoiding. She moves closer and I don't step back. I don't break the eye contact she demands the moment her eyes travel from her hand up to my watching eyes.
“You still do,” she says.
“Do what, B?” My heart is pounding as she moves in closer. Our breathing picks up a bit and I open and close my fists at my sides, struggling to keep them there as she heat of her body washes over me.
She swallows hard. Her eyes drop to my lips then find mine again. “Wake something inside of me.”
I let her make the final move, which she does with a surprising force that I easily match. The hand that has been on my stomach travels around my waist, slender fingers pressing into my back. Her other hand grips my neck and I finally let my own leave my side. I run them up her arms, up to the bun that I let down so I can run my fingers through her hair, pulling her closer as I slip my tongue between her lips. The moan she lets loose travels down between my thighs and I have to pull back.
Shaking her head she grabs onto the front of my shirt. “Don't. In one year this moment, right now, can be what we remember forever. Nothing else. No one else.”
Things start up where they left off except her hands are busy undoing my pants, trying to push them past my thighs. I'm so concerned with the warmth of her tongue sliding against mine that I barely register her using her foot to push them the rest of the way. My body is already shaking by the time my back meets the wall that she lifts me onto. I take advantage of our lips being apart, pulling her shirt over her head in one motion. She takes mine off too, pausing to stare at my bare breasts. The next time we come together, skin meets skin and it's me that moans loudly. With her standing between my spread legs, one hand massaging my breasts, I can't help but try to rub myself against her as the familiar pounding between my legs sparks back to life like never before. I kiss my way down to her neck, loving the sound her whimper as I lick and suck. She doesn't make me wait long. The moist fingers gripping my right thigh shift to rub me through the fabric of my underwear before pushing them aside to dive ride in, two fingers deep. That sweet heat sends jolts through me with each thrust. It puts me in such a daze that I struggle to keep up when she kisses me again. The sound that she makes when I manage to suck her tongue into my mouth has me craving more.
To her surprise I push myself down from the wall, making her fingers slip out of me. She starts to ask questions but I kiss her nice and deep, sliding my hands into the back of her pants to squeeze the pert ass that's taunted me for years. Sexy is sexy. Once I get her pants and panties half way down her legs she kicks them the rest of the way and we manage to lay ourselves on the roof without losing too much contact. I slide my body between her legs and she finds a way to slip her fingers right back into me to start up faster than before. I'm whimpering too now and my legs and arms are shaking, pleasure washing over me. It's difficult but I find it in me to concentrate long enough to squeeze an arm between us. The tight fit doesn't stop me from finding her wet core, sliding my fingers over her clit in fast circles to spread her juices around. Her head tilts back and I push three fingers into her, more than a little turned on by the way her eyes roll back in her head. I still can't manage to get her to where I am before my pussy grips her fingers. I'm twitchy and struggle to keep my fingers moving inside her. There's no point, I'm coming, pushing my hips down onto her hand to pull her in deeper. The waves pulsing through have me making all kinds of sounds I'd rather her not hear, but god does it feel amazing.
I'm brought back down by her hand running across my bare back. I thrust and twist my fingers inside of her, watch the crease between her brows grow deeper. B fights to breathe but there's no point, she's already unraveling beneath me. Never have I seen anything so beautiful, so intoxicating. She's right, one year from today this will be all that I can think about.