“You’d think saving the world would afford us better accommodations. This is no way to treat superheroes.” Buffy looks around, taking in the seedy motel attached to the bad country bar.
“Guess we should have taken the time to rob the bank while we were stealing rotten apples and rubbing alcohol. Apocalypses always take your mind off the more important matters…You know, like clean underwear.”
Buffy looks away, embarrassed, as I put one arm around her shoulders and scratch at my armpit with the other for emphasis.
“Ah, they probably took all the cool gold bars with ‘em. We’d have got stuck with eight hundred rolls of pennies. Might have looked suspicious.” I chuckle, shaking a cigarette out of the pack I’ve thumped out of the vending machine.
Haven’t totally got rid of the want, take, have attitude. Especially now that we were homeless and shiftless. B was right. This was no way to treat superheroes. But then again, I got some expertise in the area.
“You mean, as opposed to the League of Extraordinary Gentlewomen we’re dragging around? I had to tell the guy we were headed for the Lakers’ cheerleader tryouts.”
“Xander will love that, to add to his nubile fantasies.”
We sit in silence, each entertaining our own little fantasies. I light up a cig, scooching down close to where Buffy has settled on the cement steps. Her nose wrinkles when the smoke hits 'em, looks cute, but guess I shouldn't be making her sneeze with a gut wound. That's me, all sensitive now. I scrunch the butt under my boot, and she gives me a small nodding ‘thank you.’
“Yeah…good thing he only has one eye to leer with…not half so offensive. Hey, do you think he has to focus on one boob at a time, or can he ogle 'em both?”
“That’s just evil, Faith. I thought you were trying to cut down on that.”
“Hey, he started with the one-eyed monster jokes.” She groans. “Alright, alright. I'm done now. How’s the side?”
“Still stabbed, funnily enough. A little funky with the healing.”
“I hear a coma’s good to relieve the worst of the itching.” Why did I say that? We were getting along so well. Which is surprising, considering everything that went down before we caved in the D.
But maybe B knows I'm the only other person who can really get what she's feeling now. Triumphant, empowered, exhausted, overwhelmed...and to be honest? Maybe a little less special.
“Maybe, but I’d miss the next ‘Survivor.’” She lets the comment go, but not with out poking exactly where that fine scar exists.
“Your head looks all healed up though.” I trace the light line under my fingertips, until I notice she’s leaning into my touch. And she’s got that ‘I want to be kissed’ look. Somebody’s mind must have fallen into the crater too.
“Wow, Faith you took your eyes off my breasts long enough to notice. Anything else you’re noticing?” She bats her eyelashes. Jesus Christ, when did B turn into the Skanky Slayer? Thought that was my job.
“Yeah. Underage girls crowding the cowboys.” I motion towards the long line heading into the bar.
“Time for the cavalry, I guess.” She sighs, looking sincerely put off. I help her to feet, and hesitate a second. What am I doing here? Stopping girls from drinking and dancing? I fought on the wrong side.
“B? Did you ever guess I would be part of the cavalry?” It’s hitting me now…I’m Good. Maybe not “Good” as in chaste and not stealing cigarettes good, but…on the right side at least.
“To be honest, Faith. Not in a million years. But I don’t know if you’ve noticed? The world is full of surprises…” Damn, she’s pushy. We elbow our way through the crowd, culling the underage from legal girls.
“Like Xander? Strangely good line dancer.”
“That is frightening…Uuuhh, B? You notice anything else…different about this bar?”
She glances around, finally noticing the cowboys in the corner necking up a storm, the guy belting out Lee Ann Rimes for the guys dancing. The Bartender's chaps are all he's wearing.
“Hmmm, guess we don’t have to worry too much about the girls….however should we tell Xander he’s in danger of being broke-back-mounted?”
“Well, he did ask Will to gay him up…maybe this is Fate.”
I look over to the hapless carpenter, just as a hand slaps his ass rather firmly. He looks down, up, around...sees what Buff and I see. Realization dawns in his one good eye. He gets that spastic Don Knotts look to him, lapsing for a second into a weird version of the Snoopy dance, but when he notices me giving him the thumbs up, he shrugs his shoulders, and falls back into the line dance.
Averting death makes you sweat the small stuff a lot less.
“He could do worse.” I note.
“Yeah…Kinda jealous.”
“Yeah, B? Maybe we can find you some sort of Big Bertha in here…” B rolls her eyes at my smirk.
“No thank you. Guy is probably some sort of Demon with Xander's luck. We should keep an eye on him. Anyways, F, some of us don’t keep our brains in our pants. I was talking about the fun, the flirt…not the sex.”
“Sure, B. You keep pretending that. Slaying regular demons gives me the hornies… slaying the Big Bad that gave birth to those demons? I’m willing to strap one on and wear a fake mustache for one of these boys.”
B swallows loudly at the image her brain keeps feeding her. “Facial hair or not, Fai? I don’t think you’ll be fooling anyone into thinking you’re a boy.” Her eyes linger on the cleavage peeking out from the brunette’s beater.
“Hey, B? Weren’t you the one complaining earlier about not looking someone in the eyes when you talk to them?”
Burned, B tries not to laugh, and motions to the bar. “Beer?”
“Uh, B? Stabbed, remember?”
“Slayer Healing, remember?”
She lifts her shirt, and I can see it’s been awhile since there was any fresh bleeding. I also see the edge of a lacy white bra....Who wears lace to an Apocalypse? And why am I dying to see if it's a matching set?
“Anyway, we’ll think of it as a painkiller,” she reasons. “A frothy, golden, hopefully not cursed painkiller.”
“Cursed?”
“Long story.”
Raising two fingers at the bartender, we get our drinks and make our way over to a table. I try to settle into the silence she seems to want, watching B's head bop to the music, but I ain't exactly Miss Attention Span, and I'm going to drum a hole through the table soon.
“So really, B? You thought about what yer going to do now? You could like retire…knit...raise kittens…”
“Half a day of not being the Chosen One, and you’ve already turned me into Crazy Cat Lady? No thanks…I was actually thinking of something we might do together… if you're up for it?”
“Oh yeah? Missing the danger already hunh, B? Gotta create some of your own? And Chosen Two by the way.” I form my fingers into Spike's patented V sign, which he was kind enough to inform me is really quite obscene. Beat my chest with them.
“Oh F…you and your cute little attempts to scare me. You need to put more grrr back in your bite….You've lost your edge. Maybe get in my face a little.” I love the dare creeping into her voice.
“Yeah?” I scootch my chair closer, until our thighs are touching. She tenses the muscle, rubbing up and down slightly. Suddenly, I feel the grrr go outta me…and be replaced with a slight…
“Are you purring, Faith?” B bursts out laughing. "I think you're the one's gonna be the Crazy Cat Lady."
Dammit…“I was…humming.”
“Hmmm.” She places a finger to my lips, tracing down my throat. Nervous flutters break out in my stomach. What the Hell is going on here?
“So? You were, uhh saying…something about us doing….together…stuff….?”
Brain not... work.
Her finger stops right at the top of my shirt, and hooks into it, pulling me close. Our lips are almost touching. From the corner of my eye, I see Xander notice and take a big misstep. This causes a domino effect, and pretty soon he’s on the bottom of a very big manpile. If I wasn’t about to combust with the heat B’s giving out...that would have been really funny.
“Right, F.” She licks her lips. “Well, I was thinking…”
Contributed by georagetaz
Where Do We Go From Here?
- If Buffy is offeringto take a road trip to Cleveland with Faith and make sure they haven’t stirred up a nest of Hellmouths, click here.
- If Buffy is offering to work off the H and H’s, click here.
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