Title: She Has No Time
Fandom: Vampire Diaries/BTVS/ATS
Pairing: Damon/Faith
Word Count: 1,026
Prompt: I said the morning, it isn't your time. Barefoot naked, I can see your lines. For stainofmylove
Faith lay back in the black satin sheets and watched the smoke from her cigarette curl up lazily in the air. The moon was waning in the velvety sky outside, lighting the bedroom with its silvery rays. Damon was downstairs drinking himself into a stupor. Trying to forget about the little brother and friends he'd lost last year, just before he met her.
She squinted up at the ceiling and forced herself to ignore the thundering of her heart in her chest and the rush of blood in her ears. She was Faith Lehane, Vampire Slayer, the.
She did not fear anything. That's why she let this different breed of vampire that was Damon Salvatore believe he was compelling her to let him drink her blood.
The truth was she let him because she needed to lick her wounds, and for some reason all the Big Bads that a veteran slayer like Faith could slay seemed to have gone underground. As if some global memo had been passed around, warning them to hide from the wrath of the Dark Slayer betrayed.
She lit another cigarette and crumpled the empty packet. She wasn't sad, mad or bad anymore. She was just grieving. It was normal to grieve when all you had ever known of friends and family (Angel, Buffy, Giles and Spike) upped and died on you. Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes. They upped and died on you in a massive kamikaze mission to save the world, taking the Big Bad with them so there was nothing left for you to stab and kill yourself better. Fuckers.
According to Damon's compulsion confession sessions, the shit-storm that had hit Damon's home town, Mystic Falls, had happened at the same time Faith's world was irreparably destroyed. Not that he knew about that.
Damon was coming up the stairs, so Faith stubbed her cigarette out and rolled over pretending she was asleep. He pushed the door open and stared at the naked lithe brunette in his bed. He was so drunk even his vampire vision was blurry. Shuffling over to the bed, Damon shrugged off his dressing gown and slid into the cool satin sheets. Spooning Faith he kissed her neck, pressing his lips against the pulse that beat steadily there. The marks from when he'd bit her earlier were already healing.
Damon tried not to think of human Caroline who hadn't healed as fast as Faith. He tried desperately not to think of Elena, Katherine, Alaric, Vampire Caroline, Liz and his little brother, Stefan. Fuck, he even tried not to think of Bonnie and how none of them were here anymore. Neither of them noticed the tears that trickled out of their closed lids.
As the sun rose above the Mediterranean Sea, Faith stretched languorously in the sheets. Damon was lying next to her, quietly watching her with admiration and affection in his eyes.
Faith's grin was decidedly feral, her Slayer senses were heightened, the in-built instinct to Slay all things evil coiled in her muscles like a snake ready to strike.
One week after Angel and Co had betrayed Faith's trust and died on her, she had met Damon. He was a vampire, with no soul, that walked in the sunlight. And he was grieving. Yet he was the first and only person who had managed to make her smile, to make her want to have fun again. The only person that was hurting as much as she was, who had known that the only thing to do was put thousands of miles between the last venue of the, Apocalypse.
Damon rolled out of bed and padded out of the bedroom naked.
Faith turned over to look out the French windows, the breeze coming in from the sea fluttering the flimsy voile curtains. In the golden rays of the Greek sun Faith felt strong and confident again.
Today was the day she was going to stake Damon Salvatore.
She had never hated herself and her calling so much that she would allow a vampire to use her as a chew toy. This had gone on for too long, and there was no bigger picture. He wasn't some new Big Bad. He was a soulless being that used her body as a juice box. Not realising that half the reason he got so drunk at night was the heady mix of Slayer blood and alcohol.
Faith pushed the sheets back and picked up the latest frothy piece of lingerie Damon had bought her, it had last exactly 45 seconds on her last night.
Sliding the straps up her shoulders, Faith worked her fingers under the mattress and pulled out a bronzed stake. Buffy's bronzed stake, Mr. Pointy. Her fingers clenched around the stake with painful familiarity. Something in her chest seized as she sat back on the bed and slid her hand under the covers just as Damon walked into the room with breakfast.
Faith flinched as her eyes delved into his. Tearing them away from his she studied his face and noted how weary and lost he looked in the morning light. He looked just like she felt.
Damon smiled at her teasingly, as he brought the tray over to her. Tar black coffee, eggs, bacon, Greek sausage, a bowl of grapes and two brimming champagne flutes arranged artfully. There was also a muffin with a number one candle burning and a sprig of flower he called vervain in a small vase.
"Happy Anniversary Breakfast for Milady."
Faith felt her lips tug up at the corners in a genuine smile as he set the tray on the bed and kissed her lightly. The tray rattled in warning and Damon reached out a hand to steady it. He half slid, half-crawled onto the bed with a grin, picking up a couple of grapes and feeding them to her. The tension inside Faith dissipated as she playfully swatted Damon's fingertips away.
She slid Mr. Pointy under her pillow and patted Damon's side of the bed invitingly. Maybe tomorrow, when there was a little more space and a little more time between her and the things she'd lost.