Faith
She makes me high. There's no other way to describe it. Out here with her, in the dark of the night, working as one. Chosen ones. Those moments in between the staking make me crazy. They're silent, but buzzing with this crazy energy. It's sexual. It's powerful. It's absolutely delicious. Maybe it's the rush that comes along with playing God. Or maybe it's the smell of her shampoo as she tumbles past me mid-fight. It could be the adrenaline left over from battle. Or maybe it's the moment when our eyes meet, after the cloud of dust between us falls to our feet. Inexplicitly drawn. Connected. Her gaze locks with mine a bit longer than it should before she's all back to business. Gotta patrol, ya know. God forbid we take a break to make out or something. Ha, kidding. Just sayin though, I wouldn't say no. The hardest part is always waiting for the end. Because when all is slayed and done, she walks me home. She doesn't have to, she knows I'm more than capable. It's really nice of her though. No one's ever done anything like that for me before. We always talk a bit, walking slow. I make some stupid ass jokes. She acts like they're not funny but her laugh says otherwise. She talks a lot about random shit, I love listening to it all. The moment when we reach my door though, she always hesitates. Like she should stay awhile, or hug me, or something. Maybe that's just what I want to happen. Her nervousness kills me. She's so damn cute. I think for a second that maybe she feels for me what I feel for her. I'm too much of a pussy to make a move though. I know I put on a big flirt act, but when I actually feel something, I'm useless. So I always push her shoulder, tell her to get on home, I'll see her tomorrow. Everything's five by five, whatever. Close the door before she can say anything. As if she's going to say anything. She's supposed to be the mature one out of us. So if she felt something, she'd say something, right? I mean, it's not my place. I don't want to look like a loser. I've been called that enough times in my life, and I never want to hear it from her. It'd kill me. So I guess I'll just do what I always do. Rest my hand on the door. Wait until walks away, then sneak back out the door again to trail her. No way I'd ever let her walk home alone. People like her deserve to never be alone.
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Buffy
I never really thought about girls in that way before but I've started now that I've met her. Because I met her. It's really only her. She's so primal, so raw. Everything's out on the table with her, no games. Kind of refreshing, actually. I see it in the way she fights, too. Headstrong, unpredictable, uncalculated. She's wild and free, and when I'm here with her, she takes me along. I'd never really looked forward to patrol until she came around. Now it's my favorite thing. I love the dumb comments she makes. Her innuendo laced jokes that I brush off, laughing as she puts her arm around my shoulder in a playful hug. I'll never tell her that those jokes make my heart race in a way vampires never could. When we slay together, we're a perfect team. I know I can handle myself, but I feel stronger somehow when I fight with her. I feel like for all the show she puts on, she has my back when it matters most. And I tell her that. I tell her she's a great fighter. That I think her moves are totally stellar. And when it's quiet, and we're walking slowly and all you can hear is the quiet tap of boots and rustle of leather, I think about what I'd really like to tell her. How there's a part of me that's falling for her, but it's a part she can never have. Because I'm scared and young, unsure and stubborn. She'd think I'm such a weirdo if I told her I sometimes purposely "trip" over her mid-fight just to feel her strong arms lift me off of her. She'd laugh in my face, I can just see her. "Blondie's fallin, for me, hey? 's freakin hilarious." Yeah, she'll never know. All we'll ever have is patrol. Slaying vampires. Moments alone in the dead of night, the only ones in all the world with this bestowed destiny. At least we'll always have that connecting us. And those walks home. Every night I offer to walk her home. It's my way of showing that I care. That I want to protect her. Stuff I could never say outright. I can talk about random stuff for hours, but I never really was good at talking about serious feelings. I guess we both have that in common. It's never more clear whenever we reach her place. There's always this moment. This soft, quiet moment. Like this little pocket in time were I feel like I should just blurt out my feelings for her and kiss her or something crazy like that. But it always passes just as soon as it arrives, and she's already closed the door before I can do anything. I always take too long. Thinking. I wish she'd just say something. She's the one who lives with no regrets. She has to feel what I feel. Why doesn't she just say something? But she never does. Usually I lean my head on her closed door for just a moment, imagining that she's doing the same on the other side. Then I turn to leave, already anticipating our next night together. As I walk home I imagine that she's walking right next to me, tugging at my jacket as she teases me. Wishing she was here with me. Watching over me. Wanting me. Like I want her. But we'll never say it. We'll never be.