Disclaimer: I own nothing of any consequence. Buffy, Faith, and all the other folks, places, and stories that I mention are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and a slew of others.
Spoilers: Not really.
Notes: This branches off from canon after "This Years Girls". Faith didn't switch bodieswith Buffy, stayed in Sunnydale, and the rest of the plotlines happen as usual. Except for "The Body" and the end of Season 5, 'cause I like having Joyce around and I need Buffy in order to have an interesting story. Sooooooo, this takes place between seasons 5 and 6. The companion/sequel is "Come Home to Me".
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"Naming is a difficult and time consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights, who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name." - Jeanette Winterson, "Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit"
Another one of those dancing nights, where the sweat pours off me in rivers and the pounding beat of the bass coming up through the floor matches the rhythm of my heart. There's nothing here but me and the music and the hundred other bodies moving like wraiths across the black-lit dance floor.
It's a night for forgetting.
There are, maybe, six or seven sweaty guys pressing themselves towards me. Probably a few sweaty women, too. This is a place where the daylight doesn't matter, and what we do here means nothing. In this club, we take a look at the rules and then we smile and turn away. There's no room for rules in a place where the music is a tangible force, and it's pushing us all together into one, big, sweat covered organism.
This is a wild place.
The music changes, and the thrum-thrumming of the old song changes to a low down deep humming. The kind that gets you all hot and bothered, 'cause the music settles low in your belly. The DJ must be on something tonight, they don't usually play stuff like this. We usually get the music of aggression: the way for us to use our feet to pound out our daily frustrations. This is the music of sex, and we all know it as we change the movement of our bodies to match it.
Tonight is a wild night.
I pull someone towards me. She's short, and blonde, and reminds me of what I came here to forget. Still, I sidle up to her body and we become a small part of the whole, with my thigh between her legs and our hips grinding out the tempo of the song. We move together, bodies slick with the fruits of our labors on the dance floor, and she nips quickly at my neck. I feel the hint of her tongue between her teeth, pressing against my pulse-point, and I look down at her.
Faith.
I hear my name, coming across in the sharp synthesizer sound, and I pull away from the blonde. She looks at me for a minute, curious, her eyes full of desire. There's something feral in her eyes, and I imagine what I must've looked like before a conquest. I reach a hand up and there's blood on my neck. Just a bit, but enough. She grins at me. She's hot. Too hot for death, and I know she's not the sort I'd have to introduce to my stake.
Still, the idea unnerves me and kills the mood, and as the song shifts from sex back to aggression, I make a play for the door.
She's outside.
I should've known it. She looks at me for a second; with her head tipped slightly to the right, and a fire burning way back in her green eyes. Then she notices that there's blood on my neck, and her expression changes. I shrug softly and move towards her, my body cooling quickly in the dry night air. There's still a bit of music settled low in my belly, and I suddenly don't want to forget anymore.
"You called?"
Her expression changes again. The planes on her face have always been perfect for showing emotion. I'm not used to the happy ones yet, but I think this is something like acceptance. Or content. Either way, it's not rage, and I'm cool with that. But I *do* know that it was her voice carrying to me over the waves of music, and I know that she was the one calling me out. Calling me home. Away from abandon, and towards something else.
"You heard."
She steps into me then. Into my embrace. Her skin feels so hot against mine, even though I know I couldn't have cooled down that fast. She's the perfect height to fit into me, just right, with her lips resting against my neck and her breath coming out warm onto my flesh. I feel the sweet softness of her lips, kissing the small wound on my throat.
"I've been listening for awhile, B. I'm glad I finally heard."
She tightens her embrace around me, and time stops for a second as I absorb the perfection of the moment. Then it starts back up again, and she pulls me towards my bike and towards the fulfillment of an unspoken promise. The two of us, though, don't need to speak. There's something there that goes beyond words, and words tie us down. We use as few as possible tonight, there'll be time for words later.
"Please."
I could never deny her. There's a storm building in the distance, and the low rumbling of thunder has already started. Inside us, there's another rumbling. It's a short ride to my place, but the minutes seem like hours seem like days. We tumble through the door finally, just as the first crack of thunder splits the night. I look outside as the rain starts falling.
"Faith."
I'm falling, too. I have been for two years. Now the sound of my name lifts me up and shows me that I'm not alone. Not anymore. Not ever again. The way her lips curl around it and the corners of her mouth twist up at the end. She says my name in the way it was meant to be said, and there's nothing for me to do but look her in the eyes and call *her* home, too.
"Buffy."
It's as thought I've never said her name before. She looks at me, and smiles, and there are tears in her eyes. I don't think that I'll ever be able to call her B again. I guess that's my entry fee. I'll willingly pay it. Anything to feel her like this. So close to me, part of me, even as she stands six feet away. As of tonight, there's only us.
As of tonight, I'm home.
Spoilers: Not really.
Notes: This branches off from canon after "This Years Girls". Faith didn't switch bodieswith Buffy, stayed in Sunnydale, and the rest of the plotlines happen as usual. Except for "The Body" and the end of Season 5, 'cause I like having Joyce around and I need Buffy in order to have an interesting story. Sooooooo, this takes place between seasons 5 and 6. The companion/sequel is "Come Home to Me".
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Naming is a difficult and time consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights, who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name." - Jeanette Winterson, "Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit"
Another one of those dancing nights, where the sweat pours off me in rivers and the pounding beat of the bass coming up through the floor matches the rhythm of my heart. There's nothing here but me and the music and the hundred other bodies moving like wraiths across the black-lit dance floor.
It's a night for forgetting.
There are, maybe, six or seven sweaty guys pressing themselves towards me. Probably a few sweaty women, too. This is a place where the daylight doesn't matter, and what we do here means nothing. In this club, we take a look at the rules and then we smile and turn away. There's no room for rules in a place where the music is a tangible force, and it's pushing us all together into one, big, sweat covered organism.
This is a wild place.
The music changes, and the thrum-thrumming of the old song changes to a low down deep humming. The kind that gets you all hot and bothered, 'cause the music settles low in your belly. The DJ must be on something tonight, they don't usually play stuff like this. We usually get the music of aggression: the way for us to use our feet to pound out our daily frustrations. This is the music of sex, and we all know it as we change the movement of our bodies to match it.
Tonight is a wild night.
I pull someone towards me. She's short, and blonde, and reminds me of what I came here to forget. Still, I sidle up to her body and we become a small part of the whole, with my thigh between her legs and our hips grinding out the tempo of the song. We move together, bodies slick with the fruits of our labors on the dance floor, and she nips quickly at my neck. I feel the hint of her tongue between her teeth, pressing against my pulse-point, and I look down at her.
Faith.
I hear my name, coming across in the sharp synthesizer sound, and I pull away from the blonde. She looks at me for a minute, curious, her eyes full of desire. There's something feral in her eyes, and I imagine what I must've looked like before a conquest. I reach a hand up and there's blood on my neck. Just a bit, but enough. She grins at me. She's hot. Too hot for death, and I know she's not the sort I'd have to introduce to my stake.
Still, the idea unnerves me and kills the mood, and as the song shifts from sex back to aggression, I make a play for the door.
She's outside.
I should've known it. She looks at me for a second; with her head tipped slightly to the right, and a fire burning way back in her green eyes. Then she notices that there's blood on my neck, and her expression changes. I shrug softly and move towards her, my body cooling quickly in the dry night air. There's still a bit of music settled low in my belly, and I suddenly don't want to forget anymore.
"You called?"
Her expression changes again. The planes on her face have always been perfect for showing emotion. I'm not used to the happy ones yet, but I think this is something like acceptance. Or content. Either way, it's not rage, and I'm cool with that. But I *do* know that it was her voice carrying to me over the waves of music, and I know that she was the one calling me out. Calling me home. Away from abandon, and towards something else.
"You heard."
She steps into me then. Into my embrace. Her skin feels so hot against mine, even though I know I couldn't have cooled down that fast. She's the perfect height to fit into me, just right, with her lips resting against my neck and her breath coming out warm onto my flesh. I feel the sweet softness of her lips, kissing the small wound on my throat.
"I've been listening for awhile, B. I'm glad I finally heard."
She tightens her embrace around me, and time stops for a second as I absorb the perfection of the moment. Then it starts back up again, and she pulls me towards my bike and towards the fulfillment of an unspoken promise. The two of us, though, don't need to speak. There's something there that goes beyond words, and words tie us down. We use as few as possible tonight, there'll be time for words later.
"Please."
I could never deny her. There's a storm building in the distance, and the low rumbling of thunder has already started. Inside us, there's another rumbling. It's a short ride to my place, but the minutes seem like hours seem like days. We tumble through the door finally, just as the first crack of thunder splits the night. I look outside as the rain starts falling.
"Faith."
I'm falling, too. I have been for two years. Now the sound of my name lifts me up and shows me that I'm not alone. Not anymore. Not ever again. The way her lips curl around it and the corners of her mouth twist up at the end. She says my name in the way it was meant to be said, and there's nothing for me to do but look her in the eyes and call *her* home, too.
"Buffy."
It's as thought I've never said her name before. She looks at me, and smiles, and there are tears in her eyes. I don't think that I'll ever be able to call her B again. I guess that's my entry fee. I'll willingly pay it. Anything to feel her like this. So close to me, part of me, even as she stands six feet away. As of tonight, there's only us.
As of tonight, I'm home.