Author: Astarte
Translator:lilyme
Title: Strawberry and Chocolate
Rating:mild NC-17
Part: 2/2
Spoiler: BtVS 7x18 Dirty Girls; and yet again it's Halloween in Sunnydale. The First Evil is in a holding pattern and Caleb takes his time getting to Hellmouth-central.
Summary:On Halloween, the boundaries between life and death blur, or in other words, Faith's boring night at the Bronze takes an unexpected turn.
Main Characters/Pairings: Faith/Willow, Tara/Willow, Friendship Buffy/Faith
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. Neither do I own this story, I just translated it with the permission of the author Astarte.'Angel' belongs to Sarah McLachlan, of course.
Note:As I said, I just translated it. I thought it's a very good story, and since there are way too few Faith/Willow-centric stories out there, I decided to enrichen the English-speaking fanfic-world with just another Fillow-fic ;) I think the translation should be pretty understandable now. If not, blame it on my British, American and Australian betas (I had I check thrice) :P
Feedback:If you want to give me feedback for the translation, please do. I'd really love that ;) If you want to give feedback to the author of the story (Astarte), then use the mail address I gave you above; she'd be happy to hear from you.
Another note, since it came up in the reviews and I forgot to mention it: The story is originally in German ;)

In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear

Faith is standing in her old motel room, the walk had been a blurred mist and she doesn't really know what had led her here. The dark room doesn't hold good memories for her, only memories of isolation and of the feeling that she isn't good enough. That she is not welcome. An outsider that can't handle her role and therefore lashes out.

The past years made her grow up; she has come to like her hard and rough edges and rounded them down to the outside observer. She doesn't have to put other people's noses out of joint anymore, only to feel noticed by them. She doesn't have to box ears anymore, just to make herself heard. Doesn't have to hold knives to people's throats, simply to get them to shut up.

She thinks her moods through, before she gives in to them.

She is not one of those whiny girls, never had been.

But the desire to simply throw herself on the dirty sheets and weep freely is raging for dominance inside her body and she tries to fight it. Fight for her composure; and she isn't a spiritual medium, the ‚Ghost – Message from Tara'-crap isn't her fricking thing either.

And she is torn between the desire to scream and the desire to curl up into a little ball and wait until those unfamiliar emotions finally leave her. Leave her and her hard-earned peace alone. Maybe it would be convenient to look up an exorcist, if she found one around here.

That is not why she was in Sunnydale, to be involved in a war with herself and yes, it was nightmarish to find this town so quiet. Streets deserted, houses abandoned and maybe, for the first time in this town's history, the inhabitants were on the run.

Surprisingly enough, the demons as well. Now she understands why Willow had asked her to come here. Insisted so staunchly on her presence. The end is near, she can feel it in her bones.

An indefinable feeling of danger and death.

It is Halloween and the streets are devoid of life, no ‚Trick or Treat' from children or

teens that are strolling around. Nobody put any efforts into elaborate or creepy costumes, because the dread is actually in the air. Equaling a calamitous mist that permeates everything. It's those little things that Faith is only beginning to notice. That compose and make the threat more real.

And slowly she sits down on the bed, the bedsprings still creak as they used to. The motel is as empty as the streets that she has passed, the manager is on the retreat together with the rest of the good little sheep. On their quest for redemption and escape of the impending catastrophe, and Faith feels jaded.

Not sure if she'll stay for the right reasons.

The door opens soundlessly and Willow sneaks inside, like a ghost, and Faith grins at the thought, looks at her. Red is nervous and at the same time as calm as she had been before. A strange combination. Finally, calm, "How did you find me?"

She gives her a little, mysterious smile, "We're still connected through the spell. Even if the connection is weaker now, it's still there. I just had to concentrate and voilà, here I am."

The echo doesn't just resound inside of her, in her counterpart as well and Faith asks herself, how it feels like to be able to make peace and say goodbye. If it makes it easier or even sadder.

Strangely enough, their silence feels comfortable, minutes tick away before Faith breaks it carefully, "This quietness is creepy; even in LA the streets were demon-infested that time with the never-ending night. The rats are leaving the sinking ship and that oughta scare us."

"We all know how it'll turn out." No stutter, no babble, and equally as little dejectedness.

"Do we?" Faith looks at Willow attentively.

"Yep, we fight the evil, just like we always do." The courage is not superimposed, it's real and this surprises her nonetheless. The little wallflower has stepped out of the slayer's shadow and has grown up to be a self-assured, livewire wicca. Whenthe chips are down

"And we learn to live with those losses that are inevitable?" She doesn't know why she feels this dejectedness inside of her, blames it on the lingering presence of Tara and Willow in her and the scene that unfolded in front of her eyes.

The one that is still playing inside her head.

"She has finally found her peace and so did." Willow pushes herself off of the door, approaches her and comes to a halt in front of her. "That's what makes it easier, even if it will never stop hurting, she has her place in my heart, and now in yours too."

She looks up surprised. "The transmigration of souls always leaves traces behind, Faith. It is easier, if you don't fight it, if you accept it instead and learn to see the positive sides of it."

"That sounds pretty New-Age-y, maybe too soft boiled to be true, Red. You don't simply forget metal that has drilled its way through your heart." She emphasizes her point with a dismissive snap of her fingers.

And Willow hesitantly leans down to her, gently embraces her chin with her fingers, lifts her face and repeats the gesture that connected her to Tara in a modified way "Then remember."

The lips are on hers, soft and with the taste of ripe strawberries.

Sweet and luscious, enticing and Faith lets herself fall into the kiss, with a desperation that isn't as unfamiliar to her as she wants it to be. Tenderness is something that she had always been afraid of, and she tries to dig deeper. Find the truth underneath. And she knows that the love in it isn't meant for her, but for the part of Tara that is lingering inside of her, but it feels right nonetheless. She still absorbs it, like a desert that had been dried out and had lain idle long enough; a desert whose earth yearns for moisture.

The heat radiates from her and Willow's mouth cools hers, analizes lust into need and demand into desire. Opens under her onrush and her tongue springs into wet darkness and velvety warmth. Explores it and her conquest gets beaten back gently, parried and used against her, until her breath comes out jerkingly and her body is shaking.

On her quest for support, for security, her hands come to rest on Willow's soft cheeks. Faith sinks back on the bed and Willow follows her without coercion. The weight rests on her briefly before her hands find the bare thighs, caress and rub them. Explore the hem of the skirt, lift it up and disappear under it. The kiss still continues and it gets harder to separate the emotions from one another. It doesn't seem important, which belong to her and which to Tara, as long as they keep getting stronger.

The fingers trace the contours of her panties. Tender and infatuating.

Strawberry limes. The tipsiness is there unannounced and Faith feels intoxicated.

You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there

Faith is pretty sure that Willow is using magic; she doesn't know when the redhead had gotten rid of her clothes and she is extremely certain that the witch hadn't stopped kissing her and had been way too busy to do exactly that to actually take care of the clothes too. But she is too captivated in her sensations to really object to this unfair treatment.

A beautiful, naked woman on top of her isn't really what she has to fight with hands and feet. As long as things keep getting simpler, her feelings more familiar. Lust, arousal and expectations are growing inside of her. Along with something unfamiliar.

Her moans are suppressed, but, damn, this feels good.

Just like the lips that are gliding over her throat and the hand that fiddles around with her buttons. Suddenly there is the urgency, Faith yanks on her blouse and Willow on her skirt. Then she is equally naked and the dirty sheets stir up dust as she changes their position and lays on Willow. Their thighs are intertwined tightly, just like the rest of their bodies.

It is not close enough, but too close at the same time – since she wants to know how her breasts taste, and her navel and her hip bone and the woman herself. The movements of her hands are erratic and a little rough, but Willow's soft growling is spur and argument enough to give into the haste and passion.

Faith drags a wet trails across her upper body, wants to explore everything, lick it, caress it, feel it. And her hands are kneading the soft mounds and her tongue slides over the hard nipples. As flighty as a butterfly, because she still can't decide what she wants to taste first. Which spots she wants to caress and which she simply wants to devour.

Willow's hands are kneading her butt, drawing her closer, while Faith simply wants to sink into her. The flighty movements gone, she nips, sucks and nibbles until Willow's grasp eases and allows her to glide lower, over her stomach, circle the navel. She feels the hands on her back grip tighter again.

The first finger finds the wetness. And the second. Teasing and luring.

Fingernails rake over her skin and Faith groans, when they dig even deeper into her as she wanders lower. Willow's legs are parting further in anticipation. Her name urging from her lips and Faith lets her tongue circle the bundle of nerves and makes Willow's hips tremble. Briefly she loses her hold, grips the hip bone to stabilize herself and her counterpart again.

The taste is sweeter than she remembers it, and again the comparison to strawberry limes comes to mind, strawberry limes with a hint of lemon, and she wonders if she

could drink herself into delirium on this and if Willow would let her. She delves deeper into her senses and her cognition.

Likes what she finds on her treasure hunt.

The whimper, as she lets the tip of her tongue glide over the pearl. The undefined sound, when she circles it leisurely and moves her fingers in a faster rhythm. The suppressed hiss, when she moves away from the most erogenous spot and devotes her attention to the rest. But she likes the low groaning much better. And thus she stops the exploration of the folds and again concentrates on the spot that turns Willow's breathing into panting and makes her thrust her hips against her jerkingly.

The bed springs squeaking loudly a protesting rhythm.

Faith lets herself be carried away by the vibrations that rumble through the body beneath her, and it is still her name that is coming from Willow's lips, sounding like a religious exclamation and Faith has mercy, lets her come.

Lets her falls and drowns the following word with a hard kiss.

She doesn't even know herself how she has minimized the distance this quickly, could give up her comfy position this easily. Maybe it is the slayer inside of her. Or her

hunting instinct. Or her self-protection. But she needs to regain her inner peace tonight.

She doesn't want to hear a single word that she can't ever again erase from her memory.

This moment belongs to her; even if she probably doesn't hold the emotions, this name has no use here. Transmigration can reflect an impression, but not the person itself. Not the lover. Not in flesh and blood and a calm, wise spirit. Because Faith still doesn't know if she would make Willow pay, if she heard her scream something else than her own name tonight.

And her fingers travel calmingly through the velvety hair as she tastes the sweat on Willow's lips and the sweet satisfaction, feels the light shiver and the heat of the body beneath her. The softness. She had actually thought that this had been only an emergency solution for her time in prison, but this here feels more intimate.

The hands on her shoulder that are somewhere between tranquil and possessive.

The tongue that explores her mouth lazily.

And suddenly she is beneath Willow and this one grins a sensuous smile with glowing cheeks. Without difficulty her fingers find the spot that makes adrenaline shoot through Faith's body, alongside endorphins and an un-lady-like "Fuck!"

"Not yet, but soon."

Willow's smile shows a little more than just a hint of mischief and Faith tries to comprehend if the redhead is really trying some kind of Dirty Talk with her or is simply in an anodyne mood after her orgasm. It is hard to hold onto that thought as the fingers execute this rough back and forth that makes her and her hips go nuts.

"How soon?" She really didn't want to ask that through gritted teeth, but there the question is, out in the open and Willow braces her head against her hand nonchalantly and grins at her. "If you're thinking about asking me if I've been a good girl, then I can tell you right now – it's not Christmas, it's Halloween, Red."

That was more like her and Faith grins contently until Willow lowers her head and encloses her dark areola briefly, firmly with her teeth, not really a bite, but the shock that shoots through her body is electrifying. Before Red straightens herself up again and she grits her teeth.

"That wasn't my plan." The content smile has returned stronger, glows above her in the dark motel room and approaches her, just like the rest of Red's body. A thigh rubs her inner thigh idly, hips and fingers draw gentle patterns on her skin. Lips glide over her neck, up to her ear.

"It's Halloween, which means 'Trick or Treat', and you taste like white chocolate." The voice is captivating, demands a tender reply that is momentarily lost on Faith. Because the tongue sashays down her throat, sparks heat; a long drawn-out lick, that reminds her of summer's heat and ice cream. Chocolate was yummy. Right? Strawberries and chocolate were a good combination. One that –

Her halfway though-out reply dies under a sharp intake of breath, because Red has picked up a different, a faster rhythm and the sucking on her breast is directly connected to it. Her muscles feel like ice in the sunshine.

Almost fluid. Flowing. Like instinctive movements.

And then the lips leave her breast and Faith squirms anxiously due to the distinct slowness. Feels Willow on her navel and soon after on her pubic bone and her fingers slide deeply into her, make room for her eager tongue and Faith's hands clutch the hair, want something to hold on to, something that anchors her here, while she swings out to that place on the abyss.

So close to falling as she dangles, swings in unison with the tongue and the fingers.

The even pressure. Until Willow intensifies it just a little bit more to send her flying. For a long time, and she still thinks that this is pure magic, because stars and sunups are reflected on the ceiling, are blinding her. And she doesn't know if the thought is coming from Tara, because she screams Red's name with a conviction and certainty that she actually shouldn't possess.


So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back

Faith isn't sure when she had fallen asleep; an act that for most people is normal after-really-good-sex behavior, but it is alien to her and almost enough to drive her out of bed with one single leap, when she is finally fully awake. Sometime between her post-orgasm-bliss and Red's even caresses on her thigh she had nodded off, and unlike her, Willow didn't give up her comfortable position. Is resting her head on her thigh, with her hand on her breast. The hair shines reddish and she begins to untangle it, and to think.

She feels that this is the reason why she had come here. To think.

She had made some very important decisions in this room. Some had been good, some less good and she doesn't know, if she is going to regret the decision that is beginning to loom within her. But it is the right one and she has sworn to herself that she wouldn't allow herself another slip. Wouldn't chase after unrealizeabledreams and chafe on the attempt to make those come true, destroy herself. Only to let herself be consumed by her own bitterness and rage in the process.

Faith has sworn off the hatred and coldness, but not her self-protection.

Willow is not the kind of woman that can hold her, and what had happened in this room is of no importance. Mystical confusion, emotions gone haywire and the end of the world. Yet again. Faith is not that naive to excuse the happenings with a sexual act of necessity because this night is way too clear in her memory. She isn't interested in various, thrown-out hit-ons. This, right here, is something special. But nothing that she should repeat. Can repeat.

For her own sake, and for Willow's. They aren't sweet. Neither of them.

They are dark and blood red in their rage. Out of control.

She still doesn't like Kennedy, but Willow had made the right decision, had chosen the right replacement, the benign one and Faith understands this. Thinks that she maybe understands too much and that she doesn't like that part of Tara. Not permanently, because silent resignation has never resembled her being and can never be unisono with the slayer's nature.

Because she stands up against a lot of principles in her life, and she doesn't even have that many.

But she doesn't want to lose the few that she has newly acquired.

"Do you think that she made love to you?"

The voice is soft and Tara emerges out of the darkest corner of the room, steps into the

diffuse shimmer of the street lamp. She still radiates warmth and closeness. Delicacy, but Faith isn't as blind and self-involved as to classify this as flimsy fragility.

But that this question had come from her of all people is funny and Faith grins at her.

"No, I think she made love with that part of you that she could reach."

And the figure approaches them, comes to a stop at the level of Willow's head, the look at her lover contains unforeseen longing and Faith understands that Tara's acceptance of her own destiny doesn't change the fact that it is equally as painful for her as it is for Red.

Tara sits down but the growl of the bed doesn't come, because they have brought up the boundaries again. She studies the face of her lover with an intensity that is torturous and consuming. It dawns on Faith that this is their unvarnished farewell for a very long time and automatically she stops her caressings of the red hair.

Tara sounds absent when she finally breaks the silence. "It doesn't look good for you two."

"There is no ‚Us two'!" And Tara pins her down with a look that awakens in her the desire to squirm. "You know what she did after your death and if I had been there, I would've rooted for her with bobbles and cheerleading outfit, if necessary, just to make her go through with her vengeance campaign."

"You would have stopped her after Warren, Faith, you wouldn't have let her isolate herself and get lost in her bloodlust. Because now you understand the difference between vengeance and evil. Just like you had understood it for a very long time at that point. And I think that she would have listened to you, because you wouldn't have made her focus on a guilty conscience or presented her with her failure. She would have known who to turn to, without any second thought. A person that helps her to go through with this and provide the proper excuses right after.

And Faith is silent, because she doesn't know if she can agree to this statement or not. Because, in contrast to Tara, she doesn't know Willow well enough.

And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lie
That you make up for all that you lack

Finally, calmly, from Tara, "You want to give this here up, why? Isn't it the missed chances that haunt you, the chances that you reject out of pride and fear of messing up?

Her eyes narrow, "How long, exactly, have you been at the Bronze tonight?"

Tara smiles mischievously, "Does it matter?"

"Maybe. But maybe not. But it's in any case impolite to listen in on other people's conversations, for ghosts as well. At least it should be."

"No matter how insightful those are? I don't think so."

After that Faith shrugs, "Look, Tara, this was just sex, nothing more to it. And we're both old enough to accept it as just this and go on with our lives. Without complications or difficulties."

"You're about to face an apocalypse and are afraid of a commitment? I find that very interesting." The look alters between curiosity and empathy. "You think that you have thwarted the first evil's plans today in a way tonight that will have consequences. For all of you?"

"That's why I think my approach to this is even smarter."

"I'd call it cowardice." Faith is tempted to find out, if you really aren't able to hurt ghosts physically, but, with effort, she brings her emotions under control. „You blame the resignation in you on me, but it has nothing to do with my knowledge. I have never been afraid of love, even if I have been afraid of rejection, Faith."

Bitchy, "Isn't it inappropriate to play matchmaker for your girlfriend, Tara?"

This one lets out a soft laugh, "No, it would be inappropriate, if I were still among the living, but given this situation, it is just fair. You both are too hurt, too proud and too stubborn to come to the obvious conclusion. To see it."

Faith is silent and Tara, again, lets her eyes sink to the sleeping Willow and she hadn't even noticed it, but she had started to twist the hair between her fingers again. And now she wonders why she doesn't have the urge to cut out the gesture this time.

"It wasn't all puppies and roses before I died. Did you know that we had been separated for about three months before the bullet hit me? Because of the magic that she couldn't live without? She manipulated me, made me forget our arguments and forced her will on me. Of course, I had loved her still. A wise man once said; 'The heart has reasons that rationality doesn't know about.' And it is not always wise to love her, but it is too bitter, too sweet, to resist it for long."

"Do thought-reading, the ultimate anthology of quotations and wisdom belong to the advantages of afterlife? Plus, a matchmaker should praise the advantages of a person, and not point out the flaws." The sarcasm is weak, even to her own ears and Tara's smirk is charitable. Why could she smile this much, with her life being over and her honey being left here on earth?

She answers the unasked question, „To even give it a shot, you have to know that she isn't flawless in a relationship. I want Willow to be happy again. I know that you deserve to be happy, as well. And I think that you two could be happy together, that's all I need to know."

The silence sinks onto the room again and it lasts until the sky turns gray. Both of them watch over Willow's peaceful sleep in a strange agreement. And maybe she has agreed to a pact with Tara in the time that passes until this one gets up and presses her lips gently to Willow's forehead.

Then approaches her and repeats the gesture. Little more than a breath of air.

"I would have loved to get to know you better in my life, Faith." She nods, she feels the same, and that Tara's last words had been directed at her somehow makes it easier.

Conciliates her with the outsider inside of her. "Goodbye."

And then she is alone with Willow. Tara's ghost is gone.

Maybe for the first time in this slowly ending night.

Willow awakens shortly after Tara's departure and Faith watches the redhead attentively, waits for the shock. The horror of finding her in her bed. But all she gets is a sleepy smile while Willow changes her position, and, as if it goes without saying, crawls into her arms and pulls the dirty blanket over them both. She hears a mumbled "One more hour, 'kay?"

She nods and embraces her tighter.

Sometime in the last hours she had lost the feeling in her leg and now it returns

tingling, along with the blood circulation and Faith cusses inwardly, shakes her leg half-heartedly. She hears a chuckle against her chest and wonders when people had lost the respect for her and had begun to make her into a constant item of their weird sense of humor. And why it doesn't bother her when these people are Tara or Willow.

Mockingly, "If your brain weren't that ginormous, I wouldn't have that problem right now, Red."

"But a shrinkhead is less attractive, not to mention less entertaining."

Understanding, "Well, that's true."

She wonders when her fascination with Willow's hair will eventually let up. Why she has to touch it. Letting the soft strands glide through her fingers, just to remind herself that this is real. Before she understands that Willow deserves more and that Tara possesses too much compassion to see the obvious clearly.

That this one already has someone in her life and that it can't work out.

Her thoughts are caught in the hamster wheel of good intentions, even if this doesn't bring her any closer to the solution. But it can keep her occupied still. It doesn't. After all she isn't known for her intelligence and hopefully Willow is smart enough for both of them to find the right arguments for why this can't work out; at the moment she is too tired for this sort of thoughts.

Because it's still okay to fall asleep next to her.

For only a short moment. Or two. Before the world pulls them back in.

It don't make no difference
Escaping one last time
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

Fini – Strawberry and Chocolate