Rating: R, for language and sexual situations between two women (who happen to be Buffy and Faith).Nothing too graphic, since I'm terribly shy and not so good with writing The Sex.
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for Season 5 as a whole, and large spoilers for the finale.
Disclaimers: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, and all sorts of other Hollywood big-wigs own the characters that I use in my story. I own my Game Boy Color, and that's about it."Angels Would Fall" was written by Melissa Etheridge and J. Shanks (whoever that is), and appeared on the album "Breakdown" (as near as I can tell.. this isn't an exact science).
Notes: I've been wanting to write a fic with this song for some time, so I figured that now is as good as ever. It takes place sometime in what will be season 6, and we'll just pretend that I know what's going to happen, so that the story makes sense. I'll use italics to denote lyrics. I cut a few lyrics out, but I'll consider that poetic license. This is just a setting that the song invoked in *my* mind, I don't expect anyone else to have the same reaction to it. Even so, it's nice to share my psyche once in awhile.
Website: My Fanfiction
Feedback: I like feedback. It's the nourishment I seek. Send it to moebius888@hotmail.com
The rope that's wrapped around me is cutting through my skin. And the doubts that have surrounded me are finding their way in .
It's been a week, B. Just a week. Just a week since you came back. It could've been a year, or a day, I don't think I'd have noticed. All I can notice is you. You feel it too.
That jump you took made us closer than we were before, because you felt it: you felt death. I know you don't kid yourself anymore, about that little experience the Master gave you. That wasn't death, and we both know it. But a header off a tower? Fuck, B, that's the kind of death you can't live with.
The only difference is that you got the real thing. You got a nice, peaceful rest under six feet of dirt. I had to walk around dead. I guess being a bad guy'll do that to you. I mean, I was worse than any vamp off the street. So I may as well have been dead, because being alive didn't mean much. I was dead for two years. Two fucking years. That's a long time to rot.
I think that I should say I'm sorry. Still, you threatened to kick my ass the last time I did. It can wait. You've been gone so long, there's more to do than just apologize.
I keep it close to me, like a holy man prays. In my desperate hour, it's better that way.
I started living again that night I turned myself over to the cops. I don't think many people know that. Angel did. He's the one who told me about you in thefirst place.
I've been fighting the good fight, B. Kicking some demonic ass. The Scoobies, once they realized that they wouldn't be getting a new Slayer, they came and got me. Hell, you know all this already; know how Tara helped everyone else to let me back in, telling them that she could see that I wanted to make good. Once Red got past being angry, and started listening to her girlfriend, she saw it too. And there it was, ready for me to grab: redemption.
No need for me to tell you all this. Not that you can hear me. I mean, staring at your window from your yard isn't exactly the best place to have a conversation with you. It's just me, the crickets... and Spike.
I glare at him enough, and he goes away. Being the Slayer has its advantages. Even so, I don't want to be in the same category as a deadboy with a fake soul. Just a few steps to your door, and it's gotta be easier after the knock. All downhill from there.
So I'll come by and see you again. I'll be such a very good friend. Have mercy on my soul, I will never let you know where my mind has been.
Pleasantries. I think that's what Giles would call them. You open the door, and I kill the urge to wrap you in my arms, and then we exchange pleasantries. He wonders why he's single.
Shit, but I've lost it. Running a hand through my hair as I give you a running commentary of stuff you're already doing. You always had a way with me, I guess. Making me nervous even as you offer me a soda.
The hate's almost gone from your eyes. I guess that when they told you about me saving Xander's life, and watching over Dawn, that must've helped. Or maybe you never wanted to hate me.
You turn for a second, when I mention Dawn's report card, and I can see a glimmer of it there. A glimmer, B, but it's a start.
I always manage to get lost in your eyes.
So I'll come by and see you again. I'll be just a very good friend. I will not look upon your face, I will not touch upon your grace: your ecclesiastic skin.
But I find myself again, before you catch me. The soda can feels cool in my hand, and it's something I need. It was way too hot in here for me.
I kid myself a lot, B. Lie to myself while I'm in bed at night; tell myself that there was something between us, and that if I hadn't fucked up, I'd have had a chance to see exactly what it was. I wonder if you know what it's like to realize you've got the hots for a goody-goody that would screw a vampire, but wouldn't look at you twice because you happen to have anatomy in common. Yeah right.
Maybe you just never noticed the way I look at you. Red noticed. She asked me about it one night while I was staring at your headstone.
Damnit, why do you have to have eyes like quicksand? They pull me in, and I've got no chance. When you look at me and ask me what's wrong, I'm in as deep as ever.
I've crept into your temple; I have slept upon your pew. I've dreamed of the divinity inside and out of you.
Caught in the act. Staring again. Damn. I start to mouth I'm sorry, before you cut me off with a smile.
A smile? Where the hell did that come from?
"I've had some time to think."
"I'll say."
"Shuttup, Faith, I'm trying to tell you something."
I shrug. "I've always been a visual person." That was a fucking risk. I wouldn't be surprised if you kicked me out of the house now. Literally. I can already feel your boot on my ass.
But instead of your foot on my backside, it's your fingers in my hair and your lips on mine. Maybe that wasn't hate I saw in your eyes, after all.
I want it more than truth, I can taste it on my breath.
God, it feels so right. We stumble for the couch, and I can't remember if there's anything wrong with the world. Vampires don't exist; the world's at peace, and it's just you and me trying to get our clothes off as quickly as possible without tripping over each other.
"Wait," I manage to get out between kisses.
You look at me, and it takes me a minute to remember why I was stupid enough to stop what I was doing. Then you smile again, but this time it's softer. It's really there, B, that link. I swear it is. "Bed."
I don't honestly know if I can make it that far. But I do. We do. Falling into bed together, half of our clothes already off.
Wasn't I holding a soda a few minutes ago?
Oh well, doesn't matter now. All that matters is the feel of your skin against mine.
Damn, but you're more beautiful than I ever imagined.
You trail kisses down my chin, neck, and chest, and I'm pretty sure that I died while I wasn't paying attention, 'cause this is downright fucking heavenly.
I would give my life just for a little... a little death.
It's afterwards now. I guess a running commentary is hard to give when you're busy like that. I never thought we'd have an afterwards. You and me. Faith and B. No, Faith and Buffy. I like the way it works. I like the way it sounds. I like the way you feel, resting your head on my shoulder with my arms wrapped around you. Life doesn't get much better than this.
"Faith."
I'll have to be a very good friend. If I whisper they will know.
"Sure, that makes sense." I mean, why would you want anyone to know you just fucked the psycho Slayer? yes"> Shit, B, I thought there was something there between us. I thought this was something special.
I can't get out of bed fast enough. Where the Hell are my clothes? God damnit.
I'll just turn around and go. You will never know my sin.
I'm at the door, ready to jet, but in my mind I just fall to my knees and cry.
"That's not what I meant. Time."
You talk differently now. Like you don't want to waste time with words. I know how that goes.
"I told you I've had time to think. "
"Yeah."
"I showed you what I was thinking about."
To that, I shrug. But I can't help the grin that breaks out on my face.
"Then why am I alone in bed?"
Good question.
Angels never come down. There's no one here they'd want to hang around. But if they knew, if they knew you at all, then one by one the angels, angels would fall.