This is sick
The music pounds through her body, and she relishes the feeling. It sure is sick. The whole situation is sick. Hell, she's sort of sick too.
Attention, it's time to dance
Faith completely agrees. It's time to dance. That's one reason she came out here tonight. To dance, to let herself go in the mass of bodies in the cover of darkness, let the sweat wash away her tension, let herself get carried away with the beat.
Work it like you're working a pole
Shake it 'til you're shaking the floor
Pop it like you're poppin' a cork
Don't stop, don't stop
Jerk it like you're making it choke
Break it like you're breaking a code
Drop it 'til you're taking it lower
Faith moves to the music. She appropriately writhes, twists and tosses her head. She knows that she's quite a show; the taunt muscles and glistening flesh, sweaty hair all over the place; she knows half the inhabitants of this dinky little bar are watching. They're waiting to prey, murmuring amongst each other. She can pick out a few vampires and a lot of ubergeeks that wished they were vampires. Who else would stay in a city without sun? No one normal.
This is serious
I'm delirious
So oblivious
I could dance all night
With you
With who? Wesley's sniffing around the back of the club for news of Angelus, and he wouldn't dance anyway. Faith looks around, still dancing and letting the whole world get a good look at her midriff, and spots a large man in black staring at her, watching her writhe and twist. He's looking at her, his gaze locked on her face, but in the dim light it's hard to see and she can't quite make out his face, only two dark eyes set on a pale face. Warning bells start ringing in her head, along with the beat of the music. He's coming closer, obviously weaving his way through the bodies towards her.
As long as it's funky
This rhythm just makes me high
I'm like a junkie
I could dance all night
Like a junkie. Faith's been there, done that. She remembers what it felt like when the drug hit her system, the unbalance and dizziness. She feels the same way right now as the man comes closer. The cocky walk, the way he carries himself, the fiery dark eyes- it looks like Angelus.
Work it like you're working a pole
Shake it 'til you're shaking the floor
Pop it like you're poppin' a cork
Don't stop, don't stop
Jerk it like you're making it choke
Break it like you're breaking a code
Drop it 'til you're taking it lower
He reaches her and stands in front of her, his body still in complete defiance of the beat. Faith feels the fear race through her veins along with the adrenaline. He moves his lips, but Faith can't hear the words. He smirks at her, and twirls his finger in a circle, then lightly rakes it along his neck. The message is clear:
Don't stop, don't stop
Dance for your life, Faith.
Faith reaches for the stake on her belt. But it's gone; it must have slipped out during her wild dancing. He has the upper hand; he caught her off guard and weaponless, with no quick escape route, so Faith starts to dance like she has never danced before. Now each muscle aches in protest at her wild gyrations and twists, and he watches haughtily, a cruel smile on his lips. Her eyes are locked onto his dark smoldering ones
So intoxicated
I'm so stimulated
Feels so X-rated
I could dance all night
Despite the great danger she's in, Faith feels more alive than ever. It's like drinking (not too much), but just the first few sips that perk up the senses and awaken the soul.
His gaze is no longer completely arrogant and watchful; she can make out lust as well. Great; at this rate he can rape her to death, then suck her dry of Slayer blood, and for good measure rip off a few body parts.
It's a good thing she has Slayer strength; another woman wouldn't have been able to keep on dancing this hard. If she needs to, she'll dance all night for him, because she will not die now by the hand of Angelus. She's survived too long to have it end this way: death during some slutty pop song in a cheap dive surrounded by wanna-be vampires and strangers.
As long as it's funky
This rhythm just makes me high
I'm like a junkie
I could dance all night
She wonders why he's making her dance. He gets off watching Slayers give him a show, she guesses. Or maybe he's just making her work up a sweat so she'll taste better and he can get high; she vaguely remembers Giles saying that vampires like their victims with adrenaline and fear flowing in the blood.
Work it like you're working a pole
Shake it 'til you're shaking the floor
Pop it like you're poppin' a cork
Don't stop, don't stop
Jerk it like you're making it choke
Break it like you're breaking a code
Drop it 'til you're taking it lower
I could dance all night
The dancing takes the hard edge off her fear, letting her focus on something else. It disguises her shaking, which she translates into funky moves, and gives her time to think.
Faith wonders if how she'll go. Will he choke her to death and watch her gasp for air? Or will he break every bone in her body before doing her in? Maybe there'll be a chase and he'll chase her off a high roof. He's a creative killer; she has no doubt that he'll think of something excruciatingly painful and unusual.
Everybody on the floor (let's go)
Let's get hardcore (get low)
Make my sweat pour (oh no)
Don't stop (gimme some more)
Ooh my body's yours (spank that)
Spank that back door (like that)
Drive me like a Porsche (yeah)
Suddenly, she feels a cool hand caress her bared waist. He pulls her closer and places both hands on her hips. He languidly starts to move with her, matching her frenzied pace with slow calculated moves. It's incredibly bizarre dancing with Angelus, and the touch of his hands sends chills up her spine. And in the deepest, darkest depths of her soul, it's really sexy. If she hadn't been convinced that every move might be her last, she would savor it, and sink into his arms. She's always lusted after Angel and suspected that he wanted her too, but she's never had any confirmation.
His cruel grin reminds her that this isn't Angel that wants her now, it's Angelus. And one of his hands is making its way to her neck...
I could dance all night
Can we take this party higher?
Now just put your hands to the sky and
Clap, clap, clap, clap
She distantly hears someone calling her voice in the distance. But she can't turn or respond; nothing matters more than to keep on dancing, to keep her eyes on her partner, pray that he isn't going to put his hand on her neck..
I could dance all night
Suddenly someone grabs her and twirls her around, breaking their contact and dance steps.
"Faith! Where have you been!" yells Wesley over the music. His gun is slung over his shoulder, his face set in a permanent scowl directed at her. Faith frantically pulls herself out of his grasp and turns around to confront Angelus- but he is gone.
Wesley grabs her again and drags her towards the exit. Faith scans the crowd for him, but he's disappeared in the shadows on the dance floor. Finally, she can stop dancing, and she gulps down deep breaths of sweet oxygen.
"Wes, he was here!" she pants at him, mouth open like a drowning fish. She drops to the ground, distastefully noting the garbage littered floor of the alley.
Wesley frowns at her. "Are you sure?"
"Yes! He was right in front of me! When you pulled me away, he disappeared," breathes Faith.
"The man in front of you?" asks Wesley. "There was a basic resemblance, but that wasn't him. I think the whole club would have known if Angelus was there."
It's her turn to frown at him. "Are you sure?"
"Very," says Wesley. He stares at her, dropping his harsh demeanor. "Faith, are you feeling all right? Do you need a rest?"
Is it possible that he hadn't been Angelus? Had he just been some intimidating weirdo? Is she imagining things now? It's possible, it's probable; Angelus would have cut to the kill, not watch her dance.
Maybe she needs that rest. She's obviously hallucinating...
She sees a flicker from the corner of her eye. There's a man lurking at the mouth of the alley, turning away as the wind blows his long coat. He stands there for a long second, gazing at Faith. She silently points over Wesley's shoulder and Wesley follows her gaze- but he's gone in an instant.
Wesley stares at the deserted entrance. A dirty piece of newspaper skitters past them, driven by the wind; then utter silence.
Wesley stands there for a long time. Faith knows what he's thinking.
"I'm not crazy," she says. "And I'm not overtired. He was there."
"Whatever pleases you," Wesley says softly. "Shall we go?"
Don't stop, don't stop
She gets up and rips the leg off an abandoned chair.
I could dance all night
"It's time to hunt."