Title: Just Desserts (5/?)

Author: nailbunny617

Pairing: B/F eventually…I think…

Rating: PG-13 for now

Disclaimers: No, I don't own any of these characters, I'm just taking them for a joyride and mean no harm. Oh and if girlsmut is illegal where you live, move! If it's not your cup of tea, then I suggest stopping reading right now.

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long in updating, but real life kicked me in the arse, if you'll pardon my French. Grad school applications and finals are a harsh taskmaster…please forgive me! Anyway, onwards and upwards… (And here's to hoping memory serves me right in thinking Faith's tattoo is on her right arm.)

"No way!" Cordelia crowed with a little too much glee for my taste. In fact, if I weren't terribly mistaken, she got away with a lot of that kind of shit. But the evil cheerleader had somehow wormed her way through my defenses, slinking past all my walls.

All of that was why, instead of pounding her, I rolled my eyes and tried to hold in a sigh. It didn't work too well, but in my defense I wasn't really trying anyway.

She stared at me, jumping up and down like a tiny child in a warehouse-sized candy store, obviously expecting me to dignify her outburst with a reply.

"Way," I said simply, hoping beyond all hope that she'd drop it. You can't blame a girl for trying, right?

We walked in silence for a while, but it was the kind of silence where you're just listening for the sounds of incoming mortars, whistling your doom. I stole glances at her, wincing slightly every time at the gears grinding in her head.

Feeling snarky, I grumbled at her, "Geez, don't hurt yourself thinking that much."

After a while, things having been far too quiet and eerie for my tastes, she quietly asked the one question I never wanted her to.

"That explains everything, doesn't it?" I could just see the puzzle pieces clicking together for her. The reason I poisoned Angel. The reason I went after Buffy upon waking from my coma, only to notice that the love of her life wasn't even in town anymore. The reason I turned myself in, because her words cut me to the bone and I had to get away from the righteous indignation.

I just looked at C in response, not trusting myself to speak. I figured my past actions were yelling loudly enough already. A little part of me was relieved that nobody'd figured it out, the way I'd seen right through Willow. I guess no one wanted to look.

A few minutes later, the both of us just pushing our bikes along side by side, Cordelia broke the silence again. "That's why you have to go back there, isn't it? That's why you always had to be there, even after you woke up and we all thought you'd run."

Pretty fucking smart for a former Homecoming Queen.

I think she saw that I'd been pushed much too far already that night, that week, hell that year.

Poking my right arm, she asked, "So is that tattoo real?"

"Of course it's real, do you honestly think I'd get up every morning and ink the damn thing on myself?"

"Well, you could be deathly afraid of needles or something." She was looking at me slyly out of the corners of her eyes. Shit.

"I'm the Slayer, I've battled demons and group showers. Needles ain't gonna faze me."

"That's not what I hear."

"Who told you?!" Waking up in the hospital with that IV in my arm was almost worse than the never-ending nightmares where Buffy chased me around and gutted me. Over and over again.

"Aha! So the big bad Slayer is terrified of a little, itty bitty poke!"

"Shut up before I rearrange your face." I was grumbling good-naturedly, mostly because it wasn't like Cordy was gonna choose right then to actually be scared of me. I had to keep up appearances, see.

"So, for real now, is the tattoo authentic?"

"Yes," I grated through clenched teeth, not wanting to go any further into detail.

"That had to have involved needles pretty intensely."

"Guess so." Nonchalance is my middle name, yessiree.

"This is gonna be a hell of a good story, isn't it?"

"Depends on who you ask."

"Well, I'm asking you."

"Well, I'm not gonna answer."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No. I'm. Not."

"Yah huh!" She was delightedly skipping at that point, knowing she'd stumbled upon something terribly juicy.

We were still going back and forth like that when we made it back to the Hyperion.

"You are SO gonna tell me."

"I'm so NOT gonna tell you."

And it went on, until finally Angel, with his eyes vaguely crossed, put a stop to it. "Girls! Would you please give it a rest? I'm getting a migraine!"

"Well then you shouldn't talk so loud," C quipped back while inspecting her cuticles. I gaped at her, astonished that she could irritate so many people so effortlessly. It's gotta be an art form.

"Just give in, Faith, she'll never give up." Angel's voice is weary, and if I didn't know him better, I'd have missed the glint in his eyes.

"Yea!" Rolling my eyes, I had to admit that I really didn't expect C to restrain herself from chiming in there.

With another long-suffering sigh and much eye rolling, I bit out the story. "Well, I was dating this guy, and he was a little older than me." By the raised eyebrows in the room, they obviously thought I was covering up exactly how much older he was. Eh, so they were right, big deal. "Anyway, he was a tattoo artist, and I thought that was so sexy and dangerous, ya know? So he drew this neat little design for me and I couldn't see a way out of it and keep my reputation for being tough."

Cordy was trying to suppress her giggles, like we were in middle school and I'd just told her a boy held my hand. Rolling my eyes, I continued, "So I got really drunk, figuring the alcohol would make me braver. Liquid courage, or something. Anyway, once I saw the needle and he turned it on and it made that awful buzzing sound, I passed out cold. Next thing I know, I've got this little baby." Appreciatively, I pulled up my shirt sleeve and flexed my arm to show off my little body art.

I could tell Angel was trying not to laugh at me, but Cordelia's giggles had long since gotten the best of her. So he thumped me on the shoulder and said gruffly, "See? That wasn't so bad."

I glared at him and stomped off.

The next day was a blur, filled with banter between Wes, Cordy and I. They filled me in on all the latest and greatest movies, pop icons, and something about an incident with Janet Jackson's tits that I wasn't too sure I wanted to hear about.

I went up to the roof, having it on good authority that it was a wonderful spot to brood away hours at a time. I sat Indian-style on the ledge, just staring at the setting sun and waxing poetic.

Sometimes I'd stop and think about something I'd done in the past. Just one thing, probably not even that terrible when compared to everything I'd ever done, but something I regretted terribly nonetheless. Sit and obsess and bang it around in my head, cutting myself down until there was nothing more than a pile of skin and bones.

At that particular moment I was beating myself up over how absolutely, downright rude I'd been to Tara. I could tell right away that the poor girl was nervous about meeting Buffy and I bet the last thing she had anticipated was having a conversation with me. Or deserved. She seemed like such a nice person.

Sometimes I can be a world-class asshole. And no matter how much Queen C and Wes might claim, I haven't really changed all that much. I'm still the same old me, full of rough edges and gruffness. But maybe there was still a chance for me, despite everything I'd done.

Or maybe because of everything I'd done.

I suppose you could say it was fitting, then, that the person to finally seek out my less-than-stellar company was Willow. I hadn't seen her since the, by now, infamous first meeting of the We-Love-Buffy Club. I wondered who'd get to be the president. Treasurer always sounded like a fun job to have.

She didn't say anything, just sat next to me, close enough that her warmth crept through my jeans. We simply watched the sun go down, lost in our own maudlin thoughts. Let's face it, no one in the history of the world has watched the sunset without some private drama in their minds.

I really did feel sorry for Willow. She was a good person at heart, and having your own suppressed feelings exposed to you really isn't the most fun of times. On some level, she knew all along. What I had said to her wasn't a revelation, but putting it out there in words made it somehow more real. She couldn't deny it anymore.

And you know what they say about denial.

But, at least for her sake, she already had the love of a good woman. Now that the wound was in plain sight, maybe she'd be able to heal. Move on and really devote herself to Tara. Both girls deserved it.

I wished it were that easy for me.

Finally, long after the sun had set, Red broke the silence between us. She didn't need words, didn't need a whole conversation to understand me. To understand what I needed to do, and that there never was a choice for me.

"We're going home tomorrow."