Chapter Six – Kiss and Make It Better

Faith was still shivering when she ran into her room, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't believe she had just done that. Kissed him. Kissed Wesley Wyndam-Pryce like she meant it. That stuck-up, prick of a watcher who had made her life miserable. The kitten mewed from its perch on her bed. Taking a blanket off the bed, she wrapped it around her, then toweled her hair off as best she could. Maybe she could go dry it by the fire, take the cat with her for protection. Nothing like a cat to distract you from actually talking about what was on your mind.

The bathroom door was closed as she crept out into the corridor. Placing the kitten on the floor, she sat down in front of the fire, placing another large log on the dying embers. It quickly roared to life again, helping make her body all toasty. Man, she never wanted to be that cold ever again in her life. Running her fingers through her hair, she got as much of the water out of it as possible. It would be a tangled, curly mess in the morning, but it was the best she could do.

As she sat staring off into the flames, the kitten climbed into her lap, turning, turning until it was in a comfortable position. She swore she heard it sigh as it laid its head down on her leg. It obviously liked the warmth of the fire too.

Sitting naked with a blanket around her and a kitten in her lap? Now that was funny. Or ironic. Or something. But the very thing she wanted to erase from her mind kept coming back. Where the hell did Wes learn to kiss like that? Not that she had ever sampled his skills. But, really, the man had definite skills. Must have something to do with talking so much. He really knew how to use that tongue of his. That line of thought was making her warmer. She just wondered what else he knew how to do with that tongue.

This was so not what she had expected or wanted. It just happened. One minute she was shivering from the cold, the next minute she had her mouth all over him. Did she ever have those thoughts about him in Sunnydale? Probably. But she had those thoughts about Giles, Angel, Xander, any male in her vicinity. He was just another pretty face to her. And those suits of his looked so ripable. Too bad she never found out then, because she had nothing to compare with now.

But they couldn't. He was right. It wasn't what they needed. They needed to have a working relationship. Not one based on sex. Still, it was a tempting thing. He was tempting. As she listened to the kitten purr, she knew she'd have to get past that, for her sake. Since he had pushed her away, he obviously didn't want any kind of physical relationship with her. That really suited her just fine or so she tried to convince herself.

Wesley came into the room a few minutes later, startled from her presence by the fire. He had already dressed. His hair was curling at the ends, but his face was still a little red from the heat of their bath. Or maybe the heat of their kiss. She couldn't tell which. She hoped the later.

"Sorry. I didn't know you were out here."

"Cold. The heat source in here. My hair is a bitch to dry."

"Yes," he replied nervously.

She really, really liked it better when he was snarky or angry, not this nervous, stuttery man. The blanket she had wrapped around her dipped lower, down off one shoulder. She didn't notice until she saw where his eyes had drifted. Well, I'll be damned, she thought. He was just as affected by their kiss as she was. And fuck, did his eyes deepen to a beautiful shade of blue when he was aroused.

"I don't have any clothes."

Wes' eyes widened considerably. His mouth opened and closed a few times, nervous as ever.

"I can, um, find you something."

As he started off towards his bedroom again, Faith arose from the floor, showing him quite a bit of leg and dipping the blanket until he could see the swell of one breast. She watched as he visibly swallowed at the sight of just a little more skin. Damn, it sure was fun to play with him, she concluded. And he still acted like he wanted her. Bonus in her book.

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

So she decided to follow him to the bedroom. Standing by the doorway, she leaned up against the doorjamb, waiting for him to pull something out for her to wear. He found some sweats and a long-sleeve t-shirt. Then he threw the t-shirt down and yanked a button-down off a hanger in the closet. Man actually still has some brain cells left. T-shirt would have been much too clingy. That way he could at least not see her nipples through the fabric.

Handing them to her, he nodded. Slowly, she turned to go into her room. Letting the blanket slip a little down her back, she really wanted to see his face. She bet he couldn't take his eyes off of her. As she walked into the room, she let the blanket fall to the floor. The little gasp that came from him was all she needed. He saw her, he was watching her, he wanted her. That's what she wanted to know. She still had it. The problem was did she want to use it.

Slipping on the clothes, she peeked out into the hallway. He had scrammed once he looked his fill. Unbuttoning the shirt until it showed quite a bit of skin, she made her way into the main part of the cabin.

Wesley was bent over in the kitchen, softly talking to the floor it looked like. Then Faith remembered that she had left the kitten by the fire. He must be talking to the thing. The faint smell of tuna filled the air as she looked down at the floor to see the kitten chowing down on the treat. Meal fit for a king. Wesley gently stroked the back of the kitten's head as the thing devoured every morsel in front of it.

"Thanks for feeding it," she softly called out, not wanting to frighten the cat or its benefactor.

Wesley jerked his hand away from the kitten's head, standing up fast. She heard him grit out in pain as he did so. But she didn't want to mention that he might be hurt again. He just might punch her for her concern.

"It was hungry," he simply said.

He turned to put the rest of the tuna in another bowl.

"Why would anyone dump a kitten out in the middle of nowhere?"

"It could have come from the farm down the road."

He wouldn't turn around and look her in the eyes. Was he embarrassed? Maybe she had taken her little skin game too far.

"Still. Looks like it might need its mother."

"It's old enough to survive without," he answered, stirring ingredients into the tuna to make tuna fish sandwiches.

"Yeah, well, like I would know. I had the equivalent of no pets when I was young. How 'bout you?"

Wesley dropped the fork he was using in the sink with a loud clatter.

"No. No pets. Father wouldn't allow that. Said that they wasted precious study time."

"Dude, that's harsh. Mine just couldn't afford it."

"Well, be that as it may, we don't exactly have the provisions to take care of this one."

Wesley leaned up against the counter, still not facing her. It was really starting to irritate her that he wouldn't look at her.

"We'll manage until we can get out of this hellhole."

Wesley dropped his chin to his chest. Faith had enough. He would either tell her what the fuck she did wrong this time or they'd have to throw down. He was irritating her last nerve. So she reached over and touched his shoulder lightly. Spinning around, he grabbed her wrist and yanked hard. God, if he had any more strength, he could have seriously messed up her wrist.

"Don't," he growled back at her.

"What the fuck is your deal? One minute you're almost fucking me, the next minute you act like I have the plague."

"Do you want to see the real me, Faith? Is that what you want?"

He looked scared and scary all at the same time. His eyes looked cold and hard, but his hand was warm and strong. Man of so many contradictions. Something she never saw in him before. Until she had tortured him, that was. The glimpse of this man was there at that time.

"Let go," she urged him to do.

"What? Afraid now are we? Why can't you just do as I have asked? Is it because you always have to push the boundaries? Always have to see how far you can push me?"

Yeah, she had pushed both of them that night she had tortured him. Pushed herself into that insane place where she didn't think she'd ever go. But she had pushed him, and he never broke. She left the breaking to herself.

He yanked her against his body, grabbing her hair and forcing her head back until his eyes were all she could see.

"Now do you see what kind of man I am Faith? Aren't you glad you had a hand in forming what you see now?"

He still blames her, she concluded. He still hates her. She should never have sought him out.

"You're scaring me. Please stop," came out a little high and screechy, but it was the truth.

That look of self-doubt crossed his face again. Dropping his hand from her hair, he thrust her back against the table and slid on the ground before her. Collapsing to the ground with him, she noticed that he was shaking like a leaf.

Was this what she made? This broken man before her? Oh, god, and she thought she was fucked up.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," started to pour out of her mouth before she could stop. This time she meant every word. "I just wanted someone to kill me. You, Angel, it didn't matter. I so wished you would have. Please believe me when I say I'm sorry. I am a piece of shit. I always will be. I just wanted someone to take all the pain away. All of it."

Dammit, then she started to cry. No one had ever seen her cry, except for Angel that was. Now this stupid bastard would see her blubbering up all that had festered in her for so long.

"Please say you forgive me. Please. I just need to know."

She didn't care whether he didn't want her to touch him or not. If she didn't have human contact right then, she might just explode. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his bent legs. He didn't flinch away from her touch, so she laid her head down on his knees. She could feel his breathing slow down a little once she got comfortable. Then his fingers cautiously raked through her curls.

Wesley couldn't breathe. He almost thrust Faith away again, but she held onto his legs for dear life, like he was a life preserver instead of just a man. His knees now were quite wet from her crying. He had only seen her cry that one time in the alley. That had been for Angel, not for him to see. Now, she couldn't stop.

Was she sorry? She certainly acted like it. He really wanted to believe her. He truly did. And even if she was sorry, would she stay on the straight and narrow? She'd had time to think in prison about all she had done wrong. But was that enough time?

As his fingers lightly raked through her unruly curls, he felt the shudders rack her body as she poured out all that heartache and turmoil through her tears. He knew she'd had a hard life before becoming a slayer. How hard he could never imagine knowing.

So he tried not to think at the moment, just feel. Feel how soft her hair was, how strong and warm her embrace was, how her body felt against his as she snuggled against his legs. He knew that she was trying to seduce him before. That every time she showed more skin, every time she gave him that sultry look, that she was just playing a game with him. And he had taken the bait whole. Faith was enticing to the nth degree. Now was no exception, even though she was probably all red eyed and snuffling. She probably even cried beautiful tears.

Slowly, he worked his fingers to her scalp, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her, relaxing her body into his. Her grip on his legs lessened slightly, at least restoring some of the circulation to them. The full-on sobs turned to little ones, then turning to snuffles, until the torrent that had gone on full tilt had almost stopped.

He admired her for that. She could let go to the point of getting all of those feelings out in the open. She no doubt would feel better in the long run. But would he? She had also done this with Angel. That didn't make Wesley feel special, it just made him available. What else was he to do with her? Another small moan escaped her lips, bringing him out of his musings.

"You have really big feet," she finally said through her snuffles.

He burst out laughing. It had been so long since he had really laughed. Sure, he had laughed that day in Angel's room, right before the earthquake and fire that had proved to him that the prophecy was coming true. But that had been a maniacal laugh, not one of merriment. Since he was just on the edge of insanity at that moment,that definitely wasn't a true laugh.

"Well, ya do."

Raising her head, Faith looked him in the eyes finally. He had been trying to ignore her eyes for the last couple of minutes, knowing that if she saw his, she would see what he was feeling. So he looked down instead, trying to avoid her gaze. In the couple of seconds he really looked at her, he saw the puffy eyes, the pleading look and a hint of playfulness too.

"It didn't occur to me that I did."

"Compared to mine, they're big. I think compared to most guys, they would be big."

Wesley looked down to see Faith's dainty feet peeking from underneath her legs. She had slender feet, actually quite beautiful feet if he had to admit. Just like the rest of her. Then she started to trace around the top of his feet. He jumped and pulled them back away from her.

"You're ticklish. I'll be damned."

Faith's face changed from one of anguish to a little imp. She was contemplating doing something dastardly to him. He just didn't know what.

"I wonder where else you're ticklish."

"I don't think you want to find out," he responded with all seriousness.

"Why not, watcherboy? Not man enough to take a little tickling."

Her hands found his feet again, this time the soles. Wesley then tried to see if she was ticklish since she definitely was trying her best to kill him with tickling. It was only when he poked accidentally underneath her armpits did she start to squirm.

"Don't you dare," she warned him.

Rolling around on the floor like two children, they poked and tickled until Faith called a truce. Both breathing heavily, Wesley plopped down onto his back next to Faith, trying to catch that breath.

"I forgive you," he finally told her.

"What? What did you say?"

"I said, I forgive you. It was a dark time for the both of us. I just wish things had been different between us."

Faith propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. He didn't think she'd have any tears left after her crying jag, but as he saw her eyes go moist again, all he wanted to do was make it all better. That of course was what he was supposed to do as her watcher. Something he had failed to do as her watcher. Making her all better every time she came out of battle injured. Now, it was almost like a battle, a battle of emotions, of wills between the two of them.

"Don't cry," he whispered as he reached up to wipe away the first tear that started to fall.

"Damn it. I'm not sure why you make me do this. Not something I do, ever. You have some magical powers over me, buddy?"

"No. I'm just a depressing sort. Ladies cry over me all the time."

Faith smiled down at him. He thought she was going to kiss him again, when she placed a small peck on his forehead and then sat up. The kitten decided to make an appearance again, climbing directly onto his chest. It started to knead its very sharp claws into his skin before Faith was able to stop it by picking it up.

"Bloody hell. That hurt," he winced.

"She likes you."

"It's a he."

"She."

"A he."

"Wanna look at her plumbing?"

The cat took that as an invitation to flee as fast as it could. That indignity wasn't something it wanted to endure at the moment. Just then, Faith's stomach rumbled loudly, mirroring his by mere seconds.

"I do believe that almost drowning has worked up an appetite."

"I am totally not going near that water again. My bones are still cold. Talk about your life flashing before your eyes."

It was unbelievable that the night Faith tortured him his life didn't flash before his eyes. He truly did not believe he would die that night. There were times when he thought he could be seriously injured. But he had faith that Angel would get there in time, or that he would at least convince Faith that what she was doing wasn't worth it.

He gingerly sat up, realizing that rolling around on the floor hadn't been the best thing for his bruised ribs. He certainly would feel the pain in the morning. Looking out the window, he couldn't tell whether it was day or night the snow was coming down so hard.

"I shouldn't have said that. Life flashing before your eyes. Stupid thing to say. I'll shut up now."

Faith hurriedly stood up, moving away from him. She was even worried about what she would say? If that was the case, then she definitely had changed.

"It's just an expression, Faith. I did not believe you were mocking me in any way."

"Ok, Ok. Um, god, I really could use a smoke. But they're all gone. Shit. What'll I do? I know. Go out in the snow and almost kill myself again. But no. Then you might get hurt. That wouldn't be good. Maybe I'll just stick my head in a snow bank."

Faith babbling? He had never heard her babble. It was a little on the maniacal side, so he knew he had to do something to stop it.

"How about I feed you? I'm sure that your blood sugar is quite low."

"Yeah, food, food. Sounds good."

Pushing himself up off the floor, he stood directly in front of Faith now. Her hair was a wild tangle around her face, hiding most of it from his view. Brushing back a large piece, he then tilted her chin up to look at him.

"We'll eat, then we'll talk. How does that sound?"

Faith slightly nodded her head yes.

"Good," he replied back to her gesture, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

"Beer."

Wesley turned to finish making the tuna fish before the blasted cat found what was left.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have any beer?"

"Yes, and this time you are actually old enough to drink it."

"Not like it stopped me before."

Shuffling through the refrigerator, Faith found what she was looking for. She also pulled one out for him. He sighed as he felt the smooth taste go down his throat. It had been so long since he drank just to taste and to not get drunk. He had been drunk the last six months more times than he could count.

"I kind of would like you to forget what I did. I mean the crying part. It's just the moment. Almost dying. Puts things in perspective."

"Yes, almost dying does put things in perspective. Like who your friends are or aren't, who to trust."

"Whatever went on between you and Angel? It can be fixed, you know. It can't be as bad as you think."

Wesley handed her a sandwich. The topic of conversation was veering straight towards him again. Something he wished Faith would just drop.

"Worse than even you can imagine."

"Was he really that much of a bastard to you?" she asked between bites.

"Yes. As I said, you are so very perceptive. Instead of me getting away with taking Connor, the woman in your dream, Justine, worked for a man by the name of Holtz. Holtz had traveled through time to hunt down Angelus. He wanted to hurt Angel the best way he knew how."

"So that bitch stole Connor from you by slashing your throat."

Wesley sighed, like he was glad that Faith had said it instead of him.

"So you screwed up. Angel realized that. You were trying to do the right thing."

He finally looked at her. Really looked at her. The look of anger and pain that flashed across his face was totally apparent to her. She actually winced at the sight.

"Angel didn't realize that. He tried to kill me."

Angel would never do that, Faith thought. It wasn't something he did to his friends. Hell, he couldn't even kill her. There must have been more to the story. There always was.

"Damn it," Faith exclaimed.

She started to pace the room, trying to figure out how Angel could have turned on one of his own. He had given her a chance, even after her so-called suicide/torture session with Wes. Even after she had tried to kill him. He still gave her a chance. And Wes was one of his best buds.

"I can't believe he'd give me all those chances, and you not even one. That just sucks. Not fair. When I see him, I'm not gonna be happy."

"Faith, I didn't tell you this to make you unhappy or for you to be on my side. I caused the situation by not confiding in him."

"He should have had you helping to get the kid back. How hard would it be to kidnap a little baby back from some lunatic?"

Wesley got up and tried to leave the room, looking like he'd had enough of her inquisition. But the story wasn't finished or he wouldn't be trying to run, yet again. She stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"Tell me what else happened?" she quietly asked him.

"Holtz just didn't kidnap the baby. He took Connor to a hell dimension. Connor came back ateenager. I don't know what else happened after that. Lilah was breathing down my neck and Angel had made it perfectly clear that I was to leave the city."

"What about Cor, and those other people Angel told me about? Didn't they help?"

"No."

"They abandoned you?"

"Simply put? Yes, it seems that they did."

All the puzzle pieces fit together in her brain then. Wes kidnaps baby, loses him, almost dies, gets abandoned by friends, has best friend try to kill him, he leaves in a fat hurry for the hills. She'd done the same thing, running from Sunnydale. Only she'd messed with way too many people's lives in an entirely fucked up way.

"Didn't they know your side? That you didn't do it on purpose?"

"I took that child on purpose Faith. Never doubt that," he glared back.

"To save him, Wes. To save him. And if Angel had been thinking straight, he would have realized that. Maybe he is now, maybe you can talk to him."

"I'm done talking," Wes said with finality.

He moved over to the fire and stoked it some more. Between their heated conversation, wrestling on the floor and the beer, Faith felt quite toasty. By the look on Wesley's face, he apparently didn't. The issues that she brought up for him to live over again probably didn't help. He stared into the fire, until she came over to stand right beside him.

"No talking. I promise. I mean, hey, not one for talking here. It's beautiful, you know."

She saw his head move, to look over at her. But she still looked directly into the fire, like if she did let him see her eyes, he would see right into her soul. Enough of that for one day.

"I know," he swallowed.

"It dances, yearns to break free. But we keep it corralled into this little box to help warm us. When it accidentally breaks out, we curse it because it causes destruction. But when it helps us, makes us not freeze to death, we praise it. I guess that's why it's so beautiful to me. Kind of reminds me of someone."

She then turned to look in his eyes. Not exactly a great idea on her part, she thought. Hell, his blue eyes at that instant kind of looked like the hottest part of the flame. Would she get burned if she moved a little closer to him? As they bumped shoulders, his hand came up a little, touching hers just slightly. She touched him back, winding her pinky around one of his fingers.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

"Hmm? For what?"

"Listening to me. You've been the first. And for actually caring. That's a first also."

God, she just wanted to throw him down onto the floor in front of the fire and have her way with him, she was so hot. It wouldn't be fair, she concluded. He needed to set the pace, whatever that might be.

"You're welcome," finally came out of her mouth.

She was too busy still looking into his eyes. And as they came closer, she really tried not to close hers. She wanted to see what they did when she kissed him. But as he gently placed his lips on hers, her eyes closed automatically. The sensations he was creating against her lips went everywhere all at once. The softness of his lips, the slight scratchiness of his beard, the warmth that radiated from his body. She just wanted to wrap herself up in him and never let go.

What the fuck, slammed through her brain. Never let go? When had a guy ever been gentle with her? That's probably what it was. But he didn't deepen the kiss, didn't pull her against him, didn't try to grope her breasts, not like it wouldn't be welcome right about then. His mouth was causing this pleasure to race through her body. It was like he was asking permission to touch her just through his kiss.

As she shifted her body to stand directly opposite him instead of beside him, he took his hands and framed her face with them. His long fingers gently stroked her jaw and neck as he slowly painted her lips with his tongue. She immediately complied by opening her mouth to invite him in. Angling his head a little, he lightly stroked her tongue with his, eliciting a groan from her. It came out deep and long from her chest as he performed a miracle. He made her realize that he did care about her. Not about his getting off, getting to the finish line as it were. Did he want another groan? Would it spur him on to something different but as pleasurable as the pressure of his mouth now?

She was afraid to break the spell, if she reached up and touched him. But her fingers were itching for some contact, any contact. It had been way too long since she had touched anyone like this. God, had it been Riley? That must have been it. She didn't have time when she was last in LA, and then prison. No way were any of those bruisers in prison touching her body. Then she'd been traveling around trying to find his ass.

Tentatively, she brought her hands and placed them directly over his. Oh man, hers didn't cover even half of his. He still dueled his tongue with hers, still moved his lips gently over hers. So she must have not done anything wrong. He finally came up for air, breathing heavily. She was breathing just as fast. But the hands didn't go away.

"We should, um, that was, um."

"Don't talk," she implored him to do, inching her hands down his forearms.

The rate they were going, they'd get to the good stuff in a few days. But that didn't matter to her this time. What mattered was what she was feeling. The tingling was making her whole body feel alive and in control, for once in her life. She was in control. She could stop this. So could he. They were in this together. As she gently plunged her tongue into his mouth this time, she got a groan out of him. Her hands finally made their way down his arms to his neck.

He just didn't flinch; he flung her away as she accidentally touched his scar. The beard had hid most of it, but she could see it if she looked closely enough.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she cried.

"You didn't. I just," he started, panting heavily.

So Faith did the only thing she could think of. You get a cut, you kiss it and make it better. The few times her mother had actually done that had made her feel special, loved. So she walked back over to him and dove in headfirst. As her lips touched the scar, he flinched again, but this time he didn't push her away. The beard he had grown made it harder for her to actually feel it with her tongue, but that didn't matter. What mattered was he didn't push her away. Gently tracing the line, she kissed it with her mouth and then her tongue. Wes wasn't breathing and had gone a little stiff, but he let her. The cords of muscle stood out as she tried to make it all better. Finally, she took some skin and sucked a little to see his reaction. A moan of pleasure escaped along with his pent up breath.

Having done her work there, she made her way to his ear, very intent on tracing that also with her tongue.

"All better?" she whispered into his ear.

TBC

Author notes: Sorry I haven't had time to respond to anyone's comments. I thought that it might be better to actually get the chapters done. Nevertheless, I really do appreciate the feedback. I'm hoping to post a little faster now that my health issues have gotten a little better. Thanks for your patience.