Summary: I guess it's not much of a One Shot anymore huh? A look at a secret relationship between Buffy and Faith in Season 7.
Disclaimer: None. Nope Nobody. Not me. Don't own 'em.
Okay, guys, you asked for more, and I thought about it. So… here it goes.
Mad World
Slayer Central had never been a place of mild organization, as headquarters in war should be. It was never ready at the allotted time. It was never very clean. Sleeping bags, food wrappers, research books and computer gadgets littered the floors, furniture and sometimes even walls.
And, of course, in the absence of General Summers, things were even particularly worse. Work was never completed, or in some cases even thought about being completed. And with the other lenient leaders on duty for keeping the house in order, many of its inhabitants spent their time as they wished.
But when 'the monster' did arrive back home…
"TV? No. No TV. You guys are supposed to be training, researching… working! Where's Faith? Or Anya? Weren't they going to train with you, or … teach you or something?"
Each potential stood upon their feet and raced away from the television set to find something else to be busy with, something that would maybe please Buffy.
Every member of that household knew what punishment was for angering the slayer, a long, boring, motivational speech, and then sometimes yelling. The only one that wasn't in any remote way afraid of the angered Slayer was the other Slayer herself. Faith had seen and dealt with her too many times now to count, and to still be afraid.
"Heard my name." The Rogue murmured as she swaggered into the quickly emptying living room, dawning a slowly emptying bag of chips and glazed fingers.
No time for sarcasm, Faith.
"TV?" Buffy asked, still stuck on the subject. "Sorry, Faith, I don't know how it is you intend to help this battle, but my solutions somehow don't include having these girls sit on their ass all day!"
"Hey, B, whatev. I'll get 'em to work." Faith lazily promised, as if unmoved by Buffy's outburst.
Like mentioned before, these brief encounters between the two were simply smokescreens. Both knew that in a matter of hours they would be situated comfortably in each other's arms.
Even when they were alone, they held sarcasm and banter towards each other. Not once had they glanced in each other's eyes in the presence of someone else and shown an ounce of appreciation for the other.
"Good. God knows we're running out of time." Buffy concluded, brushing past Faith and heading into the kitchen to see what damage had been done there in the brief two hours or so she had been disappeared.
As usual, the eating quarters were packed. Boxes, cans, containers, and wrappers always tormented the counter tops and table. So, not much difference there.
Before Buffy could make another 'Get to Work' comment, or speech to the moseying potentials who had situated in there, Anya was first to load a whole new to do list onto her shoulders.
"Buffy, you're out of soy milk and the lactose intolerant girls are getting tired of dry cereal. Oh, and the downstairs toilet is clogged so everybody is using the upstairs now. And we have three more visitors."
"Three? We're nearly exploding out of this house already. Where're we going to put them? Outside?"
Average day? More or less.
The Slayer continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs, irritably shrugging past a group of potentials crowding the bathroom door. Were those the new ones? No, wait. She had seen a few of those before. Ugh. She had to start working on names.
Buffy slipped silently into her bedroom. Finally, a place where she could be alone. For now, at least.
Once potentials started to go to bed, this room, along with many others upstairs, would slowly fill up. Downstairs, commotion still sounded as both Faith and Anya slacked on their duty. It wasn't babysitting to them obviously. It was chill time.
Thankfully, there would be no patrolling tonight. Buffy didn't think she could rise to that occasion. Chasing potentials, and vampires, up and down Restfield Cemetery's perimeter just didn't sound that inviting tonight.
Instead, Buffy stretched herself across her bed and stared to the ceiling above.
If she could just close her eyes and put all the sound out, she could just maybe make herself believe it was a different time, that she was seventeen years old and hadn't a care in the world, except for the pesky apocalypses that so continuously popped up.
She played pretend for a long few minutes, imagining and hoping that she would wake up in a different world the next morning, until the squeaky creak of the opening door became deafening in the silence she had just previously held onto.
She could sense who it was.
Before she had even knocked on Buffy's door, the slayer could feel her presence nearing. So, she stay motionless on her bed. It was peculiar, having Faith come to her, instead of the other way around, as it typically was.
"It's early." Buffy whispered into her pillow. Her back was turned from her visitor. She didn't think she could stand staring into those dark chocolate orbs after the deceit they had performed.
"Thought you could use a little company. You were lookin' a little hassled back there." Faith took a step forward, guardedly, as if ready to be thrown out in an instant. She shut the door behind her, making sure to hear the slight click of the handle, telling her it had been securely closed.
"I'm fine." Buffy murmured back, "You shouldn't be here." She paused, blinking before speaking again. Just talking to the other woman sent emotions hurling around inside of her, begging to be released. They wanted to heal, to forget, but alas, neither slayer would let them. "Not yet anyway."
"S'not like anyone saw me. 'Sides, they're all in the basement, getting' some sort of lesson from Anya. God knows I don't wanna' be down there." Faith moved stealthily from side to side of the room, as if pacing, though the slowness in which she moved made her actions more like meandering. She fingered small trinkets, edges of drawers and walls, until finally turning to look at her counterpart. "They won't know."
Buffy's eyes followed the other slayer just so slowly as she moved up and down, back and forth. Buffy didn't speak again. She simply let Faith climb atop the bed, with two glances exchanged for approval, and find a spot beside her.
Their arms began to snake, moving stealthily and silently around each sunken waist until finding comfort at the small of each other's backs.
For the remainder of the night, there was no movement, no noise, and no rest even. There was just this feeling. Neither knew what it was. Guilt or love. God forbid, love.
Okay, well. I'm assuming that went well. If this whole 'Non-One-shot' thing doesn't work out, then.. well, I suppose the story doesn't go on. But anyway just give me some feedback or sommat.