Mad World II
Note: Large time skip here, about a year. Please, be looking at the dates throughout the chapters. They'll guide you and help you understand a bit more of this story.
March 15, 2005
Days like this were becoming too often, days when the winds whistled constantly and spewed with the roughly fallen leaves to create that droning sound. The sound reminded her of something. She couldn't place it. Raindrops pattered against the roofs, the ground, the heads of hurried people, rushing to their destinations, never with enough time.
The clouds had joined together to form one huge, raw pillow in the sky, leaking raindrops with a grumble of approval from above. She liked the rain, much more than the sunshine.
With a glance towards the sky, saluting the cool air and refreshing moisture, her hands went to her pockets and withdrew the crumbled, massacred and all too messily scribbled note. 73 Nightshade View.
Chocolate eyes peered hopefully around the remaining street signs. Nightshade View… there it was. The sign, though simple aluminium and inking, sent her heart into a clamour. Her chest thumped and growled beneath her, daring her to toss the note, turn around and head back home, but her stubborn blood rebelled. Her feet did as well. Number 73 was in clear view from here. She could see the wooden porch, worn and breaking from years and years of sitting, though those years couldn't be because of the present homeowner.
A breath was inhaled, eyes blinked, then closed, and soon, Faith found herself standing on that worn porch with a hand punching in the plated doorbell—
What was she doing here? She asked herself. She shouldn't be here—
Should she—
…No. This needed to be done. She needed to see her. Besides this was strictly business—
Or so she told herself. Right?
A silhouetted figure, called by the shrill ringing of the bell, neared the door, hands outreached to open it.
God—
Too late to leave now.
The door creaked, moaning on its hinges and Faith absently straightened. Her fingers pulled at the edge of her jacket and then disappeared at her sides. The door opened, though the silhouette had vanished, and left an excited puppy, which in turn, yipping and slobbering launched itself out of the doorway and at Faith's feet.
"River, no! Get back inside!" A voice, unmistakably her's sounded, though a body wasn't yet put to the command.
Faith forced a small grin at the dog, hoping she could stare down at him long enough before having to look at Buffy. The dog threw itself into the yard, away from both Slayers.
Forced, reluctant, Faith drew her eyes from the ground holding her feet and into the viridian eyes that had yet to notice her.
"I'm so sorry, he's usually not this hyper…"
…
…
…
All emotion failed Faith. She stood, eyes dripping from Buffy's, to her lips, back to her eyes, back to her lips.
All colour drained from Buffy's face and her knees shook and trembled beneath her, ready to buckle. Her hand grasped for the door, holding onto the handle to support her body from failing.
Hands trembled and twitched, desperately wanting to feel, to touch, to define the other as real, to make absolute sureness their mind wasn't tricking them. Faith let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Her jaw froze, locked beneath her suddenly dry lips. Both throats closed and chests refused to heave. Hearts froze, and eyes connected.
Was heaven ever so envious?
Buffy's foot inched forward, cautiously, hesitant, not wanting to believe in what she saw, for fear of losing it again. Her legs defied her feelings though, and she found herself rushing at the Rogue, taking the both of them to the ground and into a fitful kiss. To hell with it…
She was real, they both thought, she was real. She is really here before me.
The two slayers lost themselves in a frenzy of tangling legs, wrapping arms and fumbling hands. Their bodies, melded together into one single form, melted. Lips fell perfectly into place joining and refusing to let go, no matter how hard their owners tugged. They manoeuvred, first on top, then beneath the other, finding and losing again each crevice, curve, and turn of their bodies.
Soon, drops of moisture, quite like the rain falling above them, dripped and fell to the Rogue's slayer face. Her eyes opened and realization came over that the warm condensation were tears. They didn't stop. Faith was drowning and drunken in her lover's tears. Her hands fell away from their place at the small of Buffy's back to wipe them away, but Buffy forced them back down, needing to feel Faith around her. Days, it seemed, went on this way, though when Faith awoke later that afternoon, in the warmth and dryness of Buffy's home, she discovered only hours had passed by.
She couldn't remember exactly, but Faith faintly felt the lure of sleep once they had, in a daze, dragged each other inside and found a bed conveniently placed for them. When Faith awoke, the outside world was still gloomy, though in peaceful daytime, and Buffy was still in her arms, sleeping too. She noticed shed clothes lying in clumps on the floor around them, along with the small, whimpering dog she had just briefly met earlier.
Faith could tell, already, that no words would need to be said. They would wake together, start an early morning routine and go about their business together, then end the day just as normally as the Baker's next door. With these thoughts in mind, Faith lay back down in the newly acquired bed, closing her eyes and finding rest again. The only disturbance to keep rest from them was the faintly blinking cell phone in the Rogue's pants pocket, lying discarded on the floor, a red dot screaming that a message had arrived.