author notes: well, APs are over and I'm back. So, this one is extra long, and a two parter! gasppp. so get excited. And as always, thanks for the reviews!

timeline: season 4, but Faith is there. and not evil. go figure.

disclaimer: Buffy not mine. Never will be. Title belongs to Rory.

This Could Have Been A Dance Dance Revolution, But…pt. 1 of 2

I'm tipsy. Ok. Fine.

Fuck that. I've never been 'tipsy' a day in my life. I'm fucking hammered. Plastered. Shitfaced. Whatever. Point is, I don't do things by halves. Everything is all or nothing with me.

I shoulda seen this coming. I shoulda skipped town the minute I saw those hazel eyes, the minute the breath caught in my throat. But I didn't. I stayed and now I'm royally fucked. Because, like I said, I don't do things by halves.

I stare into the pulsing crowd, shadows and bright lights bouncing around, moving in time with some heavy bass techno shit. The light catches her hair, all shiny and pretty. Just like her. Buffy Summers. All shiny and pretty and perfect. Dancing with her corn-fed, All-American picture perfect boyfriend. I feel my gut tighten and I drain my jack and coke.

Once, when I was little, this kid on block, he bet me I couldn't stare at the sun for more than thirty seconds. I never back down from a bet, y'know, got a rep to protect. Yeah, even then I was a little hell raiser. As you could probably guess, I couldn't even make it five seconds. I remember the hot anger in my throat and sunspots in my eyes as the kid laughed and told me I was wuss.

I don't really know why I'm thinking about this right now. What the fuck is up with me?

I hate Riley. Fucking punk. I hate the way he holds her. The way kisses her and touches her. I hate that he can look at her and tell her she's beautiful. She just is, y'know? Inside and out. I can't tell her that though. Because 'we're just friends.' We're just really good friends. Did I mention I'm pretty fucked up right now?

Buffy's kinda like the sun. I can't even look at her with out getting burned.

God, he can't even keep up with her, not like I can. She's holding back, I can tell. I've seen her cut loose for real. Right after a slay, she's wicked rowdy, movements wild and fast. Her hands run through her messy locks and over her curves, her eyes dark. My hands on her hips, on her lower back, her hot skin brushing against mine.

It means everything just to be able to touch her.

Of course, we don't do that tonight. Y'know, kinda bad for Dipshit's precious feelings and all. Oh, yeah, that's what I call Riley in my head. And to his face when B's not around.

I bite the edge of glass as a slower song starts and he pulls her closer, her hazel eyes sparkling in the white lights. She looks so happy. Happier than I'll ever make her. Which is good, y'know? I just want her to be happy.

Still doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a bitch. I watch as he leans down and pushes his lips against hers, still swaying to the music. I tear away my gaze and try to look somewhere else. Anywhere else.

I can't breathe, I wanna vomit, I wanna get the fuck out of here.

I would leave, y'know, if wasn't too damn wrecked to stand. So instead I pick up B's unfinished beer and down it in three gulps.

When I was eleven, my step dad broke my arm because I smashed a window with a baseball. But I didn't cry. I ground my teeth and bit my lip until it bled. But I didn't shed one damn tear, wouldn't that asshole the satisfaction. I hate that Buffy can make me wanna bawl my fucking eyes out at the drop of a hat.

I hate the way she makes me feel.

I wish I could pick my sorry ass off this couch, find some chump and get laid, and fucking forget Buffy Summers for even just a second. But I haven't able to get my rocks off like that in months.

It makes me miss Buffy even worse.

Jesus, listen to me. I'm so fucking gone, I'm not even making sense. How can I miss B when she's with me almost every night?

But I do. Every nameless screw, every person that's not her, I miss her more. I feel emptier and that much further away. I'm going crazy here, I just wanna start crying, but I can't because my cheap mascara will run, and I can't let B find me trashed and sobbing with raccoon eyes to boot.

God, I'm so pathetic. Brooding in a dark corner, drowning away my sorrows in alcohol. Just like mommy dearest. How more cliché can I get? I start to snicker, because really, this situation has gone beyond ridiculous, and I can't cry, so what the hell? My laughter sounds brittle and dry.

But then my stomach turns and I feel bile rising in my throat, so quit laughing and close my eyes, willing the nausea to stop.

I just can't win.

When I open my eyes, she's right there in front of me smiling, and I have to remind myself to breathe again. I think she sees something in my eyes, something that makes her smile drop. Can't help it really. If you haven't noticed, I get kinda emotional when I'm hammered.

"You okay Faith?" She asks, all concern-y and sincere. I start laughing again, and I'm not so sure why. I feel so damn sad right now.

"Me? I'm five by five. I'm always five by five, y'know?" My words are slurring, and I just want to leave. "I'm just keachy peen…Wait, wait, that – that didn't come out right. Keen, I'm peachy keen…" I giggle a little bit, and she gives me that stern, disapproving look I've been on the receiving end of too many times to count.

"Okay…You realize that you, Faith, Queen of All That is Badass and Cool, just said 'peachy keen'? I think you've had one or three too many drinks tonight, F. Let's go." She starts to pull me off the couch and I tug away roughly, feeling anger flush my face. Fuck her. She can't just tell me what to do. If I wanna get wrecked and have a pity party, then I damn well will.

"Lemme go, B. I said I was fucking fine." I snap, stumbling backwards. Bad move on my part, as my motor function's not so good right now. The room spins and my knees begin to buckle. B's arms are at my waist in a second, steadying me. I close my eyes, feeling her fingers touching the exposed skin of my lower back, my arms holding onto hers.

"You don't look 'fucking fine' to me." She says angrily, and I begin to struggle, but my limbs feel like they're made of lead. She sighs, and pins my arms to my side, and I start to go limp. I'm feeling so tired all of a sudden.

"Hey, c'mon, Faith, you can't even stand up right." She says, her tone gentler. I'm too tired to argue, and I let her slip my arm around her shoulders, keeping her grip around my waist.

The walk home was a blur of cold night air and the warmth of B's body next to mine, and I think I musta passed out, because the next thing I know, I'm staring up at the heart shaped water stain on the ceiling of my motel room. Which means that B carried me the rest of the way, and that's just damn embarrassing.

With great effort, I pull myself up, and lean against the headboard just as B comes striding out of bathroom with a glass of water and some aspirin. She smiles at me when she realizes I'm awake. I feel my chest ache.

That smile gets me every damn time.

"How're feeling?" She says, looking at me like she gives a shit. Which she does, the only one who has ever cared.

"Fucking shitty." I reply, my throat dry and scratchy. She gives me a knowing smirk and hands over the water and aspirin, and starts to talk as I down the water and capsules. Only, for some reason, I can't really hear anything she's saying. I'm just watching her lips moving up and down. That cute scrunchy thing she does with her nose. She's so pretty. I'm really close, and she has these flecks of green in her eyes.

"Faith? Faith? Helloooo, anyone there? Faith…um, you're kinda freaking me out- "

I reach up and cup her cheek, feeling her soft skin against my palm. She doesn't pull away, just looks at me with confusion etched in her features. I should stop, I need to stop, because I know, I know this can only end badly.

But instead I lean in slowly, and kiss her once, and then again, and then I'm pressing my lips against hers, my heart racing. This is such a bad idea, but it feels so good when she begins to move her lips gently against mine. Her fingers slowly tangle in my hair, and my hands slide up her arms and over her shoulders to wrap around her neck. She's so soft.

I begin to suck and nibble on her lower lip, and she whimpers. I feel nervous heat rush through me, settling in the pit of my stomach as she parts her lips and I slip my tongue inside. I begin to move my hands across her shoulders, over her collarbones, up and down her arms, along the flatness of her stomach.

I let one hand slowly stroke the taut muscle, and move lower, playing with the edge of her top as I suck on her tongue. I feel her tremble under my touch. But as soon my fingers slip under her tank, I feel her freeze up and she pulls away abruptly.

She stares at me with wide eyes, lips still parted and cheeks flushed. I lean into capture her lips again, but she turns her head, and my lips make contact with her jaw instead.

"I-I should go." She says standing abruptly. I catch her hand and pull her back.

"Wait, what'd I do? What's wrong?" Shit, shit shit. She's panicking.

"Wrong? What's wrong?! Faith, you're drunk. And – and I have a boyfriend! And, I'm n-not a – I don't…Look, that shouldn't have happened, okay? I have to go. I'll check on you tomorrow." She says, turning on her heel and practically running for the door. I feel frustration and misery gripping my throat. She can't do that, I'm not a fucking toy! She can't just turn me off when it's not all fun and games anymore.

"Yeah well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine, princess!" I shout at her retreating back. She stops with her hand on the doorknob, her shoulders tense.

"Goodnight, Faith." She opens the door, and closes it quietly behind her.

I punch the wall, and kick the lamp of the nightstand, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces, plunging the room into darkness.

I fall back onto the bed, and close my eyes. I won't fucking cry.

There's this hole of loneliness eating away at my chest.

I don't think I can do this anymore. I know I can't do this anymore. Tomorrow, I'm gonna hightail it the fuck outta this shithole, and get as far away as I can.

I'm not gonna wait around to get my heart stomped on.

part II coming later.