author notes: oh dear. well, I'm not so sure what the hell this one is about. I'm starting to think I have a thing for dream fics.

anyway...I wasn't sober in the strictest sense when I wrote it. I read it the next day and was like...wtf? but, I cleaned it up some, so maybe now it makes sense now. I don't know. sorry for the long delay in between updates.

Italics means Buffy's thoughts...I guess.

disclaimer: Buffy and all her little friends belong to Joss, Fox, Mutant Enemy, etc., I'm just having fun with them. Title belongs to Kill Hannah.

Timeline: whenever.

Love You To Death

"Well this is…new."

Black and white squares line the floor, the white checks eerily aglow in the ultraviolet black light that illuminates the room. Crooked walls rise on all sides of you and the neon furniture is warped and out of proportion. Everything too big or too small.

Your silky blue dress and white apron. It feels familiar doesn't?

You remember this story.

A hole. In the center of the room, pitch black and no telling how deep it goes. How far you would fall. Rabbit hole. It's getting bigger, you can tell. Slowly but surly, the diameter expanding, tiles slipping away into the darkness. This room getting smaller by the moment, walls enclosing and twisted chairs and tables are creeping up on you. It's suffocating.

"Hiya, B."

You spin around to find your dark friend leaning casually against the wall.

Her body surrounded by the amethyst glow of the ultraviolet paint on the wall behind her. Cherry lips curled into a wolfish grin. Kohl-rimmed, dirty eyes keep you glued to your spot, breath hitching. Intense.

Warm buzzing making everything cloudy. You shake your head. Keep focused.

"Where are we Faith?" You cross your arms. Vulnerability under her gaze. She always makes me nervous. The first things you notice are the bunny ears attached to the headband in her hair. It would look ridiculous on her normally, but the twisted Playboy bunny look sort of goes with the scenery.

"Looks like we're in Wonderland, 'Alice'." She pushes off the wall.

Fuck-me heels echo across checkered tiles, a feral smile bright in the black light. You can't move.

Rushing, buzzing, dizzy hot. Hazy, dazy heat. It feels intoxicating. It feels so good.

Your eyes drift down her slinky black cut-off top to her flat stomach. Dark ink stains alabaster, just below her navel. It says "Drink me." Want to.

The fuzziness settles in, a heartbeat sounding unusually slow in the surreal glow of the room. My heartbeat. This heat, this exhilarating heat. It fits you like a second skin. You didn't even realize how close Faith had gotten, so caught up in this blissful buzz, this adrenaline. Too caught up in the pitch black letters in her skin. And then you're no longer seeing a tattoo. You're running your eyes up her taut body, you're seeing whiskey eyes. So. Close.

She smiles wider, eyes shining and white teeth, her canines almost too sharp. Like a hunter.

She uncrosses your arms for you and at this point, you vaguely think you should take a step back. But you don't.

You won't.

Instead, your eyes lock to hers. Skin flushing. Sparks skittering up your spine as her arms snake around your waist and pull you against her tight body. So. Close.

Shivering when silky locks tickle your collarbones as she buries her nose in crook of your neck. Breathing in your pulse.

Bite me. I want to feel it…

Your eyes close, a rush like no other tearing through your veins as soft lips press to your shoulder. Making you dizzy, making you shake. Making you want. She's kissing your neck, she's burning your skin. It feels so good it almost hurts. Sucking, biting, kissing. So good.

Currently, your mind is still playing catch up.

"Faith...? What, w-what are you…uh…" You trail off, voice shaky, so not in control. You feel her stop and chuckle huskily into the column of your neck, lips curling into a smirk in your skin. You shudder, hands moving to grip her wrists where they rest on your hips. Needing to hold onto something as the assault continues. Up and down your throat where the blood races. Teeth dig into your collarbone and you dig your nails into her wrists. When she reaches that oh-so-sensitive spot under your ear and licks it, you can't choke back the quiet mewl. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"So, you ready to fall down the rabbit hole, Buffy?" She whispers in your ear, with her cigarette/sex voice, extending your name in a way that makes your head spin. It sounds so raw.

It's that rawness that shakes you from the lust haze. The rawness. So real. Can't…

You pull away sharply, dropping Faith's wrists and taking a step back. Breathing. Finally.

"What the hell are we doing here?" You demand, hating how shaky your voice still sounds. You need all the control you can get right now.

Faith pouts, disappointed you don't want to play anymore, but her eyes don't lose the impish gleam. She walks away and runs a finger along a glowing and contorted table.

"Well...seems to me I was just givin' ya a wicked nice hickey, and you were lettin' me."

"I-I didn't mean…The room Faith, why are we in this room. Where are we?" You say, flustered and annoyed. Funny how fast she can take you from horny to aggravated.

"Dunno, B. It's your dream. You tell me." Her voice fakes indifference, but her eyes can't.

"It feels real." You say, sounding unsure. Anything is possible in Sunnydale. You know this for a fact. This could be a dream. Or this could be just another way for the newest Big Bad to fuck with you. Your life could be in peril at this very moment. Just another day on the Hellmouth.

Faith turns to face you, cocking her head to the side and studying you intently, the mischievous glow gone from her eyes for a short moment. You suddenly find yourself missing the feeling of her lithe body against your own, the safety/danger of the contact. The warm buzz. Faith.

"Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't." She says, apathy dripping from her tone as she reaches into her back pocket and pulls a shiny gold watch from it, releasing the catch and gazing at its face. Her brows furrow and her features cloud over, eyes somber as she shuts it again. She begins to swing it so that the chain wraps itself around her fingers, before swinging it in the opposite direction, unwinding.

She doesn't look at you anymore. It feels cold.

"Look, Faith, we need to get out of here, that thing is getting bigger by the moment." You say, glancing over at the expanding hole warily.

"C'mon B, y'know how this story goes. We're late, we're late." She holds up the shiny pocket watch.

"For what?"

She wavers a moment, before pushing the watch back into her pocket, chain hanging out.

"The tea party." She looks at you, eyes no longer dancing with danger, but serious, almost forlorn. You blink in confusion, confused by her abrupt shift in mood.

"We're never gonna make it if you don't take the plunge, B."

"We're never gonna make what?"

Faith shakes her head in frustration, looking into your eyes, trying to make you understand.

"Do you trust me?" She asks, ignoring your question.

"Yes."

She smiles slightly, and then glances at the spreading abyss. From the moment her lips curl into that tiny grin, you feel a shift. The haze lifting and nothing but clarity is left in its wake. The rabbit hole.

Faith takes a step back, and holds out her hand, as it gets bigger and bigger behind her. Swallowing the room.

You don't hesitate, slipping your hand into Faith's. Safety/danger.

She leads you to the edge. You should be scared…but you're not. It feels right.

"On the count of three?" You ask. It all makes perfect sense now. This is the way it's supposed to go. The Chosen Two.

She smiles at you, all dimples and honesty. She counts down, eyes never leaving yours, and when she hits one, you close your eyes and jump,

Your hand still holding tightly to hers. Falling.

And then you're waking, heart hammering and blinking in the warm sunshine spilling from the window onto your bed. A bed you happen to be sharing with a still very much asleep Faith.

Which means that the dream was probably not of the shared variety, and in this moment, you're not really sure if you're relieved or disappointed.

You wonder for a split second why she is here, in your bed, before recalling your suggestion that she stay over last night after the slayage. For pizza and slayer bonding, of course. Right.

As you study the younger girl sleeping next to you, so unguarded, so vulnerable, the lingering feelings of hot desire and nervous energy come back tenfold. Remnants of your trip to 'Wonderland.'

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is reaching out and you are ghosting fingertips across her pale cheek, along the curve of her neck. Over her shoulder and down the smooth skin of her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in your wake. Faith's eyebrows knit together and she mumbles something incoherent in her sleep. It makes your chest clench and breath catch. Uh oh.

You reach over again and shake the girl gently, suddenly wanting to hear her voice. Wanting normality, somewhere away from these heart-racing, heart-aching feelings.

"Faith…Faith, wake up."

She groans and turns over. You roll your eyes and shake her again.

"Lemme alone…" She grumbles, curling into herself. You smile slightly, and dammnit, there are those flutters in full swing.

"C'mon, wake up sleepyhead, I need to talk to you." You shake her harder and she finally rolls over, opening her eyes.

"Huh, whu?" She asks, blinking in the light, throaty voice thick with sleep and looking adorably confused. Flutter.

She gazes at you expectantly, the sunlight from the open window highlighting her russet locks and catching the gold flecks in her eyes. It's in this moment that you realize you haven't really thought of anything to say. Oops.

"I, uh, I had an…odd dream…and I just thought you should know that. Because, well, I wanted to tell you…which is why I woke you up. Hence the conversation we're having right now. Well, I mean I'm the only one talking, so I suppose it's not technically a conversation…yet. So I should probably shut up soon, because um, then you can start talking and, uh, share your thoughts. And, you know…commence the conversation. A-and I'm also running out of air…So, um…the end?" You finish awkwardly, wondering just when the hell you started channeling Willow.

Faith, still blinking owlishly in the morning light, quirks an eyebrow and runs her fingers through mussed hair.

"Funny ya should mention that B, cuz I was havin' some hella weird dreams myself. I'm talkin' acid trip freaky. Ya ever read Alice in Wonderland?"