Chapter 38

Stretching, Dawn looked behind to see her naked paramour lying on the bed. Smiling to herself, she twirled around the bedroom like a ballerina. He laughed softly behind her.

"You're happy."

"Good sex always makes me happy."

His laughter stopped, not abruptly, but entirely. "Is that all this is? Good sex?"

She stopped her impromptu ballet recital to look at him. Putting her hands on her hips, she let her shoulders slouch a little and stared at him. "What is this supposed to be? What do you want it to be?"

Standing suddenly, he reached for his pants and started to violently pull them on. Her hands on his arms did not stop his movements. He finally stopped putting his shirt on when she started screaming.

"Will you stop yelling? They're going to think I'm killing you! Hell, that's all I need, the cops to come when the neighbors call 9-1-1!"

"Where are you going? Will, what's wrong?"

"I'm your sex object, that's what's wrong! I'm not your toy you can use whenever you feel like, Dawn! I'm not a damn dildo!"

She stopped dead. For a moment, the only sound in the room was that of her hand cracking across his face. Both their breaths were coming hard as Will realized there was a very rapidly warming spot on his face. Reaching out faster than she could comprehend, he grabbed her arms and spun her into the bed. She hit the mattress hard and felt him grab her to turn her over onto her back.

Fear rose in her momentarily as he straddled her, holding her wrists none to gently. "This is what it feels like to be used. You want me to be that man? I can be him again, you know. This is who I used to be. I wouldn't ask politely, I wouldn't care about your pleasure. I'd use you. That's what I did to your sister. Do you want that? I can do that."

She stared at him, shocked. "No. I don't want that." Before he could read her movements she swung one of her long legs around and caught the side of his face with her shin. She had almost dislocated her hip to do the movement, but it worked in throwing him off. She spun her backside just enough to get momentum and kicked him full force in the chest.

He went flying off the bed. She jumped a few feet away from him, crouched low to the ground. Even naked, she didn't feel intimidated by him. "I'm not my sister."

He stood slowly, anger plain on his face. "I never said you were you stupid bint. Don't treat me like I don't matter to you."

She straightened up and grabbed a sheet to draw around her. Somehow, fighting naked wasn't frightening; having an intimate conversation naked was awkward. "You matter. You matter more than I can say, Will. I just…god, this is hard. This can't get serious. It can't. Buffy would be devastated…and the others…no one would understand."

His fist smashed into the wall, sending tiny shards of plaster across the room. He heard her give a surprised yelp. Will's day after the Council meeting had mainly comprised of showing Connor leads for his familys' murder. It had been emotionally difficult work, especially when the young man had asked to see the crime scene photos. Will had felt raw and exposed all day; Connor's pain had been palpable and contagious. He had accompanied Dawn to her apartment after taking Connor home expecting to relax. Instead, he had felt even more exposed after their romp on the sheets.

"I'm tired of this! I'm tired of being your sex toy! I'm done, Dawn. This has either got to go further than drinks and sex or it has to stop completely. Do you understand? I can't keep doing this. Five, six years ago, I wouldn't have given this another thought if you had been the woman you are now. Today though, I can't do this. I can't be the man that doesn't give a damn any more!"

She waited for him to run out of air. With every word he spoke he seemed to deflate a little more. She could never admit it to him, but she was afraid of falling in love with him. Dawn had grown up in a world where love was painful and to be feared. Her parents had split, and not amicably. She had watched the saga of Buffy and Angel as a little girl and listened to her sister cry night after night for a long time. Dawn wasn't sure that love was a good thing. As far as she could tell it only led to pain and regret.

"Will…this won't work. You and I can't be together. I just…" She was cut off by his rapid movements toward the door. He had grabbed his shirt and shoes and was running down the stairwell before she had stepped through the doorway. She couldn't very well run down the stairs and into the street into a bed sheet and he knew that. He peeled away from the curb towards downtown before he could realize that his cheeks were wet.

Disgusted with himself, he slipped his shirt on at the first red light. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped the tears from his eyes and dried his face. He pulled into the parking lot of the loudest and most undiscriminating club on the strip. Buttoning his shirt entirely, he pulled his socks and shoes on in the parking lot. He looked rumpled and unkempt, but he entered the club none the less.

Ordering two large vodkas over ice, he found a small table in a corner and starting drinking. He was vaguely aware of time passing, but nothing seemed to matter at that moment. He was mourning a relationship that hadn't even existed, he knew, but he felt the need to mourn none the less. After six or seven drinks, he was a few sheets to the wind. It was then that he noticed an opening forming in the middle of the dance floor.

Craning his neck over the ledge in front of him, he looked down into the sunken dance floor. A woman in a tight tank top cut above her naval and black cargo pants and sneakers was dancing her heart out. She was doing something he vaguely recognized as hip-hop dancing. Watching her was intoxicating; she was moving her body in almost inhuman ways. It wasn't until the song changed and the crowd was roaring that he recognized who he had been watching.

Smiling drunkenly, he waved to her, trying to get her attention. When she finally noticed him, she gave him a wry smile and came to join him. He could smell that she had been drinking also.

"I can only do that when I'm plastered, you know." Taking a seat next to him, she ordered another drink.

"That was sexy, Faith."

"Yeah. I got into it in England. There's this whole underground movement thing there."

They drank and yelled over the music in order to talk to each other. After nearly half an hour of laughing and talking they headed to the dance floor. Will was an excellent dancer; he could move his hips in ways she had seen few men move. Wondering if that extended to other avenues of interest, she kept grinding with him.

Will was vaguely aware that he was grinding his personal areas into Faiths' behind. He could almost grasp that he drunk and flirting and grinding with a slayer he had once gotten into a knock down drag out fist fight with. Nothing registered in his drunken brain fully. Faith wasn't as drunk as Will, but she was certainly tipsy. Throwing her knee across his back, she forced her hips to do wave like motions into his groin area.

Will didn't entirely remember leaving the club. He didn't remember the cab ride at all. He had fleeting memories of tearing Faith's clothes off and watching her move her naked form over his. Standing in front of the mirror the next morning, his head pounding and his eyes burning, he tried to remember if they had had sex or just fooled around until he passed out. It didn't matter, he knew. It was over. Everything he could have built with Dawn was over after this affair.

Feeling her anger rise, he mentally told himself that she had ended it last night, not him. He reasoned that he hadn't cheated on her since she never said they had a relationship. In fact, he reminded himself, she had been the one to end whatever kind of relationship that did have. Rinsing his face with cold water, he left his bathroom and went into the bedroom. He had no idea what had possessed him to take Faith to his apartment instead of going to her hotel. Slapping himself mentally, he wondered what he was going to say to Faith when she woke up.

Looking into the kitchen, he saw her in his robe making coffee. Swallowing hard, he silently took a seat.

"I'll leave soon. I just need some coffee before I go."

Looking up, he let the surprise play across his features. "You don't have to go. I mean, I'm not kicking you out."

She laughed. "Yeah, they all say that, but secretly, you want me the hell out of here. You want me to go back to whatever corner I came from. I get it, its okay."

"It's not like that at all. Look, I'm sorry for what happened last night. I was out of line, I shouldn't have…"

"What? Knocked boots with me? Yeah, I know. No one should touch this; I'm no good for anybody. But listen, no hard feelings. We got drunk, had a good time. It's all good, right?"

She turned to look at him and saw the look on his face. She stopped her motions and just stared at him. "Who is she?"

Startled, he looked up from the table. "Who?"

"Whoever I was playing second fiddle to last night. I know that look when I see it."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It ended last night. I mean, she ended it. I…I don't know. I didn't go out looking to pick someone up. I just wanted to forget for a while."

Nodding, she poured the coffee. "I get that. Needing to forget how much you hurt for a while. I'm sorry I came on so strong. If I knew you were rebounding I never would have gone home with you."

He was about to speak when the doorbell rang. Rising up he went to answer the door in just track pants, his hair mussed and smelling faintly of sex and strongly of booze. When he opened the door, his breath stopped in his chest. Dawn was standing before him holding a white paper bag and a carrier with two cups of coffee in it. He could tell by the label that the coffee and pastry were from his favorite coffee shop downtown.

He went to speak when Dawn looked over his shoulder and saw Faith started to edge her way out of the kitchen. Will had to jump back to miss the scalding coffee that was unceremoniously dropped at his feet. The look on Dawn's face told him all he needed to know. The woman wasn't stupid by any means, and another woman wearing his bathrobe this early in the morning meant only one thing.

He tried to follow her over the flood of coffee spreading over his hardwood floors, but received angry words and even angrier fists for his efforts. Stopping in the hallway outside his apartment, he felt his heart break as he watched Dawn storm down the staircase and into the lobby. Swallowing hard, he grabbed his hair and fought the urge to pull it out.

Faith was on her hands and knees with a towel cleaning up the coffee. She hadn't felt this guilty in a very long time. Screaming at herself internally, she hoped she wasn't going to be the reason that Will and Dawn would split but secretly knew that she already was. When she looked up, she watched Will step over her and into the kitchen. She watched as he proceeded to break every dish within reach. He then moved onto the small appliances. His kitchen was a wreck, strewn with debris by the time he was done.

Wiping his face, he realized with frustration that his cheeks were damp. His hands were bleeding from broken glass and his head hurt. His heart hurt the worse, though. He felt as though it had been torn from his body and run over with a semi truck. Looking up, he finally realized that Faith was still there. It took her a split second to raise and go into the bedroom. It was another three seconds before she was dressed and heading out the door.

Will wanted to apologize to her. He wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault. Instead, he said nothing. He felt out of words. Going into the bathroom, he turned the shower on. Broken hearted or not, he still had to go to work.