FIC: When Buffy Met Faith 1/1
Title: When Buffy Met Faith 1/1
Author: Fray (thewishverse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Buffy/Faith
Timeline: near the beginning of Season 3
Summary: Buffy’s thoughts when she first meets Faith
Length: 588 words
Feedback: I would love feedback and constructive criticism.
Distribution: That would be great, but please ask first.
Disclaimer: All of it belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy.
Life was good. I was bonding with Mom after she stuck it to Snyder. Go Mom! English make-up exam: passed. Go me! Bronzing with my friends; the music was all swayable, my lip gloss all glossy. Cute high-school human boy asked me to dance. Life was good. Apart from unspeakable nightmares about stabbing the love of my life and sending him into the pits of hell. That actually wasn’t a dream. But apart from that, all was well with the world.
Then there was skin. Between the clinging black top and the practically painted on PVC pants. You know that strip of flesh that becomes exposed the more the wearer gyrates. And there was gyrating. And then, the most horrifying thing happened; for a moment, just a fraction of a mille-second; it didn’t hurt. I forgot about Angel. No metal was gouging out the insides of the belly I was watching.
Maybe someone spiked our drinks in the Bronze that night because I was drunk with a side of intoxicated. Tangling her hands in her own hair hips sidling into the guy. She oozed sex; I mean that’s weird right? But she oozed. And I couldn’t imagine ever feeling that free or that confident. There was something about her, like she was drawing me in. She didn’t once look at me but it was as if there was a thread between us. I felt connected to her.
And then the guy was removing that tantalizing band of flesh from my line of vision. Evil was most definitely afoot. I had to fight it. Led by the thread, I followed her out of the Bronze.
He wouldn’t get to bite her. I wouldn’t let him.
I was ready to swoop in with my stake when she threw him against the wall. I was entranced by the ease in her violence. Her brutality flowed like she was born to it, or something. There was power in her and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Then Oz, ever the voice of reason, said, ‘there’s a new Slayer in town.’ Oh! How come I didn’t realize that already? I didn’t get to rescue her from the big bad evilly dressed vampire. And the thing that’s unique about me she already is. I’ll admit I was all peeved when she grabbed my stake. I was redundant and pretty much speechless as she snatched it from my hand. Stakes are like my safety blanket, if safety blankets were wooden, pointy and a tool for ridding the world of all that is bad and demony. Well, at any rate, she took mine.
The dust flew from her clothes as she walked by. Couldn’t have done it without me? How dare she! Like a babysitter rewarding a kid for tidying up his toys after she’d put them away herself. I can put my toys away; as long as my toys are evil incarnate I don’t leave much lying around. I didn’t need the thrill of her fingers brushing mine as she returned my stake. I also didn’t need her to reassure me I’d helped out when I, you know, hadn’t.
I was angry. I wanted to hurt her. I could throw her up against the alley wall like she was putty. Scratch that strip of flesh above her hips with my fingernails; let her know the pain of being in charge. I would bite her lips reminding her I was in control and there was more to my life than some gyrating girl in PVC pants.
Author: Fray (thewishverse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Buffy/Faith
Timeline: near the beginning of Season 3
Summary: Buffy’s thoughts when she first meets Faith
Length: 588 words
Feedback: I would love feedback and constructive criticism.
Distribution: That would be great, but please ask first.
Disclaimer: All of it belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy.
Life was good. I was bonding with Mom after she stuck it to Snyder. Go Mom! English make-up exam: passed. Go me! Bronzing with my friends; the music was all swayable, my lip gloss all glossy. Cute high-school human boy asked me to dance. Life was good. Apart from unspeakable nightmares about stabbing the love of my life and sending him into the pits of hell. That actually wasn’t a dream. But apart from that, all was well with the world.
Then there was skin. Between the clinging black top and the practically painted on PVC pants. You know that strip of flesh that becomes exposed the more the wearer gyrates. And there was gyrating. And then, the most horrifying thing happened; for a moment, just a fraction of a mille-second; it didn’t hurt. I forgot about Angel. No metal was gouging out the insides of the belly I was watching.
Maybe someone spiked our drinks in the Bronze that night because I was drunk with a side of intoxicated. Tangling her hands in her own hair hips sidling into the guy. She oozed sex; I mean that’s weird right? But she oozed. And I couldn’t imagine ever feeling that free or that confident. There was something about her, like she was drawing me in. She didn’t once look at me but it was as if there was a thread between us. I felt connected to her.
And then the guy was removing that tantalizing band of flesh from my line of vision. Evil was most definitely afoot. I had to fight it. Led by the thread, I followed her out of the Bronze.
He wouldn’t get to bite her. I wouldn’t let him.
I was ready to swoop in with my stake when she threw him against the wall. I was entranced by the ease in her violence. Her brutality flowed like she was born to it, or something. There was power in her and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Then Oz, ever the voice of reason, said, ‘there’s a new Slayer in town.’ Oh! How come I didn’t realize that already? I didn’t get to rescue her from the big bad evilly dressed vampire. And the thing that’s unique about me she already is. I’ll admit I was all peeved when she grabbed my stake. I was redundant and pretty much speechless as she snatched it from my hand. Stakes are like my safety blanket, if safety blankets were wooden, pointy and a tool for ridding the world of all that is bad and demony. Well, at any rate, she took mine.
The dust flew from her clothes as she walked by. Couldn’t have done it without me? How dare she! Like a babysitter rewarding a kid for tidying up his toys after she’d put them away herself. I can put my toys away; as long as my toys are evil incarnate I don’t leave much lying around. I didn’t need the thrill of her fingers brushing mine as she returned my stake. I also didn’t need her to reassure me I’d helped out when I, you know, hadn’t.
I was angry. I wanted to hurt her. I could throw her up against the alley wall like she was putty. Scratch that strip of flesh above her hips with my fingernails; let her know the pain of being in charge. I would bite her lips reminding her I was in control and there was more to my life than some gyrating girl in PVC pants.