Fic: Omega Rising (14/16) (Buffy/Faith)
A/N: *Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* Thanks to cookiesarefood for her betaing skills.
Previously in Omega...
“See you real soon,” I promise, laying my hand over hers. I give it a final squeeze and head down the hallway. I jog down the stairs, feeling pretty confident. Just a little search and rescue and I’ll be back.
Chapter 14: Bedside Manner
I never thought I’d consider the fact that all the freeways are full of stalled out cars and we can’t go any faster than 20 miles an hour a good thing. But when you have Buffy behind the wheel, trust me, it is. At least I like to live dangerously. Any normal person would have peed their pants by now. All the perception and acute visual and spatial skills that come with the slaying gig seem to be out the window when she gets behind the wheel of a vehicle. She barely manages to avoid hitting every car on the road. As it is, she almost hit a dog (sideswiped a stalled out tanker swerving around it), basically destroyed the front of Cordelia’s car playing GTA with some zombies in the roadway, and knocked the driver’s side mirror off going through a not super narrow hole between cars. She also seems to think you’re supposed to steer directly into every pothole you see. I offered to drive, but Buffy reminded me I don’t have a license, and that was that.
So now we’re cruising along, looking like some driver’s ed what not to do video, on our way to hook up with some old friends. B filled me in on the rest of Cordelia’s vision-she saw the little boy in a warehouse with a bunch of other people and some vamps. I know more of the type of human “safe house” me, Wes, and Kim ran into will have popped up by now. But something tells me Helmet-face and his crew are a good place to start. Besides, we’ve got unfinished business.
“Hungry?” I ask, reaching into my pack for some snacks.
“Starved,” Buffy responds.
I’ve got the contents of a half empty vending machine stuffed in here, courtesy of the rest stop we just drove past, and I toss B a Snickers bar. A pitiful whine begins from the backseat, and I rummage around in the bag for a minute before I find some poptarts. Tearing the package open, I toss one into the backseat.
The dog, whose tag identifies her as Ginger, eagerly leaps on the poptart. I eat mine with slightly more restraint, shooting Buffy an irritated look. “I’m still hungry. Told you we shouldn’t have picked the mutt up.”
“We couldn’t just leave her out there,” Buffy argues. “She’d be eaten by a zombie!”
I could argue with her about how stupid it is to share our food supplies with this dog, or that she could outrun zombies anyway, or even what the hell we’re gonna do with her when we get to the vamp compound, but I don’t bother. Buffy reaches into the back and scratches Ginger between her ears, a soft smile on her face. If rescuing dogs is what gets her to smile like that, well, call me Faith the Dogcatcher.
A sudden swerve pulls me back to my senses. “B!”
“Sorry,” she puts both hands back on the wheel and smiles at me sheepishly. After a quarter mile of reasonably safe driving, Ginger whines again, and Buffy says, “Faith, more poptarts!”
Oh, for God’s sake. I dig around the bag, unearthing another pack. This time I give both to the dog. She gobbles them up and licks her chops, looking for more. “That was the last pack,” I tell her firmly.
Buffy’s slows the car down, scrutinizing the area carefully. “That one?” She asks, pointing to one of the nondescript buildings.
I don’t have to ask how she knows; I can feel my senses tingling too. “That’s it.” I glance at the rough sketch Cordelia drew. A cute little boy stands in front of what looks like a paneled wall.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Go in, kick ass, take the kid.” I toss the sketch back in the bag.
“I guess the time in prison didn’t improve your strategizing skills,” Buffy says dryly, as she parks the car haphazardly.
Very funny. “You got something better?”
“Nope,” she answers. “Let’s make with the ass kicking.”
We don’t go for the subtle approach, just march up to the building and kick the door in. Two vamp guards burst into flames as the light filters through the open entrance. Squealing in pain, one manages to stop, drop, and roll into the shadows. The other one turns to dust.
“Oops,” Buffy shrugs, grabbing the charbroiled vamp by the shirt and hauling him to his feet.
I lean into his face, smiling dangerously. “We need to see the boss.”
The trembling vampire doesn’t even protest, just leads us to the door in the back. He knocks and waits for a response.
“Yeah?” Comes the voice on the other side.
“Got somebody here to see Doug,” our hostage trembles under Buffy’s hands. Totally pathetic.
“Doug?” Buffy whispers, after we hear footsteps moving away from the door. “What kind of evil name is that?”
I give her an amused shrug while we wait for Doug’s appearance.
He doesn’t leave us hanging long. The door opens and Helmet-face appears, not looking entirely thrilled to see me. He recovers quickly though and flashes me a smirk. “Back so soon?”
I get down to business. “I’m looking for someone, and if you play real nice and tell me what I wanna know, maybe I won’t kill you."
He laughs, flicking his eyes over to his henchman. “Let him go.”
“Info first, negotiations later,” Buffy says tersely.
“Why should I believe you?” He asks.
Buffy ponders this a moment before she looks at me. “Faith, why should he believe us?”
“Dunno, B, I probably wouldn’t believe us.”
“Yeah…” Buffy rams a stake through the chest of the henchman. As his dust floats to the floor, she shrugs apologetically and says, “I guess that leaves the hard way then.”
I kick Doug’s knees hard before he can step out of my way. Buffy follows through with an elbow to the back of his neck.
As he sprawls on the floor, my boot comes down on his head. He thrashes like a fish out of water.
“Little boy,” Buffy tells him, “blonde, about ten. Where is he?”
“Like I’d tell you, fucking bit-” His words dissolve into a squeal of pain as I step fully onto his head.
“Watch your mouth,” I growl before putting one foot back on the ground.
Buffy crouches down in front of the vamp’s face and repeats herself, “Little boy. Blonde. Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Doug spits.
Buffy gingerly takes one of his hands in hers. “Is that the truth?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think, Faith?” Buffy asks, still holding the vamp’s hand.
“Think he’s lying,” I grind my boot into his face for good measure.
“I think you’re right,” Buffy says regretfully, and easily snaps one of his fingers.
“Fine!” Doug screams, thrashing again. “He was here! But he’s gone now!”
“Gone better not mean eaten, Doug,” Buffy warns, her hand cradling another of his fingers, “because I gotta tell you, we do not like it when people get eaten.”
“No, we do not,” I agree.
“It doesn’t!” Doug pants, trying to move his hand from Buffy’s grip. “He left, safe and sound.”
“Who’s he with?” I demand.
“His father,” Doug says. He’s singing like a canary now. “Guy didn’t want his kid paying the fee, so they stayed one night and then moved on.”
“Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know.”
Buffy pries back his finger and Doug squeals, “Fine! The guy said something about Downey!”
“Thank you,” Buffy says sweetly, releasing his hand to hop to her feet. “I think we’ve got what we need.”
I take my boot off the vamp’s head. He sits up, cradling his injured hand.
“Let’s go,” Buffy says, turning on her heel for the exit.
Doug lashes out suddenly, gripping Buffy’s ankle and dragging her down.
I’m on him in a second, my stake finding his heart before he has time to make another move. Shaking his dust from my clothes, I lend B a hand getting up.
“Nice moves,” she compliments.
I shrug, leading the way to the door. “You think we’re gonna find this kid?”
“Yeah,” she reassures me, leading the way outside…
…And right into hell.
Zombies are swarming our car, and I can hear Ginger barking inside. Buffy and I shrink back against the exterior wall of the warehouse. They haven’t spotted us yet. “Crap,” she mutters, “I should have listened to you. We won’t be able to get to her, and she’s going to die in-Faith!”
I’m running full speed at the car, having spotted an opening between the clawing bodies. I’m gonna get that damned dog out. I collide with the back door, my hand finding the handle immediately. Ginger’s smarter than I thought, and she jumps out as soon as she smells freedom. I snatch my pack from the seat and charge after her, slapping away the pawing hands of the dead. A few of them have been bowled over by the rest, and they grab at me from the ground where they’re getting trampled.
A hand hooks around my ankle, and I go tumbling to the ground. The zombie crawls toward me immediately, and I roll to get away. Something sharp on the ground slices through my shirt, cutting my abdomen.
Buffy’s legs appear next to me, and she slams her sword through the neck of the closest zombie. She holds out her hand, and I take it, letting her yank me to my feet.
“What were you thinking?” she shrieks, stabbing another of them as we race away from the horde.
“Did you want the dog to die?” I yell back, looking around to make sure the poor thing actually made it. Sure enough, Ginger gallops along beside us, her long tongue flapping in the wind.
“No,” Buffy shouts, “but I don’t want you to, either!”
In spite of the warmth of my blood spreading across my stomach, I scoff. “I ain’t checkin’ out, B. It’s a scratch!”
I can see her scowling at me, even though my vision is swimming a little bit. Maybe that scratch was deeper than I thought.
“Damn it, Faith,” Buffy crams herself under my shoulder none too gently, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Why do you always have to be so stubborn?”
“Part of my charm?” We’re jogging now, still a safe distance from the group behind us, but getting slower by the moment.
Buffy huffs as she pulls me up the street. “You know,” she grits out, as my feet begin to go cold and I lean more heavily on her, “me saving your ass is becoming a habit.”
I can’t feel my lips when I try for a flirty smirk. “You like saving me, B, admit it.”
She smiles a little but mostly she looks worried. In the road ahead of us, a few of the dead are shambling our way. Blood coats my shirt. It’s like I’ve got a neon flashing “BUFFET” sign above my head. Buffy stops, adjusting her grip on me, and looks around. “Come on,” she says, spotting something she likes. “Ginger!”
The dog follows at our heels as B pulls us both to a nearby fire escape.
“I need you to focus now, Faith,” Buffy tells me urgently, “I don’t think I can get you up these stairs.”
Right. The fire escape dangles slightly off the ground. Buffy places my limp hand on the railing and nudges me forward. The sounds of moaning zombies reach our ears, and I try to look how close they are.
“Hey,” Buffy shoves me forward, “don’t worry about them. Move.”
I drag myself up the first few steep stairs. Buffy presses in behind me, her strong hands on my waist, pushing and pulling at me. We advance up several more. On the ground, the dog barks sharply, alarmed.
“Keep going,” Buffy encourages. With one arm around my waist, she practically heaves me forward onto the landing. My abdomen shrieks in pain when her forearm presses against me, and I drop to my hands and knees. Through the metal grating of the landing, I see Buffy leap back down the fire escape and snatch the dog into her arms. The zombies are almost on them. Buffy jumps onto the stairs, one hand grabbing the rails as she tries to hold the wriggling dog with her other arm. She plows straight up, depositing the dog on the landing next to me and moving immediately to yank the rusty stairs upward. The metal creaks and moans, but it budges, sliding slowly upward as she applies a little slayer strength.
The bodies on the ground reach upward, but it’s too late. The ladder is out of their reach. My blood seeps through the grating under me, dripping onto the frantic dead people below. They moan happily, all shoving each other out of the way, trying to get to the falling blood.
“Sick,” Buffy mutters. She walks across the landing to peer in a window. Satisfied with what she sees, she kicks through the glass and hops inside. While she’s gone, the dog nudges me with her wet nose. Whining softly, she lays beside me. I thread my fingers into her fur, trying to stay conscious in spite of the pain in my abdomen and the blood I can feel sliding down my sides.
Buffy pokes her head back out the window. “All clear,” she says, climbing out. “Let’s get you inside and patched up.”
I let her haul me up and help me through the window. The dog hesitates but jumps in after us, wagging her tail as she follows us. We’re in somebody’s apartment, and Buffy deposits me on the couch, immediately rooting through my pack for any first aid supplies. The supply is meager, but if Buffy’s worried, she doesn’t show it.
She tears my shirt open, and I want to make a crack about her wanting to see my tits. I love making her blush. But I’m so tired; I don’t have it in me right now.
“Okay,” she says with only the slightest tremor in her voice. “You’re gonna be fine.”
I glance down at my wounds. “Oh, my God!” There’s a huge piece of flesh torn away, and I can see some pink stuff.
“It’s nothing!” Buffy reassures me. “You’re gonna be fine!”
“Easy for you to say,” I cry, “that’s not your uterus on display.”
“That’s not your uterus,” Buffy scoffs, and then looks at my stomach thoughtfully. “No,” she concludes, “definitely not uterus.”
Buffy sprays a little antiseptic on a rag from my pack, and then mops away the blood around the perimeter of the gaping hole in my belly.
“Does it matter?” I wince. “I can see internal organs. That cannot be good.”
“That’s why I’m going to stitch you up,” she replies in exasperation. Her bedside manner could use some serious work.
She threads a needle she’s pulled out of the bag. “You’ve lost a blood; you should really be in a hospital.”
“None of those anymore,” I reply softly, closing my eyes as the needle pierces my skin.
“That’s okay,” Buffy sews carefully, her voice very calm. “You’ve got me.”
I try to smile. “Maybe I can get you in a nurse’s outfit.”
Buffy lays a hand on my upper abdomen. “Maybe if you stay still long enough for me to finish.”
Trying to keep still, I ball my hands into fists. I know she’s not serious about that, but just the fantasy is enough to distract me from the pain.
XXXXX
When I wake up in the darkness, I don’t know where I am. I stay very still, trying to use my other senses to determine my location and if there’s danger.
“Hey,” Buffy’s voice comes from below me, and she flicks on a small flashlight. She’s lying on the floor next to the sofa. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I croak. “How long have I been out?”
“A while,” Buffy rustles around and then hands me a bottle of water. “The sun went down a few hours ago.”
I gulp it down greedily.
“How’s the stomach?” Buffy asks.
“Feels okay,” I peel back the sheet I’m laying under and peer at my stitches. They’re red and irritated, but definitely healing.
“Good,” Buffy replies, flipping off the flashlight. Now that my eyes have adjusted, I can see her pretty well without it. Buffy sits up, leaning her arm onto the couch next to me. “That was pretty stupid,” she informs me, “saving the dog, I mean.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Her hand slides across the couch to rest on my thigh.
“B?”
Her eyes meet mine in the dark. “Really stupid,” she says, squeezing my leg lightly.
I sit up at the same time as she climbs onto the couch. We nearly bump heads. I hesitate just a moment before leaning in to kiss her.
Buffy responds enthusiastically, pressing against me. Her hand leaves my leg, reaching for my waist instead. My head’s spinning, and it’s hard to tell if that’s from blood loss or Buffy. I’ve been fantasizing about this girl for two years; that’s some heavy shit. It’s probably her.
B squeezes me a little too tight, and my stitches tug. Wincing, I break the kiss.
“What?” She whispers. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. My hands are moving of their own accord across her back, and I’m trying to tell myself to slow down, be smart, talk to her. “What are we doing?” For the first time in my life, my brain wins over my libido.
Buffy hesitates, and I decide to say fuck my brain.
“You know what, I don’t care,” I reach for her, ignoring the pain in my stomach and kiss her hard. I don’t know why B’s suffering temporary insanity, but best to not wake her up from it.
“Faith,” she mumbles against my mouth, “stop.”
Fucking brain.
She studies me in the darkness, her little hands still grasping my waist. “I just… I want to feel something… good.”
“I can do that,” I promise softly, starting to draw her back into my arms.
“I think so, too.”
I try to follow her logic. “Because I saved the dog?”
She smiles a little, trailing her fingers up my side and over my arms. “Among other things.”
“I’m gonna give that dog all the poptarts she wants tomorrow,” I vow before brushing my mouth across her neck.
Pressing back on my shoulders, Buffy guides me onto my back. She straddles my hips, careful not to hit my stitches, and buries her face in my neck.
I turn my head to give her better access. My whole body feels like it’s singing. Buffy’s tongue sweeps up the side of my throat to my ear lobe. She gets her teeth involved, nipping lightly.
I can’t help myself; my hips buck up. My hands slide up her waist, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her belly.
B’s hips push down against mine, slowly grinding. One hand’s wound in my hair, pulling it sharply whenever I show any signs of moving away from her mouth. The other one glides down my bare side, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
My eyes are open, but I can’t focus on anything except Buffy on top of me. The throbbing around my stitches is drowned out by the thrumming between my thighs.
My fingers move without me telling them to, tugging up on the back of her shirt insistently. When B sits up, she fits over me like a rider in a well-worn saddle, totally comfortable as she pulls her shirt over her head. She flips open the front clasp of her bra and tosses it aside without a second thought.
I’m practically drooling at her. She’s the tiniest, most perfect thing. I pull her down, eager to get to her tits, and her jean-clad leg rubs against my stitches. “Fuck,” I sputter.
“Here, let me…” Buffy shifts, moving her knee and leaning over me so her boobs dangle in front of my face. Her displaced knee slides between my legs. Buffy’s not shy; she presses right up against my pussy. My muscles tighten, and I have to stifle a moan. I squeeze her to me, crushing her tits against my face. My mouth finds one pink, pebbled nipple, and I give it a hard suck.
“Unf,” Buffy exhales against my hair, pressing her knee insistently into me.
She pulls away too soon, and I want to protest. But Buffy’s flicking open the button on my jeans and unzipping the fly. She slides her fingers beneath my underwear and goes right for the kill, managing to slide two fingers inside me.
“Fuck,” I cry out, “God, B.”
She bites her lip and smiles.
Not about to be shown up, I grasp the fly of her jeans and yank it apart. Her button goes flying, and the pants split wide open. Grinning at her shocked expression, I slip inside her panties and find her clit.
“Mmm,” Buffy moans, getting over her surprise rather quickly. With my free hand, I press down on her back so I can kiss her again. It’s a bruising kiss; neither of us can get close enough.
Buffy’s concentration falters when I start circling her clit faster. Her hips bump in rhythm with my movements. Tearing my mouth free, I bury my face in her throat. “You like that?” I ask, pleased by her reaction.
Never one to turn down a challenge, Buffy ups the ante. Her palm grinds down on my clit, her fingers stretching me wide as she manages to hit all my spots with one hand.
My head rolls to the side as I cry out. Buffy braces her free hand against the couch behind my head, fucking me slow but hard. My rhythm’s all fucked up, my fingers slide directionlessly up and down her wet slit. I’m kissing her breasts, her shoulders, her fucking armpit, whatever I can reach. Buffy picks up the pace, and her nails scratch me a little as she fucks me. The pain is white-hot and searing, and it almost makes me come on the spot.
“Faith,” Buffy demands above me, “I want you to come. Come for me.”
That does it. My pussy clamps down on her fingers, and my thighs close around her hand like a vice. My whole body trembles as the orgasm cascades through me. My fingers curl reflexively in her panties, and Buffy’s hips buck against them.
“Jesus,” I say, when I can speak. Her pleased face looks down at me, fingers still tucked in my underwear.
She grins back. Her smile widens when I start moving my fingers again. I shove my hand further into her panties, jamming two digits in her without warning. B moans, leaning backward so she can press her pussy against my hand. “Deeper,” she pants.
I oblige, thrusting my fingers as far into her as I can get. I maneuver my thumb to her clit, sliding over the sensitive flesh with every pump of my fingers. B bends further backward, bracing her hands behind her. Her legs are spread as far as they can with her tattered jeans still on. I sit up, wrapping my free arm behind her and supporting her back. The view ain’t half bad either; her tits jiggle with every thrust.
With Buffy, I can pull out all the stops. No more worries about hurting someone with my slayer strength. I fuck her harder than I’d have dared with anyone else.
She’s chanting my name like a prayer, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I kiss and lick the sweaty skin of her stomach while I piston my fingers in and out of her hot, wet pussy. It’s fucking heaven. I don’t care if I pop every stitch in my stomach doing it.
“God, Faith,” Buffy moans as her body starts to tense up. Her knees grip either side of my legs. Her tits jut upward as she throws her head back. “Faith!” She almost wails as her pussy squeezes my fingers rhythmically.
She collapses back against my legs, her body bent like a gymnast’s. I slowly ease my hand free of her underwear, leaving my sticky fingers resting on her mound.
The throbbing in my abdomen starts to drift back into my consciousness, and I ease myself back against the couch. I touch the wound with my clean hand, relieved to find it still closed.
“You okay?” Buffy asks breathlessly.
“Yeah,” I assure her, “I’m perfect.”
XXXXX
This chapter was posted a little early because I will be out of town during my usual posting time. :) Thank you very much to everybody that’s left me such kind reviews. Reading them puts me in such a good mood-so good in fact that Tara may come out of this story alive! ;) I know a lot of people were enjoying the slow build up between B/F, so let me assure you, this chapter is totally heat of the moment. We’re not done building yet. Please let me know what you thought! :D