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My heart's a tart
Your body's rent
My body's broken
Yours is bent
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Garden: Aftermath [15 Jul 2005|06:25am]
[ mood | sore ]

"She must be down this way."

That's the first sound I hear when I start coming to after a long night of almost end of the world festivities. Still chained up like a damn dog, I couldn't do anything but watch when the big rumble went down. I gotta admit, I thought we were all toast for a while there. The second that big rock came to life with the swirling vortex, I saw my whole miserable life flash before my eyes. Everything from mom's drinking to the night I lost my virginity played across the movie theater in my head like a fuckin' 3-D IMAX flick.

I was ready for the grim reaper to take my hand drag me down to Hell with Buffy and Angelus when the fireworks fizzled and Angelus was dust. B ran out with her boytoy trailing after her like a trained puppy and I was left here, in the crypt, half-conscious and freezing my ass off. You think they could've at least covered me up with something thicker than a sheet, you know?

I spent the next few minutes cruising in and out of consciousness, delirious from pain and blood loss. Couldn't even feel my wrists at that point; couldn't really feel much of anything. Just cold and with this wicked ache in my bones. I knew I looked like Hell -- all pale from blood loss and bruised a pretty shade of black-and-blue. B's little prank with that headstone didn't help much with my look either. Princess is so gonna pay for that the second I get out of here and can stand on my own feet again. Girl totally played me! Made me think that she was all over the two of us being together when all she really wanted was to clock me in the head and feed me to her vampire boyfriend. Wonder how her perfect whitebread boyfriend is gonna react to that one. Bet Giles won't be too thrilled to hear about it, either. So when I hear the old man's voice, I'm fuckin' ecstatic!

"Over here, Willow, this looks like the room."

The voice is decidedly British and pompous -- a clear sign that the G-man is here to come to my rescue. I try to open my mouth to say something, but the only sound that comes out is this wicked wimpy sounding moan. If I wasn't seven shades of white right now, I'd so be blushing. I mean, here I am, tied up and naked, barely able to lift a hand or open my mouth, and my heroes come in the form of a fifty something British priss and his geeky little red-haired teacher's pet.

Man, if Wesley's here, I'm gonna hope that the hits I took in the head cause permanent brain damage and I end up taking that trip to the great beyond after all. The last thing I need is that wuss seeing me like this and lecturing me on how I should've been more careful. I know, okay? I let my guard down and I paid. Got one incredible orgasm out of it, but it didn't really beat out all the rape and torture afterwards. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that one. I played the part of a vampire's bitch for the better part of the night, I *know* I fucked up at this point. Next times I decide to run off half-cocked, I'll take back up.

"Are you sure, Mr. Giles? I mean, I don't see.... OH GOD!" I hear the brainiac squeak out. Guess that means they found me, huh? I'm so bummed out about it that I fake unconsciousness. "Is she...?"

And just as she's about to ask if I'm kibbles 'n bits, I feel Giles warm fingers press up against the pulsepoint on my neck.

"No," he answers with a hint of relief. I'm almost touched that the old man actually gives a damn beyond the head I gave him last month after class. "Her pulse is steady. A touch weak, but it's there."

There's a long silence that follows. I hear some shuffling as Giles gets back up on his feet and the sound of Red's heavy breathing. I must be pretty bad off if the chick's practically hyperventilating. Then I hear it, the sound of disbelief in her shaky tone.

"Did Buffy really do all this?" she asks... and the bitch couldn't be more naive. You'd think that after B beat her up, she'd get the clue that her bestest pal had gone bad.

No reply from Giles, but there is the clank of metal hitting metal and then my numb hands hit the ground, free from their shackles. Way to go, Giles! Pulling out the big guns to free naughty slayer Faith. Still can't feel a damn thing, but I'll take this over being tied up any day. Warm hands cover up my cold ones as they start to massage the life back into them. Aww, check that out -- I even get the tender love 'n care stuff from the guy. Maybe he really does dig me after all.

"Willow, if it's possible, do you think you could look around and see if there's some more... adequate covering for Faith?"

A pause, and then: "Oh, yeah, sure. Definitely! I'll, um, just go and check back in the bedroom. I think I saw blankets there."

The scurry of feet across cement signal Willow's exit and then it's just me and Giles. I wonder how bad I look, but don't get much time to linger when Giles starts speaking to me.

"Faith, Faith, are you alright?" He sounds wicked concerned; ends up pulling my head in his lap so his hands can move up to caress my face. I keep on faking long enough to get a, "Faith, come on, love, you're safe now. We're all here to bring you back to the Academy."

"You're late," I croak out, my eyes still squeezed shut. "Where were you six hours ago?"

I open my eyes then to shoot an accusatory look at him. Yeah, it's all good and nice that the cavalry's here for the aftermath, but where were they when Angelus had me backed up against a wall, ramming into me so hard I could see the blood streaming down my legs afterwards? Where were they when he bit down on me and practically drained me to death? With all the holes in my body, I'm surprised I'm still here to see the sun rise. I know it ain't fair to play the blame game, but I'm really not seeing the wrong in it after all I've been through.

"Yes, yes, I know... and I really am quite sorry. We all are... we just hadn't the faintest idea that Buffy and Angelus had captured you at first or that the ritual was starting so soon. By the time we realized what had happened and formulated a plan, it was, well, too late as you must be thinking right now."

"You don't have any idea what I'm thinkin' right now," I reply back gravely.

I'm too tired for this shit. I don't want apologies. All I want is to get the feeling back in my legs so I can get up, walk out of this town, and never look back. I knew this whole set up would end up being a total bust. A better life, they said -- that's what they could give me. Well, I'm really feeling that right now. You can change the scenery, hand out better food and give me a decent place to stay, but it's still all the same bullshit. You can dress it up how you want, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm curled up naked on a cold cement floor, not any better off than I was in South Boston.

"You're right," Giles gives in with a deep sigh. "I probably don't understand what you could possibly be going through right now, but I want you to know that I am here. We all are."

Blah, blah, blah. Cut the crap, Grandpa. I don't have the energy to argue, so I just close my eyes and turn away. It's the best I can do at this point. Giles sighs again and the redhead comes back with some blankets. No one says a word as Gramps covers the sheet with a big fat comforter and rolls me up in it like a human burrito. I'm fading fast by the time he hoists me up into his arms and calls out to someone about bringing the car around. If they bring me to a hospital, I'll fucking kill somebody. They're just flesh wounds, you know? Give me a hot bath, something to eat, and slayer healing will do the rest.

* * * * *


I don't wake up again until it's dark outside. I'm alone, and in a bedroom that sure as Hell ain't mine. The bed is huge, probably king-sized, and smells funny. Like tea and old books and... whiskey? Whatever. I'm just glad that I'm somewhere in the Academy and not in a fucking hospital bed somewhere. Giles must've cleaned me up and found me clothes, because when I look down at myself under the pile of blankets covering me up; I'm clean, bandaged, and covered up in somebody's old T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Man, whoever put these clothes on me sure as fuck doesn't know a thing about fashion. I feel like a fucking prude in this get up. Bet it was Wes; he's *always* telling me to cover up and wear something more slaying appropriate... like sweatpants. I can kick in my leathers, so I don't get what his deal is. It's not like I'm out there in platform shoes and miniskirts like B. Makes for a fun patrol when I get a peek at her panties, but I'll never get how she can run in those heels.

Something cold and angry wells up in me at just the thought of Buffy and I curse to myself, the memories of last night all coming back to hit me in a red hot fury. I have to get out of here. Out of this school, out of this town, out of this whole fucking state. I don't want to deal with this people, knowing what happened and looking at me like I'm some poor helpless victim when I'm the goddamned slayer over here! I don't need their pity. I don't need anyone's fucking pity! I just got tricked, you know? I thought we'd fuck and then fight a little and go home. I didn't expect B to have some master plan in mind when we met up in that cemetery. I didn't even think vamps were into doing... doing that. I mean, the guy wanted to end the world. Where does fucking fit into that equation? He's got his blonde bitch for that. Buffy too, if she ever dropped the prude act long enough to actually enjoy herself. What happened was a fluke, a total and utter fluke. It wasn't supposed to go down like that. If I just get out of here, put enough distance between his dust and my feet, then maybe I can forget this whole thing ever happened.

I'm already in my room, tossing clothes and weapons into a bag when I hear a loud knock on my door. I freeze mid-packing and wait. If I'm quiet enough, maybe they'll just go away. But then there's another knock, this one louder, and with a voice attached to it. Fuck. Here I thought this would be easy.

"Faith?" Giles calls out. "I know you're in there. I brought you some tea if you'd like something to drink."

Tea, fucking tea. Who does he think I am? Another watcher? I laugh bitterly and shake my head, yelling back, "Get lost, Gramps. Not in the mood to play tea party with you and Wes right now."

And then the bastard opens my door and steps inside, uninvited, with a steaming hot mug of tea gripped securely in his hands. He looks surprised to see me up on my feet already, and even moreso to see me packing. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah," I reply, tone cold and flat. "Out of here."

Maybe he'll get the hint now. He just looks at me, concerned as fuck, and loses the mug on the Academy issues dresser that was in every potential slayer's bedroom. I ignore his stare the best I can, flinging my clothes in my duffel with little care for neatness. Just gonna get dirty anyway, so why bother? I chuck a few stakes from the chest at the end of my bed in there, just for good measure, and start pulling out my bras from the top drawer. Maybe the sight of a few wonderbras and thongs will be enough to get him out of my hair. But he stays, not even turning his head as I empty the drawer. Man, what a dirty bastard! I knew that uptight thing of his was just an act. He gets off on watching me and B train; I've seen it in the way he looks at me sometimes. Wes too, but it doesn't take much to get him blushing. Boy needs to get laid and bad.

"Do you mind?" I ask, completely irritated by his unwavering presence in the doorway. "Don't you have other slayers to panty raid?"

"Where are you going to go, Faith, at this time of night and in your condition? How will you even pay for a motel room? Or a bus ticket?"

"I'll figure something out," I reply tersely.

The bags all packed, so I zip it up and toss it on the floor. There's one outfit left lying out on the bed for me -- low slung blue jeans and simple white tank. Got my leather jacket there, too. Now I just gotta change. The shirt's long enough that when I slip the sweats off, it keeps me covered up from mid-thigh up. I slide into the jeans quickly, wincing when I feel a slight pull between my legs. Fuckin' Angelus, just had to screw me to the point of feeling like a recently popped virgin all over again. So much for it only hurting the first time.

"No one blames you for what happened," he says softly in a voice meant to soothe, but it just pisses me off more.

"Dude, if you think that's why I'm leaving, then you're blinder than I thought. Might want to check up on that prescription, Giles, because you're about a million miles away from the truth. I don't give a fuck what you, or they, or anybody thinks! You took too long, so I went after them on my own and got screwed over. That's all there is to it. If anybody's at fault here, it's all of you for not seein' that B went off the deep end sooner! I'm not even her friend and I knew she was seriously losin' it over the whole mom thing. So don't even talk to me about blame, I'm the one that got caught in the crossfire for *your* mistake."

Giles stays cool while I fly off the handle, screaming my head off and tossing the rest of my stuff around like I'm staging a remake of the Boston Tea Party. His arms cross and he stares at me in that steely British way, annoying the crap out of me for the millionth time since he walked through my door.

"Then enlighten me. Since I am far too near-sighted to see the reason for your departure, why don't you inform me of your reasons? We're all adults here, Faith. We can talk this out reasonably. If you are unhappy with the way we run things here at Garden, perhaps we can find a more agreeable assignment for you. There's evil all over the world; there's no reason why you must stay here. The Council would be happy to reassign you to another city."

Hmm, tempting offer, but I'm gonna have to pass. Who's to say this whole damn operation isn't a bust? I'm done with Academies and Watchers and Apocalypses. There's a reason I dropped out of high school, you know? I don't do good with authority. We just don't click. I do even worse in organized set ups like this. I know how to fight; I don't need all this training bullshit.

"Your precious Council is exactly why I want out!" I shoot back in a yell. "I don't need some old man telling me what to do every second of my life! I can do this gig on my own. I never asked to be taken out of Boston and brought out to some bumfuck little town like this. Your Council dragged me out here against my will! I was doin' just fine before I got shouldered with all this save the world crap. I'm leaving because I gotta take care of me, not some world that I'm supposed to give myself up to because somebody out there waved their magic wand and decided to give me a little extra something with my Wheaties one morning."

"So you have one bad night and want to throw it all away? You're going to let one bad night destroy everything you could be if you only tried? The slayer I knew wouldn't have given up so easily. Dare I say, the slayer I knew would have risen to the occasion. But I can see that she no longer exists and if that really is the case, then you are free to leave. I'm sure Kennedy will be more than happy to take over the responsibilities of the slayer once you are out of the picture."

"I'm not giving up!" I snap back. And then on second thought, I ask, "Are you threatening me now, Giles?"

But some of what he says sticks. Why the fuck am I so hung up on leaving this place? I mean, all pity parties aside, the man's got a point. When did I start caring about what that band of freaks thinks? So I got fucked by a vampire, big deal. At least I'm still here standing to tell the tale. Would've liked to be the one to stake Angelus myself, but I guess when you weigh my situation against B's, hers kinda wins out. Sucks what happened to me, but Buffy lost her fucking mom to him! If anybody deserved to stake that undead bastard, it was her. I'm still not a big fan of the buff, but I get it. He knows how to play with your head, make you feel like you're nothing; like you've got no choice but to lay there and take it while he does his worst. I get now why she fell off the deep end. Hell, I got pretty close there myself and I'm not even new to this stuff -- I've been gettin' screwed like this my entire life. Giles is right; I'm not one to back down easy.

"No," he replies quickly after my accusation. "I was simply stating that -- "

"Save it," I interrupt with a wave of my hand. "I'll stay."

"You-you'll what?"

"I'll stay," I repeat louder. God, is he deaf now too? "You won, okay? I'm not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, and not next week. I still want to be a slayer; I just didn't want to deal with the rest of you. But I guess you watchers come along as part of the slayer package, huh? And the gang too, even if we never clicked that much. Willow did help me out back there."

Giles looks pleased with himself -- that smug son-of-a-bitch -- but as soon as he catches the sour expression on my face, he clears his throat and start cleaning his glasses. Is it just me, or does he just do that so he can avoid looking at us when he's embarrassed?

"Er, well, it was never about winning or losing, it was about salvaging a slayer... a very good one at that."

His head is still down as he says that, and I gotta smile despite all the drama. Then I ask it, the real question that's been on my mind all night. I figure since Gramps here was the one to clean me up and patch my wounds that he's gotta know what went down with me and Angelus. It's everybody else I'm shaky on.

"Do they know?" I ask in a quiet voice, wishing I had my own pair of glasses to clean right about now.

He gets what I mean right away and shakes his head. "No, Wesley and I have not yet spoken to the rest of the Academy about what happened with you, Buffy, Angelus, and Acathla. We thought it'd be best to wait until morning, but I would never release any information on the, er, personal affairs of last night. That is your business and yours alone, Faith. I don't even think Willow understood what went on beyond Buffy and Angelus capturing you. For all she knows, you received your injuries fighting them off."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Good. I can deal with Mr. Ignores the Obvious knowing about it. Giles can be badass when he needs to be, but most of the time? The guy's a total wuss. He's not gonna grill me on what happened if I don't want to talk about it.

"Cool. You know, for an old guy, you're not so bad after all." I grin over at him and he manages a grin back. The moment lasts about five seconds before I start feeling a Hallmark Card moment coming on and put a stop to it before we end up hugging or something. "Now beat it," I demand playfully. "Unless you want to offer a hand."

I hold up one of the bras and the tank top I flung on the bed earlier. Giles turns a wicked shade of red and begins a quick retreat backwards. I don't get it; we've already had a couple of flings. He should be used to seeing me naked by now. Guess he's only into me when there are desks and rulers involved. Must fulfill his teacher punishes the naughty student fantasy or whatever it is that gets him going in the classroom. Man, he's even kinkier than I thought!

"I had better get going and allow you to get your rest. I have a few things I must discuss with Wesley before tomorrow's meeting."

With that, he shuts the door behind him. Funny, he practically broke down my door getting inside and now he can't wait to get out. I'm still beat from everything that happened and my bed is looking pretty sweet right about now. I'll deal with cleaning up and unpacking tomorrow; all I want to do now is cruise around dreamland for a while. I lose the jeans but keep the T-shirt finding it comfortable enough to sleep in. The mug of tea goes untouched as I huddle under my own set of blankets and drift off the second my head meets my pillow.
Another love to abuse

Birthright: On the Road [05 Jul 2005|04:51am]
[ mood | anxious ]

7 AM.

Another restless night, another stranger in my bed, and yet another fucking sunrise to watch through the screen of an open hotel window. It's always the same -- I hit the road on my hog, see what kind of trouble I can dig up, unwind at whatever local dive's available (I ain't picky, 'least when it comes to finding a place to bump-and-grind at), find myself a stud to burn a little energy off on in the nearest trashy motel room, and wake up hours later to the smell of sex and sweat. It's kind of a ritual for me now. I breeze through towns, do the good deed of ridding middle-class suburban America of the things that go bump in the night, check in with Giles and the Buff via tacky postcards from even tackier rest stops, and find a place to hole up in long enough to collect my check and move on. Never staying too long, never getting too attached. Easier that way, you know?

None of the old gang can believe I've lasted this long on the road -- figured that when they offered me a free trip to Italy, I'd snatch it up like a dog would a T-bone steak. Rome sounded cool and all, but I was never one for the big group get-togethers. Besides, hanging with the kiddie slayers and playing role model to their budding slayer power? Not really my idea of a good time. So I bailed, took the "compensation for my services" and got the Hell out of dodge. Even got my record cleared thanks to some big wigs at the new Council pulling some wicked important Bureaucracy strings.

Gotta admit, it's a pretty sweet deal. I do what I want, when I want, and I never gotta worry about the boys in blue pulling out their guns and acting like they actually got a chance at taking me down again. Only person I got breathing down my back is me. *I* keep me in line now. No guards, no bars, no watchers. Just me and my conscience to keep me on the relatively straight and narrow. And so far? I haven't snapped once. Haven't even come close. There's been a few times where I could've... almost reached out and touched the line I told myself I'd never cross again. But in the end? I got a handle on it. Stopped myself before I got close enough to taste it again. It's not easy, but I deal. It's all part of being redemption's biggest bitch.

Anyway, the flavor of this week's a six-foot-two sandy haired golden boy who looks like something straight out of one of those cheesy harlequin romance novels you see on racks at the market. Boy's got the chiseled abs, year-round tan that's gotta be the job of a permanent fake-and-bake, and has this suave way of talking to a chick like she's Aphrodite reincarnated. Not my usual type, but he beat the other types that frequent this no-name Nevada desert town. Cowboy boots and snakeskin just never really appealed to me, you know? I might save a horse by riding a cowboy, but these guys just don't have what it takes to last with a girl like me in the saddle. Line dancing is not the way to go if you want to get in chick's pants, so Fabio it is. Too bad Mr. Suave passed out straight after and I didn't have the heart to throw him over my shoulder and toss him out into the sand. Funny that, huh? Must be getting soft in my old age.

Bummer.

I'm just pulling on my leather pants when I hear his voice, hoarse and sleep-tinted... and yet, still working that whole suave angle. "Going so soon?"

I spin around, pants half on-half off, and arch my shoulders up in a noncommittal shrug. "Sorry Stud, but I've got places to be. Room's paid up until this afternoon, so you're welcome to hang out here for a while and... recover."

I smirk at the last word, flash him a wicked looking grin, and finish zipping up the leathers. Twenty-seven years old and I can still rock the cow skin. Gotta love that slayer metabolism. Can't say the years have been bad to me, either. Got a few scowl lines on my brow, but I still look about as good as I ever did. The stud here proves that... as does the line of fine-looking dudes from east to west and back again. Speaking off... the boy is looking pretty ticked off at the diss to his not-so-stellar levels of endurance. Hey, it's not my problem he can't keep up. They got pills for that kinda stuff, you know?

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, his tone offended. Oops, did I just insult his manhood? My bad. I'll have to try harder next time.

"What do you think?" I shoot back, still smirking. "You passed out, man! Couldn't take the heat so you bailed on me. You have any idea what it's like to be *right* there and then lose it because the guy you're with can't last longer than five minutes?"

"Well, maybe I'd last longer if the girl I'm with wasn't some kind of freak of nature that almost threw me through a wall when I tried to get on top! How'd you do that anyway? You've gotta be what... 115 pounds at the most? You doin' some kind of freaky stuff?"

"Does it matter?" I ask, already bored by this conversation. "Look, you knew the deal when you walked through this door. We play by my rules or we don't play at all. Simple as that."

"Guess this is option number two then, huh? Who's skipping out on who now?" Touchy, touchy. Remind me again why I didn't throw this loser out the first chance I got?

"Whatever. I don't usually stick around for these morning after type deals. If you're looking for love, you've got the wrong girl. You might want to try a blonde next time. I hear they're real hot on the mushy stuff."

And would you look at that? Six years out of Sunnydale and I'm still taking cheap shots at B. Studly just stares at me like I've suddenly spouted another head and shakes his in disappointment. "Yeah, I'm getting that now. Where are you going in such a hurry anyway?"

At his question, I just grin, turn away, hoist my duffle on one shoulder and give him one last long look before I break out of this joint. He really is a fine lookin' man; it's a real shame he can't last in the sack or else I might've been tempted to stick around another week or two.

"I don't know," I reply honestly, all former malice gone. "But I always wanted to see Vegas."

I faintly hear him chuckling as I slam the door behind me, dust and sand whirling up around my feet in a pseudo tornado of grit and grime. A tumbleweed rolls by and I can't help it, I bust out laughing. The more I see of this world, the more I'm convinced I'm living in one big fucking cliché. I mean, here I am, a lone chick on a bike in a desert, and there's fucking tumbleweeds rolling down the road. I feel like I'm in the middle some old west flick when I mount my bike and take off, leaving behind a trail of displaced dirt after my speeding wheels.

Truth is, I'm tracking a pack of vamps up from Arizona. Ran into them in Phoenix and it should've been an easy sweep, but these guys are smarter than the usual bunch you run into. See, they actually got the sense to run when a slayer hits their town with a big wooden stick in hand. They know who the real big bad is when it comes down to the former-rogue-slayer-turned-freelancer versus a couple of barely surviving scraggly vampires. You don't last twelve years in this biz if you don't got the skills to back up the destiny and these guys know it. They stole a van, busted out of Phoenix, and I've been on their tail ever since. Mostly just for kicks 'cause I could use the entertainment, but I've also got a job to do here. Big or small, it don't matter. A vampire's a vampire and unless they got a soul, the only business I got with them is the pointy end of my stake in their chest. Romeo back there was just to pass the time until I get a bead on where my vamp buddies are headed off to next.

I know I gotta stop soon. Giles is expecting a postcard and I'm running dangerously low on the dough. Could use one of those fancy Council written checks right about now. Girl's gotta eat, you know? I've got enough to hole up in one more cheap motel before I might have to start considering giving blow jobs in return for a room. Worked for me when I was a scared sixteen year old running from a big daddy vamp; it'll work for me now. I've still got the appeal -- the big doe-eyes matched up with a great rack and a tight ass in even tighter leather pants -- only now I've got this little thing called self respect that takes all the fun out of the idea. So I'll just lay low for a while, see what kinda mileage I can get out of this town before it's strippers and blackjack for this slayer.

Another love to abuse

9: A Faithless Path I Roam [30 Jun 2005|01:38am]
[ mood | high ]

We make it back to McDonald's place in record time, the lack of roadside quickie shortening the trip by at least a half hour. Man, who knew pulling over to screw could make such a difference in travel time? Didn't feel like we'd been at it that long, but I guess it's hard to get a handle on the time when you're focused on the fucking. I'm still all wound up from the bar; the mixture of alcohol and music pumping the bod up with those massive endorphins of lust that got me lickin' my lips like a hungry wild cat every time I glance over at my new boytoy. He's got the car in park now, the keys coming out of the ignition and then pausing in his hand as he looks over at me, his face illuminated by the glare of the headlights against the wall in front of us. His skin gets this ethereal glow in the moonlight and I can't help but flirt with the boy when he's looking *this* fine.

"You're forgettin' something, cowboy," I husk playfully at him, cutting off any answer of his as I lean over his body, one hand pressing down on his knee for balance and the other crossing over to flick off the headlights. Darkness surrounds us and I hear him chuckle softly against my hair, his big hands sliding up my ribcage to push me back upright in the vinyl seat. I'm about to pout at the brush off, but then his hands come up around my face and his lips suddenly press into mine, earning himself a grin and a moan from me. God, I love the way this guy kisses.

His tongue snakes between my lips, tasting of tequila and the cigarette he'd borrowed, his flavor bittersweet and addicting to a chick that digs her alcohol and nicotine. The angle's awkward, but I don't even feel the way my torso's all twisted up like a cherry twizzler thanks to his hands finding their way back to their previous position, this time sans tanks top as they slide beneath crimson cotton and up white skin, still pale from days cooped up inside an 8x10. His fingers tease the underwire of my bra, just dancing over the hem to tickle the underside of my breast, the action sending tiny jolts up and down my spine. I'm still half-drunk from the bar, my skin heated up to fever pitch and my head swimming in that sea where every little touch feels like fire.

The kiss feels like it lasts anywhere from a minute up to an hour when he draws away, my reflexes too dull to pull him back immediately. Then he just looks at me with this strange fleck of something unrecognizable in those baby blues of his, his features silhouetted against the faint glow of the moon. I get this wicked strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when he reaches over to push my hair from my face and sighs, a world of frustration spilling out into the car with that one little exhale. Something's bothering the boy.

"What's up?" I chirp out, not too cheerful but not too gloomy; don't want the boy to think he's got a hold on me just yet. Gotta keep this thing under control, you know?

"I really want to make it to the bedroom this time," he confesses with a little smirk, the tender look from before disappearing with the return of our usual banter.

I just laugh and grab his collar, pulling him in for a quick kiss, just to tide me over, and reply against the scratchy stubble of his cheek, "So why are we still sitting here all squashed against the steering wheel like a bunch of hormonal teenagers trying not to get caught by mom and dad? You got another roommate in that place of yours?"

Not that it'd bother me, I always did get off on showing my tricks off. A little banging on the wall by the neighbors just tells me I'm doing the job right. If it ain't loud, it ain't worth it. Fuck polite. I'm all about the hardcore loving where you gotta bite your lip so hard it bleeds to keep the scream inside. I've ripped sheets to threads with my bare hands just from trying to keep it all inside. Can't stop a flood, you know? You can put up walls, but eventually, you know the damn's gotta break and let that rush through. It's now or never, baby.

"No, that's not it," he chuckles again, brow arching up enough to change the shadow of his profile against the brick wall up ahead. "You're just really good at distraction."

"Oh yeah?" I smirk right back at him, wondering briefly if he can see the wicked way my eyes are glimmering with unspoken promises of just how good a distraction I can be. I'm a fucking genius at the art of seduction. Just to prove a point, I find the zipper to his fly and pull it down, my hand slipping under tight denim and groping a hard place. "How's that for distraction?"

Lindsey's breathe catches in his throat, his sarcastic edge melting off his voice and into the nether as he moans instead -- low and husky. It feels like hot whisky going down when I swallow back my own moan, that familiar ache stirring in me. I feel all kinds of lightheaded when he grabs me tight around his wrist with a hand that knows it could never match the strength of a pissed off slayer.

He's real careful not to make it seem like refusal when he slowly pries my greedy hand away. Southern boys -- they're so fucking polite. Most guys treat me like a common whore... but Lindsey, he touches me like I'm something special, like the way Buffy did the night we danced at the Bronze. I meant something then, even if it was just temporary insanity on B's part. I was her galpal then, a real friend... maybe something more. Reason says I was just a convenient Angel replacement, a hot body that could get touched and kissed without the danger of soul losing and neck biting. But I don't know, there's still a part of me that thinks that maybe for just one second, Buffy Summers wanted me as badly as I wanted her. Gotta love the irony in that one.

"Faith..." he starts, but his drive is lacking and he stops cold in his tracks to let out a little man whimper. "Remember the thing about the bedroom?"

"Gonna make good on your promise to get me off?" I tease, finally letting up on my grip and snatching my hands back. Man, he almost looks relieved to be free of me. Guess he wasn't joking about the bed thing. "Don't worry, babe. I don't plan on gettin' bouncy in the front seat of your car again... I just like feeling up the goods."

I leave out the part where I haven't been with a guy for over a year thanks to same-sex prisons. I get why they don't let us mix it up, though. Lack of rubbers in the restroom dispensers means it'd be a free for all after-hours with nothing but the pull-out method to rely on. Next thing you know, you've got little serial killers running around the world with double the criminal genes. Tough break, if you ask me. There's gonna be screwing no matter what, but at least this way you don't gotta worry about the consequences... unless you hook up with someone with really bad VD. Then I guess you're screwed. Prison docs ain't too keen on handing out rash creams and cures for Herpes outbreaks.

"I've known a girl like you before," he says, and the guy actually starts laughing at me. Oh, I get it. He's only been with good girls before me. Guess a good girl doesn't put out a week after meeting somebody. Kind of shocks me that lawyer boy here hasn't had more bad girls under his belt. You'd think a good looking evil corporate dude would have the babes crawling all over him, like that Lilah chick.

"Life is short," I reply with a shrug. "Way I figure it, I'm not gonna be here long, so why wait? I live my life in the fast lane, McDonald. I don't have time for romantic dinners and walks on the beach. I got time for this."

My hand snakes back down between our bodies to find Lindsey all zippered up, but still sporting a wicked hard on. I'm grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat as I run my hand up and down the length of it, watching with rapt fascination as his hands tense against the seat and his hips betray him by bucking up into my touch.

I lean back down into his face, but bypass his lips and latch my mouth around his earlobe instead, sucking on the soft flesh just to be a bitch and then taking it up an inch to husk directly into his ear. "I don't hear you complaining."

His lips curve up to match my smile and the boy shakes his head and loops an arm around my waist to pull me back over him. "I have no objections, Faith, but I have to counter your bleak view of the future. You have time for more than just this."

I can't help it, I roll my eyes. Is this the part where he tries to convince me that I could have a white picket fence lifestyle with kids and a dog if I stick with him? Boy can spare me the details; I'm not ready for anything more than a carefree romp in the sack right about now. Lorne can preach all he wants about auras and me needing a friend, but I ain't one to give my heart up to the first guy that comes along with a little sweet talk.

But I humor the dude and arch a brow at him, giving him a chance to plead his case. If we're gonna play a game of court room, I'm in. "And just what else do you have in mind here, McDonald?"

"This," he replies simply and suddenly I'm up in the air and out of the car, my body held up tightly in Lindsey's arms as he kicks the door shut and starts for the complex.

I don't usually go for this damsel act, but why the hell not? I'll play along for now, just to see what else he's got up his sleeve. I gotta hand it to the boy, he's got spunk. Sneaky little bastard too. I got a feeling that this whole thing was just a set up to get me in his bed. I settle for holding on tight and snickering when he has a hard time juggling me and the keys in his back pocket. It takes him about five minutes of fumbling to get the key in the lock and we finally make it past the threshold and into my new pad.

The new place is about as good as the one Wilkins set me up with. It's a three bedroom with big beds and lots of space. The spare room's already set up with a punching bag and some free weights, a few mats on the floor and couple of those fancy work-out machines. Gotta admit, I'm impressed. I know the gym isn't *just* for me, but it sure as hell feels like a nice gesture on his part. Everything else is state-of-the-art and brand new -- no garage sale rejects for my man. It's a tight joint and brings back some nostalgic feelings for me. I keep expecting him to hand me a playstation and call me his little Faithy.

We skip past the living room and go straight down the hall to his bedroom. I gape a little at the set up he's got going on for him -- poor, my ass! When I picture a hard knock life, I don't usually get images of fancy wide screen TVs, big cherry oak dressers and matching king sized bed.

"You like it?" he asks, somewhat smugly, as he drops me down on the navy blue comforter. It's the softest thing my ass has ever felt and I'm on my back before I know it, rolling around like a spoiled kitten.

"Like it? I fucking love it! When you told me it wasn't much, I figured we were staying in some one bedroom rat hole studio out in Compton. But man, this... this is like the fucking Ritz Carlton!"

Lindsey laughs and comes down to perch beside my wriggling figure on the bed. "If you think this is impressive, you should've seen the place I had before I left Wolfram & Hart."

"It must've paid to be evil," I comment off handedly. "But private firm life seems to be treatin' you pretty good; so you're not hurting too much now that you've broken off to do your own thing. Bet it's more satisfying, too."

There's a wistful tone in my voice as I look around and see all that Lindsey's accomplished. It's stupid, I shouldn't be jealous of what he's done out here, but I just keep thinking about how when I owned up to my crimes, all I got was Angel's shoulder to cry on and a room in cell block D. It burns me up inside to see how good he's got it when I've been taking group shower and eating prison gruel.

"I won't lie to you, it is pretty satisfying to call the shots and make my own..." he trails off, his voice suddenly breaking off when he notices the change in my mood from horny to depressed. I don't even realize that I've turned away from him until I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, what's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

Fuck, now he's concerned. I'm not about to share my lame inner sobfest with him, so I just shake my head and sit up. It'd be a lot easier to deal if he wasn't so understanding. I hate this. I can deal with assholes with no problem, but hand me a somewhat good guy and I'm clueless. The guy's partially responsible for my prison stint, but he also had to play good lawyer and get me out of the gig he helped put me in. I don't know if I should slap him or kiss him.

"No," I answer, deciding the best course of action is to lie through my teeth and hope he's guy enough to fall for my act. "I'm just wiped from all the action today and starting to feel those drinks. You got a bathroom in this castle of yours?"

Lindsey's quick to put on his concerned face as he looks me over carefully. Then it clicks with him and he backs away from me, as if he expects me to puke all over his hundred dollar shoes. "It's over there. Do you need me to -- "

"Nah, I got it," I cut him off quick with a shake of my head. "Save the chivalry for another day, I can take a leak by myself."

Another lightbulb goes off in his head and he looks all of five years old when the realization hits. "I thought you meant..."

"Nothing like that, cowboy," I reply, flashing a grin his way. I lean down to place a lingering kiss on his lips, just to prove that I'm *not* about to barf all over his thousand dollar sheets and then I'm taking a tour of his john, which has gotta be one of the fanciest fucking bathrooms I've ever seen.

The master bath is about the size of a small bedroom with a big walk in closet at the end of it. There's two sinks, a little room with a toilet inside, and a separate shower and bath. It's decorated in a generic tan and a masculine navy blue, definitely made for a bachelor. There's dirty boxers on the tile floor and damp towels hanging over the shower door. Fancy as it is, you can tell the place hasn't been lived in much. It's got that new feel to it, like everything's way too fucking shiny. There're no handprints on the mirror or toothpaste in the sink. Even the toilet roll's barely been used. Quilted northern, nice touch. It creeps me out being somewhere so pristine so I'm quick enough to the point and come back to find Lindsey grinning at me with unspoken amusement.

"Feeling better?"

I answer by pushing him back down on the bed and straddling his lap, trapping him between my thighs as he lays helpless beneath me. My hands go to his wrists and hold them up above his head. The boy doesn't even fight me and it pisses me off. I want him to struggle, want him to squirm and scream beneath me like Wesley did when I sliced his chest with broken glass.

"What do you think?" I ask with a growl.

I grind my hips over his hard on, making sure he feels every seem of my dark blue jeans as I dry hump him through our clothes, not giving him the chance to even thrust up into me. I'm pressed down against him, covering him with my weight, my breasts and belly lining up with his as I slide slowly over his body, making sure he feels every single part of me. He groans beneath me and I smile fiercely at his needy moans. That's what I like to hear.

"You like being the bitch, don't you, Linds? You like having some big strong girl on top of you, calling all the shots, deciding if you get to come or not. You get off on having someone telling you what to do so that at the end of the day, you can just blame your every mistake on the girl. I remember that chick at the firm, Lilah, bet you and her had some kinky nights together. Did she hold you down like this too? Too bad she couldn't squeeze the life out of you like I can."

Bitterness wells up on my tongue as every ugly word falls off the tip and poisons the air. Good as he's been to me, he's still got miles to go when it comes to knowing who I am. Lawyer boy's never seen the dark side of me, the one that pissed off Buffy Summers enough to stick a knife in my gut. Memories keep flooding back to me and I feel myself crashing down as my lips smother his with a rough kiss. His tongue slides against mine as I suck it into my mouth, stealing the air out of his lungs as I hold him there against me. Hot air puffs out against my upper lip and he strains beneath me, trying to push his hips up into mine. I've got him plastered back down against the mattress before he gets one thrust in. Our teeth clash as he begins to struggle; muffled words moving his mouth against mine in a fury of motion. I hear my name and it just makes me kiss him harder. Our tongues swirl together, fighting for control. He's shades of Xander Harris as he tries to free his wrists from my grip and I get wet just imagining his eyes popping out of his head and his body growing limp seconds before my world went black. No one's gonna save lawyer boy here from the naughty slayer with a thirst for a little bedroom violence.

I don't see his pretty face when I pull away and shove his zipper away. Don't hear his raspy voice when I pull him out of his boxers and start jacking him off in my hand. I lose my jeans when my stomach contracts with phantom pain and a pair of vicious green eyes flash into my mind. I remember blood and tears and screams as I slam down onto his cock and let him fill me with something *I* want.

"I need you," I whimper out as if I'm the one being tortured here as I grab his hand and shove it between our bodies. He takes the hint and starts rubbing, his fingers pinching me with the same relentless vigor that I'm riding him. I'm moaning and gasping for breath. He sounds like I'm killing him but he's a sick bastard that's getting off on every single ounce of pain.

Everything's dark and hot and so fucking good I don't think I can stand it for more than a single second more. He slides in and out of me like butter, his fingers playing out symphonies on my body. Our moans are the lyrics and we cry out in harmony together, acting out an ancient rhyme with ever slap of our hips. The air is heavy around me, sticky sweet and lingering of smoke and alcohol. I'm moving but being held down, legs played wide open as my hands are bound above my head and I'm mewling like a newborn kitten taken away from her mama. But then I blink and Lindsey's there, fully clothed and soaked in sweat, bruises coloring his wrists and beginning to bloom at his throat. Fuck, when'd I do that?

I come down on him again to kiss at the black and blue and he pulls a fast one on me, flipping me over until I'm the one on my back and he's ramming into me with all the pent up frustration of a man finally freed. I grin up at him and play nice, spreading my legs side and inviting him to have his way. But only for a second and then we're rolling over with him still buried to the hilt inside of me. I don't miss a beat and start slamming down on him again. My whole body begins to tingle and tighten up around him, the promise of satisfaction soothing over my need with a sweet vanilla exterior. I relent and ride him slow, feeling every excruciating inch of him pushing into my soft flesh. I'm standing at the edge of a cliff, ten years old and scared out of my wits. My foot slips and I take a nosedive off, falling fast towards the approaching blue. Adrenaline pump hot in my blood, intoxicating me, freeing me from that tired, sad existence. My body rises up one last time and I come back down to the present, the splash of water distant in my mind.

On my back again, I'm arching up into him as he bites down on my nipple. My fingers clench the comforter and I almost buck him off of me as I come hard around him, my body twister and writhing beneath him. I reach up and rip his designer shirt straight down the middle as I glare at him savagely. I don't want this to ever fucking end, but it does and I'm left in the after glow. He's panting like a wild beast above me and I can't remember if he even got off. He's soft inside me, so chances are he had his moment of glory just like I had mine.

"Get the fuck off me," I scream at him as I shove him away and stand up fast off the bed.

I need to cool down, get some air. Clear my head of all this bullshit and figure out why I started thinking about everything I'd buried deep in the chest labeled "do not open". I thought I sunk that ship, but I guess I got carried away in the moment and it all came rushing back to me in one fell swoop. Now I feel jumpy, like a scared rabbit or something and I can't fucking breath with Lindsey looking at me like I've just completely lost it. I grab my clothes from the floor and run out of the room and straight out the front door. I cop a squat behind a parked car and throw on my shirt backwards and my pants unzipped, no shoes on my feet when I start walking across the pavement.

"You've lost it girlfriend," I mumble to myself as I head down an empty alley and exit out to a busier street than the one we're parked on.

Cars whiz by, a few honk, but everybody's got their own problems and nobody gives a fuck about a half dressed girl on the side of the road. God, I would kill for a cigarette now. There's a couple of bucks in my back pocket, so I roam around the block until I spot an open liquor store on the corner. The place is filled with the usual scum -- middle aged men with nothing better to do, frat boys with their anorexic girlfriends hanging off their shoulder, and the occasional washed out prom queen who's turned to booze to help her forget how good life was supposed to be when she was a perky breasted cheerleader dating the quarterback.

I ignore the stares of the guys and the snickers of the girls as I lean up against the counter to come face to face with Habib or whatever the dude's name is. He's polite enough, but his eyes wander down to my top just long enough to make me wanna smash his face in. But I smile sweet and point to the Marlboro's behind the counter.

"I'll take one of those," I say in a sugary tone, laying it on thick in case he decides to ask for an ID.

He doesn't and grabs the pack without a hassle. I hand him a five and tell him to keep the change. Not like I got any need for nickels and dimes in my pocket. Now that I'm shacking up with Mr. Private Law Firm, I don't have to save up my pennies anymore. One of the jocks offers up a light on my way out, despite the harsh look from his girl, and I take it with a grin. I flick off the chick on my way out and cruise back down the road to Lindsey's place.

I'm feeling ten kinds of better now that I've got nicotine rushing through my system. Everything's covered up with a comforting numb now, all my baggage packed back up inside its suitcases and sent on vacation for the time being. Man, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was better off like that. I'm gonna have to sit down and have a chat with lawyer boy eventually, I'm just not in the mood to dig up the dirt in my past right now. If he can't get that, well, there's always Angel.

Another love to abuse

Slayerinthecity: Go back to start again [21 Jun 2005|01:03am]
[ mood | conflicted ]

The flight from JFK to LAX was a long one -- too damn long for a chick like me -- but I was too wound out about Wes to give much of a damn either way. Soul Boy bought us first class on a red eye flight, making sure it was dusk when we took off and a few hours 'till dawn when we touched down in the City of. Gotta hand it to the big guy, he sure can plan his way around a premature dusting. Guess it's part of the reason he's still here, after everything that happened and all. I still don't know the major details about that whole LA lawyer blow out thing -- just something about Angel making a mistake and Evil Incorporated being the only ones out there with big enough guns to fix it. I don't buy it, and I think he gets that, but I don't press him either. It'll come out eventually; it always does.

I got the big picture relayed back to me between a couple of beers and bags of peanut -- dinner not bein' a given on flights anymore. Too costly or some shit like that. My stomach was growling something fierce by the time we hit ground again, so Angel was cool enough to pitch in for an overpriced MickeyD's extra value meal on the way back to his old digs. Gotta satisfy those urges, you know? Slayer metabolism is a bitch.

We caught a cab back to the former HQ, finding the place lacking in it's former glory but still standing, which is more than I can say for some of the other places out here. The water ran hot and the beds were still top notch, so I wasn't about to complain about the broken windows and musty smell. Put up with a hell of a lot worse in my lifetime, you know? I ain't gonna rile Angel up on the less than five star treatment.

I holed up in an upstairs bedroom while Angel did his brood thing in the basement, the wad of paper Red had given me all clenched up in my hand. I turned that thing over a million times, memorizing the lines of the address and hoping that her mojo was right on about this one. Don't figure the chick for a fraud after all she did back in SunnyD, so I knew our place was spot on. And man, nothing could've prepared me for what we found when we got there.

We waited 'till nightfall to hit the streets again, the familiar sounds of hip hop and sirens blazing around us as we walked in silence like a pair of cat burglars, dressed head-to-toe in black and armed to the teeth with stakes and a couple of broadswords. I was itchin' for a fight and any vampire that came across me was gonna be sorry he ever crossed a slayer in a mood. I've got a rep for being vicious; but man, when I'm wound up? There ain't words for the kind of damage I can do.

He'd been buried somehow. Nobody knew how, but some goodie-two-shoes with a hero complex must've been digging through the rubble for survivors and found him. With all his buddies either dead or missing, there wasn't a single person to ID him when the morgue searched his pockets. Guess the former priss didn't think to carry a wallet to his death bed, so he got labeled as John Doe and thrown in a hole in the ground, an unmarked stone to X the spot. I knew what Soul Boy was thinking -- this isn't how it's supposed to be. Guys like Wes, they deserve better than blank stone and a cardboard box. It's like he never even existed, you know? Just another victim of a gang bang or the always fun "unexplained phenomenon" that'd get Mulder so hot he wouldn't be able to stop jacking off long enough to check the body out. We both stood there for a long time, still not saying a word, 'till the silence got too heavy and I started talking.

"You ready?" I asked, shovel in hand and brave face painted on. Angel was right before, we had no idea what that bastard Vail did to him. We could come up with a box of pieces of Wes for all we knew.

I knew the big guy had the same idea when he nodded and sighed, a reluctant look on his face as he looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time that night. His face was all clouded up with concern and worry, more for me than him, so I grinned a little in reassurance. "Question is, are you? I've seen a lot in my time, Faith, I'm no stranger to disembodiment. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

I just roll my eyes at the big guy, shoulders shrugging as I snort out in full sarcasm mode. "Dude, I think I can handle a little blood and guts, Angel. Watched my watcher die at the hands of Kakistos, remember? If I can live through that and not be seriously scarred for the rest of my life, I can deal with a headless Wes. No worse than the movies, right?"

Thing is, Angel don't say much after that, just looks away and grumbles something about me being naive. Whatever, man. I was the rogue slayer! You think I didn't see some seriously fucked up shit when I was the Mayor's right hand man? Wilkins might've been a clean freak, but he was still out for the same thing every other monster is. If I wasn't doing the damage, I was there to play supervisor and make sure the Mayor's boys did what they were paid to. See, Wilkins was all about the employee benefits, even if you were a soulless creature with no real need for a luxury suite. Gotta love a guy that shows a little love to his lackeys. Made them listen better, that's for sure. Death threats only go so far when you're already halfway to Hell.

"Cut the shit, Angel, I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

That gets his attention he snaps his head back up, looks at me real long, and shakes his head at me like I'm his brat kid that just won't listen. "Don't say I didn't warn you then."

"I won't," I snap back just as quick. Maybe Cordy and Fred dug it when Angel played the big daddy protector, but I don't need him to cover my eyes and save me from the boogeyman. I do just fine on my own.

We started digging after that. Neither of us were into the whole whistle while we work thing, so the grave got dug up fast. We were barely huffin' and puffin' ten minutes when we hit wood, literally. Watcher man's casket was a run of the mill thing, looked like it was made out of the kind of cheap stuff my coffee table growing up was, and wasn't even sealed shut. Soul Boy got down there while I stayed up top, crouched down low and ready to pull the corpse up. Don't ask me how, but the big guy pulled some strings at a local morgue to get us a body bag to carry Princess Margaret's bod in. Looks like Angel's still got the hook up, much as he says he's done with this place. Already I could smell it and almost hurled right there. Fuck. Nobody ever told me dead bodies stunk worse than the crappiest outhouse at those lame Woodstock revivals I used to go back in Southie.

"Shit, what reeks?" I asked, my voice sounding nasal from the hard way I was pinching my nostrils together.

"Wesley," Angel replied darkly without so much of a glance my way. Boy was acting real strange then, like he knew what was coming and just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

A loud crack interrupted us as Angel ripped open the lid. The smell got about fifty-seven kinds of worse and it took me a minute to deal before I looked down into that grave. Soul Boy was quiet, and with him, that could mean anything from a chopped up Wes to a fully clothed, all in one piece Wes, so it was up to me to get the balls to look the fuck down already. On the bright side, he was in one piece. On the flipside? Nobody bothered to clean him up and months holed up in an unsealed casket had made him dinner to all the creepy crawlers that live under the dirt. His clothes -- what hadn't been chewed up -- were covered in crusty brown rust, the cause of death wicked obvious. Knife to the gut -- a wound just like the one that put me down for eight months. God, no wonder he bit it. Regular guys don't stand a chance when somebody tries to rip out your guts like that. Kinda ironic, huh? The fucked up slayer and her fucked up watcher -- both victims of gut wounds. We make a real pair in fatal injuries.

I wimped out on Angel when he asked if I was ready to haul Wes up. I just couldn't do it. Blood, I can deal with. But hundred-legged bugs and maggots? Not really my kinda thing. I stood back and watched while Angel pulled the body out, shook it free from as many bugs as he could, and tried whacking the rest with his shovel. I couldn't even carry the body bag I was so freaked. I felt like such a wimp, standing there with my knees all shaky and my face whiter than a vamp's, but I really wasn't cut out for the sight of a decaying Wes. Man, I don't know if I'll ever forget the sight of my watchers face half gone with white bone sticking up through rotting flesh and muscle and wide gaping holes where his eyes used to be.

"That's wicked gross," I finally choked out just as the bag zipped shut, and Angel hauled it up on one shoulder like he was He-man or something.

"Yea," he answered simply, like he understood what I was going through but wasn't gonna play the I-told-you-so game with me. Sometimes I'm really glad he's such a one-dimensional guy. You can't take him out anywhere, but at least he won't act smug when you make a major fool out of yourself. "Are you okay?"

"Five by five," I shrugged in nonchalance, but the second the words came out of my lips they felt like a half-rate lie.

Angel felt it too and flashed me one of his patented I-understand-your-pain-and-want-to-help-you looks that can either drive a person crazy or make them feel like the weight's been lifted off their shoulders. It's a little bit of both for me. I'm pissed that he ain't even phased by this; or that if he is, he's not showing it like I am. But at the same time, I'm so fucking relieved to have that shoulder if I need it that I don't bother clocking him one.

"It's just, I never really saw a dead body before. Like, one that's been in the ground for a year and wasn't sporting a brand new pair of shiny fangs. Guess I just thought that he'd look like the recently deceased, you know? Pale and cold yea, but not like some freakshow straight out of Night of the Living Dead." I laughed sheepishly, right hand lifting up to push my hair away in a nervous shot gesture as I added jokingly, "I kinda failed biology the few times I went."

The big guy nodded, getting that I'm not the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to being knowledgeable about the stuff you learn in a high school Science lab. Then he starts playing the self-guilt card, like it's his fucking fault that I dropped out of high school before I got a crash course in human biology.

"I should've said something, but I was so worried that we'd find him in a worse state than he is. Vail had the ability to make him suffer. He could've done any number of things to Wes that would've made this a whole lot messier to deal with. I'm glad he didn't."

Soul Boy took a minute to reflect, most likely thanking whatever god vamps pray to that his best buddy went out quick and without much pain. I don't mention how my guts felt like they'd been lit on fire when I got stabbed... or that I bet a few minutes passed before the lights went out for good. Gut wounds don't exactly equal a swift insta-death. You gotta bleed yourself dry before you bite the big one.

"It's no big." I let him off the hook with a casual wave of my hand.

"But --" he tried to protest, but I retaliate quicker than he can process his own fucked up reasoning.

"No buts. My idea, my problem. I'll get over it." Eventually. "Look, what's done is done. Ain't nothing out there that can change what happened or the bad state he's in. All we can do now is get him back to the Big Apple and hope that Ambrosia stuff lives up to all of Lilah's big talk."

"And if it doesn't?" he asked, the questions full of skepticism -- he still doesn't believe it's gonna go down without some cosmic consequence. Leave it to Soul Boy to play the part of realist when I could use a little pat on the back.

Though after B's resurrection, I can't really blame him. Bet Spike was ten kinds of happy to brag about banging B so hard they broke fuckin' houses. Girlfriend never would've given Bleach Boy a shot if she hadn't come back all fucked in the head and chock full of the kind of lust only a super-being can understand. Man, if I had known that the almighty buff had gone dark, I'd have skipped out on the prison gig long before Wes came in with his badass makeover and hero talk. Now that B's sporting the sane thing again, I don't stand a chance in Hell with her. Damn.

"Then we gambled and we lost, but at least we gave it our best shot," I said, sighing deep and heavy. I try to smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace, so I cut the optimism act and go for the stoic thing instead. Still don't know I'm so hung up on this, but I guess it's got something to do with me feeling just as responsible as Angel does. I could've used a watcher in Sunnydale, why didn't I ask him to come with me? Angel's troops were strong and steady; they could've done without research boy. That Fred chick was wicked smart, too. She could've handled the bookwork.

Then, out of nowhere, Angel actually smiled, and for that fraction of a second, I almost thought that this whole thing was gonna blow over and that the lawyer bitch was really onto something with this magical drug thing. But then he shook his head and started laughing at me. Never seen the vamp laugh before, except for when his evil twin came out to play, so I was quick to scowl and put myself up on the defensive.

"What the fuck are you laughing about?" I demanded, about two steps away from stomping my feet and leaving him with dead Wes for company.

"You," he replied with a chuckle, gesturing over at me with a wave of his hand. "You're an optimist now. It's a new look for you, Faith, and honestly, it's not one I ever expected you to wear, but it suits you."

"Whatever," I snorted. Angel must've gotten knocked in the head real hard if he thinks I'm all about the sunshine and rainbows now. "I just want to get this done, and if it means playing cheerleader to your brood, I'll do it. I'm a means justifying the end kind of girl."

And I kinda get that Soul Boy's one of those kind of people too. It's all about the greater good, you know? You do what you gotta do and hope it all pans out for the best in the end. That's how I'm going about this whole thing with Wes. If Lilah's playing me? Well, it won't be the first time that the joke's been on me. I kinda got a habit of falling in with the bad crowd, but at least now I've got plenty of folks around to pick up the pieces if this all goes to Hell. So am I worried about this? Fuck yes! I'd be stupid not to, but that don't mean I gotta throw the towel in this early in the game -- I stick it out to the big finish. I'm not one to wimp out when things get tough, you know? I go all the way, baby.

Another love to abuse

Slayerinthecity: Bitch on bitch action [09 Jun 2005|05:41am]
[ mood | indescribable ]

It's late night and I'm out on the town, doing what I do best -- slaying. After a few run-ins with the old crowd, I'm craving a little solo time. All this group togetherness just gets me wicked restless, you know? It's not really my thing to sit around and chat over coffee like we're a bunch of old chums with a sunny past behind us. Catching up means tallying the body count, and call me crazy, but I'm just not finding the fun in recollecting about how half the folks up in the City Of lost their lives in some epic battle with Evil Incorporated. Details aren't gonna bring him back, so why bother? They don't even have a fucking body.

I thought I was cool, that I was totally over it after a few days of rooming with Red and focusing on her big bad claims, but after seeing Angel here - I don't know, it just brought it all back. Every time I look at the big guy, I get all these memories flooding back in, like I'm on that fuckin' Orpheus trip again. I close my eyes and all I see is Angelus grinning at me in that cocky I'm-gonna-suck-you-dry way, with Wes held tightly in his grip, life slipping by the second, and all that talk of choices and consequences and how I oughtta kill him before he snaps my watcher's neck. Man, talk about the things that shape us. Never knew it was such a big deal with me until now. Something changed then; something that's got me all wound up.

Anyway, it's only about 2 AM and I've already dusted a couple of vamps and a demon that looked like a cross between a wooly mammoth and the abominable snowman. Guess even the demons gotta adapt to the cold. Thing was huge, but wasn't much for the fight. Was more of the stomp and go type than the fast moving punch throwing one I usually get out here. Other than that? Everything's calm on the vamp front, no mob bosses sending their boys after me for a throwdown, so I'm thinking it's high time I made it back to the nest to see what's up with Soul Boy and Red.

I'm about half way back to my place when I get this itch on the back of my neck like I'm being watched or something. I figure it to be another vamp, but after 10 minutes of walking, the itch is still there and I got nothing for it other than this extra chill that I know ain't the weather. I finally stop in an alley, tired of this shit. I hold out my arms and check the roofs -- nothing. Guess the sniper theory's out. I spin full circle, sweeping the alley with my eyes, and then out of nowhere, this chick just *appears* like something out of a Sci-Fi flick. Whoa. I stop, blink, and take a good look at this girl.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead," I ask, recognizing the prissy dress suit and ice cold eyes immediately. What the Hell is Lilah Morgan doing here? Last I heard, she took a permanent trip to the great beyond after Angelus made dinner out of her. It's gotta be a fake out. This has The First Evil written all over it. Did we even wipe that out? I mean, we closed the Hellmouth, but can you really take something like that down? Whatever. Point is -- I'm not falling for that act this time. Wilkins wigged me out big time, but Lilah Morgan? She's got nothing on me other than an expired contract I never got around to making good on. I'm not gonna be shaking in my boots 'cause she thinks I owe her.

"Faith," and she says my name like she's just a little too sure of herself. You know, at one time, I found her act wicked hot. First time I saw her, I thought this chick was a total fox -- all dolled up and full of the attitude. But now? It's just tired. "Still as feisty as ever, I see. Do you still like black?"

I look down at my outfit -- black hip huggin' jeans fitting snug under a black duster -- and smirk. "You could say that. You still into diamonds?"

"It's a perk of the job," she smiles, catlike; meets her eyes with mine in a firm stare-down. It's then that I notice the thin line around her neck, like someone lopped off her head and glued it back on. Wes mentioned something about having to axe her -- guess that's where. Thing is, last I checked? The First didn't show up looking like a corpse. Wilkins came back just as together looking as always; not like he'd been blown to bits and sewn back together like Lilah's looking. Girl's a regular Frankenstein in this get up.

I cross my arms and get down to business. If this is the real deal, I wanna know why she's back to playing games with me. "So, let me guess. You want to do business again? Gotta admit, not a smart move on your part. I mean, after the last time, you'd think you'd know better than that."

Lilah grins again, this time amused. Girl's obviously got something up her sleeve; some trick she thinks I'll fall for. "You have no idea, do you?"

"But I bet you're gonna fill me in," I drawl out sarcastically, not about to give in to this bitch. I made that mistake once; I'm smarter than that now.

"He said you would be difficult to convince." I flash her a strange look. He? Who the fuck is he and what does he know about me? "Wesley," she clarifies, watching my reaction carefully. I shrug, playing off casual, so she continues without a hitch. "There have been complications in the plan, we've procured certain losses that were not in the initial proposal. I'd like to change that and I need your help."

I just stare. It's not the big words that got me stumped, it's the part about needing *my* help to do... what? I'm still not catching on. "Keep talking."

"What if I told you there was a way to bring back the dead?"

"Been there, done that," I reply in a bored tone. "B's on her third life and I hear Hell spit out Angel after a couple of months. You gonna tell me something I don't know?"

"All of those, they had consequences," she explains as if I'm some stupid kid without a clue. "There is no fine print clause in this procedure. The two of you could have a fresh start. I heard you made quite the team after Angelus had me as a snack."

This time, I narrow my eyes suspiciously at her, getting where she's going now. Lawyer bitch thinks that if we tag-team it, we can bring back Wes. Tempting offer... but I'm not ready to go throwing my soul away for some former Wolfram & Hart employee in some last bid effort that could end being a total bust. I know they had a thing, but damn. This is just weird.

"Why do you care?" I ask, honestly curious. "You two were fuckbuddies. Shouldn't you be glad he bit it? Boy's all yours now."

Lilah falters for a tick, a sort of wistful look sparking in her eyes in one of those blink and you miss it kind of things. Shit. She really cared about the guy, didn't she? I can't help it, I laugh. This is un-fucking-believable. She's gotta be pulling my leg here! I'm just not buying into her distressed lovelorn act. Lilah's a lot of things, but she ain't no damsel.

"Oh man, this is rich, real rich. You really think I'm gonna fall for the old fell-in-love-with-a-boy-and-now-I'm-a-changed- woman thing?"

Even I don't pull that kind of crap.

"Of course not," she spits out, regaining some of her old venom. Now we're talking. This doped up version of Lilah Morgan was seriously starting to wig me out. "Let me paint you the real picture here, Faith. Do you really think he went up to the place where all the good boys go? Well, here's a wake up call for you -- he didn't. You want to know where your boy is? He's trapped in Purgatory. You see, those under the contract of Wolfram & Hart go to a special kind of Hell. Ready to listen now?"

I don't hesitate when I ask, "What do I gotta do?"

"That's my girl," she purrs, smiling again. "Ever hear of ambrosia, Faith?" I shake my head in the negative. "I didn't think so. It was the mythical fruit of the gods. The Greeks believed that if a mortal were to ingest it, then they would become immortal. It's not real, of course. But there is a drug out there, named precisely that, and when given to the sick or the dead, it can replenish a person's body and soul. In simple terms -- bring the dead to life. This city just so happens to be in great supply of it thanks to a group of smuggling vampires. Wolfram & Hart once did business with them. They're not cheap, but I think you'll be able to find a way around the money issue. And no, I'm not paying you."

"So I kick ass and swipe it, I dig." Nothing new there. With more and more of the gang showing up by the day, I got myself a whole freakin' army out here. We can take 'em, no problem. "Anything else?"

Lilah glances back at me, this dead serious look in her eyes, as she says in this wicked creepy voice, "You'll need the body."

Shit.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath, hands coming up to cover my face. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Angel told it to me straight, Watcher man's bod is gone. Said maybe this thing called Illyria (what that is) took it, but she skipped out on the team and no one's heard from her since. Man, could this get any worse?

"Something wrong?" she asks... and there's worry in her voice. Never thought I'd hear this chick sound like that, but she's scared. Went all this work to make it out to the mortal plane, totally went out on a limb by knocking heads with a slayer, and now she's just found out it's all been a waste of her time. Man, what a bummer. I almost feel bad for the chick.

"Yea," I answer, sighing deep and heavy. God, this sucks. "No body."

"That's ridiculous," she scoffs at me. Wow. Touchy, much? Damn. "There has to be a body, you just have to find it."

"What do you expect me to do?" I question, throwing up my arms in surrender, sufficiently frustrated now. "Fly out to LA and dig through the rubble? Sorry, but I'm no trashpicker. Find someone else for the job."

I'm about to up and leave this bitch, but she grabs my arm -- hard -- and pulls me back in, outrage clearly written all over her permanently sour expression. "You *have* to do this!" she hisses, grip still tight on my arm.

I grit my teeth, but I don't try to bail just yet. Something about this whole thing's got me buggin' -- Morgan's not telling me all there is to this story. There's something else. "Why me? Why not Angel? Or Spike? Or Hell, even Buffy. She's the slayer at the top of everyone's hero call list."

Lilah rolls her eyes, looks at me like I'm real stupid again. "Don't you get it? The ritual, it has to be done by someone close, preferably a family member. You were his slayer, that makes you the best bet in bringing him back."

"Yea, because we were so close," I snark right back at her, finally yanking my arm from the death grip she had on me. Damn. Death must have it's perks. There's a moment where we're both quiet, just glaring at one another, trying to size each other up. I know I got the upper hand here, but something about seeing Lilah so out of control like this creeps me out. Wes must be goin' through some serious shit if his bitch is out doing his dirty work.

Another minute rolls by when I break the eye contact and sigh. "Maybe I could get Red to hook me up with some kind of locator spell. If she can pinpoint his location, I'll do the damn ritual. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," she replies with her usual sarcasm.

"I'm not doin' this for you," I clear up, before Lilah gets to thinking too highly of herself. Can't let the bitch get the upper hand, you know? "I'm doin' it for Wes. I don't owe you shit."

"Likewise." Another pause, this one less intense, and she spins on her heels, turning her body away, though her head tilts in my direction. "Nice doing business with you, Faith. Don't screw this one up."

She disappears in a puff of smoke before I can get a comeback in, leaving me alone in the alley, wondering if I just dreamed all that shit up. Man, if I didn't still have Lilah's handprint on my arm, I'd chalk it all up to being some freaky mind trip. Looks like I'm finally gonna get some real action around here. Screw Red's mob theory, I'm all about evening the score and gettin' that second chance with Wes.

Another love to abuse

Slayerinthecity: Let the games begin [28 May 2005|09:52am]
[ mood | frustrated ]

It's half past eight and the witch and I are out in the city, taking a ride in a typical NYC taxi cab. I'm not usually one for riding in these things, but Willow was looking pretty haggard after trekking it around the city with me all afternoon, so I flagged one down when I thought we might have to piggyback it back to my place. Man, I still can't believe that Red's here! I mean, last I heard, she was living large in Rio with her slayer girlfriend. Turns out? Kennedy's not much of the committing type, so after the third strike out, Willow packed her bags and headed out of the Amazon (anyone else finding that part of this story real funny?) to find me. Why me? I still don't know, but I'm guessing it's got a whole lot to do with me and the former girl thing sharing more than a few common traits. And if you're looking for some hot rebound sex? I'm your girl.

Plus, B's in Rome. Way I figure it? It's a Hell of a lot easier to skip out to New York than it is to fly over the freakin' ocean to Europe. As cool as Rome sounds by the way B talks it, I don't know how keen I am on flying. Seems kind of twisted to me to hop in to this big hunk of metal with wings and hope you don't crash into the big blue sea and become shark bait. Always been more of a bus chick myself. I like feeling my ride, you know? I dig the easy vibration of wheels on pavement with the occasion bump that makes the whole thing bounce like a fucking metallic trampoline. The subway doesn't suck either. It's smooth cruising on those, baby. Wicked cheap too. Good for a chick like me with not a lot of green to spare.

Even with G-man's help and the bartending gig, I'm still not rolling in riches. The bulk of my paycheck goes to paying rent while the rest of it's for living up life Faith style -- you know, eating out, stocking up on leather pants, buying cigarettes, shit like that. Gotta get my kicks in, you know? Man, it's a good thing Red's shelling out for cab fare, or else we really would be piggybacking it to my place. Or teleporting. I hear she can do that now, but kinda keeps all the witchy stuff on the downlow ever since her trip to the dark side. Can't say I blame her there; prison kept me out of the slaying game for three years, so I totally get Red needing a break from the mojo stuff. It's cool.

Anyway, we've been doing recon all day. Red seems to think that the vamps out here are organized, kinda like a mob, but with fangs. Dude, how trippy would it be if this city really *is* crawling with fanged mafia men? I've been out here for over a year now, and I've seen some pretty freaky shit in my time out, but nothing near apocalyptic like Red's making this thing out to be. Been mostly gangs of rowdy vamps and some damn ugly demon boys, but nothing major enough to call in the Cleveland back-up for. Even the sewer demons from last spring weren't much of a biggie to take down. Sure, they were big on the tough and sported a modern day gator look with some fierce looking fangs, but they didn't stand a chance against a full fledged slayer that was seirously craving a good kill. Once I got in there with my sword and crossbow, they were nothing but easy prey. I even got a belt out of the deal. Took some of the hide over to this guy I know that's big on the animal skins and he hooked me up with this flash lookin' piece of demon gator skin to wrap around my hips.

With the way Red talks it, we could really be onto something here. See, about a week ago, she got set up. Some Xena loving blonde tried to take Red out in the alley. Got her good and drunk and lead her out back (typical vamp tactics) and not only was Blondie gonna take Red on, but a couple of her buddies had the rooftop staked out. Creepy, huh? Anyway, they were dumb enough to pick the one bar with a slayer working behind the counters, and while I was stacking up some crates, I heard some kind of brawl going on outside. Slayer hearing, gotta love it. Figured it to be a dyke fight; got some vamps instead. They were decent fighters, but nothing I couldn't handle. I took a major beating from one of those bastards, though. Guy caught me off guard and got a few licks in while I was wailing on the blonde chick. I was handling it, but Will did a little mojo and bam! Vamps be gone. Just how I like it. Didn't know it was Sunnydale's finest 'till the next night when the girl came in thinkin' I was some lowly potential. Whatever. The baby slayers have got nothing on me, man! I was busting out moves they couldn't even dream of doing. Don't see the wannabes hopping off rooftops, do you?

That's when she laid it on me that she's got this city figured out to be vamp mob central. Makes sense I guess, in some weird tripped out kind of way. Hell, I didn't even know human mobs still existed, so a vamp mob? Un-fucking-likely. Call me cynical, but I think she's full of crap at this point. Seems to me like she's using an Apocalypse to get over her girlfriend, so I'm just playing along, seeing where this thing goes. Gotta admit, this is the most excitement I've had since the big blow out in Sunnydale. I'm digging it enough to stick around and humor the chick. Besides, if a vamp mob exists? It's gonna be here. Or maybe in B's little corner of the world, but probably out here. New York's got a rep for it, you know? Godfather and all that. At least, I think it took place out here. My pop culture's a little shaky. Cope.

The cab pulls up to my digs a little while later and we hop out, Red making a quick pause in her hopping to pay the guy. He thanks her in some heavy accent and I can't place and whizzes away, leaving the two of us with a mouthful of exhaust fumes. We didn't talk much on the drive over, mainly 'cause we didn't trust cab man as far as we could throw him, so it was tight lipped easy conversation about sports and weather. Now that he's out of sight, I throw up my arms and sigh. This whole day was a bust.

"Well, that was fun," I breathe out sarcastically, sufficiently frustrated now. "Can we do it again tomorrow? Because I just love wasting my whole day questioning folks that ain't gonna talk."

"Okay..." she starts in, mostly likely trying to muster up the words to calm me the fuck down. "I know that today wasn't the best day, but we can't give up, Faith! I know there's something going on here. Those vampires were working together and they meant business! We just have to refigure our tactics and try door number two."

"Which is..." I ask, holding out my hands and giving her best intimidation look.

Hell, even my feet are killing me and I got a four hour shift tonight plus patrol. Maybe I'll just blow off work tonight, call in sick or something. The chicks there all think I'm screwing Red anyway. Man, at this point, they'd call it a fuck day and give it to me free of charge. According to them, I need to get laid by girls more often. It'll cure my "wandering eye". Apparently one night stands with a steady string of males means I'm unsatisfied with dick and need to get more in touch with my sapphic side. Thank you, Sally Jesse. I just love it when the whole fucking bar tries to shrink me like that, like they got nothing better to do than mess with my love life. My shrink back in the slam said it was because I was never loved much when I was a kid, so it's typical of me to sleep around and screw with people. You don't get hurt that way, you know? Whatever. It's all a bunch of crap to me.

After another impatient look from me, Red starts talking. "It's... it's... I don't know yet. But I will! And soon! Very soon! Just give me another few days. I need to look up a few more things and then you can be big and bad and go intimidate more people, okay?"

Fuck, I feel like she's talking to a dog when she gets like that. It's like here Faith, be a good slayer and then you'll get to kill things! Doesn't that make you happy? Okay, so maybe it does give me a little happy feeling inside to hear I get to throwdown with something, but I don't need bribes to get the job done. Like I said before, if this thing is bogus, I'll just point and laugh and give her the old, "I told you so."

"Fine, whatever," I manage to grumble out. I'm still playing along. For now. "You got more time. But this had better be worth it. I mean, you know me, I'm all for playing with the team now and putting down the bad guys down, but I'm not one to chase dragons either, you know? Don't send me out after a hunch. Give me something real to fight."

"It's not just a hunch, Faith. I know there was something more going on that night I was attacked. Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason that there are so many vampires out here? I know you said they're not the ending world types, but that's just it! Why would they want to end the world? If they're making profit from hits and who knows what else, they wouldn't want the world to end! And that's why we have to put an end to this. They're probably doing all sorts of bad illegal things."

I can't help it, I gotta laugh at the tirade. Bad illegal things? Typical thing for a small town girl to say. Makes it sound like they're a bunch of petty thieves with a hard on for cheap crime sprees across the city, like robbing liquor stores. If that's what I'm taking down? Count me out. That's we got the NYPD for, you know? Let them deal with the illegal stuff; I got other things to slay.

"What?" she pouts at my laughter. "What's so funny?"

"Just wondering something here, Red," I explain. "Just what kind of bad are we talking? Killing people bad... or are you just not down with the criminal lifestyle? I'm not gonna make a big out of a bunch of pickpocketing vamps just because it doesn't fit into your picture perfect world of wholesome goodness."

She just looks at me weird and shakes her head. Guess that's a negative on the petty crime thing. "You really don't know me anymore, do you? Do you really think I would get all uppity over something silly like that?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she sighs. It's so sudden that it snaps me out of my teasing makes me take notice of the hurt look shining in her eyes. Okay, so maybe I'm going overboard here. I just don't like being lead on, you know? This whole teamwork thing is new to me. I'm wicked rusty when it comes to working with others.

"Wait," I implore with a touch of my hand on her arm. "I didn't mean that, Red. I'm just used to flying solo. Nobody out here knows what I do. I don't get any help with the slaying. No friends, no watcher, not even a potential for when the going gets too tough to handle on my own. I've been picking my own battles out here. So when someone else comes along, telling me I gotta do this and that, I get a little touchy. It's like fucking... I dunno, Wesley all over again."

I bite my lip, feeling bad that even when he's dead, I still find a way to insult the guy. I feel like a real bitch right now, picking on him after I made a big out of how unfair it was that he had to bite it. There's just no better way to express it, though. I mean, when I think about someone bossing me around, I think of him. Even when he got a backbone and a badass makeover, he was still working that authority thing. He didn't bust me out of the slam for tea; he busted me out to take down Angelus. And we did it his way, not mine. Boy sure did get off on telling me what to do. Kind of makes me wonder about him...

"I'm sorry," she responds softly. Whoa. Now I'm getting the sorries? Trippy. "I'm not trying to boss you around. I'm just, you know, trying to be research girl here and I know you're not all book girl, so it's kinda up to me to figure out all the brain work and -- "

"-- send me out on missions?" I finish off with a smirk. "Check you out, Red. You're like Giles Junior now."

Truth is, I'm not all that surprised. I mean, the girl always was smart. She's got the brainy part of watcherism down, man. Wouldn't put it past her to out-watch Giles, either. G-man's cool, but he's got nowhere near the brains and power that Willow's got. All this chick needs is a little confidence and she's good to go. That whole mousy thing kind of gets in the way of being bossy. Gotta chuck that trait out the door if she wants to make it in this biz. Especially with me. If she's gonna pull the boss gig, she better get tough. Only way to get through to me, you know? I'm all about the tough love. Smack me down and I'll just come back harder. Part of why prison agreed with me so much. They didn't apologize for putting me down and I knew what would happen if I was a naughty little Faith.

Red actually looks a bit offended at that, which I don't get, since she's always been G-man's biggest fan, but whatever. I'm not about to try to get in her head. "Hey! I'm not Giles Junior! I'm not British... or male! And I'm not a Watcher. I'm just a witch that likes books."

"So's Giles," I point out, smirk still in place. "He does spells, right? And it's a no brainer that he digs the big dusty books. And hey, I'm pretty sure he likes chicks too. Was a real ladies man back in the day."

"That's not a fair argument! You can't just compare me and Giles because we both like women."

"Looks like you're running out of steam there, girlfriend. Bow out while you're still hot."

One last smirk and I'm turned around, leaving her in my dust as I head into my building. The chill's got me shivering a little inside and I wouldn't want that to get mistaken for that whole 'shaking in my boots' routine, so I skip out mid-conversation and hope she's got enough sense to follow me in. If not? Girl's shit out of luck 'cause my intercom thing's broken and I haven't gotten around to calling in for a quick fix-it job.

"You coming?" I call out as I fling open the door, warm air from the inside whooshing out to slap me in the face. It feels damn good and I moan a little, barely audible, but it's obvious I'm getting some relief with this. Red comes up quick, looking like she could use a little warmth herself. Guess we're both a bunch of morons for verbally sparring in the middle of the street. Man, you'd think a smart girl like her would've taken us out of the cold ten minutes ago. Damn.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" she asks with a giggle, leaving me wearing my confused face as I slam the door shut behind her. She notices and speaks up again. "All the double meanings."

Oh... *that*. I just chuckle and push her in the elevator. "Well, if you wanna read into everything I say, then sure. I do it on purpose. But I'm gonna go with you've got one Hell of a dirty mind that B would piss her pants over if she knew. How's that?"

"I think that Buffy would surprise you with how much she wouldn't," she bites back with a smirk of her own.

"Riiiight," I laugh. A certain memory of a bleached blonde vampire and chains comes to mind. "Little Miss Tightly Wound gets her naughty on now, I dig. Who'd you say it was now? The Immoral or something? And here I was thinkin' *I* was the bad slayer. Damn."

Speaking of, that sounds kinda hot. How come none of the guys I run with get cool names like that? All I get is Joe and Scott and Chris. I gotta find a new breed of guys to get bouncy with.

Red busts out laughing and shakes her head in amusement. "No, The Immortal. But she's kind of bored with him, I think. They're breaking up. Or maybe they're already broken up? Buffy's love life is so confusing sometimes."

"Tell me about it," I reply with a roll of my eyes. Girl just keeps on surprising me with ehr taste in men. Who knows, maybe she'll be the next to go gay. Seems to be the trend around here. First Willow, then Xander. Hell, I wouldn't even be surprised if Soul Boy and Spike were shacking up with each other.

The elevator stops at my floor and we get off, beat feet down the hall, and we're back in my kickin' apartment in no time flat. Man, I could really use a little something to take the edge of off this day. I duck off into the kitchen while Red settles down for some time with the tube. Bet she's got on Charmed or something, judging by the female voices chanting in rhyme. Doesn't matter to me what she thinks of as good TV, 'cause I'm about ready to get hammered right here on the kitchen floor. I'm stooped down low, searching through my cabinets for the bottle of vodka I know I got down here somewhere. I end up spotting behind some old cereal boxes - Captain Crunch - and grin.

"Score," I breathe out quitely to myself, satisfied at my find. I'm in serious need of a screwdriver. Got a craving back when we stormed in on some dive and the dude we were questioning was downing the things like water.

A quick check in the fridge confirms it that I got OJ, so I crack open the freezer and bring out the ice, joining it with two glasses and a call out to the living room. It's no fun getting drunk alone, you know? And I can always chalk it to being considerate of my guest. I'm no Miss Manners or nothing, but if I'm gonna get down with alcohol, I might as well put out the invite before I'm too gone to care.

"Hey Red, you into screwdrivers?"

There's a short pause, then a reply from the girl herself, who's now standing in the doorway sporting a shit-eating grin. Damn, I should've known after the way she threw back that tequila at the bar. Red's a freakin' boozehound now. She rubs her hands together as if she's still cold, but I see right through the charade she's playing out. "I could use a little warming up. Stirred not shaken, though."

She winks at me and I just laugh and nod along. This is gonna be a long and interesting night. "Coming right up."

Another love to abuse

ROF: Better off alone [16 May 2005|05:54am]
[ mood | complacent ]

I'm gonna sound like I'm echoing the geek here, but it's been a while. Not real sure what's been keeping me; but hey, I'm here now and ready to get back in the groove of this thing again.

Guess the best place to start is with the now ex-boytoy. At first, everything was cool. We got in the occasional fist fight, but it was nothing out of the ordinary, you know? Just another one of those love/hate things goin' on for me that I seem to dig so much, as if my thing with B wasn't proof enough of that. I'm more of a doer than a talker; so chances are, if I'm smashing your face in with a wicked right hook, it just means I like you... unless you happen to be lacking a pulse, and then all bets are off. Buffy might like her man's shoulder to be a little chilly, but I'm all about the hot-blooded loving. Ain't nothing like the feeling of a hot, pulsing body pumping into yours like the fate of the whole fucking world depended on your gettin' off. And with Hamilton, I didn't even have to hold back.

But after Hamilton lost his supernatural prowess, he just wasn't the same guy. Boy got ten kinds of whiny on me and every time we'd get bouncy, I'd forget that superman had lost his wings and if I wasn't careful, I could really hurt the guy. Lawyer Boy wasn't really down with his girl bruising him up like that -- must've hurt his precious ego or something -- so after a while, he just started getting gone whenever I started to get a little lusty. Doesn't take a genius to get that after a few weeks of that no sex shit, I got wicked frustrated.

Before the big power outage, our fights usually led to fucking -- you know, a little rough sex to get over the rough spots, stuff like that. Afterwards? Not so much. Fighting turned into me grabbin' the kid and spending the night at the Academy or him gettin' kicked to the couch. Eventually, a girl just had to face the facts. Me and him just weren't meant to be. There was something seriously fucked up about our whole relationship deal from the start. And let's be real here, I wasn't with the guy for his winning personality; it was all about the sex for me. Sure, when I was knocked up, I got wicked hormonal and needed somebody around to tell me I was still sexy and screw me when I couldn't even see my own damn feet, but I'm over that now. I've got the bod back and the moods in check, so why the fuck did I need to keep a guy around to tell me I'm pretty? I didn't.

Thing is, I was all for packing my bags and moving back in with B and the baby slayers, but Hamilton kinda did the bailing thing for me. Woke up one morning and... BAM! Dude was already halfway across the Atlantic and all I got was a lousy note explaining what was up -- he was off to his homeland for some kind of self-discovery shit and left me the kid, the penthouse, and a hefty bank account with enough cash in it to keep Hailey styling up to her high school graduation and beyond. Got myself a sweet ride with some of that cash, too... and get this, it didn't even make a fucking dent in the stash! Never thought I'd say this... but Hamilton was an alright guy while it lasted. I mean, when my dad skipped out on me, I didn't get jack. At least with him leaving, Hailey still gets the best. Doesn't hurt that I get to live like some freakin' fairytale princess either. The rich life's got its perks.

Other than that, slaying's been my main thing. The vamp population is starting to climb out here, so I've been taking the girls out there every night to put the big scaries down. B mentioned something about this being the season of apocalyptic doom. Didn't know demons followed an almanac, but whatever. Word is, every year around this time, something big pops up with major plans for world destruction or domination... sometimes even both. Gotta admit, I'm pretty psyched about the possibility. I could use an excuse to blow off some steam and beating down the bad boys is *exactly* what I need to take the edge off.

Another love to abuse

_garden: I'm the good slayer now [04 May 2005|03:00pm]
[ mood | amped up ]

So, B's gone off the deep end and not in the fun way I go off the deep end every now and then. I'm not talking about the occasional beatdown on a vampire or going out for some after-slay action. I'm talking about full out teaming up with the enemy and beating down her buddies kind of crazy. And when Buffy Summers makes *me* look sane? You know it's gotta be bad. I know I ain't perfect -- I'm a few cards short of a deck, but do you see me beating on poor defenseless wimps like Willow fuckin' Rosenberg or makin' with the big lust for the undead? No. I've got a mouth like a trucker and a lust for the kill, but I keep my damage at the things that deserve it -- the vamps, demons, and whatever else crawls out of that Hellmouth.

Turns out? The day after our little heart-to-heart, B goes bat-shit crazy at school, runs out, and we think she's jumped ship, but then G-man runs into her; and get this -- B's all teamed up with Angelus and tryin' to pull off that whole "check me out I'm so badass because I've got a vampire boyfriend" act. I don't mean to laugh, but come on! Little Miss Pastels working the goth look? So not happening. And Angelus? Whatever. We all know she's got her panties all twisted up for Harris, so all this I'm in love with the big bad vampire crap is bullshit. I'm not buying it.

Does Buffy really think she stands a chance against a slayer, a witch, a couple of watchers, and a whole slew of potential chicks? We got the brains and the brawn on our side, and I hate to say it, but B? Not the brightest crayon in the box. Don't figure a vamp's got much brains either. I mean, the dudes I run into on patrol are a lot of the stupid, so I'm guessing Angelus ain't much different. If the crop's bad, even the cream of it's not gonna be anything to brag about. For real now, I don't know why the gang's all worried. I get that they're bummed that their precious Buffy's moved onto bigger and badder things, but we can take her! I'm a slayer too, you know? If anybody's got the goods to beat her, it's me.

Everybody's acting like it's the end of the world around here. Giles ain't looking too hot after his encounter... guy won't even flirt with me anymore. Wesley's all wound up too. Guess the watcher types are blaming themselves for this, like maybe if they saw it coming, then they could've stopped it before it got bad. I still say we should've just doped her up 'til she dealt with the departure of mommy dearest, but my opinion don't seem to weigh much around here. Even with the Buff taking a vacation, I'm still getting the short end of the stick. Always second best, you know? Never good enough for them.

Well, fuck that! I don't need a group of lame-ass high school kids to trail after me like a bunch of whipped puppies or a bunch of British men to fawn over me like I'm the queen of fuckin' England. I was chosen for a reason, I wasn't just some cosmic fuck up, and now's my chance to finally prove that my calling wasn't a mistake. I'm just as good a slayer as Buffy. Hell, I'm probably even better. See, B's got this thing where all she does is whine about how slaying messes up her picket fence lifestyle, but me? This is what I live for! This is what I was made to do! And with Buffy playin' it up as the bad slayer, now's my time to shine. I'm gonna take her down once and for all. I might even get her new boytoy too, just for kicks. Nothing says slayer like taking down the biggest and baddest of the vamps, you know? I'm gonna kick their asses. Man, B's gonna be sorry she ever messed with me.

Tonight's my night. Screw Giles and his misfits, I'm gonna do this *my* way.

Another love to abuse

_garden: Slayer on slayer bonding [24 Apr 2005|03:53am]
[ mood | confused ]

Man, just when I think things around here can't get any weirder, they do.

See, about a week ago, I was cruising through the Academy, just checking out what was in the fridge. I'd been slaying and you know how I get -- hungry and horny. So I was scraping down near dangerous levels of both and was in serious need off either something sweet or something sweaty. I swiped myself some of B's sweets and was on the look out for Giles when who do I run into but little Miss Tightly Wound herself. Man, that chick needs to take a chill pill and fast. Girlfriend got all up in my face for snackin' on her ice cream. I'd apologize, but we're living in a freakin' communal! Everything here is up for grabs. You don't see me labeling my shit, do you? No.

If you ask me, I'd say B's got some freaky sharing disorder or something. Girl got ten kinds of cranky about me having to take everything she's got. Um, what? In case nobody noticed, I got nothing. No home away from here, no family, no friends, nothing. All I've got is the clothes off my back and some wannabe watcher guy with a jones for telling teenage girls what to do. Man, it's gotta be a serious power trip to be in that position. I mean, a geek like him, getting to spend all his waking hours with a room full of skinny girls in tiny shorts. Hell, if I had a dick, I'd get hard just thinking about. All those bouncing chest and kicking legs; gotta be hard for the guys around here to keep it in their pants. Bet they get all kinds of friendly with their right hand when class is out.

Anyway, B was acting like I was out to steal her life, and even dissed on my `get some, get gone` philosophy. We were about to have fists, but ended up hugging instead. Yea, don't ask. I'm pretty wigged about it myself. Turns out? Blondie's been pulling the bitch act 'cause that vamp broke her mom's neck. Man, talk about a tough break. As much as I'm not friendly with Buffy, I can't help but feel wicked guilty that there I was, on the look out for some action, when she's just trying to deal with losing her mom. I don't know what's up, but I don't think she's handling it well. Doesn't quite seem all there, you know? I mean, I'm no poster girl for sanity, but at least I'm not seeing my dead mom sitting on the armchair across from me. Guess we all deal in our own ways. Me? I was happy. But Mrs. S seemed cool, like one of those June Cleaver types, so it's gotta be real tough on the buff to lose a straight up chick like that.

Thing is, I don't know what's worse -- growing up like I did and cheering when the assholes around me bit it, or having this perfect life shattered and actually being sad when things get shitty. Guess it sucks either way. Just proves it, no matter where you live and who you are and how good you think you have it, shit happens. Nothing good lasts forever. At least I'm used to it. I worry about B, though. Girls like her? They can't always handle it when the bad stuff goes down. If I were Giles, I'd keep a close eye on her; make sure she isn't really cracking up. Maybe even dope her up 'till she's gotten used to the idea and can deal.

Besides that, I don't got much else to tell. Unless you want to hear about how Kendall or whatever is still an uptight bitch, and then I got plenty of stories to tell. Maybe next time. But for now? I gotta meet Wussley for some training. Boy's got his boxers all twisted up over my lack of self control in the field. Whatever. They're vamps! If I don't cut loose on them, they're gonna cut loose on me. Nobody's gonna cry over me dragging the fight out a little longer than necessary so I can leave a world of hurt on some random bad guy. It's my job, you know? Fuckin' Watchers. If doing violence disturbs them, they're in the wrong line of work.

Another love to abuse

Slayerinthecity: New York City, here I come [13 Apr 2005|06:08pm]
[ mood | content ]

-- June 20th, 2003 - a month after the Sunnydale Hellmouth was destroyed --


It's about half past midnight, and I'm out on the balcony on my hotel room, craving a cigarette and a moment away from all the little wannabes. The girls are getting settled in for the night, so I'm cool with catching myself some alone time without some kid asking me if I got a nickel for the candy machine or an extra hairbrush. I just gotta remind them that -- Hello? Wanted fugitive here. Really not gonna be sporting much in the accessory or cash department when I'm on the run from the boys in blue. B's the chick with the stash. All I've got with me are the clothes on my back and a newly purchased pack of smokes. I'm a big fan of the Marlboro.

Man, after Red's little comparison, every time I light up, I get to thinking about Wes and the rad way he busted me out of the slam. Damn, that was hot! We made one Hell of a team together. When he wasn't trying to bait naughty Faith out of her shell, that is. Kind of puts a damper on the redemption gig when you've got your former wuss of a watcher calling you a rabid dog, you know? Can't really say I blame the guy though; it's what I needed to get the job done. Watcher Man was just doing what he thought was right -- greater good and all that. Though I gotta say, stabbing that girl? Not cool. Nowhere near being okay in my book. Boy sure did slip, huh?

Anyway, we're in some small middle of nowhere town near the Cali-Nevada border, trying to scrape together enough cash to keep the wannabes fed and styling while G-man figures out what to do next. Gotta admit, all this tagging along with the teamsters stuff was really starting to grate at me. I dig the girls and all, but I was never one to hang with the crowd, you know? Always been more of the loner type. And, as much as B said I was welcome to kick it with the gang, I get the feeling that yea, I earned my place among the ranks, but that don't mean anyone's thrilled about me being around. My instincts were screaming at me that it was high time I got the Hell out of dodge. Besides, after all the feminine bonding in prison? I was so over the shacking up with big groups of rowdy chicks. Kind of had my fill of that.

"I thought I'd find you out here," a voice says, interrupting me from my thoughts. The prissy male tone tells me it can only be one person.

"Giles," I turn around with a grin, flashing my teeth at the old guy. You know, for somebody old enough to be my grandpa, he was looking pretty easy on the eyes. "Come out here to bum one?"

I shove my pack out to him. I got plenty and I figure it's the least I can do after he loaned me the funds to buy a carton in the first place. Giles shakes his head though, turning down my offer with a wave of his hand. Guess the old guy isn't into blackening his lungs like me and Spike. Boy's more of the pipe type, anyway.

"No thanks," he replies gruffly, and I can almost hear the lecture coming on. "Faith, you really shouldn't -- "

" -- smoke? Yea, I know, bad for my health," I finish off for him with a smirk. "But I gotta remind you, in this line of work... what's gonna get me first? The big C or a demon on his lucky day?"

That shuts him up fast and he nods begrudgingly, putting away the lecture... for now, anyway. "I actually came out here to discuss the future with you. Or, more accurately, what your plans are now. Will you be coming with us to the Cleveland Hellmouth?"

Whoa. Is that Giles actually showing concern for me? Damn. What's the catch?

"Buffy, she... well, Buffy's decided to take Dawn and some of the girls to Europe for an unspecified period of time."

Ah, there it is. Golden girl Buffy's throwing the stake in on G-man's big Cleveland pow wow, so watcher man goes to the next best thing -- me. I can see it's really got the guy too. He's got this whole wounded puppy look to him, like he's totally bummed that the buff's finally ready to grow up and flee the nest. Offer's tempting, but I gotta stick to my guns here. I'm not really momma bear material. I mean, the last time I got put in charge? I screwed up. Big time. Got a whole mess of girls killed and everything. I'm *not* gonna be responsible for that kind of thing again. It's just me, myself, and I from here on out.

"I was kind of thinking about heading out on my own, actually," I admit with a shrug. The filter on my cig's getting dangerously close to my fingertips, so I take that as my cue to casually lean over the balcony and flick the ash away, purposely avoiding eye contact all the while. "You know, see the world. Maybe go back east. The Big Apple's lookin' pretty sweet right about now. I could do a lot of good in that city. Place has gotta be crawling with vamps."

"Well, I do suppose New York City would have quite the vampire population," Giles chuckles. Wow. He's taking this better than I thought. Man, I thought he'd start bawling over both members of the chosen two turning him down on his slayer boot camp idea. There was always Kennedy... "You'll need money though, Faith. Have you any sort of funding?"

I frown, his logic being a major bummer on my plan. "I've slummed it before, Giles. It's no big."

"Wait a moment," he says with a surprising hint of conviction humming under his words. "I know that there have been mistakes in the past, concerning both you and Buffy, and if the two of you are to go out on your own, there's no reason why you should be forced to, as you stated, 'slum it'."

"So whatcha gonna do, Giles? Rig the lotto? Rob a bank? 'Cause we're scraping down near dangerous levels of broke as it is, so where you gonna get the cash to support me and B from?"

His expression grows stony at my question, and I can't help but wonder if G-man's about to do one of the above. Man, could you imagine Giles gathering up the wannabes for a crime spree across the country? Fuckin' wild, is what it is. Or maybe he's just got some secret stash somewhere from past dirty dealings. Giles is a straight up guy, but I always got the feeling that he'd been in my shoes before. Like there was more than meets the eye with him. Buffy mentioned something about him being badass way back when.

"Well, as you may have heard, the council is no more. There are a few survivors from the explosion, mainly the ones sent out to do field work at the time. I've talked to quite a few of them and we're thinking of rebuilding the Council."

"Okay..." I say slowly and warily, so not digging the idea of a brand new Council to boss me around. "But what does all that have to do with me?"

I got a lot of bad memories about the Council, so hearing that the fuckers that tried to take me out were rebuilding it wasn't exactly good news to me. Hell, I cheered when I heard the thing went down in flames. No more Quentin Travers to worry about. Boy was the biggest pain in the ass I *ever* had to deal with. Good riddance, man. I know I'm supposed to be all repenty here, but the guy had a serious attitude problem! If he'd just listened to Angel, he'd know that I was in a bad way and was over the bad guy routine. But no, the dude was so gung ho on taking me out, that there was no way he was gonna give me a chance to buck up and own up to my actions. He was just sore that B quit the Council and was taking it out on me. Bastard.

"Well, first of all, there are going to some major changes taking place. It's been obvious for quite some time that the previous methods weren't up to par with the modern day slayer. Some of the methods were far too primitive and harmful to the girls, such as the Cruciamentum. I was hoping to take it in a more humane direction, including offering up financial support using the Council's funds to help out the slayers. Not everything was destroyed in that blast; most of the accounts are spread throughout the world in various banks to ensure their survival."

"You're gonna pay me to slay now?" I ask with an amused grin plastered across my lips. Alright, now we're talking! I could be down with getting paid as I slayed. A hundred bucks a pop for every vamp in the bag. Man, talk about a salary! I'd be rolling in riches if that was the case.

"I was thinking of it as more of an allowance, but I suppose that sums it up as well. I'll send you and Buffy a check every month to help tide you over while you find living arrangements and jobs."

Aw, man. I still gotta get a regular job too? Bummer. Beats living on the skids though, so I just nod my head and play the fuck along. New York's expensive; I could use the extra boost while I'm setting up shop. I stick out my hand, hoping he takes the hint to shake it. You never know with these Brits.

"You got yourself a deal, Watcher man."

* * * * *


-- September 15th, 2003 - New York City --


"You've got to be kidding me!" I exclaim as I take stock of the bar before me. The Meow Mix? What the Hell kind of name is that?

"Hey, you said you were in need of a job," the chick beside me points out. Yea, yea, thanks for the reminder. But this? Whatever. I'm about to turn around and haul ass back to my place when she grabs my arm. "Wait! At least come inside first! Trust me, it's a cool place. Never judge a bar by its name."

I sigh and spin back around, allowing the chick to drag me inside. Girl was right, I'd been here a month and was still living off my slayer's "allowance." It paid the bills, yea. But what about my kicks? If I wanted to look good and eat more than frozen dinners, I was gonna have to join up with the job having folks. These leather pants of mine were startin' to look wicked ratty. Damn.

"What makes you so sure they're gonna be down with hiring me on the spot?" I ask, slightly curious about what my "date" has up her sleeve. Mel's a good girl, but she's seriously naive sometimes. Unless she's got something to hold over this place. You never know with these chicks. They look all fresh faced and sweet, but underneath the sugary sweet exterior? Total badass just waiting to pounce on you. Truth is, I'm really only sleeping with her 'cause she reminded me of another blonde I used to know. I mostly drive stick, but I go for the occasional cruise on automatic. Mel here was one of my occasional cruises.

"Because I know the owner!" she giggles excitedly. "I used to work here for a while when I was trying to pay my way through college. They all loved me and I'm sure they'll love you too. They keep asking me to come back. I can't with my new job, but I can do the next best thing."

"And what's that? Finding fresh meat for the sharks?"

"Bingo," she answers. "It's totally your scene too. Now quit brooding and get that hot leather-clad ass in here!"

Girl can take charge, that's for sure. I grin and follow her in, mostly doing so just so I can stare at her ass in that miniskirt she's wearing tonight. Well, if my scene is girls, girls, girls, then Mel's got it right on the money. There's a few guys mixed in with the crowd, but this place seems to be strictly chickly.

"A lesbian bar?" I question when we're about halfway to the bar area. Okay, so I get that I'm a little butch, but I'm not a full out carpet muncher! That title goes to Sunnydale's most popular witch.

"Yea, isn't it great? It's probably the most popular dive in New York City for lesbians. We're sort of famous! And don't worry Faith, guys come in too. And since you'll probably be the only one here looking for males, you've got your pick!"

Well, I guess it wouldn't kill me to give this place a chance. I mean, if it blows, I can always walk out and a find something else. Not like I gotta sign a five year contract or something. The dive ain't half bad either. The clientele aren't too bad looking and the music's already got me hopping. They've got a good club vibe going on and none of that flowery Sarah McLachlan crap you'd expect to find in a place like this.

"Alright," I grumble after a long silence. "I'll give this place a shot."

"Cool!" she practically squeals. God, she reminds me of B. Or maybe her kid sis, she's kind of a cross between the two. "Okay, now just sit tight at the bar and I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere."

"Not about to," I roll my eyes at her retreating form and sit the fuck down.

I need a drink in the worst way. With Mel doing her thing, I figure it's about high time to do mine. I wave down a waitress and hook myself up with a bottle of Jack Daniels -- my all time favorite dude. When Mel comes back with the boss, I'm already halfway finished and grinning like a fool. Been a while since I got my drink on. The chick she brings out is a forty something butch in a pair of tight jeans and a sleeveless black top. She's got cropped brown hair and warm brown eyes and if I didn't know better, I'd say she was checking me out. Oh yea, her eyes definitely landed on the twins and stayed there for a good long while. I stick my chest out a little, just for good measure. I know how this gig works. You're only hired on the spot if you've got a nice rack.

Mel doesn't waste anymore with intros, and gets to the name game fast. "Faith, this is Katerina. Katerina, this is Faith. She's looking for a job."

We shake hands and after another quick check out of my tits, she grins at me and nods. "Call me Kat."

And you can call me hired, is what I want to say. But I bit my tongue, smile friendly, and take a swig of the Jack. "Alright, Kat. Nice little place you got here."

"Thanks," she replies and her smile widens. "So Faith, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Nada so far."

"Good. You can start then. Be here at 8 o'clock sharp so we can show you the ropes before we open up for the night. You know how to pour a drink?"

"'Course I do," I scoff with a look of "duh" on my face. I'm no rookie in this field. "I've played bartender before for quick cash."

"Perfect. I'll see you then, Faith. Take good care of Mel."

Kat disappears before I can say another word. Damn. Hope my get some, get gone policy doesn't get me fired quick. Mel's good in bed, but not exactly morning after material, you know? We ran into each other at a club a few nights ago. Some dude was harassing her in the back alley and I was searching out vamps when the music got dull. Ended up pummeling the wannabe boyfriend instead.

Instead of gettin' lost, Mel hung around to play a game of hero worship with me. Can't say I can complain about that, it got me free drinks for the rest of the night and a good rubdown later. Girl's a fucking genius with her tongue. Good enough that she scored herself my number and another date. I'm digging her in the now, just not real sure how long before I start craving strange dick and end up having to dump her. At least I got a job out of this. Maybe I ought to stick around more often. Everybody seems to know everybody in this city. Could have its perks, you know?
Another love to abuse

_garden: Out with the old, in with the new [02 Apr 2005|12:25am]
[ mood | fuckin' powerful! ]

Oh man, what a rush!

I know I wasn't the biggest fan of this `slayer` thing when I got dragged out here, but fuck, now that I got the power? I'm totally digging this gig! All those years of being weak, all those years of being told I was nothing but trash.... none of that matters now. You know why? Because I'm better than that now. I got all this strength now, all this power just coursing through my veins and I'm on fire, baby. Nothing can stop me now. I'm not nothing anymore. I'm the fucking chosen one! Screw Buffy and her whole `I'm still the slayer` thing. Nuh uh, girlfriend. You died. I don't know how, don't really care much either. The point is, there might be two of us, but the line runs through me now. I'm THE slayer and B can be A slayer. Titles don't mean much to me, I'm just buggin' about everyone still looking at B like she's the top dog in this place, when she already gave up that right. It's my turn now.

And man, do I ever get a kick out of this gig! Screw playing nice, I go all out when I'm on the hunt. Wussley seems to think i get a little too into it, but whatever. Isn't putting the hurt on vamps our job? I mean, last I checked, a vampire slayer slayed vampires. So what if I like to beat around the bush a little and play with my kill. It just makes it all that much sweeter when I bring my stake home and bathe in that big dust shower. I'm not about to go about this like a fucking robot. I gotta have a little fun with this, you know? I'm not some wannabe princess that's afraid to get her hands dirty. I'll roll around the dirt and take a few hits, get my skin a pretty shade of black and blue, and then BAM! They're gone and I'm still breathing, my blood hot and my muscles aching.

This is gonna sound crazy, but every time I slay a vamp, I just get this urge to fuck the nearest warm body and scarf down an entire pizza. Wonder if Buffy gets the same kind of hungry and horny feelings I do. I'd ask her... but I kinda get the feeling that little Miss Tightly Wound would rather eat bugs than admit she's got some less than wholesome feelings brimming under that golden exterior of hers. Whatever. Her loss. If she doesn't wanna play nice? It's no big. Not the first time some uppity bitch shunned me... won't be the last either. Better to just get used to it, you know? Deal and move on, that's my motto. I got better things to do with my time.

This slaying things got me really wound up. I don't know how much of this going to bed alone thing I can handle. But looking around just makes it all the more obvious that my options? Not the best. I mean, sure, there's some good looking girls in this joint, but do I really want to screw Kendall or Katrina? Kat's kinda cool, she's a Hell of a lot less uptight than the dead president, but I don't know. I kind of think that girls ain't gonna do it for me this time around... which leaves me with two stuffy British men, a couple of geeks, and some short dude that doesn't say more than two words at a time.

I'm still thinking it'd be cool getting G-man in the sack. I mean, I see the look in his eyes when I get him all riled up. There's something deeper there, something dark. Boy's got a secret. And man, that kiss? Total hot stuff right there, baby. You know, for an old guy, he sure knew how to work the tongue action. I'm just bummed that B didn't catch us this time.

This thing with Giles has got me thinking that maybe that's my problem with guys. Young guys just don't know how to please a girl, you know? They got these wicked clumsy hands and over eager tongues that they just wanna ram down your throat the second your lips touch theirs. Giles wasn't like that. He knew what he was doing with his tongue and his hands... fuck, I don't even know where to start with those. There was red hot fire between us for a while. God, I could've taken him right there in the Bronze. But, like everything else, once things got good, he got gone. Apocalyptic happenings and what not. Whatever. I think he just got scared shitless that he was macking on some underage girl and enjoying it.

Too bad he's not my Watcher. Instead, I get Wussley Wyndam-Pryce. Watcher man's gotten wicked uptight ever since catching me and G-man in that tight liplock. He's gotten real jumpy around me now. Like when we train, he can't stand touching me. It's like he thinks I'm gonna jump his bones too. Hate to break it to you Wes, but that ain't happening. Ever. Boy's gotta grow some balls before I'm hopping in the sack with his lame ass. Man, what's with Watchers and the uptight? I get that the folks across the ocean are a little more reserved, but come on! This guy can't be serious with the prim and proper routine. Man, sometimes I don't even think he's human with the strict regimen he keeps up. Guy's downright creepy when it comes to playing by the rules. I don't know how much longer I can take his attitude before I'm tossing him out a window or something. Girl's gotta live, you know?

Another love to abuse

_garden: Teasing the Watcher [21 Mar 2005|01:57pm]
[ mood | apathetic ]

So... this potential slayer thing? Not the big bad I had it cracked up to be.

I mean, I'm still a little shaky on the part where old British men shack up with teenage girls, but I'm starting to get a real feel of how this could work in my favor. It's got promise, you know? 'Specially with the older, less uptight one, Giles. That guy's got a wild side just screaming to be let loose. Never would've thought Geeves has it in him, but me and him got real intense back at that slayin' shindig 'bout a month ago. I was big on the pissed after he clocked me over the head for doin' my job, but whatever. Boy made it up by gettin' all hot and heavy with me.

Man, we were so close to some serious lip-locking when B had to come in with her lame boytoy and ruin the mood. And damn, could she have worse taste? Buffy's a good looking girl, not really the type I'd hook up with, but she's got that whole you-can-take-me-home-to-mom sweetness about her. Small town dudes seem to dig that in a chick. Little slow on the uptake, but guys aren't really looking for intelligence, you know? So why she's with that funny lookin' clown, I'm stumped. Not sure why I even care about who she's gettin' bouncy with. Guess I'm just sore that she got her release with the loser, while I went home high and dry with nothing but pent up frustration from ruffling up the old guy's feathers.

I'm not crazy about him or nothing, I just get a real kick out of riling him up. 'Cause let's face it, in a place like this? I gotta get my kicks in somewhere. Not gonna find it out on the streets since B's the big shot slayer around here until she croaks, and if I'm gonna be stuck doin' the school thing, flirting with teachers is my best bet in surviving this place 'till I get "called" or whatever. Still not real sure how this slayer thing works, but it involves ass kicking, so I'm good as gold on the subject. Already got some mad skills when it comes to the staking.

Man, who needs slayer strength when you've been fighting out on the streets for years now? I got this gig down. Too bad the watcher types seem to think you gotta have the superstrength to take a vamp down. They ain't that tough. I already got three in the bag. Even saved that one chick, Kendall or something, from a major beatdown. Man, you should've seen the look on her face when I saved her ass. Classic. Totally fuckin' classic. Girl got seriously peeved at me steppin' in to pick up her slaying slack. Hey, it's not my fault I'm the better slayer. I was just doin' my job. Cope.

Still not big on the other guy -- Wussley. He's such a fuckin' know-it-all, always trying to tell me what to do. Whatever, man. I'm not about to take orders from some wimpy guy with a hard-on for tweed. Can we ship him back to the mother country? How the Hell did this guy make it past immigration anyway? Maybe back in England the stake-up-your-English-channel thing is seen as cool, but over here in the US of A? Not so much. Never met a bigger prick in my life.

If I get assigned to that guy, I'm quitting. For real now, we're like oil and water whenever we get together. Boy just doesn't fly with me, you know? Hand him over to the dead President girl. They're both pretty tightly wound with a holier-than-thou thing going. Wes thinks he's the greatest Watcher of all time, and the rich bitch thinks that just because she's been training since she was in diapers means she's the be all and end all in all things slayer-y. Yea. Right. We all know B's the only one with any real power around here. Even I'm not stupid enough to think I could be the top dog around here. At least, not 'till I get gifted with the slayer bam. Then it's high times for the Faith the slayer, baby. I'm gonna be living it large all over this town.

Now I gotta go check the mail. Ordered some Viagra for Giles in case he's too old to get it up anymore. Man, what a riot that's gonna be when I show up to class and present it to the dude like it's the prize of the fucking century. Giles is gonna freak!

Another love to abuse

fashion__victim: Showdown at high noon [16 Mar 2005|09:33am]
[ mood | restless ]

"You girls about ready?" Gunn asks as he enters the Hyperion lobby, looking like he's ready to rumble.

I feel it too, that energy in the air that builds up before a fight, making your skin buzz with anticipation of hard punches and high kicks. Man, I'm just *itching* to get my slay on good and hard. With this being my first big fight out, I've got everything to prove -- I can't fuck this one up. Not when C's life hangs in the balance. Everything in me is screaming that this is my chance, this is my time to prove that I'm worth it, that me bein' called wasn't some big cosmic fuck up, and the slayer wheels in me are turning fast as a speeding bullet now. I'm ready to grab this moment up and make the most of it, you know, like carpe diem or whatever that phrase is. I'm gonna kick so much ass out there today. Demon chick's not gonna know what hit her.

Me and Twiggy have been sitting pretty in the lobby for about five minutes now, her with the address to our demon and me with the weapons. I've got a loaded tranq gun and a dagger tucked away, just in case the darts don't do their job and I end up having to kill the bitch instead. Watcher man says I got nothing to worry about, that the tranqs will do the job... but I don't know. I mean, can you really tame a demon? This ain't a deranged zoo animal we're talking about here. When me and B did this, we just killed 'em. There was none of this putting them to sleep crap. I'm not the one in charge on this job though - much as I'd like to be - so I'll give Wes the benefit of the doubt. This time. If he screws up? I'm doing this thing *my* way.

"Yup," Fred chirps out cheerfully. Turning to me, she asks, "Faith?"

"All systems go," I reply with a grin and hop off the couch. I'm too buzzed to sit, so I'm five kinds of happy that we're bowing out of this joint. "Let's motor."

The three of us head out, all falling in line, like toy soldiers going into battle. I can just see some kid placing us all over the war zone. It's kinda how I feel too, like I'm just here and someone else is calling the shots of where I go and when. With my big time slaying sabbatical, I almost forgot how it feels to get thrown into the fray like this. Even back in the 'dale, I was only part-time. B got the full time slay job and I was the back up when Big Red and Clown Boy couldn't handle it. Never really got the chance to see things from this POV before. As cool as it is bein' on top like this, it's scary as Hell too. One wrong move and this whole thing goes down in a pile of Cordelia's ashes. For the first time since I got gifted with the slayer bam, I'm feeling that burden B used to whine so much about. It ain't the funnest feeling in Hell knowing that a whole bunch of lives depend on whether or not you can cut it when the going gets a little tougher than the norm.

Gunn's ride looms ahead of us and we hop in, Texas calling shot-gun like the good little ex-girlfriend she is. I'm stuck riding in the backseat, but I don't mind much. It ain't far to the hospital and I got plenty of leg and weapon room back here, so I just sit quiet as we plow down the road. I gotta hand it to him, boy sure can get some speed with this thing. Looks like our homeboy has a lead foot, just like me. I grin from the backseat while Fred pulls a Wes and grips the armrests tight. I can see her knuckles getting white so I decide to speak up. Girl's gotta learn to find the fun a little.

"Relax, Twiggy," I drawl from the backseat. "Gunn knows what he's doing. The faster we get there, the faster we can bag this demon and call it a day."

"Oh I know," she replies nervously, knuckles still white, though she lets up her grip some. "I just, you know, don't want to get killed on the way there. That wouldn't help Cordelia at all."

I just laugh. Gunn's a good guy, speed demon-y as he is, he's not gonna let anything happen to skinny here. "Gunn's got a handle on this, right?"

"Damn right," he pipes up in reply. He cops a peak over at Fred and offers up a kind smile. Kinda funny seeing a soft look on a hard face like that. "You know I won't be doin' anything stupid if I can help it."

Fred meets his smile with one of her own and I'm left rolling my eyes. Man, for a couple on the outs, they sure do still share a love thang between them. Not that it's any of my biz, I'm just calling it as I see it. Homeboy's still crushing on her, much as he won't admit it. And, like any good humble dude in his place, he gets what the what is, so he's stepping away from the girl, much as it hurts. Wish I could've done that with B. Would have saved me a whole lot of trouble if I had just sucked it up and moved the fuck on.

I distract myself by peering out the windows and watching as the world whizzes by fast in a blur of color and noise. My stake hands gettin' itchy and I'm clutching my dagger about as hard as Twiggy's clutching the armrest. The City of's about as demon infested as the 'dale was, so just being here in the middle of it all makes me ache something fierce to just hop right out the window and go wild on every vamp that crosses my path. Being in lock down for all those years really did a number on me, you know?

I close my eyes and it feels like a minute goes by, but next thing I know, I got Gunn shaking my shoulders and shouting in my ear. "Come on slay girl, wake up. We're here."

"Huh?" I question groggily as I blink myself awake. Whoa. Must not be getting enough sleep lately. "How long was I out?"

"'Bout ten minutes," he answers as he steps out and hauls out his own tranq gun. He's got a duffel and holds it out for mine. "Stick the gun in here. Hospital won't let us past the front door if we're armed."

"Right," I chuckle as I slap myself back into consciousness and hop out, slamming the door behind me. It makes a loud sound as I drop my weapon in. I keep the dagger close though, you never know when you might need it in this town. It fits like piecework inside my jacket, so I figure I'm good with making the all clear. I pat the spot and grin, "I keep this one, Charlie boy."

He flashes me an odd look - probably at the strange nick - and shrugs. We gotta get a move on, I know. Twiggy comes from around the back and we head in together. The nurses recognize us as the crazy bunch in room 17 and barely flinch as we stride confidently past the station and straight into the cheerleader's room. Damn, we made good time.

"Calvary's here," I pitch out, loud and confident as I plop my ass down in an empty chair. Wes is in the other chair, doing the hand holding with with C, whose still looking a little worse for wear. "How you doin', C?"

"Just dandy," she replies sarcastically through clenched teeth like it's hard for her just to get the words out.

"The spell didn't work," Wes explains. "I thought that perhaps I could lessen the pain somehow, but it appears to have only made it worse. Though I assume it's more due to the demon's hold on her than it is to the spell. Did you find the address?"

Twiggy proudly holds up a sheet of paper and nods. "It's only a few blocks away. Faith and I are sure that this is the right place."

"Demon chick's been busy," I add in. "Cops have called her in more than once for questioning. Seems like the LAPD is finally starting to crack down on the less-than-human types. Some chick named Lockley seems to think she's the big bad. Funny thing is, cop girl can't seem to get any solid evidence that she gives manicures of doom, so it's a no go on takin' her out of business."

Wes looks like he's about to congratulate us on a job done well when his jaw goes slack and his eyes go wide. I'm facing the bed, so I don't see what's behind me to wig the watcher out. That tingle on the back of my neck tells me vamp and I turn around quick, ready to pummel whatever nasty got through that door.

"Angel," Cor gasps from her bed, pretty much nailing on everyone's reaction in one word. "What are --"

"I had to see you," Angel interrupts before the chick can say so much as two words. Damn, he's talkative when he wants to be. Looks like brood boy's got a mouth on him after all. "I was out on patrol, trying to find out information on the pendant you told me about when I ran into one of my contacts. He told me you were badly injured."

I can see Angel's cool facade fading fast at the sight of our girl all hooked up on wires and machines with bandages all over her bod to cover up the burns. You know, I was real glad we didn't run into the big guy back at the hotel... but damn, this is so much worse. Cor made it clear she wanted nothing to do the guy until he bucked up and got a clear head about this thing goin' on with me and her. Man, how screwed up is it that I'm actually competing with my freakin' savior guy for the girl? Really puts a damper on the easy thing we had going on when I was in the slam to have him acting like I just stole the sunshine from the sky... or well, something more suiting to what would piss off a vampire. Guess the sun being gone would be a good thing, huh?

Anyway, I'm speechless for the moment, so I just sit back and watch the game. This oughtta be good. Angel versus the AI team. Wonder which one'll come out on top?

Wes is the first to stand up for our damsel. Figures. "Angel, I thought Cordelia made it quite clear that she didn't wish to see you until you had... erm, come to your senses about things..." he flashes a quick look at me and I nod. Good job, Wes. That's the most confident I’ve *ever* seen him be. Well, without the whole prick thing making him seem like an uptight asshole. He was a real jackass back in the day. "I think it would be best for everyone if you left. We won't let anything happen to Cordelia."

"This isn't your fight, Wes," Soul Boy growls and I almost think he might morph out into game face. I can see that inner struggle going on within him. He's trying wicked hard not to let his naughtier half out. Hell, I've experienced the same thing. Doesn't mean I'm gonna take his side, though. "Cordy, do you really want me to leave? I can help you."

Prom queen nods her head - painfully - and replies, "Yes, Angel. Please. Don't do this here. Not now. Not when I'm..." her voice cracks and it takes everything in me not to run up to her and grab her other hand. Gotta keep cool about this, Faith. The pussy whipped act ain't gonna make the sitch here any better. "...like this. I can't handle this on top of the visions and the pain and god, Angel, why can't you just listen for once in your undead life?"

"Because I still..." he looks around, his cheeks flushing. I bite back a snicker at the sight of the big bad scourge of Europe turning red because of a girl. "You know I still love you, Cordelia. I think if you'd just --"

"Angel, this ain't the time to be playin' love connection,” I finally bust in, having enough of his Romeo and Juliet act. "You wanna play tortured lovers? Call up Buffy. But don't put your crap on C when she's all laid up like this. Save it for after we kill the demon, yea?"

Angel just laughs. "Faith, do me a favor and stay out of this. I think you've done enough as it is. And after all I did for you too; this is how you repay me?"

Okay, now that just pisses me off. I stand up, my fists balled and have at him verbally. "Repay you? What the fuck is that? I thought you helped people because it was the right thing to do, not because you were expecting some big prize. Oh wait... you *are* only do this for THE prize, right? Save a few souls, earn one of your earn. I thought this worked both ways, but I guess I was wrong to think that maybe somebody out there cared about me for me."

I can feel my illusions of Angel slowly crumbling with this new light shed on the situation. See, I always had the guy on this big pedestal, like he was some kinda god or something. For a chick with no religion, I saw him as the guy I could go to for the answers. He was my buddy, you know? Stood by me when no one else did. Hell, he should've just killed me and left me out with the trash to rot away outside like I had inside, but he gave me something else instead. I always thought it was 'cause he saw something in me. But the more he opens his mouth, the more I'm getting that yea, he saw something in me worth saving, but he was doing it more for him than me. And now I'm just supposed to sit around and play hero worship 'cause he saved my ass again? Whatever. I'd rather be six feet under than get stuck playing fangirl to a guy who thinks the world revolves around his hair gel.

"That's not true and you know it, Faith," he bites back with an angry scowl. "Helping people is what I do and Cordy needs my help. I'm not going to stand around and watch the woman that I love die!"

I was about to argue, but this time Wes comes out with the big guns. Leave it to the brain of the group to hit the nail straight on the head. "What makes you think she's going to die Angel? Do you not trust her in our care? I can assure you that allowing Cordelia to die is the last thing on our agenda. In fact, we've already formulated a plan to cure her."

"And we all know how well your plans have gone in the past, don't we Wes?" Angel snarks back.

Watcher man turns red in the face and pushes past me, treading ground fast until he's face to face with the big guy. Man, I feel like I'm in a Western now. Angel and Wes face off for a moment, their eyes hard and full of enough emotion to fill me in on the fact that these two have got a whole lot of drama between them that I haven't been clued into yet. Wonder what went down between the two of them to get them so riled up like this. Last I saw, they were tight.

"Am I gonna have to intervene?" I ask and I try not to sound like a bitch about it, but it's kinda ingrained in me, so it comes out like I'm poking fun at their potential brawl.

"NO!" They both bark back at me.

I take a step back and hold up my arms. "Alright, alright, backing off here. Just don't kill each other, okay?"

I keep my distance, but I'm near enough to jump in if I have to. Something tells me that these guys got a lot of stress to unload and not a single part of it has to do with Sleeping Beauty here. Just proves that no matter who you are, you're not immune to the typical macho guy fest. Even redemption seeking vampires and formerly uptight watchers get into it every now and then. Normally, I'd be all kinds of amused by their dicking around, but not today.

This time I do butt in, but it ain't to pull Wes back. It's to push Angel out of here. He stumbles back in surprise and flashes me an incredulous look. "What the Hell are you doing, Faith?"

"I'm over this," I tell him firmly as I motion at him and Wes. "Hash your shit out with Wes another time, Soul Boy. We don't got time for this. Now get the fuck out of here before I make fairy dust out of your ass."

"I think you better listen to the girl," Gunn says, a little growl in his voice for good measure. With me and muscle man teaming up, Angel don't stand a chance. Add in Wes and we've got an unstoppable team. "She sounds pissed and even if I don't know her that well, she doesn't seem like the kind of girl you piss off, you know what I'm saying?"

Angel looks like he's about to fight us, but then he blows out a flustered breath instead. Oh yea, we got him good. He finally shrugs and backs off. "This isn't over yet."

He storms out of the place like some last action hero type after the bad guys kicked his ass good and I almost expect him to throw out some cheesy line about how he'll be back in some whack Eastern European accent. Nothing happens, though, and he's gone in a flap of his black leather duster. I turn to my compadres and grin. It's good bein' part of the team again. They got my back -- I get that now.

"Thanks," I actually manage to spit out my gratitude... and the big shocker? It don't sound fake. Or snarky. Just me being real.

"For what?" Wes asks in this cute confused little boy way. You can tell it just blows his mind to hear the big bad rogue slayer saying some sweet words. Wes is totally tripping out at this brand new me.

"For helping me out back there. You know, gettin' my back... like how Giles got B's. You're not so bad, Wes."

Watcher man coughs, his eyes bugging out of his head now. "I could say the same for you... minus the watcher part of course. He will be back, though."

"Yea, well, let's hope it's later rather than sooner. I can deal with brood boy once we got this demon bagged. But right now? I'm feeling about ready to pummel something."

"I hear you on that one, girl," Gunn grins from behind me.

Wes just looks at the both of us like we're his naughty over-hyped kids and shakes his head. "I suppose that there isn't much else to do here. Fred and I can stay with Cordelia while the two of you track down the demon."

"Not so fast," Cor manages to croak out. "Now, I'm all for the two of you getting slay happy, but I'd just like to remind you that me? Not dead yet. So you two better think twice before you walk out of here without saying goodbye."

I gotta hand it to her, even like this? She's still fucking scary with that bossiness thing. Cor's just got this way about her that makes you wanna listen to what she's got to say. Probably why she was so good at being the top dog in high school. She doesn't give up easy, that's for damn sure. I grin at her - lazy and happy - and saunter over to her bedside.

"Think I can get a good luck kiss?" I ask in that way I use when I'm gonna do something anyway, but I'm just getting the okay beforehand. Worked like a charm on all the frat boys at The Bronze. Man, they didn't know what hit 'em when I pulled the lap kitten routine with my long lashes and pouty lips and a body that just never stops. Hook, line, and sinker.

Cor smiles back at me, pained but happy, and nods her head as much as the massive migraine she's gotta be sporting allows her to. "I think that could be in order."

As I bend down for my kiss, her hand comes around my neck and pulls me to her neck instead. I almost knock my teeth on her jaw, but recover quick. Slayer reflexes, gotta love 'em. Her mouth comes to my ear, hot breath puffing on my skin, and she whispers in a way that's got me trippin' out from all the good shivers running up and down my spine. "Thank you. For what you did for me with Angel. I wasn't strong enough to do it myself."

My head turns, this time so our lips are barely touching and I reply just as softly, "Not a problem, C. I wasn't gonna just sit there and let him play a game of 'pity the souled vampire that can't get laid' with you. Boy's gotta learn when to count his riches and walk away."

I know where that path leads to too. The one where you get so pissed off and angry that you start taking it out on anybody that comes your way. Friends? Doesn't matter. When you're hurt so bad you can't see straight, stuff starts to get skewed all wrong. Kind words turn into insults and a helping hand looks more like a fist ready to pummel you the second you let your guard down. Angel's at that place right now, where all his friends are enemies and he's not about to trust a single word that comes out of our mouths. There really ain't no reasoning with the dude right about now, so I'm gonna save my breath and wait for him to come around. He's taking a note from my old tune but I can't fix him if he's just gonna shut me down the minute I open my trap and try to play head shrink.

"He needed a wake up call," she sighs sadly. "I know Angel though, he'll act like a total baby about it for a few days and then he'll come back just like he always does. It's his way."

"Yea," I breathe out in reply. Okay, enough about Soul Boy. I got something else I'd rather be doing with my lips. "Kiss now, talk later."

Our lips touch against each other's softly, still in that experimental phase where we're memorizing every centimeter and contour and learning what makes the other grow hot with need. My tongue flicks over the dip in her lower lip and I swear she moans with pent up pleasure. Her fingers start dangling in my hair, the tips moving ever so slowly against my scalp, pulling me down closer to her. My lips part and her tongue quickly darts inside and we taste each other for a while, tongues dancing and hands wandering.

"Ahem," a voice coughs and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I assume it's gotta be some displeased doc, so I spin around quick, only to find Mr. Prudent himself glaring back at me with his stern face on. There's gotta be a million things he wants to say right now, about how "inappropriate" it is to play tonsil hockey in a hospital, but he mutters one word instead. "Demon."

"Yea, I know," I roll my eyes. "Don't bother with the lecture. I'm on it." I shimmy back around to flash C something akin to my trademark shit-eating grin and send a flirty little wave in her direction. Oh yea, I've still got it. "See ya, C."

"See ya, *F*," she flirts back with a bat of those long lidded lashes. It kinda reminds me of B, how she used to say 'F' when I got on her nerves, and I almost falter in my cool. The Buffy subject's still a hot topic with me. It's like a scab. Won't heal if I don't stop picking at it, so I walk over to Fred, swipe the address and link my arm with Gunn's.

"Let's blow, big guy."

"Stay cool, Queen," he says as his goodbye song. Boy's not even fazed by me; guess he gets that blow doesn't exactly mean a thing you do with your mouth. Most folks shit bricks when I start throwing that catch phrase around.

We're out the door a minute later, the mission hot on our minds. I'm gonna bring a world of hurt down on this mother fucker.

2 were broken | Another love to abuse

_garden: What the Hell is this place? [11 Mar 2005|07:35pm]
[ mood | confused ]

Can I just start this off by saying...

WHAT. THE. HELL!?


Okay, so maybe I'm digging this whole free of charge room and board thing, but what the Hell kind of "private school" for "gifted kids" sends out a team of prissy British mama boys to Boston to drag some chick they don't even know kicking and screaming all the way to some private jet that they use to fly her all the way to some lame one Starbucks town like Sunnydale, California? I don't know about you, but I feel like I've just been drafted to play lab rat to a bunch of sick fucks with a fetish for teenage girls.

First of all... gifted? Fat chance. I dropped out of high school about six months ago with a winning grade point average of about 2.0. I'm not winning any contests in intellect so I'm really not gettin' the part where I'm "gifted" or whatever. School just ain't my thing, you know? I'm more of a party 'till ya drop kinda girl. Doesn't exactly mix with the 7 AM wake up calls you gotta work to make it to school on time. Man, if I had a dime for every time I showed up to class hungover, I'd be a freakin' millionaire by now.

So if "gifted" means you're failing all your classes and puking in the bathroom during passing periods, then I guess I'm your girl.

I guess I'm supposed to meet with the head dudes sometime tonight, somebody called Wesley Windham Pryce. Am I the only one that hears that name and already knows that this guy is gonna be a total joke? Sounds like some lame wannabe James Bond villain. The name screams money too. I mean, how many poor people go by the whole three name thing? Not many. See, I wasn't exactly overflowing with riches, so I just go by one name -- Faith. If you wanna know my last name? You can look up my fucking file and find it. But me? I'd rather not be associated with the bastard that knocked my mom up and ran out on us. Doesn't exactly stir up memories of the warm and fuzzy variety, you know? My dad was a total jerk.

Anyway, enough of this pity party. This place ain't all bad. The other kids are bordering on strange, but I figure they're just as clueless as I am. At least I got my own room, unlike some people. Man, I pity the poor fools stuck with bunk bed duty. I dig my privacy. I'd be so out of here if they thought I needed to shack up with some other chick. I'm sorry, but the girls here? Not really the type I buddy up with, you know? Everyone here is just so fucking green. Makes me feel like a fish out of water to be stuck with all these innocent small town do-gooder types.

All I know is that this better be the explanation of the century or else I'm *so* out of here. I can take care of myself, I don't need a bunch of uptight losers telling me what I can and can't do. They're not my mother. Not like dear ol' mom did much in the way of house rules in the first place. I got my share of punishment, but not for the crimes I committed, other than being born that is. Fucking bitch.

Way I figure it? I can take the first bus out of here and be in LA in no time. I always wanted to leave home, just never had the guts to up and do it myself. Now that I got a free ride out of Southie, I could be down with a quick get-away to somewhere worth my time. This place seriously blows, man. I gotta hook myself up with somewhere a little more slamming than these digs.
1 were broken | Another love to abuse

Slayerville: All I live with is regret [27 Feb 2005|02:05pm]
[ mood | morose ]

Alright, so the other day (or try a few weeks, whatever), I had a long chat with Angel. I gotta tell you, it was real nice seeing Soul Boy again. Good to know that he's still the same old brooding vampire he always was. Didn't get a chance to talk about the humanizing thing with Spike, but we did clear the air about his sudden "I'm too good to talk to any of my old friends" thing, so I figure we're good.

Still not crazy about the mindwipe thing, but I got my memory back, so I'm just gonna let that whole Connor thing slide. The guy just wanted to give his kid a better life; I can't fault him there. Man, if I had the chance to fix some of my bigger mistakes with a trip like that, I would've scooped it up in a freakin' instant. Nobody gets regret more than we do. Sometimes you just gotta take a short cut instead of stickin' it out on the long road. Problem is, it usually leads to a bad place anyway, so the way I see it? You're screwed either way. Damned if you do, damned if you don't -- that kinda thing. I'm just pissed that Soul Boy's little shortcut to better living came at the cost of two good men.

Wes and Gunn didn't deserve what they got just so the boy wonder could have a better shot at life. Don't get me wrong, I dug the kid, even if he was a raging psychopath with a big hate on for his daddy half the time, but he was a good fighter -- I'll give him that. Really got the job done when it came down to it. Kid was big on the skinny too, but then again, so is B and check her out. She's the longest living slayer on record, so I'm guessing string bean arms don't mean much when you got the power already. Thing that's got me buggin' is, when did it become Angel's call on what happened to his buddies? Screwing with Connor's life, I get that. But the others? They didn't deserve that.

I just keep thinking that I should have been there. Here I am, working that redemption thing for all it's worth, and yea, I did some good. Put the cap on Angel's naughtier half and helped B with The First. Doing that whole thing in Sunnydale, it felt the ultimate good deed. I mean, putting down the first fuckin' evil, that's some pretty major stuff right there. If there's anything out there that would earn a slayer an early retirement, it was that. Sure, we lost a lot of girls, and a few members of the gang to boot, but sometimes you just gotta count your losses and move on. So living it up in Rome? Really didn't seem like such a bad idea after all that stressing. I was totally diggin' that gig.

Then word comes out about Angel and his very own battle with the ultimate evil, and I just feel like all that time spent in Rome was a total bust. All the martinis and one night stands with hunky Italians suddenly seems like I was just wasting my time when I could've been out on LA, fighting the good fight, and doing what a slayer's supposed to do. Putting down the big bads, that's what this gig is all about. I get that it's not my fault that Wes and Gunn are gone, but I can't help the major guilt vibes I'm getting from not being there to help. I got called in once, why didn't I get that call again? All it would have taken was a phone call. One freakin' phone call and I would've hopped on the first plane out and been there.

It's stupid, but I was kind of hoping that maybe once B's slayer school got set up, that Wes could be my watcher again. I'm not really in the game of needing one anymore, but it would've been cool to work that watcher/slayer thing like we were supposed to. We made one Hell of a team when it came to takin' down Angelus. Man, can you imagine the kind of team we could've made now? Prison had me wicked rusty when it came to the slaying game, but I'm feeling the power again. I've got the old fire back and I'm just itchin' to put a world of hurt all over the first big nasty that comes my way.

If anyone's up for some slaying action tonight, I'm your girl.

Another love to abuse

Slayerville: Dead People [16 Feb 2005|11:43pm]
[ mood | okay ]

Am I the only one around here that thinks it's a little weird that nobody seems to stay dead anymore?

I mean, it's cool that these folks are gettin' second chances, I know all about that gig, but come on now! Something's not right here. People don't just come back from the dead, not unless something big's about to go down. I don't know what's up, but I got a feeling that whatever it is? Can't be good. I don't know about you guys, but I'm just itching for an apocalypse to come our way. Been a while since I got my slay on. Sure, I come across the occasional vamp, but the vamps out here are seriously lacking on the tough. These guys are dust in like, two seconds. I need something more, you know? Something that actually makes me work up a sweat. That's what being a slayer's all about, right? Taking down the big bads, saving the world, and risking our lives in the process. It's been way too easy lately. Give me a fucking challenge already! Come on, big bads! Show me what you got! I'm up all night and I could use a good rumble.

Anyway, I hear Spike never really went off to the great beyond after all. Ended up coming back to fight the good fight in LA. Man, I wonder how B's coping with that. Girl was wicked depressed back in Rome, always pouting about her brand new undead boytoy being nothing but dust in the Sunnydale crater. Guess the Billy Idol wannabe and pipsqueak were tight too, 'cause the kid was crying right alongside Buffy. Being around those two was a total downer for a while there, but then one day they bucked up, saw the Italian boys, and tossed all thoughts of Spike aside.

Thing that gets me, though, is why didn't he just pick up a phone, call up the buff, and fill her on on the whole resurrection sitch? I mean, you'd think that with a big love like that, Buffy would be the *first* person on his list of folks to hit up. Instead? He stuck it out with Angel and his gang. Kind of makes me wonder if something was going on between those two... Angel always could dress. And the hair gel? Way too overdone for him to be completely straight. Spike ain't much better. Boy might be all about the punk rock, but he still works that whole pretty boy thing more often than not. Guy's got the nail polish and everything. I wouldn't put it past those two to be gettin' down with the kinky vampire loving.

Speaking of the big guy, I hear he's back too. When I find him? You can bet we're having words. Does being the big time corporate dude suddenly mean he can't write? I know I sent him a postcard or two, just to check in and let him know I was doing alright. Boy's supposed to be my buddy, you know? So what's with the sudden too good to talk to me anymore thing? I get that heading off an evil law firm's a full time job, but damn. I was better off in the slam. At least then I could count on a visit every now and then. Guess you gotta be behind bars for the big guy to find the time to drop a girl a line. Or maybe vampires are just too stupid to use a phone. Seems to be the theme around here for those lacking a pulse. Gotta get hip to the times, boys. We're not living in the 18th century anymore. There's a whole wide world of cool gadgets out there. I mean, even I splurged on one of those picture phone things. Man, that thing is the kick! I get all sorts of good snaps with that baby. Like B drooling in her sleep on the flight over. Don't even try to deny it either, girlfriend. I got the picture proof right here.

And now I hear Spike's sporting a brand new pulse? Damn. Bet Soul Boy's really throwing a fit over that one. Poor guy. All this time, he thought that prophecy was for him, and now it goes to his grandkid instead. Tough break, man. Must really put a damper on wanting to stay on the straight and narrow when you find out it's all bogus because the other vampire with a soul got the big snazzy prize instead. What a bummer. Man, if I were Angel, I'd be kicking Spike's ass right about now. I mean, the guy spends the last fifty or so years of his life tryin' to be good, reining in those neck biting tendencies and gorging himself on rats instead, and what happens? The boy totally loses out to a dude that got a soul just to please a girl. What kind of shit is that? Seriously! Don't get me wrong, I dig Spike as much as the next chick, but when it comes down to who's deserving and who isn't, it's kind of a no brainer. Soul Boy should've got it.

Then we got the blonde chick that Red used to run with back in the day showing up again. Ended up walking in on the two of them the other day, right when they were about to get bouncy. You should've seen the look on their faces when I came busting in there looking for B! Classic. Totally fuckin' classic. I was all over watching them go at it, but they were big on the shy, so all I got out of it were blushes and stutters. Damn. I could've used a good show too.

Cor's back too from what B talks. Last time I saw her, she was looking *real* big and shacking up with Angel's boy. Prom Queen got all uppity with me just 'cause Connor had a little crush on me. Does anybody else find the whole Cordy and Connor thing creepy? I mean, the chick changed his diapers! Wes told me all about that on the car ride over. Heard Fang wasn't exactly crazy about their freaky union either. Man, what I wouldn't give to see his face when he found out. I just don't get how she can go from wiping his ass one day to groping it the next. I might not be the most discriminating chick on the block, but even I got some standards. That's just low, man. Real low. Fuck the son 'cause the father can't get any. No wonder Angel went a little crazy in the end there. A guy can only take so much before he loses it, you know? You got my sympathy, Soul Boy.

Anyway, I gotta bounce. Got girls to train and vamps to slay. If a certain vampire with a soul wants to find me, he knows where I'm at.

Another love to abuse

Slayerville: Just checkin' in... [05 Feb 2005|09:55pm]
[ mood | talkative I guess ]

Alright, so B's been on my ass to get on this thing for a while now, so I figure it's about time I dropped in and said a few words. Besides... Buffy and the whining? Not exactly my idea of a party. Girl's got a way of making you feel real guilty for not getting on the journal bandwagon. Might as well keep the princess satisfied, you know? Beats the speeches any day.

So after we made a big crater out of the 'dale, I thought about gettin' lost for a while. You know, go off on my own, try out that whole grand adventure thing, and get my wanderlust on in a great big way. I was fresh out of prison and had the whole world sitting right there in the palm of my hand, just waiting for me to pave my way through its surface with a trail of dirt and dust and blood behind me. Sunnydale ain't the only place vampires frequent. The big bad scaries with world domination plans are all over the fuckin' globe. Even thought about going back home to Boston, but when I thought about, *really* thought about it, a bad feeling in my gut told me it'd be a bad idea, so road trip it was... minus the detour to Southie for a little reunion with pushers and thugs. Don't really need the reminders of what I used to be, you know?

But then B started all this crazy talk about going off to Europe. Not real sure what was with the sudden urge to go all multicultural on us, but I got an invite and said to myself, "What the Hell?" Could be worse, you know? The girls were all headed to Ohio with Robin, so it'd just be me, B, Giles, that hobbit-y looking geek, and the brat. Not a bad deal, if you ask me. Don't get me wrong, I dig the girls and all, but living with them 24-7? Not the kind of life I needed after spending three years with a whole mess of female types. But here's the real kicker -- B wanted me along. Man, we spent so much time at each other's throats that I never thought I'd see the day where Buffy'd actually want my company. Even during the big battle, we weren't friends. We were just two chicks with superpowers that had to get along for the greater good (Yea I know, I'm channeling Xena here. Cope.). A warriors truce, that's what we had. Truth is, I didn't know how long Blondie's hospitality would last. Part of me thought she'd kick me out the second we saved the world. Then it'd be back to goody two shoes B with her gang of do-gooders and ex-convict Faith on the run again.

Let's not forget that little problem that possibly had me up on the world's most wanted list. See, folks go a little wild when a seventeen year old girl murders a bunch of people. If a scrawny teenage girl can do that much damage, she's gotta be wicked dangerous. That's what that female hack thought -- Kate, I think, was her name. Pretty girl with nice eyes and a big hate on for Angel. Was all ready to lock him up in a cell with a daylight view and watch him burn. All 'cause he provided a safehouse for the naughty slayer. And man, Soul Boy was all ready to take that long walk into the sunrise for me, too. It's why I had to turn myself in (Well, that and B kinda said that was the only way to make up for what I did. And back then, I was still crazy in love with everybody's favorite bottle blonde. Man, I would've done *anything* if it meant living and fighting at her side again.). Couldn't let the big guy make up for my slack, you know? I'm no fucking coward. I'd do my time to make up for my crimes.

But mostly? I just needed a place to sit for a while, without those Watcher wimps coming at me with needles or Evil Incorporated sending demons after me. Can't really redeem yourself when you've got a whole mess of people sending shit after you, trying to take you down. If it wasn't the LAPD on my ass, it'd be something else and it was time to stop running. Been at that gig all my life, and let's face it... after a while? It gets *real* old. Sitting still for about 25 years to life a couple of years started to sound like the equivalent of Club Med for the old folks. The food was nasty and the company was bad, but I got the best damn help a girl could ask for.

Fact of the matter was, I wouldn't be safe unless I was back behind bars, chilling out while California's finest made sure I was locked down tight. Council wasn't gonna bother with me once I was out of their hair and the lawyers wouldn't give chase if I was someplace they could keep tabs on me. Not like I could pay them back, anyway. Part of being dirt poor means you got little to no money. So if that's what they were after? They came after the wrong girl. I'm fucking wiped, man. Besides... demons and cops don't really mix. I mean, sure, there's plenty of demons that feed of the men in blue, but for the most part? They don't bother. Especially with a chick in maximum security. Hell, the demons would get fried just trying to break in. If they wanted to throwdown with a slayer, Buffy was ripe for the taking. I was just the back up anyway. Think the demons saw me more as an ally than a threat at that point, even if I did make dust out of 'em on a regular basis.

Anyway, I was all over the chance to bounce off to another continent in a place where a fresh start was all any of us were looking for. I hear that even B made a few mistakes while I was locked up tight, crossed a few bad lines and was paying for it in her own way. Man, it's been a real trip hearing about all these stories of Scoobies gone wrong. Like Red with her big breakdown over her girl biting it and coming a Hell of a lot closer to destroying the world than I ever did. I mean, I just hooked up with a wacky dude with aspirations to become a giant snake. Wilkins was in charge of all the world ending, I was just around to take care of the little stuff. I did my fair share of bad, but nothing on the scale of what Willow did. I was more in it for the thrill, you know? All expense paid pads in the good part of town with a kickin' state-of-the-art game system didn't suck either. I just can't believe the mousy girl I knew in high school skinned a guy alive and threw down with the Buff.

...and Dawn being a klepto? Damn. Hope I didn't teach the kid those tricks back when we used to hang. I was never shy about my pickpocket tendencies and pipsqueak always thought I was so fucking cool for it too. I just did it to piss B off, really. Looks like it worked, huh? Girl's ten kinds of easy to annoy when it comes to all things wicked and bad.

Then, just to top it all off, I heard Angel's not just working for Evil Incorporated, but the guy's fucking running the whole set up. Huh? Since when did Soul Boy get all corporate? Last I heard he couldn't even use a cell phone. My head was seriously spinning at that point. Even Gunn was all decked out in the 007 gear when we stopped in for some quick cash funding. Man, I never thought I'd see the day where that boy was dressed up all nice, but there he was, standing in line with a suited up Angel and Wes and speaking heavy with the lawyer lingo. Once again, I say, "Huh?" Didn't know the dude for more than a couple of days, but the boy was street right down to his socks. Seemed to be rubbing off on Angel and Wes too, 'cause they were a whole lot cooler than before I went behind bars.

Hell, I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong in Wussley to get him strutting his stuff like a major badass and sporting the unshaven scruffy look with a rugged style all his own. What was it that Red called him? Oh yea, the Marlboro Man. Even carried himself a pistol or two. You know, I never thought I'd see the day where I called a watcher sexy, but damn... Wes and those guns? Really got me wet between my thighs. I would've jumped him... but I spent a majority of my time in LA as a gigantic bruise. Between Angelus and the Beast, I was beat down and sucked dry by the biggest bads that town had ever seen. Think I spent more time getting my ass kicked than kicking ass, but hey, we won, so I must've done something right, you know? Might not have felt like it, but Angel was souled, the beast was dead, and I got a ride back to Sunnydale with a cute redhead. Not a bad deal there, people.

Didn't think much of the Wolfram & Hart thing, but man, I was glad to have their money. Buffy was too, even if she's too proud to admit to digging a hand out once in a while. Hey, we all got our share of cash flow issues. No use in being ashamed, you know? I'm used to slumming it. I've been in welfare situations before. Sucks, but at least you're eating. Besides, Angel's our buddy, he could spare a few thousand just to get us started. Came in handy when we wanted to live it large on Italy. B wasn't complaining then, was she? All those Gucci purses pretty much speak a volume of `no` right there. Girl was all over spending the big guy's money if it meant she'd be styling in the high Italian fashion. Kid sis got in on it too.

I ain't gonna lie, I shopped around some -- nowhere near what the Summers sisters did -- but I've got a whole closet full of leather pants and enough tank tops to keep me covered for about a month before I gotta hit up a laundromat. Picked up this boss leather jacket in a specialty shop, too. Man, I never had something so good as this baby, not even with Wilkins. Fits snug as a glove and even after all this time, it's still got that fresh out of the leather shop smell. I'm mad crazy about that jacket. Even got book man giving me lip me about my "unnatural attachment" to the thing.

Guess the immortal types dig the Prada, because as soon as we got there, B already hooked herself up with yet another dude of the supernatural kind. Man, what's with that girl? She attracts these guys like moths to the flame. I'm just as much slayer as she is, but what do I get? Lame pretty boys that think they're all that if they can get a tough broad like me in the bedroom. Yea. Right. I don't think so, buddy. Takes a lot more than sheet kicking to earn you "man" status. I dig the bad boys just as much as Buffy does, I just don't get the ones without a pulse scamming on my goodies.

Thing is, even the biggest muscle man is no match for a slayer. Mortal dudes just aren't doing it for me, anymore ('Cept maybe Wes...). Cute as those Italians were, I just wasn't feeling the same loving vibes the others got. They're big on the exotic and know how to wine and dine a girl 'till she's warm with drink and full with the best food on the fucking planet, but when it comes down to it, they don't last between the sheets. Not like a vampire could. See, I get why B screws the undead now. Mortal guys just don't measure up. We need something more... something darker. B called it wicked energy... I'm just gonna go with wicked strong dick. Always feel like I'm gonna break these average joes.

So while B was kickin' it with the Immortal and little D was hitting up the Italian ass books, I finally got that `get out of jail free` card. See, with G-man in charge of Council business, I had an in with the big boss and all the power I needed to get those much needed strings pulled with the Cali justice system. Council's got the goods to do mess with the US government and nobody blinks an eye with these pricks. Wanna know why? It all comes down to that five letter word -- money. Council's got a lot of it and the system is always looking for a cheap and easy way to make a little extra dough without the work. So if a bunch of old guys with accents and dollar signs in their eyes pay the head honchos a visit, they ain't gonna say no to all those zeros penned in on the check. Still gotta check in with parole every now and then, but it's not so bad. A phone call every two weeks ain't doing any raining on my freedom parade. Not real sure how clean I feel about the whole issue of my freedom, but hey, I'm not about to complain about a good thing when it happens. Beggars shouldn't bitch or they won't get shit, you know? It's all good here, baby.

After a while, Rome started to eat at me. A girl can only stuff herself with so much pasta before she starts to crave a little Mickey D's or barbeque. Staring at Roman statues of half naked men all day wasn't eactly my thing either. It was real nice seeing all the sites, but I'm no tourist and I'm not one to appreciate culture much. I couldn't give a shit about the Sistine Chapel or Michelangelo's David. And the language barrier? Really started to grate on my nerves after a good long while. I'm no genius, okay? So picking up on Italian just ain't happening for this slayer. Picking up a little Spanish in prison is about as bilingual as I get. Mostly dirty stuff I got from those bitches too Nothing all that useful, unless a Spanish speaking vamp was up for some banter and then I was on fire, baby! Totally had all my insults down to the fuckin' T, man. There was no stopping me once I got into it. All I got out of Italian was how to order food and how ask where the john is. Girl's gotta go sometime, right? Even Buffy got that phrase down within a week of getting out here. And that's saying a lot. B's even more linguistically challenged than me. Trippy, huh? Her cooking skills seriously lack too.

Even I can pop in a microwave dinner without burning the stuff and I make a mean steak on the grill. Picked up that skill from one of the losers my mom brought home when I was a preteen -- Uncle Chuck or something. I lost track of their names after a while... it's when I started on my nickname thing. Think I called this guy Hardy Hal for his flannel shirts and power tool fetish. Kind of like Al on Home Improvement, but a whole lot uglier. Guy had a hard on for barbeque and a thing about showing chicks the way of the grill. Mom didn't buy into that crap, so I got the job of playing stupid female while he preached the ways charcoal and lighter fluid to me. Guess some of that stuck around, huh?

Point is -- I was over the whole Rome thing. Think B was too, 'cause not soon after I started goin' stir crazy, the girl brought up this idea about a slayer school. Gotta admit, at first? I thought the idea was whack. I mean, a school for slayers? Who's gonna send their kids there? Half of these parents don't wanna admit that their kid might have a little more `oomph` in their punch than other kids. Man, we were lucky we got the potentials we did in Sunnydale. This whole set up was starting to sound like some kind of X-Men rip off. Or maybe Harry Potter... I'm a little shaky on that one. After three years in the hole, my pop culture's a little off. See, not only did B wanna set up shop with the slayers of the world, but she wanted all the supernatural types chilling out in Modesto together -- witches, warlocks, werewolves, whatever. You name it? We got it.

And come on now, me as a teacher? That's gotta be the funniest fucking thing I've heard in a long while. I'm just not role model material, you know? B had to do some serious convincing on her part, but eventually I caved on the issue right after B filled me with a few shots of tequila. California might've been the place where I did my worst, but I staked some of my best out here too. We'd been out there for how long -- a year? And not a single demon tried his luck with an apocalypse! I was about ready to pop for a little end of the world action. I had a big hand in helping to bring the sun back to LA, and now I was back to slaying vamps that were dust in like, two seconds tops? Whatever, man. I needed some action and I needed it fast. Modesto was looking more and more like the place to be for some serious stake action.

Turns out? B was right in making this place. There's vampires a plenty and believe it or not, the parents seem to dig the whole idea of a school for their "little freaks". Not even kidding here, guys. Heard a lot of the parents that dump their kids off say some real bad shit about their kid's special abilities. The white picket fence types just can't seem to deal with little Suzie's violent tendencies and supernatural strength. Bet they make up all sorts of stories to the other PTA members about how they sent their kid off to live with Auntie B in California 'cause the weather's better for their allergies than in bumfuck, Texas or wherever these girls are hailing from.

So there you have it... the last year in a nutshell. Happy now, B? 'Cause I think I got fuckin' carpal tunnel from putting all that down. You owe me, girlfriend. You owe me good. A few drinks ain't gonna cut it this time.

Another love to abuse

girls_gone_wild: Flying High [28 Jan 2005|02:48am]
[ mood | satisfied ]

Oh man, what a trip! The next time I take 'shrooms? I wanna be fucking informed! So all this stuff that's been going on -- the Charlie's Angels, ninjas, the blast form the past -- it's all been some kind of psychadelic mind trip thing. Not real sure why me and Red both had the same whacked out dream, but I'm done trying to figure this crap out. Every time Will tries to explain, I just get wigged and tell her to lay off the LSD. All I'm getting from this whole thing is that we went on a bad trip to a bad place, but one kiss from the knight to her princess had us back in the now and sporting some serious headaches. What I'm left wondering is... why the Hell was I playing the part of Prince Charming? I get that I'm a little on the butch side, but dude! I still look enough like a chick that I got hordes of hunks scamming on my goodies like I'm wearing a "for sale" sign or something.

Anyway, we're still chilling in D.C., taking our time to recover from that freaky mind trick that got pulled on us. You know what really blows? Not being able to do a damn thing about it! I got this major urge to throwdown with the thing that did this to us, but whatever did this seems to have already taken the tip from baddies past and gotten the Hell out of dodge before I could pounce on him. Better luck next time, I guess. They can't all run. I'm gonna put a world of hurt on one of these guys sometime soon. I'm just itching for a little slayer action. I'm all wound up and ready to pop. This city's seriously lacking in vamps, so I've been beating my aggression out with the work out gear down in the gym. Red hooked us up with some five star hotel, so it ain't short on the fancy facilities. We got it made out here.

We're holed up in one of those places that only important folks get booked at. Since Willow's such a whiz with the techno stuff, we got ourselves some fake jobs and names to boot. I'm an upcoming actress working on some bound to hit it big Blockbuster and Red's some political chick that's backing my career. Apparently it's the hot thing for celebs and politicians to join hands and do a little dance, so that's the game we're playing. It ain't too bad. I mean, all I really gotta do is play off bitchy and demanding, and let's face it, that's not much of a stretch for me. Cordelia Chase has got nothing on me, baby. I can work the bitch act like no other. Doesn't suck that I'm naturally intimidating either. I got that whole "mess with me and die" look going for me. Doesn't stop every cocky fool from trying, but it scares away a good number of 'em.

Currently, I'm laid out on the king sized bed, all decked out in this wicked sexy black lace underwear set I picked up somewhere along the line on our cross country trek. Red's off in the bathroom, showering or whatever. Girlfriend mentioned something about feeling the need to get clean after taking all that speed. Would've joined her, but my stomach was growling something fierce and all I wanted to do was to lie back, stuff my face, and catch a movie on this flash big screen TV. Room service came around with a platter of tasty treats, so my appetite was set for the day. Did manage to save a little dessert, though. See, we've gotten bouncy plenty of times, but never with the aide of a couple of treats.

Way I figure it, creativity is key in keeping a thing like this up. Hell, I'm just surprised that I'm still sticking around. It was good of her to break me out of the slam and all, but girl's gotta live, you know? If this thing between us didn't fly, I'd be *so* out of here. But so far? All systems are a definite go. I'm just buzzing with the good vibes, so I think I'll hang with her a while longer, see where this "girls on the run" thing goes. Works in the movies, so why not here? Besides, Red's all I got left in this world. If I can't stick around for her, I'm fuckin' doomed, man.

Red comes in a while later, hair still damp from the shower and the complementary robe that came with the room wrapped snugly around her body. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the sight of me. I must look like some kinda porn star with my come hither eyes, trussed up hair, and the undeniable way I run my tongue ever so slowly over my bottom lip. God, she looks good in that robe. Makes me want to rip it off right there. I reach over to the bedside table where a bowl of strawberries sits and I gotta chuckle at the irony there. Redheads always get called strawberry and the joke ain't lost on her either, 'cause a few seconds after my outburst, she's giggling too.

I don't let the funny ruin the mood, though. Just as planned, I pick a berry up and bring it to my mouth, allowing it to tease my lips with its sweetness before taking a bite from the tip of it. I watch her the entire time, gauging her reaction. The way her green eyes light up with an emerald fire tells me a whole lot right there. Red's just as horny as ever and me munching on berries instead of her is driving her up the freakin' wall.

"Enjoying the show?" I ask in a low husk, already intent on teasing this chick.

I slide the berry down the vallry between my breasts, shivering slightly as cold fruit meets heated skin. Damn, that feels good. I bring the strawberry lower, drawing patterns on the pale flesh of my stomach while Willow continues to look on with a fierce interest in what I'm doing to the bod. I can feel her eyes crawling all over my body, starting down at my toes and moving up well-toned legs made muscular from countless days in the yard. She stops at my center, her own tongue flickering out as she takes in the almost see through lace that covers less than it shows. If I turned around, she'd get a wicked good view of my backside. I'm a big fan of thongs. I don't disappoint and spread my legs just enough to show her what she's missing if she doesn't get moving.

It takes her a tick to answer, but when she does her voice is lower than usual, lacking in its usual over-hyped speediness. I dig it when she drops the spazz act and goes sex goddess on me. "Oh yes. Was that intentional?"

She motions at the strawberries and I just grin and shrug my shoulders; no way I'm telling her that it was by total accident that I got those. I had a craving, alright? "I'll let you figure that one out. After all, you're the smart one here. I just kill stuff."

"Well, my brain seems to think that it's by sheer coincidence, but you just look so darn sexy that I'll pretend you planned on seducing innocent little me all along."

"Seduction was always part of the plan, babe," I shoot back with a glimmer of mischief in my eyes. "Now quit spectating and start participating. I didn't order whipped cream for nothing."

Red perks up at the mention of whipped cream and starts moving towards me. Her walk is purposeful with her hips swaying and eyes burning into mine. She stops at the foot of the bed, taking her time so she can drink me in. The scent of arousal is unmistakable and I release a low growl, not sure if it's me, her, or the both of us. Man, we've been so caught up in saving the world that we forgot about the after slay release. I've been going fucking mad with the lack of intimate contact. My entire body was rearing to go, heart thudding and blood racing fast. My breath was already hitched as I watched her make her decent onto the bed, her hands automatically reaching for a square of uncovered flesh. Her fingertips brush across my stomach and I gasp, too wound up to deal with the slow. I need it hard and fast and now.

She keeps looking at me like I'm some kind of tasty treat; girl's got that look in her eyes that vamps get when they see easy prey and know they're about to get a meal. Only with Red, the meal's got nothing to do with sucking blood. They'll be sucking, but we're not into bloodplay. Doesn't stop me from taking a bite every now and then, though. Her hands move up my body now, sliding up my ribcage and skipping over my breasts. I almost protest, but then she moves up to my shoulder blades and pulls the straps down. A second later on the bra is history, tossed on the floor with abandon as her mouth comes down to my right breast. She moves with a slow exploration, flickering out her tongue to roll around the already painfully hardened buds. It's amazing what a long time without can do to a girl. Her tongue continues to circles, gaining speed and intensity and making me mewl like a fuckin' kitten as she tortures me with her hot slickness. I arch up into her mouth, needing more. She gets this and bites down with the tiniest little nip, sending a fresh wave of shivers up and down my spine.

She's still taking her time in tasting me, in touching me. Small well honed hands begin to move down waist and to my thighs, where she takes her sweet time tickling the soft flesh of my inner thighs. One moves down to rest beside my body to balance herself over me as the other slides in between my legs, but over the panties. I hiss at the lack of skin-on-skin and she just grins, her lips curving up on my breast. She lifts her head and smiles, her warm breath puffing out onto my skin and making my ache for her so much worse.

"Patience, baby," she whispers to me. "I want to savor each and every inch of you."

I match her grin with one of my own and let her do her thing. She gets to work on my other breast, this time going right to the fast flicks and hard nips. Her teeth and tongue work relentlessly on me, almost turning me a wicked shade of black and blue beneath her hungry mouth. She's got me moaning in some major ways, every touch of her tongue is like torture, but she doesn't stop. Girlfriend's true to her word -- she's not stopping 'till she'd had a taste of all of me. It's weird, having somebody treat me so good, like I'm some kind of precious commodity or something. Usually it's all grab and thrust and kiss, but with her? Red's all about touching me up until I'm so hot I almost scream when she finally slides those fingers home inside my heat.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a major bitch?" I ask in a mostly playful way, though I'm seriously bugging over her playing with me like this.

"Who me?" she questions, playing off demure as she bats her eyelashes in my direction. "I don't know what you're talking about Faith."

"Sure you don't," I growl out, sufficiently frustrated now.

Another grin flashes at me and her mouth is back to doing its thing, moving up my chest now, her tongue sliding up to my collarbone and sweeping across it. My hips are moving by their own accord now, grinding in an achingly slow matter on the heel of her hand. She's got it pressed up against my clit and the pressure's enough to send a fresh wave of arousal through me until I feel the liquid fire between my legs increase. Oh god, she's good at this. Or maybe I'm just really, really horny. Whatever. All I know is that it's killing me not to have her inside of me.

The kisses just continue until our mouths meet in a union of lips and tongue. I thrust my tongue deep within her mouth, practically fucking her mouth with mine in my desperate state. Red's gonna be in for a big surprise, that's for sure. I reach around, grabbing fistfuls of still damp hair as I crush our mouths together, both of us moaning now at all the hot and heavy liplocking going on. She steals my lower lip and sucks on that a while, her teeth digging into my skin with just enough vigor to keep me satisfied. I dig it rough. I don't stop until the burning in my chest screams for air and I release, panting hard as I glare up at her. My eyes beg for her to touch me, to rip my panties off and go to town. Her tongue serves up as an undeniable temptation to where else she could be sticking it.

She kisses back down my neck, paying special attention to my pulsepoint. More kisses follow, down my chest, between my breasts, and finally down the center of my stomach. My body involuntarily shudders when she removes her hands and kisses the thin lace covering, her breath coming in hot through the material and causing my hips to jerk forward. A giggle from her follows and finally her fingers loop under the waistband as she slowly pulls them down my hips. Red strokes my need softly at first, just featherlight touches against the moist flesh of my sex, coming close to sliding in but never quite going. My eyelids flutter shut as I lean back on the pillows, giving her free rein of my waiting body. I can't help the needy moans that flow out from me on almost every out breath. Girl's driving me fucking wild! She mutters something to me, but in my sex-crazed haze, I don't hear nothing but her melodic voice breaking through the sounds of me panting and the TV going on quietly in the background.

There's barely a pause when she changes gear, replacing her finger with her tongue and sliding it over my slick folds, making me squirm under her touch. Her tongue circles my clit in short swift twirls, the pressure excruciating at this point. I keep bucking up, hoping she'll get the message and make that tongue of hers disappear inside me. My body tingles with anticipation, pressure building up until I almost can't stand it anymore. My thighs are trembling now, slayer strength no match for this witch's talented tongue. Her lips come down hard, kissing me until I cry out for more. Then she slides a single finger in and I almost come right there. She's still lapping away at my wetness, acting like it's the finest flavor she's ever had, moving her finger almost in time with her tongue. I can barely stand the double hits of pleasure I'm getting and my hands grip the sheets hard. Vaguely, I hear the material rip as I buck up again, two more fingers pushing inside of me in an attempt to satiate this screaming need inside of me.

She drives into me harder, mouth leaving as she replaces it with her palm, her entire hand throwing me into overdrive as I grind faster against her, legs spreading wider yet, my toes curling against the sheet. I can't say how long it takes, or what finally sets me off, but suddenly she thrusts and I let it all go, my inner muscles spasming around her fingers as I come screaming her name. Her fingertips urge me on further as they stroke within me and I spill out onto her hand, moaning with satisfaction at how fucking good this all feels. I feel high as a kite and I'm grinning like a fool. Man, who needs drugs when I can get just as gone from getting bouncy with my girl?

6 were broken | Another love to abuse

la_champions: Wake me up inside [10 Jan 2005|01:11am]
[ mood | awake ]

It always starts out the same -- big, beautiful, bright day, the stuff they make postcards to Florida with, me in some girly outfit I'd never be caught dead in, and him bearing that great big friendly smile and feeding me more of his Norman Rockefeller do-gooder talk. Funny that a guy so evil could have so many fucking morals. Really takes a girl for a ride when a guy tells you to eat your greens and if you kill a college professor, you'll get a brand new shiny weapon. The guy's a serious trip, but man, if I'm not crazy about him. Something nags at me, tellin' me he's dust under B's self-righteous stake, but I take what I can get. Girl's gotta eat, right?

We're sitting outside today, not in a park like the usual deal, but out on the balcony of the pad he gave me. Man, I'll always remember that day. I knew the guy was loaded but damn, how many evil folks set their right hand man up with their own private pad? Thought that maybe he just wanted a place away from the office to get down and dirty with me, but turns out? Wilkins wasn't into all that Lolita crap. He was the real deal, a total class act. There wasn't gonna be any trips under my non-existent skirts. He knew I was willing to spread 'em too, but he never pushed, never made a move. When you're used to every guy you meet wanting in your pants, it's a real trip to meet a man that makes good on his squeaky clean image. He didn't even take a peak down my cleavage. Now there's a boy with restraint.

He's dressed down today, clad in a powder blue button down top and a casual pair of khakis. You know, he's kind of cute for an old dude. When he's not workin' the suited politician look, he ain't so bad on the eyes. For once, I'm lacking the dress and in a simple pair of cut off shorts and a white tank. I grin down at myself, totally digging the image I've got working in my favor today. My legs are rockin' a major tan and I'm looking seriously hot with the revealing way these duds are hugging each and every one of my curves. Boss man's got to be crazy not to notice what a good looking chick I am.

"Beautiful day, wouldn't you say so Faith?" he asks suddenly, breaking me out of the lusty thoughts I was having. Man, you know you're in desperate need of a lay when middle aged men start looking tasty.

"It's alright," I drawl out with a lazy smile as I look up at the sky. No sun today, just some fierce looking storm clouds hanging out in the sky. "Looks like rain."

"Ah yes," he replies, still grinning a mile wide as a single raindrop falls from the sky and hits the cement floor. "But nothing will ever rain on our parade, Faith. Just you remember that. Even when you walk off into that sunset, you'll always be my girl. Nothing will ever change that."

He motions towards the horizon and I frown. Was this some kind of death metaphor? Walking off into the sunset always seems to spell out something ending. Works that way in the movies, anyway. Nobody ever starts their journey at sunset, you know? Always gotta end it there. It's all about that circle or life thing or something. Got that much from that lame Disney flick about jungle animals.

"Now, now, pretty girl, don't you frown," he scolds and I instantly stiffen. Sucks to actually care enough about someone to try to make good on their wishes, you know? So much easier when it was all about me. "Our time here may be ending, but your days are just beginning."

My head snaps up and I eye him warily. Huh? Was I actually gettin' out of this never-ending cycle of the holier-than-thou bitch Buffy killing me over and over again? It all starts to make sense in this messed up head of mine. Man, remind me that alcohol really *does* kill brain cells when I get out of this this place -- Hell, dreamland, whatever. I know it ain't Heaven, 'cause if it was, me and B would be screwing each other's pants off in some cheap 5 dollar motel room because we all know little miss perfect would never take me home to mom. I've come to think of it as a sort of limbo between dimensions in a matrix-y kind of way. I know Wilkins took the door downstairs, so maybe I've been good enough here to make up for all the bad. Fat fucking chance, but a girl can dream right? Not that I'm into the whole good girl thing, I'd just rather not burn, you know?

"No Buffy?" I ask, doin' a full 360 to check for the usual scenario. B always shows up around now. So far, no sign of Blondie. I gotta breathe out a sigh of relief at that fact. A girl can only be gutted so many times before it starts getting real old like some goddamned played out record stuck on repeat. "She always comes 'round right about now."

"Just you and me, Faithy," he smiles, coming around to put his hands on my shoulder so we're face-to-face. "This is your big day. Make me proud." He pauses for a tick to check the time. He's got one of those wicked expensive looking watches snapped around his wrist. Bet you anything it's a real gold band. These political types always get a hard on from showing off their riches. Makes up for the lack of something better elsewhere. "Well, time's a wasting. You have places to be, things to do. I wouldn't want to cause you be late with my silly talk, because gosh darnit, it's not good manners and I taught you better than that."

You know, I'm really gonna miss this guy when I'm out of here. Man, I hate to admit it, but the urge to shed a few tears is pretty damn severe and I might not be able to keep up the tough girl charade while saying farewell. I just don't get it. Why does B get the mom, the watcher, and all the little Scooby friends when I don't get jack? I finally get a guy, a good guy that actually gives a damn about me, and he gets taken away from me like everybody else in my life! First my watcher, now him.

Screw this. I don't need a damned Oprah moment ruining this for me. If I'm gonna go out, I'm goin' out with a bang. I won't let him down this time.

"I'll make it up to you," I promise, my body practically shaking with the utter determination pumping through my veins and giving me purpose again. "When I get out of here, Buffy's going down. No more playing around. She'll pay."

"There's my girl," he exclaims proudly, sending good vibes up and down my spine at the pride I see in his eyes for me. "Now get on out of here. It's time to finish the job we started. No loose ends."

I nod fiercely in reply as the scene changes before my eyes. Last thing I see is Wilkins smiling down at me with that familiar twinkle in his eyes before it all turns white. I blink, trying to get a handle on the blinding flash of light that don't seem to be letting up. Everything's blurry at first and I feel like I'm swimming under water. Dammit, if my vision's shot, I'm gonna be seriously pissed off. Can't exactly screw with B's life if I'm a half-blind slayer, you know?

A few more blinks and I'm seeing crystal clear again. The monitors serve up as one big obvious clue as to where I've been hanging for... however long it's been. Nothing gives the time frame away so I focus on me for the time being. Last thing I remember is gettin' this wicked knife wound to the gut and free failing from a couple of stories high building.

Man, I can't believe I'm alive after all that. I mean, the gut wound? No big. People have survived worse. Hell, I've survived worse than that. But the roof dive? Not many people can get up and walk away from a fall like that. There's no sign of a fight on me, so I figure I've been here long enough to heal. Not even a bandage on my gut or nothing. Guess that means Buffy didn't feed me to her undead boytoy after all. If I'm here, that's gotta mean one thing -- Angel's dust. I'd feel bad, but damn, that was kind of my intention in the first place. That, or it'd just be really, really funny to watch Buffy suffer while her boy took a slow road to a permanent death. Boss said the stuff works like a charm but it takes time. Works more on the slow and excruciating and less on the quick and painless.

It only takes about five minutes for me to realize that I'm all alone down here. I'm not really into sitting tight and waiting for something to happen, so I make quick work of the IVs stuck up in me and take the bod for a test drive. I step down onto the ground with bare feet. I've seen enough flicks about folks in comas to know about a little thing where lying flat on your back usually ends up meaning your muscles go slack and walking's a no-go 'till you build it back up. Lucky for me, slayers don't seem play by the same rules as other bed-ridden coma patients. My legs are sturdy as ever and the second I'm up and on my feet, I get a serious rush of adrenaline rolling through my body and making my blood shoot hot through my veins again. I'm chalking it up to bloodlust. I can't wait to see the look on everybody's faces when they get a load of me living it large in their world again. B's gonna freak!

I feel this weird itch in my brain once I'm out and about in the hospital hallways. Something tells me that I gotta get out of here and fast. Man, I almost forgot about how slamming my criminal record must be by now, what with the killings and all. Wilkin's might've given me a clean slate.... but with Buffy and the council goons? I got a feeling I'm in a whole lot of trouble, faked record or not. Bet you anything the cops'll be hot on my trail the second word of my wake up gets out. Guess that just means this'll have to be a quick revenge and then I'm bailing down to Mexico like any other fugitive on the run. Girl's gotta give chase, you know? I'm not ready to spend the rest of my young life in an 8 by 10 cell with the big Bertha types breathin' down my neck.

Another love to abuse

band_of_freaks: Playing house with the Watcher [01 Jan 2005|02:20pm]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

Funny how everything can change in a night. I'm living with my wuss of a watcher now. It ain't bad... I mean, it's not a mansion or nothing, but it's the most righteous digs a girl like me could ask for. Wes's couch pulls out into a bed and he's got a shower and a kitchen. More than I can say for most of the places I've been living lately. Watcher man's got some bitchin' skills in the kitchen too, so I'm set. Got a place to live free of charge with a live-in chef service. Now if only I could convince the dude he really wants to do my laundry, we'd really be rolling.

Anyway, the whole reason I'm even shacking up with the boy is 'cause he came over to my place, all scruffy and psychotic, and pretty much demanded I better myself by setting up shop with him. Crazy Wes is kind of hot, so I figured, why not? If I don't like it, there's a motel room with my name written all over it. Not like this town gets many tourists, you know? Man, could you imagine how this town could advertise for visitors? Come to Sunnydale, we've got vampires, demons, and the monster under your bed. Don't delay! Everybody's gotta go sometime, right?

I could get into this thing, though. It's fun watching him blush any time I wander around half dressed. Boy's so uptight I don't know if he's trying to suppress the urge to throttle me into bein' a good girl Buffy type, or if he's suppressing the urge to excuse himself for a moment alone. He's a total wuss most of the time, so I'm kinda hoping it's the latter. Might loosen him up a little to get off. Hey, you never know. Sex is good stress relief. Whenever I start feeling the tension pushing at my nerves like that, I hit up a club and find me some hottie to go home with. Makes me feel all kinds of better to get my cork popped like that. Best kind of release there is, you know?

What I'm wondering about now is what's up with the rest of the gang? I mean, I know they're wicked stressed, what with the dreams comin' to life thing, but come on. Is it that hard to pick up a phone and call a girl to let her know what's going on? Figures they leave me out of the fun. Sorry Faith, you're not currently living a nightmare, so you don't get to play. Whatever. At least B gave me a call a while back to hook me up with the slaying info. Haven't heard from her lately, but I'm not about to complain about shouldering the slayage around here.

Place is filled to the brim with vamps and I got my hands full every freakin' night with this. Gotta say, it doesn't suck to be the only active slayer around here. Like I'm supposed to be. I'm not really into babysitting the wannabes or having B lecture me about goin' in without a plan. The wannabes slow me down and B's just plain annoying with her do everything by the book mentality. Going at it alone seems like the best plan of action.

That's another thing I'm digging about this new and improved Wes. He's all about putting us on the forefront and Buffy and Giles on the backburner. No more seconds best for me. From now on? I'm the primary slayer in his eyes. It's just me and him against the world. Kinda sounds like a movie, doesn't it? The boy's totally singin' my song now and I'm all over that. I'm still not big on the taking orders, but if it gets me better than Buffy (which really, isn't a stretch. B's a wimp.) I'll give this thing a shot. I ain't making any promises though. I'm more of the free spirit type. This whole following orders deal just doesn't fly with me.

Wes swears it's a partnership but I don't know. Sounds good in theory, but so did the Titanic and I caught that flick. I know the ending to that story and I'm not really into diving headfirst into some kind of suicide mission just to prove I'm a good slayer. If it blows, then I'm out of here and taking this gig on the road. The world's full of vampires. Why stay here when I can take the fight out there? It's something to think about, anyway.

Another love to abuse