Title: Yours, Faithfully
Disclaimer: Please don't sue; purely for entertainment. None of the characters are mine.
Pairings: Kind of B/F
Note:Season 3; before 'Bad Girls.'
Feedback: Always =D
Warnings: None.
Rating: I was gonna rate it PG-13 but I'm rating it R just to be on the safe side (implications of adult situations).

Part 1

The tepid water spilled from the dilapidated chrome tap, making a spitting, tired, forced noise on the way out. Her eyes couldn't move from its clear form, so natural, so pure, constantly carrying this warm sensation that became steam once warm enough. It puzzled her sometimes. How soothing it could be, and how dangerous it could be, all in one.

Even as she stepped into the bath and laid into it, closed her eyes. She wondered how it could comfort and destroy at the same time. It could heal. Or it could drown. She thought perhaps herself and the water were very similar. She could fix…or she could destroy. She could…kill…or she could heal…

- - -

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she looked at her form in the mirror. Her eyes were visibly tired; red and sore from where tears had been shed, from where insomnia had kept her active, for the past three nights.

She listened to how her feet padding on the floor beneath her was the only instrument creating sound; keeping the room from complete silence. She hated so much silence. Normally silence spurred the adrenaline right before she found a ballsed up vamp ready to tell her to die. But when she really was all alone, in this poor excuse for an apartment, she was agonizingly alone.

Her nerves shuddered at the momentary sensation of ice cold as her face hit the pillow. Next her sense of smell grasped the scent that had accompanied the pillow just a little over twenty-four hours ago.

The sensuous aroma of jasmine and rose spirited between her and her sheets as she slid within them. She wasn't a whiz with all these scents but she was pretty clear on these two; she'd asked about them, and they'd stuck in her memory ever since. And now she didn't need for them to stick in her memory because here they were, lingering at her bed sheets.

She let her energy-drained eyelids slide over her sore eyes that burned every time she blinked, and now for just a moment, the pain was excruciating, causing a tear to tread the skin in the corner of her eyes. Just one more tear, she told herself. Then they wore away.

She rolled onto her back, her spine thankful for the release of tension it was given. She could feel all the day's physical pain in her body begin to dissipate as she relaxed into the comforter. Yet her mind still could not rest. She begged insomnia to give up on her and to trouble some other poor soul.

Yet for every moment she felt even more tired, she felt more awake. Itching, to get out. To go. To go to her.

But every part of her sanity told her it was impossible for her to do so. For the simple fact that Buffy Anne Summers would never feel the same way.

But she was sick of feeling sorry for herself. Sick of being alone, not being able to share anything with anyone. Her life.

She heard so much about how Angel and her had been so wonderful, and her insides tightened and twisted with all the thoughts that flew round in her head. She wished it was her.

A part of her felt Buffy was still there. In that same spot that she had been just over twenty-four hours, inhaling, exhaling, sleeping, moving. Doing all the things normal Buffy Anne Summers would.

She wished that the reason why she'd stayed wasn't because she was too tired to go back to her own place.

Faith remembered her exact sequence of motions the previous night. How she'd subtly suggested that her bed could fit in two people, and how Buffy was more than welcome. As usual she made an attempt to squeeze in a comment about how patrolling made her 'hungry and horny' but as usual, Buffy would shrug it off and tell her that slaying and sex were most definitely two different things.

Out loud Faith laughed at that comment, whilst inside she was burning. With such a mesh of emotions it challenged her; made her wander whether or not her body could take it all. She'd done alright so far, though.

Then came the part where she'd be scared, thinking Buffy may have sussed her out. She'd casually bring up getting in a good round of 'uhh' after a good round of 'uhh,' (a good round of sex after a good round of slaying), and naturally Buffy would try to talk about her 'non fat yoghurts.' It got Faith thinking if Buffy was the one who needed to be sussed out. Non fat yoghurts. Yeah. Right.

Either way, the conversation would end on a note of, 'I'm torn, I'm just gonna crash,' or 'Catch you tomorrow, we can spar before the day gets started, meet me at school,' and Faith would just agree.

Then the next morning would come, and Faith's brain would be yo-yoing, thinking of what could happen at training that day. Getting in a good spar with Buffy first thing in the morning always jolted her; made her get into that 'hungry and horny' attitude all over again. Pity Buffy couldn't stick around, she always thought, things could really heat up.

She recalled one moment when they had been sparring in Buffy's backyard where Xander and Willow had just been sitting talking about whatever, and Buffy had landed a kick in her chest which had sent the brunette flying backwards, but she had grabbed the blonde's arm and taken her with, down to the ground. She remembered that intense stare into one another's eyes, just for a prolonged moment, before Xander suggested a movie, and Buffy was quick to agree to that.

So back to last night. Buffy had asked Faith if it was alright for her to crash back at hers, and the brunette silently nodded, inwardly growing butterflies that would soon decide to permanently distract her for the next quarter of the day. It hadn't occurred to her that they'd be spending the next few hours together…sleeping. Just sleeping. Nothing more, though.

She thought then could be her chance. But then she slapped herself (mentally) for taking advantage of the fact that Buffy Anne Summers would be staying in her bed. It would be an experience to just have her there.

She remembered how she heard the older Slayer sigh out a moan as she slumped onto the bed, her entire body letting up to the comforter's powers of…comfort. Her back was turned as she was locking up the door, but she remembered how naturally her nerves were alerted and just for a moment all feeling rushed to that central part of her, that so often sorted her after a good round of slay.

She peeled her jacket from her body upon turning to see the older slayer laying spread across her bed. And yet the core of her awakened more. Her eyes closed, her body just…laying there, Faith could not bring herself to take her eyes away from the older Slayer.

She envisioned the blonde asking her to go to her. And even though she didn't say anything, she remembered climbing upon the bed beside her, forcing herself to look at objects adjacent to her fellow Slayer. Even as she slid off her shoes and pulled her shirt above her head, she fixed her eyes on objects other than Buffy.

Even when she could feel Buffy undressing also.

- - -

There was a prolonged moment of silence after my shirt hit the floor and I let my hair out of its ponytail. I pulled the strands of hair from the elastic material, feeling the bed shake a little, and then her breath on my shoulder, before she whispered, 'And your whole "I Sleep Naked" theory? Don't think I'll be joining you. At least…not tonight.' I looked over my shoulder at how she was stripped out of her shirt and now just in a pair of trousers and a bra, not to mention the shit-eating grin staring me in the face.

I chuckled a little as my hair fell around my shoulders. 'Well that's my only rule, B. Sleep naked, or don't sleep at all.' I got up from the bed and ambled towards my cabinet, pulling the rickety chest drawer towards me, and retrieving a t-shirt, pretty small but comfortable enough to sleep in. I grabbed another one and then pushed the drawer shut with my knee. I turned to her, to see her kneeling on my bed, resting her weight on her arms, her palms flat in front of her, her form seductive. Endearing. 'But seeing as you aren't up for the kinks…you're gonna have to settle for cotton vanilla,' I said, chucking the shirt her way.

She smiled upon catching it and swung her legs round in front of her. I watched her examine the shirt briefly before pulling it up over her head and then smoothing it down on her gorgeously slim body. She fell back onto the comforter and let out a loud yawn. 'Perfect,' she said. I assumed she was referring to the shirt.

'I dunno if it's just me, but aren't jeans a little too uncomfortable to sleep in?' I asked, chuckling a little as I pulled off my own leather pants then made my way over to the bed. I threw them to the side, then climbed a top her, pretending to be cool about it but really…hell I was quaking inside.

She looked up at me and smiled. 'Well in this position I can't remove them, what with, your legs straddling me an' all.' She smiled and I sighed out a laugh, then moved my hands down to the top button of her jeans, and popped it open, ever so slowly. Goood this was treatment. I looked at her and I think she may have been slightly astounded. I looked back down at her pants and moved down, as if I was getting away from her, instead, I let my teeth clench the zipper. I looked back up at her, to see her prop herself up on her elbows and look at me, jaw dropped, smirking. I smirked back, and pulled down the zipper, indeed with my teeth. I moved away and smiled. I grabbed the hem of her jeans and tugged on it slightly, and instinctively, her hips arched and I pulled them down over her hips, down further, revealing more and more gorgeous skin moment by moment.

I threw the jeans aside listening to the material screech against itself as it moved through the air, then reached the floor, then rolled over onto 'my' side of the bed and looked at the dirt beneath my nails. I noticed she was still watching me. I began cleaning my nails, making it priority to face her and visibly ignore her.

She rolled over, and looked at me. 'And what the hell was that? You do that to every house guest?'

I looked up at her and smirked. 'No. Just the ones who kick vamp-ass and pretend not to wanna get down and dirty…even if it is with a Slayer.' I grinned and cocked my head to the side.

Buffy scoffed and shook her head. 'You're unbelievable.' She climbed underneath the sheets, then she turned on me, pointing one of her pink-polished fingers at me. 'And don't even think about removing my panties with your teeth.'

I looked at her finger, then her face, then smiled and couldn't help but let my eyes travel over her body. 'I wasn't going to,' I told her, a shit-eating grin slapped right across my face. She playfully hit me on the arm and I chuckled.

'Let's sleep,' she told me, and I climbed under the sheets, and clicked off the side lamp. We both lay back and silence spirited in the room.

I could just put on this front, whenever I wanted, but she never knew this was how I actually felt about her. Seeing as she was my only patrolling partner, and I'd told her about getting inebriated on the adrenaline rush to the point of wanting to get 'down and dirty' it was common for her to see me post-slay. Naughty as I could have been, had almost been with her just then.

Sometimes I wonder if she honestly is as horny as I am after slaying. Buffy Anne Summers. Hungry and Horny. Down and Dirty? I don't think so.