Author notes: I really don't know how I feel about this… I don't think the end is very characteristic of Buffy… this is also probably the most violent Fuffy story I've ever written, sexually anyway. Takes place third season, around Enemies, pre Graduation Day.
She had her backed up against the mausoleum wall, pinning her back against the rough stone exterior as she forced her to scrape against it, dominating her with her slightly larger body. Gripping both her wrists tightly in one hand, fingers locked so harshly that bruises were rising even on Slayer flesh, she used her hips to push her even more roughly into the wall, allowing the smaller girl no room to run, no room to fight her off, escape her.
She would not escape her… Faith would make sure of it.
She ground her body against the little blonde's before her in a way that was almost dry-humping, as if she were using her body as an aid for her own sexual release, even through clothing. Still holding Buffy's wrists high over her head in one hand, almost hard enough to begin grinding the bones into each other, she forced her lips over the other girl's, forced her tongue into Buffy's mouth. Licking the roof of her mouth, Faith sucked Buffy's tongue roughly, biting her lower lip not-quite-gently to finish it off. The hand not holding her wrists had thrust itself under her shirt, and she pawed cruelly at Buffy's small breasts, squeezing, laughing with no humor when she felt her nipples harden automatically, even at such rough treatment.
Faith could feel Buffy struggling, attempting to twist out from under her, to pull away. She could hear her little squawking cries of protest as she strained against her, could hear how wildly her heart pounded in her chest, how loud and uneven her breathing had grown, could feel her shallow breaths against her face. She could feel Buffy shiver, heard her soft, stifled moan, even as her cheeks heated with fury and mortification of what Faith was doing to her- forcing her to submit to.
Laughing again, a sound too hoarse, too close to breaking to hold any true mirth, Faith kissed her again, a gesture that was me of an oral raping than anything resembling affection or love. Pulling her face away from Buffy's abruptly, she fumbled for the zipper of the older Slayer's pants, shifting her weight to press her even more securely back into the wall. Gasping, shouting at her without words, Buffy renewed her fierce struggle, but Faith was driven now, wild, determined, with her blind rage and frustration all rising
now to a head that came out in impulsive violence. She thrust her hand down Buffy's pants, sticking her fingers into her roughly.
This was something she had thought of countless times before… but never before, in her daydreams, had this been how it happened. There was nothing soft or sweet about this, nothing gentle or satisfying. Faith was trying to hurt her back, worse than Buffy had ever hurt her, to violate her worse than Faith had ever been violated… and yet, she wanted Buffy to like it, to force her to come for her as she never would on her own.
Buffy was still twisting her body wildly, still writhing in her hold, crying out shrilly… but Faith felt her muscles tighten and release, and her entire body went limp, no longer attempting to fight her. She closed her eyes, and now she was shaking, silent tears seeping from her eyes. Faith had finally broken her down… she had finally made her give in to her, to submit to her as more powerful, as… as an equal. Even a superior…
She should have felt triumph, the sweet rush of satisfaction; she should have felt an affirmation that all she had ever wanted to prove herself as was indeed true. She should have been sated… she should have been happy.
But she wasn't… instead, she felt empty. She felt nothing… nothing but a horrible, cold void of anything at all. A void that filled her so suddenly, so alarming, that it seemed to ache and throb in her chest, her torso, her throat, until it was no longer nothing, but rather an intense pain that almost stole her breath away.
Faith pulled away from Buffy roughly, releasing her so suddenly that Buffy's knees buckled, and she just barely managed to stay standing by grabbing onto the wall flat-palmed. Not looking back at her- unable to bring herself to look back at her, Faith began to run, her movements clumsy, stumbling. She was breathing more heavily than Buffy now, her head throbbing in rhythm with each step, and her heart galloped in her chest so wildly that she couldn't think. She could only concentrate on trying to move, trying to get away. Not just from Buffy, but also herself… herself, and what she had just done.
In less than two minutes she had gone not even fifty yards… and it was then that she stumbled, her legs giving out from under her, and she fell heavily onto her knees on the cemetery ground. It was unclear to anyone, even Faith, whether she had tripped, or simply collapsed of her own accord.
Whatever the case, whatever the reason, she did not try to get back up… instead, Faith remained half huddled, half crumpled on the ground, a headstone not six inches away from her head, having just missed striking her. She lay there as a violent shaking overtook her, and she began to cry. Harsh sobbing tore at her throat, heaving through her torso as tears blinded her, soaking rapidly into her clothes and the sides of her hair.
Faith could not be sure, later, how long she lay there, sobbing harder and more painfully than she had ever done in her life, than she had ever even witnessed. It could have been mere minutes… for her, it felt like days. She was aching, feeling with sudden vivid intensity the pain, the regret and anguish, the shame and self-hatred she had tried for so long and so hard to deny, to shove away from her, to inflict upon others rather than accept it as her own…
She felt it all now, and so she cried as though she were dying, and wished fervently that this were so.
Faith would never be able to say, would never know how long she lay there alone… but she did know that it did not, as she believed, last forever, however she might feel she deserved it. For eventually she sensed a figure coming up behind her, standing over her, and she knew without needing to see that it was Buffy.
Faith waited for her to make her move, to do to her what she deserved- or at least some retaliation approaching this, for short of killing her, there was nothing with which Buffy could retaliate that would equal what she had done. She waited for her deadly hiss, her hysterical screams, waited to be hit and kicked and punched… maybe then, she could feel a little better, as if she had gotten a small measure of what she should. Maybe..
But it had not happened… the angry words, the fierce blows of vengeance… they did not come. Instead, Buffy slowly sat beside her… and as Faith continued to sob roughly, shivering so hard her teeth chattered, she slid her arms around her, hugging her against her.
For a moment, Faith froze, unable to believe what was happening. As it sank into her that this was really happening, that Buffy was really there, really holding her- even after what she had done, even after
what she had done to her- Faith began to struggle, to try to pull away from her in a way reminiscent, whether subconscious or not, of Buffy's earlier struggle with her.
But as Buffy tightened her arms around her, gently but firmly, and Faith could feel the blonde' s chest still heaving, her voice breaking with her own tears, she slowly eased her straining, then gave up entirely. Still crying roughly, she went limp, as Buffy had before, allowing her to hold her, to comfort her… to forgive her. Buffy held her, her fingers trembling as she stroked back her hair, and entangled in each other's arms, she cried with her silently.
Neither really understood what was happening between them… but somehow it wasn't necessary. Sometimes, crucial sentiments can be expressed, trespasses forgiven, wrongs made somehow less, if not right or okay, with one unspoken gesture… and understanding is not always a requirement.