My Goddess

Slayers don't blush.

Or they damn well shouldn't, anyway.

And yet here I am, cheeks flushed, and it's all because of the woman that just walked in the door. The other Slayers In Training and I just got back from patrol about five minutes ago. I was busy putting my weapons away when she walked in. Or perhaps 'strutted' is a more appropriate term. She doesn't just 'walk' anywhere. There's always a pronounced swing of her hips, an extra bounce in her step. She exudes sex and confidence, and that goddess of a Slayer held my gaze for a split second before heading to the kitchen.

Which is why I'm now blushing like a school-girl.

All the other S.I.T.'s like to talk behind her back about her promiscuity and other bad habits. She's a slut, or so they say. She drinks too much and gets too caught up in her work. She's a loose cannon, one that Buffy had to put out of comission once. She's totally unpredictable.

And I find her utterly irrisistable.

I hurriedly put my stakes in the weapons locker before walking quickly after her. I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans before shoving them into my pockets, trying to look casual. I find her sitting on the countertop, a Hot Pocket in her hand. I give a small smile and open the fridge, pretending to take stock of its contents.

"Hey, Eve. How'd the patrol go?"

I can hear my heart hammering in my ears. Not only is she speaking to me, but she knows my name. I try to keep the enormous grin off of my face and grab a can of Coke. I close the fridge and lean against the counter across from her. I'm hoping to God that I look relaxed and not like the eager overly-enamoured female that I actually am. "Not bad. How was your night?"

Faith rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her Hot Pocket before ranting.

"As happy as I am that B's plan worked and we aren't the only slayers anymore, I really don't like the baby-sitting bull. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wanna help you guys out. I really do. But my place isn't in the classroom, you know? I should be out there, fighting the good fight. Instead I'm supposed to go out on patrol and teach the newbies. It's a total waste of my time."

I feel the eager smile slip from my face at her tirade. I suddenly feel like an unwanted guest and a pest, and, like she so aptly put, a complete waste of her time. "I'm sorry," I apologize. "I didn't realize you were so miserable here."

"Aw, hell. C'mon Evey. I didn't mean you."

I look up quickly to find her rubbing her neck and looking embarassed. I offer her a slight smile. I say 'slight' because right now, I couldn't muster a full and sincere one if I wanted to. It sucks when the person you're crushing on basically tells you that they hate having to put up with you.

"Sure you did," I argue. I see her open her lovely mouth to contradict me and I quickly cut her off. "I know that it's nothing against me personally. But from what I hear, you don't like to be cooped up indoors. It's completely understandable. I'm not offended." Okay, I completely lied about the last part, but I don't want her to feel bad.

Faith eyes me for a moment before grinning widely. "So, you heard I don't like to be an indoor-kitten, huh?" I feel my eyes grow large and wonder why in the nine hells she's looking at me like a cat would look at a canary. "Uh, y-yeah," I stammer, my heart hammering away in my chest again.

She slides off of the counter and saunters, yes, saunters toward me. There's a gleam in her eyes, and that sexy swing is back in her hips. She stops right in front of me, and I notice that she's an inch taller than I am. And also that she smells of cinnomen. It's lovely and alluring and...oh Lord, my mouth is actually watering. "Uh..." I try to formulate a word, or even a coherent thought, but I can feel the heat radiating from her body, and I think it's impossible.

"What else have you heard about me?" she asks. I look into her eyes, such a beautiful shade of brown, and then find my gaze slipping down to her lips, full and red. I find myself wondering if her lip-gloss is flavored. And what would her lips taste like without any makeup at all?

Faith asked you a question, idiot! Answer her!

"I...I heard that...um..." I'm choking on every word that finds it way into my mouth. Faith is completely aware of her affect on me. I can tell because not only does she lean in closer, but she puts her hands on either side of them and puts her weight on them, holding herself barely an inch away from me. Oh God, her face is so close. Her everything is so close. "Yeah?" she prompts, urging me to answer.

"I heard that you're unpredictable. And wild, and...um...that you used to..." I babble. Faith's face is so close that I swear her lips grazed mine for half a second. "I used to what?" she asks, and I notice that she's looking at my mouth.

"Someone said you used to have a thing for Buffy."

We both freeze and I curse every single cell in my body for what just slipped out of my mouth. Of all the things I could've said, why in the hell did I choose that? I look up into her eyes and notice that not only is that gleam gone, but they're now cold and closed off. Angry, even. I can feel the regret and shame written all over my face and want so badly to either turn back time, or run and hide. Either option would be glorious right now.

"Faith, I'm sor--"

She's across the kitchen in a heartbeat, and I feel the lack of heat immediately. I push myself away from the counter, wanting so badly to drop to my knees and apologize profusely. I can feel the litany of 'I'm sorry's on the tip of my tongue, but Faith senses it and laughs bitterly. "I don't know who your sources are, but they're way off base, shorty. The only 'thing' I ever had for B was bloodlust, which only recently became respect. I'm not into fluff," she says, and looks at me as though to put me in that category, too. I feel my heart clench with hurt and I know she can see it.

"Later, newbie," she says, and then she's gone. I feel the newbie remark like a slap in the face. I know that she just lumped me in with the group she had said that I wasn't a part of earlier; that I'm now one of the girls that are a waste of her time. I lean against the counter again, feeling deflated and miserable.

"Fucking brilliant, Eve," I mutter to myself.

An hour later I'm in my bedroom, the one that I share with another Trainee, Olivia. I've been lying on my bed, going over every bit of the conversation with Faith in my mind. And every time I come to my fuck-up, I feel like a complete idiot all over again. How could I be so stupid? Faith was full-on flirting with me, and I had to be an idiot!

"Eve?"

I look to the door and see it open. Olivia steps inside the room and turns on the light, temporarily blinding me. She's frowning and looks concerned. Shit.

"Are you going to just lay here in the dark all night? It's still early."

Is it? I look at the clock to see it read 9:38P.M. Oh. It is.

"Um...yes?"

Olivia crosses her arms over her chest before walking over to my closet and sliding open the door. I sit up on my bed, feeling uneasy at the sight of her rummaging through my clothes. "What are you doing?" I ask. She tosses me a pair of black jeans and a dark blue shirt. It's a tank-top, low-cut and tight. I had bought it as a joke.

"Once again, I must ask, what are you doing?"

Olivia walks over to her own closet and begins perusing for an outfit to wear. "Well, it's early. And I don't know about you, but I have some excess energy to work off. Jack is out of town, so, I'm thinking we try Southtown," she explains. We were told before that sometimes, after patrol, we'd have excess adrenaline to work off. Some of the girls used their significant others (and trust me, listening to the sexcapades of a dorm full of girls can get a bit annoying when you have none of your own to tell), or some dance it off. Since Olivia's boyfriend is out of town visiting his parents, she wants to opt for the latter.

I pick at the fabric of the shirt disdainfully. "I don't know if I feel like dancing," I mutter. Olivia's answer is delivered so quickly that I wonder if she was expecting me to fight her. "Faith is going," she says.

I look up quickly, eyes wide. "Really?" I ask. She nods, choosing a short dress and a pair of knee-high boots. Jack would throw a fit if he knew she was going to go clubbing dressed like that.

"Yup. And since I know you love dancing, and she loves dancing, and you're going to be looking irresistable in that little number, I figure you two could work off your energy on the dancefloor together," she says in a rush. I look at the outfit she chose for me and try to imagine it; dancing with Faith Lehane. I've seen her dance before, and it's really a sight to see. She moves with utter abandon.

"I really don't think she'd want to dance with me tonight. I'm not her type," I say, and remember the end of our conversation again. Olivia snorts from her closet. "Since when did she have a type?" she mocks. I feel indignation on Faith's part and start to argue when Olivia beats me to it. "Besides, what could it hurt? If she doesn't wanna dance with you, then there are plenty of other people who will."

I look up again to see that she's changed into her short red dress and is zipping up her boots. "Now, get dressed, woman," she commands with a smile. It must be contagious because I can feel myself smiling, too. "Yes ma'am," I say.

I'm regretting this immensely.

The jeans are a bit low on my hips, and the shirt rides up high and is cut low enough to make me want a sweat-shirt. Olivia insisted on dressing me up from head-to-toe. My black hair, short to begin with, is now choppy and a bit messy. She made my eyes smokey and my lips are covered with clear gloss. She believes I look hot. I believe that I look slutty and I feel really, really uncomfortable, and tell her as much.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Oh God, Eve, get over it. Listen, we're slayers. We're hot chicks with super-powers. Get used to it," she scolds. I try to take her advice as we walk into the club.

It's packed. The dancefloor is full of bodies pressed against one another, grinding, with colored lights dancing on them. I can feel the bass in my bones as the techno and rock blast through the speakers. Olivia leads me to the bar where she orders us both shots of Petrone. I happen to hate tequila. She knows this, but insists that I do the shot anyway. "To loosen up!" she explains before we both do them.

It burns all the way down, but she's right. I do feel a bit of my anxiety slip away. She orders another round and I feel a protest start to rise in my throat before I silence it. I had a crappy day. I'm not one to get drunk, but what could a few drinks hurt? With slayer metabolism I'll probably only get a buzz at best. Tipsy at worst, right?

A few shots later, the dancefloor is starting to look very appealing. Olivia was right; I do feel my body burning with the excess adrenaline. Dancing was probably a great idea. It's better than fucking some stranger, or, even more pathetically, myself. Olivia makes me do one more shot, and then drags me to the dance floor. We weave our way through the bodies and make our way to the center.

It's like being caught in a violent rip-tide. I can feel the energy rolling off of the people around us in waves, soaking through my skin and into my blood. I close my eyes as the music washes over me and get lost in it. When I open my eyes, my arms are above my head, one of Olivia's hands in my own, and we're cutting loose like never before.

Our bodies are moving in a way that can only be termed as utterly erotic. Our hips are rolling, our chests heaving, bodies twisting and undulating to the beat. It feels incredible. I try to focus on what I'm dancing to. It sounds like a remix of Linkin Park and Paramore. I've heard Olivia listen to it before but never really paid much attention to it.

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone.
Just the one two of us were counting on.

That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.
Let's be more than this.

I watch Olivia throw her head back and notice the way her skin glistens in the colored lights. I'm about to tug her closer to me when I notice someone behind her. Faith is grinding against a guy--a frat boy, it looks like--but she's eyeing me regardless. It's hard to read her. Partly because I'm fairly intoxicated, and also because she's hard to read in general. She twists so that she's facing me, and I see the man's arm wrapped around her waist as he grinds against her ass.

I feel a flash of anger, and hurt, but push it away. I'm here to enjoy myself, not get caught up in before. I tug Olivia closer to me, so that we're flush against one another, and close my eyes. I lose myself in the feel of her soft body against mine. She wraps an arm around my neck and nudges a leg in-between my own, grinding against my hip. I reach down and lift her leg onto my hip before rolling my hips against hers.

I am a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard.A handful of complaints, but I can't help the fact that everyone can see these scars.
I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel.
But it's like no matter what I do, I can't convince you to just believe this is real.

I open my eyes to find Faith staring at me. I turn Olivia and I so that I'm facing away from Faith, but I can feel her eyes burning into my back. Oh well. She didn't want to accept my apology, or even hear it. Hell, I doubt she even knew I existed until today. Why would she care if my roommate and I were getting hot and heavy on the dancefloor?

So I let go, watching you
Turn your back like you always away and pretend that I'm not,
But I'll be here 'cause you're all that I've got.

I feel Olivia's hands wander lower and grab my ass. I arch into her and feel her breathing heavily in against my neck. I wrap my arm around her and hold her against me tightly as we both get lost in whatever is happening between us at the moment. In the back of my mind I know that she's my good friend, and that she's involved with someone, but the rest of me doesn't care. She insisted on 'dancing off the energy' and the tequila. Hell, maybe she planned this for all I know. And I don't really care. I just care about the fact that her fingers are tugging on my hair so that I look at her beautiful eyes are half-lidded, her lips pouty. She's drunk, there's no doubt about that. "Kiss me," she says, and laughs loudly. I want to. God, I want to. But my conscience forbids it. I can't take advantage of her when she's drunk. Instead, I kiss her forehead and spin her away from me before pulling her in close again. She shrieks with delight and I feel relieved. For a second I thought she'd be mad at me. We turn so that I'm facing Faith again. The other slayer looks amused, and that gleam is back in her eyes. I feel angry, watching her watching me. What gives her the right?

I can't faint the way I did before.
Don't turn your back on me.
I won't be ignored.
Time won't change this damage anymore.
Don't turn your back on me.
I won't be ignored.

I watch as she turns in the guy's arms so that she's facing him, and she pulls his face close to hers. I feel my stomach churn and want to look away, but I can't. Just as they're about to kiss, she pulls away and throws both of her hands in the air above her. The guy looks absolutely enthralled with her as she twists and rocks in front of him.

I see her shirt ride up and notice the beginning of a scar on her abdomen. I feel a hint of concern, but thankfully, inebriated anger, hurt, and jealousy chase that annoying emotion away. Why should I care if she was ever hurt? She's a bitch, plain and simple. Everything everyone ever said about her was right. Besides, for the last time, I'm here with my friend. I see Olivia notice Faith and a smile spreads across her face.

If you wanna play it like a game,
Then come on, come on, let's play.
'Cause I'd rather waste my life pretending than have to forget you for one whole minute.
They taped over your mouth, scribbled out the truth with their lies,
Your little spies.

Olivia rubs herself against me and winks at Faith as she does it. What the hell is she doing? I see a mixture of annoyance and amusement grace the other slayer's features. I try to pull Olivia further into the crowd, away from Faith, but the girl won't let me. Why does she have to be so difficult?

"Remember our mission?" Olivia slurs into my ear. I shake my head in protest, but she wraps her arms around my neck again. "C'mon Eve, fuckin' grow a pair," she growls before shoving me backwards.

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone.
Just the one two of us were counting on.
That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.
Let's be more than this now!

I grunt as the body behind me stops me and turn to see that it's Faith. I swallow an apology and stare for a moment, frozen with fear and surprise and totally unsure of what to do. She takes the lead by grabbing my hips and pulling me against her to dance.

I lost all coherent thoughts at that moment. All I know is that Faith is dancing with me. Faith Lehane is dancing with me. I wrap an arm around her neck as I quickly find the rhythm and fall into it with her. Her body is incredibly firm, yet soft. I can feel the power rolling off of her. She feels so incredibly raw. I know that even though I have the blood of the slayer in me, she can easily take me in a fight, and not just because I'm ga-ga for her. And yet, even knowing that she can snap me like a twig, she holds me to her in a way that's firm, but gentle.

Who would've thought that grinding against Faith in a nightclub would be the time that I've felt most safe in my whole life? And yet, it's true. I feel so safe at that moment. I feel invincible. I raise my free hand above my head before letting it fall to her hip. I can feel the muscles underneath her soft skin and feel myself become more aroused than I was before, if that's possible.

No, hear me out now!
(Rock and roll, honey, don't you know that)
You're gonna listen to me, like it or not, right now!
(We're all alone now, I need something to sing about.)

I feel Faith's hand trail down my back, then up my side and to my hand. My skin is on fire where she touches me. As cliche as it sounds, it's true. She takes my hand off of her hip and into her own and grips it tightly.

We both move apart from each other, hands raised, and absolutely let go. There is nothing better than this. I can't imagine a single thing more intense than this moment.

Rock and roll honey, don't you know that
We're all alone now, I need something to sing about.

I feel a sudden need come over me, and my face flushes. I don't know if it's the intensity of the moment, or the tequila, or sexual frustration, whatever, but I need her. I need to feel her like I've never needed anything else in my life. As if she senses it, she opens her eyes, those dark, obsidian eyes, and seems to recognize the look on my face.

Rock and roll honey, don't you know that
(I won't be ignored!)
We're all alone now, give me something to sing about!

She reaches out, grabs the back of my head, and crushes her lips against mine, and I know in that moment that I'm lost to this woman.

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone.
(I can't faint the way I did before.)
Just the one two of us was counting on.
(Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored.)
That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.
(Time won't change this damage anymore.)
Let's be more than...
(Don't turn your back on me)
More than this.
(I won't be ignored!)

To Be Continued.

Song is "CrushCrushFaint" by Unforgetable Sound