Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No profit made, no infringement intended.
Your skin crawls, thinking of how her hands possessed you. Sleeping with the enemy, cheating on a soul-cursed vampire with a murderous slayer. The Hellmouth clearly has a sense of humor.
Your mind replays your moment of weakness, and you hate that your body still wants her. You go to sleep fighting away images of her dark nails tracing down your body.
You're dreaming of her hands, still red with his blood, caressing your naked body, when you wake with a start. Your eyes search the dark room, as you slow your gasping breaths. What your eyes can't see, your mind gradually fills in. First you feel the slayer instincts, sharp and pounding. Then there's the fragrance that causes a lump in your throat, musk and cheap cherry lip gloss. At last, you finally can distinguish it in the darkness, her silhouette. Faith is perched on your windowsill, traced in moonlight.
"Faith," you growl, disoriented, angry, and surprised.
"Hi, B," she whispers, amused and self-assured. You sense a hint of sadness in her voice, but it may be just the fugue from sleep.
"You're in my room," you accuse. You use the most threatening voice you can muster when you've been awake a minute and you've all cosy in your yummy sushi pjs, but your phasing has the destructive force of a baby duckling. Faith laughs, enjoying having you at a disadvantage.
"I'm here a lot, B. Like to watch you sleep. Say, didn't someone else like to watch you sleep? Vamp called Angel, little grouchy without his soul? Guess we evil types just have a thing for you lying there all unconscious and defenceless. Too bad I didn't need an invite. Still, I got that moment of happiness didn't I B?" Faith finishes with a smirk.
"Are you going to make me get up and kick your ass? I'm all comfy here," you retort.
Faith slides off the windowsill, moving toward you. Your body tenses, preparing for the fight.
"What do you want to do, B? You want to hurt me?" Faith purrs, resting on the end of your bed. "You seemed to enjoy screwing me, B. Maybe you'd like to tie me up, tell me what a bad girl I am? What do you say? Interested in a little S&M?" Faith taunts, her fingers making their way up your sheets. "Of course I can fight back, B. Give as good you as you dish. But maybe that's what you like..."
"I think you've confusing the two of us," you reply with a laugh.
"Maybe," Faith shrugs. She inches up the bed until she's so close she's practically under the sheets with you. She grabs your ponytail, pulling your head back, your neck exposed as if she's decided to go all vamp on your ass and bite you. Red lips, hot breath, her eyes fixed on you. "Maybe not," she whispers with a smirk.
You're enraged, heart pounding, muscles tensed, ready to pounce. You're going to take her down, show her she's wrong about you.
Then she kisses you, tongue pushing in before you have a chance to pull away. For a moment you're lost in the way her lips burn against yours.
The cold air hits you before you realize she's gone, leaving only an open window as proof she was ever there.