"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"
Chapter One
- The Path to Hell -

A/N: I don't own squat, save for the plot.

Got a new plot bunny that would NOT let up on me. Damn it all. I have too many stories to start another one.

This is going to be QUITE a mature and 'realistic' story. There will not be any descriptions of intimate contact, but will be half of an adventure story and a romance novel. It wont be 'bodice ripper' cheesy, but it will definitely start out with some 'did that actually happen?' moments. Faith is definitely in her element here.

HP – Starts at Night of the DoM, Dumbles just told Harry the Prophecy.

FaithverseComplete AU. The Initiative is early.

Time Trivia –

Harry was born July 31, 1980
Faith was born Dec. 14, 1980

Hermione was born Sept. 19, 1979
Tara was born on Oct. 16, 1980

Date at the start of this fic:
June 18, 1996 – The Night of the DoM.

Major Differences

1) Buffy did not receive CPR because a certain someone wasn't as quick on their feet. Kendra took over and lasted longer than a year with Angel's help. Spike, Darla, and Drusilla were all dusted by Kendra, who didn't compromise. She took care of the Mayor before he turned into a giant snake, but was later killed by Kakistos. She and her watcher died horribly.

2) Faith was called from Boston. Her first and only watcher is Wesley, still tweedified. Kakistos was dealt with in a rather unconventional manner, which will be touched on in the story.

3) The Watcher's Council is a division of the ICW. Like the DoM, the Council is self supported and answers only to itself.

4) As per the Angelverse, Wesley is a minor wizard. Here, he attended Hogwarts and was three years behind the Marauders in Ravenclaw. He was recruited into the Council by his father after graduation. Since the Council dealt more with Demons and the Muggle world, Wesley is one up on most of the rest of the purebloods in fitting in, but still has a twig up his backside over the rules. Rupert graduated when the Marauders were in their second year.

5) Faith doesn't have a crew (yet). It's just her and 'Bow-Tie' in the beginning. She got her GED after a disastrous attempt at 'Hellmouth High'.

6) Willow and Xander moved away from Sunnydale after Buffy's death. Both sets of parents realized that after the deaths of two of their best friends, that the Sunnyhell wasn't all that constructive to living. Even though the Rosenbergs don't really hang about at home, they agreed with their daughter to relocate to the same town as Xander for her emotional well being. They currently live in Colorado Springs, in an apparent supernatural dead zone. Willow's brilliance has been flagged by the Air Force as a potential recruit. Xander just wants to be wherever Willow is. They never met Oz.

7) Glory was in the Buffyverse, so no Dawn here. One Key only, and it isn't here.

Main Characters & Pairings

Big Bads:
Adam & Initiative, Voldedore & Dumblemort

Kennedy, Ron, Ginny, Molly

4:32am Hogwarts – Headmaster's Office

Dumbledore was worried. After showing Harry his memory of the prophecy, there was little to no reaction for at least five minutes. He filled the silence with his reasoning for placing Harry with the Dursleys, apologizing for the hardship he knew Harry would go through. He was tempted to use a compulsion to get the boy to talk, but there was an increased presence of magic that was becoming oppressive. Finally, he spoke. However, the tone of his voice alarmed him.

"How long?" Harry asked quietly and coolly, not looking up from staring at his knees.

Dumbledore blinked. "How long what, my boy?"

"How long have you known?" Harry clarified, then continued before he got an answer. "I asked you in my first year why Riddle seemed so fascinated with my life, and yet you wouldn't tell me for fear of my childhood. So I ask again, Headmaster, how long have you known?"

"The prophesy was given before you were born," Dumbledore said with a frown. This wasn't going like he thought it would.

Harry nodded, still looking at his knees. "I'm going to hazard a guess that Neville was a possibility as well."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, "you were born only five minutes apart. But until Voldemort decided, it could have been either of you."

"And that was what the Order was guarding all year?" Harry asked, his voice still low and flat. His insides were as cold as his temper was burning at this point, and it reflected in his voice.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. One of the shiny knick knacks on the shelf close to the door pinged, drawing his attention. Seeing which one caused him to pale slightly. The boy was supposed to be crying or having some other form of breakdown at this point. He never foresaw the rage that was building in front of him. "Harry…" he paused and paled further as he looked back to see the expression of outright hatred Harry was glaring at him now.

"You bastard," Harry hissed. "Sirius would still be alive if you told me what was in there. But no, you had to stay away and avoided me whenever I needed to talk to you; hoarding knowledge like a miser; keeping everything in your little web of lies proceeding at a certain pace until your weapon was ready."

"Harry…" Dumbledore slowly stood from his desk and had his hand ready to grab his wand. The wandless compulsions to calm him were washing around the boy's aura. If things were going where he thought they were headed, he'd need to obliviate the past hour.

"NO!" Harry roared as he stood and slammed his fists on the desk. Several silvered baubles that were monitoring and tracking him exploded behind him as the desk cracked. "You don't get to talk now. It's my turn!"

Sitting quickly, Dumbledore kept his hand close to his wand. Maybe venting would be better for now.

"You say you knew how the Dursleys would treat me and sent me there anyway. Well, congratulations Headmaster. I now know you for what you are. You condone whippings, beatings, starvation and traumatic mental abuse. And, that's just talking about the ten years I endured my family's loving embrace," he snarled with as much sarcasm as he ever spoke before.

"And here," he continued, turning slowly in a circle with his arms out, "in your palace of power, you condone abusive teachers, encourage racism and foul language, while punishing those that try to stand up for themselves; pontificating over the value of forgiveness and turning the other cheek. Well, wake up Headmaster. Turning the other cheek gets that one just as cursed as the first one!"

Turning quickly, he glared at Fawks while his voice rose in volume. "How in the name of Merlin can you stand being around him? Your presence condones his actions as being for the LIGHT!" he ended with a shout.

When the phoenix bowed his head with a mournful sound of shame, he returned his scowl back to the Headmaster. "Did turning the other cheek win for you with Grindewald? Is that it? Did you hug and kiss the man before you walked him to his death? Or, is he in some prison somewhere, while you hope and pray that he repents his evil ways?"

The twinkle was long gone from Dumbledore's eyes, and his face twisted into a mirror of Harry's. "You go too far," he whispered.

"FUCK YOU!" he shot back with a shout that echoed with magic. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Hands balled into fists, Harry bent slightly and howled his rage over this betrayal. His magic swirled around him in a miasma of chaos.

Completely alarmed at what was happening, Dumbledore pulled his wand and prepared to obliviate the past hour. Before he could get the spell off, however, there was a loud crack of thunder that deafened him.

Shaking his head to clear his ears, Dumbledore stood and looked about. Harry wasn't in the room – the warded and locked room. "What?"

"You pushed him too far, Albus," Dippet's painting scolded. There was a murmur from the others that agreed with him from their now askew portraits. "I'm not sure how he did it, but he apparated out of the castle."

"What?" Dumbledore said a bit louder. "That's impossible! I'm the only one who can apparate within the wards!"

Silent on the shelf, the sorting hat smirked. For the first time since he was created, he found it difficult to not laugh outright as Hogwarts herself put the anti-apparition wards back up.

9:58pm – Sunnydale – Pine Cemetery

A fledgling vampire exploded into dust in front of the Slayer. She was getting beyond frustrated from the soldier boys taking out most of her 'physical therapy'. Oh she appreciated the help, but it was becoming a nightmare of not having anything to fight lately.

She couldn't even get anything out of Willy on what the military was up to. His bar had been boarded up a month ago, from a lack of customers.

In short, the lull of excitement was annoying Faith's inner slayer, and she was half tempted to let the army have the place and move to Cleveland. Even though its hellmouth was tiny in comparison, there should be things to do, vamps to stake, malls to rob… er… shop.

Her earpiece crackled with Wesley's tinny voice. He explained how he was able to scramble them with magic, but all she had got out of it was 'magic in, magic out, soldiers hear kids playing with their radios'.

"How's the lay of the land, Faith?" Wesley asked.

She rolled her eyes at how he talked. "Five by Five, Bow-Tie. The new scanner thing you hooked into the radio is doing it's job."

"So, you're able to avoid America's Finest?"

She cringed as she hopped out of the cemetery and headed back home. "Don't do that. Every time you try to sound like us, you come off a dork. That phrase was for cops, which are redundantly retarded in this town. If you meant the army boys, then yeah. Skipping 'round them just fine."

"I'm proud of you, Faith. You used redundant in a complete sentence."

She scowled at his small victory. "Bite me, Watcher-man."

"Never in a million years. I know where you've been."

That got a snort out of her. "Oh! Good one! See? Told you I could teach you someth–" Faith froze as every nerve ending started shouting !danger! at her.


Crouching next to a tree after she scoped the branches, she held a finger over the earpiece and looked around rapidly. "Somethin's wrong," she whispered. "Not hellmouthy. Reminds me of that port-thingy you used to get us to L.A. last year."


"Yeah, and the feeling's getting worse. I can almost tell where it'll end up."

"Where are you?"

"Woods between Pine Cemetery and Oak Drive."

"Stay down and keep low. If aurors show up, remember the I.D. I gave you. I'm on my way."

Watching the spot her senses were screaming at her about, a person appeared with the sound of lightning crashing.

"That was no portkey. I felt that from here. Faith? Are you all right?"

"Five by five," she whispered. "It's a guy, and he looks a bit trashed. Oh, and he's cute too."


Stepping out from behind the tree, she looked the guy over. His hair was a complete mess, and he looked to have been in one hell of a fight. Clothes were shoddy and ripped, too. He was facing her, but she could tell he didn't see her at all, what with how he was blinking in a daze. "Hey man, you okay?"

The guy seemed to focus on her, and boy were his eyes green. "Yeah, that hurt," he wheezed with a grunt. Blinking a bit more, he fell backwards like his strings were cut.

"Crap." She shot forward and was just able to keep the guy's head from hitting a rock. "B.T.? I think this is one of yours. He just fainted after saying he hurt himself or something." Pausing, she blinked. "Damn, you're cute."

"Don't move him! Is he all there?"

"Looks like it?"

"Not missing fingers, toes or ears?"

She looked him over again. "Well, he's got on a pair of crappy shoes that I'm not touching, but it looks like he's all here. Why?"

"Portkeys don't make noise like that. Apparition does. With how loud it was, he could've splinched himself."


"Splinch. Splinching means leaving behind a body part."

"Ouch. No. He's all here," she said, looking him over again.

There was a small crack that startled her. "Splinching is easily remedied," Wesley said from about twenty feet away from her. He came over and looked down. "Now, what about you, my good fellow? Oh, you're young to be apparating."

"Hey!" Faith complained. "He looks my age!"

"I stand by my statement," Wesley said dryly. Kneeling down, he saw that Faith still had her left hand behind the boy's head. Thinking that was sweet, but not voicing it since she was too close, he brushed the lad's hair back to get a better look at him. "Oh, bloody hell."

Blinking, Faith gaped at him. "You swore!"

"I think I have every right to," he replied as he began searching him. Finding his wand, he pocketed it in his jacket and helped Faith sit him up. "This young man saved Great Britain when he was a toddler in '81. Can you carry him back to the house?"

"Yeah," Faith said, before she dead-lifted him. "What'd he do, throw a dirty diaper at a demon?"

Chuckling, Wesley looked about as they walked to the house. "Something like that, I'm sure. No one really knows what happened, except that the dark wizard died that night. He killed his parents, then tried to kill him. Speculations abound as to why the killing curse reflected back on him."

"That the one that looks green?" Faith asked as she hopped over a dead log.

Wesley nodded as he stepped over the same log. "Precisely."

"So, what's his name? Think he has a girlfriend?"

"Harry Potter. Behave," he chided.

"What?" she countered. "I've only had half my H's covered in months, and he's too damned cute to believe."

He gave her a dry look as he opened the back door. "You'd break him."

She grinned as she passed through the door. "What a way to go though, yeah?"

"Just put him on the couch and try not to molest him, shall we?" he groused with a pained expression.

This was too good. She got him whining way too soon. "Oh, come onnnn," she half growled in her 'sexy voice' as she laid the boy on the couch. "Can't I just feel what I'll be missing?"

Seeing her rub the boy's thigh while she was smirking at him, Wesley had enough. "Oh, good lord. I give up. Stop it."

Standing up straight, she bounced as she threw her hands up. "I win!"

"And just for that, you get to put the kettle on," he deadpanned. "Now, twaddle off while I run some diagnostics on him."

"I never understood that word," Faith said as she headed to the kitchen. "Trippin' while you waddle like a duck?" her voice faded as the kitchen door swung closed.

"And put water in it this time!" he shouted after her.

Faith came back into the living room with the kettle and a few packets of different teas. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, she perched herself next to it and watched as Wesley flipped his wand about. To the left of him floated a piece of parchment and a quill that was writing. It was what she called his 'invisible secretary'.

Strange designs glowed above Harry's body. She recognized a few runes, but couldn't remember what they meant. "Which tea ya want? How's he doin'?"

"He's suffering from magical exhaustion. Darjeeling, please," Wesley said in his distracted voice. "What I don't understand, is why all of this is showing up," he waved his left hand at a group of symbols. "His bone density is below normal, and he appears to have been in several altercations that haven't healed properly."

Frowning at that, Faith looked at Harry's face. Wesley must have removed his glasses, and he was even cuter without them. "So he's a fighter?"

"That would be a reasonable assumption," Wesley said with a nod, "but the nature of most of the injuries indicate systematic abuse. The scarring on his back is quite profound."

Faith's face blanked as that implication sunk in. "Thought you said his parents were dead," she said warily, anger creeping into her voice.

"Yes, but that wouldn't preclude whomever was charged with raising him," he countered. He heard her quietly growl at that statement, but became heavily distracted. "Oh, good lord."


Wesley turned wide eyes to her briefly, then looked back at the miasma of coloured lines. "This here," he pointed, "refers to the venom of a basilisk, which is immediately followed by the tears of a phoenix."

"Phoenix's a flaming bird, yeah?" Faith guessed. "What's a ba-silly?"

"A basilisk is the deadliest snake known," Wesley said in a hush. "One drop of its venom can kill a man in under five minutes, and this is saying his system was flooded with it."

"O-kay," she said slowly. "How's he still alive?"

"The phoenix tears, I imagine. They are the most potent essence of healing, and would be a good counter." He paused to glance at the medi-quill, and saw that it was still scribbling on a now three foot bit of parchment. Looking back to the symbols, he pointed again. "I don't understand this bit at all, and it seems to have been there for most of his life. Most probably, it started the night the dark lord was defeated."

Faith shrugged. "Well, I can't read it. So, what's it say?"

Sighing, Wesley felt horrible for the boy. "It says that there is a concentration of dark magic embedded in that scar on his forehead." Frowning, he scratched his temple. "I need to call a specialist. That can't be good for him."

There was a beat of silence, before Faith's impatience won. "Well, who?"

Startled out of his musings, Wesley looked at her. "Hmm? Oh. Wo Pang."

Faith blinked and looked at him with large eyes. "The guy that popped Angel's soul back in? Harry's not soulless!" she protested. He was too gorgeous to be a psychotic killer. "Is he?"

"What? No. Of course not," Wesley shook his head. "But, this rune here indicates that the magic involved deals with the soul. And quite frankly, I'm not one to mess with such a delicate thing. If his is infected in some way, I'm not the one to go messing about. I could do more harm than good."

Faith stood and moved to look down at Harry's head at the end of the couch. "I don't trust him. He wanted too much."

"True," Wesley nodded. "However, that was the more extreme of what he usually does for a living. I would think it takes a great deal of power to summon a soul from the beyond." Pausing, he looked down and almost grinned at how Faith was running her fingers through Harry's hair. "Wo Pang's usual rituals involve cleansing and purification, not cursing vampires. Remember, it took the entire Gypsy clan to curse Angelus the first time."

"So, what will Pang want?" Faith asked, not noticing her fingers playing with the black mop of hair.

"At best, access to a tome of some sort." He shrugged. "At worst, a favour."

There was a lull in the conversation. The diagnostic ended, and the quill flew over to rest on the desk, while the parchment rolled itself and floated in front of Wesley.

Taking the scroll out of the air, he had to ask. "If you don't mind the observation, I do believe this is the first time I've witnessed you behaving as such. Your 'want, take, have' mantra seems to have vanished this evening. Would you mind telling me why?"

Caught out, Faith's eyes widened. She thought about brushing him off, but then she looked down at Harry. The look of pain on his face tore at her. "You know how I was when you found me," she whispered. "I look at him and see me. You told me it wasn't my fault that my folks were pricks. Took a while, but I believe you now. I don't think he's had anyone in his corner, and I want to be."

A smile of pride, Wesley nodded and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Don't expect his acceptance too quickly. If anything, he will most likely be mistrustful for a while. Now do me a favour and step back a moment. I need to dispel some harmful spells that are still on the lad."

Faith wiped her face, then stood back and crossed her arms. "What kind of spells? Anything dangerous?"

"Remember our discussion on mind magic, and the lesser form of the compulsion?" He got a nod as he unrolled the scroll. Finding what he was looking for, he verified what he saw earlier. "While a compulsion spell will cause a certain behaviour, like that one ward around the house that tells people they've left the stove on, what Harry has would be considered a compulsion web."

Seeing her confusion, he continued. "A compulsion spell directs one action. A compulsion web can direct several. Done correctly, a person can have their victim behaving exactly like they want, like a marionette."

Eyes wide at what he said, Faith was horrified. Anything that controlled her was meant to die. "That sounds worse than that imperial curse you told me about. Can you get it off?"

"Imperius," he corrected automatically, "and I hope so, depending on whomever did it. Luckily, I have some pepper up already made. This may take a while, and I'm not that strong of a wizard."

"I'll get it," Faith said as she ran to the basement.

Poppy Pomphrey frowned as she watched her two wards. Mr. Longbottom, Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood were easily taken care of and sent to bed. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger on the other hand, had terrible things happen to them. That dark cutting curse took a bit out of her to heal on the young lady, and the mental trauma on her least favourite patient was almost beyond her capabilities.

She thought back to what she found in Miss Granger's system and frowned deeper. Even though it was easily countered, she didn't like the implications. It was highly doubtful that Mr. Weasley could have brewed that potion, so he had help from someone.

That it was a mastery level potion left only a few suspects. Professor Snape's educational oath would normally preclude such a thing. However, Mrs. Weasley was a budding potions mistress, before she became pregnant with William. That her youngest son was so self entitled and an educational embarrassment implicated his mother even more. Having the most brilliant witch under his thrall would help him tremendously.

Then, there was the confession that Miss Granger gave her in her third year. No, this would not stand. It wouldn't stand at all.

Normally, she would have the patients close together, so she would not have to run around so much. However, finding amorentia keyed to the Weasley boy in Miss Granger's system caused her to do something she never would have considered before: Defy the Headmaster.

Wand out, she levitated Mr. Weasley to the end of the row, closest to the door. Getting him settled, she turned and did the same to Miss Granger… to the opposite end and closest to her office. Conjuring medical screens around Miss Granger's new bed, she warded the area against anyone but herself and her patient. No sense in risking someone slipping the girl more of that foul potion.

Pulling a self inking quill and a bit of parchment, Poppy wrote a small note of instructions for Hermione to find if she woke up, and placed it in her hand. That done, she set the monitoring charm to tell her when the girl woke, and moved over to her other patient.

Looking down at the ginger Gryffindor, Poppy walled her disgust behind her oaths of office. The creature that latched itself on the boy's head violated his mind. Without knowing what the beast was, she could only stabilize him. She shook her head as she remembered what the others told her what happened to him.

"Accio brains," she scoffed in a whisper.

Snape entered the Headmaster's office to find it in a state of complete disarray. Albus' desk had two impressions splintered into it, several of the bookshelves were askew with their books strewn about, and many shelves were shattered. And, which was most unsettling, the devices that monitored and tracked Potter were in tiny fragments.

Turning with wide eyes, he saw the Headmaster pacing in a circle. "Albus, what has happened? Are you all right?"

"He found it," Albus grumbled. "I didn't believe it possible, Severus, but he found it."

Stepping over next to the mantle of the fireplace, Snape crossed his arms and stood back, as there was no furniture that survived whatever happened. "Who found what, Headmaster?"

Still pacing, Albus was shaking his head back and forth. "The power he knows not. Harry found it."

Looking about the room, Snape saw the evidence, but couldn't believe what that implied. "Potter hasn't even reached his age of majority yet, Albus. How could he have found anything?"

"I pushed him," Dumbledore said with a grimace. "I pushed him too hard this time." Coming to a stop, he grunted his frustration. "I told him the prophesy. He should have broken down in tears. Instead, he now blames me for Sirius' death."

Looking at Snape, there was pain in his eyes. "He even said that I approve of child abuse!"

"Don't you?" Snape asked with a tilt of the head. "I told you what Petunia was like, and her husband is ten times worse. However, you saw fit to send him there over my objections," he drawled.

"I never would have believed that they would whip and starve him!" Albus shouted. "This is an unmitigated disaster!"

"I am only here due to the vow you forced me into," Snape said quietly with a harsh glare. "I've done your bidding, and let you abuse the child of my closest friend. Were I capable, I would kill you myself and then commit suicide for the atrocities you forced me to commit. I am disgusted with what you've done – both to me, Lily and Harry."

The Headmaster paused to eye his potion master with a glint of steel. "You agreed, Severus."

"Much to my sufferance and shame," Snape said with a nod. "Now, if there's nothing more, I would like to retire before the sun rises." With that, he turned and left the office, fuming.

One hour and two pepper ups later, Wesley was sweating. Whomever did this knew what they were doing. The last thread snapped, and he stumbled backwards with a bit of a moan.

"Whoa!" Faith jumped up and caught him before he fell over. "You okay? Did it work?"

Wesley nodded weakly. "I believe so," he whispered. "I need to lay down for a while and recharge."

"No more potions?" Faith asked.

He shook his head. "I took two in an hour, and that's not good for me. If I take another, it would most likely cause an overdose."

"Okay, yeah. O.D. bad," Faith commented as she led him up the stairs. "Do you need me to do anything while you sleep?"

They were in Wesley's room at this point, and he stumbled into a sitting position on the bed. "Just put Mr. Potter in the guest room. I doubt he'll wake up before I do. Magical exhaustion usually takes days to recover from."

"What about you? You look like complete crap."

He shook his head as he kicked his shoes off. "This is Magical Fatigue. Not quite as profound as exhaustion, and easier to recover from. I should be better by noon at the earliest."

"All right," she nodded. "I'll take care of things. You just get some sleep, okay? You did good, Watcher-man."

Wesley gave a half chuckle as he put his glasses on the side table. "Thank you."

"Shout if you need anything," Faith said as she closed the door.

Coming back down to the living room, Faith was a mix of emotions as she watched Harry sleep. Mind control, abuse… it was all cutting too close to home. Biting her lip, she snatched his glasses and lifted him up.

Wesley was right. Even though she could lift a small car, Faith could tell that Harry didn't weigh enough. Taking him up the stairs, she kicked the door to the guest room open and went to rest him on the bed.

Eyeing the dried blood on his face, she left and quickly returned with a first aid kit. He may only be magically exhausted, but that didn't mean she couldn't clean him up a bit.

Looking him over, she frowned. "Okay, those shoes have got to go." She slipped them off of his feet with a look of disgust and tossed them aside. Stifling a snicker at the mismatched socks, she noticed that they were hand made. She removed them as well, and folded them to set on top of the dresser. They were too nice to toss.

Getting his jacket off was problematic. Even though he was comparatively light, dead weight was always a hassle to move around. She finally managed it, and hung it up on a hook that was on the closet door. "We have got to get you some new threads, eye-candy. These are falling off o'ya."

Smirking to herself, she undid Harry's trousers and slipped them off. "Boxer man, huh?" she commented with a grin. The grin turned into a frown when she saw that they were pinned to make them fit. "That's just not right."

Sighing at what she was seeing, she shook her head and fetched the bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls from the kit. She couldn't help but study his face as she cleaned the blood away. His eyes were slightly sunken, which could have been part of that exhausted thing. And he was so pale. "Don't get out in the sun much, do ya Harry?"

Now that most of the blood was cleared off, she realized that he was grimy from whatever fight he'd been in. Smirking again, she left and came back with a pot of water, soap, and a wash cloth.

Doing this without perving on him was a nightmare. His abs were to die for. But, she managed to clean off most of what she found without a lot of trouble.

Thinking while biting her lip, she eyed those boxers. "Fuck it." Unpinning them, she slipped them off and barely held off her whistle of admiration. She rolled him to the side again and wiped down his ass, biting her lip the entire time. Turning him to his back again, she swallowed thickly as her inner slayer was most appreciative.

Cleaning off his front as gently and slowly as she could, she grinned at the initial physical reaction. Then her eyebrows went up when it was done moving. "Damn. I'm tempted to take you right now, Harry. That's something to be proud of."

Looking up at his face, she saw that his grimace of pain was gone. Sighing, she fondled him bare handed. "Oh wake up. This is no fun when you're out cold," she whined.

Grumbling a growl, she pouted for a bit, before bending down to kiss the crown of that wonderful appendage. "We're so getting to know each other later," she breathed at it, grinning as it twitched.

Shaking herself. She stood abruptly and left the room again. Rummaging through Wesley's dresser, she frowned at his style of underclothes. "You are such a dork," she commented. Grabbing a pair, a white tee, and blue pyjama bottoms, she walked quickly back to the guest room.

"Damn," she breathed huskily. "You're still…" She shook herself again. "I'm so having a piece of that," she whispered. "Wake up dammit," she hissed. "I'm not raping you."

Sighing when he didn't, she set about covering him back up. He was thinner than Wesley, but at least these were clean and fit better than what he had. Once he was covered up, she gave him one last peek and licked her lips. Looking around rapidly, she bent down and sucked him into her mouth, groaning with a sigh.

Realizing what she was doing, she stopped after a minute and quickly got him under the covers. She kissed that weird scar on his forehead and walked out of the room. "I need a shower," she muttered.

Later, after she 'took care' of her little problem in the confines of running water, she looked into the room and saw that Harry hadn't moved at all. Frowning, she left again and put on a night shirt and a pair of panties. Nabbing her robe, she padded back into the room and shut the door.

"I know this is a mistake, but I don't care," she announced. Setting her robe over a chair, she slid under the covers and curled up next to Harry. She moved his arm up and rested her head on his shoulder. "My god, you smell awesome," she said under her breath. A yawn overcame her, and she put an arm and a leg over him.

Faith fell asleep while rubbing his other shoulder. Unknown to her, a soft smile crossed Harry's face while he was out. His arm moved slowly till it cradled her, and his head rolled to the side she was laid against.