This Is How It Goes

"Buffy!" Faith yelled, and ran over to her, crouching down beside her. She put her hand on Buffy's arm, her eyes searching for visible injuries.

"You okay?" Faith asked, brow creased in concern.

Buffy, about to answer, looked down at where Faith's warm hand met her skin. Faith looked down as well, their gaze resting for a moment on the point of contact. Their heads rose simultaneously to look in each others' wide, dark eyes, and it was all over. Self-restraint crumbled as quickly as the vampires had.

Buffy grabbed the front of Faith's shirt and yanked the other Slayer on top of her, crashing their lips together and maneuvering Faith's body between her legs. Hands scrambled frantically, tongues sliding forcefully, and moans sounded in tandem as Faith rolled her hips forward in a glorious, friction-filled move.

Buffy could vaguely feel the grass flattened beneath her back as her and Faiths' hips met again urgently, deep groans echoing. Buffy, surprising herself as much as Faith, suddenly and adroitly rolled over and reversed their positions. She barely broke their rhythm as she ground her own hips forward and found the other Slayer's legs wrapped tightly around hers, hands pressed against her ass and shuddering gasps echoing in both of their bodies. Buffy grasped the end of Faith's shirt and lifted it up, sliding her hands along and cupping Faith's breasts roughly, feeling the weight, the softness of them in her palms. Faith arched her back and let out a deep, shaking moan that traveled straight to the rhythmic pounding between Buffy's legs.

Buffy had a sudden urge to feel as much of Faith's skin as humanly possible, and was only reminded of their less than private location by the soft breeze now brushing across her back. Self-control my ass, she thought, frustrated and disappointed. Two emotions which became rapidly subsumed under the overwhelming desire to make Faith happy and writhing, as Buffy heard the other Slayer's uneven gasps and breathing next to her ear.

Buffy moved her hand from exploring the interesting territory of Faith's chest down to open the buttons of Faith's ridiculously complicated leather pants. After an embarrassing several seconds, during which Faith might have rolled her eyes and smirked, Buffy slipped her hand under the lacy (lacy?) fabric of Faith's underwear and slid her fingers into the searing warmth she was searching for.

For being unequivocally straight the majority of her life, Buffy found it odd how much she enjoyed this. It wasn't as if being with Angel had been unsatisfying or unpleasant, or in any way suggesting that Buffy would in the future cross into slightly less phallic territory, but this, what she had with Faith, seemed to reach a new level of intensity. Angel had been about gentleness, tenderness, veneration, but Faith occupied a space of need, of naked hunger and blatant carnality.

As Buffy's fingers slid into that heat, that flowing vulnerability, she marveled at how natural it felt. How ludicrously good it felt when Faith bucked her hips, latched onto various reachable parts of Buffy's body and released her breath in an unsteady groan. Buffy inwardly wondered at the effortlessness and simplicity of the situation, and outwardly let her hands and mouth convey the message.

She trailed her lips and teeth over Faith's neck, feeling the other Slayer's rough breathing and thumping pulse, while beginning to move her fingers rhythmically, urgently in and out. Buffy understood that sometimes, what she and Faith had was the complete opposite of gentleness. It was blunt and coarse, and sometimes that was exactly what they both needed. Faith's hips were rocking with the fierce motions of Buffy's hand, her legs shaking, her entire body thrumming.

"Jesus, B," Faith gasped weakly, and Buffy sucked on her earlobe in response.

Faith arched her back, her hands clutching at Buffy's arms and shoulders, and bit her lip hard as a groan rose deep in her throat. Buffy felt it coming, was nearly there with her, and began to thrust deeper, harder, her palm hitting her clit each time, as Faith clenched around her fingers and went rigid. She came almost silently, back arched, eyes shut tightly, legs wrapped around Buffy's body, face contorted with the sensations tearing through her, mouth open slightly, and Buffy wanted it to last forever because she looked so painfully beautiful.

Faith shuddered a little in its aftermath, slumped on the ground, hands still limply holding onto Buffy's body. Buffy felt their furious heart beats slow down together, her chest pressed against Faith's, as they lay on the slightly damp grass. Something was progressing in her chest and stomach, something tight and wrenching and exquisite, as she continued to look at Faith. This girl, who was on occasion violent, confusing, infuriating, pathologically insecure and arrogant at the same time, and all Buffy could feel was an agonizing tenderness and ... love? Was she in love with her? Crap.

"I guess that answers that question," Faith said in a deep, husky voice, opening her eyes lazily. Buffy felt a rush of irrational fear. What question? Could Faith suddenly read minds? That would be ... problematic.

"Whether you're okay or not," Faith supplied. Buffy smiled, exhaled. She felt that familiar tightening in her stomach looking at her.

"It does seem like my injuries aren't that serious. What with the energetic rolling on the ground," Buffy said, her voice shaking slightly.

Faith was looking back at her with an expression that Buffy couldn't identify. Still hopelessly tangled on the ground together, Faith opened her mouth to say something, and then flicked her eyes away and closed it again. Buffy sighed and began to push herself up, feeling Faith's legs fall back down. She grasped Faith's hand and pulled her up, and they stood inches apart, Buffy still searching the other Slayer's face for that unknown emotion.

Buffy suddenly wrapped her arms around the brunette, held her tightly, inhaled those familiar scents that were Faith, and fell a little further. She released her and stepped back after several moments.

"What was that for?" Faith asked, brow slightly furrowed but smiling.

Buffy shrugged. "Figured I should slip as much sentimental crap in as possible when you aren't expecting it."

Faith stared blankly at her for a couple of seconds and then began smirking. "Good call, princess. 'Cause that shit just isn't gonna fly when I'm my naturally observant self."

Buffy snorted. And then jumped a little as she realized something. "Shit, Faith! That vamp said something about the Mayor doing major spells tonight!"

Faith's eyes widened guiltily. "Oh, yeah. Whoops." She quickly buttoned and zipped her pants back up.

Buffy grabbed her arm and began moving swiftly towards city hall. "Let's pretend we didn't just sacrifice the entire town's well-being for our rampant hormones. And hope Giles never finds out."

~ — ~ — ~

The two Slayers reached city hall in an impressively short time, possibly due to their frantic sprinting. Buffy kept replaying images in her head of the town as a lifeless pile of rubble, and her and Faith attempting to explain to everyone why they weren't there to stop it. She kept hearing Faith shrugging, awkwardly saying, "Whoops?" and Giles' voice yelling incredulously, "You were doing what?!" Buffy ran a little faster, cringing every time she thought of this.

City hall was dark and rather ominous. Neither of them could see any lights, but that just meant that the Mayor was deep inside, conducting whatever illicit activities behind closed windows. Buffy and Faith crept around, going straight for the side door they had entered through before. Faith kneeled down, accessing her lock-picking abilities again, and Buffy stood, alert for any trouble.

"We're in," Faith whispered after a couple of minutes, and she grasped the doorknob cautiously. The door swung open noiselessly and the two Slayers moved forward, eyes scanning the area.

Faith's head snapped around before they could fully enter, her mouth open to cry a warning, and Buffy suddenly felt an object collide brutally with her head. She collapsed, her head whirling and dizzy, and fought to remain conscious. She heard Faith yelling her name frantically, heard the sounds of violent struggling, but they were muffled and distant. Buffy opened her eyes blearily to see the bottom of a shoe flying towards her face, and then didn't see anything after that.

Chapter 16: Loyalty

Author's Notes:

Buffy woke up and immediately felt a jolt of sharp pain. She touched the side of her head gingerly and groaned. Who needs Slayer senses when I can tell if there's a vampire around simply by being knocked unconscious? Buffy thought bitterly. And then she realized where she was. Which was ... where exactly? She looked around warily, her stomach lurching unpleasantly and her head throbbing, and saw nothing familiar.

She was lying on the ground of a room which looked like it hadn't experienced cleanliness for a good 30 years, with crumbling plaster on the walls, dust and debris three inches thick, and a lone light bulb swinging morosely from the ceiling. Faith, she thought suddenly. She looked anxiously around again, not really expecting to see anything different, and knew that the other Slayer was somewhere distinctly not here. If something happens to her, she thought heatedly, but didn't want to finish that painful train of thought.

Buffy rose clumsily to her feet, still clutching her head, and began walking towards the door. She tried the doorknob, found it unlocked, and stopped. That's a tad unusual, she thought. The bulb was swinging slightly, throwing random shafts of light into corners and then receding. Buffy felt a shiver of fear, but took a deep breath and opened the door into a dimly lit hallway. Was this the Mayor's doing? Why would he put me in an unlocked room in a deserted house? Buffy thought, and had absolutely no answers.

Except the word "deserted" probably wasn't appropriate, Buffy mused as she stepped tentatively out into the hallway and heard chuckling and creaks that echoed hollowly around the house. She felt her heart begin to pound furiously, a rush of fear and adrenaline coursing through her.

"Okay, creepiness definitely reaching bad horror movie levels," she whispered, but forced herself to take deep, measured breaths. She was the Slayer, she could handle this. A stake would be nice, though. Or a machine gun.

Buffy stepped forward, her entire body tensed. She walked down the hallway, passing several other doors and saw a stairway ahead of her. She reached the first step and there was another echoing string of deep, amused chuckles that made Buffy's hair stand up. She continued down another couple of steps and the laughter sounded again, except this time it was crisp and clearly behind her. Buffy whirled around and saw a figure, obscured by shadow, at the top of the steps.

"So, you the one behind all the sinister giggles? You should know that laughter, while being the best medicine, isn't really an effective weapon," Buffy said, her voice loud to hide her fear.

The figure didn't respond, and Buffy walked back up the steps towards it, fists clenched. The figure moved suddenly, so quickly that Buffy only had time to blink before he reached the step above her, wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed.

Buffy could see by the dim light that it was a vampire. He sighed, saying in a deep, amused voice that sent shivers up Buffy's spine, "You know, I was going to let you wander around a little, see the beautiful mess I've made downstairs, but I just can't help myself." He began licking a dark, red substance off the fingers of his other hand. "Self-control was never my strong suit."

She felt his fingers close tighter, felt her air flow cut off, and let loose with a hard right hook. He grabbed her fist before it made contact, squeezing brutally and causing Buffy to gasp with pain and shock. She couldn't move. He was so strong, and her arms felt as if they had become jelly. Buffy struggled futilely for several moments, feeling both of his hands grip tighter, and realized with a horrifying jolt that something was terribly wrong with her. She had no strength. No Slayer power. She couldn't fight him. She was going to die, helpless, weak, and alone in some abandoned house.

No, she thought suddenly. I'm not dying here. A resilient determination spread through her, the knowledge that she wouldn't, couldn't die here, not like this. Buffy grit her teeth and kneed him as hard as she possibly could in the groin. He grunted, released her throat and hand, and she spun around and ran down the stairs, grabbing wildly at the banister. She reached the bottom and looked around frantically, searching for an escape, a door. Buffy began sprinting, feeling her heart almost pounding through her chest, towards a door to her right. She yanked it open, rushed inside, and slammed it shut, pressing her back against it and taking deep, gulping breaths. And then she froze as she saw what was inside it.

It was a kitchen, at some time or another. Now there were blood spatters, stains, long streaks running all over it. A body, or the remains of a body, lay on the table. Buffy felt bile rise in her throat as she saw the gashes covering it, the gaping wounds and rearranged anatomy. She clamped down fiercely on her nausea and looked around for objects she could move in front of the door. And then realized that being a normal teenage girl was going to make moving refrigerators difficult. She grabbed the top of a chair, trying to ignore how her hand grew slick with the blood on it, and propped it against the doorknob.

The door abruptly shuddered, something heavy slamming against it. The vampire was chuckling darkly again, and Buffy felt a sharp rush of anger and fear. If this really was it, she was taking this bastard with her. She grabbed a large knife from the counter and felt its comforting heft, and stood in front of the door and waited, as the door shuddered again and the hinges began splintering. Her mind was oddly clear, free of whirling uncertainties. Her body, even if it had lost its strength, remembered the moves, the cold tightening.

The noise and movement stopped. The door stood, ominous in its silence. Buffy listened, heard nothing, and moved forward tentatively. Her fear was returning with the growing unpredictability. She removed the chair and grasped the doorknob, her hand almost steady. Her very normal senses felt unused, dull. Buffy couldn't hear or sense anything as she stepped out onto creaking wooden floors, the dust muffling her footsteps.

She looked around, breathing heavily and feeling something in her stomach trembling at the deafening silence, and saw the front door. Buffy ran over to it, grabbed the handle, and whimpered as it stuck. She pulled at it frantically, and then whirled around as she heard something behind her.