The following is for all chapters, since I don’t want to repeat this:
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of their original owners.
Setting: AU after “Chosen” covering three years after that, with flashbacks during that time.
Rating: Due to mostly language (well, it does include Faith) and situations (ditto Faith). No actual headboard-thumping action (honest!).
Her point of view:
She opened her eyes and felt the remains of the hangover leave her at the moment of her waking. *Let’s hear it for Slayer powers*, she thought lazily. Her face did change into a frown, as she tried to remember exactly where she was and what had happened, with no answers right at hand at this moment to both questions. *Musta gotten really hammered.* Not feeling like moving in the bed right now, the woman remained on her side and keeping her head still, looked beyond the bed at what she could see.
*Not that much. Cabinet at side of bed with lamp and clock, 8:43, window curtains have sunlight behind them, so it’s morning. Usual striped wallpaper and some kind of cheap landscape painting on the wall. Could be any of the thousand motel rooms I’ve been in.*
Breathing. Not hers. The woman was suddenly aware of a presence behind her sharing her bed. This presence suddenly announced itself to the world: “Ohhhhhhhh.”
The woman grinned. *Who’s doin’ that is male and sounds like I should be feelin’, so he was with me last night.* She made a quick review of how her lower body felt, with mild surprise at no sensation of having a good time in the recent past. *Wonder if him or me passed out first?*
The bed shook as the other presence moved, and the woman felt something bump against her bare ass. She had enough experience to tell it was another person’s ass covered by the sheets, and she also possessed the exact sense of humor to stifle giggles at the sudden frozen cessation of the guy’s movements which meant he had just realized he was sharing the bed with someone else.
*Considerin’ how much booze I had last night, he might be a male version of coyote ugly, where a guy wakes up after a bender sharin’ his bed with a helluva ugly woman sleepin’ with her head on his arm so that rather than risk wakin’ her up, he chews off his own arm with his teeth to escape. Fuck it. I’m feelin’ horny, so let’s see what happens. ‘Sides, if he’s really that bad, I can always put the pillow over his face.*
The woman pushed her ass back to bump into the unknown male’s rump and gave her behind a wiggle, at the same time uttering a very sexy, “Mmmmmmmmm.”
His point of view:
The man, who a moment ago had been sleeping on his side, opened one eye, blearily gazing at the motel room’s wall for a second until the hangover descended. It was a good example of the results of excessive alcohol consumption, almost up to Woody Allen’s classic definition of “unable to leave your room because your head won’t fit through the door.”
The man announced to an uncaring universe: “Ohhhhhhhh.”
After a few moments of wondering if life was really worth it, the man resigned himself to continued existence and tried to think of something to distract himself from his skull collapsing at every heartbeat. To his moderate astonishment, he did come up with two conundrums: *Where the hell am I and what did I do last night?*
The man painfully stretched out on the bed until his gluteus maximus bumped into something. He froze as he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in the room or in the bed. *Shit. I’m gonna die. Hey, the way my head feels, that might be a good thing.*
After a few seconds, the man felt something rub against his ass, and the sound of someone saying with pleasure, “Mmmmmmmmm.”
*Ooooookay. Who did that is human and female, and with possible kindly intentions. Still not completely reassuring, considering my past life.*
The man waited in dread for fangs, claws, tentacles, mandibles, and other life-ending appendages to sink into his tender flesh.
Her point of view:
*Christ, ain’t the guy gonna believe his luck and do somethin’?*
His point of view:
*Isn’t she gonna get it over with?*
Her point of view:
*Fuck this. Let’s see who it is.*
His point of view:
*Stop being such a coward and see who it is.*
Simultaneously, the woman and the man turned over in the bed to face each other.
From a distance of six inches, Faith Lehane and Xander Harris stared each other in the eyes. Well. Her eyes. He had just one eye, with an eyepatch covering his missing left eye.
This came from Xander, as he kicked out in panic to lunge away from Faith. Unfortunately, he used too much force and shot off the bed, going over the side still wrapped in the bedsheets to crash down on the floor of the motel room.
“Christ, Harris, you sure know how to show a girl a good time,” smirked Faith.
“Shut up, Faith,” snarled Xander as he fought his way out of the bedsheets entangled around him. As soon as his upper body was free, he clutched his head and tried to keep the top of his skull from bouncing into the air. His hangover had not been improved by his recent actions. Xander glowered at Faith, opening his mouth to properly vent his feelings, but instead he snapped shut his mouth and twisted his neck with a jerk to avert his gaze.
On the bed, Faith calmly looked down at her nude body, totally exposed when Xander had taken the bedsheets with him. “What, you gonna turn into a pillar of salt? It’s not like you haven’t seen this before.”
“Once,” came the muffled sounds of Xander settling on his back on top of the bedsheets on the floor, looking up at the ceiling which was thankfully free of naked female flesh. “And I bet this time you won’t open the motel door when you throw me outside.” There came no response to this from the woman on the bed.
Faith had on her face at this moment a very rare expression; mingled shame and regret. *Christ, it’s been ‘most a decade, and he’s still down ‘bout it.* It was true Xander had forgiven her for her actions back then: her frantic taking of his virginity that had been the next thing to rape, and then the teenage boy being physically expelled in his underwear from the crappy motel room she had been living in at the time. Forgiven, maybe, but not forgotten. Faith swallowed, recalling her sick feeling years ago as she had slammed the motel door in Xander’s disillusioned face. It was back again, that feeling…..and she had been doing so well!
“Xander, I’m….,” began Faith, only to be interrupted by an agonized howl of disbelief coming from beyond the bed. Xander’s body popped back up in a sudden sit-up, his left arm extended and the fingers on that hand splayed, as if he was trying to signal something to stop. Faith blinked at this, and then her gaze shifted beyond to whatever he was gesturing at. There was nothing there but the motel wall.
Xander had a wild look in his remaining eye as he stared at Faith. She got the feeling that this time he wasn’t bothered by her naked body, as he croaked out, “Faith, your hand….”
Faith lifted up her right hand and stared at it, then looked back at Xander. “Uh, five fingers there. Should there be anythin’ else?”
“Your left hand!”
This time she looked at that hand. Five fingers there too, and….one….gold….ring.
Faith snapped her head to the left to vision-zoom onto Xander’s upheld left hand. There was a gold ring on his ring finger, too.
Eventually, both people in the motel room ran out of invectives. It did take a while, though.
Faith stared blankly at the ceiling, still on her back on the bed. Next to the bed, Xander was still sitting on the floor while leaning over to rest his face on top of the bed by its edge. He was still wearing the bedsheets around his lower body. Faith glanced over there, her mouth open to make a comment, and then she sensibly shut it and looked around for any possible distraction. Her attention was caught by the table in the motel suite, where there was a sheet of paper on the top of the otherwise bare table.
Faith stirred, swinging her legs off the bed and getting up to walk towards the table. Xander didn’t move the slightest, until he heard her shriek of rage. His head jerked up to stare at a furious Faith holding a sheet of paper in one hand while with her other hand, she was shaking her clenched fist at the entire universe. Her tense nude body facing Xander showed everything in its glory: her flawless limbs, the quivering perfect breasts, the gentle roll of her stomach leading down to her….
*Do NOT think of that. She looks like she wants to decapitate the whole world.*
The woman’s infuriated gaze fell onto the lowly worm in her vision. “GET OVER HERE, XANDER! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”
Unwillingly, Xander started to get up, and then he paused to peek under his bedsheets. “Uh, Faith, I don’t have any clothes on.”
There was a pause, and then from where Faith was standing, a female voice said with the most exquisite sarcasm, “Oh, my heavens, an unclad male is in my chambers.” Xander looked up to see Faith posing dramatically, with the back of her right hand held up horizontally against her forehead. The woman continued in the same tone of voice and in the same pose, “I do declare, I shall have an attack of the vapors.” Her hand came down and Faith glared at Xander before screaming, “LIKE I GIVE A FUCK! GET YOUR SKINNY ASS HERE BEFORE I COME OVER THERE TO DRAG IT BY ANYTHING I CAN GRAB!”
A glint entered Xander’s remaining eye. Perhaps Faith should have remembered that the man was suffering from a world-class hangover.
Or that he had problems with authority his entire life.
Most importantly, for more than a decade, Xander Harris had been in the presence of females who had the physical, mystical and sheer bitchiness capability of kicking his ass so high bluebirds could nest in it, and they had not ever been shy of expressing their desire to accomplish this, usually at the top of their lungs. It had happened so often that Xander had started keeping a list and he found out this occurred on an average of every twenty-three days. Over nearly eleven years.
Considering this, his reaction to a dark Slayer’s tantrum was understandable. The man came to his feet in a smooth ripple of muscle, all of it very much in evidence as the bed sheets he had been wearing dropped to the floor. The totally naked man now stalked over to Faith and held out his hand for the paper she was holding.
Instead of handing the paper over, Faith slapped it against Xander’s chest, and took a step back as he grabbed for the paper, her face grim as she folded her arms across her chest.
It took just reading the words “Weddings Forever! Inc.” on the paper for Xander to start cursing in Swahili. Various dialects, including ancient Greek and Maasai, followed the man’s comprehension of a fully-itemized bill for a wedding ceremony that included such things as “flowers from romantic gardens of the world”, “celestial choir”, and “wedding certificate deposited in the Las Vegas Hall of Records.” Xander’s foul language trailed off into a pitiful whimper as the man came to the grand total numbering five figures, followed by the words of doom: “PAID IN FULL.”
Throughout it all, Faith remained silent, standing motionless with the same forbidding expression and folded arms. The woman was evidently waiting until the right moment for the kill and the disposal of the remains.
It was a total lie.
Faith’s face was frozen from trying to keep the look of absolute lust off her face, and her folded arms were hiding the fact that her nipples were so hard they were making dents in her skin.
At this moment, Faith wanted nothing more in the world than to drag Xander to the bed and explore every inch of his body with her tongue.