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Hell Hath No Fury

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This story is No. 1 in the series "You Can't Live Forever". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: The women of Buffy are not to be trifled with. Warning: some sex and a lot of character deaths.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Multiple Pairings > Ficlet Collections - FFATDWidowFR1832,584033,3704 Nov 0915 Jan 10No

No Talking - Faith/Mohinder

What if Samuel's mistake was that he got to that hotel room too late?

I had noticed the Faith/Mohinder FFA pairing a few days ago, but it wasn’t until I watched this week’s episode (“Once Upon a Time in Texas” 11/2) that I got inspired for a story. Obviously, there are spoilers for up through that episode. Enjoy!

Also, I apologize for making Faith this way. It was the only way the story would work.

DISCLAIMER I own nothing from either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Heroes.


There was a wall clock ticking loudly somewhere in the hotel room and it was driving Faith crazy. She was sitting on the bed, one leg tucked up under her, nearly jumping out of her skin with pent-up energy. It had been a long time since anyone had sent her on a mission like this.

The room smelled musty, so she got up and dug out a candle from her bag. She lit it with her pocket lighter decorated with a sun – a present from Dawn to remember Sunnydale after it was gone. It looked pretty pathetic to have one single measly candle flickering by the threadbare armchair, but it was all that she had. Twitchy, she returned to the bed.

The door creaked open and she nearly jumped out of her skin. He came into the room cautiously and caught sight of her. “Faith?”

She nodded and stood up. “Hey.”

He closed the door behind him. “I’m Dr. Suresh.”

Damn, he was hot. Why did he have to be hot? That made everything a whole lot more complicated. Willing herself not to shake, she nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Mohinder put his satchel down on the table by the door and smiled hesitantly. “You too,” he said. “I must say, I was pleased to hear that the IWC would help with my research. I’ve hit a bit of a dead end.”

She barely suppressed a sigh. With him it was all about research. Well, she had done her research too and she knew all about him. Mohinder Suresh: born a normal human in India, travelled to New York City after the death of his father and, through a complicated and mostly boring turn of events, ended up injecting himself with a serum that gave him superpowers like the people he had been studying. Now he had come out of his power-induced craziness with super-strength and the desire to make up for all the terrible things that he did.

Sort of like Angel. Sort of like her.

“Yeah,” she finally said. “They’ll be a big help.”

Something inside her had changed since before she arrived in Sunnydale all those years ago – now, lying made her feel sick. Firmly, she pushed the feeling away. Buffy, Giles, the IWC – they’d done nothing for her. She didn’t owe them anything. And if she wanted to go and work for whatever group would pay her the highest, then she would. And damn it, she wouldn’t feel guilty about it!

He was still talking about his research. She walked over to him, stood as close as she could, and lay a finger on his lips. “No talking.”

“Huh?” he asked.

She gave him no chance to argue further, kissing him hard and sliding her hands up underneath his shirt and feeling the smooth, hard muscles beneath. Pulling away, she repeated, “No talking.”

Whatever had been holding him back snapped and he pushed her backward on the bed, pulling his shirt off over his head. Faith slid her hands down between them, wriggling out of her own leather pants as she unzipped his jeans and felt him hard and ready for her.

She had slept with a lot of men, some with some strange powers, but Mohinder was one of the best. It was hard and fast and hot – she was pretty sure someone was going to get billed for the broken headboard – and the seemingly shy and soft-spoken scientist was neither in bed. There were bite marks on her neck, bruises around her wrists where he had held her hands against the mattress, and a scratch down her shoulder where she had hit the bedside stand.

It was over quicker than she wanted it to be, but Faith could see that she wasn’t the only one slightly worse for wear. Mohinder’s lip was bloody where she’d bitten it and his breathing was heavy and ragged. She grinned and tossed his clothes at him. “Get dressed. Then we’ll talk about your research.”

He chuckled and suddenly the shy scientist was back. She dressed faster than he did, noticing a little late that they had knocked over the candle she had lit and a small fire was burning on the carpet near the foot of the bed. Oh well. That would be the least of someone’s worries.

When he pulled the shirt back over his head and turned around, he drew in a startled breath. “What are you doing?” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not from the IWC.”

“No,” she said and for a moment felt true regret. “I work for someone who wants you dead.” Then she pulled the trigger of the gun in her hand, emptying the clip in his chest.

He lay unmoving on the floor, the orangey glow from the tiny fire mixing with the sickly yellow of the lamplight. Faith choked back the bile in her throat, grabbed her leather coat, stowed the gun in the waistband of her jeans and ran out the door.

There was a man standing in the hallway, dressed like he was straight out of a Wild West carnival. He glanced at her, hurried past her and stopped just inside the doorway. “I’m sorry,” Faith heard him say as she left. “I’m so sorry.”

She was, too.
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