Title: Because the Night
Rating: R (hard R, for sexual situations, and Faith's vocabulary)
Genre: Crossover with L.J. Smith's "Vampire Diaries" series
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own these characters. Faith and Co. belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Damon Salvatore belongs to L.J. Smith.
Distribution: List Archives, The Voice Inside, all others, please ask.
Author's Notes: Timing for Faith? Sometime after she gets out of prison. For Damon, shortly after the events in "Dark Reunion." For those of you who haven't read The Vampire Diaries, go and buy them now. They're wonderful!
Thanks to: Jinni, who asked us to come up with new story categories - thanks for the plot bunny.
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
-- 10,000 Maniacs, "Because the Night"
Damon Salvatore was bored.
Was this what his life had come to? Sitting in a smoky dance club, night after night, looking for a bella young lady to take back to his apartment for a quick bite? After all, one look in his eyes and she would only remember what he wanted her to.
The advantages of being a vampire.
He'd been sitting here for hours, considering and dismissing dozens of the girls who populated this 'in' Los Angeles night spot. Once he'd had a different woman in his bed every night. Each one had left satisfied, never knowing that she'd paid for her night of bliss with a bit of her blood. He'd drunk in their energy, sustaining himself on their passion, drinking in the emotion as he drank the salty nectar from their veins. But now? Giggling sorority girls and blushing ingénues no longer seemed to be his type.
And it was all his damned brother's fault. Stefan had come to Fell's Church, fallen in love with the fair Elena - and neither of their lives would ever be the same again.
Once he'd fancied himself to be in love with Elena. Drawn to her brightness, the warmth of her love, he'd tried to steal her from his brother. But true love couldn't be denied; she and Stefan were destined to be together, forever.
So he was alone. Oh, they'd asked him to stay, welcomed into their circle of friends. But he wasn't like them; he didn't fit in. He didn't have 'friends,' certainly not silly humans who were nothing but liabilities. He was cold, cruel, unfeeling - and that was the way he liked it. Love was a fallacy, a useless emotion that brought nothing but pain.
And he wasn't into pain. At least, not that kind of pain, he thought with a smile, remembering a memorable encounter with a woman in leather.
Time to leave. Surely, somewhere out there in the vast reaches of the City of Angels was one woman who could hold his attention. He reached for his jacket.
Then she walked in.
Faith felt the pounding beat of the music as she entered the smoky club. The whole room vibrated with the bass, echoing the excitement of the crowd. She nodded her head to the beat as she headed over to the bar.
She scanned the room as the bartender made her drink. Aah, California. Everyone here seemed to be blonde, built, and tan. B would fit right in. Not her. Tall, pale, with her long dark hair cascading in waves down her shoulders, she was different.
Might make it easier to pick up guys. After all, she wasn't looking for Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right now. Mr. Do-me-right-now.
Free at last, free at last, and all that shit. She was finally out of prison, and after spending all that with nothing but women, she wanted a man. Naked. Beneath her. Or on top of her. Either one would do her just fine.
She paid the bartender, gulping back half her drink, relishing the burning sensation of the alcohol running down her throat. Time to grab one of these overgrown Ken dolls away from his prissy girlfriend and have a little fun.
Then she saw him. Sitting alone in one corner of the bar. Oh yeah. This was more like it. Black leather pants clung to his powerful things, black silk shirt loosely draping his broad shoulders. No ostentatious wanna-look-like-a-pimp jewelry, which was definitely of the good. His face was all angles, his mouth firm and kissable, and his eyes...she could sink into their chocolatey depths for days. She wanted him. This was one fine...vampire?
Damn. He was a vampire. Her slayer senses easily picked up on that fact. Though, he didn't feel like any of the other vamps she'd ever met. Maybe her hormones were in a twist because she hadn't gotten any for so long... He was hella sexy, after all, even if he was the undead.
And he was heading her way. She smiled. She could always take him for a ride before she staked him.
He smiled as he noticed her appreciative gaze. Now, that was a woman who would never be boring. Tall, dark, and dangerous, she was the antithesis of most of the California girls here.
Like him, she was dressed in head-to-toe black, her tight leather pants clinging to her hips while her spaghetti-strap tank top showed off her ample cleavage.
This was what he had been waiting for. *She* was who he'd been waiting for.
But something was off. She was staring at him predatorily, and for the first time since he'd faced Klaus down in a fight for his life, Damon felt a shiver of fear racing up his spine. She didn't just look dangerous; somehow he knew she was danger...which was ridiculous. He was hundreds of years old; he shouldn't be scared of a human woman. He could handle whatever danger lie ahead. After all, what was life without a little risk?
He grabbed his jacket and headed over to where she stood.
Faith gulped down the rest of her drink, setting the empty glass on the tray of a passing waitress. Ignoring her protest, she strode forward until she met him in the middle of the dance floor.
"Whadya say we blow this joint?" Faith suggested.
Damon smiled, gesturing to the entrance to the club. "Let's go."
They didn't talk as they walked through the moonlit streets. Words weren't necessary - neither had any illusions about what their meeting was for. He didn't have to woo her with promises of romance; she didn't have to seduce him with her bad-girl charm. They both knew that they were together for one purpose - a good, quick fuck.
Faith allowed him to lead her to his place, half-expecting that he'd lead her to a tomb of some kind, seeing how he was undead and all. Instead, they ended up in a high-rise apartment building not far from the club. The doorman held the door open for them, greeting him as "Mr. Salvatore."
Salvatore. Savior. She wondered if that was his real name or if it was supposed to be ironic - he was a murdering bloodsucker, after all. Oh well. She supposed she'd have to kill him long before she'd find that out.
Damon didn't even ask her name as he led her up to his apartment. What he called her didn't matter, after all, when he wouldn't see her after tonight. Too bad, really, he thought, watching the way her firm butt moved beneath the tight leather. She was the sexiest woman he'd met in a long time - even the aura of danger she exuded turned him on.
He pushed her up against the door the moment it closed behind them, his lips cool against hers as he devoured her mouth. Faith relaxed against him, willing to let him take the lead. He could work out his aggression now - less work when she'd have to stake him later.
Her tongue was rough as it pushed against his, exploring his mouth as her hands ran over his body. She yanked his silk shirt out of his pants, her nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons. She tore her mouth away from his, kissing her way down his chest as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders.
Damon groaned at the sensation of her hot mouth on his cool skin. She was fire, threatening to consume him whole, bringing him to life with her wild energy. He pulled back, reaching down to lift her up, her legs coming around her waist as their mouths met in a passionate kiss.
Knowing he'd explode long before they made it to the bed, he headed for the couch. They turned, still entwined, as he carried her into the living room. With one hand he ripped her tank top from her body, shuddering at the delicious feeling of her lace-clad breasts against his chest. The woman ground her pelvis against his, and he shuddered at the sensation of leather on leather. Screw the couch - he had to have her now.
Faith groaned as he pushed her up against the wall, his leather-clad lower body pressing into hers as he pounded her against the wall. Her head fell back as his tongue teased the sensitive flesh of her neck. It had been so long since she'd had a man, and this one - vamp or no - was one hell of a lover.
Her eyes snapped open as she felt the scrape of his fangs on her neck. Her standards may have lowered to boinking the undead, but she wasn't anybody's snack. She shoved him away from her, nimbly landing on her feet and reaching for the stake in her boot. Damn him. Just her luck that he got greedy before getting her off.
Damon growled as he sprawled on the ground, looking up to see his dark-haired beauty brandishing a stake. Merda! He'd been right about the danger; this puttana was more than just a over-sexed barfly.
He swore silently, forcing himself to look at her eyes, instead of the way her lace-covered breasts heaved as she gasped for air. He climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. Never turn your back to the enemy, he reminded himself. He should be giving thanks that she'd decided to make her move now; he might not have survived if she'd waited for their post-coital naptime to stake him.
Faith stared at him, silently watching as he got to his feet. She sighed regretfully, staring at the perfection of his bronze skin. Damn if this vamp wasn't the sexiest man she'd ever seen. Too bad he was dust.
She should act now, stake him before he recovered from the surprise. No doubt he'd been bringing girls here for his snacking pleasure for a while. She wondered where he was hiding the bodies.
Damon tried to ascertain what she was thinking, but her expression remained inscrutable. Still, she hadn't attacked him yet. Could it be that she didn't want to kill him any more than he didn't want to kill her? Chancing that his inhuman reflexes would be good enough to stop her if she did decide to attack, he turned, keeping her in his peripheral vision as he crossed to the bar. Pulling out a bottle of scotch, he poured himself a generous two fingers, drinking it down in one gulp.
He turned, watching her, waiting for her to make her move. She obviously fancied herself the Van Helsing type - why didn't she just get on with it? "If you're going to try to kill me, why don't you just do it now? There's still enough time for me to find another young woman to feed off of after you're dead."
Faith growled. He'd obviously never met a Slayer before, or else he wouldn't be so eager for her to attack. Not that she'd allow herself to be provoked into an attack. His evil plan obviously counted on her being the aggressor, so she was just going to hang back and watch what happened next.
Then she realized something. In the mirror behind the bar she could see his reflection. Faith blinked. Yep, reflection, really there. He was a vampire - her Slayer senses had never let her down before - well, except for when she'd accidentally killed the deputy mayor, and that was in the heat of the moment. Now, she was calm and cool-headed - and he still felt like a vampire.
"You're a vampire," she stated, needing to hear his confirmation. But how could he be a vampire if he had a reflection? It didn't make any sense.
Damon nodded. "And you're, what, the Slayer?" he asked sarcastically. Could this lunatic really think she was the fictitious boogeyman of the undead?
Faith nodded. "Yeah, I'm the Slayer. And here how it works." She pointed to him. "Vampire." She pointed to herself. "Slayer." She pointed back at him. "Dead Vampire." She stared pointedly at him. "Got it?"
He threw back his head and laughed. Sure, she was sexy, but she was seriously disturbed if she thought she was the Slayer. "You can't be the Slayer. The Slayer is nothing more than a myth used to scare young vampires. She's not real."
"You bet your sweet ass I'm real." She glanced at the mirror behind him. "Now, vampires with reflections, that's not supposed to be real."
He shrugged. "I've had mine for more than 400 years. Happy I do, as it would be very difficult to be this well-dressed without it."
Faith frowned. He was being awfully casual about this Slayer thing. She didn't like it - he had to be up to something.
He poured himself another glass of scotch and headed for the balcony. He hated to abandon his apartment, even temporarily, but he didn't want to fight her - not tonight. She was the most intriguing woman he'd ever met and he wasn't ready to be done with her yet. He sipped his drink before setting the glass down on the railing.
Faith followed, keeping him within striking distance, wishing she knew what the hell he was up to. She knew he'd probably live through a fall from the balcony, even at this height, but he'd be left a broken pile of vampire bones she'd have no problem staking. Unless he was going to escape up onto the roof - but they were on the top floor, so she could follow him there. What the hell could he be planning?
Damon saw her watching him warily, and smiled, enjoying the knowledge that he was making her uncomfortable. "Lock up when you leave," he smirked, then whirled, turning into a large black crow.
Faith stared, nearly dropping her stake as she surveyed the sight before her. He was a crow. The vampire with a reflection had just turned into a crow. She could have sworn that the bird was winking at her as he flew away into the night.
It had to be a trick. She ran onto the balcony, looking around for any sign of what had really happened. There was no sign of the sexy vampire. He really had turned into a big black bird and disappeared.
Faith swore. She should have killed him while she had the chance. Though, she admitted, a part of her was glad she hadn't. Not only was he the sexiest man she'd seen in a long time, he was also the most interesting - even if he was undead.
She closed and locked the balcony door behind her. She looked around his apartment. She could search it, but she instinctively knew he'd left nothing personal behind. Faith headed for the door. He'd have to be a fool to come back here tonight, and one thing the mysterious Mr. Salvatore wasn't was a fool.
She had to get to the Hyperion. Maybe Angel or Wesley would know something about this strange morphing-into-an-animal vampire with a reflection. She had to learn more about him before their next meeting. There would be a next meeting - he'd make sure of that. Next time, she'd be prepared.