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illustrationillustrationCV-2

This is a sequel to CV-1.

 

 

Are they going to bring her or not? What's the deal?

I've been waiting over half an hour, getting more nervous with every passing minute. You'd think I wouldn't be nervous the second time, right? Well, at least this time I know she doesn't want to kill me. But I've been looking forward to this like ten Christmases rolled into one, and it turns out I'm scared stiff. What to say to her? What to do? Have we already said it all?

Even worse, what if they don't bring her? Anything could have come up, and if this is canceled... who knows if they'll let us schedule another try. We were lucky to get this one after the mess we left last time. And it took two months before we got this visit approved. Two months! Of course I've seen her three times since that first visit, but always through the glass. On the goddamn greasy phone.

I pace from one end of the trailer to the other, over and over. That's four and a half seconds each way. I timed it. I want to hit that buzzer and ask the guard what's going on. Like they'd tell me!

It stinks in here. Took me twenty minutes to locate the smell. Bad news: it's dinner. Whatever's in those packages smells like shit. I don't think we can risk another food fight, but something tells me tonight's dinner is only suitable for throwing. If this visit even happens!

Footsteps on gravel. A voice–not hers, though. Somebody screwing around with the lock forever. Come on, stick the key in and turn, you can do it! Is she here or not?

She's here! The door closes behind her and she just stands there. Death in her eyes, almost shaking with fury. Boy, have I seen that look more times than I care to. Damn, she is beautiful!

"I baked bread!" What the hell? Psycho Slayer on board! Think I'll keep my distance until I know what's eating Buffy.

"Buffy, what's the matter?" She looks at me but doesn't say a thing. "Buffy?" At least she looks less pissed when she sees me, rather than more.

"I baked bread."

Um. OK. "What... kind of bread?"

She looks at me like I'm the crazy one. Yeah, I've seen that look a time or ten too. "I made spaghetti, and my mom's sauce... it actually came out right! And salad, and I baked bread! Took me three tries and then even that came out right!"

"That's great, B, but how about we don't talk about food... trust me, when you see what we've got for dinner you'll never want to eat again." She's not pissed at me, at least, so I step closer. Oof! That's a serious hug! Wow... this is nice. Is she gonna let go...? No? OK, then!

"I made us dinner. A really nice dinner." She's calming down. "They took it! All of it!"

"Oh, Buffy..." This girl rules. She did all that for me. She has officially made me one more home-cooked meal than my so-called mother ever did in fifteen years. And I don't get to eat it! Now I'm getting pissed. So close to getting real food! I lead her to the bed at the end of the trailer. "They took it from you?"

"Yeah. They said I couldn't bring anything in here that hadn't been approved in advance!"

"Can you blame 'em, B? I was gonna tie that spaghetti together and climb over the wall!"

"I'm so sorry, Faith. I screwed up I guess."

"Sounds like you worked pretty hard. It was very sweet. Thanks, Buffy."

"There goes a quarter of our time. I spend a half an hour fighting over the food! What a waste!" They really pissed her off!

"A quarter of our time?"

She looks at the wall clock. "We have 'til nine. An hour and a half left."

"Buffy!" Not that losing a half hour of the visit doesn't bug me, but... I just have to laugh. "Nine A.M... We have all night!"

"What? But they only give you two hours!"

"Yeah, B, two hours the first time... but a regular conjugal visit is the whole night!"

"You're kidding, right? I didn't bring a change of clothes or anything..."

Oh shit, she doesn't want to stay. I need this. "I'm not kidding, but you can always buzz yourself out if you don't want to stay that long."

"Now you must be kidding. Of course I'll stay." Finally she smiles. What a smile! No wonder she has so many friends.

 


 

I thought it would get awkward 'cause we wouldn't have that much to talk about, but I was wrong. I mean... we haven't found that much to talk about, but it's not awkward. Just sitting here together is nice. And we have all night, so if we just want to sit here, then why not?

She has been telling me a few stories from the Hellmouth, but I pretty much know what's going on already. We write to each other at least once or twice a week, and she's been in for a quick visit every couple of weeks. She even brought her so-called sister. How spooky is that? They act like sisters, they look like sisters... but they both know damn well it's a lie. Me, I wouldn't trust Dawn as far as I could throw her. Although, come to think of it, that could be pretty far. Buffy says she's just a victim, no agenda of her own. But I'd be sleeping with one eye open. You never know. I hope Buffy's careful.

The feeling's mutual I think. The Key and I smile and play nice, but even though I don't remember her, she remembers me. She remembers everything I did in Sunnydale as if she had been there. Which she wasn't. Now that's spooky.

The big thing Dawn remembers? When I held Willow hostage for the Mayor. I beat Red up a bit, threatened to cut her. Threatened to kill her. I wish I could tell Willow that deep down inside I never could have done it. But that's bullshit. I would have stabbed her to death in a heartbeat. Which is exactly why I deserve to be here.

I won't go back to being that way, though. Why did I do evil things? Because there were no evil things. I could do what I wanted and nothing mattered. Yep, that's one lesson my mom taught me well. But now I've faced the fact that there is evil. That I have been evil. For the rest of my life, the first thing I see when I wake up each morning will be the face of that first guy I killed. Sure, I didn't mean it. But I meant the rest of it. I meant to kill Willow. And Angel, too. Take something away from the people who were my friends. I'm glad Xander came to hear my apology to his face, but Willow won't come. Can't blame her. I think she and Dawn are close. I think they're both telling Buffy to stay away from me. I'm sure Willow thinks I will hurt her.

Never. I'd die for Buffy. She finished what my Watcher started, before she was tortured to death. She taught me to be good. Or maybe, she just taught me that I am good. I wasn't gonna hear it back in Sunnydale. But I heard it later. And I put myself in here. I hate this place. But better to be here than out there sick in the head.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"Me." I make a face. She can tell they aren't happy thoughts.

"Same here."

"Thinking about yourself?"

"Thinking about you."

"Don't think too hard. I don't want to lose you as a friend again."

"Thinking good things! You know, you're pretty hard on yourself, Faith!"

I spread my hands. Yeah I'm hard on myself. Shouldn't I be?

"You know what I was thinking?" she asks, "I was thinking about going out slaying with you."

"Those were the days!" But how many times can we hash over the same old times? How is this friendship going to last in the years ahead, with nothing but that?

"No. I wasn't thinking about the past. I was thinking about the next time we'll go slaying together."

"In six years? Eight? Ten?" Sounding bitter. I promised myself I wouldn't get like that!

"If that's what it takes, then yes! But, Faith, what does your lawyer say, isn't there any hope?"

"I don't have a lawyer, not since my trial. How could I afford one?"

She looks so sad. Pity and anger on my behalf. I think she's been wanting to ask about my lawyer for weeks but she's been afraid of the answer. She doesn't make a big thing of it, but I can tell my situation has her very upset. I'm touched. But it's been two months, she needs to start dealing with reality.

"Buffy, I'm here. That's the way things are, and nothing's going to change. Not for a very long time. I'm not a Slayer anymore, but you are. Worry about that. Don't worry about me."

"How can I not worry about you?" Not sure what to say about that. I worry about her being out there. I wish I could be there to keep her safe. "And anyway, you are still a Slayer and you always will be."

"Not by the time I get out of here. I work out, keep my strength up, but I can't train like I should. No serious Slayer moves. No weapons."

"You think you forget that stuff? I bet you did just fine when you fought that vampire guard. I bet he never had a chance!" I shrug. True enough.

She gets up and walks to the tiny "living room" at the far end. "Come here."

I start to walk towards her and she's on me in the blink of an eye. I dodge a fist, trip her up, slam her on her back on the floor. The trailer shakes.

"I think you've still got it!" She grins.

"You let me do that."

"Actually, I was pretty sure I'd have you doubled over on the floor by the bed. I was going to suggest we train together a little, but I don't think you need it!" I laugh, feeling pretty damn good all of a sudden! "Faith, you're two years younger than me and have a lot less training. But you've always been my equal in a fight. So don't try to tell me you're not a Slayer anymore!"

I help her up. Buffy is the best! I kick her in the head.

At least... I try to. Face mashed into the floor with her foot on the back of my neck. I laugh. "This takes me back, B!"

Now I know we'll have no trouble passing the time. We start drilling together, punches and blocks, a few kicks, even some new things she's picked up. I wish we had some weapons. Of course, in this little tin can there will be no flips or spin-kicks!

She gives me a hell of a workout, and I give her one too. Nope, I haven't lost it! And if I haven't lost it by now... I never will!

It's not slaying, but it's fun. Only thing is... we end up with... different parts... pressing against each other sometimes. Wouldn't even notice if we were really fighting. But once or twice I start to get embarrassed. I keep my problem to myself though.

One bad moment: my shirt gets hiked up and suddenly her hand is on my stomach as I lie on the floor. What the hell, B? Oh... she's looking at my scar. Where she stabbed me in the stomach so deep she broke a rib in my back. Well, I deserved that a hundred times over. But I know it haunts Buffy that she had it in her to do it. Surprised the hell out of me, too! I think her eyes are watering.

Buffy rises, now subdued. "We better lay off, we probably sound like we're hurting each other."

"They could care less. You're my girl... to them, you're scum just like me. Let's just be careful not to damage anything!"

But we've lost our momentum so we break for dinner. Completely inedible. Even I can't eat this crap! But there are two packaged breakfasts, too. We'll be sorry in the morning, but we're too hungry to care, so we open those too. Breakfast is cold: cereal, fruit, sweet rolls. But it's food, and a hell of a lot better than the smelly slop they gave us for dinner. Water out of the tap to drink. Let it run and it goes clear. Pretty clear, anyway.

Letting our "dinner" settle. "What now, B? Kind of a boring night out for you, I'm afraid!"

"Well if we get really bored..." she jokes, pulling the ever-present dental dams and lubricant out of the drawer and raising her eyebrows mischievously.

That does it! Sudden kick to her stomach. "You asked for it, B!" But she absorbs the blow without even trying. So... back at it. Hands on each others' shoulders. One of us will end up on the floor. Slam! I'm the victor. Sucks to be you, B!

Same position again. "Wait, I have a better idea." I put in the tape, same one as last time, and our song plays. We dance. The sound is terrible. Feel the bass? Hell, I can't even hear the bass. But we play the tape all the way through twice, and we dance and dance and dance.

Actually, towards the end, we're kind of fighting again. Fighting and dancing. Anyway... a damn good time.

I for one am a sweaty mess! Luckily there is a bathroom here, if you count that tiny box with the thin plastic walls. It even has a shower of sorts, and two towels and toothbrushes. Buffy wants to go first. There's a light in there and I can see the shadow of her undressing on the flimsy white divider. That's a bit embarrassing! Think I'll look... um... at the floor instead.

The water's been running for a while. I glance up and her shadow's just standing beside the shower still. "Is there actually hot water?" I ask.

"Guess not," she says, and steps in hesitantly. She squeals in pain. "Aaah! Yes there is!" She jumps back out, adjusts the water, and tries again. Now she's soaping up.

What the hell am I doing? I do not need to be watching Buffy take a shower! It's just, that's the only movement around, only natural my eyes are drawn there. Back to the floor, now, give her some privacy.

Out she comes, in her towel. Well, slightly in. Prison towels resemble what the rest of the world calls washcloths. She doesn't have a change of clothes, does she? She heads for the bed and pulls the blanket off.

"Watcha doin' B?"

"Getting into my robe," she says, wrapping herself in the blanket. Good solution.

My turn. Wow, this bathroom sucks. Pulling my pants down... oh. I see my own shadow on the wall and I'm feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden. She can see me, if she's looking.

Well, make it snappy! I strip and run the water, stepping in before it's even really hot. Quickly rinse off my sweat... and hers. Soaping my... OK, forget that, just wash my hair. Good enough. I do have a change of underwear. No spare clothes–it's back to a uniform for me tomorrow–but I have a nightie so that will have to do. I put it on, step out and start toweling my hair.

Buffy's staring at my nightie. Hey, it's a little sheer, but that's my style. Get over it, B.

Buffy looks as exhausted as I feel. I join her on the bed. She offers some of her blanket. "Thanks." So she's under here naked with me. Kinda weird. Well, not really... there's no privacy in prison, and I see dozens of women naked every morning. This is no biggie.

"You OK?" She leans toward me.

"Five by five!" That sounded like I was snapping at her, but I didn't mean to. I am not attracted to Buffy, so just relax. Look, I haven't had sex in about two years, which obliterates my previous record of about ten days! Every woman knows when another woman's attractive, right? So of course I'll have the occasional impulse to act on it. What with ten offers a day, kinda hard to get that totally out of your mind! But so what? It's men for me. Always has been, always will. No matter how many years it takes.

I just wish I wasn't so aware of her next to me.

OK, start a conversation... "Hey, B, you know that vampire guard I took out?"

"Yeah."

"Well everyone knew what he was up to, abusing the prisoners. And he wasn't the only one... but guess what? There haven't been any beatings or rapes since then."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Cause of the way it happened. No body found, he was just here, working his shift, and then he wasn't! If you ask me, the guards are pretty creeped out!"

"That's awesome, Faith, I hope it lasts!"

"Well, most of the guards are fine anyway, but there are enough who will look the other way. So I've been doing a little to keep them afraid. I've been spreading rumors that someone high up, outside the prison, is having guards 'taken care of' when they abuse prisoners. So maybe there's only one missing here, but more missing at other prisons!" I'll admit, I'm proud of my little plan. I think it will keep the bastards cautious for a year or three!

"You're a scheming little weasel, Faith!" says Buffy, and I do like that smile I'm getting!

"And you know what I hope? Now that it's stopped... maybe it won't start up again. It won't seem normal anymore, and people won't look the other way. Maybe."

"Maybe you're right." Buffy slides over closer and pulls me into a hug. Very sweet, B. But more clothing next time, please.

I follow her glance at the clock. Almost 2 AM! I can't believe we were working out that long! Knowing the time makes me even more tired. "We better sleep," she says, "I have to drive back to Sunnydale in the morning."

She gathers the blanket up and climbs under the sheet, lying down on the side by the wall. I remove my bra from under my nightie and take my place beside her, arranging the blanket. Please don't tell me she's going to sleep nude like this.

She turns the light out, leaving nothing but the glow of spotlights through the taped windows. "This is kinda fun, isn't it?" Her hip touches mine.

OK, this isn't gonna work.

"Buffy, would you please put your underwear on?"

"I don't have any, remember? I didn't know I'd be sleeping over."

"Could you just get into what you took off? You're making me uncomfortable, B!" I get up to let her off the bed, but she doesn't move.

That's a weird look I'm getting.

"Look, B, have you ever felt an attraction you couldn't help but you didn't want?"

"Um, was I not clear about the whole Spike thing?"

"Right. Well... the thing is... I haven't had sex since I've been here, and I can't help feeling a little of that same problem. Not about you, of course! Just about women in general. Just every now and then. No big deal, really, I just feel a little weird about you sleeping next to me nude like that. I would never do anything with a woman–no offense to Red and her girl–but it's still... I don't know. Distracting."

That's an even weirder look I'm getting. This is so damned embarrassing. "Sure, Faith... I didn't know." She gets up, pulling the blanket with her, and slips into her panties underneath it. What about her bra? But I can't very well say anything about that. I took mine off! Can't sleep in a brassiere, no way. I get a good look at her as she climbs under the sheet and straightens the blanket. OK, this is going to be a long night, I'm afraid. She pats the bed beside her and I get in. "Thanks, B."

The panties don't make me one bit more comfortable about this. I wait and wait... dead tired, but I can't sleep at all. She drops off to sleep just fine though... Look at her, so peaceful and good... And meanwhile she seems to be drifting closer and closer in her sleep. Stay on your side, B!

Eventually I drift off. Big mistake. I wake slowly, gradually realizing she has an arm and a leg over me! Nothing but my thin nightie between her arm and my chest. Nothing at all between her leg and my thighs. And my right arm is touching something warm and soft. With no bra! With a start I leap out of bed, and she wakes up, blinking.

"What is it, Faith?"

"Nothing, B, just gotta pee. Go back to sleep." She drifts off again. Thankfully, she rolls back onto her own side... mostly. But she takes all the covers, and it's chilly in here. I take a deep breath, pry them out from under her so I can have some, and try to get comfortable. Here she comes a-creeping. Wouldn't mind a man snuggling up like that, nice and warm, but... OK, there she goes with the leg! I'm outta here! It's not a question of being gay. I'd have to be dead not to feel a little temptation.

Please, please, please tell me there's a thermostat in this crate! Ah... there you are! By the door. My savior. Crank it up! I think I'll just hang out over here until the temp rises beyond the snuggle zone.

Much better. I slip back into bed, desperately in need of some shuteye. And she's actually letting me have some blanket without a fight. Still very aware of her skin inches from mine. But I start to drift off again bit by bit. B keeps her distance. Thank goodness I thought to turn the heat up.

The blanket shifts suddenly, just as I'm about to slip into sleep. Buffy has shoved the covers off, and she's lying there peaceful as ever... but much more naked.

OK, heat was a bad idea. Happy medium? I slip out and turn the heat down partway. Doesn't seem to have any effect, but I keep watching her to see if she puts the covers back on.

No! No need to watch! I'll keep my back turned and check every couple of minutes. I can feel it getting cool again. Not too cool I hope.

She doesn't stir, just lies there on her back. Come on, B! I can tell she's getting cold, I can see that her...

OK! Hold it right there, Faith! Houston, we have a problem! Five hours to daylight. I'm going to go stark raving mad. In desperation I approach and try to cover her myself. I can't move the heavy blanket without risking being caught, but the sheet is light. I drape it over her naked chest.

The... things... I most need to hide are somehow even more visible with the sheet.

I take refuge in the farthest chair and sit with my head in my hands. Of course it's the whole night, B! Bring some pajamas! Is that so much to ask?

All right, there's just one answer to all this. The problem is me more than her–so I'll tackle things from my end. Take the edge off my unwanted desires.

I sit on the toilet for a little quality time with three fingers and a faceless mystery man. Oh, God, I needed this!

Moving faster. No... better not. Little sticky sounds that seem loud in this tiny space. Keep it slow and quiet. Gotta keep my breathing quiet, too. Can't seem to keep either sound completely under control. Well, luckily she's asleep. This is starting to feel very good.

Oh, God, get out of my head, B!

Brought that little experiment to a screeching halt. OK... try again. Men. Nothing in my head but men. Men like the guy in the perfume commercial. Men like Angel... why not? Men like that cute guy across the hall in Sunnydale. Before I knew he was a vampire. Men like the guy who does the monthly inspections here. Men like Buffy.

Starting to feel good again. Come on, just get me through this! Getting tired... switch to the left hand. Not the same with my left hand, but, it's not my hands I'm imagining anyway. It's...

Ewwwww!

Oh, shit! What am I going to do?! I have a little game for ya: pick someone. Anyone. Now don't think about her. Not even a little.

See what I mean?

OK, mental control time. I know eight forms of martial arts. I can block pain with my mind. I can do this! After two years of celibacy, I can damn well think about men!

So far so good.... Oh, hell... this is getting me nowhere.

To hell with slow! Go fast and get it over with before my mind starts messing with me again. I switch back to my favorite hand and it's full speed ahead, right where it counts. Yeah it makes a sound, but she's asleep. Stop it! Not thinking about her!

There we go... men... lots of men... now just let me have the release I need. Please!

Nothing. Nada. It feels good... to a point. Shit. I have never had this problem before. Come on! A few more fast circles with my fingertips and then I stop, defeated. No orgasm for me. Silence again, and I'm suddenly very aware of the wet sounds that I've been making. Some creaking of the trailer, too. This evening is truly an adventure in self-consciousness. But I'm sure I wasn't loud enough to wake her. Probably. Damn these thin plastic walls!

Thin plastic walls....

Oh, no. No no no no no.

There's my shadow, sitting on the can. Visible in perfect detail from the outside. I know with utter certainty that the bathroom cubicle is like a giant boxy light bulb, lighting up the whole trailer. I quickly pull the chain and kill the light. Panties up. Wipe my fingers with toilet paper–don't want to make noise by running water. Slip silently out and pray she slept through my little shadow play.

Her eyes are wide open.

No, they're shut. I creep closer. Shut. She's fast asleep.

Were they open for a moment when I first emerged? No. No!

Every nerve is screaming and my pulse is pounding. Sleep? Not a chance. Her perfect curves edged in light from the windows. At least I have more space in the bed. For some reason she's just rolled all the way to the wall. Fine by me. I slip back into bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about.... well, not about Buffy. Not about Buffy. The mattress is warm where she had been lying partly on my side a moment ago.

This is going to be the longest night of my life.

 


 

Morning. Haul myself gratefully out of bed and into the bathroom to dress. No breakfast–ate that last night. I'm starving but I'll have to wait for lunch. Buffy's up too when I emerge. Turn my back quickly as she slips back into her clothes. Her hair's a mess–and still looks great. Awkward silence. "How'd you sleep, B?"

"Fine. You?"

"Great!" Actually, I'm not sure I slept at all. I'm dead on my feet.

More small talk. Buffy's going to keep working on Willow and get her to come hear my apology. Which I need to give her, but I'm dreading the moment. Buffy makes me promise–again–to keep the Spike thing secret.

"Still at it with Spike?"

"'Fraid so. Not as much, but sometimes. I just don't care about him the way he cares about me. It really has to stop."

She's going to bring Dawn again, too. Yippee. I do not like to think of B letting that thing into her house. Sure, she's every bit as sweet as Buffy says. A little too sweet. Buffy doesn't see the look that comes into Dawn's eyes when her back is turned. Frankly, I'm glad for a little bullet-proof glass between us. I wish Buffy had Giles around still–he's more level-headed about choosing who to trust.

Silence. Not comfortable silence like last night. Awkward. Oh, well, just a few minutes left anyway.

Does she really like me? Or is she being my friend out of pity? Depression setting in. If this isn't our last visit ever, it's our last visit for a long time. In person, anyway. And I do really like her.

Tapping on the door. Panic and relief: the tension's over.

She hugs me. A nice hug. But... her warm chest pressed to mine... soft... never really noticed that like I am now. Enough of that!

"Goodbye, Faith. Until next time!" I hope there is a next time. Getting a visit in the visitor area, with the phones, that's pretty easy. Getting a conjugal visit isn't. For that matter, I hope she even wants a next time, after seeing me.... But she didn't see that. She didn't.

"Bye, Buffy..." Damn it! Can't help getting teary. Heart's pounding. It's all over again. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't think about next week. Or next month. Or next year.

She's stroking my hair. The door's opening. She gives me a quick little kiss... wow... on the lips....

Well, no harm in that.

 


 

Back into my stylish orange uniform and then straight to work. Pay's not much, but putting together parking meters passes the long days. My job? I put on the little twisty knobs. Can you say, waste of a Vampire Slayer?

Still thinking about Buffy... I don't even notice what I'm doing. And before I know it, lunch time. I'm starving. I don't care if it's raw dog. I don't care if it's live dog. I'll eat it.

Or not. I get to the end of the lunch line and they won't give me any! So I'm being punished. For what?

"43100. Over there." That's my number, don't wear it out. I step over to the other window. There's a tray for me after all.

Holy shit... Spaghetti with homemade sauce. Salad. And garlic bread Buffy baked just for me! I guess it passed inspection. A little worse for wear, but at least they re-heated it.

Weird bread, though. Long, and pointy on one end. Ha! Oh, Buffy... How'd she do that? Damn, that's too funny!

God, this is good eats! Sorry you're not here, B, I'll just have to eat your share, too! Hard to eat while I'm laughing, though. No... not laughing, so much....

Crying?

 

Continued with "CV-3"

 

I would be grateful if you would give me your comments and rate my stories in my Guestbook, or email me. Reader responses will determine whether I publish more stories, and will help improve them! Thanks for reading! (If you'd like to be notified when I post new stories, let me know. Further "CV-1" sequels are planned.)

FAQ: The details of the conjugal visit thing are completely imaginary, not from experience, and may be quite inaccurate. I have never actually had a conjugal visit with a Vampire Slayer. I would, however, certainly consider it. Incarcerated Slayers may inquire here.

If you enjoyed this story, try Witch's Faith. Feeling rejected by Tara and Buffy, Willow finds herself helping Faith get out of prison–and falling in love. When the dark Slayer's plots turn deadly, Willow must betray someone she loves. But who will she choose?

Willow felt very exposed. "Thanks for leaving me my socks." Everything else she had been wearing was now in shreds scattered to the four walls. Faith's passion had been downright scary at times. There had been no question who was the natural predator and who was the willing prey.

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