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Two and a half months. I almost forget what she looks like without the orange suit! I feel bad that it's taken this long, but I'm ready at last.

Willow finally came with me to see Faith, and I left the two of them alone to say what they needed to say. When I came back, the phones were hung up and they were just looking at each other. But I could tell they had both been crying, and Willow told me on the way home that she had accepted Faith's apology. After that, she was a little more open-minded about the attraction I feel towards Faith. She agreed that a real relationship between Faith and I might just be possible, if I really wanted that. And if by some chance Faith felt the same. Two big "ifs."

Willow shared some pretty private stuff that she went through when she first knew she was gay. And she helped me to decide how to handle this visit. I care so much about Faith. There's only one approach I can take that will be fair to both of us. Too bad it took so long to be sure of that. But at last I have it worked out. What to say, what to do. What not to do. I really hope it goes well.

So here I am. Waiting forever in the chairs by the CV desk.

Ah–finally! There's my guard. Does she know how ridiculous she looks with a gun and a pizza?

I take the pizza and my bag–both thoroughly examined for contraband–and follow the guard out to the trailers. Third time. CV-1 again.

I'm so nervous I'm almost shaking. Up the steps and in.

I know she only has one set of clothes in storage. So it's the same tight pants again, and the same tank top showing lots of skin above and below. But this time I'm really seeing her, and she takes my breath away. I stare at her, speechless. And she's just as nervous as me. I know she's afraid of a repeat of last time. I can read between the lines of her letters. She doesn't want to be attracted to me. And if she just can't help it, at least she doesn't want me to know.

I barely have time to set the pizza down before she slams into me and hugs me with her full Slayer strength. "Buffy!" Her cheek against mine. Her breasts...

Oh, God. Deep breath. Focus on a point on the wall and don't think about anything else. I can do this. I can handle this situation.

I can accept my feelings for her. I can shake off the guilt and let myself feel them. And I can bury them.

Maybe, some day, when she's free, I can dig them up again.

But for now, even if she did seem to feel the same, there would be no way to know if she had real feelings for me... or just two years of sexual starvation. And I will not take advantage of her. I will not turn her captivity into my own pleasure. Above all, I will not let her fear that I'll leave her all alone if she doesn't respond. The sad fact is, we are not equals here: I could have have all kinds of partners–in theory. I'm free, and there's no limit to the people in my life. But she has only me. That gives me power I don't want. And I will not abuse it.

Not to mention that I'd have no idea how to even bring up such a subject in the first place. Good thing I'm not gonna try, or I'd have spent another six months thinking things through.

The hug lasts forever. I don't want it to end. Eventually, though, we separate and fill each other in on what's been going on since last week when I came by with Xander and Anya. Then we fall into sparring and wrestling, both enjoying a workout that only another Slayer can provide. Or a big ugly monster, of course. It's fun. We laugh. And then it's pizza time. Still hot. Sit on the floor together to eat. It's just not pizza if you use a plate.

"Do you know I haven't had real pizza in two years?" The gratitude in her eyes makes me feel just great.

Fighting again. Trying not to smash the trailer up too bad.

I thought I had her that time, but instead I'm flat on my back and she's crouching over me with that little victory grin she does. Her face is close to mine. Her tension about this is obvious. I hope I'm keeping mine hidden, though.

"Well, B, what now? Can't beat each other up all day!"

It would be so easy to lift my face and kiss her. Maybe she'd let me, maybe she'd jump up and step on me. Either way, I'm not gonna go there...

Is she ever gonna let me up? We're just frozen here on the ground, staring into each other's eyes. What now? That's a good question, but I don't have an answer for her. Is my hand resting on her hip? How'd that get there?

She gets off of me–acting extra casual–and goes to sit on the bed, flustered. It's the only padded thing to sit on, so I join her even though I think a little distance could be useful right now.

"It's OK, Faith. If you're attracted to me. It doesn't bother me." See, I can talk about stuff just like a real grown up!

She relaxes a little, but says, "Well it bothers me, B. I don't want to be attracted to you."

OK. That hurts. Makes it easier for me to stick to my plan, but it really does hurt.

Awkward silence. I guess we can't just sit around anymore without something to do, or talk about.

"If we're done working out I'm gonna shower." I get my pajamas out of my bag–the least revealing I could find to bring–and step into the bathroom. I know my silhouette is visible. Last time, watching Faith pleasure herself, was... rather moving, shall we say. But I'm not self-conscious. Faith can watch me shower or not. Doesn't matter to me.

Her face is red when I emerge in my pajamas. Guess she watched. She hurriedly grabs her nightie out of a cabinet and steps into the bathroom for her turn. I stop her from closing the door and hand her white pajamas that match mine. I planned ahead: I am not going to spend the night with her wearing that short, sheer nightie again and no bra!

"What?" she says, not understanding what I've given her.

"I think you should wear these instead." Is she going to make me explain?

She unfolds the pajamas, looks at them a while, and then stares at me with wide eyes. "You..."

"Yes." She's figured it out finally. I'm attracted to her. "Sorry, Faith."

She closes the door without a word and just stands there fully clothed for a long, long time. Finally she undresses and starts the water. I turn my back on the bathroom. I know she doesn't want me watching.

But then again, she thinks I'm watching. She'll be just as uncomfortable whether I actually am or not. So... I may as well watch. What's the harm?

Even her shadow is beautiful. She's taking the world's fastest shower. If I was washing her I'd do a much better job.

If only she were free. If only we could explore our feelings without her being pressured to go along.

She dresses in the pajamas without any underwear at all. Why not? Much more comfortable. I did the same thing myself.

"Will you brush my hair?" I ask.

"Sure thing, B." She smiles. An activity. Much better than silence and fidgeting.

I sit on the bed and she kneels behind me with her knees around my hips. I close my eyes and just enjoy the feel of the brush and her fingers in my hair. Her fingertips keep brushing my ear and I enjoy even that tiny contact.

We switch so I can brush her. Maybe I'm scooched up a little too far against her butt. She doesn't seem to notice. "I love your hair, Faith! I'm glad they didn't make you cut it."

"They did, the first year I was here."

I laugh a little. "Wow, I would have liked to see that!"

"No you wouldn't!"

All done, but I just keep stroking her hair with my hands.

And again the question... now what? I get up and get the rest of the pizza. I'm not that hungry but it's something to do. We split what's left, taking our time. Then we manage to draw out brushing our teeth for several minutes. Faith unmakes the bed and remakes it for no reason. We sit and talk about the garden she wants to have. She promises to grow daffodils for me. My favorite. But just like everything else, we've talked about that many times before. I reorganize my bag while she moves things from cupboard to cupboard. We examine tomorrow's breakfast. Looks like raisin bran, or else something got into the cornflakes.

Eventually we climb under the blanket together, leaning on the wall side by side, as the night air cools the flimsy trailer. Talk about her childhood a little, but it makes us both sad, and as usual she doesn't want to dwell on that. The more she says she doesnt even think about her mother anymore, the more I know know those wounds won't ever heal. So we talk about my childhood instead, but I feel bad for everything I had that she never did. Plus, my childhood leads to the predictable mini-fight over Dawn the Destroyer. Tensions between those two aren't improving any.

And then there's nothing left to do. It's only about then-thirty.

"Guess we may as well go to bed," she says. Her warmth next to me feels so nice. Not sure how much sleep I'll really be getting tonight.

"Guess so." I turn towards her and lean closer. "Good night." Kiss her forehead lightly. Her hand is on my shoulder.

We don't move apart. My face is an inch from hers now. Her mouth is slightly open and our eyes are locked. I could look into her eyes for hours.

"I want to kiss you..." The whisper is out of my mouth before I realize it. Her eyes widen but she doesn't say a word. Neither of us moves.

Eventually I realize I'm slowly leaning in, closing that last inch between us. Her breath is fast. Maybe she's just embarrased and confused, or maybe... she wants this as badly as I do.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I've vowed not to do this. Somewhere back there. Gotta stop this. But I don't. Her warm breath is on my lips.

She saves the situation, pulling her face back a little at the last moment.

"No, Buffy... I can't... I don't... feel that way..." she stammers.

"That's OK," I say after staring into her eyes a while longer. We're still quite close. "I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry. I know this isn't the time or the place."

Our excited breathing is the only sound. I feel a lump in my throat, but I'm also relieved. Glad one of us has some self-control.

"But, Faith... that kinda feels nice...."

"Wh... what?" I feel like we're hypnotizing each other, just staring into each others' eyes like this.

"Your hand on my breast."

Faith looks down slowly, her mouth opening. She pulls her hand back suddenly and slides away from me on the bed. "Oh God! I'm so sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me!" Her eyes are watering. She's humiliated.

"Let's not be sorry. It's no biggie. Let's get some sleep." I stroke her cheek, and she thanks me with her eyes but I can tell she just wants to disappear. Early or not, we go to bed and turn out the lights. I wish it got darker in here, but the lights outside make the sealed windows glow. I think we'd both be happier hiding in total blackness.

Lying together in the near-darkness, minute after minute. Touching occasionally... a leg, a hand. Glad for her warmth. Listening to her breathing. Can't sleep and don't want to. I just want to savor her presence beside me.

An hour passes. Two.

I whisper softly, "Faith, are you as–"

"No."

"–sleep?"

Past midnight now, but I don't think she's slept any either.

"Are you OK?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Faith, I think we have to deal with this."

"I'm sorry, Buffy! Really, I can stop being so weird... I'll be different!" She's about to cry.

"Faith, no." I say gently, finding her hand with mine under the covers. "You don't have to do anything for me, or be anything. Both of us have been a little weird." I give her fingers a squeeze. "But no matter what happens, or how weird it feels, I promise I will still like you and I will still want to keep visiting. I look forward to seeing you more than anything else in my life. Do you understand, Faith? Do you understand that you won't lose me, no matter what?"

"Yeah."

"Do you believe me?"

Silence.

"Yeah. I do, Buffy. I just feel so helpless here. I get a little worked up sometimes thinking you might leave me all alone."

"I never will."

"I know. A lot of the time I know that. Thanks, Buffy." She rolls on her side to give me a quick hug. She sniffles a little as I hug her back. "Buffy...?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to... um... do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes."

"OK."

"I'm not going to, though. Not now."

"OK."

More silence.

"Buffy?"

"Yes?"

"Why not?"

I try to find the words to explain it all. "A lot of reasons, Faith. First of all you don't really want to. You're straight but you're starved for affection, and I'd be taking advantage of that. Second, I know you worry about making sure I have a good time here so I come back again. I don't want to take advantage of that either. And third, it's making things weird between us and I just want us to be friends and have fun like before. Maybe when you're out of here things will be different. I'm crazy about you, and maybe I'll be ready to think that way some day, even if you never are. But it doesn't matter. For right now, I can't be that way with you."

More silence. But she still feels nice in my arms, and it's a big relief to have everything out in the open. It'll be easier to stick to my plan now.

"What if I really do want it, Buffy? It's not fair if I can't try it, and find out for myself. It's not fair to make me wait years and years."

Maybe not quite everything is out in the open yet.

"Buffy, if you kiss me and I don't like it, I won't be mad."

OK. Plan in jeopardy. "Do you want me to?"

"I guess so."

Not too convincing.

"I think about you, Buffy..."

"I think about you, too."

"I think about you sometimes when I... um... touch myself. Sometimes."

That's a little more convincing. Imagine Faith getting shy about sex! "I think about you sometimes then, too."

"I just can't help it, B. I... touched myself... a lot... this morning. So I wouldn't be attracted to you so much."

"Did it help?"

"No."

"Didn't help me, either," I confess.

"You're not quite as starved as me, though. You have Spike, at least."

"Not anymore."

"Really?"

"Really. I've been thinking about you instead."

"Oh."

We fall away from each other again and lie in thought side by side. I wish she really did want me to kiss her. I wish I could be sure of that.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

Her lips are on mine. My hand finds her neck. We kiss very gently and slowly. No tongue. It's wonderful.

She lifts away and we take a ragged breath together, hearts beating fast.

I reach out to pull her to me again, knowing that this kiss was only the first of many perfect and beautiful moments we are about to share.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" I stuck my finger in her nose accidentally.

Try again. I pull her to me and begin a deeper kiss. My tongue pushes between her lips.

She jumps back. Then leans in again. I keep my tongue to myself this time.

But she doesn't. Her tongue is on mine. Oh...

Her body is on top of me now, and the kiss goes on and on. It's sloppy and awkward. We can't seem to figure out how to position our heads. It's probably one of the worst kisses of all time. But I'm sure enjoying the attempt.

"Oh, Faith...."

"That wasn't so hard," she breathes.

"Faith... I want to have sex with you..."

"I... I'm not sure I know what to do..."

"Me neither..."

"I guess we can figure something out."

"Yeah..."

My hand glides down her back to her butt. It feels nice. She sits up, still on top of me, and touches my chest. That feels nice, too. So I unbutton my pajama top. She looks almost scared as she lightly touches my naked skin.

I reach up to unbutton her top, and touch her the same way. Awkwardly, tentatively. But I'm pretty sure she likes it OK. She is unbelievably beautiful even in the dim light. Our breathing is so loud in the stillness!

I pictured this moment more like Spike and I. Passionate, uncontrolled, and simple. But I for one have some feelings here that I never felt with Spike. And I'm used to thinking of myself as straight. So is Faith. Simple is not an option.

Somehow we end up naked, except for her pajama bottom. One pajama leg is still on her and somehow I've got my arm partway through the other. She falls off the bed and I can't help laughing. At first she's embarrassed–I think she's used to being pretty smooth in bed–but as she crawls away across the floor trying to pull her leg free, I fall after her and then we're both laughing.

I give up! I tear the thing in two. She can just wear her nightie later. Now we're kneeling together nude on the linoleum floor. Another kiss. A little smoother this time. Her hands all over my body, and mine on hers.

And then my hand is wet. Somehow I've found the place I've managed to avoid so far. Pressing into her heat and wetness. This is... so... intimate... intimate in a way I can't imagine experiencing with a man. My fingers are inside another human being. A wonderful human being.

Like the kissing, this part is turning out harder than I thought. I thought it would be like pleasuring myself, but I realize I don't exactly know what to do to make it nice. But I do my best, and I do it gently. Her hands are on my shoulders and her eyes have closed.

Many minutes pass, and as one arm grows tired, and then the other, her face slowly transforms into a mask of sweet suffering. Her breath is louder and faster.

Her body jerks slightly with a small grunt. "Buh.... Buffy... you can stop now."

"You want me to?"

She nods.

"Did you... did you... finish?" I ask, shyly.

"Pretty much I think." Not exactly a glowing review. I guess what I've been doing is barely lovemaking at all. What did I imagine I would do? I guess I could have tried using my mouth... No way am I ready for that.

"I wish I was better at this," I say.

She pulls me into another hug without saying anything. Then she gets back into bed. It's cold.

"I'm gonna wash my hands I guess." I step into the bathroom to wash my fingers. Can't believe what I just did. Can't believe this moisture is from her. What a night! I wonder what she tastes like.

She doesn't taste like much, but... I think I like it. I take my fingers out of my mouth and wash my hands.

Oh, crap.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Now I know how Faith felt last time. Was she watching my shadow as I licked my fingers? Please, not!

Judging by her wide eyes, I think she saw. "Caught me," I say sheepishly.

"What... what was it like?"

"It was pretty good."

"Wow."

"Are you OK, Faith?"

"Yeah. It's all just a little weird."

"I know." I get into bed with her, still nude.

Her hand glides down my side and fumbles between my legs.

"You don't have to do that, Faith." I really need release myself, but I don't think she's ready to give it to me.

"I don't mind..." But she stops moving her fingers, and I take her hand away. She wipes her fingers on the sheet.

"I know, Faith. It's OK. Another time, maybe." Quick little kiss. "Thanks for trying this with me."

"Buffy..."

"Yes?"

"I'm so afraid." Her voice cracks.

"No... Faith..." I caress her cheek. I hope I haven't made a terrible mistake tonight. I hope I haven't tainted our friendship. I've already hurt one friend by my lack of control: Spike. Please don't let me hurt poor Faith!

This is not how I told myself the evening would go.

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid that it won't last. I know someday you'll find someone you can be with all the time. Someone who can be there when you need them. Someone you can call on the phone, and see every day. And you won't want to see so much of me anymore. You won't have the time." She sniffles and I see shining tears in her eyes.

I think for a while. There's no easy answer for that. Not when we're talking about years and years like this. "Faith, it's been a really hard year for me since I came back. Sometimes I do feel like I need someone... like I can't stand to be alone. There are moments when I really need someone who is more than just a friend. And when that happens, lately, I think about you. And I don't feel quite so alone. And I get by. I know you don't believe this, Faith, but I'm really not going to disappear from your life. I'm really not."

Her cheeks are wet under my fingers. I dry them with the blanket. "Now get some sleep, Faith, and don't be afraid of anything. I'm here."

"Thanks, Buffy."

"Thank you, Faith. Good night."

"Good night, Buffy."

We pull together naturally, her leg between mine and our arms around one another. We close our eyes. For the first time all night, I feel natural and easy with her. She's asleep within a few minutes, and I stroke her hair.

An orgasm would be wonderful, but I'd rather have this any day. I drift off to sleep in the warmth of her nakedness.

 

---

 

Morning. I open my eyes and she's staring at me. We're still pressed close together. She smiles.

We hold each other in silence, and nothing is awkward. We don't need to speak. We don't need to do anything.

"We'd better get dressed, B, time's almost up."

"No!" I protest sleepily, burying my face into her neck. She runs her fingers through my hair.

"Do you think you want to try this again sometime, Buffy?"

"No. Not if you don't want to."

"I want to."

We share a kiss. That's getting easier at least. "Me too!"

We dress quickly, eat a little cereal–raisins after all–and curl up together on the bed to await the end. And we're OK together. I know it. The silence isn't awkward anymore.

Soon we're being led away in opposite directions, both crying a little, and the first thing I do is fill out another CV request. Once every two months is the schedule she's on. So if I understand the rules right, it should only be a month and a half until we can be together again. Because I delayed for two and a half months last time. I'll keep my fingers crossed that the visit is approved.

But a month and a half this time feels ten times longer than two months ever did before. My chest hurts, actually hurts, to think of it. I'm afraid I will keep on hurting until she is in my arms again. And there's always the chance that they'll never let us be together again. I simply can't think about that.

 

---

 

It's only been three weeks since our CV, but I've been in to see her seven times already. A six hour round trip for twenty minutes on the phone. Once I stayed in a motel to see her two days in a row. And even still, we both sit down at night and need to write to each other. There's so much to say. Every little thing about her life and mine, prison politics and squabbles with Dawn, it all seems important. The suspense when I check the mail every day almost kills me. About half the time there's a letter from her. Sometimes long, sometimes short.

We are getting closer every day, and it scares me. I'm afraid that if this goes on, there will be no way either of us can survive the next ten years. Plus or minus.

Sometimes, lately, we hardly even pick up the phones when we meet. We just look at each other, and somehow our eyes say everything there is to say.

But today I have something to say with words. It's not easy, but it has to be said.

"Faith..." I take a deep breath.

"What's the matter, Buffy?" Her lip trembles, the way it does, and I think she may have already sensed what's coming. That would make things a tiny bit easier.

"Faith... I... " I stop. I can't say it through the phone like this. It feels wrong. I hang up without finishing.

I put my hand on the glass, and she reaches to place her palm opposite mine. A tear rolls down her cheek. A lot of them roll down mine.

I mouth the words silently. "I love you."

Her mouth opens, then closes again without replying. More silent tears, until the guards take her away.

 

---

 

I've just gotten today's mail, and now I'm kneeling on my bed, crying.

Our CV was approved for five weeks from today.

And I'm holding the only love letter that anyone ever sent me. It's long, and I read it again and again and again. The last line tears my heart apart:

I feel like I've waited my whole life for you, and now I can't be with you. I don't know how to be alive, in here, with you out there. Please, Buffy. Wait for me. I love you.

Faith

 

Continued with "CV-5"

 

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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