Title: What We Deserve (1/1)
Author: ~Talion
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you might recognize.
Rating: NC-17 (deals with physical abuse in a F/F relationship!)
Feedback: I guess so, please don't flame.
Notes: The idea isn't even really mine. A friend made the comment that Faith
may not be the stronger of the slayer were they to get together after her
getting out of prison. This and a song inspired this fic. I don't know where
it came from, so please don't flame.
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"Faith, your face. What happened?" He asks, as if he didn't know. I just
shrug, mumble the explanation of a rough patrol, and head for my half of the
house. He lives below ground. I live on the second floor. The offices and
kitchen are on the main floor. I don't know how he got it. I know I don't
want to. Fuck this, fuck all of it. Prison was bad, but at least there I had
a chance. I could win. I can't win here. I can't win against her. She
controls everything I am. And the only reason I stay here, the only reason I
allow myself to dwell in Angel's home, is because I know he's the only other
person on this planet who knows what it's like to be addicted to her. To have
her live in your every though. To have her scent cling to every thing you
own. Not because you haven't washed it a billion fucking times, but because
it doesn't wash out ... she doesn't.
"Angel said I should come check on you ... shit!" Cordelia rushes to my
side. It's strange, she understands. She knows. She's rather vocal about
knowing. When Angel took me in he and she were already ... what ever the hell
they are. It pissed B off. But both of them shrugged it off. B had Beef
Stick. I give her the same excuse I gave Angel. "Fai... a vamp did that to
you?" She glares at me, it's odd having a best friend. I'm still trying to
get used to it. Every time I fall she's there to pick my sorry ass up off the
ground though. Now I know why Red gets so pissy about me. I despise any of
Delia's old friends, whenever they stop by, look down their noses at me. I
nearly hit that chick Blue, or whatever the hell her name was. " ... you know
that right? And I'm telling you right now Fai, if you keep letting her hit
you, I'm gonna tell Angel." I zoned back in, just in time to hear the last
bit.
"I told you Delia. Vamp. I fight them, threaten to stake them ... usually
do in the end. It's not that bad. So a few get in a lucky hit or two." I take
the wash cloth with peroxide on it, back from her. Cleaning the cuts on my
arms. Cuts to small to be claw marks, to deep to be human. Fuck. Delia sees
them and raises that one eye brow. "D. I'm fine. Really. I think I'm a big
girl and I can handle myself." I assure her, lining my voice with sarcasm,
before adding a teas to my words. "Beside ... unlike you, I can go to the
bathroom all by myself!" I nod with mock pride, and D falls into the counter
laughing. That makes me smile and I hide the wince I feel as my bruised and
swollen skin sings in pain.
"I know. I just don't want you getting hurt." Delia's tone lowers, we
know Angel's listening at the bottom step. Then there's a knock at the door.
She's here, I can feel her. My heart races, and before Angel has the door
open I'm by the bannister, with D, pulling me back, so I don't rush down and
forgive her right on the spot. "I know what you went through ... you told me.
Fai, have you thought to tell Buffy?" I cringe when the name tumbles from her
lips with malice lacing it. I shake my head.
"Where's Faith?" Her voice is still hard, not as hard as it was when I
got my shiner, but hard. "No, I don't know how she got it. I heard she took a
hard hit and came to check on her. I was patrolling else where. Angel, do I
look like I have time or patients to fuck around with you?" She's so angry.
Angry at him, at me, at Delia. She's mad at the world. I remember that
feeling, sent me right over the edge ... five years in prison. If I didn't
have Wilkin's probley would have been life. "Why don't you and *your*
girlfriend run along and do something, while me and mine deal. OK?" With that
she had by passed him and was taking the stairs two at a time. Delia was
beside me, when Buffy hit the landing. Trading dirty looks they waited for
someone to make the first move.
"Delia ... can I get you to come help me? Spike was with her..." Angel
sounds exasperated, but he's not. He's glad for the reason to get D out of
B's path. To save her the wrath of our tiny slayer. He also loves having
Spike around. I usually do too, Spike is like a big brother to me. I have to
avoid him whenever the marks are visible, unless I can pass them off as part
of a kinky game, like the time she used one of Beef Sticks belts. He left, no
one knows where, just took off, left his shit in B's apartment, and took off.
That was just after we came back. She blames me and Angel for that too.
"Room." The word is bearly spoken, and she brushes by me. Obediently I
fallow. The room is soundproofed. Every room is. I shudder visibly as she
slams the door, and locks it, then slides the deadbolt in. She installed it.
The door is heavy and solid. Sound proof. No human could get through it. This
way Angel can't get in without at least ten minutes warning. He's never
tried, but one day he just might. Not that he says anything about the marks.
No one does. Except Spike, who I have completely wrapped around my little
finger, he honestly believes I make B, blissfully happy. He doesn't know how
much I need her. How much I hunger for the soft touches between the hard
blows. The only thing that can mark a slayer for more then a night, is
another slay. Me... I learned that the hard way.
I was so caught up in my own thoughts I took a second to realize, her
tiny hand had my chin, looking at the eye. The swollen blue and black poof.
She runs the tip of a finger across it gently, but with enough pressure to
make me wince and hiss. I jerked but she held tight. "B, tha..." I saw her
compassion begin to shift and I hurried to correct my mistake. "I'm sorry.
About earlier, ya know... I just, I forget some times." I swallow the small
lump in my throat. My pride I think, at least what left of it. "I'm sorry,
OK?" I need her to forgive me. I need her to forgive me for pissing her off,
again. For making her so angry she hit me. Hit me a lot. I need her to
forgive me for making her so made she hit me and cracked two ribs and gave me
a black eye. I need her to forgive me for turning on her. For all the times I
hit her. For hitting Red. For hurting Xander. For hurting her. I need it.
This all this shit, it's cleansing. She does it, because deep down I need it.
She does too.
"Why can't you just do what you're sposed to Faith?" Her grip on my chin
has tightened. I want to warn her about leaving visible busies, but last
time, I ended up wearing long sleeves and pants in hundred degree weather.
I'm not sure if it was worth it. I go to apologize again, and he smacks me.
She didn't even have that look. The one that tells me to brace my self. I
feel blood trickle into my mouth. "You can't keep your mouth shut." I'm still
unsure what set her off tonight. I didn't dance. I was wearing jeans and a
shirt she'd given me for my birthday. Oddly enough it was black and blue with
tie-dyed hearts in matching colors. Not too much make up, hadn't spoken to
any one not with in her inner circle. "What were you and Tara talking about?"
Buffy glared down at me, somehow I'd made it to my knees. Yet another sore
point. That's what I'd done. Tara. Buffy didn't like her either. Tara stole
Willow. B's best friend. Willow lives with Tara now, has for years. They are
so happy it make you nauseous to be near them. But Tara with no Willow and no
Buffy around, means pain. For me. Willow doesn't like that we get along
either. Bet Tara doesn't get a black eye for it. I almost smile at the idea
of Willow hitting any one. Especially her Tara. I'm back handed to the floor,
and before I know it, B's covering my mouth.
We're in 69 position, but my jeans are locked tight and I have a feeling
they'll stay that way. I lick and suck, just the way she likes. Her fingers
dig into my knees as she cums hard. Something about beating the crap out of
me turns her on. Like killing vamps always has for me. I guess every one has
a kink. Standing on shaky legs, she gets up and strips crawling into my bed.
Smiling she just lays there in all her naked glory. I take my cloths off. But
put boxers and a T-shirt on. If any one did try to come in. And I was naked,
she'd kick my ass. Besides she likes to take my cloths off. I move onto the
bed. Pulling her body close, I curl around her, keeping her safe. She's mine
now. I won in the end. I get to do this at night. I get to hold her hand. I
get to kiss her. I get to taste her, and she calls out my name when she cums.
She's mine. I won. The tears in my eyes never fall and when she turns to look
at me, she has a smile on her face, cupping me her fingers teasing. I'm still
soaking from earlier. "B..." I gasp, when did my breathing shorten? Shaking
her head, she sighs. "Again, you just can't shut your fucking mouth Faith."
She growling as the sentence finishes and with all her strength she's
gripping and pushing, not tearing it. And it hurts, and I push against it,
afraid it's all I'll get. Afraid she'll take it away. And she does. Her
favorite toy buzzes to life, and I groan. I move to the end of the bed, and
she starts fucking herself. It drives me crazy to watch this. To want to be
the one to make her make those sounds, to make her arch off the bed. When she
says my name I'm there, licking sucking, biting, taking the vibrator from her
fingers and fucking her with it. Her legs for a death grip around my head.
She's bucking and, even buried here in my own personal heaven all I can feel
is how much my face hurts, the bruises. The black eye. I hurt worse, from her
death grip on my pussy. I'll be bruised there too. Something inside me hurts
worse then all the outside injuries. Something is throbbing in pain. Tears
fall down my face, mingling with her taste. And I create something new for
myself to feast upon.
She cums a second time and I crawl back to the head of the bed, curling
around her tiny body. Small shutters wrack her body as I turn off the toy and
remove it, putting it back in the bed side table drawer. "I love you, B." I
whisper, as she curls into me, making herself smaller. She never answers me.
Some times I get a physical response. Tonight she bites down on my nipple,
hard as she can, without drawing blood. Tears fall again, landing on my
pillow. I hold her and cry silently. She has always been able to make me cry.
But I can't find the anger to fight the tears I once had. Because when all is
said and done, I don't deserve her or the life I have. I don't deserve any of it.