Title: Black & Pink

Author: Kora

E-mail: KrazyKora@aol.com or WinterViolet24@aol.com

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to WWE, Joss Whedon, UPN, and Mutant Enemy and all the people and companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the characters for my own twisted enjoyment.

Why I chose to crossover Buffy and the WWE, I will never know, much less why I went with the coupling of Bret Hart and Faith, but, eh, why the heck not? This idea came and I was too charged not to write it.

This, of course, is total AU. I throw Bret in after the screwjob at Survivor Series and Faith in not long after she and Buffy had their falling out in Season 3. Enjoy the strangeness.

------------------------------

They’d been worried about his drinking.

Fuck them.

This was the exact venomous thinking that fired through Bret Hart’s mind as he took hold of the shot of whiskey before him and chugged it down in a flash, slamming the glass down on the counter with a loud ‘tink’ sound. It took him a second to realize he’d broken the glass. He cursed and tossed the broken pieces aside. Some small particles got caught in the palm of his hand and he hissed. He couldn’t feel any pain at the moment but he knew it had to hurt. He tried to pluck out the glass splinters but his mind was too fogged with alcohol to think clearly. The same could be said for his eyes, which were having a devil of a time trying to focus on his wound.

He could see the blood as well as some shiny mess but otherwise it was all blurred. How much whiskey had he drank? How much beer before that? A sloppy grin took his face and he waved a hand at no one in particular. Who cared. He’d been screwed. Heavily screwed.

Shawn Michaels, that piece of shit Vince McMahon...

They had taken him, bent him over, and totally screwed him in the ass. They’d taken the belt-stripped it...no, no ripped it-from him right before his fans’ eyes in this cheap set up. They’d said he’d tapped out, tapped out to his own fucking move! He repeated his earlier sediments:

Fuck them.

There had been no 1, 2, 3. There had just been a big screwjob. Just because he was going to WCW. Wasn’t it Vince who said he was fine with the whole thing? Wasn’t it Michaels, that son of a bitch he despised, who had actually had the gall to look at him before the match and wish him luck. Those bastards. Those motherfucking...

Bret hissed as he finally managed to grab one chunk of glass and draw it out. He tossed it to the floor of the dark, gritty biker bar and then released a loud belch unexpectedly. He chuckled at that in his current drunken state and pushed the anger from his mind. Forget about McMahon. Forget about Michaels and the screwjob. Forget about the WWF. He’d show them all. His fans were behind him. He’d do better in WCW anyway. Things were just moving up as far as he was concerned.

That didn’t change the fact, of course, that his family was worried about his drinking.

He scowled at that. People were always so jealous of how close the Hart family was but this was only because they weren’t in it. If they were, they’d see how stifling it all really was. He loved them with all his heart but every now and then he just needed a fresh breath of air. Needed to step back and be alone. It had taken all his resourcefulness just to get out tonight. To sneak away to this shitty bar in the middle of no where and get himself some drinks without one of his brothers tailing him or showing up to drag him home.

So here he was in Sunnydale, California at this dank little biker bar having himself a drink. He had gotten a hotel room and had money on hand. He wanted to just have one night to himself. One night out alone to drink and get over his sorrows then go to a room where he could be alone to sleep it off. He promised himself that when he woke up the next day things’d be better and he’d never look back. It had been a good plan.

Unfortunately, plans have the nasty tendency to change real fast.

He was still contemplating his bleeding hand when the smell of gardenias and black and mild cigars passed his nose. It was a strange combination and he sniffed at it for a moment or two before he raised his head. The scent was coming from a woman who had just walked in and Bret stared at her with complete absorption.

She had the most amazing body. All curves. Her hips and breasts were luscious, made for a man’s hands. Bret was used to seeing gorgeous women in his line of work but this little thing took the cake. Her hair was a dark halo of brown curls that looked almost black. Her eyes were dark too, a deep brown. Her make-up and clothes went along this line as well, all dark blacks and browns. She wore a leather jacket as well as leather pants-leather pants. He couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing leather pants. They hugged her body good, too. And her top was some pulled back halter thing, sparkly and showing off the right amount of cleavage, Her skin was pale and creamy and those lips of hers...pink and with that bee-stung kiss-me look.

She walked with determination and as she got closer he could tell she was young. Very young. Maybe a teenager even. She caught him eyeing her and gave a knowing smile. It was sexy as hell. She sauntered over and took a seat next to him. She avoided his eyes and grabbed the bartender’s arm, "I’ll take a shot of rum, Jack."

"We don’t serve minors," The bartender said gruffly.

The girl’s grip tightened on the man’s arm, her eyes deadly as she said steely, "Oh I think you do now, Jack," she drew out his name just a little too long and cocked her head to one side, "You don’t know me?"

"Should I?" the bartender asked.

The girl grinned and pulled back her jacket, Bret couldn’t see what was inside but he caught the reaction of the bartender who swallowed thickly, he tried to whisper and it would have been affective too, with the loud music, no one would have heard. Bret heard though, considering he was only a few inches away. He heard the man whisper, "I don’t want no trouble here. The last thing we need in this place is a slayer snooping around. You trying to get yourself killed, pretty lady?"

"No," the girl said with some irritation, "I’m trying to get a drink. Now ante up."

The bartender sighed in surrender, "Rum coming up."

The girl grinned and released his arm, patting it lightly, "That’s my guy. Oh and Jack? Drinks are on the house, right?"

"You bet," Jack squeaked and sauntered off.

The drink came quickly and she shot it down like a pro. Bret had to give her some credit. She had handled the bartender like a piece of meat and took the drink like a fish. It was impressive for someone so young to be so strong. Or at least act it to perfection. It reminded him of himself a great deal. The girl looked back over at him through those heavy lids of hers and gave the most dazzling smile, "Saw you checking me out when I walked in."

"Did you?" Bret asked idly. He hoped to God his breath didn’t reek too bad as she leaned in closer, the smell of her growing stronger as she purred, "Uh huh."

"So what’s your verdict?"

"Oh I liked it, always do. It’s all five by five with me."

A notch formed between Bret’s eyes, he was too smashed to translate the meaning of this slang and merely repeated, "Five by five?"

"It means everything’s cool," the girl supplied with a smile, "What’s your name?"

"Bret Hart, you?"

"Faith."

"Faith..." he dragged out, waiting for a last name.

"Just Faith."

"Like Cher."

"Bingo, handsome," she said, that sparkling smile still in place to dazzle him. And hell if it wasn’t working. She held out her petite black-nail-polished hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure’s all mine," Bret said and held out his hand in return.

"I usually say that. Looks like you’re my kind of guy," Faith chuckled. She was about to take his hand when realization suddenly dawned on Bret and he drew back his hand, "Oh wait, you prob’bly don’t want to shake this hand. ‘S got broken glass in it."

"What?" Faith asked with a frown, the most adorable look of confusion taking her face. Bret grinned at it. Shit, she was cute beyond belief. She took firm hold of the hand he had earlier offered and looked it over, "Oh shit! Look at this mess!"

She hissed in pain, as if it was the glass embedded in her own flesh and she looked up at him with sympathetic eyes, "Let me help you out, bud."

She gently began to weed out the glass and he watched her lazily. It was funny. Here she had been a few minutes ago. A complete bad ass, all these walls and toughness up and now she was nursing over him like a mother hen. He even commented on this and she laughed, "Yeah, well usually I’m a real bitch. Normally, situation like this, I’d tell you to take this and fuck off. Or shove it up your ass or some bullshit like that but tonight...I don’t know. I’m in a good enough mood. ‘Sides, you seem decent enough, even if you are in a bar like this."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Bret asked in confusion.

"Well this is a demon bar, right? What are you? A vamp a werewolf or some other baddie with icky features."

"I have NO idea what you’re talking about," Bret muttered and rubbed his head with his free hand. Her words confusing his all ready drunken mind when the bartender suddenly appeared again, pouring both him and Faith new drinks, "Ma’am, he’s no demon. He’s a professional wrestler actually. Pretty famous too. That’s why no one’s messing with him. That sports entertainment stuff is real hot down here, you know? He’s getting his drinks on the house too."

Bret frowned, "I am."

"Sure, you’re Bret Hart," the bartender said, practically glowing, "I’m a big fan, Mr. Hart. I would have gushed all over you when you came in but...heck, I figured I’d just act as if you were anybody else. Most of the guys in the bar have been restraining themselves too. We’re all big fans here. Saw what happened at that Survivor Series. Crock of crap was what it was. You say the word and any guy in this bar’ll go and kill, suck dry, or eat any of the guy who screwed you over."

Bret was completely lost now, "What?"

"Oh Jesus, shut up, Jack! This guys a normal person, 'kay? He doesn’t know about this other world shit and doesn’t need to. Just leave him alone."

"You’re right. I’m sorry," the bartender muttered, "Don’t know what came over me."

He wandered off and Faith shook her head, returning her eyes to her work. Bret looked at her, frown still fixed firmly in place, "What the hell are you guys all talking about?"

Faith looked up at him and the look she gave made him feel warm all over, "Nothing. Just stupid sci-fi stuff you know? Lots of guys here into that. Just like wrestling. You with that WWF thing?"

"Yeah, that. I was, with another company now. Bret ‘The Hitman’ Hart? Master of Execution?"

Faith snapped her fingers, "Oh yeah! I’ve heard of you! Think I’ve seen one of your matches too. You were fighting this guy...Michaels something other. Man, was he one hot son of a bitch! All that brown hair and those eyes, that grin...damn."

Bret scowled, "Yeah, most girls say that."

Faith looked at him, "But you’re way cuter."

Bret felt a smile pick at his lips as Faith finished removing the glass. She found a couple napkins nearby and fashioned a quick bandage around his hand, "Mind if I ask how you did this?"

"Broke a shot glass."

"Hmm."

"Got angry."

"Yeah?" Faith asked and licked her lips, "You strong?"

Bret shrugged.

"Let’s see then," Faith said, waving a hand at him.

Bret looked around, "See what?"

"You’re wearing a huge friggin’ raincoat, stud! What’s under all that?"

Bret laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at her, "I show you mine you show me yours."

"Fair enough," Faith said huskily as she reached out a hand to pluck at his jacket, "You go first."

Bret sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Why not? He stood up and shrugged off the jacket. He was wearing his tights underneath, that was why he’d thrown on the coat. He’d been working out with his brothers in Los Angeles-a vacation before he reported to WCW-and had just left the gym they were working out in-still in gear and all. And had come this way.

He was worried Faith would react strangely but to his surprise she was more than pleased, a hungry look on her face, "Damn, you’re a big boy."

Bret chuckled and sat back down, pulling the coat back on. Faith reached out tentatively and gripped his arm. She squeezed and he could tell she was feeling up his muscles. He just sat back and enjoyed it, watching her with utter amusement. She let out a low appreciative whistle, "Nice body you got there."

"You could say the same yourself," he complimented.

"Yeah, I guess so," Faith said with a shrug, "Like your tights."

Bret blinked, trying to think how to take that comment but just settled on, "Thank you."

"Takes a real man to wear pink," she commented, a wry smile on her face, "Especially that shade of pink,"

He glared at her but couldn’t stay mad when he saw the enjoyment on her face. She was just teasing him. He noted the new drink before him as did she and they both took a shot. They returned to talking and conversed for quite sometime about this and that. They had a few things in common-betrayal mostly. Both of them had come here for basically the same purpose and by the same motivation.

Faith understood his anger over the situation with Survivor Series, Vince, Shawn, and the WWF company while he in turn agreed that she had every right to be angry with this group of people/friends she had made who isolated her and made her feel left out. Made her feel as if she’d never belong or be allowed into their ‘circle’. Most of her anger was directed at some girl named Buffy and he easily related it back to Shawn. They both came up with ways for their significant other to die miserably and laughed about that for a good hour.

Then their talk went on to other topics, such as Faith’s past fights. Turned out the little thing was quite a scrapper. She told him in great detail about several altercations she’d been in and he found himself believing every word. It was hard to imagine, a little thing like her, but he could see it. She was young but she had this age in her eyes-life, obviously, had not been too kind.

There was something else in her eyes too though-past the pain and age-there was this rim of gold dancing around the brown. He found it to be her most attractive feature. Despite her words and bravado, it was obvious that somewhere deep inside, carefully buried and locked away, was this sweet girl. He wished suddenly that she’d drop the act and show him that girl but he knew that was foolish. He had just met her. Besides, she was too tough and he was too drunk.

They were having a good time when suddenly someone walked over and tapped Bret’s shoulder. He turned and saw a huge biker there. He looked just like every other rough neck and lowlife in the bar but he obviously had an agenda in mind as he eyed Bret with dark eyes. He was big not just in muscle mass but in height, actually towering over Bret. He could have been a wrestler himself if he wanted, with his skinned head and tattoos covering most of his flesh, he jabbed a rough finger into Bret’s chest, "I heard you’re Bret Hart."

"That’d be me," Bret muttered and rose to his feet, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can give me the money I lost by betting on you at Survivor Series."

Bret frowned, "You bet on a wrestling match?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"

"No, no, I just..." Bret didn’t get to finish before the biker grabbed the lapels of his trenchcoat and dragged him over violently, shaking him as his stinking breath brushed his face hotly, "I didn’t ask for your conversation! I asked for my damn money!"

"Let him go!"

Both men turned to see that Faith had leapt off her bar stool, her hands clenched. She looked more than ready to fight, a dark scowl on her face. Bret turned and looked at her with some surprise. Hell, she was even more attractive looking when she was angry. The biker growled, "This has nothing to do with you, cutie. Why don’t you go back to your drink. I’ll deal with him and when I’m done, maybe I can take care of you. You like power between your legs?"

"I like real live men between my legs and something tells me your not of that variety if you catch my drift. Just an inkling, ya know? Now why don’t you be a good boy and let my friend go before you end up eating wood."

Bret didn’t quite get the last insult but apparently the big biker did and he narrowed his eyes at her, "Who are you?"

Faith reached into her jacket and drew out a sharpened hunk of wood, "I’m Faith, the Vampire Slayer and your a pile of dust waiting to happen."

The biker hissed and for a second Bret could have sworn he saw his face transform into some hideous monster thing. But he didn’t have long to contemplate it as the biker tossed him aside with inhuman strength. Bret flew across the bar and smacked into a wall. He slid to the floor and shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. The biker had tossed him like a rag doll. He slapped a hand to his face and tried to focus.

What he saw was unbelievable. He’d believed Faith when she’d talked about the fights she’d been in but now...well, if he’d had any doubts that the stories she had told him were true, she cemented them now. She moved with a strength, speed, and ferocity he didn’t know was capable for a woman. She was beating the living pulp out of the biker. Tossing him here and there, even sending the big lug through a pool table. Bret shook his head at that, still dizzy when he heard a shortened cry.

When he looked back Faith was standing up from a cloud of dust, a hunk of wood in hand. She brushed herself off and quickly rushed over to his side. She knelt down, "You okay?"

"Think so. Help me up?" Bret asked and held out his one hand, the other clutching to the back of his head. Faith helped him to his feet and he looked around, "Where’d the biker go?"

"Oh...um...I took care of him. Come on, let’s get some oxygen in you," Faith said and wrapped her arms around him, leading him out. The bartender called after them, nothing but apologies for Bret and curses for Faith but they both ignored him. More eager to get outside. Once they were there they stood in silence, breathing in the fresh air, Bret asked curiously, "What did you call yourself in there?"

Faith actually blushed and Bret was stunned. He had the feeling that didn’t happen often and she bounced from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable, "Vampire Slayer it’s...what I do. Let’s not talk about it, okay? I mean, you know what I like about you, Bret? The best thing? I mean besides your great looks and delicious hot bod? I like that you’re not from around here. That you’re...normal you know? You don’t know shit about me really but you trust me like...I just like it. It’s nice and I don’t want to complicate things."

Bret shrugged, "Fair enough."

Faith gave him that amazing smile again and closed in on him. He caught that scent of her again and it made him feel like his feet were falling out from under him. She reached up and brushed a hand along his cheek. It was as cold as ice but felt undeniably good. He shivered in place, his eyes locking with hers, she got up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek, then got back down. She took hold of his hand, "You’ve had a lot to drink, big boy. I think it’d best if I see you home."

_*_

They stumbled into the hotel room. He had bearly gotten the door open and he had a hell of a time closing the door behind them as they continued to kiss frantically. Once he got the door closed they fell back against it; him pinned beneath her and her hungry mouth. Jesus was she insatiable. Not that he wasn’t the same. It had happened somewhere between the ride home and entering the hotel but somehow-out of nowhere-they had ended up kissing and hadn’t stopped. It had started off slow and sweet and then evolved into what it was now-a fast, ravenous meeting of mouths. Tongues and teeth and lips clashing with each other for dominance.

Bret actually found himself moaning. He never moaned. At least not when it came to making out. But when it came to this woman he couldn’t seem to turn the sounds off. She too, seemed eager as noises poured out of her. He could tell the volume and intensity of her reaction shocked her too. He flipped their positions, pressing her against the door, his mouth latching onto her neck. He was sucking, biting. He’d probably leave marks but she didn’t seem to mind, her fingers tangled in his hair as she panted, "Oh god...Bret...shit...you’re-you’re good."

He pulled his mouth away, "You’re," he took in a breath, finding he hadn’t taken a good breath in quite a while, "You’re good yourself."

"I’ve never wanted to fuck so badly in all my life," she hissed and tore off his trenchcoat.

"Christ, you got a dirty mouth, girl,"

"You want to clean it out for me?" Faith purred, rocking her hips into him as she edged her mouth close to his. Bret felt her lips melt against his as he kissed her again. The room felt like its heat was cranked up all the way and suddenly he felt one of Faith’s legs rise up to wrap around his waist and draw him closer. He groaned and moved in, his erection rubbing up against her. She hissed in pleasure, her eyes squeezing closed tighter and he drew his mouth away, still lost on breath, "You’re...you’re not..."

"I don’t have STDs, AIDS, I’m on the pill, I’m legal, and I am so fucking yours so let’s go." She whimpered, rocking against him.

Now it was Bret’s turn to hiss. Lord if she didn’t know how to push all the right buttons, still he kept his cool to a certain degree, "Me too but...you promise."

"What?"

"I don’t normally do this you know and I don’t even really know..."

Faith stopped and looked into his eyes, her face serious. She cupped his face, "Trust me."

The way she said it...

It was obvious she didn’t ask this much. Obvious this was a big thing for her to ask. The vulnerability he had seen below the surface of her eyes swam up in full force now. He could tell she didn’t often ask people to trust her and when they did they let her down, saying they couldn’t. But he did and he told her so. She relaxed against him, her face pressing into his neck and suddenly some of the heat seemed to abate. Bret ran a hand through her hair, petting her head lightly then rested a hand on her scalp, easing her head back until he could look into her face. His eyes searched hers then he lowered his mouth, kissing her again.

This kiss was different than any they’d shared that night. It had meaning. When he drew away he ran a loving thumb along her cheekbone, "You sure you still want to..."

"More than anything," she whispered softly and caught his mouth again. The forgotten heat started to thunder its way back. It wasn’t as violent as before but it was still hungry as hell. He removed her jacket and his fingers danced down her sides, finding the end of her shirt and dragging it up over her head to toss to the side. She eased off the top straps of his outfit then wrapped her arms around him so their bare fronts could press together. Her pert breasts smashing against his chest was as pleasurable a sensation for him as it was for her, both of them moaning at the feeling, their mouths meeting again. They continued to strip away clothes until they ended up on his bed, both naked and hot and eager.

The viciousness from earlier was beginning to return now too in full force. He had always been a gentlemen in the bedroom. It had never been fast or hard between him and a woman. But that was different when it came to Faith. Any other woman he would have been afraid of hurting but Faith-she was strong. She wouldn’t break. And hell, she liked it. There wasn’t much foreplay-there didn’t need to be. She was wet and hot and so ready that he just slid inside and began to move. She responded in force, rocking her hips against his so savagely that he felt like he had to increase the speed of his thrusts to keep up with her.

They were both coated in sweat, the room filled with the scent of sex and a deafening amount of noise. From their cries to the sound of the bed ramming into the wall behind them. He could hear neighbors shouting out complaints and pounding somewhere but he could have cared less. If anything he moved faster, feeling his climax approaching. The woman in his arms was just as fervent, her nails scratching his back and her body thrashing beneath him. He was positive the bed was going to break under the strain and punishment they were giving it. At last he seemed to explode, his body bursting as his climax hit.

She came not long after, howling in her passion and he collapsed on her, burying himself in her arms. The only sound now was their soft panting and Bret leaned up as best he could, idly kissing Faith’s jaw before falling limply against her again. Worn out.

_*_

He blacked out for a while and when he came too, Faith was watching him curiously, her fingers playing with his hair. He grinned and leaned up on one elbow, "I thought I’d dreamed you."

"Me?"

"Hmm, girl as pretty as you could only exist in a dream, right?" Bret asked.

Faith laughed, "Smooth talker."

"Learned."

"Good skill to have."

Bret nodded and leaned in, kissing her softly. She sighed and when he pulled away he shook his head and fell back, looking up at the ceiling, "I can’t believe I...that we just did that."

"It was intense," Faith agreed, then grinned, "I can’t believe I stayed."

Bret sat back up to look at her, "What?"

Faith shrugged, "I stayed. Usually after a guy and I...I leave."

Bret frowned and looked at her, "Why?"

She shrugged again, "What’s the point of staying? I’ve got what I’ve wanted; he’s got what he’s wanted. I don’t have any expectations. I don’t expect true love or some such bullshit. This stuff doesn’t work that way. But even though I realize that, that doesn’t mean I’m eager to stick around afterwards and think about...you know, that never happening. Better to leave, you know?"

Bret merely looked at her and she laughed bitterly, "Can’t believe I told you that. I keep surprising myself tonight."

Bret drew her close and kissed her gently. Once he drew away she looked at him with wide, confused eyes, "What was that for?"

He grinned, "For you."

She looked down, a tiny smile on her face, obviously touched. He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face up so he could met her eyes, ‘Hey, I may have only met you tonight and I may not know much about you...but from what I’ve seen, you’re tough. You’re strong. You don’t always make all the right decision but who does. My bet? You’re a decent person under there. You just got to get past all this darkness and get to the good stuff, that’s all. It’ll take some hard work and time, but you’ll get there."

"What makes you say that?"

Bret shrugged, "Because I did it."

Faith nodded and settled back into the bed with him, "I’ll leave in a little bit."

Bret pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, "You can stay as long as you want."

_*_

When he woke up next she was gone. The room was a wreck but considering the great time they had, he could have cared less. It was funny but the sex had actually helped a great deal. Bret found himself rejuvenated. Perhaps he had needed to release that pent up aggression in him. He’d tried exercise and that hadn’t worked. Apprently though sex did. Sex with Faith especially. It was more vigorous than a work out any day.

There was, of course, still the trouble of his hangover and subsequential headache but Bret found that even these things couldn’t keep him down. The meeting with Faith had brought some light and life that he’d seriously needed. That he’d been lacking. He knew somewhere inside him he should have felt horrible. Anonymous one-night stand sex with some stranger, not even just a stranger, but a girl who had to be at least eighteen, maybe even younger. He should have been disgusted with himself, berating himself but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

No, it had been a therapeutic night for the both of them. Two lonely souls in need of someone new. He found a note address to him and picked it up curiously. He read it and laughed, pocketing it to keep. As he left the hotel room he read over it one last time:

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