Buffy slowly moved her hand up to touch Faith’s face, but Faith flinched. There was fear in her eyes as she watched Buffy. As they both waited for their lips to meet again, more conclusively. It made Buffy pull back slightly, green eyes weaving into brown as they searched for answers, reasons, and hope.
The air around them shifted, a gentle breeze blowing over them causing the blanket to ripple. Buffy felt the edges of the dream blur, but she gripped onto it. She didn’t want to be back on a cold rock, in a desert, lost and needing to treat Faith badly to make herself feel better.
Buffy lifted her hand again, her eyes fixed on Faith. Faith didn’t flinch this time, even though she was completely confused as to what was happening. She thought she’d see where it went. See where Buffy took them. She was aware that this wasn’t a normal slayer dream. They had never touched in one of those, not through lack of trying on her part. Faith could also feel the hard rock beneath her back, despite the fact they were still in the bed.
A soft sigh escaped Buffy as she brought her face closer to Faith’s once more, her hand cupping her cheek. She stopped all thoughts. Stopped all cares as their mouths met again. She brushed her lips slowly over Faith’s and Faith tempted back.
She couldn’t taste her lips, couldn’t smell the rising heat from Faith. All that was there was a haunting scent of fresh blood. It almost made her leap back, away from Faith and whatever it was insisting she kiss her at that moment. But she didn’t, instead kissing Faith a little deeper, her tongue flicking out over the delicate crevice in her lower lip before it slipped into Faith’s mouth.
Their lips moved across each other painfully slow. Hot breaths escaping and mingling as Buffy told herself it was just a dream. That the hard surface beneath her wasn’t there. That the desert wind wasn’t blowing through her hair.
She closed her eyes, feeling Faith’s tongue wet against her own. There was no hunger. No lust. Just a deep need that neither of them understood. As if being played like pawns in a game, they had no control over their actions towards one another. The lines between reality and dream, truth and fantasy blurred too much for either girl to see.
There would be no seeing, no knowing, and no questions right now. Faith moved her hand up into Buffy’s hair at the back of her neck, feeling it flow over her fingers even though she knew it was tied up in a ponytail. Her mouth was eager yet slow and smooth over Buffy’s. Her body charged. Charged in a way it always was around her, but now it was seeking something more. More than fighting. More than pain.
Buffy slipped her tongue around Faith’s, tender warmth and wetness sending a shiver down her spine. She had never felt so much need before. Never felt so much abandonment. Her mind and her body lay stripped of its senses and memories. Their lips yielded to each other. Bodies falling into a comfortable mesh of skin and muscle, of hearts pounding and rumbling like thunder.
Faith gave up hope of pushing Buffy away. She couldn’t. She couldn’t even bring herself to think about doing it. There was no use pretending like she hadn’t always wanted Buffy. Something inside her had always yearned for her. Always called out only to be rebuffed.
She breathed hot and heavy into Buffy’s mouth as Buffy moved her hand from her cheek and down. Down over soft skin and erect nipples, down over her stomach as it jumped at the touch, down to the slight covering of hair that she liked to keep trim and sparse.
Faith closed her eyes, staying in the dream despite the world around her threatening to spill into it and destroy it. She heard a moan escape her own throat as Buffy’s fingers parted the lips of her pussy as they explored. As they searched and sought her wetness. The testimony to her desire for Buffy. Her secrets laid out, exposed.
Buffy kissed Faith unhurriedly as she moaned at her touch. She didn’t know why she was doing what she was. Why she was allowing herself to indulge and to go against everything she’d held true. It was as if their shared dreams peeled away the layers they hid themselves behind. Like they couldn’t hide when they connected as slayers. They were naked to each other, in more ways than one. In every way.
It had always been that way, but before. . .there had always been a barrier, a release from the dream when they tried to make contact. There was no such release this time, and Buffy had permitted herself to follow her own lead. She let go, a deep part of her kicking and screaming and yelling no. A deeper part spurring her on.
Faith shuddered beneath her as her fingers found a well of desire. Faith was hot and wet, and Buffy wished so much that she could smell it. Her own body responded, mimicking Faith’s in its wetness. A strong thigh between her legs a teasing reminder of who she was with.
She covered her fingertips in Faith’s arousal, not questioning why Faith wasn’t throwing her off. Not looking beyond what she could feel, what she wanted right then. Nothing mattered right then other than her fingers and Faith’s reactions. Their lips and tongues. Their breaths. Their need to cling to their dream.
She brought her slick fingers up a little, sliding them over the hard clit, so swollen for her. Needing her. Calling out for her as she felt how they were both aching.
Aching after so long. So long they had wanted.
Buffy rubbed over Faith feeling the scrape of denim at the back of her hand. She refused to acknowledge it, choosing instead to filter her eyes so all she could see was Faith beneath her as she lay slightly to the younger girl’s side, the now moist thigh still flexing between Buffy’s legs.
Faith whimpered in delicious moans, her hips rising to each stroke of Buffy’s fingers over her clit. She shut off her mind and just felt. She could feel her sticky wet juices seeping from herself as Buffy teased her perfectly. So wet. So ready for Buffy.
When she opened her eyes she saw stone and darkness, but when she closed them she saw nothing but white. Nothing but Buffy’s blonde hair draping over her, as she leaned down to kiss her once more.
Buffy circled her fingertips faster, over and around Faith’s clit as she began to shudder for her. Faith’s hot breath mingled with her own as she swallowed the little gasps and the heady groans as they kissed open mouthed and needy. Each shudder sent a jolt through Buffy and she felt Faith begin to climax against her fingers. Against her body. Against her soul.
She pushed out the weighty thoughts from her head and concentrated on Faith, and on her fingers, slick with Faith’s pussy. Warm and dripping and needing her touch. The swollen, hard point of Buffy’s focus driving her fingers on as the enchanting feel of it caused her mind to fray at the edges.
Faith was hard for her. Wet for her. Grasping at her as she touched and touched, and felt herself slip beneath a sea of longing as Faith reacted to everything she did.
A final burst. A final moan into her mouth and grasp at her back and Faith was done.
Faith clasped her legs together, trapping Buffy’s hand and her thigh between hers. She couldn’t see or think past the swirling colours in her mind, or the feeling of Buffy pressed against her, her fingers still hidden in her wet, trembling pussy.
There were a hundred whys in Faith’s head, waiting for their moment. A hundred confused mumbles wanting to know when she had become such a bottom and Buffy such a force of desire. Head shaking mutterings about what was happening. About Buffy. About herself.
Her voice failed her. Faith couldn’t speak, all that was left was more need. More Buffy causing her life to spiral in circles, sending her this way and that, never knowing which way was right and wrong.
Faith couldn’t even be sure if they were still dreaming, and at what point the dream slipped into reality. She lay, waiting once more for Buffy to take the lead. Her instincts, her body, the raging fire within her all insisted that she respond by curling her own fingers around Buffy’s clit and sending her cashing over the edge into the same pit with her. But something told Faith that it would be a mistake.
Whatever it was that had driven Buffy to do what she had, she wasn’t looking for reciprocation. Her body was slumped on Faith’s, seemingly sated in its own way. The soft breaths over Faith’s ear indicating that she had fallen back to sleep. Indicating that their slayer dream had ended sooner than probably either one of them had realised.
Faith closed her eyes after witnessing the first glint of a new day in their desert landscape. She relaxed back onto the hard surface, her thighs no longer clasping onto Buffy, but her arm still thrown around her. She didn’t want to let go. . .not just yet. Buffy’s fingers remained covered in her sticky arousal, resting in her pussy, and Faith wasn’t going to remove them.
Whatever was happening. . .it was for a reason. If Buffy was going to wake and freak out, then Faith would be ready for it. She always was.
* * *
Xander tripped over a shattered piece of wood as he entered Giles’ home. His box of donuts almost spilled to the floor, but ever the master juggler, he responded just in time and managed to set them on the coffee table.
Grabbing one from the top and stuffing it in his mouth he finally looked around. The piece of wood that had tried to foil his attempt to be the deliverer of donuts was due to the fact the door was broken.
“That can’t be good,” he murmured to himself around a mouthful of sugar-y goodness.
To his left, in a space that had been cleared on the floor, two girls lay side by side holding hands. He blinked and recognised the circle of candles around them was something witchy. Something Tara and Willow knew far more about than he ever hoped to.
It was just another day in Sunnydale. Broken doors, witchery, some impending doom or prophecy, and the call for him to come and help. He was good at helping. He prided himself on his helping skills. Xander was an expert in the field of help.
He stepped over his catatonic friends, knocking over and extinguishing a candle on the way, and went in search of Giles, donut still crammed in his mouth.
“Hey, Gilester. . .did you know you’ve got people taking a nap in there?” he said, spraying little chunks of donut onto his shirt as he rounded the corner and found the Watcher in his kitchen. “It’s a good job you called. . .we can’t let sleep get in the way of. . .of. . .what exactly is it that we’re doing?” he asked, realising he had no idea what was going on.
“You’re eating the jelly one?” Giles enquired before acknowledging Xander’s question.
“Um,” Xander blinked, wondering if offering Giles the half-eaten donut would soften the blow. He hadn’t meant to eat it, it had just happened to be on the top of the pile, looking delicious and enticing.
“Never mind,” Giles sighed, feeling like the respect he deserved was terribly misplaced. “We have more important things to think about, and to do.”
“Well, I’m here, ready to save the day.” Xander grinned and wiped the crumbs from his chin.
“I fear we need more than your jelly donut eating skills, Xander. In fact, we’re in rather a pickle. Or at least Buffy and Faith are,” he indicated as they made their way back into the living room.
The air around the two witches had a strange blue hue as they lay meditating and linking themselves to the mystical energy emitted from their circle. He could hear Tara whispering words of comfort to Willow. His faith in them was unquestionable. His belief in Willow and her power sure and certain.
She had grown under Tara’s influence. She had more to give than she could ever imagine. Giles hoped Willow would always have the strength to remain out of the darkness of magic. The darkness was alluring and would mean certain devastation if Willow was pulled into it. He hoped she would never cross the line into the dark arts, for all their sakes.
“Whoa, did you just say Faith?” Xander stuttered, his eyes wide in fear as he followed Giles. “She’s here? She’s. . .did she hurt Buffy?”
“No, Xander. She hasn’t hurt Buffy,” Giles assured, turning to his recent notes and settling down to read through them once more.
Willow disentangled herself from her daze upon hearing Xander’s anxiety laden voice. She squeezed Tara’s hand and they both sat up, their eyes twinkling with the remnants of pure white light.
“Faith has been staying with Giles to get better. I can’t say I’m jumping for joy about it, but. . .Giles has made me see that she’s just a messed up kid that got lost and scared,” Willow said, crossing her legs in the circle of candles around her.
“Sure, cos when I get lost I start killing people too,” Xander said, his voice vibrating into a rather unattractive squeak. “Only yesterday I was wandering around the Mall, trying to find my favourite shop when whammo, I realised I was lost and began mutilating people to get my bearings.”
“Enough of that, Xander,” Giles said sternly, looking over the top of his glasses at Xander. “We have important work to do. I assure you Faith poses no threat to either Buffy or us.”
Xander did his best to stop the twitching in his leg. Faith back in Sunnydale was not giving him warm fuzzy feelings. He had liked her. . .once, but when she’d turned on him he’d looked right into the eyes of death, and he’d never been so scared in his life. The little boy inside him wanted to run home and lock himself in the closet. But in Sunnydale there was no running, and monsters knew how to open closets. They had keys.
“So, where is she?” he asked, his voice still a little shaky.
“Well,” Giles began, lifting his glasses from his nose, “we’re pretty sure she’s with Buffy, in a dimension other than this one, placed there by a very old and powerful book. By all accounts it isn’t a place we should leave them for very long, and we can’t rely on them being slayers to get them out. We think we can tap into the mystical energy of this other world, and hopefully pull them out before any harm is done.”
“So, she’s not here then?” Xander questioned, looking around furtively whilst trying to understand what Giles was saying.
“No, Xander, she’s not, and neither is Buffy,” Willow pointed out, impatient with Xander’s fear. “Buffy’s in danger, and Faith isn’t the one we have to worry about, it’s. . .well, it’s monsters eating them from the ground, some crazy guy making them crazier than him, and them being trapped, forever, in some kind of evil purgatory hell where they’ll get judged and tortured and. . .”
Tara rested her hand lightly on Willow’s knee, quashing the panic beginning to take hold of her. She took a breath, trying to remember how to stay positive. Recalling what Tara had mentioned about the magical rifts that weaved through dimensions and how they could help.
They were planning to try to locate the slayers through one of the rifts, and with luck bring them back home, but there were countless rifts, and a very real chance that any rescue attempt would prove fruitless.
“We’ll get Buff back though right? I mean. . .we’ve been in tighter spots than this I’m sure,” Xander said, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t just heard some very bad news.
“I’m afraid this is quite serious, Xander,” Giles confirmed. “These magical rifts are our only probable link to this world they’re trapped in, and as Willow said, there are many to sift through before we find the correct one. If we find the correct one at all.” Placing his notes down on the coffee table next to the forgotten donuts, Giles continued on gravely, “Even then, the chances we can get them through it back to our own dimension are very slim. It requires strong witchcraft, some items we thankfully posses, and. . .a great deal of luck.”
“We have luck though, right?” Xander tried to establish, real worry creasing his brow as his eyes darted from Giles to Willow.
“We have luck, Xander,” Willow tried to reassure. “But. . .there’s a chance the rift could kill them, in some not very nice ways I’m trying not to think about.”
Xander began to pace. He didn’t like the sound of not very nice death. It sounded too risky to him. Buffy couldn’t die, she was the slayer. She’d been through worse. She’d defeated everything thrown at her. . .even Faith.
The thought of Faith came back to the forefront of his mind.
“And she’s trapped there with Faith,” he said aloud. “That can’t be good. I mean. . .what happens if. . .what if they?” Xander couldn’t finish his sentence. He was beside himself with worry now. His mind racing with possible car crash scenarios. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back,” he said, his voice firm and sure. “We have to get her back.”
* * *
As daylight seeped in past her eyelids, Buffy slowly opened her eyes. She blinked as the sun bathed her in light, temporarily blinding her as her pupils adjusted. The hard unyielding rock beneath her reminded her why she hated camping, as her body began to unfreeze from its stiff position.
She looked down as her sight began to clear. The dark hair draped across the stone surface, the strong, defined features a portrait across the backdrop, the dark clothes, the soft breathing of sleep. Buffy took in the sight of Faith lying prone and unprotected next to her, and her breath caught in her throat.
She moved her hand, feeling the burn of a zipper across the back of it. Buffy closed her eyes, unsure if she felt disgust with herself or pleasure. What had she done? The words hung around her neck like a noose.
A scuffle of feet nearby drew her from herself and reminded her why she had been pulled from her slumber. They weren’t alone.