Leaning against the large, ominous door of Spike’s surprisingly plush crypt, Buffy tried to sense if he was alone or not. It didn’t seem like there was more than just the one vampire in there, but she couldn’t be too careful, especially if Darla wasn’t in fact fully vampire.

Deciding against knocking in case she caught Darla in the act of. . .just being there, Buffy pushed the door open, wondering why Spike had never thought it necessary to get a lock. She smirked as she caught Spike washing his underwear in an old iron tub in the corner of the room. His back was to her and he was shaking the water from his briefs, humming a tune to himself, oblivious to Buffy’s entrance.

“Tighty whities?” Buffy asked with a chuckle.

He dropped his slightly less than white underwear back into the soapy water.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, “a bloke can’t get a minute’s peace around here. What do you want?”

“Can’t I just come visit?” Buffy asked, still grinning at him.

“No, you bloody well can’t. I’m busy.”

“I can see that,” she pointed out, nodding towards his very small pile of clothes. “I always wondered what you wear when your one pair of pants and one tee shirt is getting washed.”

She didn’t hide the mirth in her voice. He was decked out in gaudy Bermuda shorts and an old, discoloured tee shirt at least two sizes too small.

Looking down at himself he gave a shrug. “It’s all I had,” he offered. “Now stop gawping and say whatever it is you came to say.”

She took a little pity on him as he didn’t look particularly cheerful, or smug, as was his usual appearance.

“You’ve heard the news I’m guessing,” she said.

“Darla?” he deduced. “That bint has no right waltzing around like she owns the place again.”

“I agree.”

He left his washing for the moment and moved over to his dilapidated la-z-boy, snatching a packet of cigarettes from the arm and sliding one between his lips.

“She’s nothing but trouble, and the quicker you stake her the better,” he stated. “I’ll help sharpen your stake.”

She wondered just why Spike was so keen on getting rid of her, but the less she knew about the relationship history of Darla, Spike, Dru and Angel the better. The little she knew was enough as far as she was concerned. It wasn’t her business, and truth be told. . .the whole thing made her shudder.

“I can’t stake her, not yet anyway,” she told him.

“Well what kind of slayer are you?” he jibed. “She’s dangerous, making me a laughing stock, and she. . .she’s getting in the bloody way.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow as Spike got more and more agitated.

“In the way?” she questioned, curious as to what he meant. If Darla was planning something, she needed to know.

He grumbled, like he didn’t want to continue sharing in this way, and lit his cigarette. With a puff of smoke into the air, his shoulders dropped further and Buffy almost felt sorry for him. Without his ‘armour’ and with his skinny white legs sticking out of ridiculously colourful shorts he looked quite pathetic. He was practically pouting.

“Wait, are we talking about Darla and Faith here?” she guessed, watching his eyes narrow as she spoke.

“It’s a bloody liberty,” he said. “I told myself I shouldn’t bother getting friendly with a slayer; they’re too fickle. No loyalty.”

He sounded like he was talking from experience, but Buffy knew he wasn’t. The only slayers he’d been remotely ‘friendly’ with were her and Faith.

“So you’re pissed because Darla stole your only friend?” Buffy asked, barely disguising the sarcasm.

“Don’t know what you’re looking so smarmy about,” he pointed. “With Faith all over Darla she’s not gonna have the time of day for you either.”

Buffy thought about that for a moment. It would have been perfect; getting Faith out of her hair and not having to worry about what they both felt or what they wanted. But it wasn’t perfect. She didn’t like the idea of Faith with Darla. If she were being honest – which she wasn’t going to be with Spike – she didn’t like the idea of Faith being with anybody.

“What she does, or ‘who’ she does doesn’t concern me,” she lied, badly. “I just need to know if Darla poses a threat. If she’s here to hurt people.”

“And how would I know that? She barely looked at me when I last saw her,” he told Buffy. “She was being all suspicious-like, though.”

“Suspicious how?” Buffy pressed.

“Hanging around the cemetery, without Faith in tow,” he replied. “Got the feeling she was waiting for something. And the local demons seem kinda spooked right now. Something’s brewing.”

Buffy really didn’t like the sound of that. Darla could have been recruiting local vampires to drill up a small gang. They’d all do her bidding given her history, half-vampire or not. She’d have to be extra careful out on patrol. She’d also have to inform Giles and hope he could persuade Faith to stay away from Darla. Either Darla was hoping to get Faith on her side so they could take over the hellmouth, or she was using Faith as bait. Whatever the case, Faith wasn’t in a great position.

“We need to stop her before she does anything. . .bad,” Buffy said, creasing her brow in concentration and almost forgetting who she was talking to.

Spike wasn’t part of their team, but surely he could be an asset in this. He obviously didn’t trust Darla and wanted her gone, not to mention he didn’t like the fact that Darla was now all in Faith’s business. Buffy imagined they could use him, she just wasn’t sure how yet, beyond him lurking in shadows as per usual.

“Well when you decide to stake her, let me know. I’ll bring popcorn.”

“Just keep your eyes open,” she asked. “And if you can try to talk to Faith and get her away from Darla that’d be a big help.”

His old smirk came out a little as he peered at Buffy.

“A little peeved that some other girl has got her fingers in your pie?” he questioned, sitting back in his dirty old chair as Buffy stepped towards the door.

“Faith isn’t my. . .pie,” she asserted, feeling a little flushed at the sudden images of her fingers in said metaphorical Faith-pie. “She just doesn’t need Darla ruining her life now she’s trying to do the right thing. Just be a good little vampire and let me know if you find anything out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you have all the information I can get my hands on. Nobody comes into my town and gets all uppity without consequences.”

Buffy gave him a slightly sceptical look but she had no other real reason to doubt him. He had motive enough to see to it that Darla didn’t stay too long; that would have to do. She didn’t trust him, not by a long shot, but he was definitely the lesser of two evils right now.

She left shortly after Spike started insinuating about just what kind of relationship Darla was having with Faith. They’d both got an angry glare in their eyes at the supposition, and Buffy thought it best to leave before either of them said anything too revealing. Plus, listening to Spike talk as if he had a shot at Faith to begin with made Buffy want to strangle him to death, slowly. He was deluded, but Buffy needed his connections with the underground to figure out just how much of a threat Darla was right now.

So she made her way home after a quick sweep of the cemetery, keeping to the shadows so she didn’t inadvertently bump into Darla and/or Faith. Buffy wasn’t ready to face them again together; doubting whether she’d be able to hold her tongue this time, or hide just how angry she was at seeing Faith moving on. Not that she expected Faith to simper after her forever, but she’d only just come back to Sunnydale, and they’d only just confessed to each other that they’d always wanted more, and they’d only just almost had sex on the floor of the Magic Box. Surely if Faith really wanted to convince Buffy that it was her she wanted and not Tru she wouldn’t jump in bed with the first ‘half-vampire’ that came along.

Surely, even though Faith had told her that she was now “done with trying to be good enough” for her, she wouldn’t just give up that easily.

It just went to prove that Tru had really been the right choice. Buffy could trust in Tru.

Buffy sat heavily at her desk, trying to hard not to think of Faith anymore that night. She was tired and agitated. She had a pile of homework to do that she was tempted to just shove to the floor and forget about. And she was hungry.

First things first, Buffy changed, then she gave Tru a call to confirm plans for the weekend, then she ordered a pizza and got suitably greasy and plump around the stomach. Then she decided to tackle some homework. Pushing it aside again would just make matters worse, and the last thing she needed to do right now was mess up her education. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be a lawyer or a doctor, or anything really, but she didn’t want to disappoint her mom, or Giles.

It was getting into the early hours of the morning by the time Buffy felt like she’d made a nice dent in the homework pile, and she decided it was time for bed. Though late nights were her ‘thing’ as a slayer, she really did feel exhausted.

Pushing down her jogging bottoms and leaving herself in just an overlong tee shirt and panties, Buffy sat back down at her desk ready to moisturise and tie her hair up. She was determined to keep her thoughts blank, or focused on her very lovely girlfriend, and she was mostly able to in her drowsy state, but there was always a niggle of something in the back of her mind that kept her feeling off-balance. She hated the feeling and hoped it would pass one day. Maybe if she were to bring Tru to Sunnydale and make her more part of her life it would finally put a nail in the coffin that was her and Faith.

She could only hope.

With a yawn, Buffy pulled the covers back on her bed and flicked the bedside light on. She’d already brushed her teeth and switched off the big light in the centre of the room, and a book lay on her nightstand waiting to read. It would hopefully help with that desire to rid her mind of all her angst before she went to sleep. She’d try anything at this point, even though reading had always kind of bored her. Reading was more a Willow thing.

Just as Buffy ensured her bedroom door was locked there was a knock on it. Not a quiet knock either.

“What the. . .” Buffy grumbled.

It was two o’clock in the morning so who could possibly be hammering at her door?

With caution, Buffy flicked the lock and grasped the door handle. She didn’t know why she was feeling so apprehensive, but there was something she could sense making her pause; a slight tickle of recognition; a slayer-tingle.

An exasperated sigh drifted from Buffy’s lips but she opened the door without further hesitation. Peeking around the door she instantly saw that it was indeed Faith. Further inspection ensured that Faith was alone, thankfully.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked curtly, pulling the door open wider.

“The usual,” Faith slurred cryptically.

She rested a hand on the doorframe and gave Buffy the once over without looking in the least bit apologetic for doing it.

Faith was drunk.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. She smelled like a bar and her eyes were slightly unfocused, even as they slid all over Buffy. With a shudder that she hoped Faith hadn’t noticed, Buffy tried to ignore the fact that Faith was trying to eat her with her eyes.

She sighed again and shook her head in disappointment.

“Why are you here?” Buffy pressed, hoping the visit would be short. This was a recipe for disaster, especially given Faith’s choice of attire.

Faith was wearing the smallest black mini-skirt Buffy had ever seen, and her top was equally small, and very tight, as it hugged Faith underneath a well worn leather jacket. She had on some fierce boots and the whole ensemble screamed sex. On anybody else it might have been tacky, or way over the top, but on Faith it just looked hot. A double shot of hot, with a dash of sultry as a mixer. The look was distracting to say the least, but Buffy was doing her best not to notice.

“Giles,” Faith began, much too loudly; her voice echoed around the hallway making Buffy cringe.

“Jesus Christ, come in before you wake the entire floor,” Buffy insisted, pulling on Faith’s arm and closing the door behind them. “What about Giles?” she asked.

Faith turned towards her with a smirk, her eyes leaving Buffy for the moment as she looked around the small room; her gaze drifting slowly over Buffy’s things.

“Sweet place,” Faith told her, her smile still as predatory as when she’d first arrived.

“Sure,” Buffy dismissed. Her ‘place’ was small and cramped and lacking in any kind of character, unlike Faith’s funky pad with its large TV, booming stereo and a plethora of video game entertainment. “It’s practically palatial, now what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Faith repeated, making it sound like she was trying to have sex with the words.

The drink had made her voice drop even lower, huskier, and far too sexy for Buffy’s liking. Not that she didn’t actually like it – in fact she loved it, but that was the problem.

“Yes,” Buffy insisted, hating the fact her own voice had suddenly taken on a sultry burr without her consent.

Faith was stalking closer and Buffy tried to surreptitiously back away until her butt hit the edge of her desk, which quickly reminded her of her state of undress as the cool wood gave her a little shock.

“Isn’t it obvious what I want, B?” Faith asked, her eyebrows doing that cute confused thing that made Buffy want to die right then and there to get away from it.

This line of conversation was quickly getting out of hand and headed for bad things. Buffy had to steer things away from the obvious heat between them; and damn was there heat right now. Buffy almost wanted to pull her own tee shirt off to cool down, but she doubted that would halt Faith’s slow advance.

“Giles,” Buffy blurted, recalling what Faith had said in the hall before she’d yanked her inside.

“What?” Faith practically yelled. “No, I don’t want Giles. What kinda twisted. . .”

“No, I mean, what did you mean when you said Giles just before?” Buffy asked, trying to explain. Safe ground. They needed safe ground because she could barely shift her gaze from Faith’s bare thighs and generous cleavage.

Faith seemed to stop and think for a moment.

“Oh right,” she finally murmured, her features showing a clear change in mood from drunkenly-seductive to hesitantly-annoyed. “I’m pissed at you. And Giles.”

She didn’t exactly sound pissed, in the angry sense. Her voice was softer now and she appeared almost hurt, or maybe it was just confusion. Faith certainly wasn’t an angry drunk.

“I’m guessing he spoke to you about Darla,” Buffy suggested.

“Damn right he did, and it. . .seriously, Buffy?” Faith sighed, running a hand through her long hair that was currently straight and sleek, and making Buffy want to run her own fingers through it. “Getting Giles to tell me who to hang with? It’s not cool.”

Buffy wanted to tell Faith she was well within her rights to worry, but she knew it had been unfair to assume the worst off the bat. Still, she wasn’t about to let Faith know that.

“Faith, you don’t know what Darla wants. You don’t know her,” Buffy asserted. “We’re just concerned.”

“I know her plenty,” Faith countered, and though she didn’t say it, Buffy could guess just how exactly she knew her. “She’s not here to cause trouble, and it’s nobody’s business who I. . .”

Buffy couldn’t help but look away and it caused Faith to abruptly leave her sentence hanging.

“Just stay outta my fucking business, B,” Faith warned with very little enthusiasm.

She sounded deflated, which might have been the drink, but Buffy was sure it must have been something else. She felt concern, and she wanted to help but didn’t know how. They’d never really been friends and their attempts at it had always gone awry. There had always been too much tension. Too much passion.

“I don’t want to be in your business, Faith,” Buffy pointed out, hoping her lie wouldn’t be detected, “but something isn’t right. Darla shouldn’t be. . .”

“Ok, ok,” Faith interrupted, waving her hands around, moving slightly unsteadily towards Buffy again. “I get it, but I’m not fucking stupid. And you’re not exactly Miss. High-And-Mighty morals yourself right now so back off.”

There wasn’t much Buffy could say to that. Faith was right, but there was probably more at stake than what Faith could imagine. She obviously hadn’t thought about the further implications of Darla being in Sunnydale. Buffy could have tried to explain, but Faith was in no state to listen. She doubted she’d remember anything she said right now anyway by the morning.

“We’ll talk about this another time,” Buffy offered. “Right now you should go home and sleep this off.”

She waved her hand at Faith to indicate her general inebriated state, but Faith just grinned at her and took a step towards her so they were within reaching distance.

“I dunno, I kinda like it right here,” Faith said as her gaze ran the entire way up Buffy’s uncovered legs.

Feeling herself flush with barely restrained desire, Buffy glanced over at her sweatpants lying on the chair by her bed. Faith’s eyes had a way of making her feel naked enough as it was, so standing around in just a tee shirt and panties wasn’t exactly putting her at ease.

“Faith,” Buffy began, but she stopped and licked her suddenly dry lips as Faith got even closer, her hand resting on the desk right next to Buffy as she sidled up beside her. “You really should go.”

She hoped she hadn’t just swallowed really loudly, but the raised eyebrow from Faith clearly indicated she hadn’t missed how uncomfortable Buffy felt.

“I could tell ya that you really don’t want me to go, but you already know it,” Faith said huskily, leaning forward so the words caressed Buffy’s ear with lips threatening to follow suit.

Faith’s demeanour was so loose compared to usual. Normally she was on edge, ready to jump into fight or flight; the alcohol running through her veins had noticeably turned down the dial on her nervous energy, or her attitude. Whichever it was, it had Buffy fumbling in the dark, but there was no forgetting the obvious.

“We’ve talked about this before,” Buffy reminded. “I’m with somebody.”

Her voice was so quiet she wondered if Faith had heard, but she wasn’t going to repeat herself; she was too afraid the tremble in her voice would become more obvious as Faith moved her hand from the desk to Buffy’s forearm. Her fingers were warm and they ghosted over Buffy with a promise, a memory, a need that Buffy could feel right the way through her.

It would be easy to give in, but the repercussions would not be easy. The fallout would be massive, and violent, and it scared Buffy too much.

She jerked away from Faith, but not too far, standing by her old wooden desk chair now as Faith slid into the perch on the edge of the desk that Buffy had just occupied. Their eyes were locked, almost in battle, as Buffy tried to say the things she knew she had to say. But she didn’t say “leave,” or “go,” she just stared, with her heart in her mouth.

They were still too close, but Buffy’s feet seemed glued to the spot, the chair behind her bumping against the backs of her legs as she recoiled without actually moving.

“You’re with the wrong somebody,” Faith practically whispered, though the deep timbre to her voice made Buffy close her eyes and will her body not to react.

“I thought you said you were done with this, Faith,” Buffy reminded, barely trusting her voice not to betray her.

“Yeah well, I’m drunk, and I. . .”

Faith stalled, looking more vulnerable than Buffy had ever seen her. It almost had her reaching out to Faith, but she remained still, watching Faith’s chest rise and fall quicker by the second.

As they allowed the atmosphere to taint them with a heady pressure that had them both breathing quicker, Buffy saw something cross Faith’s features. One minute she seemed vulnerable and unsure, but as if a light switched on inside her she suddenly shifted. Her eyes grew darker and she pushed away from the desk with one destination in mind – Buffy.

Buffy wanted to back away, wanted to tell Faith no, but she couldn’t. She allowed Faith to pin her with her eyes and the intensity behind them as she shrugged her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. She allowed herself to feel Faith; what she did to her and how she made her body react. She allowed the distance to disintegrate between them.

“I don’t think this is a very good. . .”

Buffy didn’t get her thoughts out as Faith’s body imposed upon her own, making her sit abruptly in the chair directly behind her. With a thud, Buffy landed on the hard wood, her eyes never leaving Faith’s as Faith continued forward.

One minute Faith was standing before her, the next she was straddling Buffy’s lap on the chair, her arms hanging loose at her sides as she settled her weight onto Buffy. It took a monumental effort for Buffy to breathe normally, and she was losing that battle. Her gaze lingered on Faith’s slightly parted lips, then travelled down to the flush of skin above her chest, to the swell of her breasts and the solid surface of her stomach. She took in the shock of skin that revealed itself between Faith’s top and her skirt, and finally she allowed her gaze to settle between Faith’s legs, to the promises just beyond the small stretch of material hiding Faith from her open admiration.

“Like what you see?” Faith drawled, scooting forward ever so slightly and causing Buffy to let slip a shuddering sigh that gave away all her secrets.

She could feel Faith’s heat on her lap. She could smell her arousal already. Buffy’s resolve was quickly burning up with the need she felt to have this girl. Faith’s breasts were so close to her face, to her lips, and Buffy wanted to cry with frustration.

If she were able to think straight she’d be pushing Faith off her and throwing her out, but the only movement was coming from Faith as she met Buffy’s eyes with a grin and quickly pulled off her top, revealing heavy breasts and dark nipples just begging to be touched – she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Faith, this isn’t fair,” Buffy said, not recognising her voice as she spoke through the haze of desire and need, her mouth watering as she let her gaze devour the gorgeous girl on her lap.

“You wanna talk about fair, B?” Faith asked, the hint of a threat slipping free. “I think we already covered what’s fair.”

How could Buffy gain the higher ground in this? She couldn’t. Fair didn’t come into it considering all the facts and all she’d done.

Swallowing hard, Buffy stiffened as Faith reached down and took one of her wrists, bringing Buffy’s hand up so her fingers glanced across the side of a full breast. Buffy closed her eyes but it didn’t help, it just heightened every other sense; all she could feel and smell was Faith. Her mind was racing, her heart was pounding. She had to get away but she didn’t.

Letting Faith guide her fingers towards a taut nipple, Faith’s breath trembling from her lips at the first touch, Buffy felt her control slipping bit by bit. Faith pushed into Buffy’s hand and Buffy’s eyelids flew open as her other hand was taken from her control and lifted to the closest expanse of bare thigh that was pinning her to the chair.

She continued to press her palm against Faith’s hard nipple even though Faith had now let go in order to settle her hand on Buffy’s shoulder. She felt the weight of the breast at her touch, felt the way kneading it and stroking her thumb over the nipple made Faith react. Faith was subtly moving her hips and Buffy gritted her teeth in order not to mimic the motion. This couldn’t happen, but apparently it was; she was yet to release Faith’s breast, and her other hand was being guided under the small slither of skirt that hid the last of Faith from her.

“So hot for you,” Faith breathed; her forehead dropping softly onto Buffy’s in the small space between them on the chair.

This was wrong. Buffy knew this was wrong, but as her fingertips reached the damp material of Faith’s panties she lost all hope of thinking about stopping, of thinking about Tru. Right then there was no room for Tru in her head. No room at all.

Buffy pressed her fingertips against Faith under her skirt and they both groaned; the heat she found there was almost unbearable, and Faith was wet. Very wet.

“Oh god,” Buffy sighed, knowing how she’d hate herself if this didn’t stop, but knowing that she wanted this. Right now, she wanted this so badly it made her whole body hum with a yearning that frightened her.

It frightened her, but she wanted more. She had to have Faith’s aching desire trickling over her fingers. There was no question about it.

“Fuck me, Buffy,” Faith whispered so low and sensual in her ear.