Face Down
RATING: A strong R-rating for sexual talk and situations.
SYNOPSIS: Buffy wants to wake up from this nightmare.. or does she?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never was.
NOTE: Takes place in sixth season, sometime after "Smashed".
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Listen to the Music
Think of all the things you did before
Write them in a letter that says reborn
You'll listen to reason while you're face down in the dirt
You'll stomach the hurt and break for him here
Just how much he's worth..
- Coheed & Cambria, "Three Evils"
Cover up with make up in the mirror
Tell yourself it's never gonna happen again
You cry alone and then he swears he loves you.
- Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, "Face Down"
Strawberry juice dribbled down her chin and he stretched his tongue out, licking it sensually. He gently ran his hands over her body, resting them on her hips and pulling her close to kiss her. He tasted like peaches, fresh and sweet.
She had to be fucking dreaming.
Buffy reached a hand up and wiped the blood off her chin, tasting the fresh wounds in her mouth. Annoyed, she spit into the street. She walked with a limp, her ass on fire from his nails digging into it, not to mention..
No! She wasn't going to think about that. This was definitely the last time. Spike was going to have to understand, that was all. What did she care what Spike felt or thought, anyway? She stopped lumbering towards home and sat on the curb, wincing at the burn in her ass. She couldn't believe she'd let him..
Who are you kiddin', B?
Buffy startled. The words had practically echoed down the empty street, as if the brunette Slayer was standing beside her. What was it Faith had always said? Want, take, have? Hah! Buffy didn't want this.. oh, who the hell was she kidding? She almost wished Faith was there to offer some words that might not have been wise, but would at least justify this mess.
"UGGGHHH!" she cried out to anybody who might be listening, frustrated. Well.. why not? She was fucking Spike, why couldn't she talk to Faith?
She stood up painfully. She had that number somewhere.
The next afternoon, she dialed it with shaking hands. After a lot of shuffling and yelling on the other end, a familiar voice spoke over the tinny connection.
"Hey, B." Silky smooth like smoke and sex, not changed in the least. Buffy deflated a little. She'd hoped that prison had made Faith softer, that she might have some normal-person advice for her.
"How did you know it was me?"
Faith clicked her tongue. "You gonna waste my time marveling at the wonders of Slayersense, or you gonna tell me why you're callin'?"
"You mean you don't know that already, too?" Buffy dawdled flirtatiously.
Faith sucked her teeth, obviously annoyed. "Look. It's chocolate pudding day. I'd like to know if I should go ahead and have seconds, cuz, yunno, calories don't count when the world is ending."
"No. No end of the world. Not this week, anyway."
"Then what?" Faith sounded confused.
"I need some advice." The other girl burst out laughing. "Okay, Faith, I get it. Ha, ha." Still the other girl chortled, her voice fading as though she was holding the phone away. "Faith, I'm serious. Please?"
Faith's laughter subsided. "What on earth could Miss Perfect need advice on from *me*?"
Buffy put her forehead in her hand, sliding down the wall and sitting with her knees to her chest. Her ass still hurt. "What? Why?" Shit! She'd said it out loud!
"Um.. That's kinda what I needed advice on." She could just *hear* Faith raising an eyebrow. She wanted to slap herself. She needed advice on her rear end?
"Been taking it up the ass recently, B?" Faith snorted, as if that was a totally foreign concept.
"Sorta." This time, she did hear Faith choke on her own saliva. Buffy rushed to speak and found herself spilling everything to the younger girl. From her death earlier which she was surprised to hear that Faith already knew about, right up to her latest tryst with Spike.
"He sounds like a piece of shit," Faith said matter-of-factly.
"What? That's not…really the response I was expecting from you."
Faith's voice got lower. Maybe someone was walking by. "Look. He beats the shit out of you, he fucks you whenever and wherever he wants, and you sit there like a little bitch and take it. The whole situation's fucked if you ask me. He's full of shit if he says he loves you. How can someone with no soul love?"
Buffy bit her lip, then cursed as one of the wounds from last night re-opened.
"Nice mouth," Faith snorted lightly. "Look. Are you happy? You don't sound happy. You sound like a beaten wife." Her voice took on a mocking tone. "Oh, he loves me. Oh, he didn't mean to hurt me. He just drinks too much!"
Buffy picked at her shoelace. "This isn't really what I was expecting," she said again. "What happened to 'Want, take, have'?"
"You've got the concept all fucked in your head, sweetie," Faith said scornfully. "Three simple words, and you can't even figure that out. You want this? You're as sick as he is, if you ask me. Which you did," she reminded her.
"Yeah," Buffy said thoughtfully. She absently picked a scab on her arm and let the blood run down to her wrist, wondering what Faith would think if she could see her now.
"It's pathetic. You wanna get fucked, get fucked. I get that. What I don't get is you letting some pussy-assed vampire beat the shit out of you for kicks." Buffy's stomach turned. "Look, I gotta go. We got a ten minute limit on calls here and I'm way over. I'm gonna be the next one getting my ass beat."
"Enjoy your pudding," Buffy murmured to the empty line. Faith was gone.
And Buffy felt even more hollow than she had before the conversation.
