It takes years, because betrayal's betrayal, no matter how fucked up one of them was at the time. They're covered in blood when it finally happens – it seems fitting – though this time they weren't fighting each other, just demons. Enough demons to give them a run for their money, get their blood pumping and adrenaline rushing, and it's a buzz, the killing, the fighting in sync. Like old times, but better. It makes her hot, clawing-at-her-own-skin hot, itchy with the need to do something about it, and Buffy's breathless too, the look in her eyes matching the way Faith feels.
B can pretend all she likes that they're different, but they're not. They're Slayers and they're the same inside and they want everything more and faster and harder than anyone else. And they take it too, Faith always, B more reluctantly, but she's getting there, learning what it means to be a slayer. About time too.
"My place," Faith says, once she's kicked the last demon to make sure it's dead. It is, but she decapitates it anyway: it messed up her new boots, and demon slime's a bitch to get out.
Faith has an apartment now, up six flights of stairs with no elevator, but she likes what it does for her thighs. They go there to clean up, because it's the nearest place and this isn't the sort of town you can run around covered in blood and demon guts and have everyone turn a blind eye. Sunnydale was good for that, if nothing much else. B calls first shower, but Faith can't wait for her to finish, crowding into the little rusty bathtub with the DIY shower, and when they're wet and naked and there's nowhere to move but towards each other, it seems crazy to waste the moment. So they don't. They fuck each other as hard as they've just fought, fingers slick with water and their own juices, and Faith learns that B likes to bite but that's okay because two can play that game. She bites B's breast, teeth marks over her hard little nipples and B likes that, wriggles in pleasure and lets out a long low-pitched moan that sounds like a porno only better.
There are scars on B that Faith doesn't remember, one slender one across her right breast – a knife wound, Faith would lay odds on it. She's got one to match on the back of her thigh. She felt every inch of B's body when she was in it, but it's been years, and it felt different being inside it. Tasted different. This is the real thing, and this is B now, not the enemy any more. Maybe not friends either, but Faith's never been big on friends.
"Did Angel do that for you?" Faith whispers into her skin, licking at the indentations she's just made, then biting at them again before they can fade.
"Less talking, more fucking," B demands, not answering the question. Suits Faith – she wants to fuck, and she doesn't really give a damn what B did with her vampire boyfriends. She twists them around so she can back B up against the tiles, lifts B's leg up on the side of the tub, and eats her out, fingers and tongue working together to make B helpless, except B has other ideas, switches them around before she's even gotten to come and slides her fingers through the folds of Faith's cunt, then spreads her open and goes at it with her tongue.
Faith isn't gonna be the one to come first, though, not for anyone, no matter that she's close enough that it hurts, an ache deep in her belly. She can wait. She's changed too, more patient, willing to take her time when it gets her what she wants. She tugs Blondie off by her hair – laughs when B narrows her eyes in annoyance – and they tumble over in the bath, Faith on top this time.
She taps out the rhythm of their heartbeats with her nails, tap tap tap against the enamel, pining B down and staring at her. B stares back; she's all challenge and the will to back it up, and Faith remembers the girl in flowery dresses who bitched if her hair got messed up or her lip gloss smudged. Faith doesn't miss her, and she doesn't think B does either. That girl was boring. This one isn't. This one has all Faith's attention. B curls her lip, tenses as Faith's tap tap tapping gets louder, and makes her move. Faith lets her, this time.
They swap and switch around until they're both going near crazy. The shower curtain is torn and the floor soaked, and if her neighbor weren't deaf, there'd have been banging on the wall by now with the noise they're making. It's the most fun Faith's had in years, and for all that B's muttering at her to fucking get on with it, Faith knows she likes the game, too. That's the thing about Slayers – so many things are easy for them, way too easy, sometimes it's just fun to make things harder.
But all good games have to come to an end, especially when the end means Faith gets to come. Next time B tries to take over, Faith feints left and catches B by both arms. For all B's smaller, Faith can barely hold her, but she pushes, shoves a leg between B's thighs and makes her get off like that, rutting against her leg. B bites her lip when she comes, closes her eyes and tips her head back, and Faith has to bite her, right in the corner of her neck and shoulder, where a vampire would. Where one did, and left the scar to prove it. Faith has to do it or she'd say something stupid, and that's not part of the game.
B lies there afterwards, not making a move to get Faith off, so Faith shrugs and gets herself off. She's so close it only takes two fingers and the sight of B slowly and deliberately licking water off the split in her puffy lower lip before the ache's turned to heat and she's shuddering, cunt clenching around her fingers as she comes.
"I guess you won," Buffy says, once Faith's finished. The bite mark on her neck's already gone. Faith wishes she'd bitten harder, enough to draw blood.
"Like there was any doubt," Faith says, though B's looking sleek and satisfied and Faith has the thrum of battle still in her but it's muted now to a level that just leaves her feeling alive and charged, so really they both won.
Faith's okay with that.
She thinks they'll both win again later, if B stays. Faith thinks she will. And next time they'll fuck on the bed where she can taste B without the cleanness of water washing everything away. They'll get sticky and sweaty and she'll have the scent of B on her fingers and bruises on her body, and she'll bite hard enough that the mark will still be there when B brushes her hair in the morning. She'll make B's body sing like a bell, because no one knows it better than Faith.
