The great thing about being a slayer is this sense of power you have all the time, this sense that you can beat anyone, that you're invincible. It's like a constant adrenaline rush, a sweet steady ego feeder that lets you know that you are better, you are superior, and you can do whatever the hell you want, cause no one can stop you.

But now I can't even control myself...I lie here on the bed, clenching muscles, teeth, anything, but the warm rush still flows down my legs and my eyes fill with hot tears of embarrassment.

Yeah, Faith the big fucking powerful Slayer can't even stop herself from pissing the bed.

It snuck up on me. I started getting tired, achy. My memory loss got worse, and sometimes things would just stop working, like a leg would go numb. And it was just weird, you know? But it only happened once in a while and I didn't think about it too much.

But then it got worse, and it was like my body was just turning on me. My legs would go numb and I'd fall down right where I was standing. And I'd have to stay there like a fucking moron till they came back to life. And I got headaches, really bad ones, like somebody was trying to rip my brain in half.

And then one day, finally, inevitably, I just couldn't get out of bed. At first Drusilla didn't mind, cause you know, my tongue never went numb, but eventually, she realized that no walking meant no dancing, and no dancing meant no running.

We had to give up our fleeing life, the nameless little hotel rooms, the long days of driving. And it almost ripped Dru apart...so much of her fragile sanity was based on our impermanence. It's why she liked the sound of my heartbeat against her chest, why she almost killed me after I dusted Spike.

The doctor, yeah, Dru got me a doctor, freshly plucked out of the emergency room, said my body was sucking away its own strength, something about my metabolism. Plus, the fact that I never had any therapy for my head trauma wasn't helping things.

I always figured my Slayerness cured that, that I was spiffy a-ok, you know? But apparently it was just hiding up there, seeping into me a little deeper everyday...and there's a lot of days in four years...so the good doctor told that he "really couldn't tell anything without the proper equipment", but that I was probably dying.

If I still knew how to find Buffy, I'd try to warn her...tell her that she'll start getting tired too...that the big power jive inside of her is gonna eat her up too, if it hasn't already...Slayers weren't meant to live this long... Or maybe I wouldn't, maybe I'd just let the bitch find out...

Anyway, the doctor told me to rest, told me to stay in bed, as if I had a fucking choice, and I was almost happy when Drusilla slit his throat. He fell on the bed, on my legs and I didn't even feel it. Drusilla followed him down, lapping at the wound at his neck.

I closed my eyes, trying not to hear the slurping sounds she was making. But then she was shaking me. "Faith..."

"Dru, baby..." I opened my eyes. "What is it?"

"The doctor said you had to eat." I nod, letting my eyes slip partially closed again. "Mummy has to make sure you keep your strength up." All of a sudden there's a dead weight over my face and before I know it, coppery sticky sweet is dripping down into my mouth.

I gag, and cough, and struggle, but Dru's so much stronger than me now, and she's holding me down, crooning, "Drink it up, drink it up, drink it all up..."

So I do. I don't have much choice, you know, so I choke it down. She kisses me when I do, calling me a good little girl, and in a perverse way, I'm happy that I pleased her. Her kisses grow hotter as she tastes the blood on my tongue.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers in my ear and I almost laugh. I'm not beautiful now. I'm fucking scary, that's what I am, with great big bruised eyes and bones sticking out all over.

"So hungry" she whispers, tracing her fingers down my ribcage like I used to do hers. "You want it so much...I can see it in your eyes."

Is it rape when you want to, but you're too weak to do it and she makes your body move for you? Is it rape when she so obviously wants you, but she's too het to admit it, and you're both strong, but you're just a little bit stronger? And she moans and squeals and whispers your name but then won't look you in the eye again until she slides a fucking knife in your stomach?

Regrets....I hiss as Drusilla sends a sharp nail down my scar drawing blood. "You're thinking of her, again." she whines petulantly.

"What if I am?" I snarl weakly.

"No! You don't get to think of her if I don't get to think of him!" The nail digs in, twisting past the numb scar tissue into softer flesh.

"He's fucking dead, Dru. She's not." I think...I hope, maybe...something.

"You killed him! You killed him!" She surges to her feet, slapping her palms on her face. I turn my face away and close my eyes. I can't bear to watch my girl hurt herself, even if she hurts me eagerly.

The door slams closed, and I let myself fall into sleep.

In my dreams I can walk. In my dreams I can fly. In my dreams I make everyone who ever hurt me kneel down and kiss the tips of my boots. Then I kick them and they rise up, their mouths full of blood and kiss me, the hot liquid running down my throat, salty, coppery, and always, always tasting of Dru.

She's always there, too, tracing her fingers over my ribcage, kissing my collarbone, each hollow, each protrusion, as if she's fascinated by my bones. And then she slides her hands around my face and comes close, whispering, "Semper ardor est." I always wonder for a moment if she's going to kiss or bite, and then those cool lips touch mine.

And I wake up.

But not before....

Just as I wake up, I look into her eyes and I see that glint, that murderous spark, and I'm afraid.

"Faith." I open my eyes and she's actually leaning over me, and that spark is there, for real. I try to shrink back and she blinks and it's gone. It's just Drusilla. And she loves me because I love her and she has to.

I breathe in and I instantly know we're somewhere else. "Where are we, baby?"

"Someplace special. I wanted it to be special, for the surprise."

Flexing my arms a little, I push myself up, grimacing with the effort. I'm lying on some sort of leather couch. "What surprise?"

She puts her hand across my mouth. "Shhh. Mustn't tell." A second later she twirls away from me, and I look around. It's a room, a room I thought I'd never see again, faded over the years and decayed. I turn to the side, and right where I knew it would be is the door to the patio, where she hit me for the first time and meant it.

And there's where I threatened to cut her...

"This place isn't special, Dru. It's filled with all the reasons I had to leave this fucking place."

" I know, sweeting, I can hear them in your head, evil, naughty things, clamoring for blood." She smiles.

"I don't want to fucking be here," I grate out from between clenched teeth, my head bowed. I can hear them too, all screaming her name and traitor and liar and lover and.... shut up.

"But don't you see? It's perfect, and when the surprise comes, it'll wash away all of it and you'll be strong again." She kneels next to the couch and cups my face in her hands. "Do you trust me? Trust me as if I was curled up inside you, right next to your heart?"

No

When I don't answer she leans closer, nuzzling the side of my neck with light kisses while her hand traces soft patterns on my back. It feels so good and I relax. She's supporting me and I don't have to work, don't have to deal with the little ache of making myself sit up straight.

I sigh and she kisses the underside of my chin, featherlightly and everything just feels so fucking soft and my head goes numb. "I trust you," I murmur into her sweet smelling hair, very quietly.

"You probably shouldn't." If I could see her face, I know her eyes would be sane, that this is one of her rare moments in clarity. And then I feel it and I know what her face looks like now too and there's razor-sharp, biting, tearing things at my neck. Oh, fuck. Oh, Buffy, I'm dying. There's blood and it's everywhere, all over my chest and neck and hair, and I can smell it.

And she's holding on to me, she's not letting go, and I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying. Oh, god, please, Buffy. I don't want to die, all I ever ever wanted....and I don't want....I don't want to go like this.

Just one more person I loved who fucked me over. Just a little more lethal than the last one. When you slid that knife in, it hurt less than this. But she's doing it, she's sucking, holding on to me like a leech, and I can feel everything slowing down.

"No, please, baby," I manage to whisper. "Please not again. Don't kill me again."

You'll be strong again.

I'm not going to die. She won't let me, and right now I don't know if that's better or worse. She's going to feed me and we'll be side by side forever, and no one can hurt us anymore.

But I'm so weak and there's so much blood and she won't let go and if you don't stop, Dru, if you don't let go, and do your part. Oh. It's too much, baby, and I can't move and can't talk and I can't do anything but feel everything go wrong. It's too much. It's way too much. And you fucked it up, Dru, you fucked it up and it's over.