Less Immaculate Conceptions
An annoyingly chipper, and freshly painted sign announcing "Sunnydale!" greets Gunn's truck as it zooms by. Faith's eyes catch a glimpse of the familiar letters, the dreaded word; gone in a blink of mascara. At the bend of the highway, she breaks the silence that kept itself for the last hundred miles.
"Goddamn." Faith's squirming for impossible comfort between whiny, tiny small-boned Winifred and family-sized Cordelia. The latter more than compensating for whatever space Fred lacks. "I don't think I'm down with this no piss stop rule."
"Oh please," snaps Cordelia, glaring out the window, cupped hands casually stroking her swollen abdomen. "At least you don't have a tiny demonoid playing evil hopscotch on your bladder."
"I'm sure we'll be there soon, Cordy," chimes in Fred with an attempt at consolation. She pauses unsteadily. "Won't we?"
Cordelia nods but says nothing, continuing her slow, soothing circles and tired window stare. It's a pathetic kodak moment of the whole trip so far. Gunn pretending that his focus is on the road ahead. Fred babbling about directions which always leads to something more or less relevant. Faith slightly shifting her weight from one side of her ass to the other, sometimes massaging a cramp out of her leg. Cordelia brooding at the passing scenery. No one talking about how this sad excuse for a road trip was really a kind of running for their lives.
"I hope Wesley was able to get a hold of her," says Fred, shattering all pretenses right on cue. "It'd be awfully rude to just show up without warning. What with the bad news and all."
Gunn's the one to reply. "Wes has got everything under control. I'm just wondering if this was the right move, comin' out here and everything. This Buffy chick has got a habit of up and dying. What if we get there to tell her that her ex-honey is back on the drink again and..."
Faith jabs her hip into Fred's thigh in an effort to sit flat on the seat. "She's not dead."
"Well, maybe we should just stop at a payphone somewhere and call." Fred rubs her leg that's sure to bruise. "Just to see if she's, I don't know, in a good mood? Preferably an alive one?"
"Yes, let's just ignore the seer and pretend she wouldn't be able to forsee something that important," says Cordy impatiently.
"If we stop somewhere to phone B, it better have a toilet."
"No one is getting out until we get there!" Gunn's fingers stretch and tense over the wheel. "There will be no stopping of any kind until we are--"
The headlights hit the man's face a moment before his body smashes the windshield. Tumbling over the top, past the bed of the truck, finally rolling to lay a few yards behind them. Three heads whip around to survey the damage.
Only Cordelia maintains her position of staring out the side. "Keep driving," she instructs, her tone flat and exhausted.
Fred is all but whimpering. "We have to check to see if he's...he could have been killed."
"He was." All eyes on Cordelia. "But not by us."
"You sayin' that was vamp?" Gunn's skepticism rushes up from his mouth and to his eyes until his whole face is stony disbelief. He cranes his neck to squint at the crumpled body, the brake lights bathing it in weak crimson.
"Did- did you have a vision?" Fred winces hopefully, calming some.
"No, I had a four year major in Lame Vamp Tricks 101," she says with a sigh. "Keep driving."
Fred's not so sure. "But he coulda been a hitchhiker."
Faith chokes on a thick snicker. "Anyone hitchhiking in Sunnydale deserves a tread mark on their ass. But that thing ain't human."
"She's right." Cordy finally faces them. "Death by car? Pretty much a best case scenario for any species in these parts."
"I'm just hypothesizing," Fred continues, weakening beneath the confrontation. "It could've been anybody..."
"What body?" Gunn's voice is dead low with realization as he glares into the rearview mirror. The red glow of the taillights falls on bare highway road. A quick check with a turn of his head reveals the still there roadkill. "Team tourist apologizes."
With a shift of the gear stick and a sharp exhale from Gunn, they speed off towards town. "It's just that, in L.A., some people aren't above crazy shit like that. Demons though? That's new."
"Welcome to the hellmouth, city boy," Faith mutters.
Gunn watches the road ahead. Fred's chewing on her bottom lip. Left cheek's turn again. Brooding Cordelia resumes her staring contest with the window. Silence until the Summers' driveway.
The first out is Gunn, helping his girl hop from the step to the ground. Faith leans over Cordy and gives an effortless push on the heavy door. It swings open obligingly. Cordy makes to get out but Faith stops her.
"Hold up a sec." The slayer slides over Cordy's knees, coarse maternity denim rough against the black leather, and she jumps to the ground. When she holds out her hand, she expects Cordy to hesitate or laugh or plain slide out the other side. But Cordelia just reaches for the offered hand and allows herself to be helped down, Faith's surprising stability well worth the pride swallowing.
When the two girls reach the front porch, Fred is poised with her little fist in the air, ready to knock. Before her knuckles can connect with the wood, Cordelia's barging past and opening the unlocked door. Faith, in tow, breezes by a startled Gunn and Fred.
Gunn shrugs at Fred's uneasy look. "I think we know why this girl always ends up so dead." He takes Fred's sweaty palm in his, and they enter.
Cordelia's jean hugged ass sways as she races up the stairs. The house is a black hole of empty. Faith calls out anyway, "Buffy?" She leads the quiet couple around the circling lap of first floor, flipping unresponsive switches as she makes the rounds. Dining room. Kitchen. Hall. Living room. No juice.
"Power's cut," Faith states the obvious when Cordy creaks down the stairs and joins them in the living room.
"Water works and the bathroom's clear," she replies, all relieved smile. "But yeah, pretty much lightless and peopleless. I'm guessing they're hiding out somewhere."
"I'll doublecheck the john." Faith hurries for the staircase, tapping into full slayer speed with each step. Eyes used to the dark of jail, it's no chore finding the path to the toilet.
Leaving the bathroom, she doesn't head back down to the others. Instead, she's pulled to check out the room across the hall and to the left. Nothing rings familiar inside. Even in the dark, she can tell that things have been moved, changed, shifted. Candles and incense and books. Lots of books. Definitely not B's room anymore.
Further down the hall to the master bedroom. Faith hadn't anticipated the sting of that room. Now double whammied with the sadness of no Joyce and the sight of Buffy's belongings there. The closet is thrown open, half of it almost empty. The half that's full of bare hangers, keeps only a few tiny, trendy outfits. They must have left in a hurry. The other side is full of more sophisticated arrangements. Things a single mother in her thirties might wear.
"Joyce." Cordy's voice drifts from the doorway. It almost breaks the word in half. She's holding a lit candle, brightening up her face with moving shapes. The darkness feeds Faith the image of a teenage girl. Her belly hidden, shoulder length hair of no distinguishable lightness. A shadow of a different Cordelia. She sets the candle down on the nightstand.
"Yeah." All that Faith can manage. From the closet she shuffles to the window, her hand brushing the furniture tops that stand at the edge of her path. One square of glass is brighter than the others. Newer.
"She was pretty cool for a mom." Cordelia's still eyeing the clothes.
Faith nods. "Had the whole sexy, strong woman thing going for her. I always wanted to make her roar."
"Oh, ew, Faith!"
Brow arched, Faith turns from the window to face a cringing Cordelia. "Schoolboys are on your to-do list but attractive older women don't make the cut?"
"It's not an age thing, it's about sex."
Faith cracks a satisfied grin. "Exactly. And can't moms be sexy, Miss Seven Months?"
"No, that's not what I--," Cordelia sinks onto the mattress with a surrendering sigh. "Whatever. I'm not even going to argue. She was hot for a middle-aged mom. Who am I to deem what's lustworthy? I almost orgasm if I sit down too quickly these days."
"Handy skill." Away from the window, towards Cordelia.
"Not so much. See above. Almost."
"You're obviously not sitting on the right things." In a second, Faith swoops down on an unsuspecting Cordelia. Faith's demanding tongue finds a sweet solace in between Cordy's jaw and palate. Any protest Cordy intended to make is pushed away by Faith's determined hand, rounding over bent knee and gliding up the tight denim inseam. Her fingers are heatseeking missiles, and there's a wet, white hot sun beneath that zipper.
Faith's aggression lessens but not her intensity nor her intentions. It's teamwork as the jeans unzip, slide down her legs and are tossed to the floor. Loose peasant blouses are easily torn down the middle and left to slip down one's sides. Kissing down Cordy's sticky with sweat neck. Apparently it's just too much for Cordelia, she reclines on the bed, Buffy's bed, nestling in the disheveled comforter.
She's hissing and moaning and panting and it's all for Faith. Reality sets in and Faith claps a hand over Cordy's trembling mouth, "The odd couple?"
Cordy's gone dizzy with lust, it takes her a moment before she understand what Faith means. Cruelly, Faith's stopped her hand right over the slippery, aching source of Cordelia's woes. "B-Bronze. Searching...for...Buffy!"
Faith slides in on the last word, feeling Cordy's insides quiver around her strong fingers. She drags her tongue to the crest of one plumped and exceedingly sensitive breast, sending Cordelia into a frenzy of rising moans and inarticulate half-groaned words as Faith closes her lips just gently around the closed bud of a nipple.
"Oh...fuck...god...too much...now...need it...have to...please...god...more...Faith!" There's a ripping sound as Cordelia scratches her nails deep into the sheets, pulling the fabric.
Three pulses thumping like bunnies.' One baby heartbeat racing with tiny necessity inside Cordy's tight drum of a stomach. For the first time, Faith's kisses are gentle and full of something real, if maybe just respect, as she softly presses her lips in a series of flutters over and down the big belly.
Once to the bottom of the stretched flesh hill, it's no new territory for Faith. Pink and hot and waiting for what comes next. Faith licks from bottom to top, stopping at the hidden bit of hard, soft candy; hot pink, near red with blood and desire. Cordy shivers and then screams and then shivers again.
Faith's right hand of warm, sticky fingers stay at the tip, the top, rubbing in ferocious circles, a fast paced parody of Cordelia's lulling actions earlier that night. Her left hand stays put upon the mound of baby. She laps and licks and rubs and flickers until Cordy is half-floating, almost flying off the bed with convulsions. Faith wonders if Cordelia could fly, and how it would be funny story of how she learned to do it if it happened right then.
Nothing crazy or creepy or eery takes place. Just girl on girl, skin on skin, tongue on pussy, Faith on Cordelia Chase, natural as pie, earthbound human things. Cordelia's shaking so much, too much, and whimpering like an alarm clock. Gonna go off, gonna get off, any second, wait for the bell...
One last lick up to the clit, something of a nibble and BAM! Cordelia's shrieking like never before, and maybe never again, and Faith just knows to keep going. Pushing all the bitter angry bona fide bitch queen out of her jaw biting climax. Fingers and thumb, slide and circles, and goddamn if Cordelia didn't just keeping crying for a non-existent god and pulling at her hair for another five minutes.
There's a sudden punching from inside the belly drum, and Faith stumbles back against the wall, eyes wide. "Holy shit."
The screams twist into laughter, almost maniacal, shaking Cordelia and ending in a long sigh. Her arms are weak, she can barely find the strength to place her palms upon the point of kicking. "I think we woke up the kid."
Faith recovers. Deep breath, lopsided smirk. "No shocker. I think we woke up the neighbors' kids."
"Apparently hot lesbian sex resulting in many orgasms makes us both very hungry." Cordelia struggles to push up into a sitting position, and fails, settling for propping herself up on her elbows. She slightly smiles at Faith for a moment. "Thanks for the fireworks."
Faith shrugs, getting to her feet. "Just proving a point."
"In that case..." Cordy's got a dangerously wide, sly wolf grin. "I wouldn't mind hearing that closing argument one more time."