Possession
As far back as she could remember, Faith wanted. On the streets of Boston, alone when her mother left her, she wanted someone to tuck her in bed, read to her at night, cook for her. Instead, Faith roamed the streets, unafraid in the dark, stalking around corners, standing up to everyone, pushing others away, but wanting someone to need her. In school, they had laughed at her, pushing her to the corners, ignoring her. She'd make them notice, see her. Her walk changed, became confident, striding through the halls, pushing them aside, not letting them see her need. Wanting to be invited into their warm homes, sleepovers, and parties. She was alone. But she realized that she would make them want her. Need her. Come to her.
Her hair flowed around her, her legs encased in leather, and she marched alone. Taking from them. Using others, never letting them come close, because, they'd see. How she never learnt what fork to use at a table, didn't have a clue what small talk was, or how to wrap a present for Christmas. It was such a long time, that she convinced herself that she didn't need it. Fine by her.
The dreams came to her. Waking her from the always uneasy sleep she found herself in. Monstrous faces stalking her, feeling the need to hunt these monsters, kill them, make them in to dust. She would wake from a dream, unsettled, needing to move, wanting completion. From someone, herself, others, but mostly wanting the kill. She forgot about school, left it behind, her clock changed. She slept during the day and roamed the streets at night, needing something, more. Searching for the faces in her nightmares, knowing they lurked in the shadows. One day, she felt it. A surge of power coursed through her. Making her light on her feet, powerful, and fast. No one could catch her. She was beyond them. The night spoke to her, kept her alive. It was hers. Walking through the shadows of the night, one evening, she felt it, sensed it. Every hair on her body stood up, her skin prickled with sensation, she felt everything. Her newly sensitive eyes saw the impossible in the shadows, a figure from her dreams, face distorted, foul smelling, and disturbing the purity of her night. Without conscious thought she jumped on him, fighting with a ferocity finally unleashed within her, and it was good. She grabbed a piece of wood and plunged it into the beast's chest. The explosion of dust that coated her, was a baptism of power. Standing in the alleyway, her hand clutching the wood like a sword she howled to the night in triumph. The night was hers.
From the shadows a woman appeared, and gave her a name, Slayer. This she added to her own name, Faith. Power and belief, owning the night, this was what she had been waiting for. Her legs trembled with the force of her kill, the aftershocks of the fight moved through her, combining with the heat between her legs, spreading out from her center, to each limb, making her pulse and wetting her pants with her juices, she had arrived.
To celebrate her first kill, her Watcher took her out. Helped Faith mark herself with a ring around her arm, celebrating her status as a warrior, the defender of her night. Hers alone. They trained together, fought their way across the country, cleansing the night of the plague within. Each kill brought greater satisfaction, more power, and pleasure. She reveled in it.
Imagine her surprise to find out that this power was not hers alone. She was not the first, the only one in the world to fight the violators of the dark. Not hers, but something she had to share, with a Buffy. Light where she was dark. Softness to her hardness. Buffy was delicate. Whereas Faith smelt of the darkness, the smoke, and blood of the night, Buffy was clean, pure, untouched by her death that had brought about a new order to the Slayers. Creating two. And Buffy didn't understand, she didn't see. That the Slayers should be one. Joined. Fighting together, side by side, and falling into each other arms at the end of the night. Tasting each other, the sweat on their skin, touching, caressing and belonging together. Light and Dark, Faith and Buffy, together against the desecrators of the night. They needed each other. But Buffy wouldn't free herself. For one brief moment, they moved together, fought freely, danced with one another, orbited each other, and just touched enough for Faith to know this was right. Finally, she had found her home. She belonged at last.
Just as she had found completion, it was torn from her. Buffy chose the vampire over her, fought her, bled her, and watched as Faith fell, as Lucifer had. Cast out from heaven. Alone again.
For an eternity, there was only blackness. Brief visits to her mate. But nothing that Faith could feel. In the depths of her awareness, deep in her soul, she wept.
Without warning, the veil was lifted, and she was free to rule the night once again. Only this time, there was a gift. From her father, the only one who had put Faith first. In a flash of light, she owned Buffy. All that she had coveted for so long, it was hers. The body of light, ruled by the soul of night. They were as it should be.
Here she was, in the home, belonging to a mother who would never leave. Who wanted her, cared for her above all else. Faith couldn't stop looking at the mirrors, the reflective surfaces, the water in the streets, because each time, she saw the other. Stripping before the mirror, she looked at the body before her. Soft where hers was hard. Unmarked except for the violation of the vampire. Faith's own eyes' bringing her face to see Buffy's reflected back at her. They were together.
Her hands raked through Buffy's blond hair. Tendrils flying out from the sides of her head, caught in the air. Over her face, down to her neck and circling over the bite. Her hands moved to her chest, cupping the breasts, smaller than her own. She watched as her nipples hardened against her fingers, watching in the mirror as Buffy's face reacted in pleasure to the movements over her breasts. Faith moved her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in, wetting them, biting on the tips, her eyes never leaving the mirror as Buffy's stomach contracted and Faith could feel the first drops of moisture wetting her curls, making them glisten in the night.
Her fingers trailed moisture down Buffy's neck, circling her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, pinching them, and watching, as they peaked in the night, pebbling out. So sensitive. Buffy moaned as Faith ran her hand down to Buffy's stomach, laying her hand flat against her. Scratching lightly against her skin, watching as Buffy writhed beneath her hands.
She sank to her knees, one hand spreading Buffy's labia, and grinned at the moisture collected there. Her other hand brushed down over Buffy's clitoris, making them both moan and tremors shook her. Dipping her fingertip inside Buffy, Faith brought her finger back to her mouth, sucking it in, tasting the difference between them. Loving the sweet taste of Buffy, at last. Feeding on Buffy's moisture. Her scent mingling with Faith's own. Her hand went once again to Buffy's breast, cupping it, weighing it, moving in circles around the edge to the nipple and back again. She leaned back on her legs, spreading them further to better see Buffy's vagina. Her other hand went once again to the wet curls between Buffy's legs, pressing against her clitoris, pinching it between two fingers, and Buffy gave a cry in pleasure. First one finger, then another went inside Buffy, curling up against her walls, her thumb moving in quick hard circles around Buffy's clitoris. Her fingers thrust inside Buffy in a quick hard rhythm as her other hand, alternately pinched and caressed Buffy's nipple. She looked at Buffy, flushed with pleasure and panting, and felt the pleasure beginning to pulse through her. Her hands moved faster over Buffy's body, moaning between fast breaths, as Buffy coated her hand with her juices. Her back arched as the pulse of pleasure racked her body over and over again. From her nipples to her vagina, her body sang with Buffy's. The two Slayers finally joined as one. Drawing every last measure of pleasure out of Buffy, Faith looked at her, red and flushed, breathing hard. Buffy's curls were soaked with the evidence of her pleasure.
Her hand withdrew from Buffy's center, her vagina still trembling in the last aftershocks of her orgasm. She ran her fingers up the center of Buffy's body, leaving a trail of fluids in their wake. She rose to her feet, looking at Buffy, marked with the remains of their pleasure. Their skin melding into one another. Stepping closer to the mirror, her eyes reflecting back through Buffy's, Faith smiled. At last. She owned the light. It was hers. Light and dark, Slayer to Slayer, Buffy to Faith, they were together. Want, take, have, five by five. The Slayers were one. One to face the demons of the night. They understood each other at last.
Faith belonged.