Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

By Reema and Masha
For Mad Poetess

"I know why it won't kill me," Faith says. She scuffs a booted foot over new desert, hits something, or, the thought occurs to her kind of inevitably now, somebody. She realizes that she is smiling her exhilarated, on-a-mission smile. "It kills, like, good things? Right?"

Willow touches the dried mud caked on her face, looks at her. Faith takes it as prompt. "I mean..."

"We're okay," Willow says ambiguously. Her khakis are wet? Oh. Rain. She sticks her tongue out to catch the drops. Faith smiles. And then, Willow is being kissed. It's unexpected, and it's yielding, and it reminds her of Tara. Willow used to think that Faith would kiss hard, back when she didn't think about what girls would kiss like.

"Aw, shit," Faith says, incongruously clean hands wiping water dramatically from her pants. "These are leather."

"It's a look," Willow says. They continue walking. The not-so-desert repels the rain like it's sheeted with plastic. Willow conjures two coats, and they fall closely to each girl's shoulders. Faith eyes Willow dubiously.

"I know," Willow says. "But it's kind of... moot, now." She tucks hair behind her ears, and Faith thinks of slow, smoldering coals; she shudders against the rain.

"Actually, I was thinking that it was kind of like *Bewitched*. Kind of cool. I didn't know you could do that."

"Oh," Willow looks down. "You saw me do the thing back there with the fire?"

"I saw." There's note of admiration in there, and Willow, for a second, allows herself to feel pride. She presses her arms into closed shapes.

"Hey," Faith says. "We defend the people. Our methods are maybe not out of a handbook, but you gotta say," Faith surveys the torched grounds. "They're wicked effective."

"Wicked," Willow agrees.


The angles of Willow's face soften suddenly. "I think he's alive."

Faith purses her lips. She falls to her knees, heedless of her outfit. "No," she says. She carefully tilts the neck. Instinct brings her palm to her pocket, but she hesitates and defers. "What should we do?"

"Oh my God," Willow murmurs. "Oh my God."

Faith's stake is out and ready but Willow stays her hand. "No. I can fix this."