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Watching Faith

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27 [Oct. 14th, 2006|11:54 am]
Watching Faith

[Current Location |Faith's apartment]
[mood |hornyso very horny]

My pulse is speeding up dangerously. We are definitely going to do a fair bit of role playing later on. I loved it when she called me "Mr. Pryce". It turned me on even more than the sight of the bare ass she so unashamedly displayed, and that's saying something, because all I want is to drop my pants and take her as she stands, bent over at the waist. It's only a tease, of course, and I fully deserve it after what I did to her.


"If you’ll follow me."


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26 [Oct. 11th, 2006|07:13 am]
Watching Faith

A soft whimper leaves my chest when Wesley finally slips himself out of me and rolls off to the side. If I was with anyone else, I might have thanked them for a fantasmic time, took a shower and shoved them out of the door, and not necessarily in that order.

I’m not with anyone else though, I’m with Wesley, and that changes the grand scheme of things somehow. Instead, I was happy to feel his arms wrap around me and pull our bodies close.

I close my eyes, basking in the silent afterglow, enjoying the feel of Wesley’s fingers as they caress over my bare flesh. I haven’t felt so relaxed in such a long time…hell I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed, every inch of my body feels like it’s still moving beneath the ghost weight of Wesley’s body. The vague sensation draws up the image of Wesley above me, our bodies colliding over an over, and I let out a soft moan.

“Mm.” I mutter. “I want to do that again, and again, and again, and…” The faintest edges of darkness starts to cloud my mind, and I trail off slightly.

My mind enters that state of half awake and half asleep, and I startle myself awake long enough to whisper, “Don’t leave…”
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25 [Oct. 2nd, 2006|07:53 am]
Watching Faith

My brain is a puddle of mush. Getting in late from massive slayage with angel and then hours of studying with Wesley didn’t help. Ano-Movic Demons? Blech! Serious, all demons have this air to them, not to mention I’m sure if you chop them up they’d slime you nice and good.

I asked Wesley last night why we couldn’t just get rid of all the demons. He just stared at me. Looking back on it I was probably just tired. Ano-Movic’s are the lesser of the evils; they try their best to look human and aside from "eating the ex-husband of their bride, because eating the ex's brains creates a happy second marriage." I guess they’re decent enough.

Since Wesley didn’t invite me out with him to deal with the demons, and Angel hasn’t called for me to gear up and meet him somewhere, I’m guessing I have the day to myself. It’s a nice change in pace. Some me time.

The very first thing I did? I decided to shove that box from the mayor into the very back of my closet. I want very much to close the door and lock it but I can’t do that yet.

He’s still a part of me, and I still have clothes in there. If I wasn’t afraid of someone getting a hold of the stuff, I would put it in spare room. Prison life has made me extra paranoid, a good thing if I’m going to be a mother…

Ok so maybe I was jumping the gun, especially with the fact that I haven’t had sex in such a long ass time, but yesterday, before going into Evil Incorporated I bought a book. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I didn’t dare take it into the offices with me, I dropped it back off at home and now I was staring at it on my kitchen counter as I sat on the island with a cup of coffee.

I guess secretly the part of me that dealt with the chances of me having kids hadn’t dealt at all. It still wants it. It wants the chance to be a better mom than mine was, to show the world that I’m not doomed, and that there is at least some small part of me that’s good.

Sliding off of the counter, I take a step closer and stare down at it. I can do this. If the Slayer Guide is right, and I’m sure it always is, then I have to do this. Walking over to the book, I pick it up, and carry it out to my favorite spot on the couch with my coffee in the other hand.

I open the book to the contents and read through them. I guess the place to start would be the beginning; Before You Conceive. The very first thing mentioned? Cutting back on coffee.

What the fuck? How the hell am I suppose to get going in the morning? I don’t drink a lot of coffee anyways, but come on, even I need a cup of jo in the mornings. Curling up on the couch I pull the cup of coffee closer, and took a long slow sip, savoring the taste while I can as I settle into the rhythm of the book
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24 [Sep. 30th, 2006|09:48 pm]
Watching Faith

[Current Location |Wolfram and Hart building, Wesley's office]
[mood |exhaustedexhausted]

A noise in the outer office startles me awake. The screen saver came on, meaning it's been at least fifteen since I fell asleep. My neck hurts when I try to sit up straight in my chair. When I look at the watch, I realize I've been asleep for at least an hour.


"Rebecca," I croak into the intercom.


I hear joints popping and cracking as I unfold off my chair. I wince in pain when I look up at my assistant, feeling as if someone hit my neck with a blunt sword.


"Could you bring me an industrial size coffee cup, please? And hold off any meetings I have for the next few hours."


I hobble to my bookshelves to get all the manuscripts dealing with demons. I have to find some bloody clue who to call to gather some information about the possible whereabouts of one late Richard Wilkins III.


"Thank you," I tell Rebecca who's bringing me the steaming coffee a few minutes later. "I have a feeling I'll ask for a refill soon."


She nods and smiles. I watch her leave the office and realize that I'd miss her if Faith and I ever manage to leave this wretched place.


At my second refill, a few hours later, I'm resigned to the fact that none of my contacts seems to know anything about a big bad demon like Wilkins sticking his head up. This however does not make me relax my vigilance. It only reinforces my belief that I need to get out of the office and do some old school information gathering. I'll have to find an occupation for Faith as I do this. I can't keep her around while I'm looking for Wilkins.


I stand up and go straight to Angel's office. Harmony warns me that the boss is in a meeting.


"Get him out for two minutes. It's important."


Angel comes out with Harmony, and we go into a smaller, empty office.


"I need you to keep Faith busy these days. I think Wilkins might be back. I need to do talk to some people, and I don't want her worrying about him."


Or do something worse than worrying. I don't tell him that.


He agrees to try to keep her occupied and I return to my office, to take a shower before going out.

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23 [Sep. 27th, 2006|07:54 am]
Watching Faith

Watching Wesley dance around with a gourd was really very amusing I couldn’t the grin. When the magic started to rise, I glance over at Wesley one last time. I didn’t know what to say to him, but I think at the moment we were beyond words. Turning my head my eyes connect with the pale amber eyes of the wolf from my dream.

I want to brush my hand over the soft fur of the wolf, but I don’t. It starts to move forward and I follow behind it, keeping a new safe distance between us. For the briefest moment I wonder if the wolf is really wolf, or if it was a human simply in wolf form to guide me. There are stories of Indian’s changing into animal form, why would this be much different?

The wolf leads me between a canyon of rocks, and then just as I thought it was never going to end I came into a vast clearing. I knew my part in all of this. The wood by the pit, the choice of rock and log to sit on. I turn to find the wolf again but it was gone.

I can’t help but wonder how Buffy did everything. Did she sit on the rock or did she sit on the long? Did she put in the wood before that moment when day meets night or did she wait until the last minute? What about the others before? How did they do it? Why does it matter?

One answer covers them all: I don’t know.

I don’t know how Buffy or the others did everything, and I don’t know why it matters. Maybe it matters because I want to be different, or I’m worried I am different. That instead of getting answers I’ll be...shunned.

Pulling my hands from my pockets I walk over to the pit and I start to put the pieces of wood in, one at a time. I know the lists and pieces by heart. Once each piece is in place I sit and I briefly wonder if Wesley’s ok. Of course he is. He’s the one with super, fancy magic spells to protect him.

I take a seat on the log and take a deep breath. Now to wait.

Patience is not something I have, unfortunately. I guess I’m not as bad as before I was in prison. In prison all I had was time. Time to sit, time to read, time to think, time to play over every last detail of my life. This is like prison only without the physical bars. I’ve put my own bars up.

I lift my head at the rustling sound of the wind, and then almost as if on cue with the sun low in the sky the shiver of magic traces it’s way through my body. It was the time when the world was caught between light and dark. A time when the world is at it’s most vulnerable.

Standing from the log I pull the matches from my pockets and set the logs on fire in the five elemental points. It is only a few minutes before the fire is a large blaze. I feel a sense of peace and relaxation swarm through me, and I realize it isn’t my peace that I’m feeling. It’s the primal instinct. Fire fights away the darkness and can kill almost anything.

I don’t move to take a seat again, there’s no need. It’s almost as if she appeared from the flames on the other side of the fire. “You’re the First Slayer?”

“I am the guide.” the figure informs me. Figures, I don’t even get the real First Slayer, even in spirit form. I get a guide in form of the spirit form. Does it take away from all of this? No, not really.

“I need to know…” I hesitate and take a deep breath.

“You want to know what is your purpose.” The guide says slowly making it’s way around the fire towards me. The movements are almost exactly the same. Slow, and calculated; like a predator hunting it’s prey.

“Yeah,“ I say as I start to move away. “Well you know, now there’s a butt-load of Slayers everywhere, and I just don’t think I’m needed anymore.”

“There was a time when there was only the Slayer. We were solitary hunters, and bound by magic to mages to ensure our line would go on. Centuries went by and the world changed. The mages became Watchers, and the Slayers were still the same, but both were destined by blood, and magic.”

We’re circling the fire, my hands safely out of my pockets just in case I should need them. She looks so spry and much more powerful than I am. I can feel her energy like a warm trickle of water down my back

"Watchers and Slayers only had each other, and so it was encouraged that the Slayer and Watcher be everything to one another. Times changed again, procedures changed. It was no longer allowed for a Slayer and Watcher to be what they needed to one another. Times are changing again.”

She leaps through the fire, and tackles me backwards. Our bodies roll away from the fire and her hand is firm on my stomach. “You embraced death as your gift. Now embrace life as your gift.”

I close my eyes and clench my teeth. Trying to understand everything that was said, but it feels like my breath was torn from my lungs. I still feel heavy with the imprint of her body, but when I open my eyes she isn’t there.

“Life is my gift” I mutter as I stand, not bothering to wipe away the sand and dust from my clothes. “Couldn’t tell me if I'm supposed to be receiving or giving this gift and make things easier, could you?” I mutter.

I don’t know how long my conversation with the First Slayer lasted but the fire is almost gone, and I start to make my way back to Wesley’s car. Slayers had been bound to mages through magic, and the mage turned into Watchers. Maybe it’s time I ask Angel for my Slayer handbook again.

I walk through the canyons of rocks, and I pass the spot where Wesley had sat in the center of twigs. A few more feet and I was back at the car, back to Wesley. I feel a sense of relief when I see Wesley. I didn’t realize it before, but I had been afraid he wouldn’t be here when I got back. The fact I cared if he was there was another thing.

“Hey…” There’s something about the dark, in the middle of nowhere that always makes me drop my voice low almost to a whisper. I guess I just don’t want to alert the scary things that lurk in the shadows of the darkness.
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22 [Sep. 26th, 2006|01:35 am]
Watching Faith

[mood |soresore]

After the ocean and dinner we went back to Wesley’s apartment but I don’t think I actually helped with much. I reviewed the ritual over and over, Wesley drilled me until I couldn’t take it anymore and that was that. He did some more research but our conversation was pretty much nil. He asked me a few questions here and there, but over all he just went in and went to bed.

I couldn’t go back into his room, and I didn’t. Instead I spent most of the night doing my own thing. I wrote out a training schedule that I have every intention of starting Monday morning. It was more difficult than the schedule I’d been keeping. Maybe I just want to keep myself busy.

Maybe after the quest it won’t matter.

Tossing the schedule aside on the table next to Wesley's books, I walk over to the box and open it very slowly. Wesley’s asleep but it still feels very wrong to be going through this stuff with him so near. Sliding my hand into the box, I move the black box that holds the knife in it aside with the envelope and lift the dress out. It still looks brand new.

Shaking my head, I gingerly fold it back up and place neatly into the box. Everything with Wilkins was neat. His clothes were pressed every day, his office was utterly clean…god that man hated anything untidy. He hated the hotel I lived in with a fiery passion.

Setting the box aside I glance at the clock and take a deep breath. We were leaving in less than two hours and I still wasn’t sleepy. This would be the last time I was alone until Wesley got up, and then I’d be stuck in his jeep with him for nearly four or five hours. Here’s hoping we don’t piss each other off, or else one of us will be walking home.

Sitting in the middle on the floor near the door, I take another deep breath and slowly let it out. Pulling my legs underneath me, I sat a bit straighter, and pulled my shoulders back giving the impression of good posture. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t.

Another deep breath, and another slow exhale. Another deep breath, and then I hold it for just a moment. I can feel my heart beat accelerate with the new oxygen and then slow dramatically when the oxygen gets old. I exhale. I do this over and over again, my eyes closed. The sound of my breathing is the only thing I hear next to my heart beat.

I was never so great at meditation but it seems to come easier to me today; now, here in Wesley’s apartment. It’s strange and oddly relaxing. I can feel myself relax and let go. It feels good.

I’m very aware of everything in my surroundings. What I’m not aware of is how long I’d been sitting. Slowly, and carefully I roll my body backwards into a lying position; my legs straighten and I slowly lift them up into a vertical ninety degree angel. In one lucid movement I roll back further and tuck my hands up underneath me, lifting myself into a hand stand.

My legs waver for a moment and they press against the door lightly. I can feel the magic barrier protecting Wesley’s apartment and that sudden rush of energy is all it takes for my to get my legs off of the door.

Thankfully it isn’t what breaks my concentration. The sound of coffee mugs clinking together does, and I fall landing on my shoulder an arm with a thud and an oomph.

“Good thing shoulders come in pairs.” I mutter lying face down on the ground--breathing hard.
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21 [Sep. 24th, 2006|11:19 pm]
Watching Faith

[Current Location |Los Angeles]
[mood |contemplativeinquisitive]

"Maybe it's time someone returned the favor," Faith says.

"It's not a favor," I mutter, mostly to myself.


I have many questions for Angel, mingled with regrets and reproaches, but as we enter his office I realize that it all comes down to two things. Did he promise anything else to Wolfram and Hart to get them to alter reality for such a massive number of people and why did he erase Lilah.


Angel is at his desk. I sit on the visitor's chair in front of him.


"How did you get them to do the spell? What did you offer them in return?"


He looks at me in silence. I can see such sadness and regret in the depths of his eyes that I feel almost guilty to harass him. I brought him from the bottom of the ocean, fed him my blood after he had withered almost to the point of no return after Connor had made sure he never surfaces again, and he still fucked us all for the sake of his son.


"Nothing else. Just our agreement to work here."


I don’t know if I can believe him. Time will tell. Time I intend to use to look for the answers I can't trust coming from him. But I still have one more question.


"Why did you erase all my memories of Lilah?"


My voice hasn't even trembled saying the name. I didn't close my eyes at the memory. I'll deal with this later. In private.


"What are you talking about?" Angel asks, looking surprised.


"I'm talking about Lilah Morgan. Former head of Special Projects. Doesn’t ring any bells?"


He shakes his head uncomprehendingly.


"My lover for six months. I couldn’t remember her face, or her name. Did you enjoy knowing that I couldn't remember that she ever existed?"


"Wes, I give you my word, I have nothing to do with that. All I asked was that no one remembers Connor."


"Then who..."


I don’t go on. If Angel hasn't done this, there is only one person who could have. The one who brokered the deal. It would have been easy for her to slip this in the request. Lilah.


Angel seems to reach the same conclusion.


"She probably wanted to give you a chance to start with a clean slate. She must have lov..."


"She didn't love me," I say, standing up abruptly. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Angel. I'll get all the truth," I tell him.


I said it plainly, without the trace of menace I could've put in the words. I'm not looking for vengeance. I want the truth. If he's the one who took Lilah from my mind, in some twisted way, he'd be entitled to do have done it. I took his son and condemned him to eighteen years in hell. It looks like the road to hell is paved with good intentions.


"You know something, in all the years I've known you, I don't think I ever heard you apologize," Angel says.


He's probably right. I take responsibility for my actions, but I don't ever apologize. Feels like a waste of time.


If there's one person on Earth I should apologize to, it's Connor. But I know it won’t make up for his term in hell, so I probably won't apologize to him either.


"See you on Monday," I tell him and walk out.

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20 [Sep. 23rd, 2006|03:05 pm]
Watching Faith

"Enjoy your date."

“Thanks Wes.” I smile, “I’ll call you when I get home. It shouldn’t be too late, but you never know. I try not to restrict myself with time frames on my days off.”

“Call me if you find anything about the dreams?“ I call as I walk into my bedroom and pull on my sneakers. There’s no need to for me to tie and untie them, well I’m sure there is I just don’t bother. As long as the tie holds and the shoe doesn’t fly off I really don’t care.

Pulling my pant leg over the shoe, I straighten and glance in the mirror across the way in the bathroom, looking myself over in the mirror.

I didn’t look too bad. In fact I looked pretty damn good. The shirt does wonders for my chest, and the cross just seems to accent my cleavage. It feels wrong to be going out on a date with Connor, wearing a necklace cross that Wesley gave me.

Walking out of my room, I reach up to unclasp the cross, but the sound of a car honking makes my hands drop. I walk into the kitchen and peer through the blinds of the window above the sink that over looks the street. It’s Connor. I wonder why he didn’t just come up to the door then I realize it’s because Wesley’s jeep is in the drive.

“Gotta go.” I grab my cell phone, keys, ID and money, shoving them all into different pockets. I’m almost sure I won’t need money with me but I’d rather be prepared for anything. Originally I didn’t plan on taking my phone, but if Wesley finds anything I want to know.

Wesley mutters something under his breath but I can’t hear it, and I don’t question. Instead I just follow out of the house behind. I turn my back to the street and pull the door closed. Grabbing my keys, I slide the house key into the locks and turn the key before checking the doorknob to make sure it’s locked.

I turn and find Connor standing in front of Wesley. Had I missed something? I didn’t hear either of them talk. They were staring each other down; A test of wills I guess. I walk over and place my hand on Connor’s arm. A flirty move, yes, but it broke the contest with Connor having the weakest will. I don’t think Wesley would have so much as flinched if I had touched his arm to end it.

“Hey, ready to go?” I ask Connor.

His eyes flick to mine, then to Wesley’s and back to mine. He takes a breath and the tension in his muscles seem to recede instantly. “Yeah, I’m ready. Wesley.” he says with a nod.

“I’ll see you later Wes.” I remove my hand from Connor’s arm as I start for Connors car. He unlocks the door and opens it but he doesn’t hold it open for me. Smart kid. I step down from the curb of the sidewalk in front of my house and get in closing the door.

The car smells like Connor. So much in fact that it doesn’t take long for the thoughts of the dream last night to start to fade away. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

“You might kick ass in training, but paintball is my specialty. I play every weekend.” Connor says as he starts the car and pulls away from the curb. There’s a slight rush when he pulls away from the curb fast.

“Careful, it’s Saturday and there are kids out playing.”

Connor spares a second to look at me before placing his eyes back on the road. There must’ve been a look on my face because he quickly sobered up. I think he was just showing off because Wesley had been there.

I’m surprised when we get to the paintball range to find out that it’s classic paintball. No air soft guns; just balls of paint that you throw at one another. We’re handed a pair of coveralls that we both pull on over our clothes, safety goggles and a side shoulder messenger back that holds the paintballs.

I’m amused to see that it looks like the messenger bag I have stuff full of Slayer paraphernalia. These messenger bags are filled with one color each; I gave him the bright neon red ones. If I’m going to be covered in a paint it’s going to a funky red instead of safety guard yellow.

“You still sure you can take me?” I ask him sliding the safety goggles on.

“Yeah well I was MVP for my high school baseball team. I think I’ll do alright.” He answers with a grin putting on his own safety goggles. We both saddle ourselves with messenger bag and take off to the course.

Seek and destroy is the name of the game. As a Slayer I’m natural tracker, but sometime tells me so is Connor. There’s hundreds of things to hide behind, or to use as cover . I take a cheap shot and hit him with the first one right out the gate. His back now had a big, bright yellow target on it. I take off in the opposite direction before he can turn and peg me with one of his own.

I can’t count the minutes we’ve been there, and I stopped counting after the fifth paintball was smashed on top of my head, coating it the red color. What I do know is that I’m having fun. I’m mid-throw when Connor’s phone starts to ring. He bows his head and I can hear the smack of the ball hitting his face.

“Oh shit. Connor are you ok?” I ask, trying not to laugh at the fact that the entire side of his face was now yellow.

“You’ll pay for that.” He jokes pulling his phone from his pocket an answering it. “Hello? Oh, hey Angel. Yeah I’m with Faith, why?”

My ears prick up at this and I listen intently as I come to stand by Connor’s side.

“Vail?” he asks, he looks at me apologetically, and I give him a small smile. I don’t need to listen anymore. I step off the course and take off the coveralls while grabbing my phone. I hit the number 2 and press send--it’s Wesley’s speed dial number.
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19 [Sep. 22nd, 2006|12:57 pm]
Watching Faith

Dreams on their own are strange. The average person has more than one dream a night but might only remember one or two, if any at all. As a Slayer I have a tendency to remember most of my dreams. They don’t always make sense but every now and then there’s a prophetic one thrown in.

Last night was no exception. My dreams started off simple; a warm, tropical white sand beach, and the sound of the surf crashing on land. I love the ocean. It was one of the reasons I went from Boston to Sunnydale. I could have cared less about the hellmouth it was just an extra perk. I love that I’m a Slayer. I love that I have purpose…had purpose.

It was that thought in my dream that changed everything. I was no longer on the sandy beach, but in the sandy desert. A time when the world had vast empty land, and a different sort of shelter for all beings on the earth. I know where I am going, and I know that when I get there the First Slayer will be waiting.

The part of me that knows this is a dream also knows that the First Slayer waits for no one she must be called, but when I am there someone already lit the fire and called her for me. She isn’t what I expected physically but her presence is. She is strong, a force to be reckoned with.

I dance around the fire trying to avoid her touch. I’m afraid of her and I should be. She was the First Slayer, she is primitive and relies only on instinct. She tires of our game and leaps through the flames of the fire. I’m amazed with she doesn’t cry out in pain. I’m even more amazed when it appears that likes the feel of the flames licking at her skin.

Maybe it’s because she isn’t alive anymore and here, reanimated in my dreams she feel again. Her spry body lands onto of mine and her bottomless black eyes bear into my own as her hand digs into my lower stomach.

“Now.” The word comes from a closed mouth, and carries on a sudden wind that hadn’t been there before. I realize now that she tapped our Slayer connection and whispered the word through my head.

I close my eyes. Now what? Now is the time to come see her? Now is the time for what? I open my eyes and I’m no longer in the desert. I’m lying on a bed staring into a chest that seems vaguely familiar. I know the voice that accompanies the well defined body, but I can’t place them to the face or name no matter how familiar.

My dream shifts again and I’m standing in the kitchen of a large house with a tub of ice cream balanced on my stomach that’s roughly the size of a basketball. I’m pregnant. Oh god I’m pregnant. My dreams start to flash faster, and I only catch glimpses of a child’s life growing from an infant, to a toddler, to their first day of school.

…and then my eyes open. I’m awake. It was all just a dream. Just a dream I tell myself over and over. At first it was to comfort myself but then I realize it isn’t much of a comfort at all. Throwing the blankets aside I walk into my bathroom and stand in front of the mirror.

I look at myself and try to see myself as a pregnant woman, but I can’t. I pull the waistband of my boxers down lower on my stomach and I caress the only scar that continues to live on my body. It’s light now, but I remember a time when it wasn’t. I remember when the knife slid into me at the hand of Buffy, just like it had slid into others at my own hand.

I caress my fingers over the scar and take a deep breath. I remember when I woke up out of my coma. I remember the chart. The blade had caught my left ovary, and when I plummeted onto the passing truck the wound tore. The chances of children were less than 15%.

I can’t think about this anymore. I put the waistband of my pajamas back in place and slowly turn from the mirror. I got what I deserved. I got what I had done to others before me, and the world saw to it that the chances there were be a mini-me running around were damn near nil.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and walk from my bathroom to my bedroom and out. I had other things I needed to think about; like my date with Connor. Oh fuck me. I hadn’t spared a single thought for him in nearly 12 hours. The sudden thought of him brought my fingers to my lips and I smile a little. His lips were full, soft and firm against my own. If the boy knew anything it was definitely how to kiss.

Walking out into the kitchen I turn on the coffee pot and glance at my phone. I hadn’t been in here since last night when Wesley dropped me off. I stare at the phone for a long moment before picking it up and dialing Wesley’s cell. It’s Saturday morning, he’s either still asleep or busy working. I’m almost thankful when his voicemail picks up.

“Hey Wes, it’s Faith. Just calling to see if you need any help with the demon slime I left in your car last night. Sorry about that. Give me a call if you need anything. I’ll have my phone with me until about 1:45 this afternoon before I go out to the paintball place. Talk to you later.”

There it was brief, to the point, and I even made a joke about last night and the demon slime…sort of. Walking over to the coffee pot, I open the cupboard above it and pull out coffee mug that had my name printed on it in what looks like an elegant cursive.

Today will be a good day if only because my favorite cup is clean. I should thank Wesley when I see him. He’s the only one that’s loaded, and unloaded the dishwasher after running it.
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18 [Sep. 21st, 2006|11:16 am]
Watching Faith


We're in front of the Bryce mansion. I get out of the car to open the door for Virginia. She doesn't seem disappointed when I don't make any attempts to join her inside. I had told her I need to return to work halfway through dinner. She must be all too used with my working habits to do anything than roll her eyes a little.


I worry that she knows me well enough to see that I was thinking of another woman all through dinner. She might not know it's Faith, but she can still sense that there is someone special in my life.


"I was hoping you might get over the way we broke up," she says, her tone sounding just the little bit accusatory.


"I did. I think you really cared about me, and knowing that I face a dozen ways of getting killed every day was too hard. I understand why you left, but not much changed in my life, Virginia. I may work in an office, but still do the same thing."


"Be careful, Wes," she says and kisses me softly on the cheek before going into the house.


What I told her was the truth. I understood it on a somewhat rational level before... before Faith. Speaking of Faith, I pull over and dial her cell.


"Hi, Faith, I'm on my way back. Meet me in the parking lot in half an hour, okay?"


On the drive to the Wolfram and Hart building, I consider my feelings for Faith. I tried to stop myself, but I can't. I'm falling deeper in love with Faith every day. It feels like the harder I try to pull away, the more I'm drawn to her. Damn it, even the attempts to push her into Connor's direction, backfired. I'm constantly angry when I know they're together. I always imagine their bodies, so young and well matched in physical strength, melded together, limbs tangled, mouths pressed against each other, tongues dueling... I grip the steering wheel tightly, carefully erasing that image from my mind.


I can't fall in love with her. I can't afford it. I've never been jealous before in my life. Well, I was on Fred and Gunn, but nothing like the searing hot feeling in my chest. I step on the gas, willing to push out of my mind all thoughts of Faith that don't pertain to work before meeting her.


Once I'm in the parking lot, I get out of the car to look for Faith. I know she hates it, but I still intend to open the car door for her. I see her a few yards away. With Connor. I clench my fists watching them as I wait for Faith to come to me.

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