Don’t Die
1. “Little Miss Muffet counting down from 7-3-0.”
Nothing good ever came of hot and heavy make out sessions in cemeteries.
It was the stuff of horror movies for a reason after all, but for two slayers…the adrenaline that blazed through their veins made such death defying acts of mocking fate seem like second nature. Or maybe it was the twenty-something hormones. They could definitely be a factor.
Kill. Make out/cop a feel/fuck. Eat. Usually in that order, but not always.
Or at least it had been that way ever since the two original Chosen Ones had given into their mutual attraction to one another and doubled patrol time not only as a way to rid the world of evil, but also to get their sexy on when business was slow. At least to second or third base, usually not much more while they were hunting, but something to release the immense urge they felt to touch one another was all they needed. Sometimes they almost made it all the way to fucking depending on how hard that other H was riding them after dusting a few blood bags who thought they were all that sneaking up on the two writhing lovers like they had signs tacked to their asses that screamed: FREE MEAL.
Besides all that, cemeteries weren’t exactly places that seethed with sexual energy, but for Buffy and Faith, wherever they went together crackled with electricity.
It was a Tuesday evening and patrolling through “Sunny Hell’s” largest cemetery wasn’t turning up that many vamps for the dusting, so the two slayers had turned to themselves for entertainment. Faith has Buffy propped up against one side of a mausoleum, running her hands worshipfully along the curves of her body as her lips dropped from her girlfriend’s mouth to her neck. Then, quickly and without warning, she leans her hips hard into the V between Buffy’s legs, causing a low moan to rise from her throat as Faith nips at the juncture of the blonde’s neck and shoulder. The painful pleasure of teeth sinking gently into her skin jolted Buffy out of her horny fantasies. Against everything her body was telling her, Buffy raised a hand and pushed gently against Faith’s chest, separating them so that they were looking into one another’s eyes.
“Faith—no marks,” Buffy admonished softly without conviction as her girlfriend easily resealed the distance between them and pressed their bodies back together. “People will see.”
“No people here, B.” Faith mumbled against her neck contentedly between hot open mouthed kisses, “Well, no one above ground that is. ‘Sides, never took you as the bashful type.”
They’d been dating since a year or so after Faith had arrived back in Sunny D. Faith’s recovery had been slow and it had taken all of the Scoobies, not just Buffy most of that year just to get used to the dark slayer’s presence again as well as the growing evidence that Faith wasn’t the criminal they’d originally brushed aside and simply labeled beyond help. The cold hard knowledge that they’d misjudged her—that Buffy had misjudged her—had helped convince everyone that Faith deserved a second chance to stand up and be recognized by them.
What Buffy hadn’t counted upon was falling in love with this new and improved version of Faith. It happened quickly—quicker than either girl realized. After months of constantly being in one another’s company, it had been hard for them, painful even, not to acknowledge the feelings that had been growing between them and once it happened, both slayers sort of decided they didn’t care if it was supposed to or not. They were together and they were happy for better or worse, the world and the reactions of miffed friends be damned.
Nothing was ever easy between them as a couple. Buffy and Faith did have their hostile arguments and the fast and furious make up sex that almost inevitably followed, but for the most part their relationship had been a love fest for the duration of its nine month existence and they both hoped it would continue that way.
“I’m serious, Faith. Kids on campus seeing, I don’t care about, but how would I explain teeth marks or a hickey to my mother?”
“Easy, you start with, ‘Hey mom, I met this really smokin’ hot chick at school and one thing led to another and—”
“Ew! I would never give my mom an explanation like that!” The blonde gasped, trying to get the scenario out of her head. Imagining something happening was always worse than the actual thing, but still, “Just, no.”
Faith’s sultry grin cracked and she laughed out loud. Then she leaned away from Buffy and took her hand gingerly, leading them back into the moonlit cemetery with a playful smile and away from make-out land for now. It’s amazing the difference a moment makes, Buffy thought. In one, Faith could be subdued, gentle; almost docile. The next she was like a wild animal out of control and untamed, throwing expletives out at every turn as she seamlessly fought a vamp or made love to her girlfriend. There was such a difference between a whirlwind and a warm breeze that it was hard to believe sometimes that they both came from the same source, but Faith; she was proof and she was beautiful.
“Honestly, Buffy, why you freakin’? I mean you’re mom’s pretty cool and shit for a mom. If she can handle that you’re a slayer and you march out every night to kill big bads, I’m pretty sure her noticing you’ve got yourself a little love bite won’t hit any nerves.”
“Yeah, but me being a slayer doesn’t necessarily remind her that I also have a sexy slayer girlfriend I like to sleepover with in my dorm room all the time whereas a hickey kind of would never let her forget the fact that we have sex almost every chance we get.”
Faith rolled her eyes, “yeah cause your mom realizing that you’re getting some would be worse than another apocalypse.”
“It would!” Buffy whined, smiling despite herself. “At least if the world ends, I don’t have to face the awkward ‘you’re an adult, but you’re still my daughter’ speech for the one hundredth time from my mom.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, B. It’s cool.” Faith said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively.
They stopped walking and just looked at one another, dark brown eyes settling intensely into light blue. Buffy recognized the disguised fear there and immediately took a step forward, planting a hand on Faith’s cheek and guiding her down for a soft kiss. Normally their kisses were heated and rushed and overflowing with passion and the overwhelming need to connect on a level neither one of them had ever been able to do with another living soul.
It was something unique to them, they knew. Something about two slayers falling in love that sweetened the pot and made everything they felt pull them both along like an undertow that could swallow them both up at any moment. Even for a chaste and reassuring kiss like this, the emotions that rose up inside of them like spikes in their chests were penetrating and profound in a way neither Buffy or Faith truly understood.
It was suddenly quiet. The ever constant chirp of crickets in the surrounding grass couldn’t be heard. A silent breeze blew around the graveyard, causing fallen leaves to billow out behind them like waves as the night surrendered and only the chosen two were left, staring at one another as if they were starved for the contact.
“You know I love you right? As in more than I can put into words sort of love?” Buffy whispered sincerely, the truth of it reflected in her eyes as she searched Faith’s.
The other slayer’s confident smile spread into a satisfied grin and she looked down briefly at her boots, all of her bravado gone for one moment as Faith’s rarest colors showed themselves. As a person, she tried her best to never appear bothered by anyone or anything, but feelings—yeah, they brought out a shy vulnerability in her that Buffy found irresistible.
“You might’ve let it slip out once or twice, no big,” Faith murmured almost as if she didn’t believe it.
She knew she should say it too. Say ‘I love you’, back like normal couples were supposed to. But Faith had so little practice even hearing those words directed at her from another person’s lips that she didn’t seem to know how to repeat them to Buffy, even if ‘I love you’ was a vicious understatement for the emotions Faith felt for her blonde girlfriend. Buffy watched Faith squirm, finding it cute and seemingly waiting for something. When the silence began to stretch between them, Buffy smiled knowingly—if a little sadly—and leaned forward again to capture Faith’s lips. This kiss was soft like the one before it, but longer, as if lingering to convey something bigger than either of them. When they separated, their eyes met again.
“You know, B, I ain’t the sentimental type and I wish I could say it to you, just once you know?”
Buffy smiled, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight, “I know. You don’t have to say anything. I already know. And while I would love to hear you say it, I know I’ll hear it someday when you’re ready. So, for now I can afford to be patience girl for a little while longer.”
Faith smiled even though the hair on the back of her neck was standing up, the slayer inside of her letting her human counterpart know that something was stalking. The smile transformed itself into a grin that Buffy mirrored.
“Do you feel them?” Faith asked so lightly that only slayer hearing could pick it up while keeping her eyes locked with Buffy’s.
“Yeah, two behind you. One behind me,” Buffy confirmed.
“Crafty fuckers, I’ll give them that.”
“Not for long. You ready?” Buffy asked.
Faith nodded and dropped immediately to her knees, rolling to the side and out of the way as Buffy threw her stake, nailing one of the two vampires that had been advancing on Faith square in the chest. It combusted into a cloud of surprised dust as Faith jumped up and threw the vampire that had been gunning for Buffy up against a gravestone before it could lunge for her.
These vamps—clumsy and lacking in fighting prowess—were obviously newborns. They didn’t seem as disoriented as most though and—if it was possible—they were a tad bit stronger than the other vamps Faith and Buffy were used to facing. Buffy dodged a punch from her vampire easily and kicked him in the nose, causing him only to wobble back on his feet a little before he took advantage of the blonde’s momentary distraction and swept her feet out from under her. Faith’s vampire was built more like a linebacker and moving him at all was proving to be quite a work out. He absorbed blows like a punching bag and kept on standing like getting beat on by a slayer was nothing.
Christ, what are these bastards made of? Concrete? Faith wondered as one of her fists painfully connected with an undead jaw that felt like solid rock underneath. She might as well have been punching thin air for as much good as it was doing her at this point. Damn! What were these fuckers on? Roids? If vampires could get any actual help from steroids, Faith was pretty sure hers was a number one customer.
Faith kicked him again and the vampire only grunted, deflecting her heavy foot with a forearm as if she were little more threatening than a bee.
“That all you got, Slayer?”
“Don’t get too cocky, Fangboy. I’m just warming up.”
“I’d rather get this show on the road if it’s all the same to you, bitch.”
“Why? Doubt you’ve got a date hotter than me waiting for ya.”
Faith’s vampire took the bait and launched himself at her, snarling. Surprising the hell out of herself, Faith spun out of the way of the attacking vamp and fielded every one of the subsequent blows he dealt. Her voice stilted as she emphasized every word with a block or reciprocal punch as she continued to mock her prey.
“You. Are. One…umph. Ugly. Fuck. Man.”
In retrospect, Faith was aware that goading on a vampire that was somehow freakishly stronger than her wasn’t the smartest of decisions, but she preferred to think with her slayer during a fight and her slayer wasn’t afraid of anything.
Faith spared a look at Buffy. The blonde was on the defensive now, spinning and dodging, using her smaller size and superior speed to tire her vampire out. He lashed out again and again at the small blonde, growling as his overly large fists collided with a headstone or thin air instead of the girl who was taunting him.
One of the things Faith had always admired about Buffy—after her hot, hot body of course—was how she was able to adapt her slaying style mid-fight to fit the opponent whose ass she was currently kicking. Her flexibility and quick-wittedness made Buffy an anomaly among all the slayers who had comer before her, according to Giles at least, and that was just one of the reasons Faith could name for why Buffy was special. And she was more proud of Buffy than she could ever put into words. Faith however has less, well, faith in her own abilities. Faith knew she wasn’t stupid and as a fighter she was definitely on par with Buffy, but her style was different.
Faith had never been that flexible in her approach to fighting. Kick ass and don’t die were the basic rules she followed. The details—the punching, kicking, maiming, killing, and stabbing—were left up to instinct to sort out.
And Faith’s instincts had never let her down.
Until now.
It happened to every slayer at least once. The test was whether or not they were lucky enough to survive it.
Buffy hadn’t been the first time around when the Master had sunk his teeth into her neck and overpowered her. If it hadn’t been for the love and devotion of her friends—she wouldn’t be here now. No other slayer before or after Buffy had ever been so lucky. Kendra surely hadn’t. Misjudging Drusilla just that fraction of a second that it took for the vampire to stare into her eyes and immobilize her had been her undoing. India Cohen had moved just a fraction of an inch too little out of the way of a Fyarl demon’s claws and their tearing into her throat had allowed for Buffy Summers to be reborn before the red spray of blood had even slowed from the gaping hole in the older girl’s neck.
The inevitable loss of life—it was part and parcel of what being a slayer was all about. How easy it was to die was one of the first things a Watcher ever taught their charges. Their first experience in the field with an actual vampire was eye opening because it reminded every slayer that beneath the super girl exterior they were still mortal, still human, and still very killable. Faith had built walls up around herself her entire life to help her forget just how vulnerable she really was on the inside and as a slayer, it was something she didn’t like to acknowledge. The essence of the First Slayer that ran through her veins and gave her strength didn’t like to admit that it was mortal, but in times like this one, Faith was always reminded of just how short her life could actually be.
Her vampire snarled as Faith summoned all of her strength and threw him back against a headstone. The grave marker broke in half and the vampire glanced quickly up at her in surprise before realizing completely what had happened and flipping up onto his feet. He pulled a fist sized bundle from a pocket that immediately yielded a thin, four inch blade with the touch of a button.
Faith sprang back into a defensive stance and momentarily considered running, but quickly banished the idea from her thoughts. The vampire lashed out at her with his knife hand. The clumsy, narrow slashes were easy to dodge in the beginning, but the angrier the blood bag grew, the more focused his attacks became. Faith dodged another jab just in time to hear the blade rip through her jacket though the lack of pain let her know that she had been lucky enough for the weapon to miss her skin.
She quickly glanced over at Buffy. The other slayer had knocked her vampire into a headstone as well and before it could rise she dropped down onto her knees on top of him and drove the stake home into his chest. Faith grinned. That’s my girl, she thought, wincing as she heard the switchblade slice another hole in her jacket as she swiveled away. She’d seen the vampire change direction out of the corner of her eye before he was on her and she might have managed to dodge and roll out of the way had her back not connected so solidly with someone’s obelisk that it knocked the air out of lungs completely. Then it came, the sharp, quick, burning agony of the switchblade quickly jamming between her ribs.
Son of a fucking whore, it hurts!
Faith gasped loudly as the knife was wrenched from her chest and driven home again swiftly just a few centimeters beneath the original wound. The burning, the pain, it was dizzying. Faith slumped back against the obelisk. She wanted to push the dickhead who was hurting her away. She wanted to struggle and scream and beat his brains out all at once, but even though the will was in her, the strength just wasn’t. Her muscles and organs were in shock at the intrusion of an unclean object into their midst had paralyzed her.
“Faith!”
Suddenly, the vampire was ripped away from her and Faith slid down to the ground like her legs were made of Jell-O. She closed her eyes and heard the snarling of the vampire as it was beaten down by her enraged girlfriend and dusted into the wind. Then there was the sound of quickly moving feet and Faith suddenly felt surprisingly warm hands on her face.
“Faith! Faith open your eyes!”
Faith wanted to do what Buffy wanted, she wanted to open her eyes and be able to reassure the panicking blonde that she was overreacting and that Faith would be able to walk it off just like most of the injuries she got during a fight. But this time was different. The intense pain in her chest that had paralyzed her in the first place was ebbing away into a dull throb beneath a feeling of complete weightlessness. It was as if she were at the dentist’s office and the attendant had put that silly little mask over her face and she was counting down to ten, slowly drifting off, but this time she suddenly felt the need to fight it. With whatever fortitude Faith still possessed, she struggled to remain conscious.
Strangely, her senses were still registering certain things very vividly. Things like the cold scent of damp fall leaves that littered the grass all around them. Or of that flowery spray Buffy liked to wear whenever they went out together, even if it was just to patrol. She could even smell the coppery scent of her own blood as it left her body as easily as if it were air on her lips. Second, she registered the sounds of Buffy’s quickened breathing, the not so subtle cracking of emotion in her voice as she rambled that Faith was going to be fine, that everything was going to be fine with more fear than conviction. Faith wanted to open her mouth and say something, anything to reassure Buffy that it was going to be okay, but she knew, Faith could already feel that this time was different. The numbness was overwhelming now. It was as if the anesthetic had finally filled her completely and it was time to float away. To sleep. Her breathing became shallower, less necessary. Then without any ceremony at all—no flashes of memory or regrets or wants—everything stopped.
“Faith! No, no, no, no, NO!”
Buffy kept shouting the word over and over again in an endless loop as if it were the incantation that would magically be able to reverse the effects of the blood releasing Faith’s life from her body second by second. But it didn’t help. Death—in this instance—was beyond the reach of magic. The blonde grabbed onto the lapels of Faith’s ridiculously soft leather jacket and shook her, hard, but the dark slayer didn’t open her eyes. Even as Buffy screamed her name over and over again with every gut wrenching sob that left her throat in a wet gurgle, there was nothing that could be done.