summary: two lost souls find comfort with each other
author's notes: this is my first faith/angel fic. it just
begs to be made into a series. time will tell. though i just
know if it goes on, buffy's gonna show up and my little b/a
lovin' obsessive heart will crush the budding romance. *g*
In a single human heartbeat, things can change.
"Is it the slayer thing? I mean, I guess I'd understand, you
having a hard-on for slayers. The danger buzz alone . . .
probably why I've got a thing for vampires. I was just sort
of . . . You know, cause of what we just did. I know you
miss B, and . . ."
"Faith, if you have something to say, just say it."
"Is it the slayer thing?"
Cool hands smoothed their way along her pale stomach. His
flesh was no less pale, but it was a result of his
non-existent body temperature, his inability to go out in
the sun. Her pallor came from a fear of daylight, the
inability to look past her own darkness and see the light
she was called into.
That, and the dark make-up under her eyes. Never
underestimate what thick, black circles can do for a girl's
"Why would you ask me that?" His voice was even enough, but
she detected something beneath the surface. A darkness that
rivaled her own, a demon longing to be un-caged, set upon
the world to rip it apart, and howl in its triumph.
A shrug was her answer.
A sigh was his non-verbal contribution to their
"I been outta prison for what . . . a month now? And in case
you haven't noticed, you're hot, and I'm horny on a good
Snorting, he shook his head. "Faith, don't--"
"Don't what? Be honest? Cause I'm telling you, boss, I don't
see how I can afford to be anything but at this particular
point in my life."
He looked down, uncomfortable with the fact that she was
right. His path to redemption was rocky, and he'd been on it
for nearly a hundred years, in one way or another. She'd
been at it barely a year, and already, she seemed to know
more than he did. Slayer's burden, always knowing what was
expected of them, even when it was unfair.
"Don't call me boss. It's creepy now. Makes me feel like a
dirty old man."
A grin split across her face, a genuine one, and he was
pleased to have put it there. "You are a dirty old man."
The unselfish, jovial woman he'd brought home from prison a
month ago was starting to rub off on him. As had happened
with Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn before her, humanity was
starting to re-assert itself in his life. Faith had chased
away the darkness that had almost consumed him, soul or no,
and she'd scared it so terribly he nearly believed it
wouldn't dare return.
With the others, the ones he thought of as his family, he
was terrified on their behalf. It scared him when he thought
about what his enemies might do to their frail, human
bodies, and it horrified him when he thought of what =he=
might be capable of doing to them, body and mind. He
remembered, all too well, the hell his demon had put Buffy
and her friends through.
What kind of man, monster or no, would he be if he allowed
it to happen again, to another set of people who trusted
Faith, though . . .Faith could hold her own. No matter how
deep she got, she would be able to see, to understand if
something went wrong, exactly what she'd have to do. And she
didn't love him like Buffy had, with all her heart and her
considerable strength of conviction. If anything, Faith
loved him like a brother. A brother she'd just had sex with
. . .
Refusing to draw any comparisons with vampire lineage, he
shut that train of thought down quickly. No need to dwell.
His attention was drawn back to her, wide brown eyes filled
with all her insecurities. In that moment, she was
vulnerable to him, and he knew exactly what that cost her.
"Why aren't you evil?"
He couldn't help it. He winced. That was a question he
hadn't wanted her to ask, the answer to which he'd
considered briefly before getting swept away earlier. There
was so much they didn't know about his curse, so much that
was unclear . . . just what was 'perfect happiness,' anyway?
Obviously, given that his soul was still firmly tethered to
his body, it wasn't synonymous with 'orgasm.'
Apparently, the look on his face was all the answer she
needed, because she laughed bitterly. "Right. Not Buffy.
Like I could make someone happy just by screwing them."
Carefully, not wanting to startle her, Angel moved closer to
her until their bodies touched. His palm still rested
against her stomach, and some part of him delighted in the
feel of her breathing.
"I have a theory," he said quietly, noting that she held her
breath, her pulse speeding almost imperceptibly. "Would you
like to hear it?"
Once more, she allowed an inelegant shrug serve as her
"There is nothing in this world that scares me more than
letting the demon free again. It scares me so badly, that
two years ago, on Christmas, I tried to kill myself."
Her eyes widened, and he felt a pang of gratitude toward
Buffy. The two slayers had been close then, and he was
intensely thankful she'd kept his confidence, not telling
the others how close he'd come to the edge.
"Maybe that fear keeps me from being truly happy. Maybe the
terror is enough to keep my soul with me, no matter what."
Faith nodded, and they both accepted what he said, though it
was a hollow acceptance at best.
"So what now?"
Small and afraid, her voice got his protective hackles up.
Cordelia would call it his knight-in-shining-armor complex.
The sad thing was, he had to agree with her.
Slowly, he let his hand slide along her skin, between her
breasts, his touch as soothing as it was sensual. When his
palm reached her face, he cupped her cheek gently, turning
her head until they were facing one another.
"We go on," he said quietly. "I need you, Faith. Right now I
need you more than I've ever needed anyone."
"You're the one who fired your support system," she
chastised lightly, laying her hand against his chest, over
his un-beating heart.
"I had to," he whispered.
"Shh," she soothed, bringing her other hand to his head,
fingers gently sifting through his hair. "I know. Chances
are, I'd of done the same. Doesn't make it any easier to
Tears stung his eyes at her words. It never got easier in
his life. Only harder. Gently but firmly, she brought his
head to her breast, and he let her, shutting his eyes,
feeling true comfort for the first time in longer than he
could remember at the moment.
"I need you, too," she whispered into his hair.
"I promised to save your soul," he managed to get out, his
throat clogged with tears he would not shed. If he started
crying out all the sorrow in his heart, he would weep for
"So we'll save each other." He felt her smile against his
head. "Things change. Just gotta go with the flow."
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