Death and Deja Vu
by Alexandra J. Campbell aka FuffyChick45
Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Joss is god, and I can't compare...yet.;) His characters, his world, don't own, don't sue.
Author's Notes: Set during S6. A bit of a remake of 'Smashed', that alludes to 'Double Meat Palace', which actually happens after, but oh-the-fuck well, better this way :p
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated and extremely helpful, smut (or attempted) ain't my thing...

+1=2+

PART 1

She smirked at me cockingly, expectantly. It's the type of look that makes me think she knows I crave her and she does it all to torture me. Truth is, she's been a bitch since I got back.

"Isn't that right Faith?" Twinkie breaks the revelrie.

"Yeah B, whatever." And I go along as if I didn't see the gaze, as if I was paying attention, as if she's not boinking Willy to get off and feel a lil somethin', somethin'. I'll make you fucking feel.

Guess that's where it started, pool of sweetness flooding up my pussy while I was bullshitting the night away outside the Double Meat on patrol, watching the bleach blond moron serve up a shit piece of ass, with the fries and shake to go, to MY girl. I went rampant, consumed without consuming.

Had my share of food, violence, and was just about to go back to mine to 'kill some kittens' when I spot Spike screwing her into a brown, brick wall, as if she was ever his.

Empty-eyed and gone, she sank into nothing the way she used to sink into me, back in the day. Buzzin while watching the flutter of her lids, closing them up as her head tipped back, urking out a moan akin to hard-core porn. I can feel the heat from the bump and grind from here, I'm throbbing.

I zip my fly down and just as I'm about to start stroking up against a streetlight her god-damned eyes meet mine, and I thought it was just me the way her hips picked up against him. I lick my lips adrift.

"HellllOOooooO, psycho Slayer?" That brings me back.

"Fuck you B." I grab my coat with a huff and walk out for some air. I take it in the ass already, no way the necrowhore's gonna get away with calling me psycho, hitting that cold, dead piece of shit.

My whole body shakes inward. I pop a cig in my mouth, which quickly turns into four, as I chain smoke my way through the next fifteen, twenty minutes for them to close down shop on search for a diamond eating, people freezing demon, lord knows don't exist. Through dim lit I make her out, toss down the butt, smash it beneath my heel, and trail her through the alley.

"You got a lot of nerve blondie." She spins, seething, oh look, it's the 'holier than thou' pose she's famous for, least in her own mind, and maybe mine. We're face to face, sizing each other up, just a lil deja vu.

"Nerve? You're supposed to be in jail you second-rate street skank." I glare for a moment and take it in, let my pupils dilate before I grin back wickedly and allow myself to utter the words sure to set her off.

"Well yeah," I nod as if she's said something incredibley profound that I haven't been privy too on a daily basis and finish with slitted eyes, "And you're supposed to be dead."

The first blow comes hard against my face like a bad case of whiplash, followed quickly by another two, I reach across the sting and chuck her to the steps of an abandoned building.

"Best you fucking got?" I taunt her. She leaps off the steps and struts forward in only the way we would.

"No, unlike you, I get better with age." A round-house sends me to the stairs myself. Next thing I know she takes me by my jacket and whips me into the building, busting the door in the process.

Her breath ragged I stand up in stance and wait for her to attack again, blocking with one hand, punches thrown in a flurry with the other.

"You like that," I connect again. "Ain't the only thing you respond to."

With that she takes back control and shoves my body hard against the nearest wall, our mouths collide savagely, syncronized.

I got a fist full of hair and a lip gushing blood being sucked down by the person who put it there.

I hike her leather skirt up and peel her panties down, hand gone hot when it reaches her cheeks, raps round her hip, and slip-slides between those swollen lips. All this goes down so fast it'd leave whipped boy picking up his balls, throwing them over his shoulder, and getting the hell outta dodge.

We breathe hitched in time. I lean forward claiming and re-claiming that mouth that's mine, compensating for the whimper omitted as her hand zips me down and forces herself inside. I grunt from the fall as I impale myself on her fingertips, picking up the pace of our stroke, looking down, still inches from her mouth to watch her buck at every smooth, languid plunge through the smokey air, dust been kicked up all around us.

I mummble so softly atop her I have no reason to believe she'd hear it.

"Tell me it was me." Her lips quiver in response and engulf mine hungerly below me, slicing my scalp and parted skin with her nails, erratically moaning out,

"Never." I add a third digit roughly, my nerves being all, but severed inside, and thrust down once deep, holding position, making her keel on the edge of an O, nothing but a slight strum away from spilling out to me completely. Her grip on my ride goes limp in defeat.

Growling and nursing the wound on her own bruised mouth, I repeat it through clenched teeth, letting my thumb graze her clit.

"Say it!" Her voice teeters desperate, an entire body chokes at the ministration, responds in a hiss..

"It was."

My thumb burns the length of the button that sends her flying, the heat of me steadying her against chilled, grated tile, as wave after wave of convulsions rip through. I crush my mouth to hers and mutter huskily.

"Thought so."

PART 2

Author's Notes: More S6 AU, 'Wrecked'. Short, sweet, too the point.

The sun's streaming through, day's bustin' out, ain't the easiest on my eyes, not like the blond below me, rolled up in my leather jacket like a baby-doll, scad clad underneath it. I blink a few times, my head is pounding, like I've been knocked into a brick or two, then I remember...I have. Can't swallow the smirk that spreads, and almost on cue, when I think it couldn't get much better than this, lil miss tight ass mummbles faintly to herself with the rise and shine.

"Where...am....oh....god." She scans the shotty foundation slowly, lame-ass looks of horror as her eyes finally meet mine. I can't help, but grin, aside from the deeper part of me that's gnawing on myself.

"Sleep well princess?" As if we slept at all.

"You...I....we?" Like a lost lil girl.

"Fucked." The sadistic smile's back again, but so much more than that, final confirmation of what was and always had been. Each sequence of events that sliced through my veins and muffled my mind came down to one faint fact...we were meant for each other. I wondered if she remembered anything she'd said, anything she'd done, everything she said she would. Then silence set in as she tries to stand up underneath me, pushing those hips against mine huffily without a word...with nothing more than the softest groan of frustration she'd be damned to know I heard...until that is...

"Bite me."

"You seem to have me confused with Billy babe, I *fuck* you," I pause and let my eyes become increasingly fixated with the rest of her body as they fall to all that flesh gone flush, after hovering an eternity at her lips to watch them tremble. My face softens sympathetically for a moment, I look at her intently, pleading for a bit of eye to eye and I sigh, bringing the bitch in me back up...

"And you said I did it better." She stays frozen beneath me knowing any movement would twitch the skin and make the contact with mine to light her back up.

Pushing me off and finally growing a pair, at least one she thinks I haven't touched...

"Well that was then and this is," her eyes meet mine, states it slow and dead-pan as possible, without getting lost in the gaze I'm throwing, "Morning."

Her clothing, or what she has left of it, is back on and I'm tracing those curves all leather bound. No skin off my back if she wants to put her gear back on, I like the stripping process, plus it's all easy access when I realize what I'm laying on. I grab the frill in my hands and wave it the air, busting up a bit. She stops dead in her tracks and turns mortified, even before I say a word.

"Likin' that breeze B?" She's livid. I anticipate the punch, grab her fist, and pull her back down on top of me with the other hand. Rolling myself back on top of her, lifting the skirt and grinding my pelvis back into the nook of her skin, to well the bruises back up, I dot kisses and speak slow enough for *her* to understand while her eyes start to roll into the back of her head..

"Feel this?" I mumble down her mouth...Course the response is nothing, but her teetering on the sensations of my tongue swiveling past her lips, my fingers dwelving deeper into her pussy, my other hand roaming her aimless... I continue in a whisper...

"Tell me you don't get off on this," I suck more candy coated skin softly, relishing the taste, "And I'll stop." I swear I heard her moan with the mere mention of the loss and I pick up a rhythm, curling up inside to reassure her...I won't.

...to be continued...

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