Willingly
by Alexandra J. Campbell aka FuffyChick45
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Joss is god and I am a humble toad taking the pairing we all know he *really* wanted to see and doing something about it.
Feedback: I'll refrain from begging ;), but yeah, please...if one is so inclinded :D

Faith's POV

My lungs feel as if they'd been compressed with a sledgehammer. Little bits of pieces of bone and flesh doused in blood I forgot was running when she left. Whenever she leaves. Three blocks away or not it feels as if she's across the ocean drowning and I can't save her. Half the time I feel as if I'm the shark. (Not that I didn't bite and leave marks in that succulant little flesh of hers, but...) Then how come I feel like I've been eaten by one?

I followed her back to her house and watched her lay her head down on her pillow as if I was stalking pray. Wishing she was laying against me. Dreaming it can all turn out that good and the rest of this meaningless bullshit would evaporate into an air too thin to begin with. And she looks so peaceful. My heart breaks just watching her on the other side of the glass. Tiny gasps of breath escape her lips. She can sense me through and through, but she's not waking up.

I guess pride and circumstance does that to you. Strips everything away that's good and makes it shit. Making you feel like you're emotionless when the real problem is you're feeling so much you can't cope with it. I get that. I've gotton that all my life.

Problem is I'll stay here and keep looking through the window because I love her too much not to. Because I see the empty side of that bed and know I belong there. Because I can feel her body heat from here no matter how 'ice princess' she wants to come off as. Because I'm the only one that can.

I look down at my pack of ciggerettes like they're translucent. Just like I'm everything else. My thumb idly plays about with my lighter. I'm watching the spark flicker and fade to nothing. Wow. Guess I get that too.

Suddenly I become dimmly aware of how long I've been there as a little bit of sun rises above the horizon and streams into her window. Past me. Through me. Warmth reverberates or maybe that's from the night before when she was in my arms. While I was cooing her.. cooing me. Clinging to my body without clinging at all. The contradiction of it making my head spin a little more than it needed to. I'm dizzy.

But despite it all I'm complete. It's not just about how she makes me feel. It's about how she makes me feel that I'm worthy to feel at all. She tosses every now and again a bit restless inside and I smirk at her thoughts. I'm in her head. Always have been. Always will be. The night before isn't fading as fast from her mind as it should be. As she wants it to. It's about what I don't say...it's about what she does. I talk too much and she's never talked enough and I break a little bit for her as I break for myself.

I don't know now if the ledge of the window is melting against me or I'm melting against it. My eyes keep staring at the scene a bit entranced. My forehead presses weakly against the glass. Regardless it's all warmth I'm ingulfed in. All I feel are those hands instead of the chill of the morning breeze wafting through my hair and creating goosebumps on my skin, but those were already there.

Shaking the sleep out of my eyes I sigh wearily taken aback once again by how I'm taken in. I've never cried for anyone and I fucking hate it. I resent it, but they drop one after the other in salty sequence making a mini pool on my lips. It's the tang of happiness and serenity. Not too sweet. Not too sour, but the nectar of perfect imperfection. While I lick the drops away that trickled down to the side of my mouth I swear it's hers I'm tasting. Not mine. The ones she never cried. The ones she doesn't have to.

I swallow and try to get up, but I'm numb and my arm clutches tighter to the wood I'm leaning on. It feels as if I'm nailed to it. Constantly suffering for others sins because I suffered enough for mine. Crusified. At least it won't take decades to pick the slivers out. Well. At least it won't the ones from the outside.

My palm stops shaking enough and is lucid enough to trace the grain of it. It feels like the headboard on my motel bed. Feels like home. I bite my lip a bit dazed with an image or two.. or three. We fall asleep together. We always do, but somewhere between the 2 and 3 am I hear the bed creek. What matters most of all though is that I don't even need the noise to know. I feel it and I'm gutted. Immediately reduced to little of nothing, but I'm walking on water at the same damn time. A half hour is spent trying to decide wether or not I should follow her home or not. Another half hour is spent reminding me that she's not afraid of me.. she's afraid of herself.

Scratch the surface of any sitch it comes down to fear. Especially when it comes to love. I decided long ago I wouldn't get mixed up in that shit, not that I'd know what it feels like anyways. I was incapable. I made a definative line around myself. Me. Them. Period. Besides that... how can you love if you've never been completely loved. Genuinely loved. Unconditionally loved. So to compensate I felt pain. To remind myself I was alive. To remind myself that some asshole I didn't give two fucks about cared that much about me that I could hurt them... though they never cared at all. She does the opposite though. Selfless turns into selfish and nothing makes us different, but she'll see that soon....

Anyways I had power. Afterall any power is better than absolutely none. I knew that back then... as I know it now. The only difference is that it's to the opposite extreme. The only difference is that I lost mine to her...willingly.

The End

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