by SwaySlayer
Rating: R

Disclaimer: Buffy and Faith are not mine, even though I bet they wish they were. The song is by Janet Jackson off her Velvet Rope album.
Author’s Notes: I had the great pleasure of seeing Ms. Jackson in concert on her Velvet Rope tour. She rocks. So do Faith and Buffy. There’s the connection. Simple no? Lol. The lyrics are in brackets...
Feedback: It’s my second songfic. Hope the curse of sequels doesn’t apply. *puppy dog face*

The blonde sat in the plastic orange chair that moaned every time she shifted, keeping her eyes focussed on the pane of glass in front of her, and fighting the urge to bolt out of the door. Each time the wooden door on the other end of the glass opened, Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat, as did her stomach churn and her mouth dry up. She did not want to be here, but a driving force in the pit of her stomach had brought her here without much resistance. She glanced to her left where a woman sat with a receiver held close to her ear, murmuring words into the black object that reached the young girl on the other side of the glass. Buffy then turned her head to the right, where a similar scene played out, only in this instance, it was the young girl who sat with the receiver, speaking to an older woman on the opposite side. Buffy released a sigh of frustration at the circumstances that arose from going off the rails, as well as her worn-out patience, and contemplated getting the hell out of there. As this thought entered her mind, the wooden door swung open and a creature of undeniable beauty made its way to the glass window that Buffy was presently staring through. Faith took a seat in a chair identical to the one Buffy was sitting and picked up the receiver. (Here I am in you face)

Buffy swallowed profusely before picking up the black phone and bringing it to her ear. Faith looked more gorgeous than Buffy could ever have hoped to imagine. Without the thick make-up that usually adorned her face, Faith was almost angelic. Her porcelain skin, set off by hair the colour of night and lips the colour of blood, made Buffy’s insides contract momentarily. Faith was beautiful, and Buffy had thrown it all away for a screwed up sense of her own morality. Faith did not speak. Her eyes told more of a story than she would ever be able to. Buffy babbled on like Willow on speed. Faith appeared unperturbed. (Tellin’ truths and not your old lies) When Buffy had run out of small talk, she sat back and scrutinised Faith through the thick glass. Her gaze penetrated the brunette’s eyes and Faith snorted internally. (Seems to me that you care) She had given Buffy endless opportunities in order for the blonde to confess how she felt, but the threat of being extricated was too much for her to handle. (And I know that you’re runnin’ outta time) Faith’s eyes bored into Buffy’s and the tension between them was evident even through the glass barrier. Buffy could not tear her gaze away from Faith, as the brunette’s pure sexuality took hold of her and glued her to her chair. (See ya can’t get away)

Suddenly, Buffy’s head was awash with images of her and Faith together. Their first meeting in the alley behind the Bronze, training together in the library, slaying together at night and dancing off their excess energy afterwards. Those images shifted to ones that were purely hers and Faith’s.

Faith walking Buffy home, the two of them talking as they patrolled, Faith’s hand on her hip as she said goodnight, the kiss on the cheek, then the lips and finally in the sweetest place Buffy could bear to think about. She thought back to where she lay cradled in Faith’s arms while the brunette soothed her to sleep. (I’ll be here forever and again, whisperin’ in your ear) Buffy was everything and nothing when she lay in Faith’s arms. She never tried to fight the indescribable power Faith had over her in the bedroom, choosing to accept it without bias. (Do believe ‘cause you know you cannot win). They fought continuously as their blatantly different personalities constantly found themselves at loggerheads. Buffy demanding Faith to break down the emotional walls she had built up (Spent most your life pretending not to be, the one you are but who you choose to see), and Faith spitting on Buffy’s need to feel accepted by all and sundry. (Learned to survive in your fictitious world, does what they think of you determine your worth?)

Faith watched as a glimmer of moisture passed over Buffy’s eyes and the blonde covertly turned away as a solitary tear slid down her cheek. Faith gritted her teeth and balled her free hand into a fist, trying hard not to reach out and place her hand on the glass. She could feel Buffy’s thoughts. They were hers too, but the pain of what she had done and what Buffy refused to do, lead her astray. (If special’s what you feel when you’re with them, taken away, you feel less again) Being so close to the blonde, who had called out her name nightly as their sweat-laden bodies released each other in a multitude of ways, Faith felt the empty space in her heart fill itself briefly. Her entire being cried out to the blonde, begging to hear a kind word, but her stubborn will prevented her from receiving anything at all (You gotta mean what you say, you gotta say what you mean, tryin’ to please everyone, sacrifice your own needs) Buffy tasted the foul flavour of guilt in her mouth as she watched Faith trace small circles on the wooden tabletop. She wanted so badly to make things right. Buffy glanced up and caught her reflection in the glass. (Check in the mirror my friend) She had treated Faith without an ounce of human compassion. (No lies will be told then) She was the one who screwed up. (Pointin’ the finger again, you can’t blame nobody but you)

Both rooms were now empty, save for the two Slayers, and they spoke quietly to each other. At first the conversation was amiable. Faith asking about everyone in Sunnydale, Buffy tentatively requiring as to the conditions Faith lived in. There was a long pause as Faith racked her brain for a suitable topic, and just as she had decided on one, Buffy spoke. (There’s a feelin’ inside)

“I want to touch you Faith.”

The brunette physically took a moment to remove herself from the situation, debating what her response would be. Anger took over first. (No you cannot change it right away)

“Well that would be a bit difficult considering my current state of incarceration.”

She didn’t mean it to come out so harshly, but healing her pride was a long and arduous process. Her wounds were deep, emotional gashes that were constantly re-opened by smells, tastes and sounds. Her Slayer senses tortured her on a daily basis, reminding her of the woman she was supposed to be with. The one she loved. She looked at Buffy again and saw the pleading in the blonde’s eyes. (Gotta make a try, and with time, it’ll start to go away) Faith was tired of trying. She was exhausted by the pure effort of living, and loving was certainly not an option anymore, so she resided herself to being the little girl lost. (I’ll be here when you need, that one to sit and cry to) Faith replaced the receiver and Buffy listened to the faint click with undisguised anguish. She lifted her hand in a gesture of complete helplessness and brushed her fingertips against the cold glass. Faith felt, more than saw, this slight movement and she turned around to look at the blonde one last time. (‘Cause I’m the you you forget, the only one you know you cannot lie to) Faith brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face and Buffy sub-consciously mimicked the movement. Her heart cried out to Faith, allowing empty threats to escape from her. (Bitter you’ll be if you don’t change your ways, when you hate you, you hate everyone that day)

Buffy stood until her face was in line with Faith’s and the brunette approached the transparent substance until only a thin sheet of glass separated them. Green eyes met coal-black and two hands raised in mirrored actions, pressing against the glass and pushing until the first signs of cracking began to show. They stopped. Buffy’s bottom lip quivered in a final attempt to bring Faith back to her. (Unleash this scared child that you’ve grown into) The brunette felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away and swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not want to be a charity case. Her love was not to be pitied or patronised, and it was this viewpoint that denied her Buffy’s confession. She shook her head and blocked her ears as the blonde whispered to her, eyes brimming with tears and a voice that was part shaky and part confident. (You cannot run for you cannot hide from you) Buffy squared her shoulders and slammed her palm against the glass.

“Can’t hide from me!”

Faith smiled sadly and walked to the wooden doors where a guard stood to escort her back to her call. Buffy remained with her hand pressed up against the glass, hoping against all else that she had conveyed to Faith the depths of her emotions, but from the brunette’s demeanour, she had failed miserably. Hanging her head in defeat, Buffy pushed the chair in and walked out to the parking lot. She was about to start the engine of her car when an instinct stopped her. She threw herself out of the car and shielded her eyes from the light as she looked up towards where she had heard a sound. There was a passageway that led to the cells, and throughout it’s darkened walls, echoed four words. Buffy beamed brightly as she got into her car, and her heart soared as the phrase reverberated in her mind.

(Can’t hide from you)

The End