Cold As It Gets
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-15
Archive: If you already have my stuff, otherwise just ask.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story. Need
I say more?
Summary: Set in a very AU world after the BtVS S6 episode Grave and the Ats
S4 episode, Orpheus. Spike never shows up in Sunnydale, Faith sticks
around in
"To the end of the earth, I search for your face,
for the one who laid all of our beauty to waste. Threw our
hope into hell and our children to the fire. I am the one who crawled
through the wire. There's a million sad stories on the
side of the road. Strange how we all just got used to the blood. Millions of stories that will never be told, silent and froze in
the mud. I know a cold as cold as it gets. I know a darkness that's
darker than coal. A wind that blows as cold as it gets. Blew out the light of
my soul...I know a cold as cold as it gets. I fight a war I may never see won. I
live only to see you live to regret everything that you've done." ~Patty
Griffin, "Cold As It Gets"
Chapter 11
Faith looked in the mirror, feeling like a fake. This wasn't her. She had no idea why she was even attempting this. She looked like an idiot.
The wolf whistle from the doorway had her turning to see Spike giving her an admiring stare. "Gotta say, you clean up nice, pet."
Faith turned back to her reflection. "I don't know, Spike. Do I have time to change?"
"No, you don't. Fred's already yelled at me for draggin' my feet. You're not goin' to get away with doin' the same."
She took a deep breath. The makeup was the same—dark and dramatic, just as she liked it. It was the clothing that had changed. Maybe she was still in heavy black boots, but they went up to her knees, stopping several inches short of her skirt. The black sweater was skin-tight, and the overall effect was probably not that different than her usual look, but...
"You look fine."
Faith turned to the vampire, who was watching her with a measure of amusement mixed with compassion. "I haven't worn one of these in years."
"You're out of practice," he suggested. "Give it a bit, and you'll settle into your skin again."
She nodded, checking her hair one more time before following Spike out of her room. "Do you think—" Faith stopped herself, not wanting to give too much away.
"If his jaw doesn't hit the floor, I'll be surprised," Spike assured her, knowing what she was asking without her having to go into details.
That's what Faith liked about Spike. He was always very clear on where you stood with him, and quick on the uptake. There was no need for a lot of detail or long, drawn-out explanations.
"Fred, too," she said, referring to the fact that Spike had dressed in something other than clothing filched from Connor. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that Angel had finally unclenched his fist enough to start paying Spike a salary.
Although, Faith would be willing to bet that it had been Fred who had talked Spike into spending some of that money on clothing.
Spike tugged at the collar of his blue shirt, revealing the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath. "Yeah, well..."
"She likes you, you know," Faith said, teasing.
Spike looked even more uncomfortable. "'s just a thing," he said dismissively. "It'll pass."
"How do you know if you don't give it a real chance?" Faith retorted, not knowing where this was coming from. She wasn't the type to go around handing out free advice. Faith liked Fred, though, and wouldn't mind seeing the other woman get something she wanted.
Spike's expression was a study in conflicted emotions. "Dunno. Don't want to start something I might not get to finish."
"You planning on going somewhere, Blondie?" Faith asked, a little surprised at what the thought of Spike leaving did to her insides. At the thought of any of them leaving, she supposed. They had become a team, a family—the thing she'd always envied Buffy for, and what she'd always wanted.
Not that Faith would ever admit that out loud, even if that didn't make it any less true.
He moved his shoulders. "No, 'course not. It's just..."
Faith thought she understood. "Just let it come, huh? One day at a time, that's what Angel was always telling me."
"Peaches does occasionally offer good advice," Spike admitted. "But you tell him I said that, and I'll rip your tongue out," he warned.
Faith just grinned in response. "Are you kidding me? Angel's head doesn't need to be any bigger than it already is."
They came down the stairs side-by-side, and Faith couldn't help but be pleased by the look on Wesley's face. His jaw didn't go anywhere, but she knew when a guy wanted her. She got the feeling that if they hadn't been planning this night out for a while, she might not have made it out of the hotel.
She watched in amusement as Fred came over to Spike, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his shirt, obviously using it as an excuse to touch him. Faith wondered when Fred was going to take her advice and just jump him, because it looked like Spike needed the push in the right direction.
"You look nice."
Faith looked up at Wesley. "You too," she replied, and meant it. Not that he was dressed that differently, since they were just going to Lorne's. There wasn't a need to get all fancy or anything. Faith had just wanted to show him—well, she'd wanted to show him something. She couldn't put it into words, even inside her own head.
They watched each other in comfortable silence until Angel and Connor finally emerged. Faith could tell that Fred had had something to say about what Connor was wearing, too.
He was the reason they were celebrating in the first place.
"Are we ready?" Angel asked.
"Sure," Faith said. "Let's get this show on the road."
The phone chose that moment to ring, and Faith watched as everyone looked at each other, trying to decide whether to take the call. The night had been cleared of appointments, so unless Spike had another vision, they were free.
"I'll just take a message," Fred commented. "We can always get to it tomorrow." She picked up the phone, saying, "Hello, Angel Investigations." There was a pause. "Oh, uh, sure. I'll get him." She looked at Connor. "It's for you. It's a girl."
Faith hid a smirk as Connor turned bright red and took the handset, turning his back to the group with a glare that said they'd better give him some privacy. Fred herded Spike and Angel towards the front, and Faith brought up the rear with Wesley. "Looks like Connor's found himself a friend."
Wesley nodded. "I suppose so. He needs to be around people his own age."
"Yeah, that's what Spike said." Faith didn't comment on the fact that she'd rarely hung out with people "her own age." Most of her friends had been older, and the only time she'd tried something different, it had been with Buffy and her friends.
Look how well that had gone.
Now, of course, things were different. Everything was different. If she'd thought about it, Faith wouldn't have recognized her life these days. Not that she ever really thought about it, but there were moments that surprised her with their perfection.
"I hope he's happy," Wesley said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the hotel entrance. Angel was only a few inches from the door, obviously waiting for Connor to join them. Spike and Fred were holding a quiet conversation.
Faith suddenly realized that Wesley had a vested interest in making certain that Connor was happy. He probably would never run short on guilt where Angel and his son were concerned. It was something she could identify with; there were certain people that Faith couldn't think about without her own measure of guilt.
She didn't say anything; Faith didn't have the words.
Connor came out of the hotel then, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his khaki pants. He flushed again as they all turned to look at him. When no one spoke, Faith rolled her eyes. "Well?" she asked. "What did she want?"
He shrugged. "She has this dance. She said she wanted me to go with her."
Angel's face lit up. "She asked you to go to a dance with her?"
"Yeah." Connor shuffled his feet, and then a slow grin broke out over his face. "She said the girls have to ask the guys, and there wasn't anyone else she wanted to ask."
"You'll need a suit," Fred decided.
Connor looked a little alarmed by that. "What?"
"Don't worry about it," Angel advised him. "Wearing a suit won't kill you. I've done it before."
"Yeah, but you're a ponce," Spike said. "Doesn't mean anything if it didn't kill you."
Angel glared at him. "Shut up, Spike. Connor, don't listen to him."
"What's a ponce?" Connor asked.
"Your father," Spike replied. "No more need be said."
Faith listened as Angel tried to come back with an equally smart comment and failed—and she laughed.
This was what she'd always wanted.
~~~~~
Faith sprinted across the distance, knowing that she was going to be too late. Impossibly, Wesley twisted out of the way of the knife, and she watched as he twisted his assailant's arm so that the knife meant for him buried itself to the hilt in its owner's stomach. She reached them in time to plunge her stake into the demon's back, watching as its body collapsed at her feet.
"Faith!" Angel's voice called her back to the fight. "Help Connor!"
Connor was fighting four demons at once, and Faith could tell that he didn't need any help. Still, Angel was the boss, and Connor was his kid, so she moved in that direction. Wesley could apparently take care of himself.
She didn't question the pride she felt at that knowledge.
The kid was moving with an innate grace that Faith still found a little spooky. He was like the fighters in those martial arts movies, the ones you knew were helped along by wires, but it was all natural talent with Connor.
She glanced around, checking to be sure that Wesley was still okay, before looking over at Spike, who fought with a feral smile, back-to-back with Angel.
The scene had the comfort of familiarity. There was always a battle to be fought, demons to kill and bad guys to beat. It had taken Faith a long time to appreciate the fight for more than the adrenalin it sent pumping through her veins, for the excitement inherent in risking her life night after night.
Faith had always been the Slayer who had liked the fight because it was a fight; Buffy had been the one to see it as more—as a duty and an obligation. Faith could understand that now, could see that there was more.
She finally wanted more.
If she thought about it too hard, Faith knew that a fight like this would end her life. One day, one night, she wouldn't be fast enough, strong enough, smart enough—and that would be the end. She didn't really let herself think about it, though. Faith had faced death and beat it back once before. She would probably do so again before her number was up. Her motto was, and always had been, to live for the moment.
It was want, take, have—that much hadn't changed. Faith just wanted different things now.
Faith looked over at Wesley, watching as he straightened after killing his last demon. Yeah, she definitely wanted different things these days.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Angel demanded.
Her attention was caught by the two vampires, who were now glaring at one another. "Tryin' to keep you from getting yourself killed," Spike replied heatedly.
"Did I look like I needed any help?" Angel asked. "I was doing just fine, Spike."
"You were about to get skewered, Angel," Wesley said.
Angel huffed. "I'm never going to get this shirt clean."
He turned so that Faith could see him better, and she snickered as she realized why he was bitching. There was demon blood all down the front of his blue silk shirt. "Maybe you should try wearing something you don't mind getting ruined," Faith suggested.
"He doesn't have anything he doesn't mind getting ruined," Connor said with a grin. "Like his hair. How do you get it to stick straight up?"
Angel glared at him, although Faith could tell that he wasn't really all that angry. "You've been hanging out with Spike too much."
"Yeah, so?" Spike asked. "It's good for him. God forbid he take himself as seriously as you do."
"I don't take myself seriously," Angel protested.
Faith grinned. "Yes, you do."
"Do not." He looked dangerously close to pouting.
"You have your moments, Angel." Wesley shook his head, then glanced over at Faith. "Are you riding back with him?"
She shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I think I'll hitch a ride with you, if that's alright."
Wesley raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, merely waited for her to join him. Faith sensed that he wanted to touch her, and so she moved closer, letting her arm brush his. "Nice moves tonight."
"Thank you." His voice was mild, cool, and Faith realized that she was finding it easier to read him now; she knew that his tone was a mask.
It always was when he sounded like that, like he didn't care. If there was one thing Faith had learned about Wesley, it was that he always cared.
"Aren't you going to say anything about my moves?" Faith asked, baiting him.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. "What would you like me to say?" he countered.
"Why don't you tell me the truth?" she challenged.
"The truth is that you move like no one I've ever known."
"I hope that's a good thing." She hated how hopeful her voice sounded, but it was out now. Faith was girl enough to want a compliment every now and then.
She was girl enough to fish for compliments if she couldn't get them any other way, too.
Wesley met her eyes, and Faith saw the fire there. "Always."
Nothing was said on the way back to his apartment, but the silence seemed to speak volumes. They hadn't always been so comfortable with one another, and that in itself was a change.
They made it inside his apartment before clothing began to come off. Stumbling into the bathroom, he fumbled with the taps to start the shower running. Faith concentrated on peeling off her clothing, noting the way he seemed unable to look away from her. She put an extra shimmy in her movements, teasing him.
His mouth came down on hers, the kiss almost bruising in its intensity. Faith welcomed it, relishing the battle for dominance that neither of them would win. The water was hot when they stepped under the spray, and she could feel slick skin and taut muscles under her hands. She threw her head back as Wesley bent his head to kiss her neck, one hand fondling her breast and the other delving further south.
Faith lost herself in him. Not that she'd ever admit it, but sex had never been like this before. It had never been more than a physical exercise, as pleasant as that might be. With Wesley, she let go as often as she took control.
It was another one of those things that Faith didn't think about too much. She hadn't allowed herself to lose control like this for a very long time—not since the first guy she'd thought she'd loved, the one who had first taught her that men had a tendency to screw you over, so you might as well screw them first.
She and Wesley had already used each other long before they were fuck-buddies. So maybe it only made sense that they were more to one another now.
Drying off was just another way to touch each other, just another way to get their hands on each other. They made their way to Wesley's bed, naked limbs tangling and tripping them up. Skin flushed from sex and hot water, Faith pushed him back onto the mattress, putting experienced hands and mouth to work for both of them.
He let her take control, tangling his hands in her wet locks. Faith moved with deliberation, watching as he let go, his surrender sweet, the pleasure that washed over his face bringing her over the edge soon thereafter.
She lay draped over his chest, knowing that dawn wasn't far off. If she was going to leave, she needed to do it soon, and yet Faith found herself unable to move.
Wesley's arms encircled her, and he spoke one hoarse word. "Stay."
So Faith stayed the night, knowing that Wesley wasn't going to get the wrong idea. Not when this was what she wanted.
It was strange how things could change.