One Last Time

Written By: starcrossed

RATING: NC-17 for language and sexual situations
SPOILERS: This story takes place at some unspecified time during season three, but most definitely before “Bad Girls.”
SUMMARY: Buffy comes to give Faith some news that she doesn’t want to hear.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of these beautiful characters, but god, I wish I did! Sadly, they belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.



A soft, yet insistent rapping on the motel room door awakens me, pulling me away from the lovely dream I was having. I don’t often have good dreams, so it’s fair to say that I’m pissed about having this one disturbed. Rolling over onto my back, I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Getting to my feet, I half stumble to the door, but at least have the presence of mind to look through the peephole first. This is, after all, Sunnydale, and it is two-fucking-in-the-morning, prime time for all the nasties that call this town their home.

I’m a bit surprised to see that it’s B standing on the other side, but I quickly undo the locks and swing the door open. Ushering her in with a wave of my hand, I close and lock the door after she’s entered. No sense in taking foolish chances with any unsavory members of Sunny D’s population.

One look at her face tells me all that I need to know. This isn’t a social call. She hasn’t come to me in the middle of the night, wanting me to scratch her itch, as has been the case in the past. There will be no lovemaking on tonight’s agenda. She’s come here to break up with me.

All of a sudden, I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s as if I’m trapped underwater and am swiftly taking water into my lungs. My heart seems to be skipping every other beat and I’m certain that I’m about to hyperventilate, or pass out, or something. I don’t want to hear what I’m all too sure that she’s come here to tell me.

I play it cool, though, and do my best to act as non-chalantly as possible. No easy task, mind you, given the fact that both my heart and lungs are trying their level best to quit working. She’s standing in the middle of my crappy room, looking around like she’s never seen it before. In actuality, what she’s doing is avoiding looking at me.

Crossing the room until I’m standing right in front of her, I place my hands on my hips, and look her square in the eyes. “So, what’s the what, B? Why’d ya come here in the middle of the night and wake me up from a nice dream?” The answer I’m seeking is all too evident in her hazel eyes, but I want to hear her say it.

“Faith,” she begins rather hesitantly. “I… we… I can’t do this anymore…” her voice trails off and she becomes seemingly fascinated with staring at the wall behind me.

A dry laugh escapes from my throat. “Can’t do *what* exactly, B?” I run lascivious eyes up and down the length of her body. “Cause you and me, we’ve done a whole lot in the past few weeks.”

I don’t want to hear what I know she’s gonna say. Instead, I want to run, I want to hide, I want to do anything that will take me away from this room and help me avoid the pain that’s bound to come. I stand my ground, though, with arms crossed over my chest and eyes fixed firmly on her.

“I can’t… we can’t be together anymore… not like we have been. Angel knows about us, Faith. He’s trying to pretend like he’s all right with it, but I can see that it’s killing him.”

Of course, I should have known. Once again, everything boils down to her precious Angel and his feelings. ‘What about me’, I want to scream at her. ‘Don’t I count? Don’t I matter, at least a little bit? You don’t think it’s gonna kill me to let you walk away from me?’

I should have seen this coming. I should have fucking known better than to even get involved with her. A girl like Buffy – that’s just a heartache waiting to happen. Somewhere deep down inside, I did know better. I just didn’t listen to myself and now I want to kick my own ass for being so goddamn stupid.

Presence of mind and common sense don’t always come into play, however, when the only person you’ve ever loved suddenly offers you a chance at what you’ve been dreaming of. I never in a million years would have thought that Buffy would see me in the same way that I saw her. So, I played it cool and kept my feelings close, never letting them show – until that night.

That one glorious, splendorous, unbelievable night when the two of us returned to my motel room after a heady night of slaying and one thing led to another. The night that I finally got to make love to my dream. There have been other nights since then, nights in which we’ve explored every inch of each other’s body in ways that a man would never dream of, but there’s been nothing quite like that first night.

“Faith?” Buffy’s voice breaks my reverie, jolting me back into the present. “Say something, please?”

“What do you want me to say, B? Do you want me to tell you that I understand? Ya want me to wish you all the best with a man who can’t even make love to you?” My voice rises with each syllable I utter and I am desperately fighting to hide the hysteria that I’m feeling. “Well, I’m sorry, but that ain’t gonna fucking happen!”

I turn around, presenting her with my back. If I have to look at her for a moment longer, I know I’ll break down and start sobbing, and that just ain’t my style. Never let ‘em see ya cry has always been my philosophy and it’s served me well for seventeen years. Despite that, traitorous tears are welling up in my eyes, blinding me before a few finally escape and roll down my cheeks.

She’s quiet for a moment, and then I feel her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Faith, I really am. I never wanted things to be this way. I never wanted to hurt you, but I can’t stand seeing Angel hurt, either.”

“No sweat, B, really.” I lie through my goddamn teeth. “It’s cool.” My voice betrays me on that last syllable, though, and it comes out as a choked sob.

She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my back. “Please don’t cry, Faith. I don’t think I can stand to see you cry.”

I finally turn around, pulling out of her embrace as I do. “Yeah, well, I can’t stand to see you walk away from me, so I guess we’re even.”

She tries to take hold of one of my hands, but I won’t let her. Having her touch me is more than I can bear right now. I’m trying so hard to be a stone cold bitch, but I know that I’m failing miserably.

“I don’t want to do this, Faith,” she says softly, tears in her own eyes now.

“Then don’t. Don’t do it, B. If Angel loves you as much as you claim that he does, then he’ll understand why you need me in your life.” I’m begging here, something I swore to myself that I’d never do, but I am past the point of caring.

“I just can’t, Faith. I can’t hurt Angel, not that way.” She looks me in the eyes, then, a silent plea for understanding in her own eyes.

“You can’t hurt Angel, huh? But you can hurt me? What kind of whacked ass logic is that? Tell me, explain it to me, cause I’d really like to understand where you’re coming from on this one.” I find that I can’t stand still any longer, and I begin to pace the room, much like a wild animal in a cage.

I roam around the room for several long minutes while she just stands there, watching me. Finally, I stop at the foot of my bed, and my shoulders sag in defeat. She comes to me then, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, and this time I allow it.

She pushes my hair aside, baring my neck, and places a soft kiss on the skin there. Her breath is warm on my ear as she whispers, “Please, baby, don’t be like this.”

I turn around to face her, my eyes full of tears again. Wrapping my own arms around her waist, I pull her to me until there is no space left between our two bodies. “Give me one more night? Please, if you’re gonna walk away from me, B, and not even give me a say in the matter, stay with me just one more night?” I’m begging again, but I’m half past give a shit.

Some part of me believes that if she’ll just allow me to make love to her again, then maybe she won’t leave me. I desperately want to make her remember how good it is between us, to show her once more all the things I can do for her that Angel can’t.

She starts to half-heartedly protest as I bring my lips to hers. I silence her with a kiss as my hand travels up underneath the shirt she is wearing. Cupping one of her lace-covered breasts, my fingers seek out her nipple as I deepen the kiss. Instead of pulling away, as I half-feared she would, she moans and arches into my touch. My other hand slips beneath the waistband of her pants and I’m delighted when my fingers come into contact with damp curls.

A bit breathless, she finally pulls away from my questing mouth. “This will be the last time, Faith. I mean it. After tonight, I’m strictly Angel’s girl.”

“Umm-hmm,” I mutter as I push her down onto the bed. Right now, I’d agree to almost anything as long as it meant that I could be with her one more time. Straddling her at the waist, I pull her top off over her head and carelessly toss it aside before going to work on the front clasp of her bra. I tug the straps down her slender arms and she half sits up for a moment so that I can pull the garment off completely.

I sit back a bit and take a moment to admire the beauty that is Buffy. She has the most beautiful pair of breasts. Granted, they aren’t that big, and most jackass guys would probably want a woman with more, but I think what she has is perfect. Shifting my body until I’m lying on top of her, I take one luscious peak into my mouth, my tongue seeking out and finding the already hardened bud of her nipple. I take her other breast into my hand and lazily caress it.

She’s already bucking and mewling beneath me and I silently revel in my power over her. How in the name of all that is unholy can she even be considering giving this up for a guy with no pulse and a humdinger of a ‘stipulation’ on his soul? I’m willing to bet that she’s never had it so good with Angel.

Her hips arch into mine in a silent plea, but I ignore it, focusing instead on the task at hand. As badly as I want her, I also want to take this slow, knowing that it will probably be the last time. My mouth releases her breast and moves to her lips, kissing her deep. Her hands reach for the hem of my tank top, impatiently tugging. I sit up for a moment and pull it off for her before returning my mouth to hers. I slowly slide my body against hers, our naked upper halves touching and setting off sparks deep inside both of us.

I begin kissing my way down her body, starting with her jaw, and slowly tracing a warm, wet path over to one ear. My tongue delves inside the perfect shell and I lick it before whispering a couple of ‘sweet nothings.’ I’m kissing her neck now and take a moment to suck on her jugular vein, knowing that it drives her wild.

Her hands reach for me and entangle themselves in my hair, pulling me back up her body so that she can kiss me. My tongue dances with hers as one of her hands slides into the back of my bicycle shorts. The tip of her index finger traces the puckered opening of my ass, and this time, I’m the one who’s moaning.

I wrench my mouth away from hers and return to my earlier activity of kissing my way down her body. As I move my body down hers, she is forced to remove her hand from my shorts, or risk having her wrist break. This time, I skip over her breasts, even though they are very tempting and head straight for her navel instead. I dip my tongue into it as my fingers begin to work the button and zipper of her low-riding jeans.

“Faith, please,” she begs.

I make quick work of divesting her of jeans and panties and step out of my shorts, as well, before returning to the bed and crawling up between her spread legs. Moisture glistens on her thatch of curls and the sight of it makes me wet. Placing a firm, yet gentle hand on either of her thighs, I bring my mouth to her core, and my tongue darts out to lick the length of her slit.

When I reach her hot entrance, I push my tongue inside as far as it will go, while one hand leaves her thigh so that I can finger her clit. I find myself wanting to give her more, though, so I pull my tongue out of her. Before she can even bemoan the loss, I slide one, then two fingers inside of her. I’ve got other plans for my mouth.

Shifting a bit on the mattress, I slide further down the bed until my mouth is level with her ass. Her puckered, rosy entrance is just too damn inviting, and I know that I have to taste her there. With two fingers of one hand still inside of her and the index finger of my other hand diddling her clit, I bring my mouth to her rear, and my tongue starts to rim her.

She thrusts against my face, causing my tongue to enter her ass. Her fingers entwine in my hair, holding me in place and she cries out my name. The sound of my name on her lips is music to my ears and a soothing balm to my heart. I’m still holding on to the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, I can get her to stay with me.

“Faith,” she calls out, a bit louder this time. She is frantically thrusting against my hands and my face and I know that she’s close. “Oh god, Faith! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop, baby!”

And I don’t. I swirl my tongue around inside her ass before pulling back just a bit, then pushing back in. My fingers are working double time and I silently thank the powers that be that I have a slayer’s stamina.

Suddenly her body tenses around my tongue and my fingers, her core and her ass both clenching convulsively. I pull back a bit and raise my head so that I can see her. God! She’s so fucking beautiful when she comes. Her fingers finally release their tight grip on my hair as her arms fall to her sides and her whole body goes limp.

I withdraw my fingers from her and start to get up. She asks me where I’m going and I explain that I need to go into the bathroom for a moment to wash my face and mouth. An adorable blush creeps into her cheeks as she realizes why I need to excuse myself.

When I return, she’s holding her arms out to me, inviting me to her, and I offer up a silent prayer to whatever gods there are that she’s changed her mind about leaving me. I go to her and she pulls me down to her for a kiss. In a matter of seconds, she’s rolled our bodies until I’m beneath her, and she’s suddenly got three fingers inside of me.

I cry out in pleasure as I arch my hips up off of the mattress. Her mouth leaves mine and latches onto one of my breasts, her teeth grazing my sensitive nipple. This time, it’s me calling out her name as her fingers pump mercilessly in and out of me and the pad of her thumb finds my clit.

Then, my inner walls are tightly clenching her fingers, and I’m flying. I scream out her name as I hit my highest peak and I swear to god that I never want to come back down. But, all good things must come to an end, and eventually the violent tremors subside to shudders, and finally to mild aftershocks.

When I open my eyes, she’s lying beside me, and that sad look has returned to her face and her eyes. And I know. She’s still going to leave me. This was truly the last time for the two of us.

She begins to sit up, but I anticipate her move and reach for her, pulling her back down beside me.

“I need to go, Faith,” she quietly replies.

“Look, B, the sun will be up soon. Stay with me until then, please?” I’m begging again and somewhere inside of me, I hate myself for it. I’ve never begged anyone in my life, for anything. I have learned, however, that some things are worth begging for, and this girl lying beside me is one of them.

She acquiesces, even if it’s somewhat reluctantly, and lies down beside me. I roll over onto my side and spoon up behind her, taking her into my arms. We lie there like that, not saying a word. What is there to say, really? She’s made her decision and apparently nothing I say, or do, for that matter, is going to change her mind. So, I focus on enjoying these last precious stolen moments with her, attempting to burn them into my permanent memory for all time.

I whisper, ‘I love you.’ The words are so soft and so quiet that a normal person wouldn’t have heard me, but I know that B did. She doesn’t return the sentiment, though, but that’s okay. I’ve heard those three words from her a hundred times before, and that’s enough for me.

I’m not sure how or when, but I fall asleep. When I wake up, I’m alone, as I should have known I would be. She’s gone. There’s nothing left of her, save her smell on my sheets. I reach for the pillow that she’d been resting her head on and bring it to my face, inhaling deeply of the faint, but lingering fragrance of her shampoo.

Sobs begin to wrack my body as I lie there. Goddamn! It hurts so fucking much! I knew that it would hurt, but I never expected this. Just like earlier, when she first came to me, my heart starts skipping beats and my lungs feel tight. I’m gonna die, right there in my crappy motel room. I’m sure of it. There’s no way I can possibly go on living with pain this bad.

For half an hour or more, I lie there, my cries the only sound in the room. I think I cry more in that short space of time than I have in the entirety of my seventeen years. Like I said before, I ain’t never been much of one for crying. I’ve always viewed it as a useless and girly emotion, but fuck all that. The only person I’ve ever loved has walked out of my life and I’m gonna cry about it.

Finally, the tears stop coming. Probably because I’ve shed gallons of them and my insides are most likely all dried up. I sit up and rub my eyes with the meaty part of my palms. Rising a bit unsteadily to my feet, I make my way into the bathroom and turn on the taps as hot as I think I can stand. Steam begins to fill the bathroom as I draw the curtain back and step beneath the almost scalding water.

I scrub my body harder than I ever have in my life. It’s almost as if I’m trying to rid myself of her through exfoliation. I stand under the pulsing water until it begins to run cold before turning off the taps and stepping out onto the bathmat. Reaching for a towel, I vigorously dry myself off, and head back into the bedroom for clean clothes.

Standing before my miniscule closet, I extract my tightest pair of leather pants and my skimpiest tank top. I pull on a black satin thong and matching bra, over which I place my scanty outfit. The steam has finally cleared from the bathroom, now, so I stand before the mirror and apply my make-up, going heavy on the eyeliner and lipstick. My hair is mostly dry by now, and I brush it until it shines.

I take a step back in order to appraise my appearance in the mirror. What I see is the old Faith staring back at me, the one who hides behind sexy clothes, dark make-up, and a killer attitude. Gone is the somewhat softer, kinder girl I had started to become with Buffy. Yeah, baby, the bitch is back! And, she doesn’t take shit off of anyone!

Heading back into the bedroom, I make quick order of tossing all of my clothes into a large duffel bag. I put on my boots and slide my arms into my favorite black leather jacket. Picking my bag up off of the bed, I head for the door, and don’t look back.

It’s time to move on. There’s no fucking way I can stand to stay in Sunny D, and risk running into Buffy. I may be a lot of things, but masochistic ain’t one of them. Time to cut my losses and move on. There are other towns that could use a Slayer. I’ve always heard that Chicago is nice.

The End

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