Always Got Tonight

by Freelance Spice

Copyright © 2004

Freelancespice@gmail.com

Rating: NC.17
Disclaimer: Joss birthed them. I just give them tainted candy.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: I'm not too proud to beg for it. I've spent a LOT of time with this story, so hearing from anyone who actually happened to like it would make my whole damn month...
Spoilers: Wrecked.
Pairing: Faith/Tara

So this was what the other side of parole looked like. Walking a mutt in the middle of the night in a town where you weren't welcome but was the only place you'd ever call home. It was doable. Better than prison, anyway.

She'd been out for a week, fairly certain that this unexpected parole had come up way too quickly, but found that arguing about it with the California penal system was pointless. So, here she was, somewhere just shy of two AM, leash in one hand, Lucky Strike in the other, well aware of the crappy hands life could deal at any given moment and more than slightly unsettled by the better cards she'd been dealt more recently.

"Bender...come on." She gently tugged on the pup's leash as he expressed serious stereotypical interest in a fire hydrant. The struggle between Slayer and beast proceeded for a good minute until something else caught Bender's attention.

Upon first glance, Faith assumed that it was Buffy underneath the head of blond hair, but closer inspection revealed an earthy long sweater and a skirt of the flowy variety. Tara. Funny, the last time she'd seen her, Faith had been the blond. And she'd been Buffy. And she'd been kind of a bitch. Minus the "kind of."

The dog trotted over to the bus stop bench, sniffing Tara's shoes, dragging Faith behind him.

"Sorry. He's new. To me. Not so much to the world. I'm still working on getting him to do stuff like...making him listen to any damn word I say."

Tara reached out, giving Bender a well-received scratch behind the ears. A soft smile spread across her lips, honest and real and uncommon for her over the past couple weeks. "Maybe he just likes giving you a hard time."

"Yeah, well, I'd be one who deserves all the hard timeyness coming my way." Faith wondered if the other girl even had any idea who she was. She had, after all, been having an In Buffy's Body Experience the single time they'd met.

"When'd you get out"

Okay, she did remember. "'Bout a week ago." Faith put up her hands. "Totally legit. Didn't bust out or nothin'."

Tara nodded. "I know. I mean, I figured," she clarified in response to Faith's puzzled expression. "Your aura's kinda jumbly, but not showing anything scary."

"Huh." Faith perched herself on the back of the bench, hooking the leash over the corner nearest to her. "Kinda late for the bus." She nodded toward the bus stop sign.

"Yeah." Tara's eyes remained on the dog. "Just kinda needed to sit and think."

"Trouble on the home front?"

"Something like that."

Faith didn't press for details and Tara seemed to appreciate it. "Found him outside of a motel off the 101." She leaned forward and patted Bender on the head. "He set up camp outside my room and wouldn't let me leave without him."

"Must've sense you've got a good heart."

"Must've been mixin' signals with someone else." Faith glanced at the large paper bag next to Tara's feet. "Havin' a party?"

Tara looked sheepishly at the sack full of wine coolers. "I had a plan. Didn't get that far, yet."

"Drinkin' alone's no good."

"So I hear."

Bender's head whipped around, ears perked up, eyes focused on something across the street.

"Duty calls." Faith unhooked the leash from the edge of the bench, letting Bender tear after whatever he'd seen. "Back in a sec." She trailed after the mutt, who was tailing a vampire who had ducked into a nearby alley. The Slayer gained on both of them, grabbing the vamp by the shoulders and slamming him into the wall.

"Oi!" protested the undead American as his head bounced off the brickwork.

Faith gripped his collar while Bender barked wildly behind her. "Spike."

"Yeah, that's me. Mind tellin' me why you and the mongrel are assaulting blokes in dark alleys?"

"You obviously don't remember me." She slightly cocked her head. "Name's Faith."

"Oh, Faith," he repeated, voice laced with sarcasm. Spike let the name process. "Oh. Right. Faith. You're the one."

"Damn right." Pause. "Wait. The one what?"

"The one Buffy said she..." Bender was still barking. "Sit down and shut it!" The dog obeyed and sat silently.

Faith glanced at Bender, surprised. "That's new." She turned her attention back to her captive. "The one Buffy said she what?"

The look on Faith's face told Spike she was fairly aware of what he was talking about. Which was just enough to keep him from saying anything else. "Um...oh...just that you were the one she...knows is the other slayer."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you two have plenty of heart to hearts." She leaned in closer. "How 'bout we have a nice stake to heart. Just the two of us."

"Hey, I'm reformed!" He tapped his head. "Government technology at work here. In fact, slayin' me may very well be a federal offense."

"Do I look stupid?"

"Well..." The hold on his collar tightened. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in the big house?"

"Parole."

"So...muckin' up Big Brother's science project isn't something you want on your record."

He had a point. "What the story on the head trip?"

"Can't hurt a living soul. Non-demon, anyway."

She considered what he was saying. As she stood there, she remembered that she'd left Tara all alone at the bus stop. "All right." She let him go, then slapped the end of Bender's leash into his hand. "Twenty-four hours. You don't kill this dog, I'll buy your story and not kill you." With that she rushed out of the alley.

"I'm not a sodding pet sitter!" But she was already long gone. He looked at Bender, who just stared up at him. "You'd better keep that yap shut during Passions. I mean it."

By the time Faith made it back to the bus stop, Tara and her merry bag of fruity tricks had disappeared.

"Damn."

"Missin' a hot date?" came Spike's voice from behind her, punctuated by the metallic zing of his Zippo. He shook an extra cigarette out of his pack and offered it to her.

She considered remaining cautious, still not sure about his super secret Government story, but the nicotine craving spoke louder than logic. "Thanks. And not so much hot date as potential damage control. Girl seemed pretty down."

"This your new game? Outta prison, spread some cheer?"

"Maybe. Guess we're all playin' by new rules."

He shrugged, nodding in agreement. "So, some bird's own and out in the dead of night...she was of the living sort, right?"

"Yeah." She thought about. "I think so. She still seemed very alive, very Tara, Good Witch of the North Side of Sunnydale."

"Oh, Tara?" He took a long drag. "Got news for you, Parolee. That's not potential damage control, that's Code Red Level Five. Minus the Red."

"Couple of the decade's over, huh? I kinda wondered."

Spike nodded. "I say the poor girl needs a good rebound. I'd offer, but..." He glanced down, past his waistline.

Faith smirked. "Such the Samaritan."

"Hey, you've got girly bits. Fresh outta the pen. Maybe you should-"

"Don't even finish that sentence. I'm trying to make amends, not waves. Last thing I need is a witch and a slayer pissed off at me. Again."

"Trust me, I get that. But in all fairness, she's her own girl...woman. Kinda irks me the way anyone outside of their little core clique gets labeled as an accessory and never their own person. Not that I'd know."

"Still. Don't wanna take advantage."

"Sure, sure. I suppose she could just wanna talk." He looked down at Bender. "Well, I've got to get the kiddie here home. Get him a good meal and some rest. Wouldn't want him to keel over on me."

Faith chuckled as she walked away, dog in tow.

"Anderson Hall, room 117," he called out, not even turning around.

She didn't even ask Faith how she'd known which room was hers. By the time the Slayer'd gotten there, she'd already tackled at least two of her many colored malt beverages.

"Red or blue?" was Tara's greeting.

"Uh..." Faith stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Which one wakes me up from the Matrix?"

"Blue," Tara said with certainty.

"Blue it is, then."

Tara handed her a Blue Hawaiian wine cooler. "Or maybe it's red. I don't remember."

"Guess we'll find out."

They small talked about Tara's classes and Faith's prison life, avoiding the topic of why they were even in the same room together, slowly working their way toward drunkenness, each empty bottle removing inches between them until they were both sitting on Tara's bed, playing question and answer games that were specifically designed to be played when people's defenses were hindered by alcohol.

"Well, Will described you as a cleavagey slut bomb..." was Tara's answer to Faith's question about her original perception of her. She didn't realize it was the first time she'd mentioned her ex's name all night.

"Sounds accurate. You could probably tag a 'psychopathic' on there somewhere, too."

"She did."

"There you go."

"But you seem okay to me." She put a hand on Faith's knee.

"Redemption and rehabilitation."

"Looks good on you."

Faith gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

With that, Tara's lips were pressed firmly against her, hand sliding up her thigh to her waist. Caught off guard, but not entirely surprised, Faith returned the kiss, then pulled back.

"Tara...are you sure –"

"Shut up. I need a good fuck, not a lecture."

Faith was slightly thrown by Tara's use of profanity, but somehow, even the most profane sounded good and right and perfect coming from her. "Good, 'cause I suck at lectures."

Their lips found each other again, no hesitancy, no second thoughts and any ideas of "maybe we shouldn't" were edged out by the six percent alcohol content that had inhabited the many now empty bottled that littered the room.

Tara's hands moved over Faith's sweater, absently musing to herself that, while a bit cleavagey, it wasn't slut bomby in any way. In fact, the shirt was a darker version of a blue on she owned herself. And in moments, it was on the floor next to her own skirt, sweater and Faith's jeans.

Faith's lips and fingers worked with a surprising gentleness over Tara's body. She didn't move like a rabid hungry ex-con; she glided and caressed with a consoling softness until it wasn't enough.

"Please, Faith." Tara's words were barely a moaned whisper in her ear. But they were enough.

Two, then three fingers found their way into the slick wetness, sinking as deep as they possibly could, rolling Tara's eyes back into her head and eliciting a moan that could very well be the hottest sound Faith had ever heard.

Tara grabbed Faith's shoulders, pulling her in for a searing kiss, not concerned with gentle or delicate or any of the other things that girl on girl kisses were rumored to be. This was lips and teeth and tongue, communicating just how much she wanted, needed all this, wimpering as Faith's thumb made contact with her clit. The audible signs of her pleasure soon because tactile kinesthetic as her hips bucked, body tightened and Faith found her hand soaked with the evidence that there was, at least, one thing in the world she was well versed in other than killing things.

Tara's breathing metered to a slow, steadiness, the afterglow basking cut short as she slid down Faith's body, unceremoniously pushing her legs apart.

"You don't have to – OH, FUCK."

Tara's previous comment about fucking vs. lecturing flashed though Faith's mind. Or, it would have if she'd been capable of processing coherent thought with Tara's tongue doing THAT. Drunk or not, the girl had superb linguistic skills, despite the stutter. Or maybe the speech impediment was actually a blessing as repetitive mouth motions were VERY GOOD in situations like this.

It didn't take long before Faith felt that familiar wave of hottinglybodysweatheadrush crashing over her, pushing Tara's name off the tip of her own tongue. Somewhere in the post haze, the other girl had settled into Faith's shoulder, blond hair just short of tickling her nose.

The Slayer sighed, content as the early rays of another Sunnydale sunrise toyed with the edges of the dorm room curtains.

Definitely better than prison.

The End

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