Written for the Femslash Minis LJ community. Prompts: Flashbacks, Alcohol, Teasing.

Just This

The city lay before her at her feet; its lights stretching up into the sky, prodding at the darkness like fingers trying to reach out for something that wasn't there. Reaching as if all the answers resided just beyond the stratosphere. Beyond the cloud layer. Beyond the unknown.

She took a swig of her quickly emptying bottle, ignoring the already empty ones beside her as she watched the last line of the sun ease behind the horizon; the ocean lapping up to its heat, helping it to fade to leave only the night. The trickle of alcohol slipped through Faith's veins, numbing the parts of her she needed to numb, and reinvigorating the parts that helped her strut her way through nights like this.

Her plan was to go out, dance, screw, forget.

It had been her coping mechanism for years. Even in jail she managed a few of those in a row sometimes – when she got lucky. Now she was free; all charges mysteriously dropped, or lost. Faith wasn't quite sure on the details but Angel had told her she didn't need to worry about it. He was her champion these days. Her solid ground.

But sometimes the ground still felt less than solid. Especially when she had to adjust to change.

Having just gotten used to being around Buffy and her crew again after their little run-in with an apocalypse in Sunnydale, Faith now had to re-adjust to Buffy being gone. Buffy had left that morning, headed for another Hellmouth to be "the Slayer and her Scoobies" once again, without Faith. Only a few of the newer slayers were still cluttering up Angel's hotel, waiting to take their flights towards Buffy's new Hellmouth and all the nasty things that called it home.

Giles had asked Faith if she wanted to go with them, but he had sounded less than encouraging. Maybe he was worried about another 'incident'. He probably didn't want another town stained with blood that Faith had spilled. He had young slayers to think of too; optimistic of their growth, and the integrity of their innocence. He obviously didn't want a corrupting influence too close at hand, and no matter how much Faith had changed or proven herself in the past few weeks. . .she was still being judged.

Buffy hadn't pursued the question of Faith joining them, choosing to ignore it and avoid Faith. Choosing to ignore the slight progress they'd made.

Things hadn't been difficult between them in the two weeks they'd been hanging out at Angel's expense, but they hadn't 'bonded' or made any further progress. It almost felt like Buffy was afraid to get close or let her guard down. Faith couldn't really blame her for that but it still stung. It still made every night feel that bit darker; that bit riskier.

She let the now empty bottle of beer slide from her grasp; watching as it plummeted the few floors of the hotel towards the ground. The harsh smash that rang out as it hit the trash strewn alley below made her shudder. Broken glass. Broken pieces that would never glue back together, no matter how hard you tried. No matter how hard she tried to do it every time herself.

"How many times have I told you. . .don't touch my fucking smokes, dumbass," her Father yells at her, grabbing his cigarettes from her small hands and reeling back, ready to strike her. Ready to teach her the lessons he never thinks she learns.

"Don't touch her," comes a shaky voice from behind his large frame; afraid. "Not again."

Her Father spins around, Faith forgotten as she cowers back. She knows he's grinning. She knows what comes next.

This is always the way it goes.

The sound of yelling, punching, breaking glass.

The sound of her childhood.

"There could have been people down there," somebody said behind Faith, bringing her back from the stained memories of her past and the pain that accompanied them.

Pain she hated admitting to. Hated even acknowledging.

"Serves 'em right if they wanna hang out in a stinkin' alley," Faith responded, grabbing another bottle from the table beside her.

She flicked off the top easily with her thumb and chugged down enough to wash away some of those haunting memories. They'd never be fully wiped out of her mind, but sometimes it was good just to blur the edges a little. Sometimes it was necessary.

"I don't think anybody would choose to 'hang out' in an alley, Faith," Fred said, speaking softly as she drew up to the rail of the balcony beside her. "They could be homeless. And now they're homeless and injured."

Faith huffed out a short laugh and turned her head so she could see the girl now stood next to her. Fred was petite and slight, and looked like a strong gust of wind could rip her from the balcony and tip her over the edge. That or a short, sharp shove. Not that Faith would do such a thing – she was reformed. Besides, Fred was kinda cute and fun to tease when the mood took.

"Yo, if there's anybody down there," Faith began, briefly turning her attention back to the alley and shouting down into it, "sorry for the smashed head, or whatever."

With a shrug, Faith turned around, leaning back against the rail and taking another swig.

"Well I guess that's better than nothing," Fred muttered, looking around nervously before perching on the edge of one of the old plastic seats they kept tucked up to the table.

Faith kept her eyes on the girl, wondering what she must be thinking, and why she was out there with her and not inside helping the stragglers from the Buffy-brigade with their plans to move.

"Shouldn't you be in there earning your sainthood with the rest of 'em?" Faith asked. "Or yunno, reading some books someplace about hobbits and numbers."

"Hobbits?" Fred questioned, giving Faith a confused look.

"You look like the hobbit type," she replied, guzzling back the rest of the beer and banging the bottle down beside Fred, making her jump nearly clean off the chair. "'Sides, I'm not exactly great company right now."

"I can see that," Fred agreed timidly. "Do you want to. . .talk about it? Maybe? I mean, I'm not exactly great to talk to and I know you don't know me very well, but I thought. . ."

"Cut the babble, cupcake," Faith interrupted. "Had enough of that with Red the last few weeks. All I wanna do right now is drink and fuck, and unless you're hidin' a fifth of Jack in your pocket and wanna drop your pants and hop up on the table for me so I can. . ."

Fred's eyes went wide and she shrank back into her chair, but she didn't shriek or run from the balcony in a fit of embarrassment. Just a few weeks ago Faith imagined that Fred would have done just that, but they'd been around each other more and more over the last couple of days and Fred seemed to be getting used to Faith's ways.

Faith wasn't sure she was happy about that; she liked to shock. Shocking people kept them wary of you. Kept them at a distance safe enough to tolerate.

"I don't have any drink," Fred offered, looking up at Faith through her thick eyelashes. "And I'm not. . .you know. I don't. . ."

"Yeah, Red told me," Faith exclaimed, pushing away from the rail and walking up to the glass door that separated them from the warmth and light inside the hotel. "She was all kinds of embarrassed about getting that wrong."

"She thought I was flirting with her," Fred reminisced, sliding her hand across the table to play with one of Faith's discarded bottles. "But I wasn't!" she added quickly.

"No need to freak, chica," Faith assured. "I'm not about to make a pass at ya, unless ya make it wicked obvious you want me to."

She gave Fred a wink and moved around to the seat opposite her, sitting down heavily and watching as Fred peeled chunks of garishly coloured label from the bottle she was busy fiddling with.

"That's not why I came out here," Fred responded, but she didn't sound sure, which confused Faith.

She had no idea why Fred was bothering to talk to her, especially given the fact it was obvious that she was on the wrong side of sober already. They hadn't spoken much. Hadn't 'hit it off' exactly, or found themselves drawn to each other. Fred had only really ever conversed with Faith when necessary, and there had always been other people around at the time.

"So why are ya out here?"

Fred put the bottle down and flicked her gaze up to meet Faith's, the brown of their eyes weaving together as Faith held still for an answer.

Maybe it was the drink, but Faith felt a trickle of desire deep down inside her that the other girl had never sparked before. Sure, she thought Fred was attractive and cute, but Faith hadn't let her mind wander to that place about her, nor let her body act on instinct in a way it had been so used to doing in the past. She'd tried to behave since breaking out of jail. Tried to be the model slayer, and the girl the younger slayers had began to look up to.

But tonight she felt abandoned, bored with being good, mad at having been left behind so easily. Though she was loath to admit those things, she wasn't stupid enough to think they didn't exist. She knew what she felt, and she knew what she'd do to stop feeling.

It was always the same.

A shop, a scratchy feeling in the pit of her stomach, a need that she couldn't touch; that nobody could. No, that only Buffy could. But Buffy wouldn't. Faith would never ask, she'd just feel, and hate that she felt it.

"When are ya gonna get this, B?" Faith asks, Buffy's green eyes making her insides squirm and wriggle. "Life for a slayer is very simple: Want. Take. Have."

She watches as Buffy copies. As Buffy embraces the part of herself that Faith can understand. That part that makes the impossible feel possible. That makes the tension worth it.

"I'm getting it," Buffy says, the words wrapping around Faith like a lover's embrace. Touching her in places she wishes she couldn't feel it; because feeling it now will only hurt more when it's gone. When Buffy inevitably comes to her senses.

"I just. . .I guess. . ." Fred stammered, looking like she was trying to grab at courage and run with it. "I was worried about you."

Fred's gaze dropped to the table and her hands fidgeted on her lap; stealing a touch from her cheek as it spiralled in a soft ringlet, a loose strand of hair fell out of her ponytail. Faith almost had the urge to lean forward and place it back. Let her fingers feel the softest of silky, brown. Enjoy the way it would likely cause Fred to jump in surprise, and then hopefully abandon herself to Faith's attention.

Many girls had done that very thing with Faith – leaving shocked and dishevelled from her motel room, or wherever it was she happened to be at the time. Turning to give Faith one last smile before they walked away with a good kind of ache between their legs and a memory that would confuse them and make them question who they really were.

Faith had always excelled at leading the way. Only Buffy had ever dodged her advances. Not that she'd had the chance to advance much, given the fact Buffy had confused Faith herself on a level that had left her soul open and bleeding.

"Worrying about me, Fred?" Faith teased with a chuckle. "Pretty sure that wouldn't score you points with your ex honey, or yunno. . .anyone."

"People do care, Faith," Fred told her, sounding stronger than Faith had ever heard her before.

Not that she didn't think Fred was strong – she knew Fred's story and there was no doubt that there was strength held within that slight frame.

"Right," Faith scoffed. "Next time you spot a person that cares, point 'em out to me, and I'll let ya know what it is they care about; what they want from me in return."

Bitterness tainted her words and she knew it, but there was no taking it back. She was only speaking the truth. She was only judging from previous experience.

"Angel doesn't want anything in return and he cares," Fred pointed out, her eyes once again not lingering on Faith's too long. "I care," she added, almost too quiet to hear.

Faith opened her mouth to shoot Fred down or make a joke, but their eyes snagged again and she could see truth in there. She could see truth, and something else she couldn't quite place. It might have been pity, but Faith really didn't want it to be pity so she flat out refused to accept it as a possibility.

"And what is it that you want?" Faith asked after a moment's hesitation.

She held her breath along with Fred as a few seconds of silence made it feel like the night was trying to close in and smother them both. Faith watched as Fred's eyes revealed more to her than Fred probably wanted, but she didn't say anything, she just waited.

"I don't. . ." Fred shook her head and looked to her hands in her lap, her chest rising and falling faster than necessary. "I don't want anything," she all but whispered.

It would have been easy right then to call her a liar; Faith had been around enough interested 'straight' girls to spot certain signs. But it almost felt wrong to say anything. She didn't want Fred to panic and leave. She didn't want to be out there alone any longer with her past, even if she thought less of herself for acknowledging that.

"So you're just full of the warm and fuzzies for me for no reason," Faith mocked, unable to completely hold back. "Just hopped up on good feelings and helpful advice, no doubt."

Pushing up off the chair and reaching into a bag at the corner of the balcony, Faith prepared herself for Fred's inevitable backtrack. She'd either offer to be Faith's friend in her time of need, or she'd just leave; choosing to keep the lion caged rather than let it run free.

"Unless you wanted to know about differential equations or how to split a subatomic particle. . .then advice really isn't my field," Fred responded.

With a laugh, Faith twisted off the cap on a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels and offered it to Fred.

"Well if you're not here to play big sister, at least have a drink with me," she said.

"I don't really drink," Fred told her with a timid shake of her head. "And maybe. . .maybe you shouldn't. . ."

"Don't start preachin' at me, cupcake," Faith warned. "I'm in the mood for drunken debauchery, and even if I don't reach the debauched part 'cause I'm too fucked up by then. . .I at least wanna have fun tryin'."

She swallowed down a big gulp of golden liquid that burned its way down her throat, grinning and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Fred looked on.

"Maybe I'll try a little bit," Fred said, reaching out for the bottle still in Faith's hand.

It was Faith's turn to be wide eyed, but she handed Fred the bottle. Fred took a tentative sip, then another larger one as Faith sat back in her chair, her eyes locked on Fred.

"It. . .it burns," Fred squeaked when she placed the bottle back down again.

She coughed a little but fought to control it.

"The good stuff always burns," Faith assured. "All the good things hurt just a little."

"That doesn't seem healthy; from a medical and psychological viewpoint, as well as probably several others," Fred pointed out, still wincing a little.

"Might not be healthy but at least you know it's real."

Faith grabbed the bottle and lifted it to her lips, but she placed it back down when Fred looked away sadly.

"That sounds kinda screwed up huh," Faith admitted, following Fred's gaze out into the lights of the city.

"I was confused for a long time," Fred said after a short silence. "Scared, lonely and lost, and. . .screwed up I guess you could call it, though I've never diagnosed myself exactly or gone looking for a label."

Faith nodded, just listening to Fred's voice over the hum of traffic floating up from the streets below.

"Sometimes you wonder if you'll ever be normal. If you'll ever just fit in," she continued.

"You don't think you fit in?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to," Fred confessed.

Leaning forwards, Faith offered Fred the bottle again, which Fred accepted without objection. She took a larger drink but winced just the same.

"So. . .you care about how I feel 'cause you think you feel the same?" Faith asked, still trying to make sense of why Fred was sat out there with her.

"I don't profess to know how you feel, Faith," Fred admitted. "But I can see you're hurting. Probably about Buffy leaving."

Faith narrowed her eyes and bit her tongue; close to telling Fred to back off. She didn't need people prying into how she felt about Buffy and all the crap that went along with that.

"Not everything's about her," Faith practically growled.

"Then why are you out here drinking? Alone?" Fred asked, her voice quaking a little.

"Yunno, for a timid little thing, you're pretty fucking ballsy," Faith said with a chuckle. "Not many people would call me on my shit."

"So that is why you're out here?"

"That and a whole buncha life crap I don't wanna care about anymore," Faith declared. "Yunno what? I don't wanna talk about shit like this when I'm plannin' to go out and party hard."

Faith stood abruptly from her chair, growing annoyed with herself as she felt the numbness wear off under Fred's questions. She needed to move, to dance, to let it all go in a fight or a fuck. Her skin was itching and her blood searing the inside of her veins, wanting to be pumped harder. Wanting Faith to grow wild and reckless.

"Wanna come dancin' with me, Fred?" Faith asked, standing closer to the other girl as she looked up at Faith with apprehension in her eyes.

"I. . .I don't think that would be a good idea, Faith," Fred replied, glancing away.

"Probably not, but you only live once," Faith pointed out. "And I. . .I don't exactly wanna be alone, despite all the aloneness I'm doin' right now," she confessed quietly, feeling stupid and pathetic for saying it out loud.

She turned away from Fred, clutching onto the railing and staring out into the night as her resolve started to wane; her strength beginning to fade. Closing her eyes, Faith sought the place inside her she knew would carry her through the night. The place that blocked out all but the desire to keep living, to keep gripping to the things that she could name. The only way to get to the other side was to block out everything in-between.

"You won't be alone if you stay," Fred said, closer now, obviously standing just behind Faith. "I don't want just let you go. . .out, I mean. Not like this."

"Like what?" Faith asked, her voice a husky whisper on the breeze blowing across the ledge.

"Upset, disappointed, sitting under a burly cloud mass of latent depression," Fred answered, her hand tentatively resting on Faith's shoulder.

Faith felt her body tense up under the touch, for more reasons than she cared to think about. She wasn't upset, she was angry; but it was complicated being angry about something that had been with her for years. Something that had always prodded and poked at her.

She couldn't yell and kick out - not anymore. All she had left was the strategy to cope, to bury it down until nobody saw the seething anger still inside. Faith guessed it was easier to name it sadness, when really. . .it was so much more volatile than that.

"I'm not about to get depressed," Faith assured, trying to relax even though every muscle was taut and burning for release. "I don't do emo."

"I know," Fred said, hand still lightly touching Faith's shoulder. "You're more likely to 'do' death metal. To others."

Faith gripped the rail tighter; that anger inside bubbling up at Fred's insinuation that she would hurt people again. Spinning around, Faith grabbed Fred's wrist, ripping her hand from her shoulder, holding it tight in her grip as she stepped in close to her.

"Whad'ya think, I'm gonna go out on some kinda killin' spree?" Faith asked harshly, her face close to Fred's. "Is that why you're out here? To talk me outta going crazy on the neighbourhood?"

"No. . .no. I. . ."

"I'm not that person anymore," Faith spat, her nostrils flared and lungs burning for air. "I never was, I just. . ."

Another rooftop. Another night. Another pair of eyes burning into her.

"You have no idea what it's like on the other side!" Faith exclaims. "Where nothing's in control. Nothing makes sense! There's just pain and hate and nothing you do means anything. You can't even. . ."

"Shut up!" Buffy interrupts, tears threatening to fall. To splash at their feet and drench their already broken hearts.

"Just tell me how to make it better."

Nothing.

Always nothing more.

She gazed into Fred's eyes, disappearing into them, seeing fear in them. Seeing herself reflected back. The last thing she wanted to do was mess up what she had there with Angel and his crew. The last thing she wanted to do was scare the hell out of this sweet girl that had done nothing wrong to her.

She wasn't the one that had hurt her, or tossed her aside.

Faith released her grip on Fred and took a step back, waiting for Fred to run, to yell for help, or to act on instinct and slap her. But Fred didn't do any of those things. Instead, she just kept looking into Faith's eyes, making Faith feel uncomfortable and awkward in her own skin – something she wasn't used to feeling.

"Don't," Faith said softly, her voice almost unrecognisable. "Don't look at me like that."

Fred scrunched up her brow a little and took a tiny step closer to Faith as Faith backed herself up against the railing.

"Don't pity me," Faith implored, her heart thumping in her chest as she did her best to remain calm, to keep from breaking.

"I'm not," Fred told her gently. "I'm just. . .I. . ."

Fred looked scared. Terrified, in fact. Looked like she wanted to leap into something Faith hadn't even seen coming. She dropped her gaze down between them - more loose curls tumbling from her messy ponytail - and Faith could see that the girl was trembling ever so slightly as she approached the darkness Faith clouded herself in.

Faith could have pushed her away. She could have closed up, moved to the side, teased Fred for daring to step behind her barriers, but she allowed her approach. She watched as Fred stepped within her shadows. Watched and noticed Fred's own barriers for the first time as she laid them down so she could get closer to Faith.

She saw Fred face her fear when their eyes met and was caught by surprise with how it made her feel. With how easy it suddenly felt to relax her shoulders and stop questioning Fred's motives, her own motives, and everything in-between.

A calmness seemed to drape itself over them as their profile made an intriguing imprint on the skyline. No wind dared to whisper its way between them. No sound dared to travel to their ears and interrupt.

"I don't pity you," Fred said, speaking so softly it was almost seductive. "I don't fear you. I don't think the worst of you; I only see what you try to hide from everybody else."

Lifting her chin with a slight nod, Faith stopped herself from letting the words bounce off. Maybe the alcohol was playing tricks, or maybe it was just making it easier to listen. Whatever the case, she didn't fight it.

"And you can push me away," Fred continued slowly, giving Faith time to skim through every conversation they'd ever had, scrutinize every look they'd ever shared. Every touch that had been placed on her by Fred. Every small smile that had been sent shyly her way. "But it won't stop me seeing. It won't stop me caring."

A gentle hand reached up to Faith's face; palm warming her cheek as Faith allowed Fred to inch closer and closer until they were almost touching. Almost within each other's arms; warm breaths drifting over lips, and noses only inches apart. That trickle of desire she'd felt earlier tingled inside Faith once again. It slipped over her skin as it invited her to relinquish control and dare to seek out what she needed. Not anger, not hate, not fighting or fucking, but feeling. Really feeling. Connecting. Letting go.

"Fred," she said, the word dropping from her parted lips like a caress. "What are you. . ."

Fred's thumb drifted to Faith's lips, effectively hushing her as it charted their plumpness. She seemed lost, transfixed, hypnotized by the touch she was giving Faith. By the way Faith began to breathe heavier, faster. By the way the remaining distance between them disintegrated to nothing.

"I don't know," Fred whispered over Faith's lips. "I just. . .I need to. . ."

She slowly removed her thumb; replacing it with her lips so tentatively that Faith almost moaned in response. Almost quickly switched to definitely as she pressed back so their lips met more firmly and their eyes slid shut to close out the world around them.

Hands pushed into Faith's hair as her own found their way to Fred's hips, pulling her impossibly close. Closer still as their lips parted and tongues welcomed warmth and quickening breaths; kissing with an abandon that was probably surprising Fred just as much as it was surprising Faith. Every soft moan pushed them deeper into each other, hands grasping now instead of holding. Hearts thumping and bodies straining for more contact.

The taste of need on Fred's lips intoxicated Faith and burned away the reasons to stop. She didn't want to stop. A flutter of excitement in her stomach grew until every last one of her walls crashed down, letting Fred lay her fingers on the agony inside her to soothe it - if just for a little while.

Letting her lips travel over Fred's mouth, to her nose, to her cheeks, down to her throat and back again, Faith drank down every surprisingly sexy whimper and moan that Fred gave her. She enjoyed the shy yet sensual touches, the obvious desire and yearning, the unspoken thing that was keeping Faith from cruelly taking charge and using Fred. The unspoken thing that kept Faith from pushing her away.

This girl now busy sucking at her neck and wrapping around Faith in every way possible while still standing up was new to her, but somehow she understood. She understood now that Fred had the same anger inside. The same fear. The same need to grip to whatever felt real. They were so completely different on the outside, and in their ways, yet not so dissimilar under the layers that covered the scars.

"Fred," Faith groaned, hearing the lust on her own lips. "Fred, you. . .fuck," she breathed hard as Fred's fingers found their way under her shirt, sliding up her abdomen in search of something to fill her palm.

Pulling her lips away from Faith's skin, Fred looked up at her; hand poised and eyes full of wonder.

"Are you going to say we can't do this?" Fred asked, "Because I know. . .it's kind of out of the blue, and you didn't know I even liked you, and there's an infinite, incalculable, totally astronomically immense number of reasons we're making a mistake but. . ."

She licked her lips as her fingertips softly stroked at Faith's skin under her shirt.

"But?" Faith prompted, happy for Fred to dispute any and all reasons not to continue.

Fred gave Faith one of the sweetest smiles she thought she'd ever seen before replying, "We only live once, and I'm tired of being alone."

She wasn't mocking Faith by practically repeating what she had said herself only a short while ago. Faith could see the truth in her eyes. She could see into her. She could see herself through her.

"And what about tomorrow, when I'm sober and you regret this?" Faith pressed, confusing herself for not just taking what was on offer.

Hadn't she wanted this? Wanted to lose herself in some meaningless sex?

Though how meaningless it would be was what she was really questioning.

"Tomorrow. . .you'll probably have a hangover," Fred replied, slipping her hand back out from under Faith's shirt and finding Faith's fingers to link them together. "And I could never regret you letting me escape into you."

Faith held her breath, unsure how to respond; experiencing a sensation she hadn't felt in so long she didn't know quite how to express it, even to herself.

She hadn't planned on this, not any of it. The night had meant to be a blur of booze, drowning, forgetting, seducing the world to make her feel alive. There was no forgetting here, only a warm space in which to shelter from the hurt the world had inflicted on her, and the hurt she'd inflicted back.

This wouldn't be a blur, it would be a possibility. A possibility to have something, hold something, be something real.

"Lead the way," Faith said quietly, but with conviction.

Fred smiled – no, beamed in fact – and gripped tighter to Faith's hand, turning and leading her from the empty bottles and the darkening sky. She took Faith to her room. She took Faith to places neither of them had ever been.

Clothes tumbling to the floor, legs entwining, grasping, turning, breathing new life into each other until a sunrise bled into the room and bathed their sated bodies with its warmth; they found solace in the silences and strength in their sounds. They found words they barely understood, and feelings that brought them together again and again until hurt no longer hid them behind its smothering touch.

No more questions. No regrets. No memory too painful to bear. No Buffy.

Just this.

Just for a while.

The end…for now.