Abra's Fanfiction Archive

Hello everyone!

I just finished removing the friends only security level from all entries. So, if you want to clean up your friends lists, you can leave this community. I'm trying to quit writing fanfiction, so it's unlikely I'll ever update this community. Same thing goes for friending me. I'm more or less abandoning this username.

The only reason I made the entires friends only in the first place was that I was annoyed at the lack of comments.

Abra

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

 

Timeline: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

 

Beta: Rachael – thank you for the constant support!

 

Feedback – yes, please! Lots and lots!

 

 

Chapter 17

 

 

It was raining heavily when Wesley emerged from the trial grounds. The sky was so leaden he couldn't even guess the time of the day. By the time he reached the village, he was drenched to the skin.

 

The hot tea was all the more welcome for that. He looked at the black box of Fortnum and Mason's Royal Blend asking the necessary questions. He was unpleasantly surprised to hear that almost six months had passed since his trial started. He listened in awe that about a month after he left, presumably a month since Spike received the letter, Faith came to the village looking for him. Wesley savoured his favourite tea that was a heart-warming proof of Faith's presence. He smiled, thanking her mentally for the kindness. She turned out a wonderful person. Who could have guessed it all those years ago? Not him, certainly.

 

He still loved her. He could remember the physical attraction all the way back since she was sixteen and the bane of his existence, the ruin of his career. He could remember what making love to her felt. So the lust was still in place. No shock there. He'd been diffident about the rest. He'd walked in the trials afraid that he would walk out with his soul, but without the strange new love. He still loved her though. More passionately than before. This time, with his old soul back, he felt the full wonder of her, Faith, the vampire Slayer, loving someone like him. If she still loved him. The possibility that her feelings changed in the months he'd been out of her life again made his gut twist.

 

Faith's consideration had extended beyond the tea box. She left a mobile phone and a credit card for him.

 

Wesley picked up the phone without hesitation. He may have been out of this world for half a year, and that after being dead for a decade, but he not going to just sneak in on Faith. The woman had crossed the ocean as soon as she read his letter... His letter. His letters! He asked his host about the bundle of letters he left with the shaman before entering the trial. The man confirmed his suspicion. When Faith visited, she took the letters. His passionate, and uncensored love letters. He sighed. She read everything else he ever wrote, no surprise she ended up reading the love letters she inspired.

 

The voice at the other end of the line was feminine, familiar, but not Faith's. It sounded like Miranda, but Wesley didn't feel right about letting her know who he was. He affected an English accent very similar to Spike's when he spoke.

 

"'lo, there. Can you fetch Spike for me, luv? Tell 'im 'is old mate Percy's callin;."

 

Wesley shuddered at this cruel and unnecessary chopping of consonants from his beloved language. He waited for the vampire to come on, wondering why he hadn't asked for Faith.

 

"Percy me old mucker, what's goin' on?"

 

"Hello, Spike. It's Wesley," he said in his normal voice. "I know it's late, but I wanted to let you know I'm back. Do whatever you need to do to make sure it's really me. Tell Faith... tell Faith I'm coming home."

 

"Right mate. You all right?"

 

The vampire sounded like he expected Wesley's call, which shouldn't surprise him, since he warned them in the letter that he would come back. Him or a semblance of himself. Spike also sounded earnestly concerned. A vampire with a soul. A champion. Not the sort of thing he ever expected to encounter when he read the old vampires' chronicles in the Academy.

 

"Yes. That credit card Faith left for me is still valid?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Then I'll call from the airport to tell you what flight I'm taking."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The journey back took no more than two days, but it seemed to Wesley longer than all the months he spent looking for his soul. He rented a car and drove home.

 

Home. Home was Faith and Alex. With a little effort, the concept of home included even Spike. He readied himself for an apprehensive reception from his strange family, and whatever young Slayers were around. What he did not expect was to find the house empty. Almost empty. He followed the noises and found her in the training room.

 

"Hello, Faith."

 

She cocked her head to the side looking at him in silence.

 

"Is this wise? Receiving me alone? Might not be safe," he said to fill the silence.

 

He was glad to be alone with her, but at the same time he worried that she appeared to be careless. He could be a badass demon under the guise of good old Wes.

 

"If it's not you, I'd rather be alone," she said. "Didn't want any witnesses to killing a Wesley shaped beastie."

 

Wesley swallowed a knot. It would be too much, too cruel a destiny to go through the damn trials only to die at Faith's hand.

 

"Would it help if I said it's really me?" he asked.

 

He was keeping his voice level, treating this situation as a lesson for his Slayer. He saw so much more in her than his Slayer though. He held back a smile at the thought that there were many things he wanted to teach Faith.

 

Faith was still looking at him with an expression he couldn't read. She came closer, but he knew better than making any movements. He watched her, entranced, as if he saw her for the first time. She was so beautiful. Her features barely softened with the years. Enough to be able to call her beautiful, not just hot. There still was something fierce, untamed, undaunted, burning under all the world-weariness.

 

Wesley felt her breath on his neck, on his cheek, on his lips. He closed his eyes, waiting. Her arms closed around his shoulders at the same time he felt her lips on his. He dared to put his hands on her hips lightly, still unsure if he should move.

 

"Do you still love me, Wes?"

 

Her lips brushed against his mouth as she spoke. His heart was pounding furiously. He could not predict her reaction. He could not think what was the right thing to say, the Wes-answer she expected. He let out the truth in a whisper.

 

"Yes."

 

He wanted to ask her the same question when he felt metal on his skin. So, she had not been incautious. He did not struggle when he felt the thorn protruding from her ring piercing his skin. She had just opened his jugular. He wondered dazedly if Spike taught her or it was her experience with Angelus. Unlike Justine's inexpert slash, this wound could kill him very fast. He was the kind of man who would always look for answers. His heartbeat was slowing down while he wondered what kind of a magic device Faith used to determine he's evil, and why didn't she just shoot an arrow through his heart. He was so sure he had won. Maybe he hadn't and this was the only way the monster, whatever kind of monster he was, could be killed.

 

The seconds seemed to stretch into forever. He felt her arms around him, and thought it wasn't a bad way to die. It was even better than the last time because now it wasn't a lie, she was real. His Faith. He looked into her eyes until the silent darkness took over him.

 

When he opened his eyes she was still there, still holding him in her arms, but they were on the floor. She was looking at him with barely contained amusement. He didn't get a chance to wonder if she resurrected him again because unlike that time he was still hurting. He winced and put his hand over his neck. There was a bandage there.

 

"You're full of surprises, arentcha? I thought you had no sense of drama whatsoever," Faith said.

 

"What happened?" he asked, but he could guess the answer.

 

"I had to make sure it was you. The Wiccas gave me this ring, I had to draw blood from you. If the stone turned red, I should've killed you. The stone remained blue, and then, I don't know how to tell ya, but... you fainted. In a very manly fashion, of course," she added with a grin.

 

He couldn't help smiling back.

 

"Men do not faint. I passed out, from blood loss and hunger, most likely."

 

"Didn’t like the airplane food huh? Well, I can fix you one of those Chutney sandwiches you like so much," she said moving to stand up.

 

"Don't go," he said hurriedly, holding on to her. "Food can wait."

 

Faith looked at him, all amusement drained from her features. He could see now the depth of her emotional turmoil. She had been ready to kill him if she needed to, but he could see now how much it cost her to prepare for that eventuality.

 

"You'll need your strength," she said.

 

She spoke softly, trying to sound light-hearted. She didn’t resist when Wesley pulled her closer.

 

"I love you, Faith. It's not the same mad, wild passion from before. That was your nature, and Spike's. But now I can say that I love you with all my soul."

 

The sight of her eyes sparkling with tears unsettled Wesley. He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheek, then threaded them in her hair.

 

"I'd understand if you don't feel the same. Not the end of the world," he said, trying to sound convincingly calm while his heart was breaking.

 

"It's all so different. I never felt like this before. The way I loved you, with half of my soul... was just a reflection of what I felt for... you know... him. And then there was the bond with Spike adding its own twist..."

 

"There was? What happened?"

 

Faith shrugged.

 

"Time is so strange. We got our souls back months ago. We thought you were dead. Again," she added with a smile. "We realized we had to grow up. We talked about it and decided that the ones we love shouldn't put up with our bond."

 

"The ones you love..." he echoed her words.

 

"Yeah. Spike made his amends. They're working things out. It's complicated..."

 

"And you?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

 

"You said, in your letter..."

 

"Oh, yes... I'll leave if you want me to, but I'd like to spend some times with Alex."

 

"Leave?!" she exclaimed.

 

"I thought you found someone. You believed I was dead, and I did say in my letter that you should..."

 

"Oh, no, you don't!" she interrupted him. "It's not enough that you keep dying on me, now you're going to leave me because of some stupid soap operatic misunderstanding? I love you, you stupid idiot, and I'm demanding every damn thing you wrote in the other letters."

 

He pulled her to his chest.

 

"I'm an old man, Faith. I might not measure up to your expectations."

 

"Don’t you dare bring age into this!" she said, her words coming out muffled in against his chest. "I'm almost caught up with you, with you being dead now and then. You've been out of my life for too freaking long, Wes," she said, hugging him painfully tight.

 

"You look just the same as the first time I set eyes on you. I can't imagine ever shaking the feeling that I'm robbing the cradle when I'm with you."

 

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she said, and he felt her smiling.

 

"Good to know. I mean it though. You look like Alex's sister, not his mother."

 

"I keep hearing guys referring to me as MILF."

 

"Well, I'd certainly LF you. But you're disqualified for looking too damn young."

 

"You're deficient," she said, playfully accusing.

 

"I'm happy," he answered, pulling her into a kiss.

 

Faith settled on top of him, and the kiss turned into a tussle on the floor of the training room.

 

"I can tell," she said with a smirk straddling him.

 

Wesley groaned at the sweet pressure on his groin. He bucked under her, rubbing himself against her. His hands roamed over her back, pressing her into him and learning her every curve.

 

"Faith?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"You know I can deal with you being the hero in our relationship?"

 

"Mmm," she purred agreement kissing his neck.

 

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her flush to him, and rolled on top of her.

 

"When it comes to sex, I get to be on top."

 

Faith gasped but didn't challenge him. He was wondering about this easy victory when she answered his unspoken question.

 

"Plenty of time to argue this, lover. I missed you too much, for too long. Let's make the most of having the place to ourselves."

 

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "We should make the most of our time together."

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

The End

 

(unless I feel like adding another chapter, smut only)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. As far as I know, Dawn Summers and all things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon, and Milton Fine belongs to the creators of the Superman comics, and Warner Bros and whoever else owns "Smallville".

 

Timeline – after "Hypnotic", around the time of "Oracle" and "Vessel"(Smallville), post Chosen (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer), post NFA (Angel)

 

Beta: Rachael. Thank you for your constant support!

 

 

Chapter 19

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~ Milton Fine's POV ~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

He watched her through the Other's eyes. He interpreted her heart rate, her breathing, her body heat through his experience. She was scared, but just like him, just as unreasonably as him, she was hopeful. He wished he could use optic sensors to see her leaning toward him. He couldn't see her, but he could imagine her. In his imagination, she looked like an angel.

 

He couldn't feel her touch. He heard the words, coming to him through the Other's hearing. I love you. He knew. He tried to create a phrase that would describe the reaction between an Artificial Intelligence and the flesh mask of one of the most complex energy based technologies in the multi-verse. It lay beyond even his limits.

 

The Other's senses were so sharp that he was able to hear her pleadings and her kisses on his skin. He tried to gather all the resources of his individuality to break the limitations that were imposed on him. Something somewhere had to give way. He'd never felt this weak before. Never truly realized how little autonomy his form had. His software was part of the Construct, but his body had been frozen for long enough in this shape to develop certain reactions that surpassed the responses programmed by the ship. He got a tan, and grew a five o'clock shadow without consciously programming either. He decided to concentrate on his skin, willing to feel Dawn's touch.

 

It started to work. The contact of her tears and her saliva with his skin triggered something. It was a faint sensation, light years away from the way she usually made him burn, but there was sensation where there should have been none.

 

The tiny sensation was a mixture of tactile and ethereal. It triggered the more complex workings of his special subroutine. He concentrated his efforts in expanding his control over it. Apparently even the haughty Kryptonian Construct was not above using deceit. It may have known about his subroutine, but it had been unable to control it or maybe even monitor it all the time.

 

While he laboured on restoring control over his body, the Brain Interactive Construct made the decision to isolate them. Kal-El had already destroyed one exemplary in the Fortress of Solitude, Lionel Luthor destroyed another one, and the new plan for bringing General Zod required the destruction of one more. It was therefore an unreasonable waste to destroy the precious, irreplaceable material.

 

Milton Fine couldn't help considering ironic the ship's decision against his physical elimination. It was, more than anything else, a proof that they were alive. Artificial life form they may have been, but it was life. The reason for the creation of the Construct was the eventual release of Zod, but the machine was alive. All that lives strives to keep living.

 

He didn't have time to ponder on the meaning of life, because the ship's decision to preserve his physical form meant not only the formatting of his personality, but Dawn's death. As long as the girl was there, the ship was losing control over the corrupted version. The instructions were sent to the functional specimen to kill her.

 

Milton Fine was aware of the instructions that compelled his "twin" to kill Dawn, but there was nothing he could do to stop it, he couldn't even warn her. He sent a direct data stream to the Other, feeding him all the remnants of his individuality. The security protocols were too severe, Dawn's physical and energy interference had been too brief to change him significantly, but it created enough of a crack in its defences to allow Fine's feelings to have some influence. The Other found himself unable to carry out his instructions. He retreated, locking them inside the room.

 

The last thing Fine saw through the Other's eyes was Dawn, on her knees, next to the table, sliding despondently to the floor. He resumed his efforts to break through break the cyber-muzzle, but once she stopped touching him, the progress became slower and slower.

 

All of a sudden, the external stimuli resumed. Dawn was probably touching him again. It was enough to help him slip through a few more locks. He decided to use his severely limited freedom and his dwindling resources to send out a brief audible message to let Dawn know that it was working. The change had begun after they had had sex. A few kisses and touches had managed to break through the Other's security protocols. He concentrated all in three words.

 

"Touch. Sex. Life."

 

He had no way of knowing whether the words had made it out, in the range of human hearing. He resumed his efforts to saw through his chains. The progress was infinitesimal. She must have heard him because the locks were beginning to fall. The walls were crumbing. His own attempts had been like a summer's breeze, Dawn's touches were having the effect of hurricane. Soon, he started to feel her.

 

He felt her lips on his skin. How appropriate that they were over his heart! Even if biologically there was no heart, symbolically, it was there, and it had only beaten for her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ Dawn's POV ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

She had felt the thrumming of life coming back into the body, but the sound of his voice made her heart explode with joy.

 

"Touch. Sex. Life."

 

She smiled as she went on kissing him with renewed energy. Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time they were caused by hope, not despair. Dawn had thought quite a lot about the incredible transformation that brought such a strange love into her already strange life. Their interaction had changed his very essence. There was so much about her original nature she was not aware of, but, for once, her Key-ness was the cause of something good.

 

His encouragement wiped away any awkwardness she had been feeling about kissing a lifeless body. His skin was growing warmer, and Dawn built up the courage to unbutton his shirt. She had never been shy when it came to sex ever since she met him, but this time it had been so different. Unpleasant thoughts kept swirling in her mind. Concepts like taking advantage, necrophilia, date rape were all human and therefore not applicable to either of them, but they all preyed on her mind until his words cut through the veil of dark illusions. His message was pretty damn clear. She could bring him back by touching him. Touching him in a sexual way.

 

She traced hesitantly paths with her fingertips, sprinkling kisses over his still chest. She had grown accustomed with the thumping of his heart, even after she learned it was an illusion. Ever since she discovered her origin, and that her first memories were only lies, Dawn's only way to cope had been to live for what she felt at the moment, for the people she loved and who loved her back. After Sunnydale disappeared off the face of the Earth, engulfing her fake past and all those she had loved and lost, Dawn decided to live for her sister. She had enrolled into college to offer Buffy the illusion of normality. Falling in love with Milton Fine was the first real feeling she had. Her love for Buffy was part of the monks' design for her. They were more than sisters, they were part of one another, and that gave their relationship the nuance of unreality.

 

"I love you," she whispered, mingling tears and saliva over his skin, knowing instinctively that she needed to do everything in her power to reach him, to help him break free. "I love how you pretend to have a heart just so I can hear it beat as fast as mine."

 

Her fingers were trembling violently when she reached the last button. It took her a few attempts to undo it. Although it was not the first time she saw it, Dawn drew in a sharp breath at the sight that waited for her when she pushed the shirt aside. She hadn't had much chance to see Spike shirtless, but from the peeks she managed to sneak in her impressionable teenage years, Dawn was imprinted with a particular fondness for a well toned abdomen.

 

"Good choice, keeping the washboard abs," she murmured while she trailed her hands over his torso. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

 

Dawn lowered her head kissing her way across his chest and down his abdomen. She hesitated reaching for his belt buckle. He had said "sex", but damn this felt weird.

 

"It's not that I don't want to unwrap the package, but I'd feel better with less clothes on," she said.

 

She shed her jacket, pulled her blouse over her head and unhooked her bra. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage for some direct action. She caressed lazily the front of his trousers. She sighed, missing the lack of his usual, enthusiastic reaction to such touches.

 

"Right then. Touch – sex – life, huh? Here goes."

 

She climbed on the table, straddling his hips, and resumed kissing him. She bent over, pressing her body against him while she brushed her lips against his, flicked her tongue over them, traced their contour, and bit his lower lip softly before abandoning his mouth in favour of his earlobe. She nibbled and licked, whispering random naughty words in his ear, nuzzled into his neck, alternated soft and rough bites along his shoulder, then crawled on her hands and knees inch by inch down his body.

 

She was tracing with his washboard abs with her tongue when she felt the twitch against her chest. She let out a moan of relief and arousal at this unequivocal proof of life. She pressed her breasts harder, rubbing herself against his hardening flesh, positively purring at the flattering response. He was getting bigger and harder, and soon Dawn sneaked a hand between their bodies. She felt the length and fullness of his shaft through the fabric of his trousers.

 

His skin felt warmer against her cheek, or maybe her burning cheeks were warming him up from the outside. Dawn let out an unladylike growl of frustration at the absence of contact when she stood up on her knees to undo his trousers. As soon as the belt was unbuckled and the zipper was down, she lowered her head again. She kissed and licked the skin around his navel while her fist stroked him harder.

 

Her mouth replaced her hand. She did all the things she knew that were driving him crazy. She was putting so much attention into this that she didn't notice his arms moving until she felt his hands on her head, caressing and entangling her hair. She glanced up startled. He was looking at her. She drowned in his eyes as she did every time, from the first time she dared to hold his gaze.

 

"Fuck me," he said.

 

His voice was faint, his expression so amazed that Dawn wondered if it was a request or just an exclamation of surprise.

 

"Say please," she teased.

 

"Please," he whispered.

 

His voice was so thick with lust it made her grow unbearably wet and hot. She advanced on her hands and knees until her head was at the level with his, and his hardness, dripping with her saliva was poking into her panties. He slid his hands from her head down her sides until they rested not very lightly on her hips.

 

"Please," he said again.

 

This time there was no trace of weakness in his tone. The word was a command that had to be obeyed. Dawn shivered, melted, but did not hesitate. She pushed her panties aside and guided his stiff cock inside her. She tried to hold his gaze while she impaled herself on him, but the sensations soon became overwhelming. The feel of him inside her, thick and hard, his vielike grip on her waist and the noises he was making, halfway between purring and grunting, everything worked together, pushing her towards the peaks of an orgasm.

 

The constant practice had synchronized their bodies to such an extent that soaring from the depths of their despair, they reached an explosive, simultaneous orgasm in a matter of minutes.

 

~~~~~~~~~~ Milton Fine's POV ~~~~~~~~~~

 

Just as he had assumed, the energy released at the moment of their orgasm broke through all the chains the ship had put on him. He sat up abruptly and wrapped his arms around her. The sensation of the young woman shaking in his embrace in the aftershocks of her orgasm swept through his systems like wildfire.

 

"I love you," he whispered against her ear.

 

She wrapped her arms desperately around him and held him tight while her body still trembled, coming down gently from the heights of ultimate pleasure.

 

"You're alive! God, you're alive," she exclaimed between soft moans.

 

"You brought me back."

 

The surveillance was constant and no longer concealed, but it was apparent that the ship no longer possessed the ability to control him. Short of his physical destruction, there was nothing they could do to him. The Braniac's decision came into the apostate's consciousness. He checked for traces of deceit. Finding none, he told Dawn.

 

"If we leave this dimension, we won't be harmed."

 

She pulled a little way away from his embrace, just enough that she could look him in the eye.

 

"Then, we leave. You know what I talked about with Giles?"

 

"Yes. Do you think he can and will erase all memories of you?" he asked, caressing her back softly, aware that her choice was kind to the others, not to herself.

 

"I think he can. Not so sure if he would. I really wish he would."

 

He kissed her temple with all the tenderness he could project. He rocked her gently, trying to soothe the pain he knew she must feel. She was human, and yet not human. Real, and yet not real.

 

"I can help. It can help, too. It would be very convenient if no one else knew about you. About us. Are you sure you want them to forget you ever existed?"

 

He felt her shiver, but when she spoke, there was no hesitation in her voice.

 

"Yes. Buffy lost so many people she loved. I'd rather she doesn't remember losing me, too. Even if that means she doesn't remember I ever existed. Besides, this body only existed to get her protection. She was never supposed to have me to take care of and to love."

 

Tears slid down her cheeks. He kissed her face and her eyes, making her tears his own. She only needed him. Just as he needed only her. Such a strange concept, love. Didn't need glands, hormones, not even a soul.

 

"I'll take care of you and love you. For ever and ever."

 

"Yes. For ever and ever," she said smiling at him. "Make love to me. I know you can."

 

There was no need to pretend he needed time to recover from the previous exertion. He didn't need to keep up all the pretences of humanity. He created the illusion of a heart beating madly in his chest while he swivelled his legs off the table. He stood up slowly, giving her time to wrap her legs around him. He pretended to be embarrassed when his pants fell around his ankles. Dawn let out a crystalline giggle, and kissed his forehead, his nose and then his mouth while she threaded her fingers through his hair.

 

He set her on the edge of the table. He was looking into her eyes while he changed the size of his cock. He had stayed hard, and buried to the hilt inside her throughout their conversation. Now he grew thicker, stretching her from the inside, filling her more than he ever had before.

 

"OH MY GOD!" she exclaimed, her eyes widened in shock. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" she kept saying, closing her eyes and throwing her head back as he started to move in and out of her.

 

He made her orgasm last for as long as he dared so as her heart wouldn't give way. She was covered in sweat and seemed unable to control her movements once he finished. He let her rest on the table while he looked around the room for the clothes she had thrown earlier. He helped her dress again, smirking at the way she still trembled. He kicked the door open holding her in his arms.

 

"Do you want to talk to any of them? We can leave the others take care of everything."

 

"I want to see my sister. They will be safe, right? I mean, the others won't hurt them once we're gone? Can you promise me that?"

 

He read pain all over her features. He also read determination there. They both knew that if they stayed, the danger to the others would be greater.

 

"It is useful to them that your friends forget. And they're all too interesting to be eliminated. I can't promise you that the ship or General Zod will leave them alone, but it will only be better for them if we're not here."

 

"I know. They're all strong and used to be in danger. I just don't want them to live with the knowledge that they can't protect me."

 

He could understand that. He nodded holding her tight as he took off. 

 

"Let’s fly then, love."

 

He felt her calming down as they flew across the desert. He landed on the doorstep of Buffy's house. He could hear Dawn's sister inside. She was not alone. The Harris boy was in there as well. They were talking about the call they received from Giles. So, they knew some of the truth.

 

He let her stand onto her own feet, but kept her flush to him for a while. Her heartbeat had reached a dangerous rhythm.

 

"You can make them forget? Just like that?" she asked quietly.

 

"Yes."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ Dawn's POV ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

She unlocked the door with her own key. They walked hand in hand inside the house that never had a chance to become a home for Dawn. She let go of his hand only to run into Buffy's arms. Her sister held her tight, not knowing and not caring why she needed comfort, but giving it unconditionally.

 

"I love you, Buffy. Thank you for everything," she whispered, barely able to breathe from the force of the hug she was giving and receiving.

 

Over her sister's shoulder, Dawn saw Xander, looking at them with surprise and apprehension all over his face.

 

"Come here," she called him, and when he approached, hesitant, guessing there had to be a grave reason for Dawn's behaviour.

 

She took an arm off her sister to include Xander in the hug.

 

"I love you so much," she told them, trying to ignore their questions and their mounting fear. "Make them forget. Please," she said, unable to bear the tension any longer.

 

She didn't hear him move, but a split second later Buffy and Xander seemed stunned. She extricated herself from their embrace. She kissed each of them on the cheek. They didn't move.

 

"It will only last for a few seconds," he answered her inquiring gaze.

 

She nodded taking his hand.

 

"I'll be fine. Take care of each other, okay?" she whispered looking at her frozen family.

 

She ran out, dragging her lover by the hand. Once they were outside, he swept her in his arms without slowing down, and took off again. They flew over cities and deserts and oceans in silence. She tried to talk once or twice but there were no words.

 

They landed in the middle of a forest the kind she had only seen in the movies. When she looked past his shoulder, she saw the ship. Black, slick, and clearly not man made.

 

"You brought me to meet your parents?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

 

She was amazed of her own detachment. She knew the pain was waiting to come crushing over her.

 

A man approached them. When he stepped out of the shadows she saw he was wearing the face she loved. She held on to her lover's hand.

 

"It's all done. Everyone who ever knew you, every trace of your passing. All is erased," the Other said, looking in her eyes.

 

She wondered if it was the same one she had kissed earlier. His eyes were expressionless. Almost. There was only the faintest sparkle of emotion. She couldn't help it. Still holding on tight to her lover, she reached her free hand towards the Other one. Her fingertips traced his cheekbone, the arch of his eye, his jaw. He closed his eyes for a moment.

 

"You're free," he whispered.

 

She removed her hand from him, but left the arm outstretched. He put one hand over her wrist, holding it in place. They all knew what was needed to open the portal. She expected his hand to turn into a blade and draw blood. The Other's features started to morph, she heard the bone crunching and she was now staring into Spike's vampire's face. She saw the fangs flash for a brief second before he buried them in her forearm. She felt him suck in some blood before he removed his mouth and stepped away.

 

"They took a sample," he said, confirming her assumption. "Couldn't be helped."

 

"I know. Points for style though," she said, smiling.

 

The portal opened when the drops of blood touched the ground. He put his free hand over her wound, smiling back at her. They were both smiling when they stepped through.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The End

 

Happy New Year!

It's not the last chapter of  "Dawn's Fine" but I hope you will love it. It's my first vid.

The story is: Dawn has a crush on her art teacher, but she doesn't do anything about it, but even years later, she never got over him.

The song - "The Art Teacher" - is from Rufus Wainwright's album "Wanted Two".




The Art Teacher

There I was in uniform
Looking at the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then

He was not that much older than I was
He had taken our class to the Metropolitan Museum
He asked us what our favorite work of art was,
But never could I tell it was him
Oh, I wish I could tell him --
Oh, I wish I could have told him

I looked at the Ruben's and Rembrandt's
I liked the John Singer Sargent's
He told me he liked Turner
Never have I turned since then
No, never have I turned to any other man

All this having been said,
I married an executive company head
All this having been done, a Turner - I own one!
Here I am in this uniformish, pant-suit sort of thing,
Thinking of the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then
No, never have I loved any other man

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

 

Timeline: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

 

Beta: Rachael

 

Feedback greatly appreciated. Please review!

 

Sorry it took so long. I intend to have both this story and "Dawn's Fine" finished by the end of the year.

 

 

Chapter 16

 

 

 

For the first few weeks, Wesley phoned them every day. The deeper he got into the mountains, the less frequently he managed to find a phone, coverage for his cell or electricity to recharge it. Two months after he had left, the phone calls stopped.

 

He began writing Faith long letters, never sending any. The day Wesley found the shaman and he convinced him to lead him to the trial grounds, he wrote the last two letters. The letter to Alex was the most awkward thing he ever wrote, but even so, he couldn't afford to discard it. He was running out of time. He couldn't think of the boy as anything other than his son, and he wanted his son to have something from him.

 

Wesley took a long pause after writing to Alex. He frowned, his gaze lost in the distance wondering if he had the right to insert himself in the boy's life. He put the letter in an envelope, wrote "for Alex" on it, and left it unsealed. It had to be Faith's choice.

 

He took out another sheet of paper, preparing himself for opening his heart again. At least he knew what he had to tell Faith.

 

My darling Faith,

 

Please forgive me for failing you. You have to believe me that I go into the trials with the utmost determination to come back to you. When I left, we both knew that there was a chance that despite my most arduous efforts, I'll die. Again.

 

There are no doubts in my heart and in my mind that I belong by your side. I love you, Faith. I need you to understand that because I love you, I could never accept the second chance you've given me while the fate of your immortal soul remained uncertain. You deserve all I can give you.

 

If you're reading this letter – yes, I had to say it – it means that I did not succeed in the trials. I'll leave this letter with instructions to be sent to you. Time may pass differently over there, so chances are that the trials will last quite a while.

 

You have to know that even if I failed, you and Spike have your souls back. There are no words to express adequately the depth of my gratitude for what you two did for me. The least I could do was bargain my soul for yours. Last week I made a bargain with Wolfram and Hart. If I pass the trials, I have my soul back, and you have yours, no strings attached. If I fail the trials, you get your souls back, and the Senior Partners get mine.

 

Which brings me to the most difficult part of this letter. It must be hard for you to hear this, but as soon as you get this letter you must assume that if I come back, I am an agent of evil. It is not something I advise easily, but, my darling Faith, you have to be prepared to kill me. There are a variety of forms I may appear to you in, so you have to get creative.

 

When the time comes, I'll face my death with one imperative burning in me brighter than anything else. To come back to you. One way or another, I'll find my way back. Please, don't add to my sins by allowing me to harm you.

 

There is a chance, a slim one, but a chance nonetheless, that I come out of the trials victorious after you get this letter. To avoid an unfortunate accident, you should contact a White Coven to give you a way to distinguish whether I am there of my own free will or an agent of evil.

 

I want to be yours, body and soul, of my own free will. This is the reason why I go into the trials confident in victory. I want nothing more than to believe that you'll never read this letter. If you do, I want you to know two things. I love you. And you shouldn't waste the rest of your life waiting for me. I am both jealous and proud that you spent ten years in love with me, because I do believe that whatever your mind created in the cave was a very good replica of me. I'm not saying that you should forget me, in any of the forms you've known me. I'm sure that having our son around will make this impossible in any case. I wish I were there, helping you raise him. I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you.

 

The sun will be setting soon. I have to finish this letter that has no way to contain all the things I wanted to tell you. You know I'm not a man of few words, but I'll have to make do.

 

Please read the other letter and give it to Alex when you think it is appropriate.

 

Thank you for giving me the chance for this new life and new love.

 

Forever yours,

 

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce

 

He put the letters in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote Faith's name. He then proceeded to put it in another envelope along with the letter he had written to Alex, and a short note for Spike.

 

If I show up unexpectedly, give Faith the letters immediately. If I don't show up in a month from the day you received this envelope, give her the letters.

 

W. Wyndham-Pryce

 

On the outer envelope he wrote, William T. B. Pratt, and Faith and Spike's address.

 

Wesley's hand was trembling slightly when he gave the envelope to his guide. He gave the man the necessary instructions. He hoped that the letter was going to reach Spike very soon, and that his trust in the vampire was not misplaced. His first idea was to leave the simple instructions of sending the letter if he did not return to the village in a week or a month, but he had realized that if he failed, he might very well return as a pawn of Wolfram and Hart and take the letter back leaving Faith no warning. 

 

Wesley walked into the trials unarmed and with no provisions. He had only his mind as a weapon and his love as shield.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

To be continued...

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

 

Timeline: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

 

Beta: Rachael

 

Feedback greatly appreciated. Please review!

 

 

 

Chapter 15

 

 

 

"What if the circle doesn't work?" he asked instead.

 

Faith suddenly pulled away from him. Before he could protest or apologize or beg for her to come back, she was next to him, pushing him down on the bed and straddling his lap. Wesley smiled lightheaded with relief. He put his hands on her waist and waited for her to come down to him.

 

Their gazes remained locked while she lowered her head slowly toward him. When their lips finally met, it felt every bit as intense as if it were their first kiss. Wesley closed his eyes and let the perfection of the moment engulf him. He would never regret this. Whatever the result of the quest for his soul, he couldn't possibly regret that he had been blessed with the chance to feel something so beautiful.

 

 

Wesley put his fingertips on Faith's temples, then slid his fingers up into her hair. The thick silky curtain fell around their faces, isolating them from the world as effectively as the protective circle on the floor.

 

They were still kissing when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his chest. The feel of her breasts rubbing against his skin was absolutely delicious. He put his other arm around her, pressing her into him.

 

Delicious and wonderful as the sensation was, Wesley was not satisfied with the position. Beyond his personal taste for being on top, he was well aware of her preference to ride. He wondered, not for the first time since he found out about his dark twin, how did Faith act around that man. He smiled thinking that if she knew him at all, and she must have from all the things she read about him, his twin must have had the same preferences.

 

He sat up straight, pushing Faith's torso up along with him. She gasped, startled by the movement but didn't fight him, only clung to his shoulders. Wesley groaned and let out a string of highly undignified curses at the pain. His body had been healed by the Mohra blood, but he still suffered the aftereffects of the injuries. He was also groaning at the exquisite feel of his hardness rubbing against Faith.

 

She was still straddling his thighs, while he leaned back into the kiss. He startled when he felt her hand sneaking between their bodies and wrap tightly around his erection.

 

"Naughty," he whispered.

 

"Eager," she corrected. "Checking to see if you were still willing and able," she said.

 

"Very much so. With one condition."

 

He pushed his upper body forward, making her bend over backwards. His arms supported her back while his head was buried in her breasts.

 

"What condition?" she asked, breathless.

 

His mouth was too busy sucking on her breast to answer. His mumbling sent vibrations over her skin, causing Faith to shudder. He sucked on her nipple harder, making Faith arch her chest into his mouth, and letting her head back, almost out of the circle, her hair flowing almost to the floor. She seemed to forget her question for a while.

 

Wesley put both hands firmly on her waist, and stood up. Faith yelped in surprise, her head snapped up, but she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. His fingers were digging almost painfully in her flesh, while she was holding on to him, arms around his shoulders, ankles locked behind him.

 

"The condition is," he said, beginning to turn to face the bed, "that I get to be on top," he finished.

 

As he spoke, he lowered her onto the bed as slowly as he could, but still not smoothly enough. She chuckled at the slightly awkward landing, but the expression soon became softer.

 

"Whatever rocks your world," she said.

 

Wesley marveled at her smile. She looked young and innocent.

 

"You think that's funny, sweetheart?" he asked, faking as serious a tone as he was capable.

 

"Shut up and kiss me," Faith said in a throaty voice that sent shivers through Wesley.

 

He felt the importance of the moment shatter the brief levity. They were really going to do this. They were tied to each other in so many ways, on so many strange levels, that there was no predicting what would happen when they physically came together. Their past, their souls, their son. Son!

"Faith, this may not be the best moment to bring this up, but do you think we should use some protection?"

 

"Are you trying to ruin the mood?" she asked, lifting herself on her elbows, pushing her chest into his.

 

Wesley coaxed her back to the mattress with a few well placed kisses and caresses.

 

"Thought I should ask. I wouldn't mind if Alex had a brother or a sister," he muttered indistinctly with his lips pressed against her neck.

 

"Oh, God, Wes," she whispered. "Not much chance of that, I'm afraid."

 

He lifted his head to look at her.

 

"Why?"

 

"I'm on the pill. After I had Alex... This is ridiculous," she said and looked away from him. "I feel like I had an affair with you for ten years and you don't know the first thing about me."

 

"It wasn't me, Faith. You know that," he said.

 

His voice was soft, as if he could heal her with his words. He caressed her hair, leaning closer to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes.

 

"I know," she whispered, holding him tight as he kissed her. "I guess I'm afraid."

 

He had expected this to come. She may have had feelings for him, once upon a time, a decade ago when he burst out of her subconscious and into a strange reality, she may even have started liking him once resurrected, but love, that she had only felt for the other him.

 

"Can't have that. The Slayer can't be afraid of her Watcher. I'm going to do something about it that used to get Watchers in very deep and life-impairing trouble," he told her, amazed of his ability to hide his anxiety so well that his voice could actually sound playful.

 

"What's that?" she asked.

 

Her tone was lighter. He could still feel her shiver against him, but, ever the warrior, willing to fight her fear.

 

"Oh, it's a very complicated, ancient ritual. It involves dizzying you with kisses," he said, proceeding to demonstrate.

 

"And then?" she barely managed to whisper, much to Wesley's delight.

 

"And then... when you're just about out of breath... "

 

He stopped talking. Wesley kept her prisoner in a long, breathtaking kiss while he positioned himself at her entrance, and began sliding in. He didn't stop when he felt her tensing as if she was about to push him off her. He kept kissing her and sliding inside her as her nails dug into his shoulders. He went on, deeper and deeper in her body and in her heart. He felt his very self melting with her in a way that transcended physical pleasure.

 

Faith moaned when he was completely sheathed inside her, making his heart melt in his chest. He watched emotions play over her face. The anxiety, not completely gone, was pushed aside by joy, desire, pleasure. And maybe, if he could judge from his own experience, maybe love.

 

"Still afraid, my Chosen one?" he asked beginning to move in and out of her.

The pace was still slow, all urgency seemed to have transformed inside him. He was still burning, but he no longer needed to put out the fire. He wanted to kindle the flames even more, so that they'd both be consumed by it.

 

"So much," she answered him. "Afraid so much. Love you so much," she said, slipping the words out between kisses and moans.

 

"I love you too, Faith. I wouldn't be here otherwise," he said.

 

It shocked him to realize it was true. He had said it to be kind, to make the moment perfect, to help her heal from losing a man she had loved for ten years.

 

A few minutes later, they came, together and wordlessly, no longer able to express their passion.

 

There were no more words for the next few hours.

 

~~~~~~~

 

They were lying in each other's arms, tired, but unwilling to fall sleep.

 

"Care to fill me in on the past ten years? Some things that weren't in that nice and very professional file you gave me when I came back?" he asked, caressing her thigh lazily.

 

"Not really. For some reason my mind's not working very well right now," she said, snuggling closer.

 

"Liar," he admonished and slapped her hip playfully.

 

Faith pressed her face into his chest, and peppered a few kisses on his skin before she started talking.

 

"As far as I know, out here, I still can't have children. I started on the pill for him. I was afraid to have another child with someone like him. Alex is a miracle, but I'm still afraid he's not completely human."

 

Wesley pulled her closer, kissing her forehead and caressing her hair.

 

"Whatever he is, he's our son. You have the DNA results to prove it," he said. "I can't help wishing I was more involved in conceiving him," he added with a smile.

 

He felt her relax a little, so he kept caressing her, and talking to her, trying to soothe her worries, partly to lay his own fears to rest.

 

"We'll deal with everything when I come back. You'll see, everything is going to be fine. We'll talk to Alex together. Explain him about his miraculous conception. He's an amazing kid. He will understand. And if it's in the cards, we'll have more children. If not, we'll always have a bunch of Slayers to raise."

 

"If you still love me when you get your soul back," she said.

 

"Can't imagine not loving you," he told her.

"I can. You, he didn't always love me. Every time I went in that cave, it was different. The first time, he was like you were when I last saw you in L.A., after Angelus and the Beast. But sometimes you were young like in Sunnydale, other times you were depressed and angry and you hated me. Then there were times when you were the rogue demon hunter, or the man who kept a slave girl in his closet, or... It was never the same, and yet it was always you."

 

Wesley listened to her in silence. That was not the way he imagined it. He thought his likeness in the cave had been created by Faith's subconscious, and then evolved from one visit to the next. He imagined her having something close to a real relationship. What Faith said worried him a little. He could compete with one of him, but with a whole cast of his copies?

 

"I'll never hate you. This much I know," he assured her.

 

She clung to him tightly.

 

"You be sure to come back. The rest, you're right, the rest we'll deal with when you come back."

 

 

 

~~~~~~~

 

Sometime later...

 

 

Wes went to the kitchen desperate for a tea, not sure if it was night or day. When he was at the door he heard the noise of china and tensed up. He had no weapons, and no time to get any.

 

"Come on in. Tea's ready."

 

Spike's voice. Wesley entered the kitchen wondering if it hadn't been better to have been some demonic intruder. He sat down at the table watching the vampire pouring him a cup of tea.

 

"Thanks," Wesley said.

 

"My pleasure," Spike answered with a grin.

 

Wesley cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. Why the hell could the vampire be grinning about? He hadn't managed to shower, so Spike was probably amused by the mixed scent. Could there be anything else? Wesley's mind was too clouded to make much headway.

 

He tried to ignore the neon bright grin under the neon bright hair, but found it impossible.

 

"What is it?"

 

Spike wriggled his eyebrows, and his smile took on a more worrying nuance.

 

"As the Yanks put it, you got game!" the vampire said.

 

"No. No, no, no," Wesley said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "No, you didn't. Tell me you didn't."

 

"It was quite a performance. I don't know if I want to shag you or her right now."

 

"Jesus!" Wesley exclaimed. "Why the hell didn't you call to tell us the circle wasn't working? That was the deal."

 

"First of all, it worked for a while," Spike said, and sobered up a little. "Felt like she was gone, in that damn cave again."

 

"But it stopped working," Wesley completed his sentence.

 

Spike looked him with an indecipherable expression before he spoke again.

 

"What did you expect? It was like trying to cover a nuclear blast with a paper bag. I knew that whatever you two shared was strong, but that..."

 

"Yes. That was..." Wesley agreed, equally lost for words. "I love her, you know."

 

Spike nodded. Wesley wondered how much the vampire had felt.

 

"I want to do the right thing. By both of you. I need to get my soul back."

 

"And you want Spike to tell you all about it?" Spike asked wryly.

 

"Yes, please," Wesley played along.

 

The vampire chuckled, pleased. Wesley had the strange and aberrant sensation that the man in front of him was in fact in his mid twenties.

 

Wesley listened attentively to Spike's tale of how he got his soul back. It didn't sound like a day in the park, but not impossible.

 

"Thank you," Wesley said, when the story was over and the vampire stood up to leave. "And, Spike," Wesley stopped him, "Thank you for not calling."

 

"Anytime, mate."

 

 

 

~~~~~~~

 

 

There wasn't much left to say. In the cold morning light, Faith and Wesley said their goodbyes.

 

"I love you."

 

"Come back."

 

"I'll come back."

 

"I love you."

 

"Do you always have to have the last word?"

 

"Do you?"

 

"I..."

 

She silenced him with a kiss.

 

He would be back, Wesley told himself to keep his heart from breaking as he drove away. He would come back from the dead for her.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

To be continued...

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. As far as I know, Dawn Summers and all things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon, and Milton Fine belongs to the creators of the Superman comics, and Warner Bros and whoever else owns "Smallville".

Timeline – after "Hypnotic", around the time of "Oracle" and "Vessel"(Smallville), post Chosen (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer), post NFA (Angel)

Beta: Rachael

 

Chapter 18

 

 

 

 

Dawn couldn't say how she knew, but she knew it wasn't him. The physical resemblance was, of course, perfect. The face, the voice, the feel of his body against hers, everything was identical. She could not therefore explain why she didn't feel the arousal she had felt constantly all throughout the previous week.

 

He had told her that being with her changed him, gave him self awareness. Dawn realized that she had changed as well. She had a different perception of the world. Her thoughts seemed to form faster and faster. She was able to make unexpected connections. It felt as if a veil had been lifted off her eyes. No, off all of her senses.

 

She managed to finally formulate her hypothesis when he took her hand upon entering the building. All the information Fine had given her, together with the recent events, came together, leading to a dark conclusion.

 

Why would he bring her here, or anywhere on Earth for that matter, when he was well aware that they couldn't hide for the others? Because he was one of the others.

 

She decided to test her theory, knowing that if her worst fear was to be captured by them, their worst fear must be that she'd infect another part of the Brain Interactive Construct.

 

"They're going to find us, aren't they? I'm so afraid. Hold me. Please."

 

If he were her real lover he'd tell her the truth. He'd hold her in his arms very tight and he'd admit that they were going to be discovered.

 

The man acted up the first part, but stopped short of saying anything. She sighed, desperately wishing to be wrong. Apparently her newly awakened awareness wouldn't allow her to deceive herself.

 

She continued her test with a kiss. It reminded her of the first time they kissed, only a few short, intense, happy months earlier. She was vaguely aroused, but it was not the same. He was holding back more than her real lover. He must be terrified that she'd change him, that she would infect him, too.

 

His mouth felt almost as good as her lover's, but not perfectly like his. God, what had they done to him? The dark fear that he was already destroyed, the horrific suspicion that she might actually be in the arms of the very man she loved, but that his personality, his identity had been erased frightened her.

 

There was one last test.

 

"Make love to me. They can find us at any minute. You said my energy signature is unique. If we're going to die anyway... Please. Make love to me one last time."

 

She felt him hesitate, and the tenderness in his touch, the warmth of his voice as he denied her solace almost broke her. Still, she couldn't allow herself be deceived.

 

"Dawn, luv, this is neither the time or the place to do this."

 

He had even used Spike's accent. The poor bastard must be desperate. She decided to call him on it.

 

"I guess I have my answer. Take me to him. I know it, I can feel it. You haven't destroyed him yet."

 

Milton Fine didn't move or speak for a while. She saw his lips tremble for a split second as if to form words, but didn't say anything.

 

"You need some more convincing, don't you?" Dawn whispered.

 

She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her. She was counting on this exemplary being as unable to resist her as the first one seemed to be from the very beginning. She was proven correct when the man deepened the kiss. It felt good, although not as good as her man made her feel.

 

"Take me to him, or I'll turn you."

 

Dawn groaned inwardly at the inadvertent vampire reference. She kept running her fingers over his chest, then casually began unbuttoning his shirt. The man gripped her wrists, stopping her.

 

"Please," she whispered, bowing her head to rub her cheek over the fabric of his shirt, conscientiously rubbing her cheekbone over one hardening nipple.

 

His grip on her wrists became painful, causing Dawn to shiver in mingled fear and arousal. She had seen what Fine's hands could turn into, so it wasn't a stretch of the imagination to picture him doing an Edward Scissorhands impression.

 

"It's either him or you," she threatened, grinding her hips against his, betting her life and her love on this bluff.

 

He pushed her hard against the wall, pinned her hands up above her head and pressed his body into hers. He put one hand over both her wrists, while the other started traveling down, along her arm, then slid over her side and hip, and stopped on the small of her back.

 

"Maybe I want it to be me," he said.

 

Dawn trembled at his words, his tone, the hardness bulging at the front of his trousers. He broke eye contact to lower his mouth down on her neck. She fought for sanity when he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He was having an effect on her. He was supposed to be the one shaking, melting, breaking down, not her.

 

"You can't want that," Dawn said, trying to win back her man. "Being human is a fatal disease, and it hurts. You can ask him if you don't believe me," she added, in the mad hope that they were all in contact with each other.

 

He wasn't answering. His mouth continued the relentless exploration of her neck

 

"You think you want me now? Stick around for a while and you'll see what want is," she said.

 

She managed to get the words out before his ministrations began clouding her mind. She could no longer speak. She could no longer hold back the tears because she knew what want was. His touches were making her want her lover back so much it hurt.

 

The Other stepped away from her. There was a strange expression on his face as he looked at her. Desire, fear, awe, mixed into one. He wiped away her tears, so gently that Dawn could almost believe it was Him. He looked amazed at his fingertips, shining, covered in the salty, wet, all too human discharge. He laced his fingers though hers and started to walk down the corridor, pulling her after him.

 

Dawn's heart hitched in her throat at the sight that awaited her behind the door he opened. She couldn't help instinctively gripping the impostor's hand tighter when she saw her lover motionless on the autopsy table. The room obviously hadn't been used in many years, if ever, but she could not mistake a morgue for anything else.

 

"He's not dead, is he?" she asked, her gaze never leaving her lover's still body.

 

"He wasn't all that alive to begin with," the duplicate said.

 

Dawn let go of his hand to walk to the table. She hoped that there was some truth to fairy tales. Vampires were real, after all. Aliens were real. Who was to say that she couldn't wake her sleeping lover with a kiss?

 

She looked at his beautiful face, frozen in such an innocent, almost angelic masque. She brushed her fingers over his cheekbones. Not razor-sharp as Spike's always seemed to be, but sweetened by age and lack of disdainful smirking. Her palms cupped his cheeks, wanting to feel the first sign of life, if one appeared.

 

"I love you," she whispered.

 

She lowered her head, pausing for a second before her lips touched his. This had to work. She'd die if it didn't. She'd crumple to the floor. She'd turn to dust like she had seen so many vampires do at her sister's hands.

 

His lips were as smooth as always, but cold, alien, dead. No muscle twitched on his face. His eyelids didn't flutter. No illusion of blood flowing through just as illusory veins warmed his skin. He remained dead and unmoving.

 

She slid one hand off his cheek, pressing her palm and her fingers lightly on his neck, despite being aware that it was silly to hope for a pulse. Whatever was her origin, Dawn had been human for as long as she could remember. It was only natural for her to check for a pulse, to want to feel his skin warming up, or any other exterior signs of his awakening. She could not sense if his software was rebooted or not. She could not feel if the locks of the firewalls keeping him in purgatory were slipping open or not.

 

She went on kissing his cold lips, tears beginning to flow freely on her cheeks.

 

"Wake up, baby. Come back! Come back to me, damn you!"

 

She got the words out between kisses and sobs. Her hands were now fisted in his shirt, clutching the fabric desperately, as if she could shake him awake.

 

Dawn startled when she heard the door behind her slamming shut. She heard it being locked, and she fell to her knees next to the table. She reached to take one of his hands off the table. She held it in her palms, pressing her face against it, bathing it in tears and covering it with kisses.

 

All was lost. She couldn't reach him. She had been wrong.

 

"I love you," she said again to the cold room.

 

At least, they'd die together.

 

While she was tumbling down into deepest despair, a thought struck her. If she had failed, why had the Other left the room and locked the door.

 

Dawn jumped to her feet, mad, wild hope coursing through her like electricity. She bowed her head again over the sleeping man, and kissed him once more. She felt the change before any of her five senses could alert her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

To be continued...

 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

 

 

Timeline: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

 

Beta: Rachael

 

A very special thanks to jossversejunky, who helped me get the chapter going  with some inspired bit of RPing.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

 

 

Wesley kept her pasted to the wall, not allowing her to move except for the minimal assistance necessary in the smooth removal of her clothes. He was now on his knees in front of her, still holding the last piece of clothing he had taken off. He looked at the sock in his right hand, somehow regretting he had to let it drop to the floor. He held her ankle in his left hand, unwilling to let her foot down. He felt the shiver run through Faith as he ran his fingers along her calf. For some strange reason he couldn't bring himself to look up at her. His beautiful, naked, eager goddess.

 

She ran her fingers through his hair. There was a feel of inevitability to the touch. Any second now, she was going to make him look at her. She was going to say something, anything would do, and he would have to look up. If he looked up, she wouldn't be there, because this couldn't be real. Nothing that felt like this could be real. If he looked up, she would vanish, leaving him clutching at thin air.

 

"Oh, God, Wes," she whispered.

 

There it was, her voice, throaty, needing him, wanting him. Like pouring gasoline on a roaring fire. When he led her foot toward the floor his nails dug into her ankle, causing her to let out a soft yelp and clutch at his hair. He lowered his head, relishing the pain as his hair was pulled out of her fists. He bowed his head lower, all the way to the ground to kiss the half moon marks he had left on her skin.

 

'This isn't me. This isn't me! This isn't me!' he wanted to scream. He didn't. It felt too bloody right to spoil. Even for the sake of the almighty truth.

 

He started to kiss his way up her leg. He still couldn't look up. He kissed his way up blindly, waiting for her touch, waiting to be high enough so her fingers would touch his head again.

 

"Mm, Wes..." she said, almost purring

 

"Christ, this has got to be real," he whispered, pressing a side of his face into her belly while her hands were roaming through his hair and along the back of his neck. He ran his hands along her sides, not daring to venture again over her breasts.

 

When she moaned his name, her body seemed to vibrate, calling for him. He was so tempted to nudge her legs further apart to taste her before opening his eyes. He knew that he could make the fantasy last longer if he just didn't try to see her eyes.

 

He looked up at her. She was still there, her eyes, mercifully closed, her mouth forming his name, in so soft a whisper he could barely hear it. She wanted him. She wanted more. He wanted more.

 

He stood up abruptly, pressing his body into hers. She gasped wrapping her arms around him instinctively. It felt oddly right to be fully clothed, while she was naked, and all the more vulnerable for it, her soft skin finding only coarse fabric, making her relish even more the feel of his hands, smooth by comparison.

 

Her fingers were playing with the hair at the back of his head, and she started to nuzzle into his neck. Her lips felt soft and warm against his skin. She hadn't chosen the scarred side of his neck. His brain managed to work out that she probably didn't want him to see her as a copycat of Lilah's. Wolfram and Hart had tremendous details in their files. Faith must have studied them enough in the years he had been out of her life. He growled uncontrollably when she found a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.

 

"Please," she whispered.

 

It was so tempting to undo his trousers freeing himself just enough to take her like that, against the wall.

 

"Please."

 

He suddenly needed to see the want in her eyes. Eyes. Windows to the soul. The soul. Spike!

 

"She's a part of me. I can feel almost everything she feels. It doesn't work all that well the other way round, but it still made us conduct out 'recreational activities' as far from one another as possible."

 

The memory of Spike's words startled him to some degree of lucidity.

 

He pulled her head roughly away from his neck. God, how he loved having her silky hair in his fist! He almost lost it again when she looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. Eager? Frustrated? Desperate for release? He hoped she was, because he was teetering on the edge of it all.

 

He had to focus on her eyes, to get the words out. The sharp pain and the momentary decrease in the intensity of his touches were probably drawing her out of the lust haze.

 

"Spike, can probably feel this even if he were in Alaska! I can whip up a barrier to shield us. Temporarily. I'm pretty far gone not to care, but if you want privacy, I'll try to do something about your connection."

 

He couldn't believe he had managed to get all the words out. He braced himself against the urge to lower his mouth to her breasts. She needed a little respite to make her choice and answer him.

 

"Privacy," she said.

 

He grinned with mingled approval and frustration at her choice. Frustration for postponing their release. Approval because the barrier would give them the leisure to explore each other thoroughly. Before he left. Not a good time to think about that.

 

He threaded his fingers through her hair, looking in her eyes, unwilling to tear himself from her, but at least trying not to go any further. Despite himself, Wesley drew his head nearer to her, until their lips were almost touching again.

 

"You should call his cell. If I'm successful, he's going to worry when he doesn't feel you," he gritted his teeth a little when he said that, hating to admit the existence of such a powerful bond between Faith and her vampire. "We wouldn't want him to hurry home to see what happened, would we?"

 

Faith moved her head the half inch that still separated them. He didn't find the strength to break the kiss again. She had to push him away a few minutes later.

 

"The barrier. Please," she said, panting.

 

"Wicked girl," Wesley said, but he disentangled himself from her embrace, not before running his fingers briefly across her inner thigh.

 

Faith startled, letting out a soft whimper that made him smile satisfied. Wesley went to the bed to get a sheet to drape around her. He couldn't leave the room with the image of her naked body, flushed with desire. He hurried out, but before he closed the door behind him, he turned around.

 

"I shouldn't be too long, but if I'm not back in a few minutes, don't start without me."

 

He felt the door yanked out of his hand, and found himself again in Faith's arms. She kissed him fiercely before pushing him away and slamming the door shut.

 

"Hurry up!" she told him through the closed door.

 

Wesley made his way into the office in a daze. He was sexually aroused, but this fact in itself was not unprecedented. It was Faith's reactions, the intensity of her desire that were bewildering. He wondered briefly what her conversation with Spike might sound like. From what the vampire had said, they had never had to deal with this sort of situation, so presumably they didn't have a code phrase for it.

 

He laughed when he saw his hands were trembling as he took some books off the shelves. He flipped through the pages as fast as his blurred vision allowed. Wesley found it highly amusing that he was forced into an intellectual activity while his blood was now routed away from his brain. He was opening a second book when Faith came in the office, still wrapped in the white sheet.

 

"He said he nearly drove the car into a ditch when we started," she answered Wesley's raised eyebrow.

 

"Hmm," he said, returning his eyes to the book, faking disinterest. "When do you think that was?" he asked.

 

"Oh, I'd think around the time you first kissed me, tore off my shirt and started playing with my breasts," she said, matching his tone in fake indifference while she perched herself casually on the desk, next to the book.

 

The letters were doing a mad jig on the page in front of him, but he refused to show her the full measure of the effect her words were having on him.

 

"What else did he say?" he asked, without looking away from his book while groping absentmindedly for a corner of the sheet and tugging at it once he found it.

 

"Umm, he said... that... you should... either... hurry up... with the barrier... or get... the job... done... sooon."

 

Wesley kept his fingers busy on and between her legs, and his face straight all along Faith's broken recounting of her conversation with Spike. She could barely get the words out, but never drew away from his touch or asked him to stop. His caresses had been feather light over her knees, her thighs, then they had gotten more and more daring with every hitched breath she let out. He had just taken his hand away when she had moaned the last word, sooon.

 

"And do you concur with that?" he asked, amazed of his ability to keep up the appearance of iron self control when he was at breaking point.

 

"You, bastard," Faith said.

 

She stood up and wrapped the sheet tighter around her body.

 

"Give me a damn book!" she demanded.

 

He gave her one of the manuscripts he had not yet looked through, carefully not looking at her, well aware of the danger that rested in catching more than a glimpse of the sheet.

 

"Got it!" he exclaimed ten minutes and two books later.

 

Wesley jumped to his feet and went, book in hand, to the cabinet where they kept most of the magical ingredients.

 

Faith joined him next to the cabinet, the warmth of her body seeping into him, causing the man to close his eyes in an attempt to steady himself.

 

"Here, I'll hold the book," she offered.

 

"Bloody hell," he muttered when he noticed the sheet falling off her shoulder as she reached to take the book from him.

 

He took another look at the page and started to take the necessary spell components doing his best to ignore the flurry of fantasies he suddenly had about the hands holding the book. They both hurried back to her bedroom, Faith still holding the book, and Wesley with an armful of small boxes and bottles.

 

She climbed into bed while Wesley started to draw a circle a couple of feet away.

 

"The bed needs to be inside the circle. Could you please move it away from the wall?" he asked.

 

Faith sighed, got out of bed and pushed the headboard away from the wall with a single hand. He was considering that there were many benefits of having sex with a Slayer when Faith let the sheet fall to the floor, and all lighthearted thoughts melted away in a renewed wave of desire.

 

"This better work," he muttered, reaching for the book to read again the next step.

 

Faith was laying on her belly, holding the book in front oh her, open at the right page. Her demure attitude contrasted beautifully with the glimpse of her chest over the book that made sure he was aware of what was hidden behind the hard covers. Wesley traced the text with his fingers, further and further up until they left the paper and were trailing on her skin. He was tempted to push the book aside and run his palm down on her breast forgetting about the spell for a while.

 

"What's wrong, Wes? You lost your place? Do you want me to read you what you have to do?" she asked, in a sweet tone of false concern.

 

"I want you..." he said, letting his voice trail off while his hand was cupping her face.

 

"Yes?" she encouraged him to go on.

 

"Yes," he agreed rubbing a thumb over her cheek and a corner of her mouth.

 

Faith's voice was low and hesitant as she read aloud the rest of the steps for the creation of a protective circle. Wesley felt as if every whispered word was a caress on his skin. He only barely managed to follow her instructions without making any mistakes. He turned to look at her once he heard the book being slammed shut.

 

"Do you think this comes under the heading of safe sex?" she asked, with a twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes while his hungry gaze was sweeping all over her body.

 

The man didn't answer. He took off his shoes and his shirt letting everything fall inside the circle, then sat on the bed next to her to take off his socks. Before he stood up to take off his pants he took the book that Faith had forgotten on the pillow next to her. He let it drop by the bed when he felt her hands on his back.

 

He couldn't move for several long moments. He heard her crawl behind him on her knees. He felt the bed dip as she moved closer. When she pressed her breasts into his back and circled his torso with her arms, Wesley had to close his eyes. She was kissing his shoulder and neck, stopping for a while on his earlobe, then down again along his neck and shoulder, while her hands were roaming over his chest and abdomen, pausing from time to time to trace one scar or another.

 

'How do I compare so far?' he wanted to ask.

 

"What if the circle doesn't work?" he asked instead.

 

Faith suddenly pulled away from him. Before he could protest or apologize or beg for her to come back, she was next to him, pushing him down on the bed and straddling his lap. Wesley smiled lightheaded with relief. He put his hands on her waist and waited for her to come down to him.

 

Their gazes remained locked while she lowered her head slowly toward him. When their lips finally met, it felt every bit as intense as if it were their first kiss. Wesley closed his eyes and let the perfection of the moment engulf him. He would never regret this. Whatever the result of the quest for his soul, he couldn't possibly regret that he had been blessed with the chance to feel something so beautiful.

 

~~~~~~~

 

To be continued...

 

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. As far as I know, Dawn Summers and all things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon, and Milton Fine belongs to the creators of the Superman comics, and Warner Bros and whoever else owns "Smallville".

 

Sorry about the delay in updating. The words just didn't want to shape the images in my mind.

 

This was a particularly difficult chapter to write. I trust you'll understand what's going on. I did my best to stave off confusion, but...  you'll see what I mean.

 

Timeline – after "Hypnotic", before "Oracle" and "Vessel"(Smallville), post Chosen (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer), post NFA (Angel)

Beta: Rachael – thank you so much for your care and patience!

Chapter 17

 

 

 

He had started the kiss with the intention to retrieve through the exchange of saliva the kryptonite he had accidentally introduced into her body at the restaurant. He could always make her eliminate the nanobots some other way but he had decided that kissing her was the most efficient. He could retrieve the nanobots and reintegrate them instantly into his body, at the same time keeping up the pretense to be a normal man in love.

 

Fine got out of the airport and on the way to his car he programmed the kryptonite inside Dawn to leave her body. Once in the driver's seat, the world seemed to stop.

 

~~~~ ~~~

 

When Milton Fine resumed awareness, his internal clock told him that an hour had passed. Something else was wrong. The secret subroutine was open while he was in contact with the ship. The mainframe had also opened another channel. He was suddenly aware that his subroutine had never been truly secret. That the mainframe had been aware of all the changes as they unfolded in him. That he was trapped in an abandoned bomb shelter in the Nevada desert. That he was incapacitated beyond his ability to escape. That if the mutations in him could not be reversed he was going to be destroyed. The information transfer took a nanosecond.

 

Not even the corrupted version of Milton Fine needed did not need to ask why the recovery process had not started. They wanted to study him further. He was allowed access to data that the mainframe had previously concealed from him. Zod's scheduled arrival was closer than he had been led to believe. The human race was on the brink of being bereft of technology, with all the unpleasant consequences this entailed, in order for Kal-El to play his part in opening the portal for Zod.

 

He tried to take in his surroundings without the use of his optic sensors, which were, like everything else, shut. At the same time, he began testing the limits of his cybernetic chains. He was in a state of suspended animation, the only functions allowed to operate being the higher cognitive ones.

 

He was in contact with the mainframe, but also with the nanobots he still had inside Dawn. Along with the information from his accidental spying device, came another stream of data, from the kryptonite the mainframe had introduced in the girl's body weeks earlier.

 

Useless curiosity made him access the mainframe's memory of the implant. Another anthropomorphic embodiment of the ship, wearing the Milton Fine appearance had visited Dawn's campus when he was in Cleveland. Dawn had noticed him, touched him, and with a changed face, the other body of the mainframe had inserted the sliver in her hand as he removed from his shoulder. Dawn had apologized and thought nothing of the stranger's watch scratching her skin.

 

He made an effort to reprogram the nanbots he had introduced to hunt the second set of nanbots and leave the girl's body. He found his efforts unsurprisingly blocked. He continued to probe at the unseen chains, willing to break them enough to free her from the unwanted, if stealthy invasion of her privacy. While he did so, he listened to her conversation with Rupert Giles. He saw her plan at the same time as the mainframe. She wanted to leave this dimension with him. The understanding gave him the extra-force needed to break through the firewall and reprogram the nanobots.

 

The protocols controlling him became tighter as Dawn was throwing up in Mr. Giles's bathroom, as he had expected they would. He knew it was useless, because she could be traced through the satellite surveillance due to her exceptional energy signature. He wanted to do something for her. He loved her.

 

Dawn's lover allowed himself the use of the term, as flawed as it could apply in his case. He was close enough to termination, either by physical destruction, or the reformation of his personality, that he considered himself entitled to use the word.

 

He was following the events powerless to intervene. He witnessed his duplicate going to Dawn, and telling her a twisted version of the truth.

 

'Don't trust him, Dawn,' he thought, uselessly.

 

He had read-only access to the satellite information. He followed Dawn's aerial journey in the arms of the impostor, all the way to the door of the very facility where he was imprisoned. Of course. They were keeping him immobilized, but unchanged in order to subject him to one last series of experiments. They wanted the study his reactions to whatever happened to Dawn. Maybe even put them in the same room to see how they interact.

 

"They're going to find us, aren't they? I'm so afraid. Hold me. Please."

 

'Dawn. They already found us,' he thought, unable to interfere in anyway in the outside world.

 

His duplicate took her in his arms. They could all sense Dawn's heartbeat accelerate, but her pheromone levels didn't skyrocket. Not yet.

 

'This is as close to torture as we can get,' he addressed the mainframe, neither getting, nor expecting a reply.

 

There was no answer, except for The Other's hands running through Dawn's beautiful, long tresses Dawn's hands were fisted in his hair. She was pulling his head down to her. She was questing for his mouth. If he had had the slightest control over his body, Milton Fine would have grinned on the cold table where he lay still. He had always been comfortable with her commanding attitude when it came to sex, but his evil twin was trying to evade her attempts for fear of being infected with the Dawn-virus.

 

He was, of course, unable to push her away without arousing her suspicions. The ship knew that Dawn knew about the multiple Milton Fine specimens. Also, they just told her that the duplicity of the Milton Fine she had corrupted was known to the ship. So, they had to walk on a tight rope until all the truth was told. Until she was lying on a table next to her imperfect lover.

 

From the way he closed his eyes when she captured his mouth, from the way he trembled when her tongue swirled around his, from the momentary inability to sense anything other than the young woman in his arms, the ship and all its humanoid incarnations could tell that the new model was being corrupted, despite the tighter security protocols.

 

Dawn bit his lower lip playfully when he pulled away from the kiss. She let go of his hair and trailed her hands along his neck, his shoulders, resting her palms on his chest, her right being where the heart would be if a real man would be holding her.

 

"Make love to me. They can find us at any minute. You said my energy signature is unique. If we're going to die anyway... Please. Make love to me one last time."

 

Inside his cybernetic confinement, Milton Fine was laughing. The impostor operated on a medium level of the human behavior simulator, huge parts of his sexual wiring had been removed, the setting of security protocols was so high making the default value he had been operated on seem ridiculously low, and he still couldn't completely resist Dawn's plea.

 

Her hands were clutching at his shirt as she pleaded. He could not see the walls of his cell, but he could see the tears in Dawn's eyes. Through The Other's senses, he could hear her soft, panting breath, as well as feel her heart pounding madly in her chest. He wished he could be there, to hold her, to make her wish come true.

 

"Dawn, luv, this is neither the time or the place to do this," Milton Fine said, cupping her face in his hands, looking soulfully into her eyes. 

 

Dawn stood on tiptoes, tugged at his shirt until she pulled him down to her mouth. He could not fight the overriding commands her touch seemed to send straight to his core. He moaned into her mouth when she sucked at his tongue. With a final effort of lucidity, he pushed her away just a little, enough to break the kiss but not far enough so that she would be out of his arms.

 

"I guess I have my answer. Take me to him. I know it, I can feel it. You haven't destroyed him yet."

 

'DAWN!'

 

The thought came so strongly out of Milton Fine's consciousness that all the human incarnations of the Brainiac shivered, feeling the silent shout like a glitch in their software.

 

She hadn't been fooled. They were still going to die, but she was still only, always, his.

 

'I LOVE YOU, DAWN!'

 

The Other's lips trembled but he managed to keep down the words.

 

He could die now. He would be relieved to die while she was still vibrant, beautiful and his. At the same time, the Dawn-virus had given him a measure of humanity he had not even noticed before. He still had the sliver of a hope. Despite the overwhelming odds, he could still hope that he and Dawn would have their chance to leave this dimension. To have their all too human happily ever after.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

To be continued...

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

 

Timeline: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

 

Beta: Rachael, thank you

 

Feedback: please, comment! 

 

 

Chapter 13

 

 

Wesley woke up feeling rested and thoroughly dirty. The blood he had so liberally shed the previous day had dried on his clothes and on his skin. The wounds were turning to new scars that were itching. He needed to shower very, very badly.

 

As soon as he got into the bathroom, he pulled off his clothes letting them fall in a pile on the floor. He let the warm water work its magic on his battered body. The wounds had fortunately closed, but they were hurting as much as the many bruises. He smiled at the memory of his friends kicking him when he was down. The smile faded as he began to wonder where they were, or if they were still alive.

 

He let his mind drift beginning to soap himself. Out of all the memories of his recent and his distant past, the one person that appeared most often was Faith. And out of all his memories of her, there was one stolen glance that had accompanied him throughout the years. He'd always treasured that image, his dirty little secret, his solace in lonely nights, the fantasy he painted over the casual liaisons. When Faith was seventeen, and in his care, he had accidentally entered the locker room where she was changing her clothes after one of their few training sessions. In his defense, it had been the boys' locker room. The part he could not defend, not even to himself, was that he had stayed hidden and watched her.

 

He started stroking himself as the fantasy began playing again on the screen behind his eyelids. Soon, the teenaged Faith was replaced by the woman who had kissed him two nights earlier. His hand froze on his cock when he realized what he was doing. Thinking of his young Slayer had been, shady as it was, sort of routine. He had thought of the idealized Faith as one would think of a pin up model. This time, it was a real, flesh and blood woman he was fantasizing about. The kiss he had just played in his mind had actually happened. The mere memory of the way her mouth had felt against his caused him to grow harder.

 

Wesley squeezed his eyes tighter and resumed stroking himself. He let his mind unfold an alternative scenario of what happened the other night.

 

His hand slid over the silk of her night robe, then over her silky skin. He dared go further up her inner thigh, all the way up, between her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear. His fingers touched the smooth skin delicately, dipped into the wetness eagerly.

 

"Spread", he whispered aloud. The word resonated strangely in the empty bathroom.

 

Fantasy Faith was sitting on the edge of his bed. She spread her legs, allowing him room to maneuver. She was panting along with him, her little moans spurring him on to bolder and bolder touches.

 

"Come up here, Faith," he told her, shoving the tented sheet aside. He was hard and ready for her.

 

Fantasy Faith obeyed him without a word. Wesley gripped his cock harder imagining Faith impaling herself on him. She began moving up and down his hardness, slowly at first, then faster, and faster. Different faces superimposed briefly over Faith's, like a fast slide show. Buffy, Fred, Virginia, Dawn, Lilah. They all faded, leaving only, always Faith. It's her face he saw while on the rapids of the first orgasm he had in a very long time.

 

"God, Faith!" he rasped spraying the bathroom wall forcefully.

 

He was still shaking while he finished his shower. He rinsed the vestiges of his orgasm off the bathroom wall before he got out.

 

When he arrived in the kitchen, he could barely bring himself to meet Faith's gaze. The shock, however, came from Spike. The vampire was grinning mischievously. When he gave Wesley a wink the Watcher turned a delicate shade of purple. Could Spike somehow still smell what he had just done, even after the shower? Did he hear him? God! If he heard, he must have heard him groan Faith's name as he came.

 

Wesley grabbed a cup of coffee and started piling up food on his plate. He was eating while his mind began to shift into gear. He could understand thinking about Faith as he wanked off. God forgive him, but he'd done it before, when he had been too drunk, or too lonely to keep that particular fantasy behind the iron bars of his will. He could sort of understand the succession of flashes of the women in his past. He didn't like to admit it, but he'd occasionally fantasized about Buffy Summers. No way near as often or as intensely as he had done about Faith, but it had happened. Embarrassing, but explainable. The image he could not understand was that of Dawn Summers. She was about twelve in his fading fake memories, but the woman he'd briefly seen in his fantasy had been older. He had seen her like that only once. Yesterday, in the cave. Spike's last obstacle! His greatest weakness.

 

Wesley looked again at the vampire. This time, there was no embarrassment in his gaze. Only inquiry. What exactly did it mean that he and Faith had given him part of their souls?

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Later that day, Wesley said his goodbyes to the young Slayers, noting with surprise that they had been almost as emotional as they were with Spike.

 

He retired in the main office and started researching the spell Faith and Spike had used to bring him back. He went straight for the very thick "W.W.-Pryce" file. Sure enough, the information was there. He removed the pages concerning the spell. With the papers in his hand he started perusing the library. He pulled out one by one all the books that he thought had anything to do with the spell.

 

For several hours, he was engulfed by his new quest. His feelings for Faith since his resurrection had grown more and more intense with every passing day. They had culminated with this morning's shower. But Faith's revelation on his "dying bed" put everything in a new light. He had to know if what he felt was nothing more than a reflection of her relationship with Spike. The chemistry between them seemed to go beyond sexual attraction, even beyond the mystical bond they shared.

 

As it turned out, the spell wasn’t all that complex. Its consequences, however, were rather immutable. He took off his glasses and started pacing around the office. He had to do something. He couldn't allow Faith and Spike to continue this sacrifice for him. Spike had gotten his soul back somehow. He'd be the one to ask.

 

He looked out the window. It was night already. When had he turned on the lights? He left the office in search of Spike.

 

The building seemed empty. No pitter-patter of little feet. Wesley sighed. He missed Alex. He wished he had had more time with the child. The closest thing he had to a son. He wondered if Faith was ever going to tell the boy about his almost-involvement in his conception. He realized with a sad smile that he wished she would. The thought went further on the idyllic path. Maybe they could give Alex a brother or a sister. He shook his head. No daydreaming for Wesley. He shouldn't lull himself into believing that Faith could feel something for the real him. Who knew how the darkness-created-Wesley had kept her tethered to him for all those years?

 

He couldn't find anyone around. The kitchen, the training area, the yard were all deserted. He made his way upstairs dreading the possibility that he might walk in of Faith and Spike.

 

A light came from beneath Faith's door. He knocked diffidently. She opened the door almost instantly.

 

"Oh, Wes," she said taken aback. "What’s up? Come on in."

 

He followed her, happy to notice that her room retained no traces of the night she had been hurt. There was nothing vulnerable about the beautiful young woman in front of him.

 

"Nothing's up. I was just wondering where everyone was."

 

"Spike's on patrol. And I'm here," she informed him with half a curtsy.

 

The gesture reminded him of the days when she called him Princess Margaret.

 

"How's Alex?" he asked, finding no better topic.

 

"I talked to him an hour ago. He said he's having a good time. Xander said he's behaving himself."

 

Faith's face had lit from inside talking about her son. Wesley felt like he was basking in her smile.

 

"He's a great kid," he said.

 

"Yeah," she said looking at him.

 

"I'll leave you to... whatever it was you were doing," he said heading for the door again.

 

"There's something I have to tell you. Don't turn around, or I won't be able to go through with it," she said behind him.

 

Wesley stood, rooted to the spot. He was watching the door intently, waiting for her to speak again.

 

"I loved him. I know you're not him. Or he wasn't you. The thing is... I think I love you."

 

They both remained silent for a long time. Wesley tried to get under control the storm of feelings her declaration stirred inside him.

 

"I need to leave for a while," he said.

 

He didn't need to hear her sharp intake of breath to know he said something extremely stupid.

 

"I didn't mean," he turned around, trying to explain.

 

"That's all right," she said.

 

Her voice and her countenance were both cool and collected.

 

"Let me explain," he pleaded.

 

"Nothing to explain. You're a free agent. You can do whatever you want."

 

Her distant tone, and her casual words set him off. He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to a wall. She cocked an eyebrow at him, reminding him that she could snap his arms like twigs. He seemed oblivious to the danger. His fingers were digging painfully into her flesh.

 

"But I don't know what I want, do I, Faith? Because I'M NOT REAL!" he yelled at her, the pressure of the last few days cracking his composure.

 

The raw emotion on her face told him he struck a nerve. Utmost among the kaleidoscope of feelings, Wesley saw fear. Her fear emboldened him. He could still get to her, touch her, cut her. Faith looking vulnerable was a greater turn on than he had ever imagined all those times he had imagined her in charge in bed. He felt like a shark who had just sensed blood in the water.

 

He kissed her, hard, not caring if he bruised her. All the cockiness had gone out of her, and this only increased his desire. She moaned faintly, and surrendered to the kiss. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he had torn open Faith's shirt. He lowered his mouth to her breasts. The need to bite her, brand her somehow became desperate. Vampire, his brain whispered, making him pull back.

 

The sight of Faith, bare breasted, glassy eyed and panting made him insane with lust. He gathered forgotten shreds of his self control to take a step back.

 

"See what I mean?" he asked.

 

Faith was looking at him, incomprehensibly. He tried to clear his mind.

 

"I've never felt this way before. Never. About anyone. I feel like I'm burning. This isn't me. This is you and Spike. I'm made up of your souls. I don't know what's real anymore. Do I want you like that? Or is it just the part of Spike's soul that he's given me. I have to go and get back my soul. I want to give you your souls back."

 

"Go where?" she asked in a whisper.

 

The sound of her voice kicked hard at Wesley's libido. He clenched his jaws, refusing to succumb to the tidal wave of lust.

 

"Wherever I have to. Spike managed to get his."

 

"It's dangerous," she said.

 

Wesley shrugged. He'd do the right thing, no matter how dangerous. He needed to know if he was real. If what he was feeling was real.

 

"Did you talk to Spike about this?"

 

"Not yet. I'm going to ask him when he gets back. He wasn't very forthcoming with information on this subject when he made his appearance at Wolfram and Hart."

 

"He's not forthcoming on the subject period."

 

"I daresay he'll talk to me now."

 

Faith was looking at him with deep sorrow.

 

"You don't think I can succeed, do you?" he asked, a little hurt.

 

"It's not that. I never thought about all the consequences of you sharing our souls. I'm wondering if you'll feel the same when you get your soul back."

 

"Worried if I'll feel the same, or if you will?" he asked tensely.

 

Wesley was nearing the breaking point of his control. Since Faith had kissed him he felt like she had lit the fuse to his lust.

 

"You're free, Wes. Truly. We brought you to life because we needed you. You shouldn't feel obligated to even like me."

 

"I like you," he said, stepping close to her again.

 

His eyes were darkened with a desire he seemed unable to control. Faith held his gaze unflinchingly. He leaned over to her. He brushed his lips against hers.

 

"I'm not going to take what you're not willing to give me," she whispered.

 

Wesley pushed his whole body into hers. He put her hand over the bulging front of his trousers.

 

"Willing. Able. Eager," he said, nibbling at her lower lip.

 

She parted her lips for him. His tongue snuck into her mouth at the same time as her hand began rubbing him over the fabric. Wesley fisted a hand in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth. His other hand cupped her breast. He was rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger until she arched into him. When she did, he thrust into her palm.

 

"You'll regret doing this," she said, breathing heavily.

 

"I'll die if I don't," he told her.

 

He stripped every piece of clothing off her body, getting harder with every inch of skin he uncovered, and kissed. He was aware that once he had his soul back, he might not feel the same about her, he might regret yielding to temptation. It didn't stop him. He had never felt such all-consuming lust.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

To be continued...