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as the gentle rain from heaven

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Buffy didn’t even notice until Faith got this look on her face, like Christmas came early and brought chocolate cake. Faith scented the air, obvious, with this smirk that looked like chocolate cake, like something Buffy wanted to eat.

Then Buffy felt something damp running down her leg, and oh. Oh. “I have to go home,” she blurted, face on fire.

“Are you sure?” Faith asked, voice full of sleeze.

Buffy didn’t know what Faith was asking. Did Faith even listen to the kinds of things she said, or did the words just fall out of her mouth, like some kind of Hot Slutty Mama Pez dispenser?

Okay, that was mean. Also, there was a heat low in Buffy’s belly that said she has no right to call anyone a slut right now. “I have to go home,” Buffy repeated, and took off towards the cemetery gate. Her mom would put Buffy in the shower and do her laundry for her while Buffy was too busy making friends with her other Mr. Pointy to care that she smelled like pee. Every O watered the flowers at least once; it was part of the teen experience. All the movies said so. It was fine.

“I’ll come with,” Faith said easily. “Keep you safe from the big bad alphas.”

That wasn’t going to help Buffy’s heat situation at all. “You mean the other big bad alphas?” Buffy asked. She immediately wanted to take it back, but too late - Faith was already preening. Another hot dribble wound down Buffy’s leg and into her shoe.


Buffy slept on top of the school bus with someone’s jacket for a pillow. She wasn’t sure the person it belonged to was even still alive. She balled it up and tucked it under her head, and she closed her eyes against a big wide sky full of stars. Then she closed them tighter against visions of girls dying, towns sinking.

She woke when the bus bounced a little on its shocks, and she sat up, blinking, to see who had decided to crawl up here with her. It was Faith’s silhouette that crept along the roof. “Is something wrong?” Buffy hand was already on her scythe.

“Nah.” Faith settled cross-legged next to Buffy. “You mind if I?”

Buffy caught the glint of a cigarette lighter. Another time she’d have said something about how Slayers needed to keep their health, but that was a joke tonight. A sad, sick one. “It’s fine.” Belatedly, she let go of the scythe. The lighter flared. When Buffy’s night vision returned, the tip of Faith’s cigarette was a bright coal in the near-darkness.

A car passed by on the highway. Someone stirred near the fire. Giles and Willow had walked off into the hills around sunset and hadn’t come back yet, and Buffy wasn’t going to think about what that meant. She wasn’t going to worry about where they were going to put all these girls, who’d had bad recent experiences with enclosed spaces and elected to sleep outside. She wasn’t going to think about Spike.

She sighed and sat back, braced on her hands. Like her body had been waiting for the signal, she felt a sudden, warm rush from between her legs. “Oh, crap.” She sighed again, more heavily, and then she shoved the jacket further up the roof – if the person she’d stolen from was alive, at least it wouldn’t be full of pee when they got it back.

But that was as far as Buffy got. She was too tired to move. Too tired to think, much less wonder if Dawn had thought to throw other-Mr.-Pointy in the overnight bag she’d packed for Buffy while Buffy had been planning tactics.

“You know, they make diapers for that.”

“Not diapers,” Buffy said. She closed her eyes again, sitting there in her pool of pee. Maybe it’d drip over the side. Maybe it’d splash onto someone’s face, pressed up against a window.

Okay, she wasn’t too tired for that to make her face burn. Also it made heat pool in her clit, which confirmed this wasn’t just a sudden bout of incontinence. She squeezed her legs together. The mild pressure just made her want more. “Ugh.”

“There’s a fix for that, too,” Faith said.

Buffy looked over. All she could make out was the glint in Faith’s eye, reflected from the cigarette. “We never did back then, huh.” Because a bunch of girls died back there today, because it seemed like the wrong time for dishonesty, Buffy added, “I was kind of sorry about that. Sometimes.”

Faith did not ask which times Buffy wasn’t sorry.

Buffy blew out a breath. “Yeah, okay.”

She didn’t know what she expected. For Faith to pounce on her, maybe, like the leonine prowler she’d always seemed to be in Buffy’s memory. (In Buffy’s most secret dreams.) What Buffy got instead was the sound of a cigarette being stubbed out on a metal bus roof and a single hand sliding over her thigh. The hand slid between Buffy’s thighs and thumbed at the wet crotch of Buffy’s jeans. Buffy shuddered.

Someone on the ground below moaned in their sleep, and Faith froze. “You want to put on a show for the baby Slayers?”

“They’re not baby Slayers anymore,” Buffy said. “But also, no.” She rose to her feet, grabbed the scythe, and crept to the edge of the roof. A pause to be sure Faith was behind her, and then she jumped over the side.

A little more pee leaked out of her on impact. Oh, well. Maybe she’d be some kind of inspiration to the Os in her ranks. Just because you pee in your shoes doesn’t mean you, too, can’t sink a town.

She headed away from camp. Faith joined her, silent. Their knuckles knocked together, but Faith didn’t try to take her hand. Buffy walked just far enough to be out of sight come morning, behind a hill, but near enough she’d hear screams. “Okay, so…”

It took Faith a moment. Buffy was suddenly, mortifyingly sure that Faith had changed her mind, like that jerk Parker of old. God, she hadn’t even thought of Parker in years. She wondered if he got out of Sunnydale in time.

Then she forgot to wonder, because Faith stepped into her space, her thigh barely brushing the insides of Buffy’s thighs. She pressed her hand to Buffy’s shoulder and leaned in, slow, like she knew what happened to things that approached Buffy suddenly in the dark, and then her lips found Buffy’s.

“Really?” Buffy said against Faith’s mouth. “I didn’t think you’d be into kissing.”

Immediately Faith pulled away, dropping her hand, leaving. Buffy grabbed her and tugged her back in. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Buffy said, and found Faith’s mouth again. Buffy searched it with her tongue, suddenly ravenous with the force of the fire in her gut and five years of guilty daydreams.

Faith’s hand found its way between Buffy’s legs. Buffy groaned, and another wet rush spilled out of her. Faith laughed. No, Faith cackled, triumphant. “You have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for Queen B to piss on me?”

Something in her tone made Buffy stand a little taller, made her grind up against Faith’s thigh, catch Faith’s hand between them. “A freaking long time?”

Faith humming against Buffy’s mouth.

And Buffy liked kissing, don’t get her wrong, but she was over it now. “You want me to really piss on you?” she asked, drawing the S out between her teeth.

“God, yes,” Faith said.

Buffy reached for the button of her jeans, but Faith’s fingers were already there. Between them they wrestled the button out of the button hole, and then Buffy forced the zipper down. Or maybe she broke it, whatever, she didn’t care, because now Faith’s hand was cupping Buffy’s crotch, thumbing her through her panties, and Buffy was about to vibrate out of her skin. “What are you going to do?” Buffy challenged.

“Why don’t I show you,” Faith said. She pressed on Buffy’s shoulders, and Buffy let her. Just this once, she’d let Faith lead. Faith guided her to the ground. She tugged Buffy’s shoes off, then her jeans, and then she pushed her face up between Buffy’s legs like it belonged there.

“Oh my god,” Buffy said.

Faith put her mouth to Buffy and hummed smugly.

“Oh my god.” Buffy pushed into Faith’s mouth, against Faith’s tongue. That pressure in Buffy’s gut built, hot and sudden, and she came just like that, shuddering weakly.

“Hair-trigger,” Faith said against her, the words tickling.

Buffy barely heard her. She felt it coming this time, that weight settling into her bladder; she might have been able to hold it. Instead she reached between her knees and laid her hand on Faith’s head, and she lay back and looked up to the stars and let go. Faith squawked, startled, but she didn’t move away. It kept pouring out of Buffy, a long, slow emptying, a relaxation of all of her, chin to toenails.

“Holy shit,” Faith said, coming up for air. Literally, maybe. Distantly Buffy was aware of Faith standing up and shimmying out of her own jeans. She threw herself down next to Buffy, sprawled her knees, and put her hand between her legs. Soon she came with a hot gasp against Buffy’s ear.

They lay there together, breath heaving. That buoyant confidence from before had left Buffy – poured out of her with the pee, maybe. Now she just felt damp.

Faith stirred. She rolled gently onto Buffy, straddling her, and she bent down to kiss Buffy. She didn’t smell of alpha, even a little. She smelled of Buffy. Her hair was dripping with Buffy, and her mouth tasted of nothing else.

Faith lifted her head. “So?” she asked. Demanded, almost.

It wasn’t only Buffy who’d been feeling her way, here. Buffy scratched at the dirty until she found Faith’s hand, and then she curled her fingers around it. Faith startled above her. Buffy just squeezed, waiting for Faith to let go. She didn’t.

“So that wasn’t bad for a first round,” Buffy said.

“Oh really.”

“Really.” Buffy scooted just a little further down the slope, just a little more under Faith. Buffy didn’t know much – what to do with all the new Slayers, whether Giles or Willow or any of them would recover. But this one thing, here, now, she was certain of. “Why, you think you can wow me in round two?”