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27 [Oct. 14th, 2006|11:54 am]

w_wyndham_pryce
[Current Location |Faith's apartment]
[mood | so very horny]


My pulse is speeding up dangerously. We are definitely going to do a fair bit of role playing later on. I loved it when she called me "Mr. Pryce". It turned me on even more than the sight of the bare ass she so unashamedly displayed, and that's saying something, because all I want is to drop my pants and take her as she stands, bent over at the waist. It's only a tease, of course, and I fully deserve it after what I did to her.

 

"If you’ll follow me."

 

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26 [Oct. 11th, 2006|07:13 am]

wicked_slayage
A soft whimper leaves my chest when Wesley finally slips himself out of me and rolls off to the side. If I was with anyone else, I might have thanked them for a fantasmic time, took a shower and shoved them out of the door, and not necessarily in that order.

I’m not with anyone else though, I’m with Wesley, and that changes the grand scheme of things somehow. Instead, I was happy to feel his arms wrap around me and pull our bodies close.

I close my eyes, basking in the silent afterglow, enjoying the feel of Wesley’s fingers as they caress over my bare flesh. I haven’t felt so relaxed in such a long time…hell I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed, every inch of my body feels like it’s still moving beneath the ghost weight of Wesley’s body. The vague sensation draws up the image of Wesley above me, our bodies colliding over an over, and I let out a soft moan.

“Mm.” I mutter. “I want to do that again, and again, and again, and…” The faintest edges of darkness starts to cloud my mind, and I trail off slightly.

My mind enters that state of half awake and half asleep, and I startle myself awake long enough to whisper, “Don’t leave…”
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25 [Oct. 2nd, 2006|07:53 am]

wicked_slayage
My brain is a puddle of mush. Getting in late from massive slayage with angel and then hours of studying with Wesley didn’t help. Ano-Movic Demons? Blech! Serious, all demons have this air to them, not to mention I’m sure if you chop them up they’d slime you nice and good.

I asked Wesley last night why we couldn’t just get rid of all the demons. He just stared at me. Looking back on it I was probably just tired. Ano-Movic’s are the lesser of the evils; they try their best to look human and aside from "eating the ex-husband of their bride, because eating the ex's brains creates a happy second marriage." I guess they’re decent enough.

Since Wesley didn’t invite me out with him to deal with the demons, and Angel hasn’t called for me to gear up and meet him somewhere, I’m guessing I have the day to myself. It’s a nice change in pace. Some me time.

The very first thing I did? I decided to shove that box from the mayor into the very back of my closet. I want very much to close the door and lock it but I can’t do that yet.

He’s still a part of me, and I still have clothes in there. If I wasn’t afraid of someone getting a hold of the stuff, I would put it in spare room. Prison life has made me extra paranoid, a good thing if I’m going to be a mother…

Ok so maybe I was jumping the gun, especially with the fact that I haven’t had sex in such a long ass time, but yesterday, before going into Evil Incorporated I bought a book. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I didn’t dare take it into the offices with me, I dropped it back off at home and now I was staring at it on my kitchen counter as I sat on the island with a cup of coffee.

I guess secretly the part of me that dealt with the chances of me having kids hadn’t dealt at all. It still wants it. It wants the chance to be a better mom than mine was, to show the world that I’m not doomed, and that there is at least some small part of me that’s good.

Sliding off of the counter, I take a step closer and stare down at it. I can do this. If the Slayer Guide is right, and I’m sure it always is, then I have to do this. Walking over to the book, I pick it up, and carry it out to my favorite spot on the couch with my coffee in the other hand.

I open the book to the contents and read through them. I guess the place to start would be the beginning; Before You Conceive. The very first thing mentioned? Cutting back on coffee.

What the fuck? How the hell am I suppose to get going in the morning? I don’t drink a lot of coffee anyways, but come on, even I need a cup of jo in the mornings. Curling up on the couch I pull the cup of coffee closer, and took a long slow sip, savoring the taste while I can as I settle into the rhythm of the book
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24 [Sep. 30th, 2006|09:48 pm]

w_wyndham_pryce
[Current Location |Wolfram and Hart building, Wesley's office]
[mood | exhausted]

A noise in the outer office startles me awake. The screen saver came on, meaning it's been at least fifteen since I fell asleep. My neck hurts when I try to sit up straight in my chair. When I look at the watch, I realize I've been asleep for at least an hour.

 

"Rebecca," I croak into the intercom.

 

I hear joints popping and cracking as I unfold off my chair. I wince in pain when I look up at my assistant, feeling as if someone hit my neck with a blunt sword.

 

"Could you bring me an industrial size coffee cup, please? And hold off any meetings I have for the next few hours."

 

I hobble to my bookshelves to get all the manuscripts dealing with demons. I have to find some bloody clue who to call to gather some information about the possible whereabouts of one late Richard Wilkins III.

 

"Thank you," I tell Rebecca who's bringing me the steaming coffee a few minutes later. "I have a feeling I'll ask for a refill soon."

 

She nods and smiles. I watch her leave the office and realize that I'd miss her if Faith and I ever manage to leave this wretched place.

 

At my second refill, a few hours later, I'm resigned to the fact that none of my contacts seems to know anything about a big bad demon like Wilkins sticking his head up. This however does not make me relax my vigilance. It only reinforces my belief that I need to get out of the office and do some old school information gathering. I'll have to find an occupation for Faith as I do this. I can't keep her around while I'm looking for Wilkins.

 

I stand up and go straight to Angel's office. Harmony warns me that the boss is in a meeting.

 

"Get him out for two minutes. It's important."

 

Angel comes out with Harmony, and we go into a smaller, empty office.

 

"I need you to keep Faith busy these days. I think Wilkins might be back. I need to do talk to some people, and I don't want her worrying about him."

 

Or do something worse than worrying. I don't tell him that.

 

He agrees to try to keep her occupied and I return to my office, to take a shower before going out.

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23 [Sep. 27th, 2006|07:54 am]

wicked_slayage
Watching Wesley dance around with a gourd was really very amusing I couldn’t the grin. When the magic started to rise, I glance over at Wesley one last time. I didn’t know what to say to him, but I think at the moment we were beyond words. Turning my head my eyes connect with the pale amber eyes of the wolf from my dream.

I want to brush my hand over the soft fur of the wolf, but I don’t. It starts to move forward and I follow behind it, keeping a new safe distance between us. For the briefest moment I wonder if the wolf is really wolf, or if it was a human simply in wolf form to guide me. There are stories of Indian’s changing into animal form, why would this be much different?

The wolf leads me between a canyon of rocks, and then just as I thought it was never going to end I came into a vast clearing. I knew my part in all of this. The wood by the pit, the choice of rock and log to sit on. I turn to find the wolf again but it was gone.

I can’t help but wonder how Buffy did everything. Did she sit on the rock or did she sit on the long? Did she put in the wood before that moment when day meets night or did she wait until the last minute? What about the others before? How did they do it? Why does it matter?

One answer covers them all: I don’t know.

I don’t know how Buffy or the others did everything, and I don’t know why it matters. Maybe it matters because I want to be different, or I’m worried I am different. That instead of getting answers I’ll be...shunned.

Pulling my hands from my pockets I walk over to the pit and I start to put the pieces of wood in, one at a time. I know the lists and pieces by heart. Once each piece is in place I sit and I briefly wonder if Wesley’s ok. Of course he is. He’s the one with super, fancy magic spells to protect him.

I take a seat on the log and take a deep breath. Now to wait.

Patience is not something I have, unfortunately. I guess I’m not as bad as before I was in prison. In prison all I had was time. Time to sit, time to read, time to think, time to play over every last detail of my life. This is like prison only without the physical bars. I’ve put my own bars up.

I lift my head at the rustling sound of the wind, and then almost as if on cue with the sun low in the sky the shiver of magic traces it’s way through my body. It was the time when the world was caught between light and dark. A time when the world is at it’s most vulnerable.

Standing from the log I pull the matches from my pockets and set the logs on fire in the five elemental points. It is only a few minutes before the fire is a large blaze. I feel a sense of peace and relaxation swarm through me, and I realize it isn’t my peace that I’m feeling. It’s the primal instinct. Fire fights away the darkness and can kill almost anything.

I don’t move to take a seat again, there’s no need. It’s almost as if she appeared from the flames on the other side of the fire. “You’re the First Slayer?”

“I am the guide.” the figure informs me. Figures, I don’t even get the real First Slayer, even in spirit form. I get a guide in form of the spirit form. Does it take away from all of this? No, not really.

“I need to know…” I hesitate and take a deep breath.

“You want to know what is your purpose.” The guide says slowly making it’s way around the fire towards me. The movements are almost exactly the same. Slow, and calculated; like a predator hunting it’s prey.

“Yeah,“ I say as I start to move away. “Well you know, now there’s a butt-load of Slayers everywhere, and I just don’t think I’m needed anymore.”

“There was a time when there was only the Slayer. We were solitary hunters, and bound by magic to mages to ensure our line would go on. Centuries went by and the world changed. The mages became Watchers, and the Slayers were still the same, but both were destined by blood, and magic.”

We’re circling the fire, my hands safely out of my pockets just in case I should need them. She looks so spry and much more powerful than I am. I can feel her energy like a warm trickle of water down my back

"Watchers and Slayers only had each other, and so it was encouraged that the Slayer and Watcher be everything to one another. Times changed again, procedures changed. It was no longer allowed for a Slayer and Watcher to be what they needed to one another. Times are changing again.”

She leaps through the fire, and tackles me backwards. Our bodies roll away from the fire and her hand is firm on my stomach. “You embraced death as your gift. Now embrace life as your gift.”

I close my eyes and clench my teeth. Trying to understand everything that was said, but it feels like my breath was torn from my lungs. I still feel heavy with the imprint of her body, but when I open my eyes she isn’t there.

“Life is my gift” I mutter as I stand, not bothering to wipe away the sand and dust from my clothes. “Couldn’t tell me if I'm supposed to be receiving or giving this gift and make things easier, could you?” I mutter.

I don’t know how long my conversation with the First Slayer lasted but the fire is almost gone, and I start to make my way back to Wesley’s car. Slayers had been bound to mages through magic, and the mage turned into Watchers. Maybe it’s time I ask Angel for my Slayer handbook again.

I walk through the canyons of rocks, and I pass the spot where Wesley had sat in the center of twigs. A few more feet and I was back at the car, back to Wesley. I feel a sense of relief when I see Wesley. I didn’t realize it before, but I had been afraid he wouldn’t be here when I got back. The fact I cared if he was there was another thing.

“Hey…” There’s something about the dark, in the middle of nowhere that always makes me drop my voice low almost to a whisper. I guess I just don’t want to alert the scary things that lurk in the shadows of the darkness.
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22 [Sep. 26th, 2006|01:35 am]

wicked_slayage
[mood | sore]

After the ocean and dinner we went back to Wesley’s apartment but I don’t think I actually helped with much. I reviewed the ritual over and over, Wesley drilled me until I couldn’t take it anymore and that was that. He did some more research but our conversation was pretty much nil. He asked me a few questions here and there, but over all he just went in and went to bed.

I couldn’t go back into his room, and I didn’t. Instead I spent most of the night doing my own thing. I wrote out a training schedule that I have every intention of starting Monday morning. It was more difficult than the schedule I’d been keeping. Maybe I just want to keep myself busy.

Maybe after the quest it won’t matter.

Tossing the schedule aside on the table next to Wesley's books, I walk over to the box and open it very slowly. Wesley’s asleep but it still feels very wrong to be going through this stuff with him so near. Sliding my hand into the box, I move the black box that holds the knife in it aside with the envelope and lift the dress out. It still looks brand new.

Shaking my head, I gingerly fold it back up and place neatly into the box. Everything with Wilkins was neat. His clothes were pressed every day, his office was utterly clean…god that man hated anything untidy. He hated the hotel I lived in with a fiery passion.

Setting the box aside I glance at the clock and take a deep breath. We were leaving in less than two hours and I still wasn’t sleepy. This would be the last time I was alone until Wesley got up, and then I’d be stuck in his jeep with him for nearly four or five hours. Here’s hoping we don’t piss each other off, or else one of us will be walking home.

Sitting in the middle on the floor near the door, I take another deep breath and slowly let it out. Pulling my legs underneath me, I sat a bit straighter, and pulled my shoulders back giving the impression of good posture. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t.

Another deep breath, and another slow exhale. Another deep breath, and then I hold it for just a moment. I can feel my heart beat accelerate with the new oxygen and then slow dramatically when the oxygen gets old. I exhale. I do this over and over again, my eyes closed. The sound of my breathing is the only thing I hear next to my heart beat.

I was never so great at meditation but it seems to come easier to me today; now, here in Wesley’s apartment. It’s strange and oddly relaxing. I can feel myself relax and let go. It feels good.

I’m very aware of everything in my surroundings. What I’m not aware of is how long I’d been sitting. Slowly, and carefully I roll my body backwards into a lying position; my legs straighten and I slowly lift them up into a vertical ninety degree angel. In one lucid movement I roll back further and tuck my hands up underneath me, lifting myself into a hand stand.

My legs waver for a moment and they press against the door lightly. I can feel the magic barrier protecting Wesley’s apartment and that sudden rush of energy is all it takes for my to get my legs off of the door.

Thankfully it isn’t what breaks my concentration. The sound of coffee mugs clinking together does, and I fall landing on my shoulder an arm with a thud and an oomph.

“Good thing shoulders come in pairs.” I mutter lying face down on the ground--breathing hard.
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21 [Sep. 24th, 2006|11:19 pm]

w_wyndham_pryce
[Current Location |Los Angeles]
[mood | inquisitive]

"Maybe it's time someone returned the favor," Faith says.


"It's not a favor," I mutter, mostly to myself.

 

I have many questions for Angel, mingled with regrets and reproaches, but as we enter his office I realize that it all comes down to two things. Did he promise anything else to Wolfram and Hart to get them to alter reality for such a massive number of people and why did he erase Lilah.

 

Angel is at his desk. I sit on the visitor's chair in front of him.

 

"How did you get them to do the spell? What did you offer them in return?"

 

He looks at me in silence. I can see such sadness and regret in the depths of his eyes that I feel almost guilty to harass him. I brought him from the bottom of the ocean, fed him my blood after he had withered almost to the point of no return after Connor had made sure he never surfaces again, and he still fucked us all for the sake of his son.

 

"Nothing else. Just our agreement to work here."

 

I don’t know if I can believe him. Time will tell. Time I intend to use to look for the answers I can't trust coming from him. But I still have one more question.

 

"Why did you erase all my memories of Lilah?"

 

My voice hasn't even trembled saying the name. I didn't close my eyes at the memory. I'll deal with this later. In private.

 

"What are you talking about?" Angel asks, looking surprised.

 

"I'm talking about Lilah Morgan. Former head of Special Projects. Doesn’t ring any bells?"

 

He shakes his head uncomprehendingly.

 

"My lover for six months. I couldn’t remember her face, or her name. Did you enjoy knowing that I couldn't remember that she ever existed?"

 

"Wes, I give you my word, I have nothing to do with that. All I asked was that no one remembers Connor."

 

"Then who..."

 

I don’t go on. If Angel hasn't done this, there is only one person who could have. The one who brokered the deal. It would have been easy for her to slip this in the request. Lilah.

 

Angel seems to reach the same conclusion.

 

"She probably wanted to give you a chance to start with a clean slate. She must have lov..."

 

"She didn't love me," I say, standing up abruptly. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Angel. I'll get all the truth," I tell him.

 

I said it plainly, without the trace of menace I could've put in the words. I'm not looking for vengeance. I want the truth. If he's the one who took Lilah from my mind, in some twisted way, he'd be entitled to do have done it. I took his son and condemned him to eighteen years in hell. It looks like the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

 

"You know something, in all the years I've known you, I don't think I ever heard you apologize," Angel says.

 

He's probably right. I take responsibility for my actions, but I don't ever apologize. Feels like a waste of time.

 

If there's one person on Earth I should apologize to, it's Connor. But I know it won’t make up for his term in hell, so I probably won't apologize to him either.

 

"See you on Monday," I tell him and walk out.

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20 [Sep. 23rd, 2006|03:05 pm]

wicked_slayage
"Enjoy your date."

“Thanks Wes.” I smile, “I’ll call you when I get home. It shouldn’t be too late, but you never know. I try not to restrict myself with time frames on my days off.”

“Call me if you find anything about the dreams?“ I call as I walk into my bedroom and pull on my sneakers. There’s no need to for me to tie and untie them, well I’m sure there is I just don’t bother. As long as the tie holds and the shoe doesn’t fly off I really don’t care.

Pulling my pant leg over the shoe, I straighten and glance in the mirror across the way in the bathroom, looking myself over in the mirror.

I didn’t look too bad. In fact I looked pretty damn good. The shirt does wonders for my chest, and the cross just seems to accent my cleavage. It feels wrong to be going out on a date with Connor, wearing a necklace cross that Wesley gave me.

Walking out of my room, I reach up to unclasp the cross, but the sound of a car honking makes my hands drop. I walk into the kitchen and peer through the blinds of the window above the sink that over looks the street. It’s Connor. I wonder why he didn’t just come up to the door then I realize it’s because Wesley’s jeep is in the drive.

“Gotta go.” I grab my cell phone, keys, ID and money, shoving them all into different pockets. I’m almost sure I won’t need money with me but I’d rather be prepared for anything. Originally I didn’t plan on taking my phone, but if Wesley finds anything I want to know.

Wesley mutters something under his breath but I can’t hear it, and I don’t question. Instead I just follow out of the house behind. I turn my back to the street and pull the door closed. Grabbing my keys, I slide the house key into the locks and turn the key before checking the doorknob to make sure it’s locked.

I turn and find Connor standing in front of Wesley. Had I missed something? I didn’t hear either of them talk. They were staring each other down; A test of wills I guess. I walk over and place my hand on Connor’s arm. A flirty move, yes, but it broke the contest with Connor having the weakest will. I don’t think Wesley would have so much as flinched if I had touched his arm to end it.

“Hey, ready to go?” I ask Connor.

His eyes flick to mine, then to Wesley’s and back to mine. He takes a breath and the tension in his muscles seem to recede instantly. “Yeah, I’m ready. Wesley.” he says with a nod.

“I’ll see you later Wes.” I remove my hand from Connor’s arm as I start for Connors car. He unlocks the door and opens it but he doesn’t hold it open for me. Smart kid. I step down from the curb of the sidewalk in front of my house and get in closing the door.

The car smells like Connor. So much in fact that it doesn’t take long for the thoughts of the dream last night to start to fade away. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

“You might kick ass in training, but paintball is my specialty. I play every weekend.” Connor says as he starts the car and pulls away from the curb. There’s a slight rush when he pulls away from the curb fast.

“Careful, it’s Saturday and there are kids out playing.”

Connor spares a second to look at me before placing his eyes back on the road. There must’ve been a look on my face because he quickly sobered up. I think he was just showing off because Wesley had been there.

I’m surprised when we get to the paintball range to find out that it’s classic paintball. No air soft guns; just balls of paint that you throw at one another. We’re handed a pair of coveralls that we both pull on over our clothes, safety goggles and a side shoulder messenger back that holds the paintballs.

I’m amused to see that it looks like the messenger bag I have stuff full of Slayer paraphernalia. These messenger bags are filled with one color each; I gave him the bright neon red ones. If I’m going to be covered in a paint it’s going to a funky red instead of safety guard yellow.

“You still sure you can take me?” I ask him sliding the safety goggles on.

“Yeah well I was MVP for my high school baseball team. I think I’ll do alright.” He answers with a grin putting on his own safety goggles. We both saddle ourselves with messenger bag and take off to the course.

Seek and destroy is the name of the game. As a Slayer I’m natural tracker, but sometime tells me so is Connor. There’s hundreds of things to hide behind, or to use as cover . I take a cheap shot and hit him with the first one right out the gate. His back now had a big, bright yellow target on it. I take off in the opposite direction before he can turn and peg me with one of his own.

I can’t count the minutes we’ve been there, and I stopped counting after the fifth paintball was smashed on top of my head, coating it the red color. What I do know is that I’m having fun. I’m mid-throw when Connor’s phone starts to ring. He bows his head and I can hear the smack of the ball hitting his face.

“Oh shit. Connor are you ok?” I ask, trying not to laugh at the fact that the entire side of his face was now yellow.

“You’ll pay for that.” He jokes pulling his phone from his pocket an answering it. “Hello? Oh, hey Angel. Yeah I’m with Faith, why?”

My ears prick up at this and I listen intently as I come to stand by Connor’s side.

“Vail?” he asks, he looks at me apologetically, and I give him a small smile. I don’t need to listen anymore. I step off the course and take off the coveralls while grabbing my phone. I hit the number 2 and press send--it’s Wesley’s speed dial number.
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19 [Sep. 22nd, 2006|12:57 pm]

wicked_slayage
Dreams on their own are strange. The average person has more than one dream a night but might only remember one or two, if any at all. As a Slayer I have a tendency to remember most of my dreams. They don’t always make sense but every now and then there’s a prophetic one thrown in.

Last night was no exception. My dreams started off simple; a warm, tropical white sand beach, and the sound of the surf crashing on land. I love the ocean. It was one of the reasons I went from Boston to Sunnydale. I could have cared less about the hellmouth it was just an extra perk. I love that I’m a Slayer. I love that I have purpose…had purpose.

It was that thought in my dream that changed everything. I was no longer on the sandy beach, but in the sandy desert. A time when the world had vast empty land, and a different sort of shelter for all beings on the earth. I know where I am going, and I know that when I get there the First Slayer will be waiting.

The part of me that knows this is a dream also knows that the First Slayer waits for no one she must be called, but when I am there someone already lit the fire and called her for me. She isn’t what I expected physically but her presence is. She is strong, a force to be reckoned with.

I dance around the fire trying to avoid her touch. I’m afraid of her and I should be. She was the First Slayer, she is primitive and relies only on instinct. She tires of our game and leaps through the flames of the fire. I’m amazed with she doesn’t cry out in pain. I’m even more amazed when it appears that likes the feel of the flames licking at her skin.

Maybe it’s because she isn’t alive anymore and here, reanimated in my dreams she feel again. Her spry body lands onto of mine and her bottomless black eyes bear into my own as her hand digs into my lower stomach.

“Now.” The word comes from a closed mouth, and carries on a sudden wind that hadn’t been there before. I realize now that she tapped our Slayer connection and whispered the word through my head.

I close my eyes. Now what? Now is the time to come see her? Now is the time for what? I open my eyes and I’m no longer in the desert. I’m lying on a bed staring into a chest that seems vaguely familiar. I know the voice that accompanies the well defined body, but I can’t place them to the face or name no matter how familiar.

My dream shifts again and I’m standing in the kitchen of a large house with a tub of ice cream balanced on my stomach that’s roughly the size of a basketball. I’m pregnant. Oh god I’m pregnant. My dreams start to flash faster, and I only catch glimpses of a child’s life growing from an infant, to a toddler, to their first day of school.

…and then my eyes open. I’m awake. It was all just a dream. Just a dream I tell myself over and over. At first it was to comfort myself but then I realize it isn’t much of a comfort at all. Throwing the blankets aside I walk into my bathroom and stand in front of the mirror.

I look at myself and try to see myself as a pregnant woman, but I can’t. I pull the waistband of my boxers down lower on my stomach and I caress the only scar that continues to live on my body. It’s light now, but I remember a time when it wasn’t. I remember when the knife slid into me at the hand of Buffy, just like it had slid into others at my own hand.

I caress my fingers over the scar and take a deep breath. I remember when I woke up out of my coma. I remember the chart. The blade had caught my left ovary, and when I plummeted onto the passing truck the wound tore. The chances of children were less than 15%.

I can’t think about this anymore. I put the waistband of my pajamas back in place and slowly turn from the mirror. I got what I deserved. I got what I had done to others before me, and the world saw to it that the chances there were be a mini-me running around were damn near nil.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and walk from my bathroom to my bedroom and out. I had other things I needed to think about; like my date with Connor. Oh fuck me. I hadn’t spared a single thought for him in nearly 12 hours. The sudden thought of him brought my fingers to my lips and I smile a little. His lips were full, soft and firm against my own. If the boy knew anything it was definitely how to kiss.

Walking out into the kitchen I turn on the coffee pot and glance at my phone. I hadn’t been in here since last night when Wesley dropped me off. I stare at the phone for a long moment before picking it up and dialing Wesley’s cell. It’s Saturday morning, he’s either still asleep or busy working. I’m almost thankful when his voicemail picks up.

“Hey Wes, it’s Faith. Just calling to see if you need any help with the demon slime I left in your car last night. Sorry about that. Give me a call if you need anything. I’ll have my phone with me until about 1:45 this afternoon before I go out to the paintball place. Talk to you later.”

There it was brief, to the point, and I even made a joke about last night and the demon slime…sort of. Walking over to the coffee pot, I open the cupboard above it and pull out coffee mug that had my name printed on it in what looks like an elegant cursive.

Today will be a good day if only because my favorite cup is clean. I should thank Wesley when I see him. He’s the only one that’s loaded, and unloaded the dishwasher after running it.
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18 [Sep. 21st, 2006|11:16 am]

w_wyndham_pryce

We're in front of the Bryce mansion. I get out of the car to open the door for Virginia. She doesn't seem disappointed when I don't make any attempts to join her inside. I had told her I need to return to work halfway through dinner. She must be all too used with my working habits to do anything than roll her eyes a little.

 

I worry that she knows me well enough to see that I was thinking of another woman all through dinner. She might not know it's Faith, but she can still sense that there is someone special in my life.

 

"I was hoping you might get over the way we broke up," she says, her tone sounding just the little bit accusatory.

 

"I did. I think you really cared about me, and knowing that I face a dozen ways of getting killed every day was too hard. I understand why you left, but not much changed in my life, Virginia. I may work in an office, but still do the same thing."

 

"Be careful, Wes," she says and kisses me softly on the cheek before going into the house.

 

What I told her was the truth. I understood it on a somewhat rational level before... before Faith. Speaking of Faith, I pull over and dial her cell.

 

"Hi, Faith, I'm on my way back. Meet me in the parking lot in half an hour, okay?"

 

On the drive to the Wolfram and Hart building, I consider my feelings for Faith. I tried to stop myself, but I can't. I'm falling deeper in love with Faith every day. It feels like the harder I try to pull away, the more I'm drawn to her. Damn it, even the attempts to push her into Connor's direction, backfired. I'm constantly angry when I know they're together. I always imagine their bodies, so young and well matched in physical strength, melded together, limbs tangled, mouths pressed against each other, tongues dueling... I grip the steering wheel tightly, carefully erasing that image from my mind.

 

I can't fall in love with her. I can't afford it. I've never been jealous before in my life. Well, I was on Fred and Gunn, but nothing like the searing hot feeling in my chest. I step on the gas, willing to push out of my mind all thoughts of Faith that don't pertain to work before meeting her.

 

Once I'm in the parking lot, I get out of the car to look for Faith. I know she hates it, but I still intend to open the car door for her. I see her a few yards away. With Connor. I clench my fists watching them as I wait for Faith to come to me.


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17 [Sep. 19th, 2006|01:30 am]

wicked_slayage
Wesley and I didn’t say another thing about my brief moment of bitchiness. Ok it wasn’t brief, I have spent days being angry. Not just at him. No it would be too easy to be mad just at him and I wish I could be because then it really would be easier, but I’m mad at myself.

I’ve been training with Connor everyday for an hour or two, sometimes if things are going good it’s three hours. He’s gotten over his squeamishness about sparring with a girl. I just hope that when it comes to a real fight and it isn’t me he won’t get killed because he hesitated.

“Can’t train as long today.” I tell Connor as I come into the training room. I already stretched I was just down stairs in the dining hall getting a couple bottles of water. “Don’t forget to stay hydrated. Your body uses more energy and more water than a normal person’s.”

“Why can’t we train as long today?” Connor asks taking one of the bottles of water I offered him and setting it down.

“I have other trainings to do every night, but since you got here late it cut out or training time.” I tell him with a shrug as I take a drink of my water. Setting it down I stretched my neck and arms a little as I continued to move around.

“Training? With Wesley?” Some emotion flashes over his features but I can’t read it. I don’t know him well enough or I never seen this emotion from him before. “It doesn’t bother you that he’s gay?”

“Gay?” I ask trying to hide my amusement. Oh yes, Wesley is gay and only spent a nice chunk of foreplay with me to hide it.

“Yeah, I think it’s an English thing. They’re all gay or at least bi.” Connor shrugs getting into his fighting stance.

“Kind of stereotypical of you, don’t ya think?” I ask not wasting anytime. I flip forward and laid, spinning into a round house that I aim for his head.

He ducks the kick and comes up punching. My hands move to block his. I use the whole in his defense the moment I knock one of his hands away and the other comes at me to spin and knock the back of my fist into his mouth.

“Maybe a little stereotypical, but I still think I’m right.” He says with a grunt as he tackles me to the floor. “What about that scar on his neck? I mean that’s pretty nasty I couldn’t imagine…”

I grab him by the throat with one hand and lift him off of me. I can see the panic in his eyes, and I use the moment it hits his body to slam him back on the ground. “Don’t talk about things you could never understand.”

We’re both standing now. Both in our ready positions and both panting. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs and drops from his fighting stance.

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing kid?” I ask not moving out of my stance. “Don’t move out of your stance.”

“Faith how old are you?” He asks crossing his arms.

“21.” I reply keeping my eyes on him.

“I’m 18 which makes you only three years older than I am. Stop calling me kid.”

“Deal. Now tell me what else is bothering you.” I finally pull out of my stance when I realize this isn’t a trick.

“It’s nothing.” He grumbles, falling back into stance.

I don’t push the issue. I charge him and the training continues. This time I do a combination right hook, spin and left elbow into his face. He catches my elbow with one hand and wraps the other around my waist. He molds himself to my back for a moment and I can feel him grin. “You’re not giving it your all are you?” Condescending little shit.

I elbow him in the side, he releases me and I turn slamming my foot into his chest. I watch as he flies into the wall and hits it. He falls against the floor and I hear the oomph of his breath leaving him.

“I was testing you. I think you learnt your lesson for today.” I walk over and hold my hand out for his with a smile. He returns the smile and takes my hand to stand.

“I’ll see you later.” Connor says with a smile as he grabs the bottle of water and goes to leave.
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16 [Sep. 18th, 2006|10:56 pm]

wicked_slayage
My eyes open at 2:50am and I can’t remember why. I remember dreaming, I’m not sure what the dreams were about but I was onto something because it felt like someone shook me awake. The sensation startled me into a sitting position. I can’t guess how long I’ve been asleep, a few hours, maybe.

There’s no way I can go right back to bed, so I get up and silently pad my way through the darkened house. Maybe not the brightest idea because my first thought is to go check on Wesley, and I do. I step silently into the living room and look at him with a smile. I had intended for him to sleep in the bed, but what I wanted and what he did are two very different things.

He looks so different asleep; Less stressed, less worried…he looks younger. If it wasn’t for the slight stubble he’d look a lot like he did when he was in Sunnydale. I bite my bottom lip at the thought of him in the tweed. At the time it had been amusing, but now it was just a turn on. I wonder if he even owns anymore of his tweed suits. They made him look so tall, and preppy and like he had a stake shoved too far up his ass. I wonder how he’d make it look now.

Reluctantly I turn from Wesley’s sleeping figure and walk into the kitchen. I’m momentarily blinded by the refrigerator’s sudden light when I open the door. My hand automatically claps over my eyes. “Son of a fucking bitch…” I whisper harshly.

I slowly spread my fingers and peak through them looking for the milk. I grab the gallon jug and gently shut the door. I wait until the white images that dance in front of my blinded eyes go away and I can see once more in the dark to set the milk down on the counter as I reach for a glass.

I had half a mind to just drink from the jug but I thought better of it since Wesley was here and I wasn’t sure if he was a milk fan or not. I down two glasses of milk before putting it away and going back to the living room. Wesley moved positions. He was laying on his side instead of his back now.

Taking a look around to make sure there was no one else around I stepped closer to Wesley’s sleeping figure and kneel down beside the couch. I want him, but how I want him is so screwy. I never wanted a man to be dominant over me and here I am, wanting Wesley to be dominant. To have control. To have me.

I pull his blanket up a little and softly brush my lips against his for a moment. He stirs a little and I stand walking back into my bedroom. I don’t want to wake him. No that’s not true; I want to wake him, I just don’t want to be rejected…again.

Placing my hands at the bottom of the bed I slowly crawl up onto it and pull the blankets back. I know I told myself I wasn’t going to sleep in the bed while it still smelt of him but I’m going to anyways. I snuggled down against the bed and wrap myself up in not only the blankets but the faint memory of him in my bed.

The smell of coffee wafted into my room, and I knew it was 8am. I had 3 cups of coffee yesterday and had set it up so it’d automatically brew at 8 o’clock. Rolling over, I inhale the smell of the coffee and then slowly let it out. The smell is almost enough to wake me up but not quite. It’s enough to lure me out of bed.

Fixing my twisted tank top I stand from my bed with a yawn and walk out of my room in the direction of the smell as I rub my eyes with both of my hands.
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15 [Sep. 17th, 2006|09:53 pm]

wicked_slayage
Angel was careful to park his car along the curb so that when I open my door no light makes its way into the car and turns him into a crispy critter, or worse a pile of ash. The look on his face isn’t happy. In fact it seems glued to jeep. “Wesley’s here?” he asks sounding betrayed.

“Yeah, he’s sick. Keeps getting dizzy and nauseous. I didn’t want him driving home so I drove him here.” I reply with a small shrug as I pull the seat belt over myself and click it into place.

“He’ll be ok here on his own?” He asks looking to me for the first time.

“Yeah. He’ll be fine I’m sure.”

The car ride is shorter than it is for me to run it but not by much. Angel took the car ride to explain what it is he wants me to do in ways of training Connor. Keep it basic, he said. I didn’t argue. There’s no sense in complicating things that don’t need to be complicated.

It always amazes me the energy Angel puts off. It’s like everyone just knows when he’s in a mood. They part like the red sea when we come off of the elevator and walk down to the training room where he had left Connor to warm up.

“Faith.” Connor says with a small smile before looking up at Angel. “I can’t fight with her. She’s…a girl.”

“Your powers of observation are astounding. Lets go junior.” I tell Connor with a small grin.

“Trust me Connor.” Angel told him. “She can handle herself. Remember what I told you about her? Keep that in mind.”

I wonder for a brief moment what Angel told him exactly, but I don’t have time to ask. Instead Connor just takes in a deep breath and sighs a little. “I can’t, and even if she hurt me first…I couldn’t hit her back.”

“We’re not fighting.” I tell him, drawing his attention back to me. “If we were your ass would have been knocked out and dragged half way to china by now. We’re just going to work on basics; blocking, punching and kicking. We’ll start slow.”

It’s like a dance. You have to show someone the moves first so I have Angel demonstrate. He comes at me with right hook and I counter knocking his hand away. Then Connor tries it and I do the same again. “An actual fight isn’t going to be like this. It’s going to be fast paced and you need to think on your feet.”

Angel and I pick up the speed a little; I throw a left hook and then a right, both getting blocked and then I follow through with round house to Angel’s head that makes contact. “Look for holes in their defense, ok?”

Connor had been watching intently the entire session. His own hands mimicking what Angel and I were doing close to his body. That’s when I caught him off guard, swinging my leg to sweep his out from under him. He nipped up and I smiled. There was something about him. He had this look in his eyes, and a smile.

I shake my head trying to clear the hormones left over from earlier with Wesley out of my head. Connor is just a kid. He couldn’t be more than 18 but he was definitely hot. I wonder what it’d be like to run my fingers through his hair and press my lips against his full lips.

He comes at me with punches and I block them. He throws in his own fancy foot work, and lifts his leg to kick me. I grab him by the foot and use his momentum to flip him away from me.

I’m not even aware of Angel’s eyes on us anymore. I’m too intent on Connor. We continue to exchange blows and blocks. He catches one of my hands in his and turns his body into mine and tries flipping me over. I land on my feet and counter his move by slamming him onto his back. “Give up kid?”

“Not yet.” He tells me as he jumps out and tackles me to the mat.

Our bodies are pressed tightly together and our breathing is more like a panting. It’s then that I realize I wasn’t seeing him. I was seeing Wesley. In my mind I was sparring Wesley.

“I think we ‘re done.” I say hearing Angel move, and suddenly very aware of how happy Connor was to be so close to me.

“Oh yeah…” He said quickly standing and holding his hand out for mine. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

I take the offered hand and stand tugging my tank top back down. “No you were good kid.”
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14 [Sep. 15th, 2006|04:02 pm]

wicked_slayage
I’m not sure if I can describe what happened at the coven. I’m not even sure if I really understand it. What I do understand is that Wesley is upset, and I am incredibly confused. He spoke with Christine, and the others were more than happy to talk with me. Ok, maybe they weren’t that eager to talk with me, but they were eager to keep an eye on me. Something about slaying the hornless goat. I’m guessing that means they knew I’ve murdered.

It sounds like something they’d call a sacrifice, and I suppose in a lot of ways they were sacrifices. They weren’t for me. The first one had been an accident. I was slay-happy, which is the same thing when a cop gets trigger-happy and shoots an innocent bystander on accident.

All the others though--those were sacrifices weren’t they? Sacrifices for an ascension in power. It was suppose to be my day. The day Richard came into power I was going to come into power too. Instead I’d been in a coma.

To this day I wonder why the Council didn’t just kill me then. They probably should have, but they also probably never thought I’d see the light of day again. I don’t remember being in a coma but I do remember the dreams I had. It was like I was lost in a maze trying to find my way out. In some ways I still am.

That’s not what confuses me, not really. One of the witches, wiccas…whatever said something about Wesley’s feelings towards me. I didn’t hear all of it but it sounded like he was pushing me away because he was getting too close to me. Because he liked me. Color me stunned.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask gently once we’re back to the same side of that small town that I liked. “You don’t have to of course just thought I’d offer a listening ear.”
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13 [Sep. 14th, 2006|03:22 pm]

wicked_slayage
It doesn’t take long for me a change; A pair of black shorts, an athletic tank top to make sure everything stays in place, and tennis shoes later I was ready to roll. I walk into the training room, and this time it takes my eyes less time to adjust to different type of lighting in the training room. I should start demanding to train at night in the dark. I’m more nocturnal than I am anything else anyways.

I don’t even have to look up when Angel enters the training room. He always had a thing about timing, and came in just as I finished warming up. I smirk a little when he tries to catch my by surprise.

I feel the energy from him as he moves to sucker punch me, but I turn, and grab his fist mid-movement. The look of surprise ran a wave of triumph through me. I hold onto his fist and turned my body into his as I throw him over mine.

He lands on the floor with a thud. If he breathed there might have been an oomph sound when the air got knocked out of him, but there wasn’t. Like it or not Angel isn’t human. Angel isn’t even alive. How bad off do you have to be when the person closest to you is the undead? Pretty fucking bad.

I watch as he gets up. There’s something on his face; he’s angry like me if not more. I almost wonder why but then realize that is what will get me hurt. Sympathy in battle.

Angel advances on me, we trade a series of punches and blocks. I don’t know why but after seeing his anger my heart just wasn’t in it and this time he did catch me by surprise. He grabs me by a fist full of hair and smashes my head against the wall. “You know I don’t think you’re in the game. Come on Faith this for your benefit. Not mine.”

Did he just use my own words against me? Oh hell no. He has another thing coming if he thinks he could best me even on his best day. “I’m always game Angel. Even for a watered down soulful vampire like you.”

I knock his hand out of my hair and punch him square in the mouth, busting his lip. “I don’t remember you bleeding so easily.” I tell him with a smirk.

I must have really pissed him off because one moment he was perfectly human and the next he vamped out on me. His fists moved in a blur and he caught me a few times. It’s alright I’m wearing him down. His fist connects with the side of my face, and then his knee into my stomach and his fists into my back knocking me down.

Now I’m really pissed. I roll away from his other attack and nip up. I don’t think Angel was expecting the onslaught from me. I start to push myself harder and fast. A back handed fist to his face makes perfect contact with his head, just above his eye at the temple. My other fists hits his chest and I’m almost sure I hear a bone pop. Like the cracking of a rib.

He doesn’t stop though he charges at me and I jump hanging onto a bar that’s normally used for pull ups. I swing back and then forward kicking Angel in the face. When he staggers back I fling myself from the bar and land on top of him, tackling him to the ground.

My anger had taken over and I was hitting Angel relentlessly until he caught my fists in his hands and pinned them between us as he wrapped his arms around me. His anger had left him, but mine was still there. I can’t pinpoint one thing I’m angry about. Wesley yes, but there was more so much more.

The thousands of activated Slayers around the world was one of them, being rejected the night before was another but I was sure Angel didn’t know about that.

I understood Wesley’s need to feel as if he is worth something because at the moment I felt the same thing. I didn’t have any worth anymore. I wasn’t just Slayer number two anymore. I was just A slayer in a whole mess of them. I’m more expendable now than I ever was.

“It’s ok Faith. It’s ok, we're done now." Angel tells me, making sure my hands are between us in case I get the urge to bloody up his face some more.

"No, I'm done now. The one thing I ever loved..." I sigh and rest my head against his arm for a minute trying to catch my breath.

"You're still a Slayer Faith that doesn't change. You just have more options now."

"More options in a world that never welcomed me to begin with. No thank you." I say pushing away from him and standing.

"Work with me. I always need an extra good guy."

I ran my hands through my hair, rubbing the spot where Angel had pulled, and nodded. "I can't focus enough right now, but come up with something and we'll talk."

"Deal."
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12.a [Sep. 14th, 2006|09:32 am]

w_wyndham_pryce
[mood | grumpy]

I feel my arm catching fire where she brushes past. I’d make a grab for the keys but that would mean touching her hand and that wouldn't be wise.

"Teatime is five in the afternoon, not five in the morning," I say grumpily. "My keys," I demand, holding my palm up to receive them.

She could throw them at me and that would be equally safe. As long as she doesn't touch me. I have to add something that might push her away, but I don't want to hurt her. I'm sure that a remark on her lack of discrimination in post slayage sex partners would be enough to drive her away. I can't gather enough strength to spew out such venom.

"Why do you have to make me say it aloud? I'm too old for you."

Did I guilt her into leaving? I hope so. And, at the same time, I hope it didn’t work.

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12 [Sep. 11th, 2006|04:07 am]

wicked_slayage
"I wish we shouldn't have to go."

I wish the same thing but I don’t say anything. I know what will come out of my mouth if I so much as open it, and so I don’t. Instead I bite the inside of my bottom lip and turn. It’s easier to resist temptation if it isn’t talking. It isn’t the words that are important, but the tones the words are said with and the things that the tones could imply.

I picked up a silver letter opener on the way out the door. I twirled it when I picked up and then placed it between my teeth as I twisted my hair back. Always good to have a weapon on you somewhere, most people won’t look in your hair.

I walked beside him as we left the apartment; I wanted to tell him no again, but I couldn’t. The car ride was silent. Not necessarily uncomfortable but I didn’t feel like talking over the sound of my open window. I need the fresh air. If I didn’t get to hit something and hit something soon, tonight would be a very bad night.

The house, if you can call it that was massive. There was security all over the place, but I wasn’t surprised when they flagged us in. We were, of course expected. I couldn’t help but wonder why Wesley wasn’t still with her. I’d seen the pictures she was pretty, and they looked good together.

Jealousy. It gets you no where. I push the thoughts and the feelings from my mind. I’m the muscle, and I know it.

I step out of the Jeep only to be greeted by a guard who pushed me by the shoulder to face me towards the Jeep. I guess Wes forgot to mention he was bringing reinforcements. I’d been searched before. Hated to tell the guard, he was doing it wrong but I know why. He was trying to cop a feel. Bastard.

He starts at my ankles and works his way up along my legs; the outside first and then inside. Point for him when he didn’t put his hand between my legs. Stupid but he’s lucky. He’s lucky again when his hand brush over my ass. It wasn‘t a grope. I spare a glance at Wesley. I can’t read his expression. I don’t think he’s too happy. The guard takes a little too long sweeping my sides and his fingers brush my breast a bit longer than I’d like

I don’t think he saw me move because when I turn, his fingers caught in my grip and I start to twist he looks surprised. “If you think I’m going to sit back and let some second rate guard fondle my tits your very, very wrong. Touch me again and I promise you won’t wake up until sometime next week.”

I know the look on my face isn’t pleasant, and the whimpering sound from him didn’t even make me stop. “Do you understand me?”

“Y-Yes..” His voice breaks a little and I let go of him, stepping away.

I had half a mind to pull the sharp envelope opener and press it against his throat, but then they might not let me in at all. Besides, I might need it later and sharp edges were always a strong point of mine.

“Ready?” I ask, looking up at Wesley as I close the door to the Jeep.
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11 [Sep. 6th, 2006|09:31 pm]

wicked_slayage
I’m not sure how long Angel and I spent talking in his office. A hour, maybe two. I’m still not sure why, but thought I should just leave Wes alone for a while. It seemed like the thing to do and why I cared, I don’t know. It isn’t as if we never fight, but maybe it’s because we always fight. That’s what it feels like anyways.

When Angel got a buzz from Harmony saying there was some sort of an emergency I left Angel to it. This was his gig not mine.

Meandering my way down to the training room I take a big breath and sigh a little. I’m use to being alone to make my own fun, but after a month I guess I got use to Wesley dictating my schedule.

Oh well. Grabbing a bottle of water, I place it in the cup holder of the treadmill, and find the stereo that’s hidden away in one of the walls.

I’m almost thankful the room in sound proof, but part of me really wants to disturb all of the ‘business’ going on outside of these walls. I crank the music and step onto the treadmill. I start at a slow walk, letting the beat of the music fill my being. It isn’t long before I’m at a jog. My heart isn’t even pounding yet, but I can feel my head start to clear.

My feet start moving faster and faster with each passing second until I’m in a dead run. My hands are no longer holding onto the rails of the treadmill but are pumping at my sides to keep up. My breathing is shallow and sharp, my heart is now racing and I can feel something inside me stir the moment I feel my chest is about to break if I don’t push just that little bit further.

For an instant I’m connected. To what I don’t know, but I know whatever it is I’m in the middle of it. Good, bad and every thing in between. Maybe it’s because I’ve been on both ends of it all and now I don’t know where I belong. I close my eyes and it’s like I can see it.

The final days of the possible apocalypse are coming. Both sides are powering up; The First and B. I don’t know when the big show down is but it’s close, I can feel it. The energy is tremendous. I’m almost sure that for a moment Buffy sees me but it’s not her I hear.

“Faith.” It was the First, no it was the First in Wilkins form.

The sudden sound of my name knocked me from my concentration, making me miss a step and before I can stop myself the treadmill throws me off; knocking me onto the ground with a thud.

I lay there with my eyes closed for a long moment. My breathing is still erratic and my heart rapid. I don’t know if it’s from the running or the fear that’s coursing through me.
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10 [Sep. 5th, 2006|12:04 pm]

wicked_slayage
I’m almost positive I was asleep before Wesley returned, or nearly because I only heard him enter and then moments later I felt the bed shift once. Maybe I was in that place just before sleep, and I slipped off just as he was getting comfortable.

I was grateful that my dreams about the Mayor and the First were interrupted. I’m not sure what woke me, but I know Wesley is out of bed.

Figures. Guys always do that shit, and people wonder why I don’t keep one around long enough. Why lie? Of course I’m not with Wesley so what does it matter? Why should it matter? It doesn’t.

Slipping out of bed, I walk into the bathroom and take a quick shower. Wash my hair, body and a quick shave. I’m feeling good, better.

I wrap the towel around my body and I stand in front of the mirror to inspect myself. Everything is healed and I don’t look like one of those women on a Lifetime movie who got the crap beat out of her by an asshole boyfriend.

I walk out to get dressed but the smell of food knocks into me, and I realize just how hungry I am. There’s no telling what we will do today; training or studying.

Just in case I pull on a pair of black athletic pants, an athletic tank that holds my breasts where they need to be, and the put on my socks and shoes.

“Morning.” I tell Wes as I walk into the kitchen. He certainly made himself at home there. It’s fine, I mostly just use the microwave. Opening the fridge, I don’t bother to ask how he slept. Seems too intimate, too comfortable. Grabbing a bottle of Dr. Pepper, close the door to the fridge and lift myself effortlessly up onto the kitchen counter opposite of him.

“What’s for breakfast? It smells good.”

Ok I’m not really sure if it smells good, I just know I really need to eat. I am starving, and could probably eat anything set in front of me.
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9 [Sep. 3rd, 2006|11:39 am]

wicked_slayage
I don't make a comment about Angel and trust. At the moment my trust for him was very little. The information he didn't give to me could have cost me my life. He's really not my favorite person right now. I like him about as much as I like myself at the moment.

I catch the keys without even looking up when he threw them. I could hear them fling from his hand. I don’t even bother to ask for my phone back. I might call Angel and tell him to go dust himself.

“I have a little bit of everything from frozen meals, to steak and chicken in the fridge. Whatever you want. Make yourself at home.” It’s the best that I can offer since he’s now stuck with me until he can fix whatever it was I broke. Magic is such a complex thing in my mind which means probably even more difficult to really do.

Sliding slowly out of the Jeep I wince. I might have been sitting for only a few minutes but my muscles took it to mean there wouldn’t be anymore stress of any kind.

Sliding the key into the lock I turned it slowly and opened the door. The door held a faint smell of fruits that were in sitting on the counter in the kitchen, and incense that I burn a night when it’s just me and I’m trying to meditate.

“There’s some leftovers from last night if you don’t feel like cooking.” I tell him as I set the keys onto the counter in the kitchen and move to the freezer. I keep the freezer stock full of ice cream. Just a couple of tubs; Vanilla ( I have chocolate, fudge and such in the fridge), Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Godiva, some Ben and Jerry’s.

Tonight was a Chocolate Raspberry Truffle night. I needed all the comfort I could get, and since the only comfort I’d really be getting was in the form of food, I decided to hell with Wesley. Let him know I have a soft spot for old films that have a happy ending.

Grabbing the ice cream and a spoon, I walk into living room and sit down on the couch. It’s not a large couch. Big enough for two people, but it’s the only seating in the house other than the coffee table.

Snuggling into the crook of the arm of the chair and the back of it, I grab the remote and turn on the TV, happy to see TCM was showing Gone With the Wind. It was already half over, but I didn’t mind. I only watch it in it’s full length once a year and today wouldn’t be it.
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