In The Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Just the idea I put them in.

Archive: www.adult-fanfiction.org

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: B/F

Title: In the Eyes
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It can all change in one blink of an eye. A war can start, a life can end, or begin anew.

And it's all done while you blink. Sometimes you should really keep your eyes open.

I should have. Because one moment she was there, and the next she was gone.

And I'm still here, running through the shadowed streets of Sunnydale searching for a ghost of the girl I fell in love with. And for a brief time she may have loved me back.

But that all ended in the blink of an eye.

I sleep with my eyes open now.

These alley's stink. The filth of both the demon and human world seem to congregate here. Infusing these small spaces with scents of death and pain.

Does pain have a smell?

She's out here. Somewhere. In these dark dank streets. Hiding from me.

Or not.

I have barely a moments warning before she hits me. She came from behind, strong and quick. She leaps on my back and I go down. I'm face first in the muck, taking a harsh beating to my neck and spine. She's not really aiming her hits as much as swinging blindly. It's not like her. She must be off her game.

She's usually so graceful.

Alright Buffy, stop wishing she fought better.

I roll us over and pin her down. Grabbing her arms and squeezing her legs between mine I bring her fighting to a halt.

She stares up at me. Her eyes empty and lost. Staring through me like I'm not there. Like she's not there, but her tears say otherwise. Streaming down her face, washing away the dirt and grime attached to her cheeks from her mad dash.

Here she lies beneath me, wearing her stolen clothes, looking like the little lost girl my mother thought she was. She's a smart woman my Mom. That's what gives me the idea in the first place.

Home.

It's just what she needs. What we both need.
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My mother doesn't question me when I carry her inside. She unconscious. She fought me when I tried to bring her here without force. I had to blacken her eye to knock her out. And call Willow for help. She put her under a sleeping spell. Worked likcharcharm. Pun intended.

"Is she okay Buffy?" I jump when my mother's worried voice reaches me from my bedroom doorway.

I'm sitting on my bed, wiping her face with a wet cloth. Thinking of a time when everything was simpler. When it was just me and Faith, Faith and me. The chosen two.

"Yeah Mom. Just a little tired" I shrug, I guess a coma's a bit like sleep "I chased her through the whole town. And Will's did a bit of a number on her"

"I put Willow and her friend in the guest room. I don't want any of you out anymore tonight" her voice is stern and I know better than to argue.

Well that and I'm tired anyway.

"Ok Mom" she leaves and I sigh, turning my full attention back to Faith. She'll be waking up soon and I don't want her running away. I find some rope and wake my sleeping witchy type friend to enchant it. Don't want that slayer strength breaking these bonds. I don't wanna have to chase her through the damn city again.

"Are you sure about this Buffy? I mean I trust your judgment and all but, hey, she is kinda psycho" Willow babbles from my doorway as I tied down my sister slayer. Tied to my bed. Oh the innuendo.

"Hence the enchanted ropage Wills. She's not getting far. Besides, I think all she needs is a little love" I chuckle at the incredulous look on her face.

"I think a little prison would do her better" she informs me with her worried face on "But if you think otherwise, who am I to tell ya you're wacky" she turns on her heel and returns to the guestroom. And Tara.

I wonder if there's something going on there.

They were kinda cuddly.

Willow gay...

No way.
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I sit up all night, watching her as she shifts and moans in her sleep, struggling against her magical bonds, stuck in her nightmares. I wonder when she'll come out of her magically enforced slumber.

Her eyes flutter open, as if she read my mind.

Her pupils are dilated, making her usually dark brown eyes black. Her gaze shifts nervously around my room, her arms and legs jerking as she tries to free herself.

"B?" her voice is husky, I can tell she's working around a dry throat, I reach to my side and pour a glass or water from the pitcher my mother was thoughtful enough to provide. Sometimes I think that woman knows everything. She even brought a straw.

The cool twisty kind that looks like your drink is riding a roller coaster.

She gives me an incredulous look, but sips from the twisted blue straw, her eyes crossing as she tries to follow the flow of the water as it makes it way up to her lips. She sighs as she swallows several times. We spend several moments in silence, her drinking, me just holding the glass. She finally drains it and relaxes back on the pillows.

"So B? You up with the kink now?" she gives me her trademark smirk.

Not quite what I'm aiming for right now.

But it's a definite start.
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