Rewards, by M. McGregor

Chapter 8

A crying Faith was the final proof Xander needed that she was indeed a different person, albeit a person scarred by the decisions of the past. She seemed so fragile and alone as she clung to him, holding him with enough strength that he might have been in pain, had he not had practice with Slayer hugs from Buffy. Xander grit his teeth and endured, because he knew Faith needed him to.

She was so small for someone so strong, just like Buffy. Faith was taller and perhaps more filled out than Buffy, but both could surprise him with the actuality of their size as compared to the giant nature of their presences. Even in her heels, those ridiculously high but undeniably sexy heels, Faith was shorter than him, and she rested her weight against him, holding him around the neck and shoulders.

It tore at his heart, which surprised him. Faith was not someone he thought of as pitiable, but she was surprising him greatly with the pure and unprotected heat of her remorse. He found himself shutting his eyes and holding her back just as tightly, and wishing she’d been able to do this with him almost three years ago. How much pain would have been saved? How bright a future might Faith have otherwise had?

After some time, he began to realize that Faith was exhausted, more emotionally than anything else. He couldn’t imagine the things that had been going through her head all day. She was beyond rational conversation at that point, and was holding him tightly, so he didn’t bother to ask if she wanted to rest. Instead, he bent slightly and scooped her up into his arms. Her legs were held awkwardly straight by the stiff boots she wore, or was forced to wear, and he frowned at them.

At once, the light flashed, and her legs were bare, save for the ankle cuffs. A constant reminder of their new reality. Xander’s frown deepened at the sudden vanishing of the troublesome boots, but said nothing. Faith curled up against him, burying her face against his chest and continued to weep, unaware of the changes to her outfit.

He settled down on the couch. He stroked her hair, held her as comfortingly as he could, and sometimes spoke to her in a low voice. He told her that he believed her, and that she could be different now. It seemed important to her, and she would cling to him all the tighter when he said it. It was difficult to keep his own tears away, so great was her pain.

She’d done terrible things, Faith had. He knew that. Knew firsthand how out of control she’d been. Could they ever be forgiven?

He thought of Anya, and knew they could be. Had to be. Without redemption, what was there for any of them? They’d all done things they regretted, some worse than others. They could change. They could be different.

And Faith was different now. She’d found her control when she turned herself in, and now…

Now he could be her control too. Now she’d asked him to help her, and he could do that. Would do that.

Xander leaned back against the couch, with Faith lying atop his chest, her sobs ebbing into tired pants and surprisingly cute hiccups every so often. She held onto him like a teddy bear, using his chest as a pillow. He breathed slowly, inhaling the scent of her hair, and kissed the top of her head as Faith fell into the sleep of one who has felt too much in a single day.

He fell asleep himself a few minutes later, his arms around her protectively. Possessively. Faith had been made his by some omnipotent bureaucrat. And he was damn sure going to take care of his stuff.

It was dark when he felt a pair of lips against his own. Xander hummed softly, and kissed those lips, smiling gently. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked into Anya’s eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she smiled, and glanced at Faith, who slept atop him. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

She gave him a little grin. “You mean am I upset you’re sleeping with Faith?”

The Slayer shifted slightly against him, murmuring quietly and then letting out a relaxed, contented sigh. Anya’s grin widened.

“I’m not,” she whispered, careful not to wake Faith. “She’s your reward. If you can have sex with her, you can sleep with her too. Just as long as I’m still your girlfriend.”

He shut his eyes sleepily. “Do you know how incredible you are?”

“Yes, but it’s surprising how few people seem to understand that.”

“Well this guy understands that. You’re incredible, Ahn. I really love you.”

Her lips brushed against his again. “I love you too,” she whispered. “Even when you have a Slayer sleeping in your arms.”

“She’s really hurting,” Xander whispered, his voice nearly inaudible.

Anya nodded, kneeling beside the couch in the dark. “I know. I heard.” To his surprise, Anya reached out, and gently brushed some of Faith’s hair out of her face. “She’s very similar to me.”

“Nobody’s similar to you, Ahn.”

That earned him a brighter smile. “I mean that she’s done bad things. Only she wasn’t a demon at the time.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But I don’t like it that she feels sadness.”

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Xander said, holding Faith with one arm and holding the other out to Anya. She took his hand, and rested her head beside his. “Shows you’re human.”

She sighed. “Am I human? I don’t feel the way she does.”

“Don’t you?” he asked, looking at her pointedly. Anya blushed.

“Maybe a little. But I don’t want to feel that way. It’s scary.”

“It’s human.”

“Being human is no fun sometimes,” Anya complained, pouting.

“It’s not all bad,” he said, and kissed her again. She smiled sadly against his lips.

“I guess not,” Anya replied, stroking Faith’s face with an almost wistful expression. She shifted, and changed the subject. “She’s very helpful.”

“She said the cleaning was your idea.”

“It was. We participated in an exchange of services, and I was able to negotiate a substantial profit.” She sounded very proud of herself.

“How’s that?” he asked, as Faith let out another low sigh that made them both smile.

“Demand for orgasms was very high, and I learned from Professor James Allens that when demand is high you should take advantage in your negotiations. I offered orgasms in return for my own orgasms as well as manual labor. Faith agreed very quickly. I don’t think she understands commerce very well, but that’s fine with me.”

Xander blinked at her. “She gave you org— I mean, you had sex with her?”

Anya nodded. “Yes. It was highly enjoyable, although she’s not as good at cunnilingus as you are, which is surprising.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I was assuming she would be better, seeing as how she’s a woman and has been with other girls before, but you do that poking thing with yo—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I mean, you really had sex with her?”

“Yeah.” She looked frightened for a moment. “Is that bad?”

“Uh, no. No, I don’t think so. I just… I guess I’m uh, surprised how easy you’re dealing with this.”

Anya shrugged. “You’re going to be having sex with both of them quite often, and I’m your girlfriend, so I feel I have some claim on your sexual experiences.”

“Mystical common law, huh?”

“Yes, exactly!” She clamped a hand over her mouth when Faith stirred. “Oops.”

“So you really don’t care about— about the sex?”

“It’s just sex.”

“Ahn, you know that I… how I feel about…”

She shushed him, and kissed his forehead. “I know how you feel about me. I don’t care how you feel about them.” Then she glanced at Faith. “Besides, I kind of like Faith as well. She’s very attractive, has very good tongue stamina, and is a very efficient worker. We should keep her.”

Xander snorted quietly. “Keep her?”

Anya nodded. “Yes. For sex and cleaning.”

“Sounds to me like I’m ‘keeping’ her one way or the other,” Xander sighed. “What with the reward and all.”

“So?”

“So I don’t like the idea of keeping a person.” He sighed again. “Then again, Buffy just kind of yelled at me about that. Things are the way they are.”

“Faith doesn’t seem to dislike being with you,” Anya pointed out. “And she enjoyed the orgasms I gave her in exchange for her services.”

He laughed as quietly as he could. “You’re right on the line of prostitution there, Anya.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “The exchange of sex for goods and/or services is one of the fundamental foundations of society, and always has been.”

“Okay, okay,” Xander said, not wanting to get into a lecture. He scooted over on the couch as much as he could, and patted the small exposed patch of cushion. “Join me?”

“There’s not a lot of room.”

“Always room for you.”

Anya smiled, and crawled onto the couch. Xander shifted Faith to one side, so she was pressed against him and the cushions on the back of the couch. She murmured quietly, and Anya lay on top of him, next to Faith. A moment later, Faith put one arm around Anya, and snuggled against the two of them.

“That’s very soothing,” Anya whispered quietly as she relaxed. “She’s very soft, and you’re very muscley.”

“I aim to please,” Xander mumbled, eyes closing slowly. Faith whimpered cutely, and pressed against Anya, her head settling beneath Anya’s chin. Anya inhaled softly, and then turned slightly, kissing Xander on the cheek.

“Yes. We’re definitely keeping her.”

Buffy sighed as she entered her house, gingerly removing her jacket. It was covered in demon’s blood, and she was pretty sure it was not salvageable. Throwing it in the “patrol-wear” hamper, she hoped her mother would utilize that seemingly magical skill she had in washing blood, pus, and various goos out of her clothes.

The house was quiet, what with it being a school night. Dawn was asleep, and her mom had an early day at work. It was only ten o’clock, but it felt much later. It had been a long day for her. A day of distracting fantasies, incredible realities, and stark truths.

She took a quick shower to wash away the sweat, grime, and gore of a night of patrol. Surprisingly, she kept her hands from distracting her too much. The nipple rings had vanished at the start of patrol, much to her secret despair. Rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, she missed the biting pain that the nipple rings could provide, as well as the naughty feeling of having them in the first place. There was not a trace of their having been pierced through her, which offered her an exciting possibility.

They could come back, and it would pierce her again, just as the first time, as if they had never been. Buffy moaned, recalling the shock of pain that had come without warning, nearly dropping her to her knees and cumming on the spot. She would feel that again, she knew. Maybe not even on her nipples. What if it pierced her labia? Or even worse/better: her clit?

She kept the water cold, so as not to get too distracted. As the cold stream washed over her, she closed her eyes, and thought of Riley.

He was going back to the Initiative. Said they’d been trying to contact him for some time anyway, something about the drugs that had pumped up his system when he worked for them. His friend and fellow soldier Graham was still with them, and apparently there was still a place for military demon hunters.

Riley had been surprisingly aloof about the entire thing. He’d kissed her, told her how special she was, and said he’d always remember her. When Buffy had asked how he could take it all so easily, he just smiled, shrugged, and said he knew it wasn’t meant to be. They’d been great together, but she was meant for other things.

She still wasn’t sure he believed her about the reward, and about what she had to do with Xander. She suspected that Riley thought she’d made it up as an excuse. Either way, he seemed to just accept it. Buffy had shed a few tears, hugging him tightly and telling him how sorry she was, but Riley, ever surprising her, had told her it was nothing to cry over. There time together had been wonderful, and they’d always remember it.

Then he was gone, and she was alone. Just like Angel.

Except she wasn’t alone. She belonged to someone now. She was Xander’s, and would be for as long as the magic was in place.

And maybe, a tiny voice whispered, maybe even beyond that.

She could do that, couldn’t she? If the magic was gone, she could give herself to him anyway. There was nothing that said she couldn’t.

Well, Anya might not like it, but Buffy wasn’t too sure on that. If Buffy offered to be her sexual plaything as well, Anya might well accept it even without the reward.

Buffy shook her head as she toweled off, drying herself. Without the reward, would she have ever had such a thought in the first place? She’d never been attracted to girls before, and now she was nearly salivating at the idea of pleasuring Anya in order to be with Xander. If the reward were gone, would she even want to give herself to Xander anymore?

She sighed. That wasn’t what mattered. She’d told Xander as much. At the very least, she knew she loved Xander, and that nothing could alter that, or force it upon her. So maybe without the reward she’d still want to be with him, if not give herself to him as…

A slave. A plaything. A toy that Xander could use whenever he wanted. She closed her eyes as she closed the door to her room, and let the towel slip from around her body. It crumpled into a heap on the floor, and she stepped over it. She inhaled deeply through her nose.

Buffy imagined herself kneeling, naked and collared, with her arms bound behind her. Staring up, she would see Xander’s body, naked, hard and muscular. His large cock pointing straight out above her. He could use her.

“Suck my cock, little slavegirl,” he could order, smiling down at her. “My Buffy.”

She would shiver at the order, at the knowledge that he controlled her so fully, and she would thank him. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Buffy groaned as she dug through her dresser, and found the slim cylindrical object she was looking for. The thin plastic vibrator was her only sex toy, and a faithful companion on lonely nights. Swallowing hard, she quickly fell back against her bed, spreading her legs wide, placing the flats of her feet against the bed.

It would be so hot. She could submit to him so completely, a sexual being caring only for her owner’s pleasure. Which in turn would bring her own pleasure. He would control her ecstasy, driving her to new heights and pushing her to new limits.

“Let me suck you,” Buffy whispered in the darkness of her room, her slavegirl fantasy running through her head. “Please, Xander. Let me please you. Make me yours.”

She flicked on the vibrator as she brought it to her pussy lips, and gasped at the buzzing intensity of it. There was no more Riley, he was gone, and she was free to be Xander’s. The pain of losing him was overwhelmed by the pleasure of being Xander’s. Some of the guilt she’d felt all throughout the day was lifted.

What would it bring, being Xander’s? Would she have sex with Anya? Would she have sex with…Faith? Her enemy, her rival, the one who had tried so hard to steal her life?

“I’ll lick her pussy,” Buffy whispered to the Xander who was not there, her eyes closed tightly to better focus on her pleasure. She stifled her moan, not wanting to wake up her mom or sister. “I’ll do anything for you, Xander.”

The vibrator slid deeper inside of her, and she pulled it slowly out before pushing it back inside again. With her other hand, she pulled hard at her nipple, squeezing as tightly as she could force herself. She grit her teeth and arched her back.

“Tell me to lick Faith’s pussy,” Buffy whined quietly. “Tell me to kiss her. Tell me to worship her, Xander. You can do it, you can make me do anything.”

She gasped and went deeper.

“You could fuck my ass,” Buffy groaned, her body flushing with heat at her decadent thoughts. “Fuck my ass while I lick hers. God, so nasty. So good, Xander. Tell me to lick her ass, and I would do it.”

Groaning, her back arched again. She was going over the edge now, unaware of her surroundings, unaware of anything but the buzzing intruder in her pussy. “What if I didn’t?” she whined at the imaginary Xander. “Would you punish me? Oh, please punish me, Xander. Spank my ass. Spank me. Whip my tits. God, I need it…”

She grit her teeth and gripped her left breast roughly, mauling her own tit and hissing at the pleasurable pain. “Yours, Xander. Do anything. You own me. I’m your slave.”

She chanted it softly, driving the vibrator in and out over and over again, whispering darker and dirtier thoughts as she did so. Each new idea made her hotter; each nasty thought was so richly alluring.

Her body flushed, her legs spread wide, one hand mashing at her breast and the other driving the vibrator deeper, Buffy began to pant loudly. With each breath she begged him to fuck her, to own her, to control her.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, own mehurtme­loveme­fuckme­Xander!” she squealed loudly, lost in her orgasm, her words trailing together as she reached her peak. She stiffened and shivered all over before relaxing against the bed.

The hard bed.

Breathing heavily, Buffy blinked, and looked up. There, between her spread legs, was Xander. Her eyes went wide.

“Xander?” she whispered. Was it a dream?

“Buffy,” he said in astonishment.

“Wow,” Anya remarked from her left. “Did you study dirty talking too? That was very impressive.”

Buffy whined wordlessly, and realized the vibrator was still halfway up her pussy, buzzing away, driving her back up to a peak of arousal. Her body flushed red, her heart raced quickly. They were watching her, she was naked, legs spread, and they’d been watching her plunge a vibrator into her wet and dripping slit, while begging for all kinds of depraved things.

Xander was watching her. Xander, her owner, her friend, the man she trusted more than anyone else, was watching her do all these shameful things.

And she couldn’t stop. Her treacherous fingers continued to stroke the vibrator in and out, even as she stared at Xander in horror. Her other hand pinched her nipple hard, and she gasped, her eyes wide as she stared into his eyes.

“Buffy? Are you okay?”

“Xander,” she breathed. “I’m…I’m…”

She grunted, and his eyes flashed in her mind. She was his, and he was watching his naughty little slavegirl fuck herself in the middle of his apartment.

“I’m cumming!” And she was, because Buffy Summers could not lie to Xander Harris. She couldn’t lie to her owner, and that made it all the more beautiful.

Faith stared at her reflection. She saw a beautiful dark haired girl, eyes slightly puffy from crying, but otherwise undeniably gorgeous. She saw her neck made long and elegant from the thick collar around her neck, and traced the letters that were made backwards in the reflection. Property of Alexander Harris.

She squeezed her thighs together. Yeah. She belonged to him. Maybe it was a cosmic fuck up, maybe it wasn’t fair, but she belonged to him. And Xander, she suddenly realized, was going to take care of her. Was going to help her.

Would — could — might love her. Someday.

How that thought frightened her. How that compassion he showed her made her ache inside. How badly she wanted more of it.

Her clothes had reverted back to Anya’s borrowed ones, although she still had the collar and the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Faith rubbed her eyes in an attempt to remove the puffiness of her uncharacteristic crying, and then examined the cuffs on her wrists.

They were lined with a soft fuzzy material on the inside, which made them comfortable to wear, but the outer part was made of a thick metal that seemed stronger than steel, and fairly heavy. She could constantly feel the weight of the cuffs, not as anything terribly straining, but just a foreign heaviness that she wasn’t used to. Slayer strength wasn’t necessary to counter it.

Each cuff was a single piece, with no clasp or lock to it. There wasn’t even a seam where the metal might have been welded together. No, the cuff was obviously magical in origin, and had simply appeared on her body fully formed and impossible to remove.

Yet they had been removed, at times. Throughout the day she was having different garments and bonds appearing out of nowhere, from the nipple rings — she gave them a quick tug and let her eyes roll back at the exquisite feel — to the corset, boots, and spreader bar. All were gone now, save for the rings and the cuffs, but she knew they could return at any time.

That was part of the thrill. She never knew what might be next, or when it would occur. It wasn’t up to her. It was, she felt, up to Xander. He was the only one who had exhibited any kind of control over things. The original bondage she’d appeared in that morning had only vanished after he’d fu— after he’d made love to her. And the stiff and confining high-heeled boots she’d worn while cleaning had disappeared when he’d picked her up and carried her to the couch.

She smiled softly at the memory, and felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. God, she’d never felt anything like that before. Safe.

Loved.

It hurt more than a magical nipple ring ever could.

When she’d woken up and realized where she was, Faith had shed a few more silent tears. Smushed against one side of the couch with one arm around Anya and her face buried between her and Xander, Faith had felt so secure and cared for that she was sure she was having one of those evil, taunting dreams that had her in such a dark mood whenever she woke from them. The realization that it was real had stunned her.

A day with them, and she was completely at their mercy.

Faith sighed, splashed some water on her face, and took a deep breath. Soon she’d have to go back out there, and they would have to talk about what she was going to do next, what they were all going to do next. Xander had been talking about a heavy research session the next day. Would they want her to come, or would they ask her to stay at home again, maybe with Anya?

She wasn’t sure which she wanted.

Then she realized she thought of the apartment as home, and her breath caught in her throat. Panic suffused her, and she sat on the edge of the tub, breathing heavily.

This wasn’t home. She didn’t have home. She just had a cell.

That was when she knew she had to do something about this, before she dangled a hope in front of herself that she could never embrace. She had to go back to prison. It was her duty.

She left the bathroom with a solemn look on her face. Faith kept her eyes down as she asked, feeling oddly shameful about the request. Xander was quick to allay her fears, and ushered her into his bedroom, sitting her down on the bed. He told her to take as long as she liked, and gave her a friendly smile as he left, closing the door behind him.

A half-second later he opened it again.

“Hey, you like fried chicken?” he asked.

Faith frowned at him. “What?”

“Fried chicken. I’m running out to this place that has 24 hour fried chicken. Great for people on Slayer schedules. I guarantee if you don’t already like it, you will after this.”

“Yeah, chicken’s cool.”

His smile seemed to force one on her face as well. “Great! That gives me an excuse to get the jumbo size bucket.” He gestured behind him. “Ahn’ll be out here if you, uh, need anything, and I’ll be back in like twenty minutes.”

It was oddly touching that he thought to tell her that, and she nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem. And, uh…good luck.” He gave her the thumbs up, then seemed to realize he was being a little stupid, and grinned sheepishly before closing the door behind him.

Faith stared at the door for a few minutes, half-expecting him to come bursting back in at any moment, and finding that she hoped he would. She didn’t feel quite so alone when he was there, grinning that grin and making his silly jokes.

For one wild moment she wanted to go run after him, and ask him to be there when she called. Hold her hand. Give her courage.

But she didn’t, and instead picked up the phone with a trembling hand. Dialing the number from memory, she took a deep breath, trying to force the tremor out of her lungs. She had to stay calm.

It rang eight times before someone picked up.

“Angel Investigations,” said a cheery voice. “We hope the helpless. I mean, we help the hopeless.”

“Uh, yeah,” Faith said. “Angel there?”

The cheery voice paused. “Faith?”

Faith coughed nervously. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“Hold on,” Cordelia Chase replied, her tone growing colder. Faith heard the rustling sound of a phone being covered, and thanks to Slayer hearing, could hear Cordelia whispering harshly to someone that Faith was on the phone. “I thought we didn’t have to deal with her anymore,” she could hear Cordelia hissing.

A moment later came more rustling, and then Angel’s somber voice came on the line. “Faith.”

“Angel,” she said. “Hey.”

“How are you?” he asked. “Is everything all right?”

“Not really sure. You, uh, you catch the news lately?”

There was a brief pause. “Wesley’s watching it now. Why?”

“I’m uh, I’m out.”

Another pause. “Out?”

“Of prison.”

“Oh,” Angel said. “Yeah. So?”

Faith blinked. “So?”

“Yeah. What’s the problem? Is Xander treating you bad? I’ll come knock some sense into him if you want.” Faith almost grinned at the eagerness in his voice. Then she frowned.

“How’d you know I was with Xander?”

“Um, because of the court order?”

The frown deepened. “Court order? What court order?”

“Faith, are you okay?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. Just, just tell me about the court order.”

“Um, okay, but you were there, you know.”

“Humor me.”

“Is this a memory thing? Do you have amnesia? You’d be surprised how often that ha—”

“Yeah,” Faith said, getting a little annoyed. “I’m a little out of it, so could you just tell me what happened?”

“Boy,” he huffed. “Amnesia makes you grumpy.”

Great. She’d caught him on one of his silly days. Faith would have never guessed that Angel could get into these moods where he would tease and playfully jab at people, but it seemed that even he couldn’t brood twenty-four/seven.

“All right,” Angel sighed. “Uh, well it was kind of a strange ruling, actually. Wolfram and Hart was in an uproar over it, said it wasn’t technically legal and all that, but it went through and stood up on appeal.”

“What was it?”

“Well the judge, Judge Hanover, said that he was going to enact a special sentence adjustment due to a few extenuating circumstances, not to mention good behavior. He said that uh, your mental state at the time of the…”

“Murders.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “At the time of the murders was uh, bad. He said you’d been through some traumatic experiences, and seeing as how you were a minor at the time and had been exposed to, as he said, ‘dark situations’ that he was going to give you a break. Personally, I think he knew you were the Slayer, and knew some of what happened in Sunnydale. He kept giving Wolfram and Hart these serious looks whenever he talked about dark situations.”

Faith remembered none of this. She furrowed her brow, and listened.

“Anyway, um, the order was that you be released from prison but placed under the direct supervision and legal guardianship of a law abiding citizen. They’d be, you know, in charge of you until your next parole hearing in a couple of years, where they’d look at your progress and see if you could be released under your own supervision.”

“So…I’m free?” Faith asked. Her eyes flicked to a picture of Anya and Xander on the nightstand, and stared at the two of them as she spoke. “I’m out?”

“Technically, I guess. I mean, Xander’s in charge of what happens to you, but other than that, yeah.”

“Xander,” Faith whispered.

“Yeah.”

“How’d they know to pick Xander?” she wondered aloud.

“Uh, they didn’t. You told them to.”

Faith said nothing for a few moments.

“Faith? You there?”

“Yeah. I told them to give me to Xander?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Why?”

“Well, uh, we all talked about it for a while. He, um, he was the only person you knew that you thought you could trust.”

“What about you?”

“Angelus,” Angel said simply. Faith sighed and nodded.

“I was a little surprised when you brought him up. You asked me if I thought he was serious when he went to try and help you.”

“What’d you say?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why… why he owns me?”

Angel grumbled. “Technically. Why? Is everything okay over there? He’s not lording it over you or anything, is he?”

“No,” Faith whispered, feeling her eyes watering again. “No, he’s being…” She shut her eyes tightly, and had to stop speaking.

“Oh,” Angel said quietly. “Th-That’s good.”

“Yeah,” she breathed.”

“Faith, what’s this memory thing? Are you sure you’re all right?”

She swallowed, and nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “It’s nothing. Just uh, a little thing with the hellmouth. It’s not a big deal.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll…I’ll tell you about it later, okay? But it— it might be…” She took another big breath. “It might be really good.”

“Okay,” he said seriously. “But if anything’s wrong, you can call me anytime, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Hey Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

She smiled sadly. “Not really.”

“Well I am. You deserve this. Really. You’re working down the right path, and you can reach your goal someday. I know it seems like you never can, but I think you can. We don’t lead ordinary lives.”

She snorted. “That’s for damn sure.”

“Just keep working at it,” he assured her. “It can get better. Things can be different.”

“I know,” she whispered, reaching out to pick up the framed photograph. She rubbed her thumb across Xander’s face, staring at him, at his eyes.

“Good luck, Faith.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Angel. I-I mean it.”

“Anytime.”

They didn’t say goodbye. They never said goodbye. Angel just hung up the phone, and Faith hung it up a moment later. Then she sighed, and let herself drop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She was out. Free, and no one expected her to go back. In fact, they wanted her to do what she’d been so afraid she wouldn’t get to do. They wanted her to stay with Xander.

How? How had it happened? Why didn’t she remember it? This whole thing was supposed to be one big mistake, so how had things altered to fit her into the equation?

She shook her head, and decided not to question it. Instead, she took a deep breath, and for a brief moment, allowed herself to envision a future where the tiny foundation that Xander had laid down was allowed to flourish. She tried to imagine getting that love and acceptance every day.

And despite all the efforts of every dark part of her, she simply couldn’t imagine him ever abusing that acceptance, or betraying her trust. It just wasn’t in him. It just wasn’t in those eyes.

Faith lay there for some time, staring up into the darkness in Xander’s bedroom, trying to determine what her life would be like from now on. In a single day, it had changed more than she could have ever imagined.

Closing her eyes, she wondered about Buffy. Was Buffy feeling the same way? Did her stomach flutter at the notion of being with Xander, or even with Anya? Did she have not only the desires to do all sorts of kinky things, but also to simply give herself to Xander? Did Buffy crave that love and acceptance the way Faith did?

What would things be like between them? Both as the property, the slaves of Xander Harris. They were enemies, Buffy and Faith. Rivals of the worst sort, and each had tried to kill the other more than once. Only in Faith’s case, she deserved to be killed. Buffy had not only beaten her time and time again, but she’d constantly been in the right when doing so.

Maybe she couldn’t make it up to Buffy.

But maybe, and this was the thought that made her smile, maybe Xander could help her to. Maybe Xander could give her the strength to make it up to Buffy, and tell her, like she’d told Xander, just how sorry she was.

Faith smiled, and pictured Buffy Summers in her head. The long golden hair, the cutely crooked nose, the petite form and fit body, the kissable lips and deep blue-green eyes. Sighing, she reached up to tweak her nipple, and groaned as she imagined her and Buffy both wearing the leather and corseted maid’s uniform, kneeling in front of Xander, and awaiting his desire. In her head, he looked down at her, and smiled that wonderfully trusting, beautiful smile. And in his eyes, she saw the Difference.

Then she heard a squealing voice cry out, “I’m cumming!” and snapped out of her fantasy. Excitement building quickly within her, Faith got up, and silently moved to the door. As she did so, she was momentarily blinded by the flashing light that she was growing fairly familiar with. There she stood in those high platformed heels, although luckily the boots came up to just below her knee this time. The corset was back, but the maid’s uniform was gone. Instead, she wore a simple lacy black thong, garters, and stockings. Only the top of the corset covered her breasts. On either hip of the corset was a thick metal ring that went through the rings on her wrist cuffs, securing her arms to her sides. The chain between her nipple rings was back as well, glittering gently in the near total darkness.

Licking her lips, Faith twisted her body to align her left hip with the doorknob, and managed to get her fingers around it, twisting it open. She nudged the door open with her toe, and stepped out into the living room.

Xander was at one end of the table. Anya was at the other. And on the table itself were three large bags of fried chicken, several plates and glasses, and a completely nude Buffy Summers, panting in orgasmic exhaustion, with a vibrator shoved up her cunt.

Shrugging, Faith walked carefully into the room, balancing on her platformed heels, and stepped beside Xander. He glanced at her, gave her a blushing once-over, and then let out an almost comical sigh.

“Why do I think I’m never going to get used to this?” he asked, looking between the two Slayers in apparent despair. He took a deep breath, and let it out before looking at Buffy, who seemed unable to work up the willpower to move. “Buff, you think we could have our table back? I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

Buffy swallowed, and slowly sat up. Xander stepped forward to offer her a hand, which she took, despite shaking slightly. She hissed an inward breath when his other hand touched the bare skin of her back to help get her off the table.

“We should probably start keeping some clothes of hers here,” Anya remarked as she looked at Buffy’s naked ass. “If she’s going to keep showing up naked.”

Buffy whimpered and buried her face into Xander’s chest, as an ostrich would bury their head in the sand. Xander stiffened at a naked Buffy clinging to him, and then patted her gently on the back.

“There there?” he shrugged, unsure of what to say.

“I’m going to die,” Faith heard Buffy whisper against him. Xander frowned and looked down.

“Figuratively, right?” he asked, staring down at the petite blonde Slayer with concern. “Cause I’ll order you not to die right now if I have to, Missy.”

Buffy managed an embarrassed grin at that, and nodded slightly. “I can’t believe you… saw that. That I did that.”

“What? Masturbate?” Anya said, brazenly. “Xander masturbates all the time! Why would he care if you did?”

Xander groaned. “Thanks, Anya.”

She beamed at him. “You’re welcome.”

Faith stifled a grin, and although she lowered her head, glanced up more than once to ogle Buffy’s incredibly tight, naked body. She licked her lips, and felt a delicious heat in her pussy as she pressed her thighs together. Then she glanced at Xander, who offered her a tiny smile.

She smiled back, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. She decided that maybe, for a little while, it would be okay if she just let herself feel happy.

Just for a little while.