What You Need
by Rebecca Parker
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Joss and Mutant Enemy own all.
Spoilers: "The Gift".
Improv: False * Pallor * Spice * Reckless.
Dedication: To Jen'fr, who I hope I didn't let down too much with
this story.
She's like rain on my face- cool and refreshing. She awakes me from my slumber and I roll over, the damp grass clinging to my sides as I look up at her.
"Good morning," she says in that familiar voice of hers. That voice has been in my head a thousand times, but it's never been more real. I can feel the hairs on my arm stand on end. I can almost feel my heartbeat race inside my chest as the sound of her voice floats past my ears.
"Buffy?" I ask, looking up at her. I ask the question as if I'm not sure it's really her, but a part of me knows it really is. Unfortunately, the other part knows it can't be.
Buffy has been dead for three months now, and I've been in prison for over a year. There ain't exactly fields of green in prison, but I feel those blades of grass pressing against my elbow as I lean on it to look up and see her nod.
"It's me," she says, sitting down next to me and letting her hand move across a bare patch of the green earth. She looks down, watching as her fingers entwine in the grass, and she picks a flower from it.
Damned if I didn't see a flower there before. "Nice," I say, smiling at her, a bit unsure. "Wheredya get it from?"
"The ground," she says, looking down again as her hand comes to rest on my lap. "Spend a lot of time there lately." She looks up at me, smiling. "It's not so bad."
I look up at the sky, squinting my eyes at the brightness. Despite everything, it's only when I look up at the purple sky that I know this is a dream. Of course. It has to be.
"You're not real," I say, my voice tinted with sadness.
She shakes her head at me. "I'm always real," she says. "I'm always a part of you."
I chuckle. "You've even got that cheesy dialogue goin' in my dreams, B." I take the flower from her and smell it. "Smells good. Like-" I say, trailing off as I try to place the exact smell.
"Vanilla," she answers. "Like me."
"Ya never smelled like vanilla," I say, trying desperately to remember if that was true. She sometimes smelled like apples and cinnamon spice and I would always close my eyes and dream of taking a bite.
"You never smelled me close enough," she says, scooting closer to me on the grass, her hand still on my lap.
"I'm dreaming," I say, and she nods again. I don't know whether to be pissed that this is the only chance I'll ever really get to be near her again, or grateful that I at least get the chance. "Why B? Whydya do it?"
"Shh," she says, reaching up and brushing the hair back from my face. "Is that really what you want to talk about?"
"No," I say, but my words ring false. I just want to know why. You've got a lot of time to think in prison, and not a lot of answers to find.
"Good," she says, and moves even closer to me. "I have things I want to tell you- things I want to show you."
"Show me?" I ask, looking into those soft green eyes of hers. She looks so alive, so real. I can almost close my eyes and think that this is more than a dream. Almost.
But the pallor of her skin gives her away, and I move my hand to caress her soft cheek. She's so cold, and I frown.
"Hey," she says, leaning in and kissing my lips ever so delicately; so softly I almost think I imagined it. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Be sad," she answers. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"No." She isn't. Not really. But this is the closest I'll ever get to having her, and I want to make it last. I want to be happy. "Whatcha got to show me?" I ask her, trying desperately to change the subject. I have all my life to be miserable- in my dreams I want to lose myself in her.
"I already did," she says, and I'm all sorts of confused.
"I musta missed it, B," I say, shrugging and she smiles. "Gonna show me again?"
"If you want me to," she says, leaning in close again and I can feel her hot breath against my skin and instantly, I understand her. "Gonna kiss me again?" I ask, staring into those eyes. "Didn't know ya were into that."
"You didn't know a lot of things, Faith," she says, closing the distance between us and softly pressing her lips against mine. I move my hands behind her, pulling her even closer to me and we fall back- but instead of grass, there's a bed; instead of a sky, a ceiling.
She moves her lips to my neck, nuzzling it gently and I sigh. Of everything in my life that I've ever wanted- my mother to hold me, my father to stop hitting me, to get half of the respect Buffy got, to get half of the love she did, to be good, to be free- I wanted this the most.
"Buffy," I mutter, moving my fingers to her blonde silken strands. "You wouldn't be doin' this if it wasn't my dream." Fuck. Why the hell did I say that? Why the hell can't I just shut up sometimes? I don't want to talk her out of this. I want to be passionate and reckless and do the things that even *I* didn't have the balls for in real life.
"Like I said," Buffy answers, looking up at me and smiling. "You don't know everything about me."
"Is that a fact?"
"Want me to prove it?" she asks me and I almost lose it right there. This may not be real, but it sure as hell feels it.
"I'm not gonna stop you." She gives me one of those sly smiles of hers and I shudder as she moves down my body, her hands lifting up my shirt and sliding against the warmth of my skin.
I start to close my eyes as I feel her undo the button of my pants, but I don't want to take my eyes off her. God only knows when I will ever see her again. It's been months since I dreamt of her, over a year since I touched her.
She pulls my pants down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor below us. I look over and, for the first time, I notice we're in her house, in her room back in Sunnydale. All of the sudden, everything becomes more special because I know this place was just that to her. To be with Buffy is one thing, to be with her in her own bed, another.
I'm suddenly aware of my nakedness before her and I take in a deep breath as I feel her fingers move past the elastic of my panties, pushing them down past my thighs. I start to say something and then her mouth is on me, her tongue moving slowly against me and I can feel my body start to heat up.
She's so fucking good, and I have to wonder if it's just because I'm imagining her this way or maybe something else. She was always good at everything else, why should this be any different?
She's tasting me, teasing me, and I can feel myself getting hotter and hotter. I shift my body under her and I feel her arms holding me down, her slayer strength pushing my legs to the floor as she moves her fingers inside of me. "Buffy," I mutter, and she moves her head up from between my legs and looks at me- just smiles at me knowingly and nods.
She returns to my core, pushing me forward and I begin to shake. No one could ever get me this close this fast, and I curse myself for my impatience. I want to make this last, want to have her here forever but my body betrays me and, as I feel her tongue move inside me, I lose control.
I shut my eyes as my back arches and I bite my lip so hard I nearly draw blood. She's up besides me in an instant, her hand still massaging the moisture between my legs as she returns her lips to mine. I roll myself over, my arms pulling her close to me and I wrap my legs over hers.
"So did I prove my point?" she asks, and I grin.
I laugh, kissing the nape of her neck. "I'd say so," I answer, my hands circling her belly button lazily. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," she answers, moving her body back so that she faces me again. "I always did. Faith, I said I wanted to give you something and it was more than just that."
"More?" I ask, grinning at her.
She smiles, and her face is suddenly so ethereal. "Yes. Close your eyes," she tells me and, without a moment's hesitation, I do.
I stare at the back of my eyelids and then I can feel her lips on mine once more, so soft, so tender. So perfect.
And then I'm awake, my eyes open and the harsh daylight pouring in from down the cellblock invading them.
She said she had something else to give me, and she was right- because although I no longer have her in my arms, I have her in my heart- and I feel loved.