The Night The Devil Dogs Died

Pairing: Faith/Buffy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these Characters, nor do I make any money from writing this.

Summary: Faith never cared about her own Prom, but she's strangely attracted to Buffy's.


Whoa, Buffy just broke that evil dog-thing's neck, just like that! I mean, I'm pretty sure I could do it too if I had to, but damn - that was wicked hot!

What are those things anyway? Some kind of demon mutt? They don't look like Oz; more like the hounds of the Baskervilles on steroids. Guess it doesn't matter now they're dead.

I know I'm pushing my luck coming to this place - this school is full of people that want me deported in chains - but when I saw B tear-assing over here I had to check it out.

Buffy's prom is tonight. I can hear it just the other side of the big, double Gym doors. The ones Buffy's still sprawled in front of, panting. And some loser in evening wear just came out looking for the bathroom. I bet B's real pissed she's missing it to slay. I'd take slaying anytime over a cheesy high school dance, but me and B, we're worlds different.

The princess is up now and she's got that cute confused look going on. I know exactly what she's thinking: 'Now what do I do with them?' Answers pretty damn obvious B. I see her look around the deserted hallway until inspiration strikes. There ya go.

Inspiration is striking me too.

Slipping back to the front of school, I grab the bag Buffy discarded when she went for another of those demons out here. I know she killed it 'cause I checked before going inside, but I'm looking around and... Well its not here now.

I go back in cautiously in case anyone else is about, but the halls are still empty. The only difference being the door to the equipment cupboard is slightly open now when it was closed before.

Grinning, I walk up to it fast and then I'm through the door and into the cupboard. I drop her bag by my feet before pulling the cord for the light.

Buffy, squarely in the middle of the room, spins to me, fists raised. She doesn't relax at all when she sees it's me, but she does lower her offensive just a little.

"Faith!" My name comes out like a hiss. "What are you doing here?"

I shrug, casual as can be, and close the door behind me.

I can still hear music coming from the big room next door and I'm betting all the little kids are dancing their hearts out.

"I came for the party, B."

She turns from me now and drags the dead dog thing more to the back of the cupboard. "I don't think you'll be very welcome somehow."

Its true and it hurts, but I thrive on this kinda pain. It makes me meaner, darker stronger and I'm fine with that. Although sometimes it's not enough.

"What, are you not pleased to see me?" I know I sound cocky but truthfully I never know what answer to expect when I ask this. Buffy's mind changes with her moods. Often, in other words.

She doesn't answer at all. Which is better than an outright no, I guess.

She's still looking at the thing she just killed.

I lean back against the door and cross my ankles and my arms. "So, you going to the party now the duty thing is done?"

"That's the plan." Buffy looks at me again, finally. "You've put on weight."

Bitch!

"Yeah, well, we can't all be scrawny little stick insects like you."

"God Faith, it wasn't a criticism! You look good is what I meant."

She looks sincere, and a little pissed at the scrawny insect comment. What's she playing at now? I don't really care; I have my own game planned for tonight.

"Guess I'm just finally getting enough to eat for once in my life," I'm going for sarcastic, but I think it's coming out bitter, "The whole food thing must be agreeing with me."

She just stares at me. She knows if she gives me any pity I'll throw it straight back at her, and she won't give me that chance. "Yeah, well, like I said, you look good. Now I have to go get changed. Be careful on your way out; I don't want my friends hassling me about why you're still conscious."

And let the games begin.

"Change here."

Her face goes carefully blank and I wish I could lock the door in case she wants to bolt, but we're in a cupboard and they don't have locks on the inside. I'm not moving from the door anyhow and that's almost as good as a lock.

"No."

It's okay, I was expecting that. "Why not?"

She looks about her and gestures. "We're in a cupboard."

"So what? It's big enough." I gesture about me too. "It's got a mirror." I point to the dusty full length mirror leaning against a pile of gym mats. That's actually a bonus, I didn't expect there to be one in here.

She looks at it frowning.

"It's got a sink," I add.

Its one of the big ones you can fill a bucket up in, but so what? A sink is a sink, surely.

"I don't have my stuff. I dropped it."

I push her bag towards her with my foot. "There ya go."

Her frown remains as we stand in silence for about thirty seconds and then she sorta smiles. "You've thought of everything."

Wow, I didn't expect her to cave so quickly, if at all. Looks like my luck is finally in. Or not.

She shakes her head. "But I'm still not getting changed for Senior Prom in a cupboard with a furry Hellhound stinkfest at my feet. Sorry." She picks up her bag and waits for me to move.

I almost do, but then a movement from the dead dog draws my attention and hers.

"Damn, I thought it was dead," she mutters as it starts trembling. Looking to me again, she asks: "Got a knife on you?"

"Nope. You still have it, remember? And anytime you wanna give it back is fine with me."

She drops the bag again and goes to finish the mutt off with her bare hands as she answers me.

"And I told you: You can have it back when you stop with this 'I'm all evil' malarkey."

I just chuckle as she bends down to grab the demon and it turns into an all-out laugh as the thing gives one last big shudder and disintegrates into nothing, not even any dust left.

Buffy is staring at where it was in surprise. "Okay," is all she says before straightening up again.

I lean back on the door. "Guess you can get changed in here after all, B, now the big ol' stinky dog is gone."

I'm still chuckling, waiting for it to make her mad, but it doesn't.

"Faith," she says it too calmly to be any fun, "can you not just perve on me some other time?"

"Buffy," I say just as calmly, "humor me."

She sighs big and tries to look put upon, but her eyes are shining and she's fighting a smile as she lifts her bag onto the gym horse.

Unzipping it, she pulls out a satiny-looking dusky-pink dress. It looks expensive and I guess it is. Joyce woulda forked out big time for her little girl's Senior Prom. She hangs the dress from a hook on the wall; it's still covered in plastic so all the dust in this cupboard ain't going to hurt it.

"I should probably be taking another shower."

I assume she's speaking to me, but she could be speaking to someone in her bag, 'cause that's where she's still focused.

"Well if you wanna." I shrug. "I don't mind taking the time to watch that too."

She shakes her head. "No. Once we leave this cupboard, you have to go." She pulls off her sweater. "Promise me."

Damn, she timed that just right. I'd promise her just about anything when she's giving me that little pouty look in her bra.

"No problem, B. Not like I wanna be your date to the prom or nothing." 'Cause if I did, then I'd be in trouble.

She's at the sink, running a little water so she can give her face a wash. "No, nobody wants to be my date to the prom."

Whoa - someone's feeling bitter.

"I'm pretty sure, Blondie, that most of the guys out there right now woulda given their right hands to take you."

She chuckles, but that sounds bitter too. "Just not the ones I want."

Ones? As in more than one? As in more than Angel?

Finished with her splashing, she walks back towards me, but stops a good two feet away.

She's grinning. "Ready?"

Ready? I'm still trying to work out who the other one might be. Right up until she drops her pants anyhow.

She kicks them off her feet as she turns away to rummage again in her bag. My eyes run up and down her body as she pulls out a few essentials; quickly applying some deodorant and a few squirts of perfume. I breathe in deeply and even from two feet away it sends me light-headed.

Grinning, I think that maybe it has plenty to do with B in her underwear as well.

She reaches around to undo her bra and lets it slide off her arms enough so she can catch it in one hand and put it in her bag. I hold my breath as she deftly pushes her panties off her ass and down her legs. She kicks them away like she did her pants and delves into her bag again.

I lick my lips and issue an instruction. "Give me a twirl."

She has a big ass grin on her face as she answers coyly. "I'm supposed to do that after I put the dress on."

"So consider it a practice run."

She bites her lip to hide the grin, but its still there as she rolls her eyes and spins around on the spot, giving me an eyeful of everything, but way too quick.

"Again."

When she stops looking in her bag to turn her head towards me there's a battle between amusement, annoyance and arousal going on. This is definitely the trademark of our relationship. Yeah, I said relationship. At least, it's the closest I ever came to one.

I'm not actually sure which one wins as she turns to fully face me again and just stands there, letting me look at whatever I want.

Obviously at first my eyes head straight down to her bush, drifting up occasionally as high as her chest before dropping below her navel again and for a second I feel like I'm watching a tennis match, one where the ball is going up and down instead of from side to side. Eventually, maybe inevitably, my gaze goes up some more and meets her own.

We both wet our lips at the same time as we stand there staring into each others eyes.

"Do you wanna..?"

She shakes her head; breaking my sentence and the trance we're both in. "Prom."

"Oh yeah." Fuck. Now I kinda wish I was taking her. "You could head out with me instead. We could have our own prom in my old motel room."

She smiles softly. "I really kinda wanna go to this one."

"Okay." She picks up her pants and shoves them in her bag, and I make myself busy looking at her ass. "You said ones."

"Huh?"

"Dates you wanted for Prom, plural. Who's the other guy?"

She looks briefly over her shoulder at me. "Don't play dumb."

I didn't think I was, but then I read beyond the words and get the look in her eye and then it's my turn to say...

"Huh." And then, "Really? Why the hell for?"

"Why the hell not? I'm not saying I would have nominated us for Prom king and queen, but then I wouldn't have nominated Angel and I either. It just would have been nice to share tonight with someone important..." she looks down into her bag for a moment, before looking over her shoulder at me again. "...someone special."

She pulls a fresh bra from her bag, one a lot flimsier and fancy looking than the one she discarded. I'd probably give it my seal of approval, but for some reason I'm too stunned by what she's saying to even perve on the hot little bare ass right in front of me.

That thing about being in trouble... yeah, I think trouble just caught up with me again.

"But," she continues as she puts the bra on. "One of my special someone's just broke up with me and the other one thinks she's evil, so I'm doing my mother proud and going stag tonight."

I concentrate on the valuable part of that heartfelt mini-speech. "So you're single now?"

She pulls the dress over her head and my attention shifts as I check it out. I whistle, long and low, and she blushes which is just so freakin' cute it should make me sick... and right now I'm actually wishing it still gave me that impulse.

"Yes."

I've almost forgotten the question she's answering. Wait, I got it, she's single, no Angel... finally no freakin' Angel. I don't wait to be asked before walking forward and zipping her up.

"Thanks." Her voice is barely above a murmur. She has a brush in her hand and I take it from her. "What are you doing?"

"Figured I'd give you a spanking, B, you up for that?" I smirk over her shoulder into the mirror.

She just chuckles, which makes me roll my eyes, which then brings out a girly-giggling in her. Jeez, if anyone could see us now. I start to pull the brush gently through her hair and she stands with her eyes closed, a little smile on her lips again.

"So... if I asked, and just to be clear this all just hypothetical, but if I did ask... Would you have agreed to go to the Prom with me?"

"Guess we'll never know now, will we."

"Okay, so say I'm asking now."

"Oh, in that case the answer's easy...No."

Her hair is about as perfect and shiny as its going to get, so I stop with the brushing and give her a sharp tap on the ass with the back of it.

"Faith!" Her breath rushes out and her eyes fly open, full of disbelief. Yeah, so I did it kinda hard, but she can take it.

"What? I told you I was gonna do it."

With a little bemused head shake, she goes back to the bag and pulls out her make up bag.

"So all that about wanting to share it with someone special and then giving me the big doe eyes, you never meant any of it, you just wanted me to make a fool outta myself asking, right?"

Again there's that twinge of hurt, but I can respect her methods all the same. Truth is, I just wish I had that kinda leverage over her, but my new career path and not letting her know I care are the only barrels I can hold her over.

And by showing an interest in her stupid school dance, I'm pretty sure I just lost one of those barrels.

I watch as she puts on lipstick, mascara, a little of this, a little of that.

"You want me to kiss it better?" She knows I mean her butt.

"Maybe later." Happy with herself, she turns back to me. "Am I prom-worthy?"

It's my turn to not answer.

"I meant it!" She sounds pissed off for the first time since I cornered her in here. "Okay? I meant the sharing it with someone special, I meant the doe eyes, I meant it all. I would love to walk into the Gym with you right now, scruffy jeans and t-shirt and all. I would love to drink the punch you would no doubt spike with you, I'd like to mock the crappy award ceremony with you, I'd like to have a goofy picture taken under the scary big heart arch thingy with you and I'd even probably be able to get up the nerve to slow dance right out in the middle of the floor to every cheesy eighties ballad they're gonna play with you."

That sounds like a whole lot more than I thought I was signing up for, but I can't back out now so I nod my head at the door.

"Well, if Angel's really out of the picture what are we waiting for?"

"I can't fraternize with the enemy."

I grin. "Since when?"

She looks deadly serious. "I can't be seen fraternizing with the enemy. The whole gang's in there, including Wesley, even if I was prepared to explain why I'm still... doing whatever it is we're doing with you after you tried to strangle Xander and held a knife to Willow's throat, he'd probably have the Watcher's Council swooping in here like a SWAT team and I'd really like to not remember my last Prom for that reason."

I nod. "I guess."

It wouldn't be great for me either, come to think of it. I know the Boss has minions here tonight. Strictly recon, no snacking. Vamps pretending to be parental supervision to keep an eye on the Slayer's little do-gooder cub scouts.

If I get seen skulking around in the shadows here none of them are gonna find it weird, but if I'm spotted dancing, or even just getting along with Buffy, then awkward questions are gonna get asked.

"You could," she begins hopefully, "always stop being the enemy. You know, like, right now? That way we could go in there together and I could argue your case without putting myself on the wrong side."

I look down at her bare feet. "I don't need you arguing my case to them. I don't even want you trying."

"Well, you've gone too far to hope they'll turn a blind eye. And, sorry, but I can't have an evil girlfriend. They'll get all bitchy and interventiony. It's a big unfun for everyone involved."

"Girlfriend?"

She nods and my tongue is broken. Won't move. All I can do is make a soft 'uhhh' sound.

She shrugs and it's still hard to tell just how much this is bothering her. If it even is. Sometimes it sounds like well-meaning bullshit intended to coax me back into line, sometimes it sounds like she needs me back on her side to stop her world from crumbling at the edges. Sometimes it feels like a fist, usually because those times it is a fist.

This time it sounds like she's pissed off with me for ruining prom night for her even though I only just this minute found out she wasn't going with her undead lover boy. Like me switching sides really affects her big high school dance one way or the other. Like if I was still playing on the side of the SuperFriends she would have been all upfront about us screwing behind their backs for months.

She nods; my silence apparently her answer. "Then I should probably get out there."

She takes some sandals out of her bag, slips them on and then hands the bag to me. "You couldn't take this back to mine, could you?"

I shrug. "Sure." Smirking, I look down at the only item not yet put in the bag. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

She tries that all innocent look, but her eyes are doing the shining thing again. "No, what?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Panties, B."

"I can't wear any with this dress, Faith, unless I want serious panty-lines."

"So it's nothing to do with you forgetting to pack any fresh, and the ones you were wearing being uncomfortably wet?" I'm still smirking, but she's not particularly fazed.

"Well, Faith," She bends down to pick the panties off the floor, "I guess that's for me to know and for you to find out."

She covers the ground between us until she's so close I can feel the material of her dress brushing my knuckles.

"And just how am I supposed to find...?"

Her lips on mine cut off my words, but they're gone again before I can kiss her back.

"After-party in your old motel room. I'll save you the last dance." I feel her push something into the pocket of my jeans, as she whispers: "Later, baby," against my lips and then leaves me alone in the cupboard.

I lean once more on the door after she's slipped out, and let out a frustrated sigh. God-damn; the things that chick can do to me with barely a touch! I pull free whatever was in my pocket and realize it's her panties.

Shoulda guessed that.

Lightly I press a finger to the material that would have been right between her legs.

I knew it!

Feeling like the Cheshire cat, I push the panties back into my pocket; ready to leave the cupboard with Buffy's bag. A part of me wants to stay in there for the night, close to the action, hearing the same songs she's dancing to, being on hand to follow her if she goes to the bathroom alone.

I'm not gonna though, 'cause that'd make me a complete sap and enough time in this cupboard thinking about how I could be out there with her is just gonna make me do something stupid; probably the kinda stupid that's gonna play right into her hands and get me eaten by my giant snake boss at Graduation.

So I don't. A quick glance both ways shows no one I know in the hall so I hot-foot it outta there, just like I promised. I can dump her bag on her Mom's porch, make a trip to the mall before it closes to steal a camera, some arts and crafts shit, some punch mix and an eighties love song CD and then swing by my apartment for my stereo, the family sized bottle of vodka I keep in the fridge and a change of clothes before this lame party ends.

I might be too evil to take Buffy to her high school prom, but that's cool, 'cause she's about to see the benefits of having a wicked after-party.


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