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Disclaimers: I own nothing, Joss and the cardboard aliens own everything! I humble myself before him. I own not even the song lyrics, they belong to 3EB.

Summary: Faith reflects in a songfic for Buffy and Faith based on the Third Eye Blind tune "I Want You". R-ish, but then again, I'm never good at rating myself.

This was my first story involving Faith in any capacity. So be gentle! Feedback, constructive criticism, etc., can be sent to ressick@yahoo.com Archiving: Gary if he wants it, anyone else has to ask nice, 'kay?

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"I Want You"

by Ressick

...

No matter what anyone tells you, hitching in the back of a truck sucks. Not only does the thing smell like whatever it had been trucking, but you're sure to get thrown around a bit and sleep isn't, very simply, an option. And you have to listen to whatever music the driver wants, because you can't exactly go up to the cab and make requests. I've listened to so much country that if I even see a cowboy hat I have to puke.

I've seen suckers lose themselves in the games
They learn to play,
Children love to sing but then their voices,
Slowly fade away,

Third Eye Blind- well the guy has some taste. They aren't bad for mainstream alternative, and a couple people I know are practically obsessed with 'em. And their lyrics actually make sense, unlike those Nirvana people who you can't ever tell what they're singing. The only good thing about that "Looks Like Teen Spirit" video were the hot cheerleaders.

People always take a step away,
From what is true,

If anything, I'm truth girl most of the time. I deal with vampires and demons and various low-IQ critters all the time. And it sucks. Plus, I don't mind swirling about in the underbelly of humanity either. Boston had plenty of that, and even Sunnydale wasn't full of saints. God, Boston is someplace I haven't thought of in awhile. I was one of those lower-class supposed success stories: a spot at Boston Latin, 'upstanding' friends, a chance at some scholarships.

At least, that's what they told me when I was fourteen. They forgot to mention that all my upstanding friends were weekend alcoholic bingers, into Speed and E and pot, when they couldn't get their greedy upper-middle-class fingers on more potent stuff. I used to have great grammar, and an excellent vocabulary. I used to exude "poor genius". My tests were off the charts half the time but I couldn't afford a shirt at Walmart. So I followed the upstanding examples around me and shoplifted. You start small, that's the way it is. Boozing on weekends, sniffing glue a bit, pot smoking, but I wouldn't go for the harder stuff. My mom went for it, spent our welfare money on crack. I'd do enough to forget, and leave it at that.

That's why I like you around,
I want you,
Yeah you do,
you make me want you,

I haven't had a decent lay in months. Not since before that Xander guy. I screwed him, threatened Red, betrayed Buffy. So I guess I don't deserve a decent lay. I don't deserve anything. Y'know the genius thing has side effects. Hemingway was a drunken macho joke. Sylvia Plath killed herself. Einstein got the awful funky hair. I've got those damn low self esteem and trust issues. But nothing seems to keep me from falling in lust. I'd say love, if I believed I was capable of it. No, I just wanna screw her.

An open invitation to the dance,
Happenstance set the vibe that we are in,

My Watcher showed up before I could even go to my prom. I spent the night watching a huge mob of vampires tear his insides out right before my eyes. Poor little Faith, watched a decent guy get gutted. So I left, checked out of the cheap motel he'd put me up in after visiting my house once. And got asked to a dance at a high school by the most gorgeous girl there. Of course, she only asked as my friend. But still, it was a high.

No apology because my urge is genuine,
And the mystery of your rhythm is so feminine,

Grinding- and there's no other word for such a carnal grooving dance beat- is not something I would have thought she'd done, least of all with me. But there we were, the Chosen Two, grinding at the shoddy half-excuse for a club that the little Scooby gang frequented. I could smell her...

Here I am and I want to take a hit,
Of your scent and it bit,
So deep into my soul,
I want you,
You do you do,
you make me want you,

I prayed that entire time that I could keep looking over at her and not betray myself by kissing her right there. All that jasmine and salt-sweat, clouding my senses. The heat she put off, the sensual twisting. Buffy can sure dance, take everything from within herself, every longing and desire, and translate it into movement.

Send me all your vampires,
And I can't get enough,
And I can't get enough,

I couldn't play second banana- the other slayer, Faith the fifth wheel. So I jetted over to the dark side like there was no tomorrow. At least they appreciated me. And that psycho in Mayor's clothing gave me something no one else had before: unconditional love. I was his little death's angel, ready to make a kill at a moment's beck and call. I hated myself for that, but he loved me, in his own mixed-up, wacko nutcase invincible evil-guy way. Still, I couldn't get enough of B. I'd follow her, with my mock tough-girl attitude, like a damn puppy, watching her slay my boss's own little minion-types. She's the kind of girl you're drawn to, like a moth to a flame. If the boss ever sent too many vamps against her, I'd take care of the extra, from the shadows.

The village church yard is filled with,
Bones weeping in the grave,
The silver lining of clouds shines,
On people Jesus couldn't save,

I think I need to count myself among those damned idiots and murderers and fools. I had something so good- friends, someone to care for even if it was only platonic, a life- but I fucked it all up. Then I had to go and screw it up again. They already hated me, and I had to play with them- especially Red, who's got the perfect best friend. She's so nice, so forgiving, that I don't know how she does it. I hate her for being so much like who I want to be. Now I don't go for the frumpy-cute clothes, or the computer stuff, but just that eternal child's optimism thrown into a girl who's seen a lot of demons, vampires, death in general. So I screwed with her little blond pal, flustered the girl so bad she couldn't even think straight- not like she was thinking straight thoughts before, but you get my drift. If those two didn't get together soon, I thought then, someone was gonna have to do something drastic. But it wouldn't be me. Buffy hated me too much, for sleeping with her little real life GI Joe. I don't understand what she saw in him. He sure as hell had no idea what he's doing in bed.

You want to know how deeply my soul goes,
Deeper than bones,
I want you,
And I can't get enough,

Damnit! I was sitting in the back of some damn truck hoping against hope that we'll make it out of Sunnydale soon. One song into the ride and I was already wanting to go back and get on my knees and beg forgiveness from the one person in the world who has the most reason to stick a knife in my gut, again.

She wanted me to be her friend. She wanted me to be the other half of the Chosen Two. She wanted me to be there, a part of her life. And I couldn't pull that off. There weren't too many demands on me before I had to screw it up. Because I'm not good enough for the life she offered. I never was, never will be. My damn crack addict mother was right.

After we did it by the window sill,
Smoke rings drift into the midnight sky,
Presently in the quilt that your mother made,
And a candle burns to fight off the gloom,

Once, once, we almost kissed. Almost, nearly, came to within an inch of our lips pressing when that damn vamp decided to play "fuck with the Slayers". We never spoke of it, there was never a repeat of the situation. She'd hold me through my nightmares, and keep me as much in the Scooby gang as she could, but it wasn't enough. So I went and screwed her over as much as possible, especially during the body swap incident.

I said to live this way is not for the meek,

So then I was heading back towards Sunnyhell, like a good little Slayer. I didn't know what the hell I was going to do, or how I was going to keep from getting killed or arrested, but it didn't seem to matter much. I'd fucked up everything so badly that I would might as well do something useful before I said goodbye to this life of mine.

The graveyard hadn't changed much, just more graves, more newly rising vamps. I staked a couple, for the hell of it, before I ran into her.

"Faith," she said, her voice full of that quiet rage that usually spells ass kicking in the future for whoever she's pissed at.

"Hey, B," I said, not really knowing what else to think. That damn song was still with me, too, even though I ditched my ride over an hour before.

But you talk real soft and kiss me on the cheek,

She walked up to me, kissed me fiercely, then slapped my face so hard I knew it'd show for a while. "How dare you come back here," she hissed, then did an abrupt about-face and went to leave. "You're lucky I don't try and kill you now," she threw that one over her shoulder.

And like a jazz DJ you talk me into sleep,
There will be no regrets when the worms come,
And they will surely come,

I didn't let her go, I grabbed her arm and tilted my head down to kiss her again, softly, tenderly, with as much as what I think is called love as I could muster. She broke away, confusion plain in her eyes, and looked deep into mine. She must have seen something there, because then she kissed me again, without the fierceness. My bet, gamble, paid off. We stood there kissing for what must have been forever. And later, when I made love- yeah, me, I made love- to her, I knew that somehow this was forever, and that I was glad I had decided not to live with regrets, but at least try with her.

You do you do,
I want you,
Send me all your vampires, I want you...

We've been together for a year now. And every time I see her, I still want her so much it hurts. We're back, the Chosen Two, better than ever. And when we go on double dates with Red and Tara, it's all good. Because everything that I lost, I got back, tenfold. Friends, love, a home, it's all there for me now, and this time, I swear, I won't fuck it up.

Finis