Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Faith - Five by Five

Set in Angel S1 Ep18 - Five By Five
Tw: torture 

When Faith revealed herself in Cordelia's apartment, I was bombarded with a rush of emotions I had locked away for years. Seeing Faith again felt like an old wound opening - and promptly, a literal one blossomed on my temple, by her hands, as she knocked me out cold.

I awake in a sleek apartment that clearly does not belong to the slayer. The lights are off but moonlight streaks through the tall windows, illuminating a sadistic smile on Faith's face.

"Rise and shine."

I regret how I left things with Faith. We'd become close, closer than her and Buffy, but once she killed that man, I shut her out. I was conflicted over how I could love someone who was a killer. I realised too late that it wasn't that simple - nothing ever is - but by that time, she was gone. It was too little, too late. 

I'd escaped from Sunnydale with Cordy and Angel, in a poor attempt of a fresh start. My past always finds a way to catch up with me, though.

"Faith," I rasp as she eyes me from across the room, "It's been a while."

I can feel the pain radiating off of her and I dread to think how much of that is caused by me. 

She doesn't reply, she only takes a confident step closer. 

I don't struggle against the ropes binding me to the chair. Well, it's not like I can run away and maybe I don't want to. Part of me knows I deserve some karma and part of me wants to know how far she'll go.

She closes in, predatory and intimidating, straddling me before placing a hand around my throat. "Long time no see, indeed." She squeezes. "How long has it been? How many months since you realised I wasn't worth the hassle, chose B over me?" She squeezes harder.

I gasp.

She lets go.

She tuts to herself, "Man, I gotta pace myself. Can't have you dying on me just yet, buttercup."

I wince, and not because she's hurt me, but because that nickname brings back too many memories. 

"Now, we've only done one of the five basic torture groups: blunt. That still leaves sharp, cold, hot and loud. Have a preference?" she smiles, waiting for me to answer.

"I've missed you."

A flash of the Faith I used to know crosses her features like a half-formed ghost. 

"You can cut the bullshit," she swears and I know I've made the wrong choice, "Just for that, I think we can start with sharp."

She picks up a photo frame, and I hear the glass shatter. 

I blink and she's in front of me. I clamp my mouth shut when she drags the make-shift blade across my cheek. I maintain eye contact as I feel it pierce from my cheek to my chin.

Her face hardens and she pulls away. For a split second, it looks like she can't bear to do this.

I feel her thumb push into the cut and I can't help but cry out - the sound tangled, desperate, undignified. 

"Aw," she's unsympathetic, "Buttercup, does it hurt?"

A twist of a smile, a slash down my arm. 

I grit my teeth. 

"Does it hurt?" she repeats louder, forcing me to look at her by grabbing my chin. 

I don't respond, instead I ask, "I'm surprised you chose me over Wesley. He's screwed you over too."