FicWad

Title: The Heart Afraid
Author: LillianMorgan
Setting: mid-/Dirty Girls/, BtVS Season 7, as in the moment when Faith and Spike are in discussion in the basement and Buffy joins in (with a slight alteration to the timeline)
Pairing: Spike/Buffy/Faith
Disclaimer: I don't own Joss' or ME's toys.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Many thanks to yourlibrarian for the beta.

The Heart Afraid

What is the heart, that it ever was afraid?
Seamus Heaney

So she'd gotten fired from work. Her first grown-up job, which if she stopped to think about it for way too long, she'd actually been offered in a suspiciously easy kind of way, but still ... focus on the important details ... first grown-up job. But now that was history and she was joining the many unemployed that were already living at her house.

Still, it was the mission that mattered and that was important. Despite the fact that another death toll in the path of Buffy Summers, Normal Girl, resounded loud and clear in her ears. She hoped Robin would stick around long enough to give her a good reference so she wouldn't have to do the long, complicated explanation about why she'd been fired.

Which also kinda sucked.

Her first thoughts when coming through the door shouldn't have been (but inevitably were) Spike. More specifically, her thoughts weren't just about Spike but instead his arms which, given the way she was feeling, might be nice to crawl into and escape from the world for just a little bit of time. As she turned from the kitchen, making the decision not to engage with the screamy teens, and put her hand on the basement door, she shouldn't have been thinking about how he used to caress her hair and whisper words she didn't understand in an effort to calm her. At the time it hadn't really worked, but she felt pretty sure that if the whole experience were to be re-enacted then yes those arms would give a stellar performance.

Only, and that was the confusing thing, the chance of re-enactment was as remote as ... a remote thing. Like a polar bear on a desert island. Or a Prada bag in Tibet. Or two Slayers in a Pea Pod.

And why was that exactly? The lack of the re-enactment. It wasn't as if she had refused it absolutely. She felt sure that there hadn't been a conversation where he'd offered and she'd said "No way, José" or "A world of No" or "Not if you were the last vampire on Earth and I was the last Slayer with killer boots and cute hair." She certainly didn't remember that. And not with his Evil Twin either.

Maybe he'd had the conversation with her Evil Twin.

She shuddered. Life was complicated enough as it was without her heart giving her Spike-sized palpitations every five seconds. Yes, that's why there was a no-go barrier between them.

It was the mission.

Alarmingly, her hand pushed harder on the basement door and she moved through it to stand at the top of the stairs.

*

Faith had to admit that he was definitely a risk she'd be willing to take. First thing that hit her radar was the hotness of the guy. But wasn't it always the way with the vampires - they woo a girl with their false beauty and then go in for the kill.

Yeah, sure, Angel revved her engine, but God he never flirted. Besides, she never thought about Angel in that way anymore, or at least she never could. Not since that night when the rain battered down around them and everything changed. Or at least Angel couldn't flirt, not like Spike did. Propping his legs up to suggest that maybe there was a package underneath that she might like to sample, wiggling an eyebrow or two, asking just the right questions in all the wrong places.

And it was nice ... to flirt with a guy. Hell, she didn't care if his heart beat or not. He didn't know about her, not the way the others did. He judged her on the things she said in the here and now, so she made damn sure that the show was up to scratch. Gave him her own sampler of what lay beneath.

It was funny how he never knew it was her riding B's body that night. Guess it goes to show that you never know someone 'til you walk around in their boots and give a guy what for. If B couldn't see what was right in front of her...

Only it seemed that B had moved in first and staked her claim, from the way he muttered that way about her. Like there was some damage between them and it was irreconcilable.

The old Faith might have leapt on the chance to take something of Buffy's. And the way he was flirting he was making it mighty hard to be good. She could feel the quiet thrum of his vampire self as she rubbed shoulders against him every so often. He was cold, but she could tell that that was only his outer layer. Inside, was gonna be different.

Except she no longer was that girl. She knew about redemption and could spell it too. And the one thing she'd figured out in this whole brave new world was that stealing B's man would not make her top drawer in the Slayer Household.

Still, didn't mean she couldn't play. And so she reached out, fingers itching to run along his muscles and connect with the power she wanted to control.

*

Girl was showy, Spike'd seen her type before. But what made her different was that she was a Slayer. And somehow, inconceivably, against the better auspices the thinking part of his brain was directing him to, he was bleedin' drawn like a moth to a flame. A very, very, very bright flame that warned him 'Hands off, you'll get burnt' but still beckoned him inward.

She was everything his Slayer was not. She was dark and dangerous and used her sexuality extremely well. She didn't tie herself up in twentieth century corsets hoping to contain the demons within. She'd even prodded him with her generous bosom once or twice, insisting with the movement on their luscious validity, which his eyes had been drawn to the minute she'd divested herself of that too-tight jacket.

And she wasn't shy in coming forward, that was for sure. It was a spot of light relief, though, this game that they played. Nice to have someone try so hard with him, to win him over. Only trouble was, despite his conscience or his soul or whatever it was that was nagging away at him, he'd got a taste for the retiring kind, the ones who kept their pretties well hidden so that when they showed them he was overcome with emotion. And he wondered if he could ever go back.

Still, the talking thing was good. Getting in some vocal practice and the mental workout, something that was sparse around these parts. Only words spoken in his direction were a command or reprimand so it was game on, and enjoy the ride.

Only thing that soured it was that he figured she'd always lose. If the stakes got too high. He could just make out the heart she wore on her sleeve, shimmering slightly as if afraid to come out, but there nonetheless. Maybe he could tell because he knew exactly where his own was, or maybe because they were two outcasts together sitting and sharing a cigarette, sampling life on the shadier side of the street.

Didn't make him forget the light. Or her. And that was always the same bloody problem, wasn't it?

*

Buffy halted at the bottom of the steps. So this was what they all got up to during the day, sitting around in their ... was Spike wearing no clothes at all? And Faith being waaaay too chummy. And was some of this coming out of her mouth?

"Relax, B," Faith taunted, "haven't laid a finger on your man yet."

"He's not my ..." Buffy countered, then hesitated, looked as far away from Spike as possible and whispered, "man."

"Not sure if that's the right word for it, anyway," Spike observed. He shifted his weight and the blue sheet covering him waved elegantly across his body, concealing what lay underneath but bringing attention to it too, because of its absence. Because Buffy knew exactly what it was protecting, and Faith could only guess. The blue of the sheet cut against the white of his skin ...

And Buffy rolled her eyes and thought, 'Super, it's the let's team up against Buffy combo'.

"Besides," Faith continued, "us reformed evil doers gotta look out for each other, right Spike?" She ran her fingers up his arm and all the way up to his shoulder, which she smoothed affectionately.

Spike merely raised an eyebrow in Buffy's direction and took a long, elusive puff on his lit cigarette. Buffy screwed up her nose in disdain.

"You gonna go upstairs, B?" Faith asked, mirroring Spike's action and sucking on her cigarette.

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and ignored the fact that a herd of heffalumps were running across the ceiling above them.

"Or maybe you wanna discuss," Faith paused and looked up at her through lowered, lascivious eyelashes, and stubbing out her cigarette on her boot, "strategy." The word dripped with the kind of innuendo that had no place in a Scooby meeting. At all.

"Nah," said Buffy, maintaining the stand-off with her body pose, "I've got a better idea. Why don't we chat about what you and Angel got up to, Faith? That sounds like a much more interesting discussion."

Spike snorted loudly and stood up, wrapping the sheet around his hips.

"Aww, Buffy," Faith teased, leaning forward on her elbows, "one guy at a time, ok? Let's get our priorities straight."

"You both need to leave the room, is what you two need to do, yeah? So's a bloke can get dressed. Besides, from the way you girls go at it, seems as if I'm surplus to requirements."

"What's up with him?" Faith directed toward Buffy.

"Dunno," she replied, shrugging her shoulder to cover over her confusion, and happy, for the moment, to be out of Faith's radar. "Although, maybe he's jealous of Angel?"

Spike, who had been walking toward his pile of clothes in the washing machine, spun around in earnest fury, the sheet slipping degree by degree from his fingers. "I am not bleedin' jealous of that poofter," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Buffy rolled her eyes but Faith licked her lips, adding lightly, "Guess we can see that to believe it."

"Too bloody right," Spike retorted, then a perfunctory leer crossed his face, as he readjusted his sheet and Buffy could smell a rat. "Besides, Blondie here should know. What with her previous experience 'n all."

"With Angel?" Faith asked. "Old news. But the you bit," she pointed at Spike, "now that's my kind of information-gathering."

"Could tell you a thing or two about Angel myself, if I'm of an inclination," Spike rebutted, warding off Faith's innuendo with mystery. "But you two girls probably can only see him when you're wearing your rosy spectacles. You'd never believe me. Although if it took a story or two to shift you from my changing-room, I might be more disposed to begin narratin'."

"We could get you some spicy buffalo wings," Buffy said softly. And the mask of bravado slid from Spike's face to be replaced with a sweet, though extremely fleeting, smile. He turned around on his feet and picked up his clothes, hiding his emotion in action.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Faith exclaimed, sliding off the bed and standing in front of Buffy, "how about you dare us to something Spike, and then we'll leave."

"Oh come on Faith, we should probably go upstairs and sort out Potential Disaster Site -"

"Girlies can wait," Faith admonished, a grin creeping into her voice, "they're gonna always be there, right. But William the Bloody at our mercy, B, now that's some fun."

"Hardly. Your mercy?" Spike hmmm-ed into his chest. Still clutching his clothes, he said, "But I'm always up for a challenge? How 'bout you, Slayer?" He tilted his head on one angle, and caught her wandering eyes with his.

Buffy blushed, knew there was no backing out, but she could still wrest the power back from the slipping situation and keep them waiting. She stood there tapping her fingers over her crossed arms then finally acquiesced, "You know me. I love a challenge."

"Ok," said Spike, and leaning back against the washing machine, "a challenge. A dare to get you two away from my cosy abode. Hmm..." He tapped a finger against his cheek and looked from girl to girl, favouring them with a lengthy gaze up and down their bodies, taking in their curves and bouncy hair, their clothes and their expressions of boredom, wilting slightly under his delay.

"Got it," he said, finally, the words slumbering from his lips in mock disaffection. "How about you two girls kiss, with tongue?"

Buffy reacted immediately. "And all we have to do is leave? You pig, Spike."

"All right, all right, keep your knickers on petal," he said, "I'll do something big in return, like go patrolling for the week or take Potential Training Duty for the next three nights or -"

"Dishes," Buffy barked.

"Eh?"

"A week of dishes, every night for the next seven days, in exchange for a quick kiss between me and Faith." Buffy nodded strongly. "That's the deal."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Faith asked.

"You offering to do the next week?" Buffy retorted, swinging her gaze back on Faith.

Faith held her hands up and Spike grumbled, softly, softly, "Think before you even form the words on your lips, William."

"What?" Buffy enquired, raising an eyebrow and doing a poor job of hiding the smile from her eyes, "was that a yes, Spike?" She figured she could have twirled a piece of her hair around her fingers for good measure, but that might have been pushing it.

"It's a yes in the way you've got one of your pointy boots digging into my backside, Slayer."

Faith grabbed Buffy's hand and pulled her toward the bed. "Wait ... wait ... wait ... let me ..."

"Aw, B. You backing out? Think of all those steamy nights filled with ... dish-washing."

"Not backing out," Buffy retaliated, "just ..." She took a step away from Faith and then another and then another until she was halfway between Spike and Faith.

Unexpectedly, Spike closed the gap between them and gently touched her on the shoulder. "Buffy, luv," he murmured, stroking a path from her hair, to the middle of her back, "know what you want, luv, know what you need. Right now, seems you need a bit of relief."

Faith walked back toward Buffy and took her by the hand, this time gently pulling her toward the bed and letting her sit down first. Faith looked down at her and smirked, then sat down herself.

Buffy shifted slightly, looked toward Spike then at Faith. "You ready now, B?"

The slight movement of Buffy's head up and down was trapped as Faith's lips descended on Buffy's. It was unusual, but Buffy stopped her thoughts as soon as she felt the soft prodding of Faith's tongue against hers, as soon as she realised that Faith could do this and do it well. Faith's hand began to trace down Buffy's body as the kiss deepened, until it stopped on one of Buffy's breasts, cupped it and stroked a path across her nipple.

From across the room, a muffled, "Oh yeah," made its way from Spike's mouth.

Faith broke off the embrace with her lips, but not with her hands, leaving Buffy a little pouty. She looked at Spike. "Wanna join in?"

Spike stared at them for a long time, then smiled. "I wanna watch," he replied, his voice husky, and Buffy knew in that moment that he wanted to watch her.

"You sure?" Faith reiterated. "How long's it been since you did it with anyone?"

"Too long," he smirked, but once his eyes found Buffy's they locked onto hers. And suddenly, he was across the room and sitting down next to her, brushing his finger down a few strands of hair against her face and whispering, "Too long," once again, before his lips found hers and they were falling again.

Buffy still felt Faith's fingers tweaking and twisting at her sensitive points but she couldn't think or feel or find any other reason but that it was all about Spike's lips, lips of Spike, soft, sweet, satisfying and simple.

Only not.

Buffy broke off the kiss, and felt herself returning to her body. She took in the way her chest was heaving and her nerves were snapping, her pupils dilating and her heart pumping and pumping and she stared at Spike. Then twisted round and stared at Faith.

She placed a finger at Faith's lips, "We have issues," and she turned back to Spike, "that won't be solved by this. But ... it was nice." She lowered her head, but couldn't hide her smile.

The basement door opened and they all jumped. "Buffy?" came Dawn's querulous voice, "you down here?"

"Coming!" Buffy cried, leaping off the bed and putting distance between the two of them and the moment.

"It's the potential from the hospital. She's awake."

Dawn's words halted her vertigo, and Buffy felt the mission slide back on track.

Finis