TITLE: What meets the eye
SERIES: Freudian Saga - Part 2
AUTHOR: Angelina
EMAIL: angelina2006@hotmail.com
FEEDBACK: Most appreciated.
PERSONAL ARCHIVE: http://members.aol.com/bufpop/default.htm
DISTRIBUTION: Take it, just drop me a line.
SUMMARY: An evening in the library with Cordy and the gang
RATING: R?
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me, they're the property of Joss &
Mutant Enemy.
NOTES: Follows 'Your Freudian Slip is Showing'

*****

God. Why am I here? Why do I insist on coming to this place time
and time again when I really don't like it. It's dark and dingy. It
smells funny, like mould or something. And I'm positive that all the
dust from these old, ancient books is clogging my pores. So why am I
here? Hmmm, could it be the scintillating conversation? Well, I
must say that listening to Willow and Giles discuss the finer points
of demonology has its moments. Not. All those conversations usually
involve some disgusting detail about how the demon guts its victims
and wears their entrails for earrings or something. Now
accessorising I can relate to, but not with innards.

So if we count those two out that leaves Buffy and Xander who, at
this precise moment in time are arguing over who would win a fight
between Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee. Who the hell cares about this
stuff? These aren't my kind of people. I want to stand up and
scream that sometimes. But I don't. Because they're my…friends…
sorta. And one of them is my boyfriend.

Although God only knows how that happened. I like to think that it
was the situation. Being one of the few who know that monsters and
boogiemen are real drastically reduces the number of people you can
talk to about stuff. And Xander was one of those people. And
because of all the near-death experiences my brain must've
malfunctioned and gone back to primitive survival of the species way
of thinking. I was gonna die, he was there, I had to. And I guess
it's been more convenient just to keep him. Anyone else I get
involved with gets beat up by invisible girls or eaten by vampires or
turns out to be a psychotic member of a cult or something. So going
out with someone who's under the protection of the slayer has its
advantages…mainly for the longevity of the relationship.

Plus, Xander's been really good about, you know, the other thing…the
thing that I'm not thinking about. The thing that I don't ever think
about. But I really don't want to think about that now.

What was I thinking about before the thing that I don't want to think
about? Oh yeah, why am I in this library, researching some boring
old demon with these people. I'd like to think that learning about
the existence of various evil thingies has made me realise that I
have a duty to protect the less-informed members of society.
Weeeeellll, kinda. Yeah, I do want to help fight badness. Well, not
so much with the actual physical fighting stuff. That's dangerous
and is best left to people who know how to do it without dying. I'm
not one of these people so I'm of more use in here. It's a pity I
don't actually like books. I'm not stupid, in fact I'm very
intelligent. I just keep that little fact well-hidden. But I'm not
a fan of books. Which leads me back to why I come to this god-
forsaken place of a night. I could help in other ways. I could…I
don't know…I could buy them all little fighting outfits or
something.

Listen to me. Who am I trying to kid here? I couldn't just sit back
and let them go out and fight. I'm not that kind of person. People
think I am, but I'm not. So that's why I'm here I suppose. Yeah,
I'm here to help. I wanna help. I'm certainly not here in the hope
that the person I don't think about is gonna drop by after patrol.
Nope, that's definitely not the reason. Just because I overheard
Giles telling her to report back to him doesn't mean that that's the
reason I decided to blow off a night at the Bronze with Harmony.
It's a total coincidence. And while I was overhearing them talking,
I definitely didn't notice the way her leather pants accentuated that
sculpted ass which I would gladly kill to have. I mean have in the
sense that I'd like mine to look like it…not that I'd want her own
personal ass or anything. And my insides didn't go all gooey when
she spoke in that low, grainy voice with the `slightly wrong side of
the tracks' accent.

Maybe if I keep telling myself that I'll believe it one of these
days. I could possibly admit the truth to myself. And only to
myself. But if I were to do that it'd open up a big can of worms
that I just can't deal with right now. So I'll continue dropping
into the library during school and be secure in the knowledge that it
has nothing to do with trying to catch her while she's training and
getting all sweaty. And I'll help research well into the night and
I'll know that it's not because I want to see the way she buzzes
after patrol, practically vibrating with energy, just about ready to
burst. Yeah, I'll know all of that.

However, it is getting harder to deny it. I've had a permanent
headache for the past three weeks. At least, that's what I've told
Xander whenever he's tried to initiate anything sexy. It's not that
I don't want to do stuff with him, he's actually quite good. It's
just that my bottom lip can't take it any more. I've bitten it so
much trying not to scream her name when he's doing stuff to me. It's
lucky that I'm so secure in the fact that I'm in no way attracted to
her that or I might just wonder why it's her face that's in my head
whenever I'm about to…ummm, you know. I might be curious about why
it's her name that comes out of my mouth. So it's lucky that I'm one
hundred percent not attracted to her really, isn't it?

The way that my stomach just jumped into my mouth when she crashed
through the swing doors obviously has something to do with the
chicken I had for dinner. I'm sure it was slightly pink in the
middle. Oh my God, she's bleeding.

"Oh my God, Faith, you're bleeding!"

Way to state the obvious Buffy.

"It's just a scratch, I'm fine. Damn stupid vamps ambushed me in an
alley. Why the hell you got so many alleys in this town anyways?"

She's so tough. There's blood coursing down the side of her face and
her shoulder looks to be in a bad way too, from what I can see
through the ripped denim anyway. But she's so strong and brave that
she probably doesn't even notice the pain. God, I hope I didn't just
sigh contentedly.

"Come into the office, I'll get you cleaned up."

I sometimes wonder if Giles gets some sort of kick out of `cleaning
up' wounded teenage girls. But then that probably makes me a lot
more perverse that he is.

"Nah, G-man, you're busy with the books."

Oh God, she's looking at me…why is she looking at me? My expression
is somewhere between mild concern and slightly questioning. I think
that's the right balance.

"Maybe Queen C could fix me up. Looks like her readin' isn't goin'
too great."

She's got that cocky smirk on her face. It's cute, even with all the
blood and bruising. But what is she talking about? Oh shit, my
book's upside down. Maybe I should've looked at it a couple of times
instead of flicking the pages. She wants me to help her? Why?
Would it look really strange if I agreed? It's not like we're
friends. Oh what the hell.

"Whatever. Anything to get away from these books. I'm getting a
rash from all the dust."

An overly dramatic sigh to punctuate my sentiment and I think I've
got them convinced that this is a chore for me, which is what it is,
of course. I drag myself to my feet and follow Faith into the
office, not watching her butt as she walks.

She sits down on Giles' desk while I get the first aid box out. I
turn around and see that she's flinching as she tries to remove her
jacket. I reach out and put my hand on her arm to stop her from
straining herself further. It's really hard to ignore the surge of
energy that just shot up my arm at actual physical contact. But I
just about manage it. I gently slide the jacket off her injured
shoulder and can't help but gasp at the deep lacerations hidden
underneath.

"S'okay C, it'll be gone in the morning."

She grins at me and I can do nothing but smile warmly in return. This
denial thing isn't really working well at the moment. The cut on her
head has almost stopped bleeding. I dab it a couple of times with
some cotton wool and then turn my attention to the more serious wound
on her shoulder. I take my time cleaning it, leaning over her,
lightly grazing the skin of her arm with my hand to hold her in place
as I work. Oh. My. God. She just put her face in my cleavage. I'm
completely frozen. I have no idea what to do now. I can feel her
breath tickling me. Then suddenly she sits up and blinks a few times.

"Jeez, musta lost more blood that I thought."

She glances at where her head had been. I'm really trying not to
breathe fast but I think I'm redefining the term `heaving bosom'.
And the fact that she's staring at it is just making matters worse.

"Sorry `bout that."

She looks so far from apologetic it's unbelievable. People who're
sorry don't usually have a lascivious expression on their face. And
sorry people generally don't stare quite so much at the body part in
question.

"It's just…it looked really comfortable, and I'm feelin' kinda
woozy. And ya know, it's just right out there, inviting…"

My God, I'm completely offended. And totally flattered. But the
words `Pot', `Kettle' and `Black' keep springing to mind. Hello? My
chest is `out there'? She's one to talk. But I guess I really
should make some kind of response here.

"It's OK."

How suave Cordy, how verbose.

"Oh, I wasn't apologisin' for puttin' my head there. I was sorry I
was unconscious at the time."

She winks at me. And now I'm pretty sure that I'm beyond words. I
hurriedly finish tying a bandage around her shoulder and stand back,
making sure that no part of my body is touching hers. That way, I
may regain the power of speech in a minute.

"Look, uh, I think maybe I should get Giles…you seem…maybe you should
see a doctor, with the blood-loss and stuff…"

I turn to go get Giles but she catches my arm and spins me back
around to face her.

"It's fine, I'm fine."

And I believe her. And I'm utterly transfixed by her eyes. And I'm
staring at her without speaking. And she has this strange
expression on her face, like she knows something. What does she know?

"Look, I'm gonna head home…maybe, if you're not too busy here you
might wanna walk me back…to make sure I don't faint or anything on
the way."

Her voice carries a suggestion of something more. Or maybe I'm just
hearing things that aren't there.

"I…uh…I'll drive you back…much safer."

Her eyes just lit up. Like maybe she'd been expecting me to refuse
or something. She actually looked pleased and surprised. Which
leads me to believe that there's a lot more to Faith than meets the
eye. Of course, what meets the eye is very pleasant…but it's not all
that she is. Hmmm, who'd have guessed? She's still holding onto my
arm. I don't want to break the contact. In a quick movement I find
myself pressed against her, her mouth to my ear. Her whispers are
doing strange and unusual things to my legs.

"And if we get there and you're still concerned about my health…maybe
we could play Doctor?"

She pulls back and for a split second I see vulnerability in those
deep eyes. Then it's gone and replaced by the usual grin. She walks
out of the office and I hear her announcing to the gang that I'm
taking her home. I'm shaking. With fear? Or excitement? I'm not
sure. The only thing I'm sure of is that I have no idea what I'm
doing. But whatever it is, I'm probably going to find out soon.