Some Rain Must Fall - Chapter 4
Aug. 24th, 2005 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psubratChallenge code: 1BG15
Title: Some Rain Must Fall
Author: PSUbrat
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to, I’m just borrowing them for a while.
Description: This story is completely AU and set in 1928 Chicago. No vampires. No Slayers. Just lots of mobsters and Feds.
Author’s Note: This was written in response to the LJ community![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
watchersdiaries's art-a-thon reversed challenge. I’d like to thank ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eurydice72 for her honest opinions, betaing prowess and constant support and encouragement.
Summary: It’s 1928 Chicago. Prohibition is at its height and mobsters Al Capone and Bugs Moran run the city, including the local law enforcement agencies. The Pratt kidnapping case is the last thing that private detective, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, expects to have come across his desk, but it does. Now he must deal with his past, which includes a young, feisty brunette name Faith Lehane and the murder of his wife, Winifred, in order to find the missing Buffy Pratt before it’s too late.
Previous chapters can be found here.
“I have to go,” Wesley said quickly, hanging up the phone to the loud protests of his cousin on the other end of the line. He didn’t want to have to explain why Faith was in his flat, even if it was purely innocent.
The white oxford was a stunning contrast against her tanned body and dark hair. The hem of the shirt reached to her knees and she had the cuffs rolled back since the sleeves were too long for her slender arms. Unexpectedly, he found himself wanting to know exactly what she was wearing underneath, if anything.
Faith smiled apologetically as she moved further into the room. “I hope that wasn’t on account of me…”
Wesley stared at her, his mouth suddenly dry and incapable of forming words, his cock stirring once again at the sight of her looking so desirable.
Ignoring his inability to speak, she continued on. “Nothing I’ve got to ask is more important than what you’re working on so if you want to call whoever that was back…”
After several more seconds of silence, he cleared his throat and finally spoke. “It’s quite all right actually. Lorne and I were just finishing up.”
“Lorne? Is everything okay?” she demanded, worry coating her words.
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “He was just checking in.”
“Oh. Okay.” She paused, fidgeting with the hem and then hooking her thumb towards the kitchen, she asked, “Uhm, do you mind if I help myself?”
“No, please, go right ahead.”
Wesley heard glass clinking together and wondered what she was doing. Maybe she was going to make them a dinner with whatever she found in the refrigerator. He couldn’t think of what that might be, though. As a bachelor, he ate out a lot.
Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, he put the phone back on the small table next to him and then laid the folder on his lap, trying to hide the erection that had come back with a vengeance. How was he going to keep his mind on the case at hand with Faith looking like that? Perhaps he could try to draw on his time as a priest for strength. No, there wasn’t a chance in hell that was going to work. He was only human with flaws and needs just like everyone else, wasn’t he?
He was weak.
He knew that.
He accepted that. And some days, he hated himself because of it.
This was shaping up to be one of those days.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she stated casually, standing at the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Her arms were at her sides, a whiskey bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“About the whiskey?”
“No, about the shirt. I borrowed it,” she said.
He took the glasses from her hand so that she could open the bottle. “Yes, I see. I have to say it looks a lot better on you than me.” That was an understatement to say the least.
“I needed to get out of that damp dress before I got sick and we didn’t stop long enough for me to pick up any clothes. I hope you don’t mind that I went through your closet. A girl’s gotta cover herself. Unless you want it back…”
There was no mistaking the playful, seductive tone in her voice, especially when she began to slowly unbutton the shirt. “No,” he said, faster than he should have. “You’re more than welcome to wear it while you’re here.”
Faith smiled as she handed him a glass. “I thought we could both use some of this,” she said, pouring the amber liquid into the tumbler.
He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d already had three while she was in the shower or that he was now feeling its effects. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re not too cold? I could get you my robe.”
“I’m fine,” she purred, swaggering by him with her glass and the bottle to take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
Wesley blushed a deep crimson when she sat down, the shirt hem riding up to mid-thigh. Her behavior was scandalous. “I’m sure I have something softer,” he said hastily. “I’ll go have a look now.”
She cut him off by quickly stretching her legs across his lap and kicking the folder to the floor. “Honest, Wes, I’m good. Besides, your robe’s too scratchy for my sensitive skin. If there’s anything I need, or want,” she drawled, looking at him through her lashes, “I’ll let you know. Deal?”
He nodded absently. This whole day had gone from bad to surreal in short order. Had someone told him earlier this morning that he’d be spending his evening with a young, attractive woman who was tantalizing him at every turn, he would have laughed in their face and taken another drink. Yet, here he was, sitting in his flat with Faith and not having the faintest idea what to do with her. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He knew what to do with the opposite sex; he just didn’t quite know what to do with this particular member.
“So what do you want from me?”
He coughed in response as his liquor went down the wrong way.
“What do you need from me to help you find Buffy?” she clarified with a sly grin.
Before he could reply, she lightly ran her toes over his groin, causing him to almost groan out loud. What on earth was she thinking? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pushed her feet off his lap, much to her dismay.
“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Wes. I was just having some fun.”
“Of course. And to answer your question, I require a list of contacts --- people with whom she was friends. Acquaintances and such.”
Faith leaned her head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip before answering. “I already said. Things between me and B aren’t the greatest these days. What I can give you is a short list of some of her friends from two years ago. After she broke up with Riley though, you’re on your own.” She drained her glass and poured another, topping off his half-empty tumbler as well.
“I’d almost forgotten about Riley.”
“Yeah, don’t feel too bad about not remembering him. Most people don’t. I like to call it B’s dull period.”
“They were oddly matched, weren’t they?”
“Yeah. I always wondered what it was she saw in him. Hey, do you know if he’s still working for the Treasury department?”
Wesley nodded. “I believe he works for Spike.”
“I bet that’s going over well.”
“Hmmm?” He was definitely feeling the effects of the whiskey, and his mind was wandering to places he didn’t want it to go, namely to thoughts of kissing Faith. “Oh. Yes, I suppose it’s been a bit awkward, but Spike’s a professional. I highly doubt he lets his feelings get in the way of his work.”
“You’re joking, right? We’re talking about Spike here, the same guy who likes to brag about his accomplishments. I bet he rubbed it in Riley’s face that he stole Buffy right out from under him.”
“I highly doubt that. From what I understand, Buffy and Spike didn’t start dating until after she broke off the engagement to Riley.”
“You’re right. Spike didn’t steal Buffy, but the way things were going, he would have eventually.”
Wes raised an eyebrow in question. “You think so? But Riley and Buffy were engaged…”
Faith was nodding her head vigorously. “As soon as Buffy met Spike at his ‘welcome-to-town’ party, anyone within a five-mile radius could see the sparks. It was pretty obvious, even to me.”
“Buffy never told me exactly what happened between the two of them when she broke things off. At first, I’d just assumed it was cold feet or a disagreement of some such over the wedding plans, but then she was with Spike not too long after.” He paused a moment, taking another swallow of his drink. When he looked over at her, she was pouring yet more whiskey into her glass. “Something tells me you know what went on.”
She stopped in mid-pour, throwing back what was in her tumbler before she answered. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too observant?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.
“I believe I’ve been told that on a number of occasions. It’s part of my charm.”
The sound of her laughter made him grin, causing a warm sensation to spread throughout his body. He gulped down what was left of his whiskey and held out the glass for more. She upended the bottle as she emptied its contents, some of the liquid splashing on his hand and her legs. The simple act mesmerized him.
“Being observant is a good quality to have as a detective, don’t you think?” Wesley asked.
“I could see how that particular ability might come in handy,” she said with a nod. She stood up and stretched, the shirt riding up high on her thighs as she did so. “I think before I fill you in on what happened with Buffy, we need another bottle.”
Wes studied his empty glass. She’d just filled it, hadn’t she? Where did its contents go and just how many did that make now? He was losing count, along with his inhibitions.
“Wes?” she asked, leaning over to give him a nudge.
“Yes?” he slurred.
“Another bottle?”
“In the kitchen, bottom cupboard by the stove. I’ll get it…” he said, trying to stand, but swaying instead.
“That’s okay. I’ll get it. You just sit down and relax.”
She gave him a light push and he fell back to the couch with a sigh, closing his eyes and visualizing what it would be like to run his hands over her silky, soft skin.
“Hey, you okay?”
He must have dozed off for a few seconds because he’d never heard her come back in the room. When he opened his eyes, she was standing between his legs, another bottle of whiskey in her hand.
“Yes, I’m just fine. But I do think you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“What if I was?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“I’d say you’ve accomplished your job then.”
“Not really,” she said, smiling wickedly. “If I was successful, you’d be completely naked right now and I’d be a very happy girl.”
Wesley cleared his throat, plainly uncomfortable with where she was trying to take things. They’d already been down that road this evening and it just wasn’t going to happen. “Faith…” he warned.
“Wesley.”
“What is it you want from me, Faith?”
“I --- I don’t know what you mean…”
“What do you want from me?” he asked, moving to the edge of the sofa and sitting up straight.
“I don’t want anything from you. I just want you.”
“For how long, Faith? Tonight? Tomorrow night?” His voice grew louder with each question. His head felt like it was going to explode.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he said harshly. When she blanched, he softened his tone. “I can’t promise anything more than one night and I’m just not comfortable with that. You deserve much better than what I’m offering.”
“Look, Wes, I know your situation. I understand that you love Fred and always will. I’m not asking you to move in with me or get married. I’m asking you to have sex with me. There’s a big difference.”
“Not to me there isn’t.” The thought of having a one-night stand sickened him. “I just can’t have my way with you and then walk away. That’s not who I am.”
“Wes, I want you. It’s as simple as that. If you’re worried about upsetting me by saying Fred’s name again, don’t be. I won’t be offended.”
“But you should be!” he yelled, standing up and whirling away from her. Was the room spinning or was he? He wasn’t quite sure, but he knew he was angry with her for being so blasé about sex and with himself for getting so frustrated with her. He sighed, running one hand through his dark hair as he leaned back against the wall to steady himself and the room.
Lowering his head, he tried to explain how he felt. “When you’re with a man in that way, he should be thinking about you and only you, not a fiancée or a girlfriend, or a dead wife for that matter. Sex is not something I take lightly, Faith.”
“And you think I do?” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest while she glared at him. “I’m not a whore, Wes. I don’t go around sleeping with just anyone. So don’t be so fucking condescending. Walk a few miles in my shoes before you say shit like that.”
“I’m sorry.” He felt awful for making it sound like she was a whore. That hadn’t been his intention at all. “It’s just, the act of sex itself means something to me. Do you at least understand that?”
Faith snorted derisively at him. “I understand you’re pretty fucked up.”
Touché. She had him there. He still carried around a lot of emotional baggage from being a priest. His thoughts and feelings about sex before marriage, and how utterly wrong it was, had been ingrained in him ever since he was a small child, and only reinforced when he went through seminary. As much as he tried, he just couldn’t escape that particular inhibition.
“You’re right,” Wesley said finally. “I’m not in the best of places right now, and that’s putting it mildly. I drink too much and I don’t care about the people around me, let alone myself. So believe me when I say that my not wanting to sleep with you this evening has nothing, whatsoever, to do with you. It’s my problem. Not yours.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that it doesn’t have to be a problem.”
“Faith, we can go around and around about this the rest of the night, but it’s not going to change how I feel.” His shoulders slumped in defeat when her eyes began tearing up. “I know this isn’t the outcome you desired...”
“You don’t know anything about desire,” she growled.
Faith turned her back to him, leaving him feeling as if he’d handled the situation in entirely the wrong fashion.
“We’re both tired. Perhaps a good night’s sleep will put us in a better frame of mind. I’ll take the couch. You can have the bedroom.”
“Don’t patronize me, Wes. I’ll take the couch. After all, I’m just a whore who doesn’t deserve to be happy.”
“That’s not what I said ---.”
“Yeah, well, whatever,” she responded, stalking over to the sofa and flopping down on it, the whiskey bottle still in her hand.
“Faith, please…”
“Not moving, Wes. So forget about it.”
He shook his head slowly. There wasn’t anything more he could possibly say that would make things better, so he wasn’t going to try. Instead, he went to the hall closet, pulled out a pillow and a set of sheets for Faith to use, and then walked back into the room to set them down on the chair in the corner.
“If you need anything else---.”
“I won’t,” she snapped.
“Well, then, goodnight, Faith,” he stated as congenially as he could. When there was no answer, he left the room, his head pounding and the rest of his body numb from too much alcohol. Once in his room, he stripped down to his underwear and collapsed on top of the covers. The last thought that went through his mind as his head hit the pillow was, what on earth had he gotten himself into?
Small hands splayed across a cement wall as Buffy Pratt felt her way around her prison, stumbling occasionally in the dark as she did. She had stopped crying long ago. After all, it had to be almost twenty-four hours since she’d been abducted – plenty of time for anger to replace the shock. Now, she resolved to find a way out of this mess. Despite having no doubt in her mind that Spike would find and rescue her, she was determined to do as much as she could to help herself.
She’d already found one door, her heart soaring at first when she was able to freely turn the knob. However, her feelings of relief were quickly replaced by more despair when the door opened into yet a smaller room. At least she had a bathroom and didn’t have to squat into a bucket.
But there still wasn’t another door, or any light for that matter.
After several more minutes of exploration, she gave up, a quick sob escaping her throat at her failure. She felt her way back to the lumpy cot, tripping over a chair in the process. When she reached the bed, she threw herself down and curled into a fetal position.
She didn’t understand any of this. One minute she had been at Caritas with Cordelia, and the next minute she was being ushered out of the building, with a gun to her back, by Angel O’Connor.
The only thing he had to say to her as he walked her out of the club was that she had to look relaxed and happy, as if she was enjoying leaving with him. She had been about to refuse to cooperate when the cold steel pressed against her flesh, letting her know that he meant business.
When they got into the waiting car, she was blindfolded and her hands tied. She kept pleading with him over and over to let her go, but Angel ignored her, finally gagging her to keep her quiet. Maybe if she hadn’t called him by his given name, he wouldn’t have been so angry with her.
There had been a time when Buffy knew him as Liam, back when they both went to the same parish. He had been a ruffian even then, running around with other boys of questionable character and always getting into trouble with the law. It didn’t surprise her, years later, when she heard he was working for Bugs Moran, especially since the mob boss recruited boys like Liam for his ranks.
Liam had pursued her romantically for years. Each time he had asked her out on a date, she had politely declined, citing their age difference as the reason. But the cards and gifts had kept coming, one after the other, resulting in her room being filled with delicate porcelain angels. She, and her stepfather, had tried to return the gifts, but to no avail. The next day, another would be on the doorstep waiting for her.
Liam’s attentions continued after graduation, right up until she and Riley got engaged. After the engagement announcement, she didn’t hear from Angel again, figuring he’d finally given up. When news of his marriage to Darla reached Buffy, she had been relieved, knowing that there wouldn’t be any more advances to fend off.
Now this.
As sleep was about to finally take her, there was a loud clunking that echoed off the walls. It was the sound of a key tumbling the lock. Quickly she sat up, her hands reaching for the chair in case she had to use it against whoever was about to come through the door. Her heart pounded and her breathing quickened as she readied herself to fight.
The door opened.
Shielding her eyes from the harsh light spilling in from a naked bulb in the hallway, she couldn’t tell who stood at the door.
“Buffy?” a familiar voice asked.
Relief flooded her senses. She was saved.
The man walked into the room, immediately wrapping his arms around her. “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m here now.”
To be continued in Chapter 5 – Deafening Silence
Title: Some Rain Must Fall
Author: PSUbrat
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to, I’m just borrowing them for a while.
Description: This story is completely AU and set in 1928 Chicago. No vampires. No Slayers. Just lots of mobsters and Feds.
Author’s Note: This was written in response to the LJ community
watchersdiaries's art-a-thon reversed challenge. I’d like to thank eurydice72 for her honest opinions, betaing prowess and constant support and encouragement.Summary: It’s 1928 Chicago. Prohibition is at its height and mobsters Al Capone and Bugs Moran run the city, including the local law enforcement agencies. The Pratt kidnapping case is the last thing that private detective, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, expects to have come across his desk, but it does. Now he must deal with his past, which includes a young, feisty brunette name Faith Lehane and the murder of his wife, Winifred, in order to find the missing Buffy Pratt before it’s too late.
Previous chapters can be found here.
Chapter 4: Anguish of Spirit
“I have to go,” Wesley said quickly, hanging up the phone to the loud protests of his cousin on the other end of the line. He didn’t want to have to explain why Faith was in his flat, even if it was purely innocent.
The white oxford was a stunning contrast against her tanned body and dark hair. The hem of the shirt reached to her knees and she had the cuffs rolled back since the sleeves were too long for her slender arms. Unexpectedly, he found himself wanting to know exactly what she was wearing underneath, if anything.
Faith smiled apologetically as she moved further into the room. “I hope that wasn’t on account of me…”
Wesley stared at her, his mouth suddenly dry and incapable of forming words, his cock stirring once again at the sight of her looking so desirable.
Ignoring his inability to speak, she continued on. “Nothing I’ve got to ask is more important than what you’re working on so if you want to call whoever that was back…”
After several more seconds of silence, he cleared his throat and finally spoke. “It’s quite all right actually. Lorne and I were just finishing up.”
“Lorne? Is everything okay?” she demanded, worry coating her words.
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “He was just checking in.”
“Oh. Okay.” She paused, fidgeting with the hem and then hooking her thumb towards the kitchen, she asked, “Uhm, do you mind if I help myself?”
“No, please, go right ahead.”
Wesley heard glass clinking together and wondered what she was doing. Maybe she was going to make them a dinner with whatever she found in the refrigerator. He couldn’t think of what that might be, though. As a bachelor, he ate out a lot.
Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, he put the phone back on the small table next to him and then laid the folder on his lap, trying to hide the erection that had come back with a vengeance. How was he going to keep his mind on the case at hand with Faith looking like that? Perhaps he could try to draw on his time as a priest for strength. No, there wasn’t a chance in hell that was going to work. He was only human with flaws and needs just like everyone else, wasn’t he?
He was weak.
He knew that.
He accepted that. And some days, he hated himself because of it.
This was shaping up to be one of those days.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she stated casually, standing at the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Her arms were at her sides, a whiskey bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“About the whiskey?”
“No, about the shirt. I borrowed it,” she said.
He took the glasses from her hand so that she could open the bottle. “Yes, I see. I have to say it looks a lot better on you than me.” That was an understatement to say the least.
“I needed to get out of that damp dress before I got sick and we didn’t stop long enough for me to pick up any clothes. I hope you don’t mind that I went through your closet. A girl’s gotta cover herself. Unless you want it back…”
There was no mistaking the playful, seductive tone in her voice, especially when she began to slowly unbutton the shirt. “No,” he said, faster than he should have. “You’re more than welcome to wear it while you’re here.”
Faith smiled as she handed him a glass. “I thought we could both use some of this,” she said, pouring the amber liquid into the tumbler.
He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d already had three while she was in the shower or that he was now feeling its effects. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re not too cold? I could get you my robe.”
“I’m fine,” she purred, swaggering by him with her glass and the bottle to take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
Wesley blushed a deep crimson when she sat down, the shirt hem riding up to mid-thigh. Her behavior was scandalous. “I’m sure I have something softer,” he said hastily. “I’ll go have a look now.”
She cut him off by quickly stretching her legs across his lap and kicking the folder to the floor. “Honest, Wes, I’m good. Besides, your robe’s too scratchy for my sensitive skin. If there’s anything I need, or want,” she drawled, looking at him through her lashes, “I’ll let you know. Deal?”
He nodded absently. This whole day had gone from bad to surreal in short order. Had someone told him earlier this morning that he’d be spending his evening with a young, attractive woman who was tantalizing him at every turn, he would have laughed in their face and taken another drink. Yet, here he was, sitting in his flat with Faith and not having the faintest idea what to do with her. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He knew what to do with the opposite sex; he just didn’t quite know what to do with this particular member.
“So what do you want from me?”
He coughed in response as his liquor went down the wrong way.
“What do you need from me to help you find Buffy?” she clarified with a sly grin.
Before he could reply, she lightly ran her toes over his groin, causing him to almost groan out loud. What on earth was she thinking? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pushed her feet off his lap, much to her dismay.
“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Wes. I was just having some fun.”
“Of course. And to answer your question, I require a list of contacts --- people with whom she was friends. Acquaintances and such.”
Faith leaned her head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip before answering. “I already said. Things between me and B aren’t the greatest these days. What I can give you is a short list of some of her friends from two years ago. After she broke up with Riley though, you’re on your own.” She drained her glass and poured another, topping off his half-empty tumbler as well.
“I’d almost forgotten about Riley.”
“Yeah, don’t feel too bad about not remembering him. Most people don’t. I like to call it B’s dull period.”
“They were oddly matched, weren’t they?”
“Yeah. I always wondered what it was she saw in him. Hey, do you know if he’s still working for the Treasury department?”
Wesley nodded. “I believe he works for Spike.”
“I bet that’s going over well.”
“Hmmm?” He was definitely feeling the effects of the whiskey, and his mind was wandering to places he didn’t want it to go, namely to thoughts of kissing Faith. “Oh. Yes, I suppose it’s been a bit awkward, but Spike’s a professional. I highly doubt he lets his feelings get in the way of his work.”
“You’re joking, right? We’re talking about Spike here, the same guy who likes to brag about his accomplishments. I bet he rubbed it in Riley’s face that he stole Buffy right out from under him.”
“I highly doubt that. From what I understand, Buffy and Spike didn’t start dating until after she broke off the engagement to Riley.”
“You’re right. Spike didn’t steal Buffy, but the way things were going, he would have eventually.”
Wes raised an eyebrow in question. “You think so? But Riley and Buffy were engaged…”
Faith was nodding her head vigorously. “As soon as Buffy met Spike at his ‘welcome-to-town’ party, anyone within a five-mile radius could see the sparks. It was pretty obvious, even to me.”
“Buffy never told me exactly what happened between the two of them when she broke things off. At first, I’d just assumed it was cold feet or a disagreement of some such over the wedding plans, but then she was with Spike not too long after.” He paused a moment, taking another swallow of his drink. When he looked over at her, she was pouring yet more whiskey into her glass. “Something tells me you know what went on.”
She stopped in mid-pour, throwing back what was in her tumbler before she answered. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too observant?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.
“I believe I’ve been told that on a number of occasions. It’s part of my charm.”
The sound of her laughter made him grin, causing a warm sensation to spread throughout his body. He gulped down what was left of his whiskey and held out the glass for more. She upended the bottle as she emptied its contents, some of the liquid splashing on his hand and her legs. The simple act mesmerized him.
“Being observant is a good quality to have as a detective, don’t you think?” Wesley asked.
“I could see how that particular ability might come in handy,” she said with a nod. She stood up and stretched, the shirt riding up high on her thighs as she did so. “I think before I fill you in on what happened with Buffy, we need another bottle.”
Wes studied his empty glass. She’d just filled it, hadn’t she? Where did its contents go and just how many did that make now? He was losing count, along with his inhibitions.
“Wes?” she asked, leaning over to give him a nudge.
“Yes?” he slurred.
“Another bottle?”
“In the kitchen, bottom cupboard by the stove. I’ll get it…” he said, trying to stand, but swaying instead.
“That’s okay. I’ll get it. You just sit down and relax.”
She gave him a light push and he fell back to the couch with a sigh, closing his eyes and visualizing what it would be like to run his hands over her silky, soft skin.
******
“Hey, you okay?”
He must have dozed off for a few seconds because he’d never heard her come back in the room. When he opened his eyes, she was standing between his legs, another bottle of whiskey in her hand.
“Yes, I’m just fine. But I do think you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“What if I was?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“I’d say you’ve accomplished your job then.”
“Not really,” she said, smiling wickedly. “If I was successful, you’d be completely naked right now and I’d be a very happy girl.”
Wesley cleared his throat, plainly uncomfortable with where she was trying to take things. They’d already been down that road this evening and it just wasn’t going to happen. “Faith…” he warned.
“Wesley.”
“What is it you want from me, Faith?”
“I --- I don’t know what you mean…”
“What do you want from me?” he asked, moving to the edge of the sofa and sitting up straight.
“I don’t want anything from you. I just want you.”
“For how long, Faith? Tonight? Tomorrow night?” His voice grew louder with each question. His head felt like it was going to explode.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he said harshly. When she blanched, he softened his tone. “I can’t promise anything more than one night and I’m just not comfortable with that. You deserve much better than what I’m offering.”
“Look, Wes, I know your situation. I understand that you love Fred and always will. I’m not asking you to move in with me or get married. I’m asking you to have sex with me. There’s a big difference.”
“Not to me there isn’t.” The thought of having a one-night stand sickened him. “I just can’t have my way with you and then walk away. That’s not who I am.”
“Wes, I want you. It’s as simple as that. If you’re worried about upsetting me by saying Fred’s name again, don’t be. I won’t be offended.”
“But you should be!” he yelled, standing up and whirling away from her. Was the room spinning or was he? He wasn’t quite sure, but he knew he was angry with her for being so blasé about sex and with himself for getting so frustrated with her. He sighed, running one hand through his dark hair as he leaned back against the wall to steady himself and the room.
Lowering his head, he tried to explain how he felt. “When you’re with a man in that way, he should be thinking about you and only you, not a fiancée or a girlfriend, or a dead wife for that matter. Sex is not something I take lightly, Faith.”
“And you think I do?” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest while she glared at him. “I’m not a whore, Wes. I don’t go around sleeping with just anyone. So don’t be so fucking condescending. Walk a few miles in my shoes before you say shit like that.”
“I’m sorry.” He felt awful for making it sound like she was a whore. That hadn’t been his intention at all. “It’s just, the act of sex itself means something to me. Do you at least understand that?”
Faith snorted derisively at him. “I understand you’re pretty fucked up.”
Touché. She had him there. He still carried around a lot of emotional baggage from being a priest. His thoughts and feelings about sex before marriage, and how utterly wrong it was, had been ingrained in him ever since he was a small child, and only reinforced when he went through seminary. As much as he tried, he just couldn’t escape that particular inhibition.
“You’re right,” Wesley said finally. “I’m not in the best of places right now, and that’s putting it mildly. I drink too much and I don’t care about the people around me, let alone myself. So believe me when I say that my not wanting to sleep with you this evening has nothing, whatsoever, to do with you. It’s my problem. Not yours.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that it doesn’t have to be a problem.”
“Faith, we can go around and around about this the rest of the night, but it’s not going to change how I feel.” His shoulders slumped in defeat when her eyes began tearing up. “I know this isn’t the outcome you desired...”
“You don’t know anything about desire,” she growled.
Faith turned her back to him, leaving him feeling as if he’d handled the situation in entirely the wrong fashion.
“We’re both tired. Perhaps a good night’s sleep will put us in a better frame of mind. I’ll take the couch. You can have the bedroom.”
“Don’t patronize me, Wes. I’ll take the couch. After all, I’m just a whore who doesn’t deserve to be happy.”
“That’s not what I said ---.”
“Yeah, well, whatever,” she responded, stalking over to the sofa and flopping down on it, the whiskey bottle still in her hand.
“Faith, please…”
“Not moving, Wes. So forget about it.”
He shook his head slowly. There wasn’t anything more he could possibly say that would make things better, so he wasn’t going to try. Instead, he went to the hall closet, pulled out a pillow and a set of sheets for Faith to use, and then walked back into the room to set them down on the chair in the corner.
“If you need anything else---.”
“I won’t,” she snapped.
“Well, then, goodnight, Faith,” he stated as congenially as he could. When there was no answer, he left the room, his head pounding and the rest of his body numb from too much alcohol. Once in his room, he stripped down to his underwear and collapsed on top of the covers. The last thought that went through his mind as his head hit the pillow was, what on earth had he gotten himself into?
******
Small hands splayed across a cement wall as Buffy Pratt felt her way around her prison, stumbling occasionally in the dark as she did. She had stopped crying long ago. After all, it had to be almost twenty-four hours since she’d been abducted – plenty of time for anger to replace the shock. Now, she resolved to find a way out of this mess. Despite having no doubt in her mind that Spike would find and rescue her, she was determined to do as much as she could to help herself.
She’d already found one door, her heart soaring at first when she was able to freely turn the knob. However, her feelings of relief were quickly replaced by more despair when the door opened into yet a smaller room. At least she had a bathroom and didn’t have to squat into a bucket.
But there still wasn’t another door, or any light for that matter.
After several more minutes of exploration, she gave up, a quick sob escaping her throat at her failure. She felt her way back to the lumpy cot, tripping over a chair in the process. When she reached the bed, she threw herself down and curled into a fetal position.
She didn’t understand any of this. One minute she had been at Caritas with Cordelia, and the next minute she was being ushered out of the building, with a gun to her back, by Angel O’Connor.
The only thing he had to say to her as he walked her out of the club was that she had to look relaxed and happy, as if she was enjoying leaving with him. She had been about to refuse to cooperate when the cold steel pressed against her flesh, letting her know that he meant business.
When they got into the waiting car, she was blindfolded and her hands tied. She kept pleading with him over and over to let her go, but Angel ignored her, finally gagging her to keep her quiet. Maybe if she hadn’t called him by his given name, he wouldn’t have been so angry with her.
There had been a time when Buffy knew him as Liam, back when they both went to the same parish. He had been a ruffian even then, running around with other boys of questionable character and always getting into trouble with the law. It didn’t surprise her, years later, when she heard he was working for Bugs Moran, especially since the mob boss recruited boys like Liam for his ranks.
Liam had pursued her romantically for years. Each time he had asked her out on a date, she had politely declined, citing their age difference as the reason. But the cards and gifts had kept coming, one after the other, resulting in her room being filled with delicate porcelain angels. She, and her stepfather, had tried to return the gifts, but to no avail. The next day, another would be on the doorstep waiting for her.
Liam’s attentions continued after graduation, right up until she and Riley got engaged. After the engagement announcement, she didn’t hear from Angel again, figuring he’d finally given up. When news of his marriage to Darla reached Buffy, she had been relieved, knowing that there wouldn’t be any more advances to fend off.
Now this.
As sleep was about to finally take her, there was a loud clunking that echoed off the walls. It was the sound of a key tumbling the lock. Quickly she sat up, her hands reaching for the chair in case she had to use it against whoever was about to come through the door. Her heart pounded and her breathing quickened as she readied herself to fight.
The door opened.
Shielding her eyes from the harsh light spilling in from a naked bulb in the hallway, she couldn’t tell who stood at the door.
“Buffy?” a familiar voice asked.
Relief flooded her senses. She was saved.
The man walked into the room, immediately wrapping his arms around her. “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m here now.”
To be continued in Chapter 5 – Deafening Silence
