Message: 10 Date: Tue, 09 Apr 2002 20:46:34 -0400 From: Prophecy Girl Subject: [Fic] Last One Standing TITLE: Last One Standing AUTHOR: Prophecy Girl (golightly@indiegirl.net) RATING: PG-13 SYNOPSIS: Faith's always on her own. DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except the story itself. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place during "Who Am I?" Because it's *wrong*. I mouthed those words over and over again, staring in the mirror, studying my new body and face. Despite us all having the same basic setup underneath our skin, everyone moves differently. Her mouth is easier to move than mine, the jaw not so clenched up from stress and anger and fear. Her fingers are longer than mine, and I can't help a smirk as I think what they could do. It doesn't look right with her face, though. I turn away from the mirror, not allowing myself to get creeped out. Tonight is my night, just mine.. <><> The Bronze is crowded, as usual. Red's little girlfriend goes off to use the bathroom before they leave, and I almost smirk at her back, but remember the mirror and stop. I figure Tara.. Sara.. whatever her name is will be a few minutes, blowing her nose and wiping the tears away. Hey, I say if you can't take a little teasing you should stay at home and listen to Sarah Mclachlan. Real world's a bitch. So skinny little Wicca girl sits next to me, fidgeting and chewing on her lip. Bad habit, makes them raw--and there's much better ways to do that. Much better. "So," I say flatly, not really inviting any further conversation. She looks at me, and I look back with Buffy's best Fuck Me eyes. She looks away quickly and shivers ever so slightly. So, blondie's a replacement. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shame on you, Red. Toying with her feelings when I have what you really want right here. I rest Buffy's hand on Will's thigh. She jumps. "So," she answers, her voice a little shaky. I curl her fingers a little, stroking.. tempting.. Come home with *me* tonight, baby.. I'll make you shiver. Those Fuck Me eyes again.. And she wants to say yes, she's going to say yes.. "W-Willow?" Fuck me. The spell's broken and Red pulls back like my hand was made of god damn lye or something. Tara-Sara-Blondiedyke is standing there, fumbling with the hem of her shirt and looking injured. Boo-hoo. But Willow, ever the little lapdog, gets up with an apologetic look and takes her hand. They go. And here I am, alone again. Even in Buffy's body. There's something just so god damn ironic about that. Don't dream it, be it, -Prophecy Girl- ----------------------------- Sarcasm. Just one more service we offer at indiegirl.net. "We're not harassing you, we're your groupies." BUFFY: You don't know how hard it is. Lying to everyone you love about who you're sleeping with. TARA: Sweetie, I'm a fag. I been there. - Cut scene from Dead Things My fic - http://www.indiegirl.net/fanfic My ficlist - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/oh_the_places