RATING: NC17
PAIRING: FAITH/FEM
SUMMARY: Assume all but two died in the final battle.

NOTE: The fem that is in it is not EXACTLY spelled out, but there are a couple hints. But remember, this is 10 years from now.

THANK YOU TO: Ryan, Sanne, Evil Wills, Anne, Ali, Benita, felisblanco, Heather, William's Girl, Pohlin, Kim, Val, Jaime & Shippy

Please enjoy with tissues and send lots of praise and encouragement!

I glance up at the sky and I can see the clouds rolling in. I can *feel* them in my blood, I always could. But the rains'll cool us off. The inescapable heat causes my beer bottle to sweat and the perspiration outlines my fingers as it continues to the wood below, a few drops occasionally landing on my bare toes.

I never really wanted to stay in *this* house, but she fell in love with it. More to the point, we've got nowhere else to be, nothing else to go to and to tell the truth, after almost ten years of aimless wandering, it *is* nice to have a place to call our own.

I lift the bottle to my lips and I've only had it out of the fridge maybe twenty minutes and it's already warmed up. But as it trails down my throat, it's still cooler than the air around me.

The clouds come closer and I watch as the sky grows dark, angry, much like it did that night- that day; it got so dark for so long, we lost track.

"Faith?" She whispers as she opens the door, but I knew she was comin'. I know what her feet sound like on the floor. I know how her legs rub together when she's walking across a room. I know the gentle smile that turns seductive when we begin to make love.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Storm's coming," she states and slides her fingers over my arm before covering my hand and taking the beer from me.

"Yeah."

"I closed the door to the cellar."

"Good," I smile. I don't usually say much. Anything I have to say, I say with my fingers or my mouth when we're in bed, before we go to sleep.

I never *intended* to be here with her and I certainly never thought of myself and her as anything that could ever happen. But… we left Sunnydale together after we watched our families perish. And we just… found solace in each other. Not at first. At first, she would just curl up next to me in bed and we would sleep. And after we stopped waking from nightmares, she would lie beside me and sleep.

And then… one night, maybe seven years or so again, she came to bed, held up on an elbow and placed her other hand on my stomach softly, gently slipping it under my shirt and I arched my back into her touch and my nipples began to ache. And then- she just… kissed me, gently at first. But solace and passion and sorrow blur into our kisses and what started as comfort grew to love.

And it doesn't matter to me who she is or what she was- because I have no memories of her either way. She's just a woman to me; and she's beautiful.

The rain starts to fall gently at first, little drops on the ground, on the roof above our heads, but it soon picks its own rhythm and it *does* cool the air just a bit- that refreshing rain.

I walk to the edge of the porch and the spray from the rain hits my body and the rain drips from off the roof and splashes my bare breasts and follows my curves right down to my toes. Oh yes- we often walk around the house naked. What else is there to do? The house is in the middle of an old cornfield. No one knows we exist and we prefer it that way because we'd rather *not*.

"Feels nice- the cool," she observes.

"Yes," I reply. "Been too hot lately."

I hear her footsteps nearing me and I feel her body an inch from mine. I feel her presence all around me and yet I still jolt a bit when her finger pulls my hair over one of my shoulders and her hands start at my shoulders and slide down my arms gently.

"I love you," she whispers before placing her mouth on the back of my neck for a slow soft kiss.

"I love you too," I reply before covering her hands with my own as she cups my breasts. Her hands always feel so small to me when she's holding me, but I *know* what those hands can do.

A flash of lightening streaks across the sky as she presses her body against me and I pull her hands and spin around so I can press her against the beam that holds the porch up.

I seek her lips hungrily. Somehow, rain always gives me an appetite for… flesh. Perhaps it's the pelting of the rain on the roof or the occasional thunder that cracks over our heads. I'm not sure. But her lips are just as hungry, her tongue just as curious.

Her hand slides from my shoulder to the back of my neck and I *love* when she does that. She massages my scalp a bit, even as the spray starts to slicken our bodies, as if the humidity of our skin wasn't enough.

I tear my lips away from hers to devour her neck, tasting the fresh rain as I do. "Faith-" she gasps as I suck on neck. I bite her lightly before pulling my lips away.

We both instinctively fall to our knees and her small hands draw my hips closer to hers. I wonder if she can feel my presences as I can hers. One would think so- after ten years. But I'm not entirely sure it's not a slayer thing; not that I have anyone to ask about anything slayer-related.

As far as the world is concerned, we ceased to exist, if we even existed at all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see… a blanket? Minx.

She knew what she was looking for when she came out here.

I pull my mouth away long enough to grab the blanket and throw it out on the floor before I pull her down with me.

The wind carries little splashes of rain onto my skin and the pelting of the rain on my feet as they hang off the top step of the porch cools me off a bit.

Her hands travel my body on paths they know so well. Still, ever soft and gentle, yet hungry and wanting all at the same time. I often wonder if that's just the way she is or if it's eons of magic poured into her fingers for my pleasure.

But no matter, she lifts my thigh and I feel her stroke me softly. A moan escapes my lips and her tongue kisses the sound.

I roll on top of her; careful not to crush her and I press my lips against her and feel her tongue meet my own in a soft but hungered fury.

I drop my tongue onto her chin and drag it down her neck between her breasts to her navel. I spend a minute there, tasting a few raindrops, before she spreads her legs in earnest and my finger dances around her, tickling her sensitive flesh.

My tongue sweeps up her sex once and twice and she mewls a bit and I gently push my tongue between her labia before quickly retracting it, which earns me more of a growl.

"Please, Faith," she whimpers and I feel her fingers at the base of my scalp again, gently rubbing my neck.

I use my thumbs to open her to me before flicking my tongue over her distended clit. That earns me a moan and a few more times gets me a "please, Faith, please".

My tongue dances around her opening before I thrust it inside and stretch it inside her. Yeah- Slayer muscles? Pretty much a great thing. Or maybe I've just had too much practice.

Seconds turn to minutes and I turn my mouth's attention to kissing her for a while. I treat her entrance as her mouth and just kiss her deeply, which she always loves.

Mmm- her hands are buried in my hair and she's panting, barely breathing, writhing against my mouth and I love when she's like this, when *we're* like this. We can almost forget the horrible circumstances that brought us here in the first place. Because I *know* had we just never lost everyone and everything, we never would have had *this*.

I bring her to the edge once and twice and three times but never let her go over. I know my lover's body well. I know how much pleasure she can take, and how much denied pleasure she can handle.

And yet- it's nothing *I* do to make her finally scream and come, kissing me back. It's a loud crack of thunder directly above our heads that scares her and her body provides release.

---------

We're not perfect. *I* am not perfect. But as the rains continue into the late evening and we're entwined in a lover's embrace on the porch swing, we can almost pretend.

We can almost pretend that we *don't* regret being slightly happy that we *did* find each other, even if all our family and friends had to die first.

But during the fight, I never imagined we'd be the last two standing.

However, I'm more than sure had it been Angel and her, or Xander and I, or Spike and Willow- whoever had been the two left behind- the two who did *not* die for the greater good, the two left behind would be exactly where we are now.

The sad, grueling, torturous, blissfully painful yet loving calm after the storm.

THE END