And I Would Be The One To Hold You Down; Kiss You So Hard...

Setting: Somewhere in Season Seven. A few things are different. Faith never went after Angel in Los Angeles after “Who Are You?,” just hid out there. Thus she’s not in jail and is still a bad ass. Giles is back from England with Willow, and the whole Spike/Buffy relationship never happened, because I find it weird.

Rating: NC-17. It contains sex (that's tecnically consensual) between two girls. So if that bothers you: scoot, flee, watch Teletubbies, go to an Eminem website. I really don't care. Unlike the characters in my story, you are not bound to a chair and being forced to read what I write. Actually, I'm kidding. At no point is anyone bound to a chair. Maybe in my next story. :) There's also a small amount of violence, and hints of bondage. It's not as skanky as it sounds, I swear..I hope.

Disclaimer: All chracters belong to Joss Whedon. I just play with them. Title comes from "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan



Seldom can a single demon get an experienced Slayer to retreat, let alone run for her life. And yet this is the predicament Buffy Summers currently found herself in as the brown, leathery figure made another lunge for her with amazing agility and speed. She was at a dead run, but the demon was continuing to gain on her. With each connection her feet made with the ground a jolt of pain shot through her and she was reminded of the nasty slashes across her back, given to her by her current pursuer.

It occurred to her how ironic the scene was, and decided at that very moment that she wasn’t going to let this demon get the better of her. She spun around quickly and bared her sword at the creature. “Alright, let’s see how well you play on the defense.” She said, her expression hardening as the demon continued it’s run towards her without blinking an eye. The length between them was closing as Buffy stood there, bracing herself for the contact that was about to come. Her limbs were aching and were becoming surprisingly heavy, but she passed that off as sheer exersion from the amount of running she’d just put in.

The creature was a mere stride or two away from her now, and as it lunged Buffy quickly stepped to the side, letting it fly past her and swung around fast enough to make contact with the sword.

It was a solid hit.

With the sword protruding from the side, the beast slunk to the grassy floor, and made one final attempt to catch his prey before falling forever dormant to the ground.

Too tired to make any witty puns about her recent slay, she lethargically meandered over to the demon, wrenched out the sword, and wiped each side of the silvery metal weapon on the grass, ridding it of the creatures blue blood. All off a sudden a great wave of dizziness swept over her, and she would have crumpled to the ground had she not reacted and sunk the tip of the sword into the dirt and leaned on it for support.

“I’ve gotta stop slacking off on my practice. A single demon shouldn’t have been...” Her sentence was cut short when she realized it was becoming increasingly more difficult to make her appendages move.

Panic began to overtake her. Home was nearly two blocks away, and the night was still young, leaving her open and defenseless against attacks by vampires. Concentrating so hard that her face took on a distorted expression, she managed to conjole her limbs to obey her wishes, and began walking, rather sloth-like, towards the Summer residence.

She had made it nearly an entire block when her legs could take no more and gave out on her. The hand clutching the sword lost it’s ability to grasp, making it crash to the pavement with a ringing noise. For a moment Buffy stood there motionless, before the effects of this sudden paralysis took hold and she, like the sword, crashed to the hard ground, face first.

As she lay there helpless she felt blood trickling down the side of her face, and deciphered she had fallen quite hard. How the mighty have fallen. Literally. She thought. Time seemed to pass slowly as the night drew closer to day, and Buffy was beginning to wonder if the gang was aware of her absence. Her fears were erased when she heard someone shout her name and footsteps falling faster and closer. Whoever it was knelt down next to her, putting their hand on her back reassuringly.

“Buffy, what happened? Are you alright?” The guys voice, ebbed with concern, asked.

“Xander...” she croaked out. “Can’t.. .move.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He scooped the light-weight slayer up into his arms and ran as fast as he could back to the Summer’s house.



At that same time, a certain rogue brunette awoke with a start in her motel room in Los Angeles. The dream had seemed unbelievably real. It was as though she had been right there watching her fight the leathery creature, and witnessing the blonde Slayer’s slow descent to immobility. She tried to assure herself that it was just a dream, and not real. Except it occurred to her that the dreams of slayers usually tended to ring true in life.

A smile spread across her face when she thought about how vulnerable the older slayer was at the moment. How easy it would be to finally get her revenge for being thrown into a coma for eight months, for being ignored, for not being taken seriously.

She’d show her now, she thought, as she rose from the bed, packed up her things, and headed out to the bus station to buy a ticket for the earliest departure to Sunnydale, CA.



Giles made a face as he looked over Willow’s shoulder, at what she was drawing, noting mentally how disproportioned she’d drawn the body. Willow was many good things, however an artist was not one of them. She flipped it towards Buffy, who was laying on the couch, and asked quite tentatively. “Did it look something like this?”

“Yes.” Buffy forced out. Speaking was becoming more and more difficult for her as the time went on. “Narrower…eyes. Almost…slits.” She whispered. The watcher looked more closely at the demon’s profile now, when it suddenly hit him as he made his way over to the pile of books he’d brought over to the Slayer’s house. He picked up a book entitled “Poisionous and Disarming Demons,” and flipped through it for a few minutes until he came to the page he was searching for. He walked over to Buffy. Willow was still trying to redraw the eyes.

“Something like this?” He asked, holding the book out so she could see, confident the answer would be yes.

The answer, however, was not a “Yes.” Instead he was met by a widening of blue eyes and an empathetic “Mmm-Hmm.”

“Can’t speak?” He inquired in a fatherly tone. The slayer gave silence as her answer, and he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, smiling at her reassuringly before he sat down in the chair opposite her and began to give the exposition for the demon.

“It’s a Katalepsis demon. As we’ve already discovered, it disarms it’s prey by rendering them unable to move. Then it peels off the victims’ skin, while they’re still alive, and eats it.” Everybody but Buffy gave a look of distaste. She would have to, as well as a witty remark, if she were able.

The watcher went on. “Interestingly enough, it also feeds on pain as well as the flesh of it’s prey, and so the venom it injects into them intensifies their sense of feeling. The good news is that it wears off in about two days. For a slayer that’s probably a little less than a day. Other than that, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do to speed along the process. How do you feel? Blink once if good, twice if bad.” She blinked once, even though the side of her face that had met the pavement was throbbing with pain.

“Well, it’s around 9:30, sleep might help wear it off. Are you tired? Once if yes, twice if no.” She blinked once. Dawn was coming home in about an hour, and she didn’t want her sister to see her like this. Sleeping through most of it sounded very good to her.

“Xander.” Xander, who had been pacing about the room for the last half hour turned toward the Brit. “Will you carry Buffy up to her room and put her into bed?”

Xander nodded with a small smile on his face, very relieved that his friend’s condition wasn’t permanent. “Sure thing.”



Buffy lay in bed, her head tilted to one side, unable to fall asleep despite the tiredness that was gripping her. She practiced trying to tense her muscles, but without luck. It had been at least three hours since Xander and Willow had brought her up to bed. Willow had carefully helped her change into sleeping wear, desperately trying not to make contact with Buffy's flesh, as she knew the blonde was currently very sensitive. She felt as though she was somehow invading Buffy, causing her to blush with embarrassment and mutter apologies throughout the entire process. After the changing was complete, Xander entered once more to tuck her in and threaten to read her a children's book before she went to sleep.

"Come on Buff, it's 'Hide and Seek with Grover.' How can you turn that down? I'll even do the Grover-voice!" Miraculously, she did manage to convey her lack of a need for a bedtime story by the hardening glare of her eyes.

Except, now that she thought about it, she kind of wished he had, if only to bore her into a sleep. Or more likely keep her company for a little while longer. Because Buffy currently found herself in what she felt was an irritating and compromising situation. Thoughts kept racing through her head, and her skin felt like it was racing and wanting to jump off her bones. Add to this that her nose was very itchy, and was unable to be itched.

Xander had also left her body in a position that, at the time, had seemed perfectly comfortable but was now making her muscles ache. Her neck had become sore from her head being tilted to one side, and her arms lay at her side, cramping painfully. However, this slight pain was balanced, if not exceeded by the feel of the blankets wrapped around her, and the rub of the fabric from her boxers and favorite worn-out t-shirt. Due to her heightened sense, the friction caused a slight and constant tingling sensation throughout the entire course of her body.

She closed her eyes, thinking it might bring about unconsciousness, but opened them a few minutes later, without success.

And the sight that met her eyes made her muscles want to clench. Mere inches from her, kneeling down beside her bed and looking at her quite intensely, was none other than the dark slayer.

Faith, upon noticing she'd gotten the still Slayers' attention, smiled widely. "Hey B, that's quite a bruise you've got on your face." Faith began conversationally. She had snuck in quietly, afraid that her premonition had been off. All her worries were abolished when she saw the reddened cheek, the exact spot she remembered Buffy making contact with the cement as she fell. "Had the weirdest dream tonight." Faith said excitedly. "Well? Wanna know what it was?" She playfully took the silence as a yes. "It was about you. Paralyzed." Her smile widened, causing the dimples in her cheeks to deepen, as she gracefully pulled a knife she had been concealing somewhere within her clothes. With equal grace, she rose slightly, getting onto Buffys' bed and straddling the panicked Slayer between her legs.

The contact caused an internal groan and involuntary shuddering of the eyelids. She forced them open, trying to fight the abundance of feelings washing over her, to concentrate on what the unstable slayer was about to do next. "I almost feel bad. It seems so unnoble of me to take advantage of your state. Yet, how more foolish I would be not to." Faith looked down at the vulerable Slayer, irritated to find Buffy's head still turned to the side, not looking at her. "Here let me help you." She said, faking concern. As she spoke she took Buffys' chin in her hand and turned her face forward, so green eyes met a pool of intense, dark brown eyes. She couldn't help but comment on the softness of Faiths' hand, and the burning sensation that spread from where the initial contact was made to the far regions of her body.

"This is cool, B. You're totally posable. Like a doll." Faith chuckled, leaning in closer to the blonde. "Or a dancer in Madonna's 'Vogue' video. Ya know? Strike a pose." She smiled charmingly. "Wonder what other positions I could put you in." Faith's husky voice whispered seductively. Perhaps she noticed her tangent, but the brunette quickly shifted from playful back to all-business. "Anyway, where was I?" She paused, regaining her train of thought. "Oh yeah. Having bad feelings. I mean, I consider myself to be a fair person. So if I had a conscious of any sort, which you've assured me that I do not, I'd feel a little guilty."

The brunette shifted her weight on the blonde, causing a slight friction between the two. Buffy silently grunted as the movements made the areas of contact tingle with delight and her head spin. Her elevated awareness picked up on Faith's heavy breathing as it hit her neck. The accumulation of these small motions and occurences was building up within her, becoming almost unbearable. She tried to disconnect herself from the odd attraction she was feeling towards the rebel at the moment, but the contact was too much. She had no choice but to succumb to whatever was taking hold of her.

"I admit, I regret that you're not gonna be able to feel the pain when I jam this knife in your gut, right were you nailed me." Buffy was confused for a moment, until she realized Faith thought that Buffy was not only unable to move, but completely numb. Faith's smile disappeared as she leaned in even closer to Buffy, trailing the tip of her knife along her victims' jaw line, starting from below the ear to the chin, and eventually trailing down her neck. The pressure she was applying wasn't enough to draw blood, but made Buffy want to shiver with strange delight, and throw an angry punch at the same time.

"I guess it's the price I'll have to pay for such an easy target." Faith lifted the knife and brought it back up to Buffy's face, dragging it across Buffy's cheek, pressing down harder until the skin gave way to the blade. A slight trickle of blood emerged from the cut, and wandered down her skin. The pain was so intense that Buffy managed to make a slight gurgling sound in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. Faith drew back, surprised by the Slayer's reaction.

"Well, this is a new development to the plot. You can feel." Buffy had no choice but to continue to look into the eyes of a stunned slayer, who sat pondering what route she would now take with this newfound information. Faith sighed heavily, and remained in a pensive state for a few more moments, before continuing. "This is even better, then. I mean, I could do anything to you, and you'd feel every minute of it." Faith smiled mischievously. "For example..." Her voice trailed off as she seductively leaned into the immobilized Slayer, playfully taking the blonde's lower lip between her teeth, alternating between biting gently and sucking and massaging with her tongue.

Buffy's eyes closed, fully taking in the sensations pulsing through her nerves with quickening speed. Just when she decided that it would be okay if this continued until her nerve endings exploded, the brunette slowly pulled away, chuckling quietly.

"Just kidding, B. That'd be downright evil of me to make you subject to such a form of..torture." She quirked an eyebrow, observing the other's flushed features. Her expression hardened, taking on a more serious disposition. "One thing I'm not getting, is why the tears? I mean, you've gotten worse cuts then that. Don't tell me you've gone soft." She playfully poked at Buffy's stomach, mentally noting it's firmness and deducing that the Slayer had indeed not slacked off on her training. She thought back to the days when they had practiced together. How the sweat would bead on the blondes body, soaking her white tank-top and making her glow. Her muscle tone had been quite impressive then, and Faith was curious to get a peak at how far she had come along since. It was at this point of her thought that she realized she had mentally strayed, and shook her head, swiftly returning to her original thoughts.

"Looks like you need me around to keep you on your toes. I mean, obviously not right now. Now I need to keep you on your back and unmoving. Don't wanna make this too hard. I prefer a still target." She smiled again, reveling in what she made out as looks of confusion and anger dwelling in the girl's soft green eyes. "So B, what would hurt you the most?" She shifted her weight on her prey, and leaned in again to close the distance between their faces. Buffy could feel each breath the other girl made hit her skin which was beginning to form a layer of condensation. The girl's close proximity was causing her body temperature to sky-rocket. "Which of the five torture groups would you like to start with? Blunt, sharp, cold, hot, or loud?" She pretended to wait for an answer, and feigned disappointment when one wasn't given. "Ah c'mon B, it's so much more fun with audience participation. No? Alright, well, since I've already got the knife at hand..or, in hand, we'll start with that."

She hastily jumped off the bed, leaving Buffy's line of vision and pacing about the room as she planned out the order of the places in which she'd cut. "First things first, can't have you all covered up for the process." She stealthily meandered toward the bed, moving back into the blonde's sight. Looking down intensely at her helpless victim, she pulled the covers off of her. Buffy wasn't sure if it was the sudden cold air or Faith's eyes that affected her body, but she could feel her nipples tense, and knew for certain that this arousal could be seen through her shirt. And it wasn't only her upper body that was currently being affected. A certain area of the lower extremities was pulsating, a fact that caused the Slayer to blush with embarrassment and need.

Using her knife, Faith slowly and deliberately made a show of bringing the blade closer to the neckline of Buffy's shirt. "Hope this isn't one of your favorite shirts." She lifted the shirt up a bit, and tore the knife through the material, leaving soft skin exposed. Admiring her handiwork, or perhaps something else, Faith finished the unveiling by grabbing the shirt and tearing it the rest of the way from the other girl's body, and throwing it across the room where it landed with a soft thud. "Shall we get started, then?"



It took everything in me to not let my jaw drop at the sight of her. And then something in me on reserve that allowed me to choke on the words, "Shall we get started, then?" When I had discovered that Buffy was not only paralyzed, but coul also feel, obviously the idea ran through my head. She was at my mercy, unable to fend off my advances. I could ravish her like I'd always wanted to do, and I'm not exactly sure why, but I had decided not to. I mean, sure, I had sucked on her lip, just toying with the idea of taking it farther. But, for some reason unknown to me, a certain sense of propriety and nobleness overtook me, and my conscious, (who knew I had one?) reprimanded me, reminding me of the extent of such a violation.

And that's something I could understand. I mean, I've had my share of unwanted molestation in the past. My step-father, being the most prominent of them all. But hey, let's not get too off topic. I decided that I could never do that to anyone, even if that anyone happened to be a defenseless Buffy. Which really only added to my frustration and anger, considering that everything I've ever done to this girl was out of some twisted form of love. So, I settled on just torturing her immensely instead. Yeah, I know I'm very considerate.

And it's not like I hadn't seen Buffy's body before. When I was in her body, I more than familiarized myself with it, if you know what I mean. I took one very long bath, trying to commit to memory every freckle, scar and other small details to memory. I know what you're all really wondering. If I explored lower territories. Well, for some reason that seemed to be a different situation which, due to the lack of appearance by my newly discovered conscience, was completely okay. Yeah, I explored. But this situation was different.

Because, now Buffy was looking back at me. And whereas everything I did before was felt by me only, this time she would be able to feel everything I did to her. And while I hated her and wanted to hurt her, I didn't want to hurt her like that. Because, truth be known, I didn't want her to think of me going down on her as painful. Call it selfish. Call it selfless. It's probably somewhere in between. But I would much rather have her last conception of me be of a murderer, not a rapist and murderer.

Anyway, as I looked down on her exposed body, I completely forgot what I was there for. She was just..so beautiful. Everything the poet's go on about, about the heart catching in your chest, and jaw-dropping to the floor. That was happening to me. My pulse was going a mile a minute. You know all the cliches. I never believed any of them, thought they were just a way to try and convey artificial or mediocre feelings. But now I can attest that each and everyone, while corny and overused, are completely true.

Swallowing hard, I slowly moved closer, resuming my earlier position on top of her. I noticed her eyes flinch, and I couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. Here she was, being the good samiritan, protecting the innocent, slaying demons and such. She finally gets wounded from one, and here I come to take advantage. But hey, payback's a bitch. This girl stuck a knife in my gut. She deseves this. Or..did I deserve it?

That's of little importance if I deserved it. I mean, sure. I shot her boyfriend with a poisoned arrow and missed on purpose just so she would have to watch him die an excruciating death. But you can understand my position, right? I was jealous and had at this point completely accepted that she was never going to return the feelings I had for her, due to her being well, completely straight and into soul boy. So, I had no choice but to make her pay.

But of course with my luck, there had to be a remedy. Which, had to end up being the blood of a slayer. Poetic justice, she had called it.

I lazily trailed the blade across her flesh, not really focusing on the torture aspect anymore, but more on the, oh-my-god-her-breasts-are-absolutely-stunning aspect. Of course, I had to pretend as though this wasn't what I was really doing, because I could feel Buffy's eyes burning into me, reminding me of my decision. And the fact that she was looking at me so intensely, only made me self conscious, which fueled the anger I've felt towards her for the past four years. So I pressed down on the knife as it slid diagnally across her abdomen. As the skin was pierced and torn I could faintly hear a slight gurgling in her throat again. Her eyes fluttered shut, releasing me of their intense gaze.

I continued the process, each shallow slice producing an equally exhilirating gurgling sound. Each time I heard it a shiver ran down my back. Her entire body lay seige to my blade, although I found myself avoiding her chest. I just couldn't bring myself to desecrate her breasts. It would be like crashing a museum and tearing apart one of kind pieces of art.

After awhile I chanced a glance up to Buffy's face to notice that tears were escaping from her scrunched up eyes. Setting the knife down on the night-stand I bent down and gently kissed the skin where one of her tears had lay unmoving on her cheek. I don't know why. It was just an overpowering need. And I couldn't help but notice that as I did it, instead of being met by a gurgling sound, an almost inaudible moan could be heard.

Surprised by the reaction, I leaned back, taking in the sight that lay before me. White bed sheets had splotches of red, mostly outlining the blonde's lithe form. My breath hitched as I observed the amount of cut marks I had inflicted upon her. Just like everything else I do, I had gone overboard on the sharp torture group. She was looking at me again, no doubt with a great deal of contempt. I tried to find something absolutely scathing and hurtful to say, but nothing came to mind. Even if something had, I'm not sure my voice was in working order.

My anger rose another notch. I was supposed to be feeling satisfied and yet here I was, completely miserable and far from feeling better. This beautiful girl before me, whom I loved with all of my twisted heart, was crying and hating me. I could never go back from this. This time I'd royally fucked things up. There was really no point in holding back, anymore. She was never going to forgive me anyway, or love me for that matter. Before I fully grasped what I was doing, I had thrown all inhibitions to the wind, and was kissing her quite roughly on her lips. I was about to add a sixth torture group.