The Slayer

Summary: After defeating the First and destroying Sunnydale, Buffy is no longer needed as the one true Slayer due to Willow's spell, which caused all Potential Slayers around the world to become awakened. So, instead, Buffy seeks out a normal life away from Slaying, and a career that will allow her to use her skills and abilities without having to risk her life every night. After saving the life of a man in the alley, she finds herself donning leather and getting physical twice a week, as a professional Mixed Martial Artist. With her Slayer strength and speed, she remains undefeated until one match... Another masked fighter, calling herself "The Exorcist", somehow manages to beat Buffy in the cage match. The next week, Buffy challenges "The Exorcist" to a rematch, and upon beating the mysterious masked fighter, she comes face to face with one of the very reasons she had decide to leave her former life behind: Faith. All at once, she is forced to confront all of her decisions in leaving her life as the Slayer, including her feelings for the Dark Slayer.

Prologue:

Everything changed when we won. After we beat the First, Giles and Xander worked together to build a new Watcher's Organization geared more towards actually helping Slayers instead of controlling them. Giles trained Xander and Dawn to be Watchers, and to train others to be Watchers as well. Willow worked with an English coven of witches to organize the witches worldwide in order to make them more active in assisting the Slayers as well. The witches decided that if they'd been more active all along, then maybe so many innocent Potentials wouldn't have died before we even figured out what was going on and had the chance to gather a few that remained. We might have beaten the First sooner, and casualties wouldn't have been so high.

As for me, with every Potential around the world awakened by Willow's spell, I could finally have the normal life I'd wanted all along. I was done. I left behind the life of a Slayer without ever looking back. I ran away from everything. I know it was a bad choice to leave the way I did, without telling anyone I was leaving, or where I was going. I know it now, have known it for a while now. But it's too late to change it now. Everyone I knew then has spread out, and I don't know where any of them are, or how to contact them. So, I do my best to forget.

I try to forget everything. Slaying. Demons. Vampires. Evil. But most of all, I try to forget about her. Faith.

It hit me hard when I realized the reason she was always able to get under my skin, the reason she could get to me, make me feel like a victim, it was all because I'm in love with her. That's why, when she betrayed us to the Mayor, I took it personally. It didn't feel like she betrayed us. It felt like she betrayed me. I love her. Love. Not loved, love. I haven't seen or spoken to her in five years, ever since right after we beat the First, and I'm still in love with her. I dream of her every night. After I left, I dreamed of us starting to trust each other. Almost building a friendship. But they started getting worse.

A year after I left, I dreamed of us kissing. It was soft and sweet, yet very passionate. And when I woke up, and realized it was just a dream, I cried for three hours, wishing I could take it all back, find her, tell her how I felt. But even then, it was too late.

After that, the dreams started getting worse and worse. Two years after I left, I dreamed we were training. We were pounding against each other, beating each other to a pulp, and sweating profusely. Then, I step wrong, and I slip in a puddle of sweat, ending up on my back. She was going in for another hit, but my feet slip under her, tripping her, and she ends up laying on top of me, our chests pressing into each other, and we stare into each other's eyes for the longest time. Finally, she leans down and kisses me, hungry.

After about a month, the dreams backed off for a while, and our dream selves went back to being just friends. Then, one year ago, they picked back up again. Worse than ever. I tingled when I woke up, still feeling the way she made love to me in my dreams. She was slow and gentle, proving it's real to her, not just some quick fuck. When I come, she kisses me to stifle my scream, and she stays gentle. Then, she says three simple words that jolt me awake, and leave me crying for hours again. Three words that bring back the pain I felt when I left. When I left her behind.

Anyway, I left. I lived out of my suitcase for about six months after I left my old life behind. I took work where I could find it, mostly odd jobs. Then, my luck changed.

I came across someone getting mugged in an alley, and even though I wasn't "the Chosen One" anymore, I still couldn't help but interfere. I sent the mugger packing, his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, and the guy I saved was so grateful, he got me a job. Well, more of a job interview, but there was really no interview involved. Basically, he had me fight a cage match at a local fight club. He got a friend of his to be there at the match, and when I won, a knock-out in the first round, his friend gave me a job at his own fight club. I tried to run away from my life as a Slayer, but it turned out to be the perfect gimmick. I put on a leather outfit two nights a week: Monday and Friday nights, I knock some girl out, and I get paid. I'm kind of a local celebrity, but because a mask is part of my costume, no one knows who I really am except the owner of the fight club and my "agent", the guy I saved in the alley. And my friends, of course. Well, friend. Not plural. I keep mostly to myself, but it's nice to have someone to talk to.

Anyway, I needed the money at first, so I stuck around, and I just got used to it, so I never left, even once I was back on my feet. That was four and a half years ago...

Chapter 1:

"Aaaaaand heeere's your winner! The Chosen One! Theeee Slaaaaaaaayerrrrrrrrrrrr!" The MC shouts, announcing my win against this other girl. Just another girl who thought she'd try fighting the Club Champion. The undefeated Club Champion. Meaning I've never lost. Not since I started here at the club, four and a half years ago. I'm beginning to wonder why these girls still challenge me. I always win. Whether it's a KO in one of the first three rounds or the occasional towel-thrower-inner that surrenders when she realizes I'm just too strong. I can't be human with strength like this. And she's right, she just doesn't know it.

But this girl, Jannice Gurdy, she'd been undefeated for ten weeks. That's twenty matches. And just like that, I knock her out in the second round, and I don't even have a scratch on me. So, there she is, laying on the ground, knocked out cold, and all the guys in the audience, and even some girls, lean forward expectantly. What are they waiting for? My signature. My "agent" suggested that I come up with some kind of signature, something to keep me in the minds of the audience. Because going four and a half years undefeated wouldn't make them remember me. But, I gave in. I tried my best to come up with a signature, but nothing ever stuck. Finally, my "agent" caught me making out with another girl before the night's match, mainly because I was horny, seeing as I hadn't had sex since that last time with Spike, and he was dumbfounded.

It wasn't that I was trying to keep me being bisexual a secret from him, I just never thought it would be relevant. Anyway, so that became my signature. Every time I win my fight, I kiss the loser. That's what the audience is waiting for.

I'm hot. I'm sweaty. The lights in this club, coupled with the intense fighting, the massive amounts of body heat, and even just the arousal of watching another woman get so physical, the way her body moves, it all makes the club feel a hundred degrees hotter than it actually is. I remember how Faith used to say that Slaying made her horny. I said it made me want yogurt. Faith thought that that was code for horny, because I was just one of those innocent types of girls, but I really did crave yogurt after Slaying. But after hanging out and patrolling with Faith, it started getting to me the same way it got to her, because I'd watch her fight the vampires, and it turned me on.

Now, fighting these other women twice a week gets me excited in the same way, and it fuels the raw hotness when I kiss them after beating them. I get turned on, and then I collect my paycheck for the night, and make a beeline for my home. My bedroom, where I strip down, reach into my bedside drawer and pull out my new best friend, and I take care of my "post-fight hornies".

I look down at Jannice. Out cold on the floor. The audience is silent, waiting for my signature exit. I sigh. I drop slowly to one knee, my silver crucifix pendant swaying with my movements. My chest is rising and falling visibly. My other knee hits the ground. I can almost hear the beads of sweat hitting the floor as they fall from the tip of my nose, or my chin. I start to lean over, and everyone in the crowd breathes in. They know what's coming. They expect it. They wait for it. They want it.

My face is inches from hers. I place my right hand on her chest, just between her breasts. My sweat beads down my chest, disappearing into my outfit in the space between my breasts. Her body is slick from the fight, the struggle to try and get the upper hand on me. Her futile attempts to beat me. I could've beaten her in fifteen seconds flat, but I need a way to vent my physical tension, so I always toy with them, make it look like I'm struggling to beat them,when really, I'm struggling to hold back, so I don't really hurt them, and so it lasts as long as possible. I love my job, I really do. It allows me to get physical, and use my instincts and training, while still having a normal life.

I breathe out, and she's starting to come too. She opens her eyes slightly and sees me hovering over her. She opens her mouth to gasp, and that's when I strike.

My lips meet hers, and I let out a moan as my tongue snakes into her mouth, exploring her aggressively. She's too tired and sore and shocked to try and fight back.

Finally, I pull back, panting for breath through my arousal, and the crowd's roars are deafening.

My nails are digging into her back, drawing blood, and she hisses in a breath. It hurts, but I know she's loving every second of it. I'm beyond screaming now, my voice stopped working ten minutes ago. I can't make a sound. I'm physically incapable of making any noise other than the occasional shuddering breath. She moans, loving the scratches, knowing that it's her that's doing this to me, driving me to do it as her fingers slide in and out. Every thrust of hers hits that small bundle of nerves deep inside me, causing dots to appear in my eyes, and my body to shake uncontrollably.

Her wet, hot sex is sliding up and down on my hip, the slick, glistening wetness of it arousing me, furthering my pleasure, driving me to new heights. Finally, after ten long, sweet, yet somehow, far too short, minutes, I come. My inner muscles clench down on her three digits, and she continues her long, slow thrusts. My body is stiff, and I can't breath. She's holding me to her, steadying me as I come down. Our bodies are drenched with sweat, we're exhausted, and we're both breathing so hard. Our lips crash together as she lays me back down, then falls to my side. We pull apart, gasping. She pulls the covers back over us, and holds me close, like she's still afraid I'll leave her.

She looks me in the eye and says something that I know is the truth. I can see it in her eyes. i can feel it in the way her heart is beating a thousand times a second, in the way she makes love to me night after night. I can hear it in the way she's breathing. I don't know what it is, but I jus get this feeling from it that makes me feel the truth in her words. I can see the truth in the tears rolling down her face. Tears of joy, and fear.

"I love you." Faith says to me.

I wake up. I don't sit up or open my eyes, I just lay in bed, trying desperately to get the dream out of my head, fighting back the tears. I don't want it to be just a dream. I want it to be real so bad. Not just because I was having sex with Faith, but because I could actually feel the love. It was real, to both of us. And if it had had anything to do with an impending apocalypse, I'd have sworn it was a Slayer dream, like Faith was having the same dream as I was, and that it was really her that was making love to me, and not just some figment of my imagination. Some very powerful figment of my imagination.

I sit up after a while, knowing I can't stay in bed all day. I have plans for the day. I can feel my sheets drenched. The dream was so real. I was sweating in my sleep, enough to nearly take a bath, and I can actually smell sex in the air. And with that, I realize that the dream really had affected me. Like it had actually happened, even though that was impossible. Faith is... gone. Or I am, anyway. I left her and everyone else behind years ago. Now I really need to wash these sheets. I actually came in my sleep. That's a first. That never happened. But this dream was so real. I wipe my tears away and use the sheet to wipe myself off between my legs, and I get out of bed.

I strip my bed and throw my sheets and blankets into the washing machine, but I don't start it yet. I need a shower first.

I stand under the cold water for ten minutes. I'm shivering, but the heat from that dream doesn't fade or settle. I'm really shaken up at how real it was to me. It was almost like she was actually here, doing that stuff to me. I can still feel it. My knees are still a bit weak from it. I've never been affected by a dream this way before. Finally, I give up. I turn the water off and dry myself off, hugging the towel around me for warmth. I look in the mirror, and my lips are starting to turn slightly blue.

Luckily, I'm still a Slayer, even if I don't Slay anymore, so the cold fades quickly, and I'm back to normal before I'm done getting dressed. I start the washing machine on my way out the front door.

"Hey, Cara." I say to my friend with a smile as I walk up to her in the coffee shop.

"Uh-oh." She says instantly.

"What?" I ask her, thoroughly confused by her reaction.

"You dreamed about her again, didn't you?" She asks, concernedly. I wonder how the hell she does that? She's like a sex dream radar. She can always tell when I dreamed about Faith during the night. So, I ask her. "It's a gift. I know you, Buffy. So? Spill."

I sigh in defeat. I've long since given up on trying to hide anything like this from Cara. "It's really nothing new. Same as usual lately." She glares at me when I stop, urging me to continue. I sigh again. "We're having sex. I'm bloodying her back up, scratching her, and I have literally the most intense orgasm I've ever had. Better than the last one she gave me in my dream."

"So... nothing unusual about it?"

"Not really... Except..."

"I knew it! What happened?!" She's squirming with excitement. Cara is completely straight, never even wanted to experiment with other girls in college. But, she's very comfortable around me, and I'm comfortable around her, so she's actually pretty active in my love life, or my lack thereof.

"The dream... This time... It may have affected me... outside of the dream..."

"Oh... my... god." She says slowly as it registers what I'm saying. I wince, knowing my point has gotten across. "You came in your sleep?!" She asks, accusingly.

"Shh!" I hush her forcefully. "I don't think the people in Japan heard you!"

"Damn. Maybe I should try saying it louder then." She teases, but I glare at her anyway.

"Look, just keep it down, will you?!"

"Sorry. So... how long were you under the cold water this time?"

"Can we please change the subject?" I plead with her. "I'm trying to forget about her, okay?"

"Hon, you've been trying to forget her for five years. It's not working. Face it, Buffy, you're in love with her. That's not just going to go away because you're trying to ignore it." She sips her coffee as we sit in silence.

I slump backwards in my seat. "I know." I groan. "I just... I wish I could make it stop. I want it to go away. It hurts."

She shoots me a look of sympathy. "I know, sweetie." She hesitates before she continues. Then, with a deep breath, "Maybe... Maybe you should try and track her down. Take a vacation from work or something, if they'll let you do that, and find her. Tell her how you feel, apologize for leaving... Take a chance with her."

"No." I say without even thinking about it. "I have a good life here. I love my life here. I'm not giving that up."

"Who said anything about giving it up?"

"If I track her down, I'll have to give it all up. You don't understand, Cara, if I try to find her, or my sister, or any of my old friends, I'll get roped back into my old life, and I don't want that. I love my new life. I love my new job. It pays well, and I get to vent my natural aggression in a way that won't get me arrested. I have a great friend, the club takes care of me, and I don't have to worry about my old life catching up with me."

"My god! You are so fucking stubborn!" She says incredulously. "She's going to haunt you for the rest of your life with that question "What if?" and you're just going to take it like a bitch! Take my advice! Find her! Even if she rejects you, you'll know the answer to that question, and you can get on with your life! Yeah, it'll hurt like a mother, but you'll get over that, and you'll finally be able to find someone new!"

We sit in an uncomfortable silence for the longest time, drinking our coffee. Until my cup is empty, that is, and I can't avoid speaking any longer.

"Look... it's been five years. Even if I did try to find her, I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Two letters for you, hon: "P" and "I"."

"Pi? What does that have to do with anything? I hate math!"

"No, not "pi"." She laughs. ""PI". Private Investigator. Hire one, and have them to the tracking down for you. Then, you show up on her doorstep and sweep her off her feet."

"She's not the type to get swept off her feet." I explain, and she groans in frustration.

"Fine! Then... I don't know, just do something to win her over."

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, I'd try not stabbing her in the gut with her own knife."

It's my turn to groan. Yes, Cara knows about that. And she knows about Faith's past as a killer. And she knows about Faith going to prison, then escaping, and trying for redemption. And most of all, she knows all about me being a Slayer. She knows the whole story, and she's cool with it.

"Trust me, Buffy! You'll thank me for forcing you into this later."

"You act like there's no way this won't all work out perfectly, and that she'll fall madly in love with me."

"What's not to love?"

"Let's see, I stabbed her, put her in a coma, kicked her ass on numerous occasions, and didn't even visit her in prison. And on top of all that, just when we're finally starting to build a friendship together that's shaky at best, I abandon her and everyone else I've ever known." I say she's cool with the whole supernatural bits of my past, but it's more like she's obsessed with it. Excuse me, fascinated.

"Okay, good point. I can see how that might piss some people off. But from what you've told me, she's done a lot of bad shit to you, too. Tried to frame you for a murder she committed, killed another person, switched bodies with you and tried to take over your life, leaving you to take the fall for everything she's ever done, slept with your boyfriend, and tried to kill you and everyone you cared about. And yet, you still love her."

I groan again. "I know. I'm fucked up in the head."

She laughs at that. "Yeah, you really are. But, that's what love does to people."

"Speaking of which... How'd it go with Mr. Right?" I ask, eager to change the subject.

"Ugh... Mr. Wrong you mean. Long story short, he brought me roses, took me to a three hour long chick flick, then we went out for Chinese food."

"He didn't!" I say sarcastically. But the sarcasm is lost on her.

"I know! My profile clearly says that I'm allergic to roses, I hate Chinese food, and I only watch chick flicks with my girl friends. Any other time, and it better be action, comedy, or horror. God, don't guys even pay attention to online profiles anymore."

"Only the pictures of yourself. They see a picture of a woman, think "Oh! Breasts!" and click like."

She laughs out loud. "Sounds about right to me!"

"Yup." I agree, smiling.

"So. You gonna hire that PI?" She asks.

I rest my head on my arms.

"Yeah, you only thought you'd changed the subject, huh?" She teases me.