 hard to get through to her, but she never would have let me in anyway. Then she turned to him for help. She gave him her trust, something I'll never even see a glimpse of.
She doesn't reply for the longest time. In the span of seconds, the tension rises. It makes the hairs along my arms bristle. It takes a second for me to register that it's not just the situation.
I can feel the power rising, even at this distance. The fight has all ready started and Willow's hidden away in the castle, starting the spell that's going to make him powerless. That was the plan. 
"That's what you never got," Faith finally chuckles, startling me. "He wasn't my savior."
I snort, `cause I knew; I knew that she only went to Angel `cause she knew I trusted him and she needed that then. Shaking my head, I drop down to sit on the edge of the dock. I let my legs dangle over the side, feeling the spray of the ocean soak into my jeans. I don't look at her as she moves around to my side and joins me, sitting close enough to make me uncomfortable.
She always has to find some way to do that. That's Faith's way of making sure that I have no choice but to take notice of her. She likes toying with the part of me that made her—the part that called Kendra. One of these days, she's gonna push me just hard enough and I'm not gonna be able to channel all that aggression into my need for violence and she knows it as well as I do.
"Could have fooled me," I reply flatly.
"Like that's a difficult thing to do," Faith snorts. "I'd swear that dye's real the way you act."
"Isn't there someone you're supposed to be screwing right about now?" I snap.
"You're the one with the toys that expect it," Faith retorts. "I don't screw on demand."
I let out a shaky laugh instead of responding. I know what she wants. She wants me to give in to that—she wants me to break down and make her mine, make her submit to my will. She wants someone else to be in control and she doesn't want to have to worry about trusting them.
Agitated, I draw my feet back up onto the docks and stand up in the same motion. Sensing the storm of aggression brewing inside me, Faith follows. For a long moment, we both stand there just staring at each other. Her expression is a mask of defiance over need and I know mine is too.
As we stand here, the tension rises further as the power on the air stirs the demons inside of us. Something flashes in her eyes and I know without question that it's echoed in mine, `cause it's that part of us that incites us, that makes us act this way with each other. We've never needed much encouragement to get to this point, where it's fight or flight, give in or get out. The darkling energy from the battle being waged not so far away is pushing us beyond that.
We're not gonna be able to walk away from this for once. As I come to that realization, a faintly mocking smile spreads across Faith's lips and I recognize it for what it is. She knows how this is gonna end. That's the reason she agreed to come after me for them instead of staying to fight.
The faint glow of the moon disappears, leaving us in darkness that humans would be blinded by. I don't have to look to know that the moon has turned as black as night. Unnaturally red lightning streaks the sky, backlighting Faith in a fading crimson glow. The bolt is followed by another, and another, and so on, and yet the power continues to rise, making my teeth grind.
"Just leave me alone, Faith."
It's meant to be a warning, but the demon is too close to the surface. My words came out as an order and I knew it was a mistake before I finished speaking. The growling words, nowhere near human, could do nothing but write the end result in cement. Her smile is my only warning.
Faith lunges at me and takes us both down. My back hits the planks of the dock and I twist my hips, rolling us over. I shift to pin her and she takes the opening I've left, rolling us back towards the end of the dock. Using Faith's weight against her, I force us towards the opposite end. On and on we go, struggling against each other with both of us trying to come out on top.
We've been here before, her and me. I can see it in my mind's eye; first, her blood was staining my hands and she was falling—another time and place, we were falling and then I was drowning. Why is it that whenever we fight, we always end up taking a dive? Fear of heights, here I come.
Reaching the start of the dock and the end of my patience, I tighten my hands around Faith's biceps and rear back to slam her against the planks. We both pause, the only sign of life in either of us being the heavy rise and fall of our chests. The power continues to build as the storm rages in the background. The wind picks up, whipping our hair around us and pulling at our clothes.
Faith arches up, trying to buck me off of her. I slam her back against the dock again. Her hands squeeze my forearms and if I were human, she would break me. Since I'm not, I just flash a grin that I know holds all the feral intensity of everything inside me now and then slam her again.
As the howl of the wind turns into a dull roar, our gazes meet again. Faith goes still, not even breathing. Then suddenly she lets out a shaky breath and the tension snaps. 
Faith pulls back. Her eyes search mine for answers to questions she won't give voice to. She's asking me not to walk away again, asking me not to deny her—begging me not to deny us. 
 Then I let go of her shirt and loop my arms around her neck, burying my hands in her hair.  My tongue soothes the wound and Faith lets out a quiet whimper/moan, giving me a full-bodied shiver as that sound hits me below the belt.
The power reaches a crescendo and the storm clouds break. Before I can react, Faith twists her upper body, rolling us over and angling us towards the side of the dock. I add my own weight to the motion and we fall over the edge, tumbling down onto the half-submerged sandbank that stretches across the width of the dockyard. I grunt as we hit the ground with a light splash.
I roll us beneath the dock we were on and then shift, straddling Faith once again. She sits up and absently wraps an arm around my waist as we look out to our left. The stench of sulfur reaches us before we see the source. Fire rains down, so blue it's almost white and it stings our eyes so bad just to look at it that we have no other choice but to look away before it blinds us.
We're so close that our eyes are almost crossing just so that we can see one another and we're forced to close our eyes. It only seems natural that it leads to another kiss, even if I have no idea who starts it this time. Faith's lips and tongue are demanding as she coaxes my mouth open. She immediately plunges her tongue between my lips and teeth and a guttural moan leaves my throat.
In the distance, a howl rends the air as the fire serves its' purpose.  I just hope Giles was right and it won't destroy anything else. The only protection we have right now is wooden.
One of Faith's hands slips underneath my soaked tank top and the moment her skin touches mine, I'm suddenly wishing that we were both a little less "protected". Heat radiates out from the point of contact to my center and I hiss in response. Faith chuckles against my lips and retreats, pulling back just enough to give me a knowing smirk. 
"Bitch," I mutter against her lips and she laughs again.
One kiss leads to another and another and another and so on. Then I'm pushing her away by her shoulders. Before Faith can voice the protest on her lips, I reach down and grasp the tail of my tank top to pull it up over my head. The moment the material passes my mouth, her lips are on mine again and then she pulls the tank top out of my hands as she trails kisses along my jaw.
Faith somehow ends up with her face in the crook of my neck and I have no idea where my shirt went.  The pleasure blurs with pain as her lips are replaced by teeth and suddenly I know what she's doing. She's trying to make The Master/Angel/Dracula's marks hers and her nerve leaves me torn between amusement and anger.
In the blink of an eye, I make a decision. Instead of shoving her away, I pull her closer as I tug her hair back from her throat. Against my will, my hand reaches out to caress the raised, scarred mound of tissue above her pulse point. I've heard the story behind it, and even now, I feel a pang of jealousy at the thought that Angelus got to do this to her, and it makes me shake with anger.
A wordless snarl tears