awards: home: fic: multimedia: awards: links: about: contact:

Becoming Kate
By NautiBitz
"Katie Did"

Info and Author's Notes: See introduction.

Chapter summary: Kate Lockley, the Vampire Slayer, suffers the consequences of sleeping with her ensouled vampire lover, Faith.

Kate Lockley doesn't cry.

As far as she knows, she never has -- not when she broke her ankle in the third grade; not when her mother died five autumns later; and not when, at sixteen, she learned she was chosen to save the world from vampires.

Slayers don't cry, Kate reminds herself. I don't cry.

But somehow, saline is miraculously welling in her eyes and sliding down her cheeks.

She wipes at it compulsively with the back of her hand and struggles to keep her voice steady. "I don't underst-- ...What are you saying?"

"I'm sayin' it was fun, K," the vampire breezes as she primps in front of the mirror, unfazed by her lack of reflection. "We had a good time. But I got places to do, so if you wanna call a cab..."

"A 'cab'?" Sheet wrapped around her naked body, Kate shoots up from the bed in hopes that the jolt will wake her from this nightmare. It doesn't. "What the hell is going on, Faith?"

"What's 'going on' is that I'm sick of hearin' all this whining, Katie." For the first time that evening, the brunette bothers to face her.

That's when Kate notices that there's something wrong with her eyes. Vacant, inaccessible, almost frightening, they lack the sparkle of devotion, of connection that she's grown so accustomed to. "Last night..." Her throat constricts and she tries again. "Last night you told me you loved me."

Faith cocks her head. "And the fact that you bought it? Your prob, not mine."

"Bought it? Faith, we've been together over a year... You said..." She blinks back more tears.

"Yeah, well maybe I just said that to pry apart your creamy virgin thighs." She shrugs. "And if you ask me? Wasn't worth it." With that, she grabs her keys, makes for the door and slams it behind her.

And just like that, Faith is gone.

Numbly, Kate sits on the bed. Her first lover's last words crackle in the air, bounce off the walls, echo in her ears:

Wasn't worth it.

"What did I do?" she wonders aloud, desperately recounting the day's events for clues, but all she can access is the pure sensory experience: of Faith's skin touching hers; of fingers in soft, wet places; of trembling at the edge of her lover's tongue, the sensation taking her, twisting her, consuming her...

Kate shudders slightly along with the memory. When it was over, Faith had choked: "I love you -- Jesus Katie, more than anything..."

"All a lie?" Kate helplessly begs of the empty room. And then those damning words answer her: "Wasn't worth it."

Was she a bad lover? How could that be when the force of Faith's orgasm practically registered on the Richter Scale, with all that accompanying shaking and thrashing and groaning -- the groaning of her name, no less...

Sighing, she slowly unfurls the sheet from her body and bitterly recalls the joy of waking up in that sheet; waking up in Faith's bed. It was her fantasy come true: spending all their time together, talking, sparring, making love... everything was going to be perfect.

The only trouble was, Faith wasn't in bed anymore. She was already stepping out of the shower, selecting clothing from her closet... and ignoring Kate.

Except to say, "Man, had to scrub like a motherfucker to get the smell of pussy off me. That's some potent slayer juice you got there."

And that's when the "Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend" line of questioning began. Followed by the blubbering.

Kate rolls her watery eyes. Pathetic.

Wiping her face again, she notices the intoxicating scent of Faith on her fingers. She noticed it the minute she woke up; happily, fondly, she savored it like a delicious secret revealed only to her.

Now it makes her sick.

Defeatedly, she slides on her pants, discarded that morning in the heat of passion. Her seventeenth birthday; her first time. She'd marveled at how perfect it was. How she wouldn't change a thing.

"God, you're so beautiful... so sweet, so pure," Faith had murmured. "This isn't right, baby, we can't do this. We shouldn't--" But with another searing kiss, Kate made it clear that this was something that couldn't be stopped, couldn't be contained. This was dark, hot, thousand year old passion -- older and stronger than either of them.

Well, it was. Wasn't it?

Maybe she's under a spell, Kate reasons while shakily buttoning up her shirt. Maybe Witch-Monster-From-Hell's behind this. It wouldn't be the first time she's tried to intervene.

"Or maybe I'm just an idiot," she mutters, wincing at the all-too-real possibility of deception.

William's initial foray into the vampire's background made a convincing case: "Your Faith is quite the enigma," he'd announced, book in one hand, reading glasses in the other. "Apparently, she was notorious for attacking teenage girls -- having been just shy of eighteen when she herself was turned. It says here she had an unquenchable thirst for torture, both physical and psychological--" Kate had cut him off with, "Are you sure that's my Faith?"

Because her Faith bore no resemblance to such a monster: her Faith was compassionate, thoughtful, heroic, sincere -- feisty and stubborn, too, but so many exits past evil she couldn't make the connection.

Of course, Kate quickly learned the disturbing truth. Faith herself willingly recounted some of the horrific things she'd done as a soulless vampire, before the curse... no, the blessing that made her the anomaly she'd become.

Or so she'd led her to believe.

Kate stands and stares at the hardly recognizable girl in the mirror. Same wheat-blonde hair, same pale blue upturned eyes -- but those eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, that hair is a shambles, and her shirt is buttoned wrong. She can't go out like this.

Psychological torture. Once fun and games for Faith. In fact, it was the way she'd conquered a certain young spell-caster several decades earlier: "All I saw in Willow was a challenge," Faith had ruefully confessed, eyes downcast. "I pegged her worst fear: that the magic would fly outta her control, that it would, you know, hurt the people she loved. So I..." Kate had to gently coax the painful memory out of her. "...I killed her dad, her mom... and I made her think she did it. Anyway... Her second week at the asylum, I broke in, murdered everyone in my path and made her a vampire. Yeah, so... Evil demon witch courtesy of yours truly."

"An unquenchable thirst for torture, both physical and psychological--"

"No," Kate's voice is harsh in the cold silence.

No matter how strong the evidence, she refuses to accept that Faith has been acting for the past year and a half: fighting by her side, tipping her off to every evil in town, getting chummy with her Watcher and her best friend, being so conflicted about their relationship... It doesn't make sense. And it doesn't explain why there's been no record of Faith's destruction for nearly thirty years -- the thirty years she claimed to have lived in penance.

"All I saw was a challenge." A vampire bedding a slayer -- there's a challenge, no doubt about that. But if that was all Faith wanted, she could have convinced her the very first night they met -- Kate was wildly attracted to the dark stranger from the get-go, even before she'd raised her arms to insist, "I know what you're thinkin', but I don't bite."

If she just wanted to torture her... well, score. But all of that... for this?

You're damn right it wasn't worth it! she wants to shout. But there's no point. It's over.

Kate sniffles, pulls herself together, and leaves her lover's apartment.

* * *

This part always gets Willow hot.

Locking eyes with Buffy over the succulent neck they've chosen to share tonight, she grins, swallowing ribbons of warm, luscious life. Around their meal, they're touching, fondling each other and it as it whimpers and mews. Like a cat.

Impatiently, Willow rips the girl's halter top, pushes her backward against Buffy and sinks sharp fangs into the girl's right nipple. The victim still has enough fight left to struggle vainly and sound a strangled cry. It's music to Willow's ears.

Dazedly, she looks up at Buffy. "I wanna make our kitty cry the worst. Can I, baby?"

Dinner's eyes widen in horror.

"She's all yours." Buffy wrestles the girl down on their bed, yanks up her cheap miniskirt and pries apart her knees, holding them open for her sire. Willow grins and dives down, biting into the girl's most tender flesh. A sharp scream pierces the air.

Pleading whimpers spurring her on, Willow giggles as she finds new areas to bite, each more soft and delicate than the last.

Buffy reaches down to caress Willow's head and laps at the blood still trickling from the girl's neck, listening to the rattle of labored breath, hitching faster, faster, faster... It's funny to her, how people always do that when they're so close to dying. Trying to hold on, hoping for another breath after this one... Well, there won't be anymore. Soon enough.

At last, the girl lets out a long exhale, and doesn't inhale again. Her eyes stare blankly at the ceiling.

Willow stops and complains, "Kitty's no fun anymore."

"I keep telling you," Buffy teasingly chastises. "That's what happens when you eat too fast."

"But she tasted so good." She coyly licks her lips. "Wanna see?"

Buffy smiles and crawls over the dead girl to press her lips against Willow's. Their tongues mingle the heady flavors of blood and sex, their fangs cut into one another's flesh. They reach for buttons and zippers as the kiss deepens, turning hungry and hard...

"This a private party, or can anyone join in?"

Caught by surprise, the vampires take in their intruder: Faith, standing by their bed with a woozy young girl at her side.

"It's Faith," Willow says, shrinking back with a pout. "Make her go away."

Buffy, still in demon face, stands up confrontationally. "So. Come here to get killed or just horribly maimed?"

"Cute." Faith shoots her a smile. "Came here to tell you I'm back."

"In... what?" Buffy asks wryly.

With a short gasp, Willow stands to approach Faith slowly, carefully. "She is. Buffy, I can feel it. Her soul, it's..." She reaches out and touches her sire's chest. A blue light shimmers and fades. "Gone."

"It's a trick," Buffy says, and nods towards Faith's companion. "You're so soulless, eat her. Right here in front of us."

Faith smiles wide, lets her face turn. "Thought you'd never ask." Roughly, she bares the girl's neck and crunches down, sucking violently.

Willow and Buffy share an impressed look.

Buffy stops her. "All right, we get it. Share time now."

Amber eyes glinting in the candlelight, Faith tears the clothing from the girl's back and throws her onto the bed atop the drained carcass. Weakly, the living victim tries to scramble away, but a sneering Faith tugs her close and unflinchingly snaps the tibia of each one of her legs: crack! crack!

Holding a limp foot in each hand, she shouts over the girl's screams, "Will, you gonna do the panty honors or what?"

Overwhelmed with excitement, Willow squeals, "Faithy's back!"

Buffy nods in skeptical appraisal. "'Bout time."

Want to know when this site is updated? Join Nauti's mailing list!

Series trademarks and all concepts and characters belong to their respective creators and corporations.
No profit is being made from this site and no malicious infringement of copyright is intended.

Title illustration by Mike Segawa
© 2001-2010 NautiBitz. All rights reserved.