Track Number Three by Amy

She has the CD in her purse.

She's been carrying it around with her, every day. She doesn't listen to it often, or at all, really, but it's one of those things that Faith gave her and she wishes she could get rid of it but it has too much sentimental value so she can't seem to let it go.

It's not even a real CD, store-bought. It's the type that was clearly burned off of a computer, just seven songs, a demo CD from a local band. It's not even the type of music Buffy likes. It's alternative, grungey, the type of thing she would never get for herself.

But Faith loved it. Faith loved it, and because of that Buffy finds herself listening to the music any time she gets a chance.

It seems like it would be a betrayal of Faith to not listen.

Faith had given her the CD for her birthday. "It's crappy," she had said in warning.

"Is it a hypodermic needle that's going to sap off all my strength and leave me all pathetic and just waiting for a psychotic vampire to kidnap my mother?"

Faith had grinned, lop-sided and almost dorky. "It's a CD, dumbass."

"Then I think it'll be far from my worst birthday present this year."

"Thank you," Faith had said, and she'd sounded almost sincere.

She's walking down the street when she hears the opening chords. She recognizes them immediately. It's from the third song on the CD, the one that makes her cry, the one that reminds her of Faith. The lyrics seem to grab her in this place deep inside her chest, the place that feels deeper than bone, deeper than heart. Buffy doesn't want to give in to this but she finds that she can't just turn away. This is the music that Faith loved.

In some way, turning her back on this music would be like turning her back on Faith.

Her legs are moving without her telling them to. The smart part of her, the rational part, is busily working on the 101 Reasons Not To Do This. But her body is moving, her arm is raising, her fist is knock-knock-knocking on the door to this abandoned warehouse (Sunnydale has a lot of abandoned warehouses) and she's just waiting to be let in.

A girl answers the door, blonde and pixie-like and not looking particularly interested in the girl standing in front of the door. "What?"

"I- she told me to-" Buffy stops; takes a deep breath. "I need to talk to you about Faith."

"Faith?" The girl's eyes widen slightly; she steps back. "Come on in."

"Are you having rehearsal or something?" Buffy says.

"Yeah, but it's about time for break," the girl says. "Take five, guys?"

The rest of the band is dispersing into another room to find drinks and the only people left are Buffy and the girl.

"Do you have a name?" she asks.

"Yeah. Um. Buffy." She stumbles over her name like she hasn't always had to say this. "Sorry. Buffy Summers. Hi. You are...?"

"Veruca." She smiles wanly. "So you're that chick Faith always talked about."

And Buffy's blushing, just a bit. "Yeah. Guess so."

"You're the bitch who let her go down on her six times a fucking day, but wouldn't even finger-fuck her because you're not like that."

Buffy's jaw drops, in a way that she's fairly certain would have amused Faith. "Okay, it's nice to meet you too."

"Just calling it how I see it." She shrugs.

"I guess." Buffy's fairly certain that her entire face is bright red now. "Anyway. I don't know. Faith gave me your CD-"

"For your birthday." The girl- Veruca- nods. "I know. Thought you might like it. You listen to track three?"

Buffy manages a "Yeah."

"Thought so." Veruca grins, and it's a feral smile. "So you like girls."

"I don't-"

"You like knowing what you do to girls. You like the way that girls will soak their shorts just thinking about the privilege of eating out your magic fucking pussy."

Buffy's eyebrows raise, just slightly. "Are you getting off on trying to embarrass me? Because maybe you should try harder."

"Maybe the only reason you haven't left yet is that you're trying to figure out how you can get me to eat you out."

"Actually," Buffy begins, but she's interrupted by the fistful of hair Veruca has just decided to take.

"Actually," Veruca says, "it's not really that hard." Her eyes have a nasty glint to them.

"That's not why I'm here," Buffy says shakily.

That's when Veruca's tongue is at the pressure point at her neck and she wants to say no but once she realizes that through the thin cotton of the girl's tank top she can feel her heartbeat, she knows Veruca's no vampire, and she gives in to sensation.

The spot is still sore and scarred from when Angel bit her there. She's fairly certain she could get off on just that.

But Veruca's going fast, even faster than Faith ever went, and she hasn't even touched Buffy's shirt but she's pushing her skirt up, exposing Buffy to the cold air of the warehouse, and she trembles.

Veruca is dangerous and Buffy is getting off on it the exact same way she got off on Faith.

Veruca's tongue circles lazily around her clit a few times, just to torture her, just to drive her madder and madder. And Buffy's trying to resist, but it's hard like this and she's fighting to stop whimpering but it's a losing

battle."Please," Buffy hisses finally. "Please, Veruca-"

"Say it," the girl commands into her thighs. "Say it and I will."

"Veruca. Please. Fuck me." The words are barely out of Buffy's mouth and she's riding the first waves of the orgasm, gasping, skirt around her hips in the middle of the empty warehouse.

Veruca's smiling wickedly, and Buffy can't tell whether she's enjoyed the sex or the embarrassment but it doesn't really matter in the end because Buffy's gotten off and Veruca's just kind of standing there expectantly.

"What?"

"Quid pro quo, Clarice." Veruca's smile is bordering on lupine. "You got yours. Now it's my turn."

"I don't- I'm not-" Buffy stumbles over her words and feels stupid. She stops talking and silence falls in the warehouse.

At last Veruca rolls her eyes. "Are you still pulling this shit on Faith and thought it'd be fun to go for two, or did Faith finally dump your ass?"

"That's what I came to see you about, actually," Buffy says. "I- Faith."

"Yeah?"

"She's in a coma. Has been since graduation."

Veruca suddenly looks pale, deathly pale, even paler than before. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Buffy says.

"Hey, not your fault." And then, after a moment, "I think you'd probably better..."

"Yeah. I'd better."

Buffy's out the door before she can make anything worse.

She thinks she hears tears coming from inside, but she's probably imagining things.

She puts the CD in her discman, and leaves track three on repeat.

If anyone asks her why she's crying, she plans to say it's about Angel.

.End