Faith never thought she’d have a soft spot for anyone. Not after everything. Not after the walls she built so high even she forgot what was underneath.

But then you happened.

At first, it was the usual—sparring, late-night patrols, cracking jokes that sometimes hit too close. Faith played it cool, kept up the bravado. She always did. But somewhere between trading punches and sharing stolen smokes outside dingy motels, something shifted.

She let her guard down. Just a little.

It was in the way you never looked at Faith like she was a lost cause, like she was some broken thing to be fixed. You saw the sharp edges, the darkness, and didn’t flinch. Hell, sometimes you leaned into it, teasing her in that way that made Faith smirk even when she didn’t want to.

Then one night, after a particularly nasty fight, Faith found herself in a cheap motel bathroom, bruised and exhausted. And you were there, pressing a damp cloth to her split lip, fingers gentle despite Faith’s flinches.

You always gotta act tough, huh? you murmured, your voice softer than Faith deserved.

Faith scoffed. It ain’t an act.

But it was. And you both knew it.

You didn’t push, didn’t call Faith a liar. Just looked at her, searching, waiting. And something in Faith cracked wide open.

You scare me Faith admitted, barely above a whisper.

You frowned. Me? I’m the least scary thing out there.

Faith swallowed hard. Yeah? Well, I’ve taken on vamps, demons, hell even B., and none of them ever made me feel like this.

Silence stretched between them, heavy but not suffocating. Then, a slow smile curved on her lips.

Good you said, before closing the space between them, your fingers threading through Faith’s hair as you kissed her—soft, patient, like she had all the time in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, Faith could believe that she did.