xgirlanachronism245x
Cutest Of The Scoobies
So this is really just a beta version that isn't even done yet. I just had to post it to get somebody's honest opinion of what I have so far.
Faith POV
It goes AU after Faith wakes up from her coma.
So no body switch.
Well, maybe. I have a loose idea of where this is going but I don't really know how to get it there. Honest feedback would be greatly appreciated. I know it bounces around everywhere, but I think that Faith would have been a lot more... insane than she was made out to be.
This is a Buffy/Faith ship, and I'm warning you now that while it doesn't have a rating more than PG15ish, I will find a way to put them together. Not your cuppa tea? Then turn back child. Turn back now.
They don't belong to me. I'm just a kid who Joss has kindly allowed to play with his toys. =]
Read on.
-----
"What's the matter, girlfriend? You look like you've seen a ghost."
She looks at me, shocked and confused, and it might be my imagination but I could have sworn I saw a shadow of relief flit across her features.
Of course, it's almost like she had seen a ghost. The doctors said I'd never regain consciousness, that I would live forever in a coma. Apparently, she was feeling more than a little remorse for landing me in a comatose state when she tried to carve me up into bite-size pieces for the chump. And that was apparent because she must have dished out a considerable amount of dough to put me up in my own room. One that wasn't silver and white and cold. The dark posh interior had her name written all over it and her touch too cause in a corner buried in that chest that was full of my clothes was the knife boss man gave me. Shiny and clean but I could still smell the blood all over it. My blood. Yeah, she has to be harboring some serious guilt.
So I thought it was only fair to return the favor by finding the little traitor and letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that I am fully recovered and ready for some good old-fashioned payback. I must admit, though, I was a bit touched by her thoughtfulness, but not touched enough to let her off the hook. I dressed quickly, feeling better than ever to be slipping into leather and lace again. I tucked the knife in the holder fastened to my thigh and was out the door. Gotta go see about a girl. Yeah, you might know her. Short, skinny, but packs a serious punch. She's honey-blonde with dazzling emerald green eyes. I can't say that I'm not attracted to this girl because goddamn she's a looker alright and a real go-getter. Dancing with her in the Bronze that night was like sex on hardwood. She had some wicked energy emanating from every pore of her toned sun kissed body and had a dark side buried way down deep inside of her honeysuckle core just itching to come out. I could have taught that girl so much. Like what is was like to be on the other side of the spectrum. Like what life of a Slayer was supposed to be like. Like what else I could do with the deft fingers that wrap around a stake like it is the most natural thing in the world.
That girl has some wicked power. She probably has more than I have. Maybe that's why I was always longing to test-drive her. To get underneath her skin and bring all that power to the surface. You know, come to think of it, I was always drawn to power. Hell, that's why I went to the Mayor after I killed that man in the alley, cause The Mayor had a lot of power and he offered me somewhere to belong, all that and a bag of chips without copping a feel. And power is certainly the reason behind why I went after her hunky piece of Angel meat. The vamp's got potential once you let him out of his cage. I could have used him if he wasn't so gung-ho bout his not-so-natural blonde. Anyways, I left the hospital guards out cold in the utility closet. Shitty security but then again she must not have been that worried about me waking up. Guess it's that Slayer constitution that has me up and running again. I gotta remember to thank the Powers-That-Sit-On-Their-Mighty-Asses for that one someday.
There I was. Standing in front of her house like a fool trying to figure out what to do. I could knock. That would be the polite thing to do. Then, we could sit down at the dinner table and share our feelings while Joyce plays mom to both of us.
Funny thing is I never really knew how much I wanted that to happen. So really, part of me wants to knock. But part of me wants to kick the ****ing door down. Little Blondie tried to gut me and feed me to her lover so anger and resentment must be expected.
I realize the hypocrisy in that, because when I shot that poison arrow and missed Angel's heart, it was obvious that it wasn't Angel I really wanted to hurt. But I did hurt him and his slayer in one fell swoop. Two birds, one stone. I wasn't all that surprised when B showed up, decked out in big sis's clothes. The only cure for the brooding bastard was the blood of a slayer and the only disposable slayer was me. I put two and two together and figured out what would happen long before she graced me with her presence. I wasn't thinking about what would happen to me when I threw myself off the top of that apartment building because at that point the only thing I really wanted was for her heart to break into three million tiny little pieces. I desperately wanted to make her understand what it was like to be me. To make her understand that she got everything and I got nothing. She had her friends, her watcher, her mom, and her honey. I had a seedy motel room and no one to love. She made it perfectly clear she didn't want me, so I wanted to take away the one thing she loved most.
Losing her way to heal her Mister-Likes-To-Bite Angelpuss would have done just that. I bet she cried, hard. I would have paid to see that show. Or maybe I wouldn't have. I don't even know anymore.
But, in any event, I decided against knocking the door down. So, there I stood. Like a ****ing idiot tapping my knuckles on the wooden door that I should have already kicked down. It opened slowly, almost like she knew who stood on the other side. She let me in. No questions. No fighting. Nothing.
Minutes passed with us just standing there, face to ****ing face in the foyer. She's got that look on her face, almost unreadable but then something crosses her face remarkably similar to sadness. Almost pity, but not quite. Joyce stepped down off the stairs and placed her hand on Buffy's left shoulder and my eyes are drawn to a thin scar on her jugular. I smirk as understanding filters through my rage and sinks into my brain.
"So, you offered your pretty little neck to the bastard instead? Go figure. Tell me, B, did you like it? Bet you anything in the world you did."
I said it to hurt her, cause that look she was giving me was too much to handle. Way too much for me to deal with right now. I came here for payback and I intended on getting it.
She dropped her gaze and I knew I had touched a nerve, so apparently it was still a sore subject. I mean, damn, who would have thought that she was the self-sacrificing type? She turned her head to Joyce and silently asked her to leave. She's thinks she got this one in the bag. Joyce squeezed her shoulder and retreated. Probably best that Mom not witness the debauchery about to take place.
I know that the talking, what little of it there was, is done and now it's onto the fisticuffs. I brace myself for the first punch but it doesn't come. Instead, I hear her voice, full of pity and remorse. I hate that voice. It makes me feel three ****ing years old again. It's the social worker tone, or the voice that my second grade teacher gave me when I couldn't pay for lunch. That voice makes me angry. I'm not some charity case anymore. If I want it, I take it, and then I have it. Nothing to it really.
"Faith"¦"
I don't even let her finish. I'm not about to listen to that crap. I don't want her to apologize. I want her to pay.
"Cut the crap, B. I don't want to show and tell and I don't want to listen to your justification bullshit."
She fell silent and looked down, seemingly contemplating her options here. And when she looked up there was determination written all over her too green eyes. She walked up to me, quiet but firm steps, and when we were so close that I could feel the heat from her body she stopped. We were merely inches apart and for a second there nothing else existed. I was just a girl, standing in front of the object of desire that has occupied my dreams. I gasped when she slid her hand down my leg and pulled the knife from its holster.
"It's a beautiful knife. Smooth and sharp. It just slides into things like butter. Like butter."
She was right about that. I barely felt it enter me until it was buried to the hilt. She was in a daze, admiring the knife's beauty as if she had nothing to fear. Nothing at all. She looked up at me with that dreamy look in her eye that I've only seen once before. She and Angel were kissing outside the movie theater when I showed up, promising to keep her warm for him. She got that look in her eye, almost like she didn't want to be kept warm. I asked her about it later when she was curled up next to me in bed and in a sleepy haze she told me things would be much easier between them if she was a vampire. I didn't bring it up again, partly because she'd kick my ass, but partly because I knew how she felt. Things would be much easier between us if she would forget about him.
"Faith"¦"
She said it again, only there wasn't that social worker tone in her voice. Her voice was harsh and needy. She thrust the knife in my hand and let her arms fall to her sides. In defeat.
"Do it. I'm not going to stop you. Get what you came here for."
I looked down at the sharp edges of the knife. I should shove it into her and let her bleed out. Should make it slide like butter into her gut and watch her convulse in pain until her face pales and bloodstains the wood beneath her for yards. I should do it. She ****ing deserves it. I should show her all the things I never could. How much pain I could inflict without even touching her. Pour into her all the pain and hate and rage that has been building up since I showed up here. I look back up to her eyes and I'm taken aback. There's no fear, no worry, no pity. Nothing. Her eyes are blank, like she's not even there.
"B"¦"
She didn't answer. No, it wasn't going down like this. I wanted a fight, wanted to prove that I'm the better slayer. That I'm the stronger one. So, I thrust the knife back into its holster and deliver one swift punch to her jaw. It knocks her out cause she wasn't ready for it. I pick her up and run. Not even looking where I'm going. But it's fine, even after months of not being here, my feet still know the way.
*
When I stopped outside of the mansion's doors, I hesitated, unsure if he was still here or not. But since my slayer senses weren't firing, I took the chance and slid the door open. Everything was still and quiet, so I'm guessing that Angel has been long gone. Probably for the best, cause who really wants to watch the epic love fail dismally over and over and ****ing over again.
Judging by the table that smashed in the center room and the drops of blood on the floor that was probably hers, I can tell that this is where it happened. I almost see it happening before my eyes. She makes her offer and exposes herself to him, begging him to take it. Angel refuses, cause that's what a good lover's supposed to do, and she gets pissed off so she punches him until he vamps out. He grabs her and slides his teeth inside of her. I bet she came, harder than she ever has before. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and I bet she was seconds away from dying before he stopped. Man, the drama they go through.
I drop her in the bed and use the chains that were fastened to the headboard to keep her there. I run my finger down her neck, tracing the scar that screams her pain out to the world. It must have been excruciating to watch him leave, to watch the only thing you ever loved more than life itself turn it's back and walk away.
"Angel."
His name leaves her mouth in a sigh as her head falls back into the pillow. I pull a little tighter on the chains, anger barely contained beneath the surface. She's still got it bad for him, even though his scent is long gone from her skin, replaced by a new scent that I'm having a bit of trouble placing. Ah, well, B's in college now. She's probably got a new college honey. Hopefully not as broody as her last beau. I don't think the universe is quite recovered from that one yet. And it definitely isn't ready for part two.
I leave the bedroom and close the door behind me. I wander around the place soaking in all that had happened here in my absence. I'm thinking that is was B who cut off ties with the Watcher's Council and that good-for-nothing sack of shit who called himself a Watcher. Wes was just fresh out of Watcher school and was already getting fresh with some perfectly delectable jailbait by name of Cordelia. B sent the Boy Watcher packing back to England and sacrificed herself to let Angel live, who repays her by leaving town once the big battle was over and done. Huh, go figure. All men are the same. You give them what they want and then they leave you, high and dry. If they were so much in love, why the leaving? I suppose he was too scared that she would make with the lovesick puppy gaga eyes and he wouldn't be able to control himself.
I wouldn't have left her like that. I would have given that girl the world. Would have stood in the dark while she was in the sun and would have thought nothing of it because there has to be some sacrifice involved. I would have been happy to be the yin to her yang and I would have lived forever in the darkness to make her see that.
I drew hearts on glass out of my breath, crossed my fingers, and hoped she would understand. She didn't so I just tried harder. I kissed her in the alley outside the Bronze before we ran into that guy and it felt like she was gonna kiss back but then Angel showed up and she didn't have anything to say so I ran. Ran fast and hard and there she was, running after me as if I really meant something to her. A couple stolen kisses and a few vamps later we were just as in sync as we were when we were dancing. But after I killed that guy, I heard them in the alley. Her and her Angel. She said the kiss he interrupted meant nothing, that I did it in the heat of the moment, and that he was the only one for her. I tossed the matching knife set I had lifted for us. There was no way that I could give that to her now. Not when she's too ashamed to tell him the truth.
I didn't mention it and I shied away from contact when her friends were around. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid of the ridicule. Yeah, the almighty Faith was ****ing afraid. Cause of a girl no less. I hated it, hate-hate-hated it. But I couldn't get her out of my brain so I tried one last time to tell her how I felt but it was too late and I'm not quite sure she got the message. Blood was spilling from my stomach and as I fell backwards, I told her I loved her.
Cause I do. I love her to ****ing death and I hate it.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if B would have been the one to kill that guy. Maybe I'd still be in the good graces of her teammates and maybe she'd be the one that's lost as all hell. I guess I spent a lot of time dreaming about that one because I have this image of me comforting her in my mind. It's something like we're in that seedy motel room I never called home and I've got both arms around her cause I'm scared to let go of her cause I'm afraid she's not real and she's crying and I've never been good with tears so I kiss her. I kiss her like she's meant to be kissed, a little rough and a lot passionate, and the next thing I know she's kissing back and just when I think everything's okay and there will finally be a happy ending I'm screaming and blood is pouring from my gut and all I hear are her sobs. Her heart wrenching sobs. And I'm gone.
Gone and six months later I wake up, in a not so cold, not so white hospital room.
Now, I'm back here, here in this godforsaken mansion that has seen some of my worst moments and I don't know where to go from here. I'm toeing this line between love and hate and it's all so confusing that I'm not sure there is a line there at all. I'm drowning and I don't have any clue how to save myself but I know, somewhere deep in my gut and somewhere right around that scar, that B knows. B could save me. That's what she was telling me all along and what I was trying so hard to ignore. She can save me. I just have to let her.
I don't know how to let her just yet. I still have some things I need to sort out, and to do that, I need supplies. I take one last glance at the place and hope to god that I fastened those chains tight enough and head out the front door into the night.
*
I'm not exactly sure how or why my feet carried me here, to the alley where it happened. It being where I killed that man. Yeah, I killed him. Being in a coma for so long just so happened to give me some real perspective. Guess it was my subconscious's way of helping me deal with things. Although, I'm not exactly sure it worked out as nature intended it. I'm still wicked torn between being hell-bent on giving Buffy what's coming to her for the slice and dice she pulled on me and crumbling to itty-bitty pieces in front of her and begging her to save me. Cause only she can, ya know. Angel tried, and yeah, things might have gone down differently if Wes hadn't interrupted us, but he did. None of the others stand a chance now. Not now, not after everything that has happened between Buff and me.
I have bags of food and such in my arms and I'm just standing here. Looking at the all-too clean dumpster that I can still see his body slumped against. I was a different girl then. Or was I? Even I am having a hard time with this. I set down the bags, feeling rage and sorrow and all these emotions that I can't even name come bubbling up to the surface. It all happened so fast and I'm punching and screaming and punching.
"I hate you. I hate you. I ****ing hate you. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate!"
I punched and kicked and screamed until my knuckles were sore and bloody and my voice was gone. I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes, willing my breath to return to normal. I almost couldn't hear because my pulse was so loud in my ear and my head was spinning from the physical effort it took to pummel the dumpster into the crumpled up heap of metal it is now.
But even through my haze of pain, and even in my confused state, the Slayer in me woke when I felt, rather than saw, the three vampires lurking in the shadows. No doubt, they had heard my screaming. I pretended not to notice them and kept still, forcing my heart to slow and my breathing to return to its normal shallow rate. They crept closer, game faces on, and looking more than ready to feed. And when the first got close enough, his head was sufficiently twisted off with little effort. I suppose they realized then, when they saw the glint in my eye, just who I was.
"Slayer."
"Let's skip the meet and greet and get right into it, shall we? I'm itching for a good rough and tumble."
I stepped forward and shot my fist out at the right one. He blocked it but I kept swinging. Kept swinging and kicking and missing more than a few chances to stake him. I was so caught up in the fight that I couldn't even tell the other one was behind me until I felt her fangs slice the skin of my neck. And I didn't scream. Didn't move. I was so afraid and at the same time so willing to die. To end all this confusion once and for all. I was just standing there, frozen in something just this side of fear, when something clicked. I yanked the vampire off my back, threw her down in front of me, and staked her in the time it took for the other one to realize that this was not going to be as easy as he thought. It took all of six seconds to shove a pointy piece of wood through his heart and make it so he'd fit into an ashtray.
A wave of hunger hit me like a freight train. Both kinds of hunger too. Well ****. Time to go home to Buffy then.
Maybe at least one of those hungers can be sated tonight.
*
To Be Continued.
Faith POV
It goes AU after Faith wakes up from her coma.
So no body switch.
Well, maybe. I have a loose idea of where this is going but I don't really know how to get it there. Honest feedback would be greatly appreciated. I know it bounces around everywhere, but I think that Faith would have been a lot more... insane than she was made out to be.
This is a Buffy/Faith ship, and I'm warning you now that while it doesn't have a rating more than PG15ish, I will find a way to put them together. Not your cuppa tea? Then turn back child. Turn back now.
They don't belong to me. I'm just a kid who Joss has kindly allowed to play with his toys. =]
Read on.
-----
"What's the matter, girlfriend? You look like you've seen a ghost."
She looks at me, shocked and confused, and it might be my imagination but I could have sworn I saw a shadow of relief flit across her features.
Of course, it's almost like she had seen a ghost. The doctors said I'd never regain consciousness, that I would live forever in a coma. Apparently, she was feeling more than a little remorse for landing me in a comatose state when she tried to carve me up into bite-size pieces for the chump. And that was apparent because she must have dished out a considerable amount of dough to put me up in my own room. One that wasn't silver and white and cold. The dark posh interior had her name written all over it and her touch too cause in a corner buried in that chest that was full of my clothes was the knife boss man gave me. Shiny and clean but I could still smell the blood all over it. My blood. Yeah, she has to be harboring some serious guilt.
So I thought it was only fair to return the favor by finding the little traitor and letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that I am fully recovered and ready for some good old-fashioned payback. I must admit, though, I was a bit touched by her thoughtfulness, but not touched enough to let her off the hook. I dressed quickly, feeling better than ever to be slipping into leather and lace again. I tucked the knife in the holder fastened to my thigh and was out the door. Gotta go see about a girl. Yeah, you might know her. Short, skinny, but packs a serious punch. She's honey-blonde with dazzling emerald green eyes. I can't say that I'm not attracted to this girl because goddamn she's a looker alright and a real go-getter. Dancing with her in the Bronze that night was like sex on hardwood. She had some wicked energy emanating from every pore of her toned sun kissed body and had a dark side buried way down deep inside of her honeysuckle core just itching to come out. I could have taught that girl so much. Like what is was like to be on the other side of the spectrum. Like what life of a Slayer was supposed to be like. Like what else I could do with the deft fingers that wrap around a stake like it is the most natural thing in the world.
That girl has some wicked power. She probably has more than I have. Maybe that's why I was always longing to test-drive her. To get underneath her skin and bring all that power to the surface. You know, come to think of it, I was always drawn to power. Hell, that's why I went to the Mayor after I killed that man in the alley, cause The Mayor had a lot of power and he offered me somewhere to belong, all that and a bag of chips without copping a feel. And power is certainly the reason behind why I went after her hunky piece of Angel meat. The vamp's got potential once you let him out of his cage. I could have used him if he wasn't so gung-ho bout his not-so-natural blonde. Anyways, I left the hospital guards out cold in the utility closet. Shitty security but then again she must not have been that worried about me waking up. Guess it's that Slayer constitution that has me up and running again. I gotta remember to thank the Powers-That-Sit-On-Their-Mighty-Asses for that one someday.
There I was. Standing in front of her house like a fool trying to figure out what to do. I could knock. That would be the polite thing to do. Then, we could sit down at the dinner table and share our feelings while Joyce plays mom to both of us.
Funny thing is I never really knew how much I wanted that to happen. So really, part of me wants to knock. But part of me wants to kick the ****ing door down. Little Blondie tried to gut me and feed me to her lover so anger and resentment must be expected.
I realize the hypocrisy in that, because when I shot that poison arrow and missed Angel's heart, it was obvious that it wasn't Angel I really wanted to hurt. But I did hurt him and his slayer in one fell swoop. Two birds, one stone. I wasn't all that surprised when B showed up, decked out in big sis's clothes. The only cure for the brooding bastard was the blood of a slayer and the only disposable slayer was me. I put two and two together and figured out what would happen long before she graced me with her presence. I wasn't thinking about what would happen to me when I threw myself off the top of that apartment building because at that point the only thing I really wanted was for her heart to break into three million tiny little pieces. I desperately wanted to make her understand what it was like to be me. To make her understand that she got everything and I got nothing. She had her friends, her watcher, her mom, and her honey. I had a seedy motel room and no one to love. She made it perfectly clear she didn't want me, so I wanted to take away the one thing she loved most.
Losing her way to heal her Mister-Likes-To-Bite Angelpuss would have done just that. I bet she cried, hard. I would have paid to see that show. Or maybe I wouldn't have. I don't even know anymore.
But, in any event, I decided against knocking the door down. So, there I stood. Like a ****ing idiot tapping my knuckles on the wooden door that I should have already kicked down. It opened slowly, almost like she knew who stood on the other side. She let me in. No questions. No fighting. Nothing.
Minutes passed with us just standing there, face to ****ing face in the foyer. She's got that look on her face, almost unreadable but then something crosses her face remarkably similar to sadness. Almost pity, but not quite. Joyce stepped down off the stairs and placed her hand on Buffy's left shoulder and my eyes are drawn to a thin scar on her jugular. I smirk as understanding filters through my rage and sinks into my brain.
"So, you offered your pretty little neck to the bastard instead? Go figure. Tell me, B, did you like it? Bet you anything in the world you did."
I said it to hurt her, cause that look she was giving me was too much to handle. Way too much for me to deal with right now. I came here for payback and I intended on getting it.
She dropped her gaze and I knew I had touched a nerve, so apparently it was still a sore subject. I mean, damn, who would have thought that she was the self-sacrificing type? She turned her head to Joyce and silently asked her to leave. She's thinks she got this one in the bag. Joyce squeezed her shoulder and retreated. Probably best that Mom not witness the debauchery about to take place.
I know that the talking, what little of it there was, is done and now it's onto the fisticuffs. I brace myself for the first punch but it doesn't come. Instead, I hear her voice, full of pity and remorse. I hate that voice. It makes me feel three ****ing years old again. It's the social worker tone, or the voice that my second grade teacher gave me when I couldn't pay for lunch. That voice makes me angry. I'm not some charity case anymore. If I want it, I take it, and then I have it. Nothing to it really.
"Faith"¦"
I don't even let her finish. I'm not about to listen to that crap. I don't want her to apologize. I want her to pay.
"Cut the crap, B. I don't want to show and tell and I don't want to listen to your justification bullshit."
She fell silent and looked down, seemingly contemplating her options here. And when she looked up there was determination written all over her too green eyes. She walked up to me, quiet but firm steps, and when we were so close that I could feel the heat from her body she stopped. We were merely inches apart and for a second there nothing else existed. I was just a girl, standing in front of the object of desire that has occupied my dreams. I gasped when she slid her hand down my leg and pulled the knife from its holster.
"It's a beautiful knife. Smooth and sharp. It just slides into things like butter. Like butter."
She was right about that. I barely felt it enter me until it was buried to the hilt. She was in a daze, admiring the knife's beauty as if she had nothing to fear. Nothing at all. She looked up at me with that dreamy look in her eye that I've only seen once before. She and Angel were kissing outside the movie theater when I showed up, promising to keep her warm for him. She got that look in her eye, almost like she didn't want to be kept warm. I asked her about it later when she was curled up next to me in bed and in a sleepy haze she told me things would be much easier between them if she was a vampire. I didn't bring it up again, partly because she'd kick my ass, but partly because I knew how she felt. Things would be much easier between us if she would forget about him.
"Faith"¦"
She said it again, only there wasn't that social worker tone in her voice. Her voice was harsh and needy. She thrust the knife in my hand and let her arms fall to her sides. In defeat.
"Do it. I'm not going to stop you. Get what you came here for."
I looked down at the sharp edges of the knife. I should shove it into her and let her bleed out. Should make it slide like butter into her gut and watch her convulse in pain until her face pales and bloodstains the wood beneath her for yards. I should do it. She ****ing deserves it. I should show her all the things I never could. How much pain I could inflict without even touching her. Pour into her all the pain and hate and rage that has been building up since I showed up here. I look back up to her eyes and I'm taken aback. There's no fear, no worry, no pity. Nothing. Her eyes are blank, like she's not even there.
"B"¦"
She didn't answer. No, it wasn't going down like this. I wanted a fight, wanted to prove that I'm the better slayer. That I'm the stronger one. So, I thrust the knife back into its holster and deliver one swift punch to her jaw. It knocks her out cause she wasn't ready for it. I pick her up and run. Not even looking where I'm going. But it's fine, even after months of not being here, my feet still know the way.
*
When I stopped outside of the mansion's doors, I hesitated, unsure if he was still here or not. But since my slayer senses weren't firing, I took the chance and slid the door open. Everything was still and quiet, so I'm guessing that Angel has been long gone. Probably for the best, cause who really wants to watch the epic love fail dismally over and over and ****ing over again.
Judging by the table that smashed in the center room and the drops of blood on the floor that was probably hers, I can tell that this is where it happened. I almost see it happening before my eyes. She makes her offer and exposes herself to him, begging him to take it. Angel refuses, cause that's what a good lover's supposed to do, and she gets pissed off so she punches him until he vamps out. He grabs her and slides his teeth inside of her. I bet she came, harder than she ever has before. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and I bet she was seconds away from dying before he stopped. Man, the drama they go through.
I drop her in the bed and use the chains that were fastened to the headboard to keep her there. I run my finger down her neck, tracing the scar that screams her pain out to the world. It must have been excruciating to watch him leave, to watch the only thing you ever loved more than life itself turn it's back and walk away.
"Angel."
His name leaves her mouth in a sigh as her head falls back into the pillow. I pull a little tighter on the chains, anger barely contained beneath the surface. She's still got it bad for him, even though his scent is long gone from her skin, replaced by a new scent that I'm having a bit of trouble placing. Ah, well, B's in college now. She's probably got a new college honey. Hopefully not as broody as her last beau. I don't think the universe is quite recovered from that one yet. And it definitely isn't ready for part two.
I leave the bedroom and close the door behind me. I wander around the place soaking in all that had happened here in my absence. I'm thinking that is was B who cut off ties with the Watcher's Council and that good-for-nothing sack of shit who called himself a Watcher. Wes was just fresh out of Watcher school and was already getting fresh with some perfectly delectable jailbait by name of Cordelia. B sent the Boy Watcher packing back to England and sacrificed herself to let Angel live, who repays her by leaving town once the big battle was over and done. Huh, go figure. All men are the same. You give them what they want and then they leave you, high and dry. If they were so much in love, why the leaving? I suppose he was too scared that she would make with the lovesick puppy gaga eyes and he wouldn't be able to control himself.
I wouldn't have left her like that. I would have given that girl the world. Would have stood in the dark while she was in the sun and would have thought nothing of it because there has to be some sacrifice involved. I would have been happy to be the yin to her yang and I would have lived forever in the darkness to make her see that.
I drew hearts on glass out of my breath, crossed my fingers, and hoped she would understand. She didn't so I just tried harder. I kissed her in the alley outside the Bronze before we ran into that guy and it felt like she was gonna kiss back but then Angel showed up and she didn't have anything to say so I ran. Ran fast and hard and there she was, running after me as if I really meant something to her. A couple stolen kisses and a few vamps later we were just as in sync as we were when we were dancing. But after I killed that guy, I heard them in the alley. Her and her Angel. She said the kiss he interrupted meant nothing, that I did it in the heat of the moment, and that he was the only one for her. I tossed the matching knife set I had lifted for us. There was no way that I could give that to her now. Not when she's too ashamed to tell him the truth.
I didn't mention it and I shied away from contact when her friends were around. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid of the ridicule. Yeah, the almighty Faith was ****ing afraid. Cause of a girl no less. I hated it, hate-hate-hated it. But I couldn't get her out of my brain so I tried one last time to tell her how I felt but it was too late and I'm not quite sure she got the message. Blood was spilling from my stomach and as I fell backwards, I told her I loved her.
Cause I do. I love her to ****ing death and I hate it.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if B would have been the one to kill that guy. Maybe I'd still be in the good graces of her teammates and maybe she'd be the one that's lost as all hell. I guess I spent a lot of time dreaming about that one because I have this image of me comforting her in my mind. It's something like we're in that seedy motel room I never called home and I've got both arms around her cause I'm scared to let go of her cause I'm afraid she's not real and she's crying and I've never been good with tears so I kiss her. I kiss her like she's meant to be kissed, a little rough and a lot passionate, and the next thing I know she's kissing back and just when I think everything's okay and there will finally be a happy ending I'm screaming and blood is pouring from my gut and all I hear are her sobs. Her heart wrenching sobs. And I'm gone.
Gone and six months later I wake up, in a not so cold, not so white hospital room.
Now, I'm back here, here in this godforsaken mansion that has seen some of my worst moments and I don't know where to go from here. I'm toeing this line between love and hate and it's all so confusing that I'm not sure there is a line there at all. I'm drowning and I don't have any clue how to save myself but I know, somewhere deep in my gut and somewhere right around that scar, that B knows. B could save me. That's what she was telling me all along and what I was trying so hard to ignore. She can save me. I just have to let her.
I don't know how to let her just yet. I still have some things I need to sort out, and to do that, I need supplies. I take one last glance at the place and hope to god that I fastened those chains tight enough and head out the front door into the night.
*
I'm not exactly sure how or why my feet carried me here, to the alley where it happened. It being where I killed that man. Yeah, I killed him. Being in a coma for so long just so happened to give me some real perspective. Guess it was my subconscious's way of helping me deal with things. Although, I'm not exactly sure it worked out as nature intended it. I'm still wicked torn between being hell-bent on giving Buffy what's coming to her for the slice and dice she pulled on me and crumbling to itty-bitty pieces in front of her and begging her to save me. Cause only she can, ya know. Angel tried, and yeah, things might have gone down differently if Wes hadn't interrupted us, but he did. None of the others stand a chance now. Not now, not after everything that has happened between Buff and me.
I have bags of food and such in my arms and I'm just standing here. Looking at the all-too clean dumpster that I can still see his body slumped against. I was a different girl then. Or was I? Even I am having a hard time with this. I set down the bags, feeling rage and sorrow and all these emotions that I can't even name come bubbling up to the surface. It all happened so fast and I'm punching and screaming and punching.
"I hate you. I hate you. I ****ing hate you. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate!"
I punched and kicked and screamed until my knuckles were sore and bloody and my voice was gone. I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes, willing my breath to return to normal. I almost couldn't hear because my pulse was so loud in my ear and my head was spinning from the physical effort it took to pummel the dumpster into the crumpled up heap of metal it is now.
But even through my haze of pain, and even in my confused state, the Slayer in me woke when I felt, rather than saw, the three vampires lurking in the shadows. No doubt, they had heard my screaming. I pretended not to notice them and kept still, forcing my heart to slow and my breathing to return to its normal shallow rate. They crept closer, game faces on, and looking more than ready to feed. And when the first got close enough, his head was sufficiently twisted off with little effort. I suppose they realized then, when they saw the glint in my eye, just who I was.
"Slayer."
"Let's skip the meet and greet and get right into it, shall we? I'm itching for a good rough and tumble."
I stepped forward and shot my fist out at the right one. He blocked it but I kept swinging. Kept swinging and kicking and missing more than a few chances to stake him. I was so caught up in the fight that I couldn't even tell the other one was behind me until I felt her fangs slice the skin of my neck. And I didn't scream. Didn't move. I was so afraid and at the same time so willing to die. To end all this confusion once and for all. I was just standing there, frozen in something just this side of fear, when something clicked. I yanked the vampire off my back, threw her down in front of me, and staked her in the time it took for the other one to realize that this was not going to be as easy as he thought. It took all of six seconds to shove a pointy piece of wood through his heart and make it so he'd fit into an ashtray.
A wave of hunger hit me like a freight train. Both kinds of hunger too. Well ****. Time to go home to Buffy then.
Maybe at least one of those hungers can be sated tonight.
*
To Be Continued.