Love Me, Please
by Ria
Rating: PG
Um pretty colours. All swirly and running into and off with each other. Reds, pinks, purples, greens, blues…colours that she had never seen before and couldn’t name. She stared at the colours, enjoying the mis-mash of shapes and shadows, and swirls, and feeling so good with all those colours. Surrounded by, held by the colours. Nothing could get near her, they would stop them, protect her, cloaking her in safeness, nothing could possibly break through them.
Didn’t stop them trying though.
Hands probing, trying to get past, trying to touch her, to feel her. NO! It wasn’t going to happen. Soft voices whispered in her ears, trying to get her to break through the colours. She wasn’t going to. She wasn’t going to go back there. Couldn’t go back there. She had done her time. She had got out, got on with her life. She wasn’t going back there EVER AGAIN.
Not even that soft female voice whispering that it was time to wake up would get to her. She knew it was all lies. It was never time to wake up. Sleep forever. Sleep good. Sleep didn’t hurt, didn’t try to touch her, to get her, to talk to her in that soft innocent voice that everything was going to be ok, before touching her there, before the bruises, and the screaming, and the pain…she was gonna stay asleep. She wasn’t going to give into that voice again. Whatever it threatened. Whatever it promised. How could it be Christmas? How could it be her birthday? Nothing good ever happened then, anyway. Stop promising things! She didn’t believe them anymore. They always lied. So she wasn’t going back. Never.
The voice was back. Telling her it was time to wake up. Like hell it was. She hadn’t heard the bell ring, hadn’t heard the whine as the cell doors opened. She hadn’t heard Mama yelling up the stairs to move her butt otherwise she’d be late for school. So how could it be time to wake up? She had nothing to wake up for. Everything was gone. Everything she had ever been, ever was, everything good, everything that she had tried to do to help, it was all gone. All gone. Even she was gone. The one with the golden blond hair, the face that had kept her going through the years in there. Even she was gone. How could she go back, with nothing to go back for?
She felt movement around her, something cold touching her skin, a sharp prick, and she cried out silently in panic, they were back, they were touching her, filling her with crap, she couldn’t fight them. She didn’t know where they were. How could she know? She couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear properly. Where the hell was she? Why was everything so white all of a sudden?
Something pressed against her arm again, and she shrank back in on herself, her breathing coming hard and fast, too much oxygen entering her as the flight or fight response kicked off, the adrenaline soaring through her system. She had to fly. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t fight anymore. Did she have the strength to fly? Could she escape again? Could she get out without them noticing and trying to come after again. Too many walls. Too many steel bars in the way. Too much pain, and panic, and if only she could think without some clamp becoming locked on her head, and holding it in a vice like grip crushing her till she thought her eyes would pop out, her brain would dribble out of her ears, her head would explode with the pressure on it…why couldn’t she just stay asleep?
The nurse checked the monitors, concerned to notice that the young girl's heart rate had increased again, that her blood pressure was actually normal now, whereas five minutes ago it had been worryingly low. She looked over at the girl, checking to see if there was any movement, any flickering eyelids, any hand movement, anything to suggest that she might be waking up. She took her pen torch from her pocket, gently prying open an eye to shine a torch on the pupil, checking it still responded to light.
‘Hey Faith, time to wake up. Time to get up. You can’t sleep all day! Can you squeeze my hand?’ She gently called to the brunette, checking to see if there was any physical response yet from the girl. ‘Feel me touching your arm? Can you move your arm for me Faith?’
Nothing. She had been getting increasingly restless all morning, but so far the girl hadn’t opened her eyes, or made any positive movement to stimulus. The MRI scan they had done on admission showed that her brain had swollen, but no visible bleeds, so they were hopeful that any damage wasn’t permanent. However, it didn’t give them any clues as to how long she might stay unconscious. Then again, the nurse thought, she’d only been here one full night, it wad still early days. Her condition had already been down graded enough to move her out of the ICU department, into a high dependency ward.
She took a needle and collection pot, preparing to do the routine bloods for the morning, making sure that Faith wasn’t hypoglycaemic, hypovolemic, or anything else that could keep her unconscious.
‘One tiny prick, Faith, then it’ll be all done.’ The nurse murmured, even with an unconscious patient, not liking the fact that she could be hurting her. Then again, with the surgical wound the girl had, one tiny needle wasn’t going to make any difference.
She finished the bloods, and decided the girl might feel better after a little wash, clean off some of that gunk on her skin, make her look a little more peaceful. Especially if that red haired woman came again to visit. Something strange was happening there, but the nurse couldn’t figure out what. She had visited yesterday, but she had been so uncomfortable, so on edge whilst there…the nurse stopped her musing. It wasn’t for her to worry about, she just had to be concerned about the patient. And as they hadn’t found any family so far, at least there would be one familiar face when the girl woke up.
She shifted again, and Jo, the nurse, was sure that a grimace of pain shot over her face before she settled down. ‘Hey Faith, wakey wakey. Time to wake up.’ She tried again, not expecting any type of response, surprised when Faith’s eyes shot open, looking utterly petrified. ‘Hey Faith you’re in Sunnydale Hospital. You’re safe, it’s ok.’ Jo reached out, touching her arm, to try and soothe the girl.
The response wasn’t quite what she expected. The girl jumped with a whimper of alarm, shrinking back, moving out of the touch so swiftly and suddenly that Jo wasn’t even sure she had been touching her in the first place.
‘It’s ok, settle down, you’re safe here.’ She went to reach out, but thought twice, and instead just showed the terrified girl her empty palms. ‘You’re safe here, it’s ok.’ She tried again. The girl was looking around her, every few seconds her eyes returning to the nurse to make sure she hadn’t come closer.
‘Faith, are you in pain?’
She lied, and shook her head. It was a reciprocal question, Jo didn’t need to see to know she was in pain.
‘Just try and settle down, ok? You’re ok here.’
‘Where?’ The voice harsh, little more than a whisper.
‘You’re in Sunnydale General Hospital.’
‘When?’
‘You came in two nights ago.’
‘How?’
‘You were brought in by a friend.’
Please say B, please say B, please say B.
‘Um, Willow Rosenberg?’
Which surprised Faith, possibly even more than if it had been Buffy.
‘Red?’
‘She’s got red hair, yes.’ Jo answered, misunderstanding the question.
‘Need to go home.’
‘You’re not going anywhere, yet. We had to operate; you had some internal bleeding. And you have bad concussion. We can’t let you go yet.’
‘Home. Now.’
‘Sorry Faith. Do you remember what happened?’
Faith shook her head, then immediately wished she hadn’t as the world swam in and out of view, mixing all those colours again. She tried to sort everything in her head. She had been leaving Sunnydale. She had been going back to LA. She had phoned her landlord to let him know. And she was fairly sure that she had even bought a bus ticket. So why was she still in Sunnydale? In hospital. Her hand reached for her neck, expecting to find little bite marks, but found none. Not a vamp then.
So what?
‘What happened?’ She asked, wishing her throat felt and sounded a little less like she had drunk a quart of acid.
‘We don’t know Faith. The police will be in later to question you, now that you’re awake. Perhaps they’ll have more answers. Is there anyone we can call for you Faith, your family?’
Faith shook her head, wanting to go to sleep, but not daring to close her eyes.
‘Ok, why don’t you rest?’ The nurse suggested. ‘I’ll be right over there if you need anything.’
Faith waited till the nurse had turned her back, before going for the IV line in her arm, pulling it out quickly. She worked quickly, knowing the monitors would alarm otherwise. She found a plastic bag of her clubs under her bag, grabbed it, before quickly stripping off the leads running from her chest, and finger, and ignoring all the pain for now, she ran as quick as she could to the exit. The adrenaline made its presence felt, giving her the much needed energy, pain relief to make it through the door, as behind her the monitors alarmed, and there was a shout.
She got as far as the lift, glad when she found it empty. She jabbed the door closed button at the same time as the number of the floor she wanted, hoping that the old trick would work in keeping the lift from stopping at every floor. Faith sunk to the floor, out of breath, panic invading her, and the pain coming back in full force. But she was out, no one was around, no one was trying to touch her. She just had to get out, get home, and she would be safe. Easier said, than done, Faith couldn’t help feeling.
Willow stepped onto the unfamiliar ward. Apparently Faith had been downgraded to stable, and had been moved during the day to another ward. That had to be good news. It was her second visit. Just while Faith was still unconscious. Just till she knew that she was gonna live, that Buffy hadn’t…killed…her. Then she’d go back to hating her.
She looked around, but couldn’t see Faith. She didn’t recognise anyone in the bay area in front of her.
A brunette nurse must have noticed her looking, as she approached her.
‘Where’s Faith?’ Willow questioned, dreading the answer. ‘Um, Faith Spencer, she was meant to be moved here today.’
‘Gone.’
That wasn’t a very sympathetic way of announcing a death, was it? ‘Huh?’
‘She woke up this morning, and then made a run for it.’ The nurse elaborated.
‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s not a lot we can do about it.’
‘How do you mean, surely she still needs medical attention?’’
‘Oh she does. But if she doesn’t want to be treated, we can’t force her. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.’
Willow must have given her a questioning look, as she expanded the statement. ‘If you find her, perhaps you can convince her to come back. She’s likely gone home. She seemed petrified of something when she woke up.’
Petrified? Faith? Then the image of Faith waiting for the bus came back to her. She had been scared of something then. That was the first indication to Willow that something wasn’t right. She’d never seen Faith scared before.
The nurse was looking at her expectantly.
‘Um, sure, I’ll…try and find her.’
How had they got this impression that she cared for Faith’s well-being?
When had she started caring for Faith’s well-being?
Willow realised as she walked out of the hospital she now had two people to find. She hadn’t seen Buffy since she’d walked out of the hospital, although she had thought to phone home and let them know she was ok. And now Faith was missing.
And as Buffy had it in her mind that she was finding Faith, problem solved. But Willow knew it wouldn’t be that easy. However much Willow had said over the phone that Faith was still in hospital, that she had seen her with her own two eyes, Buffy wouldn’t believe her. Coming up with more and more ludicrous suggestions like Faith was casting an astral projection of herself into the hospital bed, or had placed a glamour on the bed. Willow couldn’t understand Buffy’s reaction. She had seen how badly Faith had been beaten, and yet she still entertained the notion that Faith was bad, that she was going to come after her.
Willow didn’t know what had made her so sure that Faith was no longer a threat, no longer a slayer, until she thought back to that night in the alleyway. Just sitting there, waiting for the bus, Faith’s whole persona had changed. She was timid, jumping anytime someone even entered her air space. She didn’t exude the confidence that Faith had once done. She didn’t sit there with that grin, almost taunting anyone around to start something. This Faith had looked young and innocent, even though she was three years older. If Willow had been able to get Buffy to see sense, she would have asked if Buffy had noticed the same thing, if she had noticed that Faith wasn’t as…confident…anymore.
But Willow liked her head attached to her shoulder, so hadn’t brought it up, instead trying to reason with Buffy. But Buffy was beyond reason, beyond listening to sane advice. She was going insane, and it was all Faith’s doing, even if she didn’t know she was doing it. What had happened in that argument that Buffy now felt so compelled to eliminate Faith, why did she see Faith as such a threat now? Anyone with eyes could have seen the physical power she held over Faith now. Was that it? Was it all some power trip? Did she just want to feel that power again, and the only way she could do it was to strip Faith of everything? Willow didn’t know, but she had a feeling she would soon find out. And if she didn’t find Faith before Buffy did, she would have the graphical illustration to go with it.
Buffy hadn’t cried in three years. Since her mom’s death, and all that it had brought. Crying didn’t bring anyone or anything back, and so she had vowed one day to stop crying and get on with life. And it had been working so well. College, work, looking after Dawn, looking after the house. Everything fit so well into a finely honed routine, that now she felt she was falling apart, and it was Faith’s fault. If she hadn’t come along, everything would be the same, everything would still be carrying along on the old routine, and Buffy would have been in control. She felt so out of control now, she didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know what to do but cry.
So she did. She cried, and sobbed, and cursed, until she had nothing left to cry and sob and curse for. Then she had returned home, tail between her legs, needing her little family to make her feel whole again.
Dawn had taken her back without a moment’s hesitation. Possibly because, like Tara, she had no idea that it was Buffy who had put Faith in hospital, or even that Faith was, for some reason, no longer a slayer. It was a Friday night. She was just glad to have her sister home; Scream was on that night, which meant she had someone to hide behind on the sofa.
Tara was out, but Willow came downstairs moments after Buffy had entered through the back door. She smiled at Buffy, and Buffy mistook the smile that everything was of the good, and she no longer had a problem named Faith to deal with in any way. She’d decided during the crying tantrum that if Faith were the slayer, then she would just deal with it, like she had every other problem. By dealing with it logically, rationally, and as part of the routine that she had built up to survive from.
‘Buffy, can I help you pat.’
‘No.’
Dawn pouted, but had another card up her sleeve. ‘But I haven’t seen you in so long, we could hang out, talk a little.’
‘No.’
The pout got bigger. She was sure the guilt trip thing would work. Then again, in the five years she had known of Buffy being the slayer nothing had worked.
‘Please, oh please, I’m old enough, Xander and Willow used to help when they were my age, and I’ll be good, and please?’
Of course, there was always begging.
‘No. I don’t care if you're thirty with the strength of three hundred men. You. Are. Not. Going. Patrolling. Got it?’
‘That’s so unfair!’ Dawn yelled at her, as she ran from the room.
Buffy just rolled her eyes, having heard the same thing yelled at her for the last three years. It fell so often from the youngster’s lips that Buffy couldn’t help grinning, and as Dawn stomped upstairs, Buffy knew she heard her younger sister giggle.
‘We have to talk.’ Buffy turned, still with a grin on her face, to be faced with determined face Willow.
‘What about?’ Buffy said lightly. Like she didn’t know. What gave Faith the right to push into her life like this?
‘Faith ran from the hospital.’
‘She what! And you waited till now to tell me. Oh great, I knew she was faking it.’
‘Buffy! Get over yourself!’ Willow said, the hard tone leaving Buffy shocked. Before she could reply, Willow carried on. ‘Faith discharged herself, and now no one can find her. The hospital said she still needs medical attention, and could very well be dead.’
‘Good.’
Willow regarded her. ‘If she’s dead, then it means you killed her.’ She said softly.
‘No it means she should have stayed in hospital and actually listened to someone for a change.’
‘You really are a bitch, sometimes, you know that?’
Buffy looked up in astonishment at Willow’s words.
‘Faith came here for a reason.’
‘Yeah to wreck my life again.’
‘Have you ever wondered if not everything is about you? Faith hasn’t got any slayer power, therefore, she is no match for you. If you can’t see that, after what you did to her, then you really are blind. Faith is running scared, of something, and now she could be lying somewhere, unable to move, to do anything, slowly dying in pain. Not even an animal deserves that. And before you start spouting that crap about the motel owner, Faith was renting an apartment, over on South side, and has been for the last month. Paying her rental weekly, and on time, I might add. She didn’t hurt anyone, hasn’t done anything since she got here. And you did this to her. Now you can carry on telling yourself that she’s evil, and leave her to possibly die, or you could get off your high horse, admit you were wrong and go and try and make amends.’
‘Me, make amends? What have I done? Faith should be the one making amends.’
‘She tried, she tried countless times, but you ignored her. Is knowing she died at your hands, because of you, going to be enough amends for you?’
‘When did you become Faith’s personal spokesperson?’
‘When you refused to listen.’
‘Why are you sticking up for her? You know what she did.’
‘Yes, I know. She hurt a lot of people, but that was three years ago. I had a glimpse of the dark side, almost succumbed to it, got Dawn hurt in the process, but I had all you lot, I had friends to show me where I was going wrong. It makes me feel bad that we didn’t try harder to do that for Faith. She said no, so we backed up instantly. I said no, you did it anyway, and now I’ve got control back. How could you forgive me, when I could have killed your sister, and not forgive Faith?’
‘Because she should have known better.’
‘I should have known better! I should have known what I was doing, where I was heading, but I got so lost in it, I had no idea where I was going, what I was doing. I knew the limits of my power, but I still went to them. Faith didn’t. No one knows the limits the slayer can push, and now, Faith hasn’t even got that.’
‘What do you want me to do then?’
‘I don’t want you to do anything. You’ve got to want to do something.’
‘Ignore it?’ Buffy suggested.
‘Sure. If you can live with yourself.’
Ignorance was bliss. That was what Buffy told herself. Ignorance was easy. Perhaps a little too easy for the light haired slayer. Although Faith would constantly pop up in her thoughts, she was finding it easier and easier to push them away, slap them out of her head till they couldn’t be a nuisance anymore. Life was easier without her.
But Faith kept coming back. Into her thoughts, into her conscience. Every time Buffy thought she had finally got her completely out of her head, she came back, a half memory, something she would see out and about, or a move she used when she was slaying would trigger off something in her brain, bringing Faith crashing in once again.
And the longer she kept fighting, the less easy it seemed to get Faith completely out. More and more things would remind her of Faith; a song on the radio, an advert on tv. Any brown haired, young female she ever saw on the street or on campus.
Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t she just get Faith out of her head? But her conscience wouldn’t let her give up on Faith, wouldn’t let it go till it could know that Faith was going to be ok, that Faith wasn’t, gulp, dead. Because as paranoid, and as ignorant as she wanted to be, she knew she was at fault here, and she didn’t want to have to live with this for the rest of her life.
‘Perhaps if you go and see her, then it will put your mind at rest.’ Tara suggested late one evening after she had sat and watched Buffy mull this over in silence for the best part of the night.
‘Who?’ Buffy asked, trying to act the dumb blond. And you can stop laughing, she did have to act it. Sometimes.
‘Faith.’
‘How do you…’
‘Willow told me that she was in town. You’ve been very quiet recently. Something is obviously troubling you. I just put two and two together.’
‘If only it was as easy as seeing her.’ Buffy said with a small smile.
‘It could be. You make it was it is. If you go there looking for a fight, with only anger, then there never can be any peace. If you go there looking for, wanting peace, then perhaps between you, you can find it.’
‘When did you get so smart?’
Tara shrugged, an encouraging smile on her face. ‘Go and see her. What’s the worst that could happen?’
I could find out that she’s dead. Buffy thought silently. I can find out that I am as bad as she is.
The next day, Buffy only had one lecture in the morning; the rest of the day was free as the shop she worked part time in was closed for the day. She wandered round Sunnydale with a purpose. Well, to her it was purpose. Wandering around aimlessly with the intention of avoiding where she knew she really should be going. She walked through the local park, went window shopping down the High Street. A suede short cut jacket caught her eye. It was beigy colour, with a thin fur collar, that would look just perfect with her jeans. Maybe next month, with all the overtime money she would hopefully be getting, she might even be able to treat herself to it.
Until the inevitable announcement from Dawn, that was, that she needed something really really urgent for a school class. It had taken ages for Buffy to get into the hang of balancing what little money they had, with all the outgoings that came with running a house, and having a teenager in school to deal with.
She glanced at her watch as she gave the jacket one more lingering look, wondering where all the time had gone. She would have to be home soon, if she was going to be when Dawn got home from school. She knew Dawn was old enough to be home alone, but the thought of what her sister could do while being home alone was enough to make her panic.
It was now, or well, tomorrow, she supposed, but she knew if she didn’t get this done today, she would just find more and more excuses not to do it. And she wanted to stop the one track thing her mind seemed to be presently on. See Faith, maybe even talk to her. Know that she was gonna survive, then perhaps she could silence the guilty conscience once and for all, and get on with her life.
Willow had, not so subtly, told her the address of the apartments, ‘just in case’. They were in an area of town populated by people in need of cheap housing, and the surrounding area often gave off an almost threatening vibe. Sunnydale, like every middle class town, still had the two extremes of rich and poor to go with it. At least it gave the town something interesting, a little character. And it wasn’t like the area could ever compete with Sunnydale’s other interesting hotspot, i.e. the hell mouth.
Faith’s apartment block was one of the smallest of a set of three. Only two story, there were eight apartments, four top and bottom, with a communal parking bay and small patch of grass that Buffy supposed was meant to be the garden. Children played on the concrete car park, kicking a ball around, or threatening all the windows with breakage by hitting around a soft ball. Off to the side, an older woman sat on a bench, watching the games with a wistful smile.
She located 4b, on the second floor at the far end of the landing to the stairs, the children’s high pitched screams of laughter muffled now. She stood outside the door for a long time, running over every reason why she shouldn’t be doing this before lifting a hand to rap lightly on the door.
Silence greeted the knock. Buffy backed up a few steps. She had come, she had tried. Now she could go. She stopped two steps down the hall, knowing the effort wasn’t enough to sate the guilt she was feeling. She walked back, and knocked again, louder this time, filling the hallway with noise.
Silence, again, was the only answer. So Buffy knocked again, becoming a little frustrated now. ‘Faith?’ She called out, wondering if Faith knew it was her, whether it would make her more or less likely to answer the door.
No reply. Buffy knew there were people around, but couldn’t determine whether they were in the room in front of her, or just in the building in general. She knocked again, said her name again, a little louder still, determined, that now she was here, now that she had made the effort to do this, she was going to see Faith.
As she called her name again, desperation started creeping into her voice, into her heart. She could just be out, she tried to reason with herself.
Or she could be dead, herself reasoned back.
‘Faith!’
Author’s Notes: Just thought I’d mention, this is basically au after Faith was sent to prison. Certain events of season five and six happened, but others didn’t. There aren’t really any spoilers, though. Mostly from Faith’s pov.
Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away Go away
‘Faith!’
Please. Just leave. Go. I can’t see you now. Go. I don’t want you to see me like this. Please just go. I don’t want to see you like this. To have you ask what happened, and have to admit I don’t know. To have you ask why I’m not in hospital, and have to admit that I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know when the pain will stop. I don’t know why there’s no heating on in the apartment. I don’t know why I’m so cold even though it must be in the hundreds outside. I don’t know when my life fell apart again, and I don’t know who did it.
All I know is that I can’t see you, so please, go away.
‘Faith, please! I just wanna talk. Please, if you’re there. I need to know you’re ok.’
Of course I’m okay. I only asked you to kiss me, and then had to walk away because I can’t stand anyone standing within a foot of me. I only asked you to love me, and have it thrown back in my face. I only got beat up out on the street. Of course I’m ok. I’m the slayer, how could this happen?
Buffy heard the small sound from deep within an apartment, before wondering if it was her ears deceiving her, hearing things in the silent hallway that weren’t there. It sounded like a laugh. A small, endlessly bitter, self-deprecating, laugh.
‘Faith?’
See, I can still crack jokes with the best of them. I’m the slayer. I was never the slayer. I was always second best. I was always just a slayer, just the second slayer. She was The Slayer. And now she’s the only slayer.
‘Faith, come on. Please, just let me in.’
Why couldn’t you have asked that all those years ago, B? Why couldn’t you have asked to be let in when I really needed you? I’ve been alone for the last three years, and never needed you.
I needed you then, I needed you to ask then whether I was ok, and not take my stupid daft five by five answer as law. Couldn’t you see I was lying? Couldn’t you work out that five by five was just a daft connotation because then I didn’t have to admit that I wasn’t ok?
Five by five. What the hell does that mean? I used it every other sentence, and had no clue what I meant by it, yet you decided it was enough that you never ever asked to be let in.
‘Just tell me you’re ok, and I’ll let you alone.’
That was your mistake, B. Didn’t you see it before? I only had to tell you I was always ok, and you left me alone. A child doing a job even an adult would struggle doing. I was eternally ok. Forever five by five. Why couldn’t you see my struggle. It was right in front of you. I couldn’t even fight a simple vamp without messing it up in some way. Getting too passionate about the fight, about me beating them all into a bloody little pulp instead of just killing and moving on. See I learned. I recognise my mistakes. Shame it’s too late now.
‘Come on Faith, please?’
It’s too late, B. I needed you then, I needed you to tell me it was going to be ok. I needed you on my side, instead of leaving me to fight against something I couldn’t understand, couldn’t beat. Why couldn’t you see that my biggest fight was always with myself? To stop myself from giving up and giving in. Look what happened when I did. Why didn’t you stop me, B? Why didn’t you see what was happening, and eliminate me earlier? Why couldn’t you take me out, kill me, instead of sending me to jail? Why did you leave me in that place, why did you never give a damn about what was happening inside my head?
Just a nutcase. That was all I was to you. A convenient back up when the rest of the Scooby gang weren’t around. The second slayer. You never looked so that you didn’t have to see. I showed you into my world. I showed you who I had become. I showed you my get some get gone lifestyle, my downward spiral into darkness, and you still left me there, floundering in the depths so that you could get back to solid ground. I showed you my life, and you chucked it back into my face. You couldn’t deal with my world for that night. Went crying to Red. I had to deal with it night after night, day after day. And you only saw the tip of the iceberg. I danced with you in the Bronze; I took you into my world of being the slayer. I showed you everything you needed to see to know that I needed help, but then you left me alone to deal with the consequences.
I never meant to kill him. You knew that, but you were too scared at having your perfect record revoked to understand that. You looked for someone else to blame so that you didn’t have to carry it on your delicate little shoulders. You laid the blame on me instead. I was the one holding the stake, but you were the one who shoved him at me. We both thought it was just another vamp. I killed him, and you never let me forget it. You never helped me shoulder the blame. You heaped it all on me, and then wondered why I collapsed under the strain, why I drowned in the darkness.
I needed you then B. I needed you to ask to be let in then, B. I don’t need you now. The pain, the hurt. I learnt the hard way how to deal with them. I like my little world with no one else in it. If I could look at you, B, maybe it would brighten it up a little, but I don’t need you to come in, now. You had your chance, and you failed. F. No re-sit. No second chances. Because you never gave me one.
‘Please Faith. I’m gonna sit here till I can know you’re alright so you might as well open the door.’
You’re gonna be in for a long wait, B.
Buffy remembered Dawn about five minutes after that statement. Oh well. Looked like her sister was going to finally get her wish, and have Buffy trust her more. Now she was here, now she knew that Faith was here, she couldn’t leave. She had to know that Faith was ok, that Faith was going to live. Then she could have a clear conscience and get on with her life.
And ok, maybe she had few things she really wanted to know. She was just curious. Like how the hell a slayer could suddenly not be a slayer. Just for example. If only she had a cell phone, then she could tell Dawn she was going to be late. That she could phone up Giles, and ask him what was going on, what it all meant. Even though Giles had been in England for ages now, she still turned to him for advice and reassurance. Although, turning to him usually meant a quick phone call with a hurried, please ring back when he answered. Giles was the only person, besides Faith, who could possibly explain this. And as Faith wasn’t talking, she knew she had to get answers from somewhere.
Buffy slid down the door, settling on the hard wood floor, her back against the door of maybe her biggest enemy. Or who she used to consider to be her biggest enemy.
‘Come on Faith, we really need to talk.’ She whispered into the silence.
Faith heard the words, as if they were right next to her ear. Which, she supposed, wasn’t far from the truth. She was where she had come to rest, what must have been at least a day ago now. She couldn’t get up the energy to move again. For anything. The adrenaline had left as soon as she was back in a safe place. It all seemed too much of an effort. And the door jam wasn’t a bad leaning post. A bit uncomfortable maybe, but she’d certainly rested against worst. If only she couldn’t see her bed from where she lay, then maybe she could convince herself she was all right.
She knew she wasn’t though. Knew she should have stayed in hospital. Where she could be warm, and well fed, and be dosed up with painkillers. Instead she had had to get out, had to escape that environment. Come to the cold, dank apartment she called home, away from everything, everyone. Back into the dark, because she had left the blinds drawn, and couldn’t reach the light switch.
She didn’t understand why Buffy felt the need to talk now. Hadn’t they been down that route, hadn’t they tried that direction and written it off as a dead end? She’d tried to talk to Buffy that night. Was it really only a few days ago? And Buffy had been the one not wanting to talk. Ok, she had walked away first, but it was Buffy unwilling to talk about all the stuff between them.
How had everything changed without her noticing? That was the question that really plagued her. Sat on the unfamiliar doorstop, in the drafty hallway. How hadn’t she noticed that Faith wasn’t a slayer anymore? How hadn’t she noticed such a big thing? How could Faith not be a slayer anymore? Why hadn’t the return clause been explained to her? Where was her refund? Why had Willow seen it, but she hadn’t, even though she had spent all that time in Faith’s presence, hell, even seen her fight a vampire and notice.
With the benefit of hindsight, she could see the clues. How easily Faith had fallen. That she hadn’t been the one to jump at the vampire. Buffy had, Faith had stood and watched. The Faith she had once known would have been pummelling him into a bloody pulp for interrupting their talk way before he could have reacted to stop her. How out of breath even those few punches Faith had managed had left her. And with hindsight came the anger. At Faith for not telling her. But mostly at herself for not noticing.
Buffy tried to imagine Faith not as a slayer. Without that power and confidence that she carried. What was Faith, though, and what was the slayer? Could they be separated? Buffy tried to imagine herself without the slayer part, and failed miserably. And she had lived with herself without the slayer part for fifteen years. How could you separate something that was a part of you, that was linked to your very being?
Thinking of Faith pre slayer, brought up the unwanted image of Faith pre Sunnydale. Faith as a child. An image she could no more imagine than Faith without the slayer. Faith as a child could barely exist in her mind, because a child could never be associated with the stuff she associated Faith with. The murder, yes, but also the hate and pain even her memory brought up.
Was it time to re-associate that part of her memory bank? Could Faith ever be more than a person who had hurt her? Could she see Faith without the slayer, if seeing her meant she had to see her without the pain and hurt? For the first time since she had found out about Faith, she really tried to imagine her own life with the slayer part taken away. She couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to imagine it. Without the slayer part, what was her life? How could Faith go on, knowing that she had had that part of her life taken away from her?
And for the first time since seeing Faith again, the only feeling thinking of Faith brought her was one of sorrow.
Faith had wanted Buffy to see. Had she seen? Was that why she was here now? Could she ever look at Faith and see beyond their shared past, really look at her. Had she worked out the truth yet, or was this just a trick? Was she here just to throw a few more jibes in Faith’s direction, before hurting her once again, before dismissing her finally as no good? Never good enough for Buffy Summers. Why could she never be good enough? What had happened? She had been the slayer. She had been one of the Chosen.
Chosen by whom, for what purpose? Why hadn’t anyone ever explained that part to her? Just expected her to live with it, get on with it, not complain. Never to try and live outside the sacred box, the chosen sphere. Not chosen by anyone on earth, that was certain. The first time they had seen her they had dismissed her.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? Perhaps she should have stuck around to find out what injuries she had unknowingly picked up. Because Faith was sure she must have concussion to go along with the nice surgical incision on her abdomen. The one that hurt like hell anytime she even moved a single muscle. Getting back to the point, was it so inconceivable that her mind was playing tricks on her? She’d been waiting for Buffy to utter those words for the last three years. To say that she wanted to talk to Faith, that she wanted to know Faith was ok. She had gone over and over the words in her mind. Imagined them in every conceivable way, said in every setting she could even dream about. Except this one. A door the only obstacle between them. Usually it was some steel cage, or endless bars, or her own self induced solitude. It had never been just a door before.
Was that why she was running scared? Was that why she had no intention of opening the door, crossing the barrier. Before, she would do anything to try and break through, get to that much needed connection, to the solitude of being in Buffy. But that had always just been in her imagination, within her control.
Now the door could have been a steel wall, an endless ocean, the highest mountain. It could have been a small puddle, and Faith didn’t think she would have the strength to step over it.
She reached out a hand, touched the chipped paint with her finger tips. A simple touch that made her heart contract. She imagined touching Buffy. Without the inch of wood separation. Touching that soft golden hair. Or trace the hollow of her cheek. Or outline those lips. Imagined touching Buffy. A part of her shut down just at the thought.
Would it be worth it? Buffy was never going to see her as anything more than a killer. As a slayer gone wrong, somehow. She was evil. Wasn’t she? She was so evil, she didn’t even have the courage to open the door to find out anymore.
She closed her eyes, her head falling to her knees. The door safely between her and the world. Just the way it should be. A barrier she didn’t want, but needed to survive.
She didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted someone to understand. What it was like to not be the slayer, to not have that power, to not have that strength anymore. She wanted someone to understand what it was like to be this scared, to be this afraid when she shouldn’t have anything to fear.
She wanted someone to look at her, and finally see just her. Not to see a monster, or a killer, or some psycho bitch. The image they had of her in their mind. She wanted them to see her. And they could never do that. They didn’t have it in them. No one did. Even she was having a hard time seeing it.
‘I don’t want to talk, B. Leave me alone.’
The words came so suddenly, so quietly, and yet so close, that they made her jump.
‘Faith.’
‘I’m fine, B. Leave me alone.’
‘I want to talk to you.’
‘Don’t wanna talk. You said you wanted to know I was ok. I’m five by five. You can leave now. Get on with your life. I won’t bother you again.’
‘Faith, I need to know some stuff.’
‘I’ll call the police if you don’t leave. You have no right to be here. Please, just go.’
‘But Faith…’
‘Go!’
‘I’m not gonna give up, Faith. I need to know how you ended up like this, and I will find out.’
Faith didn’t answer, and with a sigh, Buffy got to her feet. It was already dark outside, she noticed as she trudged wearily down the stairs. Was she doing the right thing? Leaving Faith? She could hear the weariness in her voice. But she knew she was alive, could tell herself that she was going to be ok. Ease her conscience. Wasn’t that what she had came here for?
Why didn’t it feel like it was enough?
Author’s Notes: I’m sorry it’s taking so long to get moving, but I swear there will be progress soon. I hope! Thanks for all those who have stuck with it, and I hope it will be worth it.
‘Willow can I talk to you?’ Buffy asked, as she stepped into the kitchen using the back door.
Willow was at the sink, finishing the last of the washing up from dinner. If she was concerned as to why Buffy had missed a meal, she didn’t look it.
‘Of course.’ Willow replied, drying the hands on a dish cloth, and taking a seat at the counter. Buffy sat a chair down, using the middle chair to lean on.
‘It’s about Faith. I went to see her today.’ Buffy started, even now feeling uncomfortable about how she had left it.
‘And…’ Willow prompted gently.
‘She wouldn’t open the door.’ Buffy said, staring intently at the black night outside the kitchen window.
‘Was she there?’ Willow asked, watching Buffy carefully.
‘Yeah, she was there. She told me she was fine and to go away.’ Buffy said, looking at Willow for the first time.
‘So you went.’ Willow said flatly. She was sure that if only Buffy made the effort, that they would finally start talking about what they should have talked about a long time ago.
Buffy went back to her intimate study of the window. ‘Um…yeah?’ She answered quietly.
‘How do you feel now?’ Willow asked, wondering if her best friend's attitude was beginning to soften slightly. By the slumped body language, general sadness surrounding her, Willow could see Faith was getting to her, and not in the same I’m gonna get revenge on that girl way.
‘I don’t know.’ Buffy admitted, sitting up slightly, stretching her back. ‘I thought it would be the end. I know she’s ok, so my mind can rest.’
‘How do you know she’s ok?’ Willow asked gently.
‘Cause…she told me?’ Buffy said, not turning away this time, but studying Willow’s expression.
‘So you believed her? Because she’d have no reason to lie?’ Her friend was blunt with the truth.
‘I know, Will. I know she was likely lying. It bothers me.’ Buffy admitted.
‘What does?’
‘That she’s not the slayer anymore. I mean, no one told me it could be taken away.’
‘I’ve never come across such a thing. Are you thinking Watchers’ Council?’ Willow asked, deep in thought. She knew that Buffy was voicing this to get off the direct subject of Faith, but, she had to admit, she was curious about it as well.
‘Who else would benefit from disarming a rouge slayer. ’Cept, maybe me?’
‘I suppose being in prison she was a sitting duck, as it were.’
‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ Buffy asked her, looking at her pleadingly for an answer.
‘Why didn’t you notice?’ Willow countered, although there was little malice to the question.
‘How much of a bitch was I?’ Buffy asked quietly.
‘Enough to be blinded to the truth.’ Willow told her.
‘I really screwed up, didn’t I?’
‘You really did.’ Willow said, a small grin on her face that Buffy seemed to have finally worked it out.
‘What am I supposed to do now?’
‘What do you want to do?’ Willow asked carefully.
‘Run away and hide until it all goes away?’ Buffy suggested quietly.
‘Because that would solve everything? I hate to state the obvious, but you have all these questions that only one person can answer.’
‘Giles?’ Buffy asked hopefully.
Willow gave her a give it up look. ‘He might be able to tell you the how. And even the who. But he won’t be able to answer all your other questions.’
'What other questions?' Buffy asked genuinely confused.
'What Faith is without the slaying. How can she exist without this thing that was a part of her? Who Faith is.'
‘How did you’
Willow interrupted the question. ‘Because I’ve been wondering as well.’
‘Really?’ Buffy asked surprised. Willow nodded. Buffy looked at her, hesitant to say what she was thinking. ‘I…I never really realised how much we didn’t know about Faith.’
‘No, I don’t think any of us stopped to ask who the girl was behind the slayer.’
‘Why is it so important now?’
‘Because that’s all she has left now.’
‘How do I get her to talk to me?’
‘I don’t know.’ Willow admitted. ‘I think it’s gonna take patience and determination. She wants to talk, after all she came to you. She just doesn’t know how you’ll take the news, how you will see the new her.’
‘What if I can’t see the new her?’
‘Then that’s something you’re gonna have to deal with. But Buffy, if you don’t try, you’ll never know, and you’ll always be left with these questions.’ Willow looked thoughtfully at her friend, before pulling a piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans. ‘Here.’
‘What’s this?’ Buffy said taking it, quickly realising that it was local phone number.
‘If you wanna call her. I doubt she’d answer, but you might be able to talk to her machine.’
Willow got up to leave then, knowing that this had to be Buffy’s choice. She could cajole her friend into making the call, but it would always be then that it was because Willow had laid on the pressure, rather than because Buffy had wanted to do it. Willow knew if anything was going to be made out of the waste land of the long forgotten friendship, then this time, it had to have a more solid foundation. And forcing Buffy to make that call, would be a shaky start from the beginning. Maybe she wouldn’t call, but at least then she would have made the choice, knowing that she had to live with the consequences.
There was a comfort in the surrounding darkness. Where the pain retreated back to a memory of a worse time, and her mind was blank. Where she didn’t have to think, or feel, or even exist, really. Emotions. A waste of time. Hers were always on the dark side of the continuum. Only two or three times that she could remember them venturing towards the light side, and every time it had been far too brief, every time it had been harshly taken from her, she had been pulled, kicking and screaming, and crying back to the dark. The dark suited her. She knew it well. At least in the dark she could no longer be disappointed.
In the darkness, something approached her. Expecting to feel that same fear, that panic, Faith tensed, but the warmth broke through the shivers, strong arms touched her, pulled her close. She relaxed in the arms now, letting them surround her, letting the light descend again. Feeling the heartbeat so strong where her head was pressed against an impossibly soft chest. Feeling her own heart beat respond to the sound, thundering in sudden nervousness, but then slowing, relaxing into the safety. The familiar smell softly filling the air, sparking long forgotten times of laughter and happiness. The darkness couldn’t hold her, retreated from her. The room seemed to shrink around them, accommodating just them, surrounding them in intimacy that no one could break through.
The strong arms held her close, never let go, whispered of times long gone, of safety, and comfort, and love. And love. Love returned, love so passionate, so strong, so complete. Filling her, warming her, taking her from the dark, taking her out of herself. Loving her. Broken, bleeding; loving her. The enemy, the one who had caused so much pain, so much hurt. Who had gone out of her way to harm, to take, to have for herself those things she had never had but wanted so desperately. Too stubborn to ask. Loving her. Loving Faith, just Faith. No slayer. She couldn’t do that anymore. She was just Faith.
Feather light touches gently soothed, stroked at her hair, touched the bare skin on her arms. And she didn’t move, didn’t want to break the connection. Touching her, telling her without words that she had been accepted for who she was. Washing her down, making her clean, washing away the waste, the blood, the years of hurt. Making her clean, making her a girl again. Breaking through the deadness, the steel hold on her heart. Making her live again.
The harsh slamming of a door brought her suddenly back to the present. To the cold, to the pain. To the dark. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks as she realised that it had all been in her imagination. No one was ever going to be able to do that for her, to make her feel whole, feel like a girl, make her feel clean again. She was broken, unfixable in the eyes of those who mattered. She had broken herself into a million unrepairable pieces. She had been the one to give up on herself long before the world had.
Buffy studied the number. Then the phone. Then the number again. Was that the piece of paper shaking? Nah, it couldn’t be. But yes, it was. Shaking because she was as nervous as hell. Going to the apartment, that had been easy compared to this, mainly because she had never expected for Faith to open the door to her. Why should she?
But phoning, that was a whole different ball game. Faith could answer. Then she’d have to say something, and convince her to stay on the line, and not hang up as her impulse would bound to be. And then agree to meet her face to face. Not asking for much really. Even if she could convince Faith to listen, how was she going to convince her that this time when she was standing face to face with her, she wouldn’t a, scorn everything that came out of her mouth, or b, almost beat her to death.
She sighed. She was really regretting that now. And not just because of the obvious, that it was wrong, and she shouldn’t have done it on moral principle. She should have known that Faith wasn’t a slayer anymore. And even then, Faith hadn’t done anything to suggest that her violent tendencies were out of control again. They had stood talking in the street for the best part of an hour, and they hadn’t even touched each other.
Buffy didn’t like regrets. Mainly because they played on her mind too much, and interrupted other important stuff.
She hadn’t done a complete circle on Faith. She hadn’t stopped hating her. Not yet. Just because she wasn’t the slayer anymore, it didn’t take away all that had happened last time Faith had been in Sunnydale. But Buffy knew, realised more than ever now, that Faith hadn’t been totally to blame. Buffy had always been quick to jump to conclusions, to act without thought, and look where it had gotten her this time. She had almost killed someone, and considering she had thought that person was a slayer, it was a miracle that she hadn’t killed her.
She needed to explain. She needed to talk to Faith, to get it off her chest, and yes, maybe that was totally selfish, but Buffy didn’t like feeling like this. Plus she had questions that as Willow had pointed out, only Faith could answer. Faith was the only slayer to lose that power, and as a slayer, Buffy was desperate to know, yes the how and why, but also what it felt like to have that power that part of your identity ripped from you.
She looked down at the phone again, and quickly began to dial. She had to do this, she had to know. She had to know how you survived without the one thing that made her life worth living.
The phone ringing would have startled Faith, if she had been present in the room. Her body was there, in much the same position it had been earlier when Buffy had left, but her mind was on retreat. Leaving behind the bad stuff to deal with at a later time, i.e. never, her mind had left its body to its own conclusion, and was currently stuck in the only safe time and place Faith had ever known.
Here the phone’s ringing sounded abstract, like it was coming through a heavy boundary. The shrillness was lost making the sound dull, hardly rousing a reaction. She liked it here too much to be bothered by that sound.
The machine had had enough by the forth ring and answered for its owner, a curt message to leave a name and number and get off the line.
The voice, however, did manage to startle Faith.
‘Hey, it’s me. Buffy. If you didn’t guess. Which I’m sure you did. I hate talking to these things, I can never say what I mean. Anyway, so I’m calling. To talk to you. I guess you don’t want to talk to me. Which is fair enough. I did beat you up. Put you in hospital. So perhaps you can just listen. Are you listening Faith? I know we never stopped to listen to you enough. I know that now. I know you wanted us to hear, to see, and we failed you. I’m not excusing what you did, Faith. I’m just saying, that perhaps, we judged you too harshly. No, wait, there’s no perhaps. We did.
‘Anyway, I need to talk to you. I need to know what happened to you. I need to know who took your slayer part. I don’t know what to say to convince you. I know I didn’t want to hear earlier, but I do now, I can listen now. I want to listen now, if you’ll talk. I’ll come by tomorrow morning. I hope you’ll talk to me. I need to know you’ll be all right. Please Faith.’
Faith was back. Back in reality. Brought back by the only person who could bring her back. B had phoned. To talk to her. She had wanted to talk to her. What did that mean? Did she want to rag on her a little more? Shout at her, tell her she was a little more worthless than she had been previously? But she had said she wanted to listen. Which didn’t involve her saying anything. Could Faith explain? Make her see? Make her see how hard it was for her. Would she really listen, or hear what she wanted to hear? Hear that she thought of herself as worthless, so she would know that she was right? Would she ever be able to look at Faith without that hate, and pity that she always had?
A little bit of the puzzle had fallen into place. It was B that had put her into hospital. Stopped her leaving. And Faith was sure that it wasn’t because Buffy had wanted to stop her leaving. It explained why Buffy was suddenly desperate to talk. Faith couldn’t work out why she wasn’t angry about it. Buffy had beaten her up. Again. But Faith couldn’t feel anything except maybe resignation that it was gonna happen at sometime. There was too much violence in their relationship to not involve fighting at sometime. And she was never gonna win a fight with B, even if she still had her slayer strength. At least perhaps with the violence out of the way, they could get on to something more productive.
Mostly Faith just wanted to curl back up, to go back to that place away from here, leave B and everyone to it. Go the easy route, the safe route. But there was a part of herself that wouldn’t let her do it that easy. Wouldn’t let her give up. Reminded her that she had survived three years of hell, that she had finally plucked up the courage to take that bus ride, had even told Buffy some of what she was feeling. Was she really going to give up now, now that Buffy had finally said that she was prepared to listen to Faith? It would make everything that she had done, survived, a joke if she gave up now, finally, when the object of her desire didn’t sound like she hated her anymore.
This was what it had been all about, wasn’t it? She loved Buffy. That was the one truth that she knew above all else. Buffy could despise her, hate her, hurt her, but the love was the one constant throughout. Faith had lost a lot of things, but her ability to love Buffy was not one of them.
For Buffy. Could she do this? Get up now, break out of this funk, talk to Buffy? Try and explain. There was more out in the open between them now than there had ever been. Perhaps if they got everything out in the open, perhaps if they could get through all the crap that had happened, perhaps, perhaps they could start moving forward again instead of being stuck in the cycle of hate and hurt they had got themselves in. It was a big perhaps. And Faith had little hope. But sometimes a little hope was all that was needed. It had got her to this place in the first place, was she really going to give up now?
With a strength she had not used since before she had become the slayer, she pulled herself to her feet, wobbly sure, but on her feet. Slowly inched towards the bathroom, using the promise of Buffy as the motivation to make her body do the exact opposite of what it wanted to do.
She was using every ounce of strength on the promise that Buffy would be there the following morning. She didn’t want to think what she’d do if Buffy had lied to her.
Finally coming to a stop on her bed, Faith reflected on the difference a wash, a clean set of clothes, and hope could do for you. As she fell asleep, thanks to several painkillers and the mouthful of JD she had found, she prayed to a God she had long since stopped believing in that Buffy wouldn’t break her promise this time.
It still came as a shock, at ten the next morning, to be woken by a knock on the door. It could have been anyone, the landlord, or another tenant, but Faith was instantly sure that it was Buffy. And panicked.
Buffy knocked again, trying to be patient, having told herself all night that Faith wasn’t likely to want to talk today. That it could take ages, and lots of phone calls and doorstop visits to convince Faith that she was serious about speaking. But she had still had hope that Faith would talk to her that day, and she could now feel her hope fading.
She knocked again, calling out softly Faith’s name in case she was wondering who it was.
Faith could have panicked for the rest of her life. Just the thought of what could happen sending her down the spiral of hyperventilating and finally black out. If she hadn’t heard Buffy calling her name, and known then, that this was it. This was make or break time, and the old stubbornness that was pure Faith had come breaking through. She was going to make Buffy see, even if it killed her in the process.
‘Yeah?’
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar voice from the other side of the door. ‘Faith, it’s Buffy, can I come in?’
There was a long pause, where Buffy thought she was going to be told to get lost again, but finally Faith spoke again. ‘Sure, come in.’
Buffy tried the door, and was surprised to find it unlocked, even though there was two obvious locks from the outside, and a dead bolt on the inside.
The apartment was in semi-darkness, any sunlight having to fight with the blinds to get access to the room. It was a studio apartment, the bed in the corner to the left of the door. The room was perhaps twelve feet long, by eight. One door off in the opposite corner which Buffy guessed led to the bathroom. The tiny kitchen was on her right, a sink and two hobs fighting for space with a fridge, that sounded impossibly loud in the silent room. The room was painted magnolia, the threadbare carpet had long ago lost its bright colour and was now just a pattern on the floor. One armchair was present, in the middle of the floor facing the only attractive feature of the room- the large picture window. A tv stood on a heap of magazines, off and not even plugged in. Next to it was a clock radio, blinking midday where the time hadn’t been set.
Faith was sitting on the bed, curled into the corner where the bed was flush against the side and back wall. Considering all the mental pictures Buffy had been reliving of Faith just after the beating, she didn’t look too bad. The cuts were healing, if more slowly than usual. She was in grey tracksuit bottoms and a loose, long sleeve navy blue t-shirt. Her hair was loose, majorly curly where it hadn’t been styled in a while. She was pale, that much was obvious, and she had lost weight. Buffy was unsure whether it was in the last three years, or just the last few days. She hadn’t stopped to look that first day.
Faith was watching her movement in silence, waiting for her to say something.
‘Hey.’ Buffy finally managed, feeling more than a little awkward.
‘Wanna sit?’ Faith asked, pointing to the armchair. Buffy walked across to it, pulling it round so that she could face the bed. There was now a good six feet between them, and it seemed to relax Faith.
Buffy waited for Faith to start, but it soon become obvious she was waiting for the same from her. She cleared her throat. Looked around the room. Looked at Faith. Then smiled, even laughed slightly. ‘I guess it was easier out on the street.’
Faith just continued watching her carefully.
‘I was here to listen, but if you won’t talk, perhaps we could do twenty questions or something?’
Still silence from Faith, so Buffy took it as a sign to start.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Faith gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Cause you would have believed me?’
‘Of course I would have.’ Buffy protested.
‘That your arch enemy has lost her power, that she isn’t a threat. You would have immediately assumed it was a trick and I was trying to get you.’
‘True.’ Buffy conceded. ‘But you still should have told me.’
'Why? Feeling guilty? What’s the difference B? Beating me up as a slayer, or beating me up now. Either way I stood no chance.'
‘How did it happen?’
Faith looked away, didn’t answer.
‘Come on, Faith, we have to talk about this.’
‘Why B? A few nights ago, I seem to remember you didn’t want to talk.’
‘Every thing’s different now.’
‘How? Because I’m not a threat? Poor little Faith, no longer a slayer. Doesn’t stand a chance against numero uno slayer Buffy. Funnily enough, I don’t feel like talking.’
‘You were the one who wanted to talk.’ Buffy reminded her.
‘Without you pitying me.’
‘Oh don’t worry, I’m a long way from that.’
Faith remained silent.
‘So, how did you lose it?’ Buffy asked again.
‘I didn’t lose it, B. It wasn’t like I misplaced it somewhere.’
Buffy could see she’d touched a nerve.
‘So…what happened?’
‘What does it matter, B? It’s gone. It’s not coming back. What more is there to know?’
‘I need to know how, Faith. I don’t understand any of it.’
‘There’s nothing to understand. I wasn’t good enough. But don’t worry, it can’t happen to you. You get to stay a slayer.’
‘Faith…’ She waited for the younger girl to look at her. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
Author’s Notes: I don’t know if this works or not. It seemed to, when I thought about it, but on paper, I don’t know, so I’d appreciate your opinions. It’s nearing the end, honest!
<‘So, how did you lose it?’ Buffy asked again.
‘I didn’t lose it, B. It wasn’t like I misplaced it somewhere.’
Buffy could see she’d touched a nerve.
‘So…what happened?’
‘What does it matter, B? It’s gone. It’s not coming back. What more is there to know?’
‘I need to know how, Faith. I don’t understand any of it.’
‘There’s nothing to understand. I wasn’t good enough. But don’t worry, it can’t happen to you. You get to stay a slayer.’
‘Faith…’ She waited for the younger girl to look at her. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’>
It hadn’t been what she wanted to ask. She wanted to probe about the slayer, what had happened, how she had come to lose it. But something in Faith’s eyes when she looked up at Buffy stopped the questions dead. The weariness in her eyes, the stubbornness that was always there, now lacked its usual ferocity. Buffy wanted to know, but something in Faith’s demeanour told her instantly that she wasn’t ready to tell, wasn’t ready for Buffy to know what had happened. The only thing Buffy was sure of was that it wasn’t going to be a present story. The haunting look in Faith’s closed eyes told enough of the story to stop Buffy probing further then.
Not that she was going to forget about it. They were talking, at last. And yeah, Buffy realised that she had to move cautiously, but it didn’t meant she wasn’t going to move. She didn’t want to continue hating Faith.
Faith regarded her from across the room, the silence stretching. ‘I don’t need your pity.’ She finally said in a harsh whisper.
‘Why didn’t you stay in hospital?’ Buffy asked, not needing to know anything medical to know Faith shouldn’t have been out yet.
Faith looked away, across the room, the haunted look growing, her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. It perhaps frightened Buffy even more. Faith was this strong person, she had never seen her react like that to a simple question.
Buffy sighed, before looking round the room. She had noticed the old pizza boxes stacked in the corner, old take-away cartons stacked on the side in the kitchen. ‘How long since you’ve done any shopping?’ She asked, turning back to Faith.
‘What business is it of yours?’ Faith immediately responded, her temper rising instantly.
Buffy waited a beat to answer, glad for the usual response, but trying not to show it. ‘I know what I did to you, Faith. I know that you had to have an operation. What I don’t know is why you didn’t stay where someone could look after you.’
‘I. Don’t. Need. Anyone.’ Faith said, her teeth gritted. She was not weak. Not in front of Buffy.
‘Faith, you don’t always have to be strong, defiant. Someone can help you. Let me help you.’
‘No.’ The harshness was back, the answer immediate.
‘I’m not leaving you like this.’
‘What choice do you have?’
‘It’s not my choice to make. I want to help you Faith, I need to help you Faith. Why won’t you let me?’
‘Because I don’t need any help. I’m fine on my own.’
‘Yeah, you look just great!’ Buffy snapped at her, impatience growing at Faith’s stubbornness. She didn’t want to be mad at Faith, but it didn’t mean Faith didn’t infuriate her still.
Faith’s eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent, looking away from Buffy, refusing to meet her look. Buffy knew the conversation had run its course, that she wasn’t going to get anywhere else that day.
‘Ok, I’ll go. But I’m coming back, Faith. Later. With food. I’m not having you wasting away because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.’ She didn’t give Faith a choice as she got up and left, leaving Faith to the silence of her room.
As she turned to watch the retreating back, Faith felt the tears start falling down her cheek, wondering abstractedly why she was crying now. After everything that had happened, why on earth was she just crying now?
Buffy got back home to a silent house. The others had school or college, which left her time to think, and to make a phone call.
The ring over the telephone sounded tinny, reminding Buffy of the distance between them now. He had said that he had to go back, that she had to start relying on herself again. But she still went to him when she needed an opinion, when she wanted help. He started off as her watcher, but meant much more to her now. She didn’t know who else to turn to when everything came to ahead.
‘Hello?’
‘Giles? It’s Buffy.’
‘Hi. To what do I owe this pleasure.’ She only called when she had a problem, she knew that. But transatlantic calls were expensive, and he insisted on making the weekly telephone call that had become the tradition.
‘Well, you know me, can’t keep out of trouble.’ Buffy joked, even though her heart wasn’t in it. It was still stuck in the oppressive silence of Faith’s room. ‘Faith came back to Sunnydale.’
‘Oh.’ His voice was a mixture of concern and questioning.
‘Yeah. She’s changed. A lot.’
‘For the better?’
‘Couldn’t get much worse, really.’ Buffy said, and then wished she hadn’t. She had spent so long putting Faith down, that it now came as second nature to her.
‘How has she changed?’ Giles asked, guessing that it wasn’t in the usual turning over a new leaf. Buffy wouldn’t call him for that.
‘She…she..’ How on earth was she meant to word this? ‘She’s not a slayer anymore.’
‘Not a slayer anymore?’
‘No.’
‘She…told you this?’
‘Not in so many words. We got in a fight.’ She said, glossing over the fact that actually she had beaten the crap out of Faith. His opinion of her still counted a lot, and disappointment from him she couldn’t cope with. ‘And she didn’t quite react the way she should. Willow guessed it first.’
‘And she’s alive I take it?’
‘Yeah.’ Just, she added silently to herself.
‘What has Faith told you?’ Giles asked carefully.
‘Not a lot. I asked her about it, but she just clammed up. Said it was gone and not coming back. But I don’t understand, Giles. No one ever mentioned that it could be taken away.’
‘Under normal circumstances it can’t.’ Giles said, something in his voice telling Buffy he knew more than he was letting on.
‘What, Giles? Share! Under what circumstances can this happen?’
There was silence for a moment, Giles choosing his words carefully. ‘There is only one circumstance that this can happen, and to my knowledge, until now, it has never happened. It’s like a spell, but highly dangerous, highly potent. Only the Watcher’s Council would have the ability to perform it.’
‘I knew it!’ Buffy exclaimed.
‘Wait, Buffy. There’s more. Only the Watcher’s Council can do it, but there is only one way it works. The slayer has to want it. Has to one hundred percent not want to be a slayer anymore. Any doubt, and the spell would fail.’
After she got off the phone, Buffy just sat, in silence contemplating this. She had wanted this? Faith had asked to not be a slayer anymore? Why? Why would she want to remove such a big part of herself? Why would she intentionally seek to remove the very core of her being? How could she do this? Was this just some elaborate plan to get Buffy to feel sorry for her? To come back to Sunnydale, not pose as a threat, trick Buffy into thinking that she was weak? Buffy didn’t understand, didn’t think she would ever understand. But she knew the one person she had to get to tell her.
‘Why did you do it Faith? Was it some warped scheme to get me to like you, to make me pity you, to get me to stop hating you again?’ Buffy hadn’t given the option to Faith this time, just slammed through the door, the anger in her fuelling the shouting, blinding her to the fact that Faith hadn’t moved since she’d left a few hours ago.
Faith stared at her, startled and frightened by the sudden entrance. Her heart was thundering in her chest, the usual panic welling up in her, wishing that she had locked the door when Buffy had left. But it was replaced with anger when Buffy started shouting at her.
‘I didn’t do this for you.’ Her words were whispered, as she quickly worked out that Buffy had found out how she had come to not be a slayer, and immediately assumed the one thing Faith had hoped she wouldn’t.
Buffy stood, breathing heavily, looking at her in disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, to shout her incredulity that Faith could sit there and lie to her now, but Faith’s next words stopped her short.
‘I didn’t give this up for anyone. I gave this up for me.’
They were still whispered, and Faith wasn’t even looking at her when she said them, but something in the way she spoke, the defeat in her voice, the quiet conviction to the words. Buffy never thought she’d think this of Faith, but she believed her, 100 percent.
All the anger left in a moment, and Buffy slipped down onto the nearest available surface, the bed. ‘Why?’ She asked, feeling a hundred over questions trying to surface at the same time. It all came down to that question, though. ‘Why?’ She repeated.
She looked over at Faith properly when no answer was forth coming.
She was sitting, wide-eyed, her breathing coming fast and irregular as she tried to back up closer to the wall, into the wall if she could. Buffy reached out, unsure what was going on, but if possible, the panic only heightened, Faith desperately trying to move back into a space that didn’t exist.
Buffy didn’t know what on earth was going on, trying to remember first aid classes from school, looking around quickly for the phone.
‘It’s ok, Faith, it’s ok.’ She said, trying to sooth the girl to little avail, reaching out to touch her again to the same response.
Buffy, working on instinct, got up off the bed, Faith’s reaction sparking a memory of just before the fight, when Faith had deliberately moved out of her reach. When, after she hit her the first time, she didn’t respond, just had the same look of out and out panic.
The back away was too late, the panic attack too long to come to any conclusion but for Faith to black out, slumping on the bed, as the body tried to rid itself of the sudden overload of oxygen, get back the carbon dioxide it needed.
Frightened, Buffy had finally found the phone, still talking to Faith as with shaky fingers she tried to dial 911.
Faith’s eyes opened as it connected looked up at her. Something in her eyes, and Buffy apologised to the control operator, and hung up.
Faith slowly righted herself on the bed, her breathing still a little fast and uneven but certainly not as self-destructive as a few moments ago.
They stared at each other across the room.
‘Want to know my other secret?’ Faith finally whispered into the silent room.
‘When did they start?’ Buffy finally asked. She was sat back in the chair, the distance enough to calm Faith for now. It was unnerving to say the least to watch someone have a panic attack because you had touched them.
Now that she was recovered, that Buffy was sitting in her seat, Faith was feeling better, even a little silly like she always did after a panic attack. She looked at Buffy, and kinda shrugged. ‘I suppose when I was little. Although they only really became that bad in…prison.’ She managed to finish with a gulp as her memories took a nose dive to that God-forsaken place.
‘After you gave up being the slayer?’ Buffy asked quietly. When she didn’t get an answer straight away, she tried a different question. ‘Why give it up at all Faith?’
‘Because…Because…’ Why couldn’t she explain this? It had all felt so simple, so right when it had happened. Faith had never really regretted it. But she didn’t know how to put it into words, how to explain to Buffy that she had had to do it. That as a slayer she would always be inadequate, that she couldn’t live as a slayer.
She took a breath, Buffy staying quiet, letting the younger girl talk. ‘Because the slayer became me.’ Faith suddenly said into the silence. ‘Because it became this façade I hid behind.’ Now that she had started, she carried on, the words coming easier as she talked, remembering all the reasons why it had had to be this way.
‘I hid behind it so long that I forgot who I was. And being the slayer…it scared me; all that power, that strength I had. I could do anything, have anyone, and I did. But in the end, I was so out of control, beyond anything. The only way I had to go was down. I couldn’t cope with being the slayer. It wasn’t me, just a face I showed to the world. I wanted to not have to worry about the power or the strength. The only way I could cope, the only way I had back, the only way I could bear to live with myself was by not being the slayer anymore. If I wasn’t the slayer I couldn’t hurt anyone, couldn’t hurt myself anymore.’ While she talked, Faith stared into Buffy’s eyes willing her to understand what it had been like, what a hard, and yet at the same time, easy decision it had been to make.
‘But you said that being the slayer was everything for you; that it was the only thing you had to live for. Why give up something you loved being?’ Buffy asked, not demanding, not accusing, just pleading to understand.
‘Because I was being something that wasn’t me. The slayer was strong. For the first time in my life no one could touch me, no one could hurt me. Or so I thought. I grew up knowing nothing but how to be scared, how to be afraid. And being the slayer, I thought I wouldn’t have to be scared of anything again. I was a super chick. But I was still scared. I tried everything. I beat up anyone, anything to try and prove it to myself. That I had nothing to be scared of. But I did. I should have been scared of myself. I forgot where the line was between killing things I was meant to and killing for the sake of proving that I could. I was so out of control. I couldn’t recognise myself, didn’t want to recognise myself. And it felt so good, I felt so free. Except I wasn’t free. I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t pull back. And every time I felt scared I went out in search of something bigger and badder to prove I couldn’t be scared. That I wasn’t that frightened little girl anymore.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I never stopped being that little girl. I never stopped being afraid. She was always there, screaming in panic, in fright, whenever someone came too close. I could put on this face, live this persona of being unbeatable. And I was to an extent. But every time her voice would still be there. Sometimes just a whisper, sometimes a cry inside of me. Always there, reminding me of what a pathetic person I was. Of the scared little girl I was. And it took getting to the end of the line, being in total darkness to realise the only way back was to stop pretending. The slayer was never me, not while I couldn’t stop myself shaking in fear whenever someone touched me. I blamed you for not wanting to get close; but mostly I kept that distance for a reason. I didn’t want you to see me as that, possibly glimpse that person I used to be.’
‘Why show me now?’
‘Because it’s all I have left. I realised the only way I had left to live was to go back and conquer that frightened girl. I had tried and failed being a slayer. I had to do it, not the slayer. And maybe, just maybe, if I could stop being so scared all the time, I could start living for real. I didn’t know if I could do it, if I could survive, and maybe I won’t. But it’s all I have left.’
‘But being the slayer, it’s not something you can separate from yourself, it’s always with you, is you.’
‘It could have been. I could have embraced it, made it into me, become it. Except I used it. Used it as an excuse to not be me anymore. The slayer might have been a part of who I was, but I used it as my whole self. I wasn’t anything but the slayer, because as the slayer I couldn’t be hurt of be in pain. Only that girl could, or so I thought anyway. It didn’t quite work out that way. I was hurt possibly more as the slayer. It was just easier to hide behind, ignore it, bottle it, whatever. I didn’t want to be anything but the slayer because anything else was too much to handle.’
‘Why did you come back here?’
A wry smile crossed Faith’s lips. ‘I wanted you to see me too. I wanted you to see the real me, and not just the slayer. I wanted to see what you really thought of me, if I wasn’t a threat to you in any way. Without the history of being a slayer, or of being enemies. I wanted to know if you could look at me. Me. And not be looking at me in hate and disgust. I wanted to know if you could ever look past the slayer and see me for who I really am. The real Faith. The Faith I never dared show you before. I just needed to see you. Without all the mess or pain or hate. Just you and me.’
‘I’m still the slayer, though.’
‘You’ll always be the slayer, B. I was just pretending. Dressing up in big sister’s clothes. Playing at something I didn’t even try, couldn’t have, comprehended in a lifetime. I wanted to impress you by becoming like you except I could never live up to your legacy. And I know I can’t. I want you to not hate me. And to not hate me, first you would have to know me. I wanted to be good enough for you, but as a slayer, I never could be. It’s hard. I’m so scared. Every small thing, the tiniest touch, the barest movement. I’m trying to live, but reaching the next minute is a challenge when all I want to do is go and hide till it all goes away. I know giving up being the slayer was the right thing, but it’s so damn hard not to run back to it, embrace it. It was my safety blanket, my protection from the world. Now I don’t have anything. But if I could know that you don’t hate me, it would be something. I wanted this chance to see you, to show you.’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Nothing, B. Just you being here is enough. I might not survive through another day, I don’t know if I’m strong enough. But coming back and seeing you, knowing that I’ve shown you the real me. I can have that, and no one can take that away. It’s all I want. All I need. To know you don’t hate me anymore.’
‘I don’t hate you, Faith.’
‘Shh. Please. I don’t want your pity. You saying stuff because you feel sorry for me. I have more than enough pity for the both of us.’
‘What do you want from me, Faith?’
‘I want you to know the truth. I want you to see me, to know the truth about me. To know that I always loved you, whatever I did. I gave up the only thing that ever meant anything in my life, because I couldn’t live with it, couldn’t deal with it. Because I’m a coward. I know that you see me as a slayer, see all the things I did as a slayer. And I know that as a slayer you could never trust me. And I’m not asking you to love me back. I know I have no right. I was angry, the other night. I had no right to tell you how to feel. It’s just that seeing you; I get angry that I didn’t have the strength to live like you. That I didn’t have the strength to be a slayer. I know that there will always be a part of you judging me, looking at me through the eyes of someone who will never believe a word I say, will be waiting for me to fall again, to prove that I wasn’t good enough. But I’m not a threat to you anymore. I can’t do anything to you. I only ever loved you, B. The other stuff- yeah it was me that did it, and I can never know enough ways of saying sorry to make up for it, but I am.’
‘I’m sorry too, Faith. I laid all that blame on you when I should have shouldered some of it too. I hurt you. Almost killed you. But thought I was immune to the consequences.’
‘That was my fault B. I pushed you away, when I should have never let you go. You’d think that I would have learned by now that by myself, I just hurt anybody close to me.’
‘What do you want me to do now, Faith?’
‘Nothing. I don’t have any right to ask for a thing. Walk away. Never look back. I don’t want you to do anything because you feel an obligation, or you pity me.’
‘Not even if I know that some of this was my fault?’
‘It wasn’t, B.’
‘It was, Faith. You and I both know I’m not a saint.’
‘Do what you want. Do what feels right. All I ask is, I don’t want you to pity me. And to know that I always loved you, whatever I did.’
‘I know.’
Author’s Notes: Well this is it, the last part. I’ve really enjoyed writing this, although it did get tiring towards the end, and I just wanted it done. I’m sorry if you think this is a bit rushed, I just wanted to finish it. Any feedback, how it should have been done is gratefully received. Who knows, if you inspire me enough, I might re-write it! Thanks for all the people who did send feedback. I love you all!!
<<‘What do you want me to do now, Faith?’
‘Nothing. I don’t have any right to ask for a thing. Walk away. Never look back. I don’t want you to do anything because you feel an obligation, or you pity me.’
‘Not even if I know that some of this was my fault?’
‘It wasn’t, B.’
‘It was, Faith. You and I both know I’m not a saint.’
‘Do what you want. Do what feels right. All I ask is, I don’t want you to pity me. And know that I always loved you, whatever I did.’
‘I know.’>>
She looked younger. Curled up against the corner on the bed. She looked so…young. Younger now than back then. Back then she had always had this tough confident persona that made her look older.
Except her eyes. Her eyes back then had looked younger. Now, with the darkness and guarded look. They looked older. The eyes of an old person in a young person’s body.
Buffy tried to imagine what it must have been like in prison for Faith, but couldn’t. Tried to imagine what it was like to be scared to touch someone, or have someone touch you. She failed miserably mostly because she didn’t want to have to imagine it, imagine a life without touch, imagine the actions that had provoked such an extreme response.
Buffy had ordered pizza and it had arrived about ten minutes ago. Faith had picked at a piece, and although she hadn’t felt like eating either, Buffy ate half of it, just for something to do, really. Something to concentrate on instead of the person across the room from her. Instead of wondering what she was meant to do.
Part of her wanted to run and never look back. To get out of this room, ignore that Faith had ever come back. To hide away in college and work and her family and pretend that Faith didn’t exist, and that she hadn’t come back. It was the easy option, and Buffy just wished that for once there would be an easy solution to something.
She knew that pretending Faith didn’t exist, though, was not it. Not the solution. She had done that already, and the consequences were greater than she wished to think about.
So…option number two. Which would be…what? Let Faith back into her life? Be friends with Faith, something they had barely even tried last time back. Could they just be friends? Could the energy and passion and emotion that ran between them, that formed every word, every action, ever be confined in just friendship?
Did she want to confine it to just friendship?
Buffy looked at Faith again, studied her in profile. Her head was leaning against the wall, her eyes closed, the slightest hint of a smile to her dry cracked lips. The bruising had faded from around her eyes, the cuts stark against white skin. The slightest rise and fall of her chest was the only indication of life. She looked tense, though, the muscle defined in her calf where the tracksuit was pulled taunt, as if she was ready to spring into action at a moments notice. Buffy wondered when the last time Faith had truly relaxed was. Whether she could ever fully relax.
Her soft fluffy hair was pulled back in a loose pony-tail. Soft curls ran through it, making it look good enough to run fingers through. Buffy half-heartedly tried to stop the thought, but didn’t try hard enough. She let her eyes travel down. Even in the loose tracksuit bottom and t-shirt she could see Faith hadn’t been looking after herself properly, and not just since they had fought.
The slayer Faith; the leather, the make up, the look, the attitude. Buffy couldn’t see it anywhere on the girl sitting across from her. This girl was beautiful in an understated way. Without the make up, her natural good looks were able to shine through. The way the light hit her cheek bones. Even cracked, the full lips looked inviting-
Woah.
Had she just thought that?
About Faith? Had she seriously just thought that her lips looked…nope she couldn’t say it again, not even to herself.
That her lips were inviting.
Ok, so she could. To herself. Cause no one else could hear her. Tell herself she thought Faith looked kissable.
No no no no no no no
This was not going to happen. Not now. Not just because Faith had come back this new, vulnerable person. IT WAS AN ACT. It had to be. She couldn’t be this person. Faith was mean, and bad, and so good looking when she was staring at her in that way.
‘B?’
And said her name in that oh so inviting husky voice…
‘You look kinda strange. Are you ok?’
And looked at her with those gorgeous- no no no no no. Not gorgeous. Just brown eyes. That was all they were. Just simple intoxicating, inviting brown eyes…why was she torturing herself?
‘B?’
Buffy managed a nod, unconsciously licking her lips, sitting up straight on the seat, blocking all thought, benign or otherwise from her mind. ‘I’m fine.’ She managed to say.
Faith regarded her for a few moments before looking away. Buffy immediately wanted for her to look back, missed looking into those eyes, missed them like…why was this happening now?
‘I…I have to go.’ She said suddenly, leaping to her feet. ‘I have to go and…cook dinner for my sister. She’ll be hungry otherwise and start complaining. Or worse try and cook herself. So I should go. Cook for her. Now.’ Buffy didn’t want the walls to fall now, to remember all those feelings she had had to forget three years ago, all those feelings she had for Faith. Buffy wanted the safe life, not this, not this with Faith.
Faith was at least looking at her again. With one eyebrow raised slightly, an ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or ask’, look on her face. ‘Uh, ok?’
‘But I’ll be back. Tomorrow. Bring some food. For you. Tomorrow. Is that ok?’
The look was still very much in evident. ‘Yeah. Tomorrow.’ Faith answered, watching in amusement as Buffy quickly left the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind her. Faith stayed looking at the door, wondering at the weirdness that was B sometimes.
She was startled five minutes later, by Buffy, bursting through the door, sounding like she’d just run up five flights or stairs.
‘I…I…I…I just had to say…’
Faith sat up slightly, her heart beginning to pound, as she watched Buffy carefully. Anticipation, hope trying to push their way to the surface despite her innate ability to ignore them.
‘I had to say why did you come back here?’
The hope burst like a balloon at the stinging element to Buffy’s words.
‘Why come back here, into my life. I had just got everything worked out, everything back on routine, I was at work, at college, Dawn was ok, I had my friends. And then you came back, and made me look at my life again, made me evaluate everything I had built up again. Why did you do it, Faith? Why do you want to ruin me again?’
‘I didn’t, I-’
Buffy carried on as if Faith hadn’t spoken aloud.
‘I didn’t want to know that I was only doing everything because I’m scared of how much I didn’t feel about anything. And now you show up, and I feel something again, and I’ve forgotten how damn good it is to feel something other than this nothingness that is my life. Why did you come here, and tell me that you love me? Why did you tell me something like that? Why couldn’t you have just left it?’
Buffy went to turn around, but stopped, looking back over her shoulder. ‘You shouldn’t have come back Faith. Everything was going so well.’
Faith was stunned, but something forced words she didn’t realise she had out. ‘Tell me why, then B. Tell me why I feel like this? Tell me why I love you so much? Tell me why it hurts so damn much that you don’t?’
Buffy answer was so quiet, so unexpected, that Faith didn’t hear it till Buffy thoughtfully repeated them. ‘I do.’
‘Then how can you walk away from this?’ Faith yelled, on her feet now, the happiness she thought she would achieve at hearing Buffy say that she loved her lost in the pain of thinking she was about to lose her again.
‘I have to Faith.’
‘No! No you don’t have to! That’s not fair. You can’t say you love me then walk away. You can’t come here and accuse me of messing up your life when I didn’t do anything wrong. Didn’t do anything except make you see the truth.’
'I don’t have any other choice, Faith. I can’t risk everything I have here. Not on you.'
‘You have the choice, B. Stay- here with me. You said that you didn’t have anything in your life. Have me! I love you. Don’t leave me here like this…I’m not strong enough. I can’t face it alone, I can’t stand alone.’
‘Yes you can. You’re strong, Faith. Stronger than this. Stronger than me.’
‘Not without you. I came back because of you, because of everything I feel for you. I don’t have anything else, B. If you leave, I don’t have anything else.’
‘You came back, Faith, not because of me, but because you are the strongest person I know. The stubbornness person I know. But I’m not the girl for you. I can’t be the girl for you. I have too much to lose.’
‘What? What do you have to lose? You don’t have to lose anything. Why can’t I be a part of your life?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Then uncomplicate it! It’s simple. You either love me or you don’t. You cannot love me, and walk away from me. I thought love was more than this. Why can’t you make it that simple?’
There was silence for the moment. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the apartment. Faith took a hesitant step towards Buffy, then another.
In a whisper she stated ‘I’m tired of fighting. Always fighting. With myself mostly. I’m sick of this. Sick of having to fight for everything. I’m tired, tired of this.’
‘Tired of me?’ Buffy whispered, scared at the feeling of hurt that welled up at the thought.
‘No.’ Faith said with a determined shake of the head. ‘No never. Just…tired of me. It’s taking all my energy, just to stand here, and say this to you. I can’t do it. I can’t cope with people, I don’t know how to stop panicking at every little thing. I can’t walk down a street with some little movement making me think I’m gonna have a heart attack, that I can’t breath, that I can’t get the air in my lungs. I can’t fight this. I don’t know how to.’
‘You can do this, Faith. Look at me…look at me.’ Faith reluctantly looked up at her. ‘We can do this.’
‘There is no we here.’
‘Perhaps…perhaps there should be.’ Buffy said hesitantly ‘You and me. How it should have been back then. You and me against the world. It didn’t work then, perhaps it can work now. You’re not alone, Faith. Let me be with you?’
‘I…I don’t know how.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘What if I can’t-’
‘We can. We will find a way.’
‘How?’
‘Together. Some how.’
‘Show me?’
Buffy moved slowly, breaking the distance between them in two steps. Before Faith could work out what she was doing, she was kissing Buffy.
Her heart stopped. Her breathing stopped. The world stopped. However good she thought that kissing Buffy would be, it was nothing compared to this. The panic at the touch was swiftly replaced by the warmth, the feeling, the desire she had, was getting from Buffy. For the first time in a long time Faith relaxed into someone else’s touch. Relaxed into the feel of skin, without fear or panic, or anger. Just with feeling. The best feeling in the world.
They broke apart, Faith opening her eyes to look at Buffy. ‘Love me, please?’ She whispered.
Buffy looked at the person before her. Really looked. Saw the girl she had loved but denied herself of for too long. Because…because of many things. Fear mostly. Looked at the first person that had ever made her leave the earth with a simple kiss.
‘Always, Faith.’