Life is interesting.
Of course, by interesting, I mean that it fuckin sucks.
Eight weeks. That's how long I've been miserable for. Eight weeks of having Buffy avoid me whenever her friends were around. Eight weeks of fleeting visits, whereby B would come by after patrol, stay for a few hours, and leave before her absence was noticed. Eight weeks of workin lotsa over-time cos I had nothin else better to do.
Eight weeks of weird mixed signals that I couldn't even begin to decipher.
I think I was pretty fuckin patient. I never asked more of B, and I let her act distant and then clingy without givin her shit about the sudden changes between hot and cold. For anyone else, I woulda pushed them out the door with their jacket and shoes a long time ago. But this was B. It was a different situation. We were madly in love.
Or so I thought.
But last night was the breaking point. Something in me finally snapped; made me realize that maybe even a person like me doesn't deserve to be treated like B has been treating me.
I'm nobody's dark, dirty secret, and I won't let myself get used anymore.
That's exactly what B has been doin' to me all along. Using me. Stringing me along. Making me feel like she needed me, when in actuality, all she needed was to support her superiority complex.
That's right. Superiority complex. Imagine that: Faithy knows some big words. It's probably cos of all that time I've been spending with G-man and his books lately. It's not like B has been there to entertain me or keep me company. Well, not most of the time anyways. If I'm not workin, I'm at Giles' place, just reading some books with him and stuff. I think it keeps us both from goin' crazy while the rest of the gang is at college and stuff.
But instead of rambling on about all that shit, I should probably tell you about when I knew things were really startin' to get fucking bad.
B had been living on campus for about two weeks. Yeah, she was spending a lot of time doing school stuff, but we still had a few nights a week together. After all, her roommate wasn't about to run and tell the Scoobs if B didn't come home for the night. They didn't like each other; the girl was probably happy to be rid of B every now and then.
Things didn't seem so bad when it was just me and B, just laying on my bed and talking or touching or whatever. It almost felt like the times that we had spent together that summer.
But in the morning, she'd have to get up wicked early in order to get back to campus and shower before her first class. She'd get real quiet as she wandered around my apartment, gathering her things up into her arms and randomly stuffing them into her bag. Mostly, I'd just stand at the doorway of the bedroom and watch her, wanting to stop her from leaving but too scared to jeopardize our few happy moments by making demands of her.
When she finally finished gathering her stuff, I'd walk over and stand before her, trying to catch her eyes. She'd finally look up at me, give me a sad smile, and close the distance between us to wrap her arms around me. I'd hold her back just as tight, keeping quiet and just enjoying the feel of her against me. After all . . . I never knew how long it was gonna be 'til I would be able to touch her again.
After a minute, she'd finally sigh out, "I don't wanna leave here", her voice thick with tears. For that one moment, she'd admit it to herself that she wanted me; needed me.
There was a simple solution to it all, really.
"Then don't." I'd tell her. Simple as that.
She'd pull out of my arms just enough to give me a small kiss on the lips, then pull away completely and collect her bag.
"I have to."
It always ended that way. She'd grab her bag and walk towards the door, carefully avoiding my eyes as she opened it, walked out, and closed it her softly behind her.
Sometimes she'd just stand on the other side of the door for a few minutes. How do I know this? Well, cos I'd stand there and wait for her to come running back in; to jump up, wrap her legs around me, and tell me that she loved me and wanted to be with me, no matter what. I'd stand there and wait until I would hear her footsteps walking away.
I was always waiting for her.
Suffice it to say, she never ran back in like I had hoped. I think you pretty much guessed that by now.
After those first two weeks, things started to change up again. Buffy's roommate situation got all wiggy, and, after her demon-roommate had left . . . Willow decided to move in.
That, my friends, was the official signature on the death warrant of mine and Buffy's 'relationship', pretty much.
Don't get me wrong; it wasn't completely Red's fault. Maybe if she had known about me and B, she wouldn't have screwed things up so badly. But, as the situation would have it, she was the catalyst behind all of the bad stuff that was going to happen.
For a week after Red had moved in, I hadn't been alone with B once. Twice we had seen each other at Giles' place, but the Scoobs had been there both times. That pretty much meant that we sat on opposite sides of the room, avoiding the knowing glances of Anya and the oblivious ones of the Scoobs. Apparently, since B and I had been so distant from one another after the dinner fiasco a few weeks before, they had assumed that there really was nothing going on between us.
I wonder if Anya ever actually gave Xander the money for winning the 'bet' that we were really only 'just good friends'. That chick is so tight with her money . . . I can't see how'd she give it up willingly, especially knowing the secret truth.
The few nights that we patrolled together, Red had tagged along cos she really didn't have much else to do, apparently. She and B would talk excitedly about college stuff, and I'd just stay quiet and grumble to myself.
Especially when Red would bring up the 'totally cute and available' teaching assistant, Riley.
"You should go out with him, Buff. He's totally into you." Red squealed, jumping up and down a bit.
I just snickered and said, "Yeah, B, you should totally go out with him." I mimicked Red as best I could without being too obvious.
B would just give me a no-nonsense glance before responding to the redhead.
"I don't think so, Will. I don't really want, or need, a boyfriend right now." She answered with indifference.
Red's giddy expression turned into a more concerned one, and her voice took on a softer tone.
"But, Buff . . . maybe it would be nice for you to go on a date or something. This whole past week, all you've done is sit in our room and mope all night."
Oh really?
I stole a look over at B whose eyes had widened at the comment. She kept her vision focused straight ahead of her, taking a moment to respond.
"These are one of those kinds of fish that I'm gonna let get away, Will. I appreciate the thought . . . but I'm not much of the pursuer these days."
Red just nodded her head, trying to wear some sorta look of understanding on her face. We walked in silence for the rest of that night, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
I remember thinking, 'Please, let this be the last that we ever hear of this fucking topic'. It felt fucking scary . . . mostly, I think, because it felt like foreshadowing; like it was gonna happen, and that the conversation was just a little taste of things to come.
And when I'm right, I'm fucking right.
After another week of B 'moping' around the room, Red finally took matters into her own hands. She arranged for a date between my girl and the Teaching Assistant, Riley.
A big and dorky fucktart, if you ask me.
Me, B, and Red had been walking out of Giles' apartment after a Scooby meeting when Red had finally told her about it.
"You what?!? Willow, I told you that I don't want or need a boyfriend right now!" Buffy said exasperatedly, stopping right in the middle of the sidewalk. "I don't want to go on any dates!"
Willow looked both nervous and concerned at the same time.
In all honesty, I think she was just trying to be a good friend. She just wanted B to get outta their dorm every now and then to find the fun a little. She just didn't realize that B was supposed to be 'finding the fun' with me.
"Buff, it's not a date. It's just . . . coffee. A meeting of acquaintances. A chance for conversation with someone who isn't one of your close-knit friends. Getting to know someone that could be a possible love interest if things go well."
B just tossed her arms down to her sides and did a half-stomp kinda thing.
"I may not be Miss On-top-of-the Latest-Trends, but I think that's what the 'kids' these days are calling 'dates'! That's not something I wanna get into, Will." B said excitedly, finally glancing over to me.
I think that I was just frozen where I stood at that point. I don't even think that I had heard most of their conversation . . . I was too busy listening to the sound of my teeth grinding against each other.
Pissed off? Yeah. You have no idea.
B and I locked eyes with each other, a silent battle being fought between us. Her eyes were begging me to understand. My eyes were telling her to fuck off.
"I just want to see a bit of the old Buffy again." Willow said concerned, a pleading smile on her face. "The one from the summer that was all smiley and light-hearted. I'm not saying that you have to marry him and have incredibly cute babies. Just . . . get out for a night. Even if only to make me feel better about it for a day."
She said the last part in a joking manner, but I knew that B would take it seriously. She's always serious when it comes to her friends, and keeping them safe and happy.
B just stood there, eyes still locked on mine, when she gave the slightest nod of her head. A motion of agreement, of submitting.
I just shook my head slightly and clenched my jaw, my lips cracking up at the corners into an angry grin as I held back my anger.
Finally, Willow turned to me.
"Faith? What do you think about all this?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she studied my face. I wasn't gonna let on one ounce of what I was feeling.
I unclenched my teeth to put on a fake smile, keeping my eyes locked on B's.
"What do I think?" I asked with a chuckle that came out more bitter than I hoped to let on. "I think it sounds like B's going on a date." I smiled as big as I could, completely fake-looking, I walked away from them and in the opposite direction down the street.
If B thought that I was gonna sit back and be cool with her going out with some random meathead, she had another thing coming. I had been patient. I had been understanding. But then I was just pissed. Pissed that I had ever let things get that bad.
I walked to the bar down the street from my apartment and had a few beers, hiding out for most of that afternoon. I just wanted to be numb for a while. To stop feeling.
After a few hours had passed and darkness had finally fell over the town, I made my way back up to my apartment and stumbled in the door, not drunk but not quite clear-headed either. I was leaving the slaying to B that night cos I really needed some time to just fucking mellow out. I was too fucking wound up.
When I flicked on the light, I came face to face with a teary-eyed Buffy. It sobered me right up. So much for not feeling.
She sat silently on the couch, eyes locked on mine from the moment that I had caught sight of her. I blinked hard a few times before finally tearing my eyes away and moving through the room. I tossed my jacket aside and kicked my boots off, going about my business as if nothing was wrong. Again, my jaw was tightly clenched.
"Are we going to talk about this?" She asked solemnly, her eyes following me around the room.
I couldn't stand still. I was afraid that if I did, my emotions and my anger would catch up with me and have me completely overwhelmed. I had to keep moving.
"No." I said simply, my voice hoarse.
She sighed. "We really need to." Her voice was pleading. She wanted me to make it easier for her, I think, but I wasn't gonna let this go down without a fight.
"No, we really don't." I replied quickly, standing to face her. "You made your decision. I obviously have no fucking say in it, so I'm backing off. I get the picture, B. You have a new prospect so you're done with me now. Fine. Okay. Whatever. Now leave."
I started moving around the room again, making my way into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of beer outta the fridge. I opened it quickly and took a long swig, draining half of the contents in one go.
"So you've resorted to drinking?" Her voice rang out from just behind me, leaning on the doorframe. She was giving me a look . . . condescending and . . . arrogant?
"Just like you resorted to serial dating to make you feel better. Don't patronize me, Saint Buffy. You don't get to turn this around on me, so back the fuck off."
Nice Faith was gone. Nice Faith had left the building a long time ago. This was the real Faith . . . straightforward, uncaring, and unwavering. It felt good to have her back.
I walked past her and into the living room, plopped down on the couch with my beer, and turned on the TV. As far as I was concerned, the conversation was over. She needed to take the hint and get gone.
Just when I thought that maybe I had scared her off, I felt the couch sink down next to me. There she was, sitting so that her body faced me, her eyes glued onto my face.
I turned my head to her after a few minutes of silence, staring at her emotionless. "What?" I asked her, annoyed.
"I'm not doing this for me." She said quietly, her eyes begging me to understand.
"Well, that makes ME feel a whole lot better, twinkie. Wanna fuck?" I said as sarcastic and crude as possible.
It made her flinch. I'm not a sadist, but . . . it felt good.
"Faith, don't. Don't be like that." She whispered, looking down at her lap.
"How the fuck do you want me to act?" I asked, sitting forward a bit so that I could get in her face. "How do you want me to react to the fact that my GIRLFRIEND, whom I can't even be with in any other capacity than secretly stashed away in my apartment, is going out on a fucking date with someone else? I'm pissed off, B, and there ain't no way for me to hide it."
"I know." She said, eyes still trained on her lap. "I'm not happy about it either."
I scoffed.
"Then do something about it. Say no. Tell him to fuck off. You're not powerless, B. Grow a fucking pair already." I sat back against the couch and exhaled loudly, breathing out a bit of my anger. I brought my hands up to my face and pressed the heels of them into my eyes, rubbing hard.
"If I can just do this, get through this, keep my friends off of my back for a little while longer, then I'll be able to deal with telling them about us. I just need you to be patient."
I laughed, shaking my head. "I've been patient. I'm all out of patient. Now I'm full of 'pissed off' and impatient."
Then, in an act of desperation I think, she bypassed the talking and went right for the feeling. Before I could stop her, she was straddling my lap and had my face in her hands, staring deep into my eyes.
"Just a few more weeks, Faith. Two weeks. I'll have my friends off my back about the finding the fun. I'll tell them that I only wanna find the fun with you. I'll let them know about the summer, and how you've been there for me since last year. If we can only get through these next two weeks . . . we can be happy together."
I couldn't move. I was lost so deep in her eyes . . . in her words . . . in the way that she had leaned in and was softly kissing my lips.
I wanted happily ever after with B. I really did. So I let go of the tension in my body and unclenched my fists, placing them softly on her lower back, pulling her closer against me.
That was about four weeks ago.
I gave her twice as much time as she had asked for. I let her come to me as she needed and spent time with her, only for her to leave before bedtime. She'd cry against my chest, her arms wrapped around me, and told me that she didn't want to go back to her dorm . . . that she wanted to stay with me.
I thought that she meant it.
But last night was the breaking point. She came and told me that she was still 'dating' Riley. That she had kissed him a few times, but that it was only so not as to rouse suspicion within him at her lack of interest. That she was going to 'continue' dating him, because her friends were so happy for her at the moment. That she needed me to wait a little bit longer.
That she couldn't stay because she was going to the movies with him.
I didn't let her see any of what I was feeling. Any of the pain, hate, hurt, anger. I waited until she left . . . and then I broke down. I finally lost control. I finally realized that my dream world was crashing down before my eyes . . . and that I was powerless to stop it.
So, now you know what's happened up 'til now.
I fucked up. Allow me to explain.
Buffy Summers is like the sun. She's bright and warm, and one of the most beautiful things that I've ever seen. I was entranced by her. I had to get closer. I wanted to see, to feel, to touch . . .
. . . and I did. Guess I just never realized that, when you touch the sun . . . you're gonna get burned.
Yes, I was stupid. Yes, I reached out. Yes, I touched. And yes, I got burned.
And now I'm leaving.
Don't shake your fucking head at me, and don't gimme that fucking look. You don't know. This has gotta be one of the hardest fuckin things I've ever done . . . walking away from the one thing in life that I've ever loved unconditionally.
Buffy told me that she loves me. I believed her once. Maybe she does, I dunno. I guess I can't know for sure. But I DO know that love isn't supposed to hurt. It isn't supposed to make you feel broken and used. That's why I know that this 'thing' between B and me can't be love.
She's my great love . . . and I'm her crutch. She's using me . . . and I think it's killing me.
Not physically, of course, cos I'm a fucking ROCK. But when I look in the mirror, I don't recognize who the person in the reflection. 'Faith' is gone. All that's left is this . . . girl . . . and she looks broken . . . sad . . . hurt. That's not me. Never has been.
I never should have let myself get to this point. Fucking pathetic.
This isn't who I am, or want to be.
So, like I said, I'm leaving. I need to find myself again. I need to get back into the routine of not giving a fuck . . . cos it hurts too much when I do.
I've just finished packing the rest of my clothes into my backpack and 2 duffle bags. That's what my life amounts to. Three bags full of clothes and the small wad of cash in my pocket.
I've got the row of pictures that B and I had taken in the cheesy photo booth stashed in my backpack. It'll serve two purposes: one, to remind me of the good times. Two, to remind me not to let my defenses down again, cos I don't know if this is something that I would willingly put myself through a second time.
Just as I heft the backpack over my shoulder and bend down to pick up the two bags, I hear keys jangling in the door.
I don't need a psychic to tell me who it is. I can feel the tingles. B is here for her casual dose of Faith. But I'm not gonna let her have it this time. I can't. If I give her any more, it might break me.
I almost feel like I wanna panic . . . throw my bags out the window and jump out after them. But that's pretty fucking cowardly, and I generally like to think that I'm tougher than that.
With every ounce of will that I have left in my body, I put the bags back down on the floor and take a seat at the end of the bed, looking down as I fiddled nervously with the hem of my shirt.
The shirt B gave me.
Fuck.
"Baby?" She calls out into the apartment, getting closer to the room. I flinch as I hear the chipper tone in her voice, knowing full well that though she may not love me . . . this could very well break her heart. Fuck, it's breaking mine too.
She enters the room with a bounce in her step and a bag from McDonalds, pausing immediately as she notices the solemn look on my face.
Our gazes stay locked on one another, her eyebrows furrowing as she works out the implications of the scene around us.
The open drawers. The empty closet. The bare clothes hangers lying around. The bags that lay at my feet.
I can hear her breath catch in her throat, and I'm pretty sure that she's either about to say something or cry. I know that at this moment, I can't handle either.
If she cries, I'm gonna run to her. If she speaks, I'm gonna run to her.
Therefore, I need to get the fuck outta here before I bend to her yet again.
Slowly, I stand up from the edge of the bed, flinging the backpack over my shoulder and lifting the two duffle bags in either hand. I turn my gaze toward the bedroom door and start a path towards it, cautiously avoiding eye contact as I make my way past her and into the living room.
This feels so familiar. I wonder if she's feeling what I normally did when she walked away from ME like that.
Just as I approach the apartment door and think that I've made it out without a hassle, I hear the McDonalds bag drop and a pair of footsteps running out into the living room.
I can do this. I'm Faith. I tilt my neck and hear it crack as it adjusts for the onslaught of whatever is to come at me.
Warily, I drop the bags at my feet and turn around to face the living room, keeping the most unaffected look on my face that I can muster.
Fuck. Be strong, Faith.
As she stands 10 feet away from me with tears running silently down her face, I draw in a deep breath and prepare to make the hardest speech of my life.
Chapter Eleven - They Say 'Goodbye' Is a Difficult Thing
How exactly do you start out a conversation like this?
Seriously, tell me how, cos B and I have been standing here staring at each other, completely silent, for the last five minutes.
Yeah. Pretty fuckin awkward.
She has this steady trickle of tears streaming down her face, and I can tell that she's biting on her lip to keep back from crying aloud. As for me, well . . . I'm just tryin' to look as emotionless as possible. I don't need to have an emotional outburst at this point in time, cos I'm pretty sure that she knows exactly what I'm feeling.
Still . . . I don't think that I can be mean right now. Don't get me wrong, besides being sad about the situation, I'm just pissed off. I think that's understandable. But this moment doesn't need to be any tougher than it already is. I'm gonna keep my cool, and I'm gonna try to be as calm and rational as possible.
Finally, the silence gets to be too much for me and I just say the first thing that I can think of.
"It doesn't mean that I don't still love you." I mumble out, my eyes burning into hers as if trying to convey the truth behind my words.
It's true; I do still love her. Always will, I think. But for the first time in a long time, I'm putting myself before her. Fuck, it's exactly the same thing that she's been doing to me; putting herself first. Only difference is that I'm trying to be considerate of her feelings.
"Then what does it mean?" She whispers, her lips barely moving.
I sigh as I choose over my words.
"It means . . . well . . . I guess it means that I can't be your security blanket anymore, B." It wasn't said with malice or contempt. I don't think I said the words for her . . . it was more of an affirmation for myself.
Her eyebrows raise a bit and she shakes her head, trying to convince me as well as herself that it's not true.
"Security blanket? No, that's not what you were. What you are. I love you, Faith, and I want you here with me. Need you here with me."
She takes a few steps forward until she's standing just in front of me, an arms length away. Tentatively, she reaches her right arm out to me and rests it on my upper arm, but I don't even react to the touch. I've made myself numb so that I can go through with this. Not even the power of the Slayer-tingles can break through my resolve right now.
My mind is made up, and I know what I have to do.
"I don't doubt that you love me, B. I know you do. Or at least I think you do. But you're not in love with me. There's a difference. For as long as I can remember, I've been in love with you. Madly. I've done everything that I can to keep you with me and to make you fall in love with me back. But, in light of recent events, I've come to the conclusion that you'll never love me the way that I love you. It's not fair for me to keep trying when you'll just . . .never get to that point."
She pulls her hand back to her side and keeps staring into my eyes, her lip trembling a bit as my words wash over her.
"That's not true. I am . . ." She begins, but I cut her off before she can finish her sentence.
"Don't." I say, shaking my head just once as I let my eyes close. If I let her finish that sentence, I'm gonna break. I need to stay focused and get this over with.
And I think the situation is really starting to sink in with her. She knows that my mind is made up, and I think she just figured out that there's nothing she can do to stop it. Not by being pouty and sad, anyways. I open my eyes just in time to see her wipe her tears away with the back of her hand before walking a few steps away and turning her back away from me.
"So this is how it's gonna be." She says, and I can tell that her jaw is clenched. "Something doesn't go your way and you run, just like always. That's so cowardly, Faith."
Ahh. Reverse psychology. I know it well. How so? Because I always fall for it.
She says my name as if it hurts to say it . . . like it's leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She's trying to piss me off, just so that I show some kind of emotion.
Well, it worked. My sense of 'cool' is gone.
I take a step forward in her direction, letting my arms flail around as I start to rant.
"Hey, you don't get to make judgments like that, Saint Buffy. The day that you asked Anya to hide our 'relationship' is the day that you gave up that right, and when you came here yesterday and told me that you were gonna keep 'dating' Riley, I decided that I'm not gonna give you that right back. I've had enough of your bullshit, so you can find someone else to mindfuck. I'm done being the 'dirty little secret'."
Hello, Angry Faith. Welcome back.
Ha ha! And now she's even more pissed off. She spins around and gives me the most defiant look that she can manage. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and I'll be damned if I didn't just see her stomp.
"You were never my 'dirty little secret', Faith. I was just trying to keep our relationship safe from the judgment of my friends while I worked out the details of it in my head."
Do you smell that too? More bullshit. I'm not buyin' it.
"Bullshit." I say, calling her out, taking another step towards her. "There are no details to work out, Buffy. I love you. You love me. Your friends and family love you, so they deal. It's as fucking simple as that. But you, of course . . . you have to complicate things and over-think them. And if you haven't realized the fact that your friends have probably known about us in their own way for months now, then you're really not as smart as you're given credit for."
Zing! You wanna know how to really get Buffy's attention? Point out that the secrets she thinks she's keeping aren't so secret.
Then question her intelligence.
Did I mention that Angry Faith likes to push people's buttons?
The defiant look remains on her face, but I can see her fists clenching at her sides. I know that I'm egging her on, but I think that's what I'm going for here. It'll be a hell of a lot easier to walk away from her if we're fighting; will make me wanna run back to her less.
"You're such a victim." She utters.
And here I was expecting her to go on the defensive. But I was wrong. She's gonna keep attacking. Fine. She wants a victim, she'll get a victim.
"Victim?" I say bitterly. "Hmm. Let's see. You come to me when you feel empty or need something. You get your fill and then you leave and go back to your life, feeling happy and content and ready to deal, at least for a while. But me? I don't have another life to turn to when you leave. You're my life. And I can't pretend that my heart doesn't fucking break every time that you walk out that door."
I couldn't help the way that my voice trembled on that last sentence. I felt like I wanted to cry. Fuck, I can taste the tears in the back of my throat, feel my eyes stinging. I know that my resolve is breaking . . . not that I'm gonna run into her arms, but . . . I'm definitely a few steps away from letting the tears fall.
She must have noticed the tremble in my voice, cos suddenly she's a step closer to me and looking up into my eyes.
"Faith . . . that's not all you have. I'm not all you have. You have Giles, and my friends. And you have slaying." She says, her voice soft as she tries to comfort me.
But her words have only served to piss me off even more.
"I have slaying?" I ask in disbelief, my voice going up an octave, my eyebrows raised.
Does she really think that slaying is something that I base my life on? That I would ever base my life on something like that willfully?
"Fuck that, Buffy." I say, my voice dripping with anger. "Slaying is NOT my life. It's not even a fucking hobby. I do it cos I'm meant to. I don't get paid for it, I'm not gonna get famous for it, I don't live for it, and I certainly won't fuckin plan my life around it. And far as your 'friends' go . . . they're not my friends, B. They don't like me. They'd never waste their breath on me if I wasn't a Slayer and somehow attached to you like that. They simply tolerate my presence. Trust me, they won't fuckin shed a tear when they find out I'm gone, and they can go back to fawning over you and Riley."
Did you ever watch a kid get yelled at in public? The way they kinda cower and slink back? I mean, that's what I used to do when gettin' screamed at by my parents. Part of the body's natural instinct to protect itself, possibly from physical attack. But I'd never hit, B. I'd never put her through anything like that, like I used to get when I was young.
I think that I've already lost her attention at this point in time. She's looking down at some random spot on the floor, her eyes welling up with even more tears, her head silently shaking back and forth.
She doesn't wanna believe me. Doesn't wanna believe that the words I'm saying are true. But she knows that I'm right. That she's wrong. That her candy-covered world is suddenly taking a bitter turn.
"I have nothing, B. And I think you like that. You like having that kinda power and that kinda control over me. Gives your life that much more worth. And I don't mind giving up some stuff for you, Buffy . . . any material things I had I would give up for you. But the way you use that power against me and don't even realize it, or care even . . . it makes me feel weak . . . and it's killing me."
That last sentence made her eyes shoot back up to me, giving me a pained expression before sinking her eyes back down to that random spot on the floor.
Yeah, B. The truth hurts. Fuck, I've been able to learn that first-hand.
And I know I should stop talking. That I should just pick up my bags and go . . . get the hell outta here before I hurt her anymore . . . before I hurt myself anymore. But before I can stop myself, I let just a few more words slide out.
"So, yeah. Maybe I am a victim, Buffy. But yunno what? You made me that way."
It brought the whole issue back home.
I was hurt . . . and she was the one who had done that to me. And in the space of 10 minutes, she went from thinking things were fine to knowing that her life, again, was taking a fucked up turn.
And it had been her own doing.
For someone who likes to think that she has a certain amount of control in her life, that musta been the thing that hurt her the most. She let things get this bad. She's gonna have to step up and take responsibility for this one; nobody else can.
For the first time in forever . . . a 'shitty situation' isn't my fault. It makes me feel a bit better about myself, but, still . . . shitty situation nonetheless.
I should be used to this kinda crap. Really. I never learn.
I turn away from her, about to just pick up my bags and be done with this all, when I hear a small thud behind me. I casually steal a quick glance over my shoulder to see that Buffy has fallen to her knees, her hands over her face as she weeps silently.
Part of me wants to watch her cry, just to get a little closure. Part of me wants to just walk out and start to move on.
But then there's that little nagging part of me that still loves her so much, and wants to make sure she's okay before I go. Cos, yeah . . . I'm still going. Ain't nothin' gonna change that.
I sigh aloud, knowing that I should say or do something, but not knowing exactly what.
With my eyes locked on her huddled figure, I manage a few jumbled words.
"Don't cry, B. It's not worth it." I'm trying to be as emotionless as possible again.
Her head shoots up at me and she gives me a dangerous glare. It says, 'back off'.
"Don't tell me how to feel, Faith." She spits out. "Go."
And I stay.
"Get out."
And I'm still standing here, staring down at her.
"Leave."
Tell me again why I'm still fuckin standing here? I sigh.
I know why I'm still standing here.
Fucking lovesick fool.
"Run away, Faith. Run. Run away from me, because I'm a big, scary, nasty, un-loving, cold-hearted bitch, and because . . . because . . . because I don't wanna hurt you anymore. I can't. I won't."
She inhales a sharp breath before her shoulders start to shake uncontrollably with her sobs. God, she's cryin so fuckin hard, and she's just lookin up at my face . . . just watching me though her teary eyes.
And I realize that I don't want to hurt her. I don't wanna leave on a bitter note. I can't. There's still too much love.
I walk forward and drop to my knees in front of her, waiting just for a moment before I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight to me, trying to still her shaking body.
"Shhhh." I whisper, one hand on the small of her back and the other on the back of her head, holding her to my shoulder and smoothing down her hair.
I hold her like that for a few minutes. There's no fighting the few tears that escape down my cheeks. 'Goodbye' has never been a difficult thing for me before, but . . . this is just tearing me up inside.
It feels so final.
Her breathing finally evens out and I release my tight hold on her enough so that I can pull back and look at her face.
Big mistake.
We stare into one another's eyes for a few moments. Her tears are still falling, though silently now. Slowly, I bring my hands up to her face and run my thumbs over her cheeks, wiping her tears away.
A soft breath escapes her lips, and before I know what's happening, we're kissing.
Hard, deep, fast, desperate, wanting, loving, hating.
It's her last attempt. Or maybe it's her goodbye. I dunno. But I'm not fighting it . . . I'm just letting it happen . . . letting us feel for the last time.
Our arms find their way around each other and we cling tightly, our bodies swaying as we kneel there, the force of the kiss making us teeter back and forth.
When I feel her whimper into my mouth, I know I have to stop this. Once and for all.
I pull back from her mouth, resting my forehead against hers as we catch our breath. We're still holding on tightly to one another, her fingers continually moving on my skin.
"Faith." She whispers, trying to catch my eyes with her own.
But I just unwrap my arms from her and sit my butt back on my heels, looking down at my lap.
"Faith." She whispers again, but I just can't look up at her.
I can't.
You understand, right?
With all of the strength and will that I have left in me, I stand up and turn around. I walk the few steps to my bags, bend slightly, and pick them up.
"Faith!" She says louder, pleading with her voice.
She knows I'm not deaf. I know I'm not deaf. I can hear her perfectly . . . but I'm not listening. I'm already out the door and walking down the hallway when I pick up her quiet whisper.
"Please . . . I love you . . . please." Her words are being choked out quietly between sobs.
I feel so fucking cold-hearted that I can't even force myself to turn around and look at her, or giver her any type of response at all. I'm walking through the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door rigidly, my jaw clenched tightly, my fingers gripping tight around the handles of my bags.
It's not me. It's the old Faith. The girl who doesn't care and doesn't feel and doesn't get hurt. And something inside of me is screaming . . . trying to get my attention . . . telling me that I don't wanna be that girl anymore. That I've changed. That Sunnydale has changed me into a person that I actually kinda like.
But it hurts too much being the girl that cares.
I don't know if I can fully go back to being the old Faith.
So, I go for the next best thing. If you can't take the Sunnydale outta the girl . . . take the girl outta Sunnydale.
As I walk out the front door and down the middle of the street towards the Sunnydale Bus Terminal, I can feel something wash over me. A light tingle that starts at my toes, courses through my body, and tickles my scalp. She's watching me walk away, I can feel it. Just like when she used to watch me walk down her walkway from her bedroom window.
I stop dead in my tracks in the middle of the street. I know I shouldn't, but . . .
I turn my head back and steal a glance up at the window. Sure enough, I can see B standing there, looking down at me. Her body jumps a little when she sees me look up at her, and we just lock eyes over the distance. Slowly, she brings her hand up to the window and places her palm flat against it, holding it out to me.
And of course, because it's the way life always works out for me, the sky decided to start pouring buckets of rain on me at that exact moment.
Fucking priceless. Someone wanna write a book about this shit?
I give her a brief sad smile before nodding my head once and continuing my way down the street, my boots sloshing in the rapidly filling puddles.
I keep repeating "I am not making a mistake" over and over in my head, making sure that I can agree with it every time that I say it.
So far, so good.
I barely even realize that I had been walking for so long as I approach the bus terminal. It's the middle of the night, so there's pretty much no one around. An old man is propped up against the one bench with his suitcase against the building, using it as a pillow as he sleeps. There's a greasy dude behind the ticket window, eyeing me up as I approach, his eyeballs popping outta his head as I get closer.
Hot girl. Lotsa rain. Wet t-shirt. You get the idea.
"Where you headed to, little girl?" He asks as he stares at my tits, bringing his eyes up to mine only after I pulled my jacket closed.
"Wherever gets me outta here the quickest." I mumble as I pull a few soggy bills outta my pocket, tossing them on the counter.
He tears his eyes away from me for just a moment as he looks towards the large bus that is pulling up to the terminal.
Lazily, he brings his eyes back to my wet figure and looks me over some more like a total fuckin perv, waggling his eyebrows a few times.
"Bus 104 - non-stop to LA. Or . . . you could always spend the night here with me, sweet thang. I could show you a real nice time." He says as he slides the ticket a bit my way, trying to keep it just outta reach.
Yeah fucking right.
I use my slayer reflexes to slip my hand across the counter and grab the ticket before he could even realize that I had moved. He watched on in awe as I flung my bag back over my shoulder, my ticket in my hand.
"Keep dreaming, pencildick." I say under my breath as I make my way towards the open door of the bus.
I hop up on the bus but stand for a moment on the bottom step, turning back to take a last glance at Sunnydale.
Yunno, it doesn't look as bad as it did when I first stood here a year ago.
I should probably be having some kinda profound revelation as I take in my last breath of sweet air before turning back onto the warm and stuffy bus, but . . . there's nothing.
I think Sunnydale taught me a lot, but the main thing I learned was that you can't keep yourself aloof and unaffected when you drop anchor and try to grow roots. Maybe I'm not meant to have a home and friends and any other marker of stability.
Maybe when I was telling B earlier that there's more to my life than slaying, I was being presumptuous. Maybe it's all I really need.
Either way, I'll have to find out soon.
As the bus takes off towards LA, I sit there in my soaking wet clothes and try not to think, cos all of my thoughts are going right back to the same place. Buffy, smiling. Buffy, laughing. Buffy, crying. Buffy, sleeping. Buffy, lying in my arms.
My life has been so completely consumed by her these last few months that I wonder exactly what I'm gonna do with myself now.
I'm wondering if I made a mistake.
I'm asking myself if I couldn't have just learned to be her number two, her backup.
But then I remember how it made me feel, and how no matter how much I would change myself or try to accept it . . . I just couldn't.
I settle back against the seat and rest my forehead against the window, watching the last year of my life pass before my eyes under the dark cover of the passing landscape. I know I can be strong. It's who I am, or was.
As the bus passes the last streetlamp heading outta town, I catch something in the reflection of the window. Blonde hair just next to me.
I snap my head towards the aisle, my heart pounding in my chest as I prepare myself to see B standing there.
But she wasn't. The old man with the briefcase is now across the aisle from me, sleeping with his arms folded across his chest and his head against the window.
'It's not her, Faith. It's just her ghost. Don't let her haunt you.' I keep telling myself.
I sigh loudly, turning my head and pressing it back against the window.
'Goodbye' isn't difficult. It's fucking terrifying.
I'm so fucking screwed.
Chapter Twelve - Old Friends in New Places
I think I was pretty much dazed for most of the bus ride. I tried to do all of those mind exercises that my first watcher taught me. Pictured beaches and forests and mountains and all that other crap that I was supposed to. Did breathing exercises, just like I was taught
But I'm starting to think that her methods were crap, cos there's pretty much one thing that's been on my mind. Yeah, you guessed right . . . Buffy.
I picture the beach, and I see me and her and I playing a game of tag before I tackle her down in the sand and tickle her silly. I picture the mountains, and I see us camping together in a tent made for two. I picture a forest, and . . . well, that one actually made me picture that Forrest Gump guy, and that little girl, Jenny. 'Run, Forest, run!' Fuck, the thought almost has me laughing, but then I realize that it's the same thing B was tellin' me to do just a few hours ago
Run. Run away
See, this is where I'm gettin' twisted up. Running away from a situation would normally convey cowardice. But, I don't think I'm wrong for leaving. I think I had to. Staying in Sunnydale to be Buffy's security blanket; staying there cos it was a 'safe' choice for me . . . fuck, I think that woulda been the more cowardly thing to do
I took a stand.
I didn't run cos I was scared . . . I ran because I was . . . it was . . . hmm. I'm not sure what I wanna say there. I think maybe it was just me reverting into a state of self-preservation
If I stayed there, there would be nothing of 'me' left. Just a pawn looming quietly in Buffy's shadow
And I'm not about to fuckin go out like that. No way
I don't even realize that the bus has come to a stop until I see a bunch of the other passengers getting up from their seats and taking their baggage down from the overhead racks
Normally, I'd be hoppin' off the bus so fast, bags in hand as I barreled down the aisle and towards the cool fresh air of the night. But my ass kinda seems to be stuck to the seat. Not physically, of course. The bus is gross, but it's not that bad
It's just me, being scared and unsure and a bit hesitant about what I'm gonna do when I step off the safety of the bus
I know what you're thinking . . . . 'yeah right, a public bus in LA is not a safe place'. I've seen the movie Speed.
But as fucked up as it sounds . . . I think maybe being on the bus stopped me from breaking down after I walked away from B. I was allowed to be caught up in my thoughts, but couldn't freak out cos I was in a confined space
I dunno know to explain it, really
And now that I actually have to step off the bus and into the unknown . . . yeah . . . ass planted firmly in seat
When I finally manage to catch the annoyed glare of the bus driver in the rear-view mirror 5 minutes later, I finally decide to just get on with it. I stand up and grab my bags before hesitantly making my way down the aisle and down the steps, hopping with both feet onto the black pavement
Yeah, that's definitely me: always jumping in with both feet, failing to test the waters before I make my move. That's always my downfall.
I make my way outta the bus depot, wandering pretty aimlessly cos it's the middle of the night and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here
Sure, I've been to LA before. Was one of the pit-stops I made on the way to Sunnydale. Lotsa demons, lotsa vamps, and lotsa bad. But, even for a big city, it's not really as bad as Sunnydale. No Hellmouth to get them all rowdy and grrr.
The more I think about it, the more I think that LA could probably use a Slayer to make sure things don't get too bad to spill over onto the Hellmouth. Fuck, maybe I could make a temporary home outta this place
Then again, it's still pretty damn close to Sunnydale. And let's not forget that B's ex, Angel, is probably roaming around here somewhere too. I gotta watch my back twice as much . . . partly to make sure that B doesn't pop up around me, and partly to make sure that Angel doesn't find me. If he does, he'll just tell B I'm here, and then I'll just have to pull up anchor and take off again
See? Gotta be doubly careful
I walk up towards a small diner that seems to be one of the only places still open on the darkened street that I've been wandering down. My clothes are still wet and I'm looking completely like a drowned rat, so it's probably a good thing that I don't really know anyone around here. Can't let them see me like this
I make sure to stand outside the diner for a moment and use my slayer tingles to make sure that I can't feel any vamps or threats around
Cos, yunno, all I need is to walk into the place and find Angel sittin at the counter, eating pie and listening to Manilow on the jukebox
When I'm pretty sure that the place is clear of any big nasties, I peak through the glass door before pushing it open and walking slowly in towards the lunch counter
The place seems pretty clean. Better than most of the joints that I've eaten at while on the road. I try to ignore the squishy-squeaky sound that my boots are making on the linoleum floor, but the place is so quiet that it draws the attention of the few remaining patrons
I look from person to person, giving them all a menacing glare so they know that it's just not a good night to mess with me in any way, shape, or form
The old man and woman in the corner booth just turn back to their bowls of soup and crackers. The three young guys at the table against the window leer at me lustfully, but turn back to their food uncomfortably when lift up my hand and pop them the finger. The cute brunette girl waiting for her order at the counter is just staring at me, mouth open, and . . .
"Faith?"
Aw, fuck
I quickly glance back over my shoulder as my body remains temporarily frozen, almost as if I don't move, she won't see me.
"Faith?"
I pan my options out in my head . . . the door isn't too far behind me if I just wanna take off . . . or I can just pick up a salt-shaker and chuck it at her head, hope it knocks her out long enough for me to run and for her to forget she ever saw me . . .
"Hellllllo?? Slay-girl! Deaf much?"
. . . or I can just give in to the inevitable
Slumping my shoulders in defeat, I turn my head back to the perfect form of Cordelia Chase and make my way towards the stool next to her
Fuck. I forgot that she was in LA. Next time that I walk into a place, I'll have to put out my 'cheerleader' sense as well as my spidey-sense
And before you ask, yeah, I can detect a cheerleader from a mile away. Call it a hidden talent. Proved to come in handy back in my less love-whipped days
I plop down on the stool next to her and try to avoid the annoyed and surprised that she's giving me. Like, the kinda look that says, 'What are you doing here, and why do you look like a wet rat?' I reach down and grab a menu, making sure to look as unaffected and unreadable as possible as she keeps staring at me
"What are you doing here, and why do you look like a wet cat?" She asks, her eyebrows furrowed at me in that cute, kinda annoyed way that I'd only let her get away with without reacting in some kinda child-like manner
Oh, and wet cat? Bonus. That's definitely a step up from a rat. See? I knew that LA would turn out to be good for me
"Hey, Cor. Nice to see you, too. You lose some weight? You're looking good as ever." I say, artfully dodging her questions as I glance down at the menu. It's gotta work. Cordelia Chase is one of the most vain people in the world. I've baited the trap. Let's see if she bites
She opens her mouth to say something, but then pauses, distracted.
"Actually, I have been trying this new work-out regime. I started doing these squat thrusts for my gluts, and . . ."
I'm vaguely aware that she's still speaking as I shift my gaze from the menu down to her perfectly sculpted ass, which she has actually turned to face toward me
It only takes a second for me to realize that she has actually stopped talking, and that she's now staring down at me over her shoulder with a little self-satisfied smirk on her face
And there is the eye-contact that I was avoiding
Ooh, she's a sneaky one, that Cordelia Chase. She knew exactly what she was doing. Round one goes to her
"I thought that might get your attention." She says, still smirking. She turns back so that she's facing me full-on again, leaning against the counter as she looks over me with a critical eye. "So, you gonna fill me in on your little detour from the Hellmouth?"
I keep quiet, not able to tear my eyes away from her penetrating gaze. She's trying to look inside of me . . . to see if she can find what I'm not telling her
I wonder if she can tell that my heart is broken just from looking into my eyes, cos she suddenly has a little concerned look on her face
Instead of probing me further, she grabs the bag of food that the waitress placed on the counter in front of her and stands up, walking towards the door. She spins around to face me, smiling
"It's your first night in LA. How about I take you for a cheap drink in a dank bar?" She asks
Yeah, I could use a drink. But then I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and realize that I'm looking pretty rough. Just as I turn back to her to refuse her offer, I feel a hand on my leather jacket pulling me up and tugging me towards the door
"Yes, you're welcome, Faith, it WAS nice of me to ask you. And sure you can open the door for me. How chivalrous of you." She says with a grin on her face, giving me a light poke in my side with her elbow to let me know that she was just being silly
I open the door for her, still silent, but liking the distraction from the thoughts that had been swimming throughout my head the whole night
We walked for about two minutes before ending up in a small, dark bar about a block and a half away
I'm lookin pretty rough, but still look better than most of the schleps in this place.
Cordelia pulls back the chair at a table in the corner and sits down, waiting for me to do the same. She looks up at the bartender and holds up two fingers before looking back at me, watching me sit down
"So, what exactly did little miss perfect do to you this time to make you run?" She asks, and before my ass had even settled down on the seat, I was standing up and getting ready to walk out
"Nuh-uh, you sit your ass down!" She orders, and I'll be damned if I don't like her even more for being take-charge gal
I groan as I sit down, knowing fully well that she's gonna make me do a 'share and grow' kinda thing here. Copying her move, I look towards the bartender, holding up four fingers instead this time
Cordy looks down and fumbles through her purse as she sarcastically mumbles under her breath, "Right, because large quantities of alcohol help with depression."
"Hey, I am NOT depressed." I state defiantly.
"And I'm not gorgeous." She answers back, pulling her lip-gloss from her purse and applying a light layer over her lips
I grin. "Hell yeah you are, Queen C."
I know she's gorgeous. She knows she's gorgeous. But something about hearing it from me made her blush a little. It's kinda cute
"That's kinda the point, tough-stuff. I'm gorgeous. You're depressed. This much we can tell just from looking at each other. My question is . . . what was it that Buffy Summers did to depress you so much that you ran away? You told me before that she's the only person that has ever affected you, and, well . . ." she lifts her hand and waves it in my general direction, ". . . you're looking kinda . . . well . . . affected. And sloppy."
I exhale and chuckle at the same time, shaking my head at her bluntness.
"Thanks, Cor." I say, keeping my eyes planted on the table, raising them only for a second to acknowledge the waitress and knock back a shot of whatever Cordy had ordered for us
"You know what I mean." She says, annoyed
I can feel her studying me as I play with the shot-glass in my hands, tapping it lightly on the table and spinning it a bit
After a minute of silence, she finally breaks in again
"She broke your heart, didn't she?"
And I try to think of something to say that's gonna hide the truth or make me look less affected. That will make me look like less of a fool and more like the old Faith that never woulda let herself get into a situation like this. But there's no use in hiding it. Cordy already knows
I nod my head so subtly that I'm not exactly sure if she's able to see it
But the way I hear her exhale the breath that she had been holding in . . . almost as if she was disappointed . . . I'm pretty sure that she saw it
She takes a long, slow sip of her shot, shuddering ever so slightly as it burns across her tongue and down the back of her throat
"And here I was almost starting to think that she'd finally start to see the good thing that was right in front of her face this time." She says quietly, and I can't help but notice that she sounds so disappointed in Buffy . . . like she had really expected us to have a happily ever-after together
"I was hoping she'd come around too, and trust me, I fucking gave her all the time and space that she could ever hope for. Too much, even. And that's how the story ends: I couldn't hang around there and watch the Buffy Show anymore. So here I am." I respond
And now we're both just sittin here, lookin kinda sad
It feels too awkward . . . I don't like to feel pitied, and she is really giving me a little pitty party here with her little sad face and furrowed eyebrows
I can't take it anymore, so I try to change the subject
I grab another shot-glass and hold it up, as if to make a toast
"But hey, no worries, Cor . . . I'm moving on to bigger and better things. New town, new friends . . . new life. Cheers."
I nod my head before bringing the glass to my lips, emptying the contents down my throat without thinking about it
It should burn . . . but I just don't feel it
Just as I swallow the liquid down and put the glass back on the tray, she opens up her mouth to speak, her eyes locked down on the table
"You have to go back." She says matter-of-factly
"Aww, fuck, Cor!" I whine out angrily, slamming my hand down. "There is NO going back . . . don't fuckin say that to me, man, I'm trying to mellow out and move the fuck on here, yeah?"
She lifts her eyes up to mine and speaks gentle words to me
"You can't make it better if you're here in LA." She says, and her voice is completely serious. I've never quite seen her like this before. I think LA has maybe changed her a little.
It's good
But I'm not ready to hear it
"No, there's nothing to make better. The ball was in Buffy's court, and she just let all of her chances slip by. So, I just packed up and moved to a different court, simple as that. I'm NOT going back, and I'm done trying to fix it." I blurt out, antsy in my seat as I feel her gaze on me
My clothes are still damp and clinging to my body, and I'm just getting irritated now
"What happened for it to get this bad . . . for you to run away from the one thing that ever made you want to stay? I know 'coward', Faith, and that's not you. That's Xander, on a good day."
And maybe it's the kinda thing I would share with her some time, cos she's a cool girl and I think that we get along together pretty nicely. But I'm not gonna get into it . . . not right now. I'm damp, I'm getting pissed off, I need a shower, and I have no place to stay. She's not gonna get anything outta me tonight
"Yunno what, Cor? I'm not real keen on the sharey-ness right now. Thanks for the drinks . . . I owe ya one. But I need to find a place to stay and a hot shower." I stand up from the table and pick up my bags, about ready to turn around and walk out when I feel her hand on my shoulder, stopping me from running out
"You'll stay with me. I've got a big cushy couch with lotsa pillows, a huge shower, and a ghost that will scrub your back for you if that's your kinda thing."
I get caught up on the last part of her sentence and don't even realize it as I feel myself get led out of the bar
I could probably fight her on it and find a cheap motel for the night, but honestly . . . . I just wanna shower and sleep. At the moment, I could really care less
After about a 10-minute walk, we finally end up at the door to Cordelia's apartment. She knocks four times and the door comes swinging open. I was just about to comment about not wanting to disrupt her roommates, but then I notice that there's actually no one behind the door
"Bet you thought I was kidding about the ghost, huh?" She says with a grin as we walk in. "Faith, this is Phantom Dennis. Phantom Dennis, Faith the Vampire Slayer."
Confused? Fuck yeah
I unload my bags onto the floor and take a quick glance around before saying, "Umm . . . hey, Denny-boy."
I feel a slight breeze move across my back before I see my bags being mysteriously lifted up and carried into Cordy's bedroom
She scoffs
"Phantom Dennis! That is MY bedroom! Guests stay on the couch! We really need to work on your bellhop skills."
I crack a small smile at the scene, cos . . . come one . . . it's just kinda funny and weird. Cordelia Chase, trying to teach her ghostly roommate some manners
Fucking classic
She groans before turning to me, putting on a friendly smile to hide her annoyance.
"That's the living room and the couch, where I, apparently, will be sleeping. Kitchen is off the living room, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall near my bedroom. There are fresh towels in the closet, so . . . go do your thing. I'm gonna eat some of this high-quality, room temperature diner-food and fight off the bacteria it's collected."
And before I can thank her or say anything, she's making her way to the kitchen with her bag of food
"Thanks." I mumble under my breath before making my way down the long hallway and stepping into the bathroom, closing the door behind me
I peel off my damp clothes and drop them in a pile by the door, standing naked and staring at my reflection in the mirror
I blink my eyes hard and shake my head, pulling myself away from the thoughts of 'you're dirty' and 'you're not good enough' and 'you're such a waste' as I step towards the shower and turn on the water, letting it heat up before stepping in
I let the hot water flow down my back, tilting my head back to dip my hair under the powerful spray. My cold and clammy skin is quickly heating up and turning beat red, getting scorched under the water that I hadn't even realized was on such hot temperature
I reach toward the handles and turn some cool water on as well, letting the temperature even out just a bit.
After a few moments of just letting the water pour over me and refresh my body, I reach for the shampoo bottle and squeeze a dollop into my hand, not even looking down at it until I have it lathering up in my long hair
And then it hits me . . . the scent. Surrounding me, engulfing me, covering my body as the water carries the suds from my hair down towards the drain
It's the same shampoo Buffy uses
I don't want to remember. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to feel . . . I don't want reminders of it all around me. It's too much
I reach back out towards the handles and turn the cool water off, letting the hot water pour out and scald me again
My skin is tingling everywhere, from the top of my scalp down to my toes that are in the pooling water. I grab the bar of soap and feverishly run it all over my body, hoping to wash away the scent of her, the memory of her
I'm pretty sure that I'm crying now, but I can't be bothered to fret about it
I keep scrubbing and washing until the hot water turns warm, and then finally cold
When I find myself shivering against the cold tiles, I know that it's finally time to step outta the shower and forget about it all again
I step out of the tub and grab the soft cotton towel, wrapping it around my body and holding it tight. It's both a blessing and a drawback at the same time. I'm so cold that I need the warmth of it around me, but I've chafed my skin so much from the hot water that each little cotton thread feels like a razor against my skin
But hey . . . if I can't be numb, at least this is the next best thing
After I dry off just a bit, I wrap a second towel around my hair and quietly walk out of the bathroom, hoping to go unnoticed. I look out through the dark kitchen and into the living room, where I only see the dim light of the TV. I'm pretty sure that I'm safe, so I creep into Cordy's room and close the door quietly behind me, kneeling down to get a shirt out of my bag to sleep in
I stand up to put it on and just before I'm about to pull my towel off, I hear a voice behind me
"I heard you crying."
I jump and turn around, surprised to see Cordy sitting on the end of the bed
"Thin walls." She explains
"Ah." I answer, averting her gaze
She leans over and turns on the bedside table and then turns her gaze back to me, and it only takes a moment for her to make that little shocked noise and appear at my side
She's looking over me in a panic, the hot water from the shower having made my skin all beet-red and chafed
"Jesus, Faith." She says as she touches my skin, and I start shivering again. My skin is burning hot, but I'm still freezing from that last few minutes under the cold spray. "We . . . you . . . I need . . . here, get under the blankets." She says as she leads me towards the bed, setting me down gently on the one side
I hiss as I lay down and the sheets scratch against my skin
But even more poignant at that moment was the way I could smell the shampoo on the pillows. Cordelia's shampoo
Buffy's shampoo
And just like that, the tears are falling again. I just can't help it
God, I'm such a weak fucking little baby
Cordy hesitates for a moment, not really knowing what to do. She takes a deep breath before saying,
"Bare with me for a minute here, cos I'm not exactly an expert in Comfort Techniques and the Art of Faith, but . . ."
. . . and just like that, she crawls down next to me on the bed and ever so gently wraps herself around me from behind, careful not to bother my aching skin
"It fucking hurts, Cordy." I say
I'm not sure if I'm talking about my skin or my heart, but I think she gets the picture
And I just hear her sigh sadly before holding me a little closer and saying, "I know."
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