Chapter
14
He paced the darkened basement as if he were a man possessed.
To Andrew he looked like a man possessed. Never had he seen before the
kinds of things he had seen tonight. The conjuring by Johnathan…
the raw naked power displayed by Warren. He was scared, he was past scared…
terrified even. Everything felt as if it was spinning out of control.
He felt dizzy. Like he wanted to stop the ride and dismount. Stop it before
it was too late. Before Warren succeeded.
The thing, the beast… whatever it was that Johnathan had created had been the thing of nightmares. All howling and scowling, craving pain. He had watched as it had appeared before them, it’s limbs as new to it as a fresh born baby. It’s cries just as fierce. Had sat back terrified as Warren had stood before it unfazed. As the beast had fallen to the floor. At the feet of his master.
He didn’t understand what happened after. The new words being chanted by Johnathan, the air as it crackled with an intensity which held them all rigid. Warren and the beast as they had screamed in unison. And then the silence. The waiting.
They had released the monster from it’s binds. Set it free to do Warren’s bidding. The two minions able to do nothing but watch as their leader swayed trance like in the middle of the room, his eyes burning the deepest of blacks. The sounds which seemed to reverberate from the very ether itself. Screams of pain. Screams of terror.
At one point everything had frozen. Stopped dead. Warren with his arms spread wide, a sickening grin of depravity resting upon his lips. They had seen as he started to glow… as if soaking up power, becoming even more stronger then they had already witnessed.
Andrew had almost chosen that moment. If he had of been a hero it would have been the moment. His crazed mentor lost to whatever sensation had overtaken him… unprepared. Unarmed. If Andrew had been a hero he knew he would of taken him then. Ended it then. But he wasn’t and he hadn’t. He had instead watched as Warren seemed to crumple himself… the scream of agony which fell from his mouth a short respite to the manic shouts of approval.
For a second he hoped that it was over. That the power had become too much, had short circuited and destroyed Warren for them. But that hadn’t happened either. He had regained his composure… re-entered his trance. Stood tall and firm. Strong.
Him and Johnathan had both cowered back against the wall when the words left his body. Screaming for the wish demon, screaming for a way out. And then back to them. Here amongst them. Looking for retribution for all that he hadn’t gained. Another plan failed.
“What does it take..? What do I have to do to get a damn thing accomplished around here..?”
Neither of Warren’s minions spoke. Neither of them daring to open their mouths and risk further wrath from the ball of rage in front of them. “Answer me! Andrew?”
“Me?”
“Yes you…” He stalked to a place in front of the blonde boy. Lifted his hand and ran it gently down his face, stopping at his chin, closing his grasp and holding him rigid. “…you who is supposed to be the inside man, you who is supposed to be getting us information… you who is so damn pathetic, and useless… tell me Andrew, why should I let you live?”
“I… uh…”
“Not a very good argument is it?” He dropped his hand and let the boy reclaim use of his head. Watched as he stretched the tendons in his neck.
“I’ll… I can do better?” Andrew hoped his voice wasn’t betraying what his sure his pants were. He was shitting himself. He didn’t think he could do better. There wasn’t anything to be learned from the house on Revello drive other then the fact that it housed a bunch of real nice people. People better them him. People that used what gifts they had for the good of mankind, not for the bad.
“You had better DO better Andrew. When the time comes, and don’t doubt that the time will come, I won’t be supporting hangers on… wastes of space. My world will be for the strong…” He had gone into pose mode again. Pacing the ground with an air of importance, as if he truly believed every word which sprang from his mouth. “…not the weak. Not the defeated.” He stopped in front of Andrew again. Raised his hand and caressed his face again. “Do you want to be in my world Andrew? Do you want to belong?”
Andrew could feel the sweat as it beaded across his forehead. As it slipped down the back of his neck and trailed down his spine. It felt icy cold. Like fear. Of course he wanted to belong, to survive… but like this. As Warren’s tool? He brought his wavering eyes steady with Warren’s, prayed he could still hold his nerve to speak. “I want to belong… I want to do better.”
He collapsed a little as he spoke it. Again allied himself at Warren’s side.
The depraved grin was back on the leaders face, back in his eyes, eating at his soul. He left the blonde one, turned to Johnathan. He had done well tonight, had channelled the magic his master had sent. Channelled it through to Warren, given him the extra power. He observed him now, cowering in the corner, pretending that he didn’t know that Warren’s gaze was falling on him. “Johnathan..? Come here.”
He bumbled from his place, stumbled keeping one foot in front of the other. Inside he had already given up… already accepted that Warren would win and he would probably die. It didn’t seem so important. He didn’t feel so important. Maybe helping Warren achieve the ultimate evil had been his point to life, his reason.
“Yes master?” He had taken to calling Warren that all the time. It kept him placated, lessened the severity with which he spoke to him.
“Excellent work tonight, you did well… you impressed me for once.”
He wanted to cry. Maybe it wasn’t all over? Maybe he would still have a chance to exist in the world that Warren was creating. “Thank you… master.”
He made himself smaller. Smaller then normal. He didn’t know whether to fall to the ground and worship at Warren’s feet. A little bit of him felt like that would be a good idea, but the tiny bit which still begged him to find some self respect wouldn’t let that happen. Made him still feel his back bone even though it was bent nearly double.
He breathed easier as Warren turned from him. The attention gone from him for just a moment. It was hard to guess what would be next, everything seemed to have gone crazy the last couple of weeks… rushing towards something that he never would have expected. Never would have fathomed.
Warren turned again. Spoke to him. “I want the demon. Get her for me Johnathan… call her forth.”
“The demon?”
“The wish demon you fool! The bitch that ruined our plans…”
It was easy for Johnathan to summon her. When Warren had plunged his hands into evil and marked his face with the residue, he had gained power… borrowed power. It had allowed him to beat back the hierarchy that had existed for generations amongst the underworld of the demon. He had only to show them a glimpse of what was coming and they had fled. Had hopped dimension… left this one alone. Rulers like D’Hoffryn had scampered without a fight, happier to save his own skin then to stay and fight for the lives of his charges.
Warren could do as he wished to them now. And he didn’t have to wish for it. He watched as Johnathan performed the chant that would summon the traitorous bitch. Bring her forth for retribution.
She looked shocked as she appeared. Her eyes widening as they took in the basement again. The look on Warren’s face. “You? Again?”
“Yes, me… you owe me a witch.”
“I owe you nothing… I granted the girls wish, that was all I offered you. All that you asked for.”
He let the smile curve slowly along his lips. Taking it’s time to settle there. Looking like it didn’t belong there. “When will you understand? Things have changed demon… I don’t ask you for anything… I tell you. And then you do it.”
Hallie was sick of this. She hadn’t existed for over a thousand years to have her authority challenged by this poor excuse for a human. D’Hoffryn was gone, of that she was aware… new power was coming, but this? This boy was still just a boy. She let a growl emanate low in her chest, let it travel up through her throat, let the features of her face change to show her true form. “YOU do NOT tell me anything boy!”
Her fist travelled fast from her side, her arm raising with the speed befitting a demon, looking to strike, to regain some pride. She saw as he grabbed it, felt as he began to crush it slowly in his own vice like grip.
“You dare to strike me demon..? You think I would let you touch me..? You think my master would let you touch me?”
She couldn’t think through the pain, couldn’t form words of supplication. She let out the slightest sound. It sounded like ‘sorry’.
He released her hand, laughed as she fell to the floor in agony. “You have no power anymore demon, the only power you have is in wishes…” He turned and looked at his two minions, flashed a confident smile. “…and no one here has wishes for you… has anything for you.”
He couldn’t see the looks exchanged behind him. As soon as his eyes had returned to the woman, his followers eyes had sought out each other. Both of them wondering if they were brave enough to break ranks. To kick start a mutiny. For the minute they weren’t. Neither of them.
“Johnathan?”
“Uh yes master…” He scrambled quickly to Warren’s side. Cast a quick glance down at the granter of wishes. “…what do you need?”
“Her… this thing, I want her locked up… kept here, whatever it is you magic types do to keep people trapped… do it.” He reached down and roughly drew the demon back to her feet. “I want her for a pet… my own wish granter, has to be good don’t you think?”
“I can only grant wishes of the scorned…”
“Shut up!” He shook her violently from the place that he held her, reminded her again that he was in charge, that she was nothing. “Believe it or not demon I know that… but then I also know that quite a few people will be looking to scorn me very soon… it’s nice to keep a little secret weapon up the sleeve…”
Halfrek was powerless to do anything other then offer submission. To accept the magical binds which were tightened all around her. If only she had given more warning to Anyanka… had spoken of the basement, of the boy who would be king. But she hadn’t, had instead believed that she would come out of it okay, that D’Hoffryn would return to take care of his… but it hadn’t happened. Not yet. So submission was all that she had.
Warren himself watched with glee as the binds slipped into place around the limbs of the demon. Making her docile. Making her his. He may have failed tonight, but it was getting closer… he could tell. The power within him was growing, the power to affect his own destiny, to work his own will. Soon the witch would be his, and after that Willow.
Tonight, through the eyes of the demon, he had seen how easy she was to tempt. How close she was to falling. He wanted her to fall. Wanted to catch her. Wanted to give her everything she needed to give him the thing that he needed.
If she would embrace the dark magics, carry on the path which she had already stood upon, so close to the edge… then he could use her to wield the power needed to open the portal. To bring his master through the dimensions. From there to here. Past to present.
It excited him like nothing other. Caused the blood to rush faster through his veins, the energy to flow through his system. It enriched him, made him want more. Want everything.
He summoned Andrew to him once more, offered him a sickly smile to soften his nerves. “I need a weakness Andrew, I need something… anything to work with.” The boy nodded his head frantically, almost detaching from his neck, so keen was he to show he could do it. “The slayers, both of them…” He narrowed his eyes, thought through his plans. “…find me a weakness. I want them gone.”
Andrew swallowed his gulp. Tried again to assure with nods. He was scared of the slayers, especially the dark one… Faith. She eyed him suspiciously, made him feel uncomfortable… like he needed to pee. He was sure that there wasn’t a weakness, no dents in their armour that would be easy to observe.
Warren slid his hand over the features of his follower again. Fixed his eyes deep into his. Spoke no words of comfort. “Don’t let me down Andrew, it wouldn’t be good for you. Not very good at all.”
They chilled the boy to the bone. Made him forget every thought of heroism and mutiny. Made him want nothing more then to discover a crack in the foundations. Something that could bring the house of the slayer tumbling down.
He would hunt for weaknesses. He wouldn’t stop until he had found them.
POV Tara
I sat here all night waiting for the morning. Waiting for the sunshine. An end to the darkness. And now as it comes? Now all I can see are the shadows that sit around her eyes. The deepening purple of the bruise on her cheek. It’s not right. She doesn’t look like my Willow. My love.
I reach my hand out softly to try and draw back her hair. I don’t want to wake her, I know she needs the rest. But I want to touch her, I need to touch her. Maybe to make her mine again. To banish the things which would take her away from me.
The beast thing was so damn scary. The first second I was confident stood behind Buffy. Nothing much ever slips past her defences, and yes my heart had raced, but still I felt safe. Just for a second.
And then that had ended. Ended with a fist of concrete delivered to the side of my head. It’s a good job I’m used to that kind of punishment, my skull hardened from the years of living at home. Everything had gone black, swimming through unconsciousness, and then Buffy had been there again. Cradling me, whispering words to bring me back… find me in the darkness. I awoke believing it was over, rescued again. But it wasn’t. The worst was still to come.
The chill when she spoke.
It slipped through any warmth I’d ever known. And nothing has ever scared me more.
I understand why. I know why. The thing, the beast, it was there for me. We don’t know what for, no one ever knows what for, but it was me that it was after. I would do anything to save Willow, she was showing that she would do anything to save me. Even make her self less. Give herself to the nothing.
I can’t bear the thought. If saving me means losing herself, then I have nothing to be saved for. She has to know that. She has to understand that.
The blood that flowed from her nose fell for hours. A steady trickle, no amount of tissues rammed into crevices seeming to stem it. That scared me too. Losing Joyce last year to damage in the brain… that kind of thing makes a girl think. Makes a girl worry. I’m so worried.
I look at her again and I feel the tears starting to flow. So much I want an end to these tears. Not just for me, for everybody. My whole life I always felt so alone, so lost, so useless… these people have become my family, given me everything I ever needed. Seeing them all in so much pain is killing me. I want to make it all better. Want to make it all stop.
The bruise looks so livid against the paleness of her skin. Always pale but this morning even more so. Like a porcelain doll just laying there, ready to be broken. If she had received it in any other way I would already be hunting the perpetrator down, looking for retribution for damaging something so special… but instead I offered thanks. Not enough thanks for what Faith did.
If I hadn’t already warmed to her so much then this would have sealed it. Her mind so far ahead of the rest of us, seizing the moment, saving Willow.
And then saving me.
I guess that makes her my hero. I’ll have to tell her, make her laugh. Make her smile.
The little groan that makes it’s way from Willow’s lips draws my eyes back to her. My hand back to her. Her eyelids flutter open and I can see already the pain that she is in. I go to speak, to ask pointless questions. “Baby..? Are you ok?”
“Tara?” Her gaze fixes slowly on mine, the grogginess plain to see. As her vision clears her eyes grow wider, panic showing. “Oh god… I’m gonna be sick…”
She jumps from the bed, before I can stop her. Before I can tell her to take it easy. I follow after her of course, ready to hold back her hair and whisper that it’s ok. That I’ve got her.
I hear her retching as I come through the door, watch her slide to a place on the floor, rest her sweat beaded head against the coolness of the toilet bowl. I go to her and take the place beside her, slip my hand into hers, offer a soft squeeze. I just want her to know that I’m here.
As she starts to talk her voice is harsh from the vomiting. Harsh on herself with the words she feels she has to say.
“I’m so sorry Tara… I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to… but I was scared, so scared baby…”
“Shhhh.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and press my lips softly to the side of her head. I feel her wince as if it hurts. Kiss her softer still. “It’s ok, I know what happened… I know why it happened.”
She looks at me hopeful, tears falling softly from the sides of her eyes. “Do you mean it? You won’t leave me again… please?”
Oh goddess she breaks my heart. “No Willow, I won’t leave you. I promise.”
I let my arms glide around her torso, hold her as firmly as I dare. Deep inside I feel the need to hold on and never let go. I feel my love coated in gloom, like this is the beginning, not the end, of what is coming.
The demon said so. She said that something was coming. And she was scared.
I open my arms as I feel her tensing, draw back and hold her hair as she empties more of her stomach into the toilet bowl. It smells putrid, worse then anything she would ever of eaten. Worse then bile.
I take a look, shudder on the inside as I see the colour. Just black. The darkest of blacks. Her body trying to dispel the evil that she had let back in. The dark magic.
If I could make a wish with that demon it would be that she had never even touched the darkness. Had never been shown the things which are best left alone. But then… then we wouldn’t have Buffy back. And how could I ever wish for that?
“Tara… could you get me some water?” The whisper croaks out from her parched lips, and already I’m running the tap, trying to give her whatever she needs. I watch her sip it slowly, the little wince every time that she swallows.
I want to know who did this to her. Who did this to us.
Buffy’s right. This isn’t pranks anymore. This is dangerous. This is life and death.
I watch Willow as she starts to rise, offer her my arm and lead her back to her room. To our room. I won’t be leaving her side again, this is where I belong.
She slips back between the sheets and I do my best at tucking her in. Ask if she needs anything, can she try and eat? Would that be okay? I knew she would shake her head. Didn’t know what she would say.
“Can you just hold me baby? I just need you to hold me.”
Of course I will. I make room in the sheets for two, sit back against the headrest and let her fall into my arms. I could hold her forever. If she needs me to.
“I’m so tired Tara, will you tell me a story…”
A story? I smile at the top of her head. My innocent little Willow. I try and remember all the little nonsense things which I know make her smile, all the tales we had spun since the beginning of us. All of our things. I tell her the one about the pelican who didn’t like to eat fish. He made friends with them instead and gave them all lessons in flying. At the end he developed a taste for frogs. Ate them all.
She likes that one. I let it pull her down to sleep. Her breathing becoming steadier with each word I speak. Each tale I tell. I carry on even when I know she’s asleep. Can’t hear me anymore. I carry on because I need to. Need to stay with her.
I drifted off too. More tired then I knew. Woken up by her
shaking, the flailing of limbs. Cries of terror. “Tara… no…
TARA!!”
I shook her awake, not worried about gentle, more worried about making her safe. “Willow, sweetie… come on, it’s okay, I’m here… come on.”
She was covered in sweat again. Needing to vomit again. I had missed out on all of this the last time, the effects of the dark stuff. Had made myself leave because I believed that she needed it. Tough love the only thing I knew which might stop her. Now I was here though and I held her close, let her push me away when it became too much. I cried with her when she cried, felt all the same fears as her. In the moments that she felt better we talked it all out.
The beast and the magic. I made her promise no more. No matter what. I impressed on her that there was no point in saving me if my Willow wouldn’t be here waiting for me. I would rather take my chances with beasts then see her fall to the darkness. I couldn’t live through that. It would destroy us both.
She gave me her word as best she could. It’s hard to make promises when your body is still dispelling the magic which you had already before promised yourself away from. I wanted to believe her though, I wanted to believe in her, she needed me to.
I had stayed until she fell into rest less fitful, no more cries of terror, just light easy breathing. Downstairs when I got there was all ready cleaned up, nothing left to acknowledge that again our home had been breached by evil. I was sick of it. Why couldn’t things just leave us alone? Let us get on with it.
Buffy was at work already. I don’t know how she does it. Even through all that she is dealing with, all the lack of living in the moment, she still faces her responsibilities as best she can. Never stopping with the slaying, never stopping with the work. You had to admire that. It wasn’t everything but it was something.
Cordy came by again. Staying with Dawn, showing her all the best ways of applying makeup. It kept the tone of the house light, hiding the things that we all knew were happening. I appreciated it, revelled in it. Prayed that Willow would sleep on so as I could lose myself to the guise a little longer.
The doorbell brought surprise and tentative approaches. I know monsters don’t knock for entry, but I was still wary. Still cautious as I made my way there, exchanging little glances with Cordy, both of us waiting on attack.
I breathed my gratitude in a sigh of relief when the door opened up on Andrew. He was the least dangerous thing I think I had ever seen. He always looked nervous, always kind of scared. It was kinda cute. For a boy.
I had smiled him a hello and ushered him inside, laughed at Dawn’s eyes as he stepped forward to offer her makeup tips too. I could imagine him in a salon, fixing up nails. I really don’t think he ever had a crush on Willow. I mean… really.
We offered him snippets of our time locked in the house, his face changing rapidly as we told him about the monster, the pain it inflicted, the damage it caused. We didn’t dwell so much on Willow… he isn’t enough of a friend to know that much of our business. But he still seemed concerned. Frightened for us.
It’s a shame that he can’t help, he seems like he would like to. But what’s one more boy against the things that we face?
We sat around till tea time, each of us adding something to Dawn’s beauty. Andrew painting the nails as I guessed, Cordy trying different things across her face, and me teasing different styles into her newly cut hair. It was a distraction, and until darkness fell it had worked. With the darkness though came back the fear. The memories.
I had to go back to her. Reassure myself that she was still sleeping safely.
I brought her some soup. I knew she wouldn’t want to eat it, but I would make her. She needs to keep her strength up. We all do.
POV Faith
I never thought that I would wake up and face this day smiling. In fact, falling into bed last night I kinda wondered if I’d bother waking up at all. What a fucking mess right? All of it. Not just even the me and B shit, which is bad enough… but all the other shit? The nasty shit? It’s got me feeling antsy. Far too close to scared.
And yet I woke up smiling.
It makes me smile thinking about the smiles. Which makes me smile more. Which leaves me sitting here grinning like a fucking idiot. A dope.
One god damn kiss. One tiniest moment of pressure, lips against lips. You want me to tell you how it was a second that lasted a lifetime? A reel of film wrapped on replay, spinning over and over, through every breath, every murmur. Every sound of acceptance. Cos I could. I could tell you it’s the thing I remember the most about the ‘party’. The touch that’s lasted the longest. Maybe the deepest of my bruises?
A mistake.
So why the fuck can’t I stop smiling?
Even memories of her drawing back from me. Of her head shaking and pushing me away. It’s not enough. Nothing could be enough to stop this feeling. It’s a crazy feeling. I’ve never had it before… never had a kiss that lasted longer then the flesh touching flesh, meant anything more then a need to be filled. To be fucked. Kissing Buffy has given me a need alright, but fucked ain’t up there at the top. It’s maybe kinda second. But not top.
I dissected her words like I knew that I would, each one a sound bite to be digested and worked through… but in the end I got it. I understood why she would say one thing which contradicted everything else she had shown me in the minutes before. She’s fucking scared. Fucking terrified. Not of me because I’m bad… but of me because I might be good. Good for her.
I remember the time when I first realised I might be good. Angel’s arms had been telling me it, his voice whispering through my cracks to tell me it… but I didn’t realise it until up on that roof. On top of the world, stood there with her.
The moment when I pleaded a way to make it all better. An instant of eye contact before the badness came back. And that was the instance that I first knew… when I looked into her eyes and realised that I really did want to make things better. It wasn’t just words. Another way out.
The realisation scared me so much that I threw myself into fucking prison. Locked myself in Juvie and waited on the madness. I couldn’t be good. Look at me? I was so damn bad.
But my fears were all true. I did have it in me. Angel was right. I was wrong. Again.
So I get that she’s scared now. Of me and the possibilities. I get that she locks herself away from me behind walls of steel. I did the same. Only mine had bars.
Time will show her that I am what I say I am. No more bullshit. No more lies.
Tonight is creeping closer with every beat of my heart and all I know is that I’ll be there at 11. I’ll probably be there at 10. I draw the line at 9.
And I’ll keep being there until she can look at me and see the truth, not just feel it and then back away. But see it. See me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m too fucking ecstatic that she said she feels it. Admitted that she feels it… but what use is that if she can turn away from it so easily? I need her to know that I’m safe. That I won’t hurt her with the feeling.
So there’s a new plan right? Yeah. Not that I ever had a plan. I kinda long for them days just a few weeks old… the ones where I thought I could come here and not be affected by her. That makes me smile too. I already said that I’m a dope. But now I do have a plan… a strategy maybe? I never learnt the difference.
I’m gonna hobble my sweet little ass over there this evening and I’m gonna show her every fucking reason that she should give me this chance. I’m gonna tell her too. Not with shouting, with losses of clarity… no, I’m gonna be calm. Confident. Lay it out the only way left. With openness and honesty.
Still fucking smiling.
Openness and honesty were never great friends of mine. Not really even acquaintances, but I swear I’m gonna be hanging out with them tonight. It’s all I can think of, my only chance.
Maybe it will provoke some of the same in her…
I can dream right? I spent the whole fucking night and half of today dreaming about my half kiss, so I KNOW I can dream. And how about dreams coming true? Can I do that too? I should’ve wished for it… not fucking secrets and shit.
I’m scared of her secrets, she’s scared of me. And it just won’t work unless I push it aside. Deny the fear and get with the good stuff. It’s like I said… there’s nothing so bad that could ever turn me from her. Nothing.
I’ll tell her that again too. Let her know that I’m willing, if she is, to share secrets.
I know she won’t be as willing as I want, but still I’ll tell her. I want to insist. I wanna take that feeling that I get when we’re close and hold her steady until she gives in to it. Lets it assure her as much as it assures me. But I know that’s the wrong way to go… know that forcing anything from her is the wrong way to go.
So I’ll sit back. I’ll offer her my words, my explanations. And I hope that it will start to be enough. I think it will be. I really think it will be.
It has to be. That kiss has me smiling too much to piss me off today. Please?
When the light outside had started to dim I had started to get myself ready. Not in camouflage or any of that shit… just me. A small slice of leather and the softness of curves… the limp from the purple knee is detracting from the sexy strut… but I can still swing it. Make it work for me. I’m nervous as hell. You know I am… but more then that? More then that I’m excited. It feels right.
Everything is going wrong. Demons and monsters and all sorts of bad shit… but this just feels right. Like I’m heading in the right direction. Meeting my destiny?
Yeah. I’m still thinking the stupid thoughts. But I can’t help it… it’s the memory of the moment of the kiss. Of her forehead resting against mine, her breaths falling in sync with me, her nose as I’d brushed my own against it, so softly, a gentle tease… the way her head slid to accommodate the touch. The way her lips were soft and yielding… the slip of saliva making them wet against mine. God. It feels so fucking right.
Probably means it’s doomed.
I try and cling to the feeling of rejection. The way the blood had slammed through my body demanding action. Demanding that I take everything I need. Everything I want. The destructive voice in my head urging the same. I try and remember it all and let it steel me for more of the same. More of her rejection.
But all I can remember is the way my heart beat for that moment. Like it never had before. Like it had found it’s whole reason for beating. For giving me life.
I am a fucking wuss. Don’t need tears to prove it. My thoughts are sappy enough.
All day I’ve tried to distract it with thoughts and plans for big bads and demons… but it’s fruitless. Pointless. Whatever that shit is I know we’ll handle it… it’s the way things work out. Good beats evil. Evil goes home.
The churning it gave me in my gut last night is gone. Silenced by the butterflies of the minute. Wings flapping hard to make me unsettled. Makes me wonder how I’d feel if it really was a date. If her slip of the tongue wasn’t a slip, but the truth of what she wants. What she feels. I wanna cross my fingers. Hell, I’d cross all of my limbs if my knee wasn’t fucked.
The hours drawing nearer still and all I can do is sit and wait. Count the seconds.
I never wanted hope. I never wanted this.
If I believe that then I’m a liar and a coward. This is all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever hoped for. And tonight?
I look up at the clock again. Pull myself from the sofa and test out my knee. It takes my weight okay. It hurts in so many ways, but it will carry me. It will get me to her.
Cos tonight is the start of it. The start of everything. I’m gonna be open, and I’m gonna be honest. It’s the best I can offer her now, everything I can offer her.
I’m gonna put the ball in her court and trust in the feeling. I’m gonna put my trust in her. The place I should’ve put it in the beginning.
I try and take it slow as I leave my place, try and stop the skip from damaging my knee any more… but it’s a hard feeling to fight. Yeah, it feels like a date. Just a little tiny date with destiny.
Chapter 15
POV Faith
Is there a word for nervous that makes it sound more? A word which even begins to come close to all these messed up things that I’m feeling? My palms are sweaty. My guts are on a spin cycle. And my mind is fast closing in on a melt down. I paint a beautiful picture. Every girls ideal ‘date’. Not that this is a date… it’s patrolling. Just me and B walking the same old walk. Not a fucking clue what we’re gonna talk about.
That’s the scary thing. Wait, that’s one of the scary things. Not having a clue what to say. I want to be open and honest and all the things I spent the day telling myself about being… but how the fuck do I accomplish that when I’m not even sure how I’m gonna say hello?
I’ve been through: Hey B. To: Hello Buffy. It’s a mighty fine evening, wanna go stake some dead things. And finally to:
Yeah. The silent option. The staring dumbfounded at her face as I wait for her to make the first move. None of them seem to capture the mood though, but then maybe I’d have to throw up at her feet for her to catch how screwed up I’m feeling. It’s a possible option.
Then I could tell her how many cracks there are in the brickwork outside of her workplace, how many gaps in the sidewalk, how many smears on the pane glass of the windows. That would surely remind her that I’m sane now. I’m just insanely nervous. I’ve been standing here counting the monotonous because it was easier then standing here and counting the seconds. Easier then trying to wonder about the things that she might be wondering about.
About her secrets.
I don’t have a watch, never have had a watch. I’ve got that inner clock thing. It tells me when it’s early and it tells me when I’m late. At the moment it’s telling me that I’ve waited long enough, that the time it took to hobble here paired with the time it took to count the bricks is enough… that it’s the dating hour.
And I’ve really gotta get that damn ‘date’ word out of my head. Not my fault though. It wasn’t me that said it.
I know she’s coming before I see her. Her scent being carried across the air… all mixed in with the smell of the putrid offal. It builds the anticipation in me. I try to smile… it feels like a grimace. I try and relax and my shoulders hurt with the tension. And then I see her. And I do smile. I can’t do anything else.
She’s approaching me with a perky frown on her face. Yeah, I know… perky frown? Only she can do it. Can make looking pissed off such a favourable expression. I run my phrase book through my head, every step closer and I’m considering a different hello, a different welcome. She beats me to it. “I know, I know… I‘m late. Was you waiting long?”
What to say? Honesty and openness? “Not so long B, pretty much just got here… I thought I was the late one.” And I watch as that perky frown turns to perked amusement.
“Funny, I thought I saw a girl just like you hobbling around outside about an hour ago. I thought to self… gee, Faith’s pretty keen with the early… now though?” Her eyebrows twitch and even I’m proper smiling. “Now I’m thinking I was wrong, that I don’t have to worry about the apologies for being late.”
Apologies? Shit, don’t even fucking go there. I’d never take an apology from her. I have no right to. I owe her too many. “It’s cool B… not me. Although hot and hobbling? I see why you might have got confused.” I’m lying, she knows I’m lying, and we’re both still smiling. I should definitely reconsider honest.
She hands me a brown paper food bag, tells me she guessed I might be hungry, what with the waiting around. And she winks. And there’s no way I’m eating anything with the state that my stomach is in. I REALLY don’t wanna throw up at her feet. Things are going well. And the smell from the bag is pretty much enough to have me wondering how I ever used to eat this shit.
There was a time I survived on it. But then that was back in the days when I only knew how to survive. I’m trying the whole living thing now… means much better food.
I let her down gently though, I am grateful for the thought, shocked that she thought of me at all really. So I don’t slam dunk it into the nearest trashcan, I rub my tummy and assure her that I’m full from earlier… I just got here after all, and you know I ate before I left.
She’s watching me as I’m sliding it gently in with the rubbish, and now she’s watching as I make my way back. “How’s the knee, looks like you’re limping a little?”
“Doesn’t hurt too much… a bit stiff, reluctant to walk for me, but you know, I can deal.” In truth I had started to forget it, lost myself in sensations so much nicer then pain. I remember it’s nice to swap concern, gesture towards the shoulder that’s damaged. Try not to remember how it felt under the tips of my finger. The softness of the base of her neck. “What about you B? You healing up nicely?”
“Like I said, just a scratch.” Her voice sounds a little like it’s forcing chipper, and I can imagine that the nasty slash is still causing her some ouches. I don’t say anything though. I’m used to hiding the pain, I guess she is too.
I let her take the lead, let her set the pace. She keeps it slow and I know that she knows that the knee IS still hurting. It makes me smile for no reason. Maybe because it feels like she cares, or maybe it’s just because I know that she gets it. Hiding pain doesn’t stop it from hurting none. And it is starting to hurt like a bitch.
These boots weren’t made for walking. It’s official.
I look down at the heavy steel capped numbers I’m wearing and I wanna smack myself for being an idiot. It’s all well and good knowing that the steel is great for smashing the faces of evil… it helps if you can swing your leg at all though, and I know that my leg isn’t swinging anywhere in these. I should of worn sneakers.
We make our way slow and steady through the first cemetery, not really chatting, both pretending that the silence is good for the hunt. It’s a stupid thing to hide behind. As if vampires are scared off by noise. The sight of two hot chicks like us and the dead fuckers will surely salivate… won’t matter a shit if we’re talking or not. But for the moment it’s ok. It’s just ok being here. With her.
But no vampires ARE biting. Or sniffing. Or doing much of anything.
I wonder how long to leave it. How long to maybe ask B if she hasn’t finished off all of the evil in this town and maybe we should just call it quits. Declare the hellmouth closed for business. But I am still leaving it. Contentedly letting my step sit happy with hers, nice and slow. Wherever it takes us.
It takes us through two more empty cemetery’s. Not a sign of anything unusual, which in it’s self is as unusual as fuck. This is Sunnydale for gods sake! I can’t take it no more, I look to B and ask. “Where the hell is all the evil B? I swear… I sweep on my own and there’s all sorts of nasty shit, I patrol with you and not a sniff of action…” I give her a look as confused as I’m feeling. “…what gives?”
“Perks of the job Faith.”
Huh? Make that doubly confused. “The job? The slaying..?”
She shakes her head, spreads her arms out. “The aroma of the double meat palace… repels all evil or your money back.”
I look at her like maybe she’s kidding. See that she’s not. “You mean it? That smell keeps the vamps at bay?” I thought it was garlic that did that shit. Although, to be fair… she stinks up a treat. It’s not high on the list of appetising. Not if you’re evil.
“Seriously. At first I was offended, now I like the peace and quiet…”
She trails off as the biggest stupidest looking vamp I’ve seen in ages plants itself right in our path. “You were saying B?”
“Ok, sometimes it’s not so effective…”
“I guess you should ask for your money back.”
I keep one eye on her and await her reply, the other on the thing which wants to make us dinner. I know there’s no chance, but I’m thinking about the leg. About the shoulder. It may need both of us, I wanna be on the ball. Ready to back her up.
It seems the vamp doesn’t have the manners to wait on Buffy’s answer, already he’s lumbering towards us and I’m just waiting to see which way he attacks. Let myself slide back as it’s me that he turns to.
“I told ya Faith, none of them want to bite me no more…”
I tune out her words as the vamp throws out it’s fists. They look like two sledgehammers. With digits and stuff. She’s still babbling and I’m still not listening… he’s passing me punches and I’m catching each one. It’s barely even a work out. A big old softie. Or a newbie. Soon to be a no more-ie?
From the corner of my eye I see her slip herself up onto a gravestone. She’s twirling a stake in her hand, watching more amused then worried, not a hint of concern anywhere about her.
Makes me smile into my attacks.
In the old days, in my unrestrained days, she always looked concerned. Wouldn’t matter what I was slaying, if we were fighting at each others sides or not… she always looked worried. Like she didn’t trust me to get the job done. I take her amusement as some kind of acceptance. Acknowledgement that she knows I’m ok.
Or maybe she just wants me to get eaten?
The thought makes me throw my glance back to her, just for a second, just to judge one way or the other. I take my eyes from the fight, my attention away from my opponent. And I feel as the fucker whacks me square across my jaw.
“Jesus fuck!” It’s all that falls out before he lands another. Just the side of the eye this time. Just enough to get me fucking pissed off. I shake my head steady on the top of my shoulders and give him a long list of old Boston curses. My mom would be proud.
He’s not looking impressed though. I duck low as he swings another, concentrate my thoughts on seeing the opening, the clearing for some dusting. I come back up and catch him hard in the chest, my fist relishing the feel of ribs crunching against ribs, of his howl of both anger and pain.
He just looks confused now and I know his dead skull is trying to work out how I hit him so hard. I don’t waste time before I hit him again, convey the word ‘slayer’ not with my mouth but with my flurry of punches. He has to know that he’s beat. It’s just a case of when I wanna stake him. How long I let his non-existence last.
I wanna throw in a wise crack, show Buffy that I still got the moves with my tongue, it’s not just about the muscle, but even this fleeting thought of her is enough to get my head turning, my eyes seeking out the only thing that they covet. Still on the tombstone, eyes firmly fixed on me.
Again I seek to smile, to let her know how good her eyes on my feel.
Her lack of return smile registers just before my scream. Just before the sickening feel of my knee taking 300 lbs of solid meat crashed against it. I fall to the floor and I don’t even care about dead things, and alive things and anything at all. It hurts and I’m damn close to crying.
“Faith!”
That does it. I turn my body to face the sound of salvation, feel the rush of air as the vamps foot smacks hard against the place from where I just moved my head. “Good call B…”
And yeah I mean it.
She doesn’t waste time accepting my gratitude. She’s already swinging the beast round to face her, reminding the undead that there’s two slayers in town. I raise myself up on my elbows, watching in fascination as her body lets itself free.
It’s poetry. Pure fucking poetry. Not like watching her get tossed by the thing the other night, watching her take hits that send her flying… no. This is watching her at her best… the speed of my vision keeping track of every one of her moves. Feeling that old hum… the beauty of the knowledge of knowing where she’s going. What she’s doing. I see it all. And damn right I fucking feel it.
My muscles are itching to fall into synchronicity, even my wasted leg letting me know that it wants to telegraph moves with her. Wants to let itself go to get lost in that bond. It hurts passed the pain to have to sit and play voyeur. To have to offer the slow impressed clap that my hands are seeking to offer as she bursts it into dust.
“Nice show B, you’ve been practicing ain’t ya?” I wiggle my eyebrows without even meaning to, like silent traitors to my every fleeting thought. I wanna pin them into place, want to say words without hidden meaning.
Her turn is slow, her breathing slightly deep. “It’s a good job too…” She paces her way over to me and extends out her hand. “…I thought you were coming along to look after me?”
My chuckle breaks the silence that holding her hand makes me feel. “I never said that, I just figured with the shoulder that you might need…”
She’s lifting me up with the arm attached to that shoulder now. The smile on those lips growing bigger by the second. “The shoulders not so bad Faith, now how about the knee?”
Fucked.
I stumble a little as her arm seeks to steady me. I don’t mean to lean on her, I just… for a second, my knee… I just. I swallow a grunt as I try to push it back to the floor, try to let my weight distribute itself across my aching joints. And it’s useless. My knee just doesn’t wanna take it. It’s had enough. I kinda don’t blame it.
I whimper a little as I raise it again. It makes her speak my name. Lets me slip the cover from my eyes and show her just how much the damn thing is hurting.
“Come on, let’s get you over there.”
Over where? I don’t ask. She’s sliding my arm around her shoulder and letting me put most of my weight onto her. Her other arm is sliding across my back, holding me steady to her, against her. And I don’t care where the fuck she takes me. I’m happy to go there.
The gravestone that was home to her ass just a minute ago is now gonna be home to mine. We stop in front of it, not quite sure of the dynamics in getting me up there. I won’t play the fucking damsel in distress though, it’s nice to feel her next to me but I won’t play dead for no one.
I take the seconds agony just to be able to pull myself up. Sigh in absolute displeasure once I finally come to rest. “Have I ever mentioned I hate this shit?” She laughs so I narrow my gaze. “No bullshit B, I’m getting too old for this…”
“You’re getting too old?” She carries right on with the giggles. “You do remember how long I’ve been doing this right?”
Of course I do. As if I’d forget anything. “I know the story B…” I motion pretty pathetically to my useless lump of leg. “…as I’m the one feeling the pain though I think it’s only right that I get to bitch.”
She nods sagely and it’s nice to be in agreement. “Although if you hadn’t let yourself get distracted…”
“Hey! No fair!” Her eyes are dancing with mischief but it still hurts a little. I search for insults from her, makes it easy to find them. “I wasn’t distracted, I was…”
Ok. Now I’m brain dead. I was what?
“Cool it miss sensitive…” Me? Sensitive? I feel her hand as it touches my leg and ‘cooling it’ is miles from the equation. “…can I pull up your pant leg? Get a look at the damage?”
The insult that never was is easy to let go off. I’m just left trying to hold onto some dignity. Her fingers are light as they tease up the seam, getting bolder as they seek to find flesh under material. I try not to gasp, try not to breathe. I do both. Heavy.
“Is that ok? Am I hurting you?” God her voice sounds serene. I know it should calm me, should make my heart steady, but it’s doing the opposite. Hearing that worry… that caring in her tone. Do I have to mention marshmallows again?
“S’ok B, I can take it.” And I do steady myself again. Switch my thoughts to anything except the feel of her hands on my flesh. Her skin on my skin. Don’t pay heed to the feather light touches that she’s gliding across the offending area, don’t listen to the heavy concern which makes her words weigh like boulders on my ears.
As she touches my knee cap I really do forget. I hiss and screw my eyes shut, let another of those whimpers creep past my lips. “Jeez that hurts.”
“I get that…” She stops prodding and I let my eyes open. See the picture of concern that she has become. “…I think patrol might be over.”
“No shit? I was thinking we could head out to Restfield…” I whelp as she slaps her hand down on my leg. Try and keep the angry frown from crossing my features.
“Oh shit…” She’s looking at her hand, looking at my leg. “…I didn’t mean, I forgot…”
“And you bitched at me for getting distracted.” I pick up her arm with my hand, make a pointed gesture of taking it far away from my knee. And no, I’m not stupid. I don’t want her to think that I don’t want her touching me. I slip her hand onto the other knee, this time let my eyebrows out to play on purpose. “How about you rest it there B? You can squeeze away at that one all you want.”
The darkness isn’t enough to save her blushes, but then it never was. I’m not surprised as she moves her hand. It’s funny to watch her work out where to put it, finally letting it fall to her side. Kind of rigid. Kind of like she’s working at keeping control.
I know the feeling well.
For the second that it feels like awkward silence might descend I worry again at all to say. Where to start. And again it’s her that pulls the first words from her mouth. “Can you walk home on the leg? Cos we can always call Xander… he won’t mind bringing the car round…”
“Nah. It’s cool… just give me a minute yeah.” I stretch out my leg to prove that I can and smile my hardest through the wincing. “I’ll be great in a minute. Good as new.”
She doesn’t look convinced but it doesn’t really matter. I’ll crawl at her side if I have to. I slide my way along the gravestone and make room for her to sit. It seems only fair that she gets a seat too. She’s got a sore shoulder, remember?
And it’s comfortable silence now. In a moment I’ll start to speak, but for this second I can wait. Just happy to be sat with her. Yeah. On a gravestone in the middle of the cemetery. It makes me laugh just a touch. Makes her question my motives.
“I was just thinking how nice it is B.”
“How nice what is?” And she genuinely does look all sorts of interested. So I keep to my track of honest and open.
“This… just being here, with you… and none of the aggro.” She’s looking at me and not away. Listening to me. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah. You know Faith?” I shake my head. I don’t know. “It really is nice. The no aggro… just being here.”
They weren’t words shouted out loud, they barely made it past her lips. But to me? I felt them as if she had hollered them. And I’m smiling again. “I did tell you, work on less hostile and we can find the fun.”
“Hey…” She knocks her shoulder into mine, I guess it really doesn’t hurt so bad. “…I said it was nice, I never mentioned any fun!”
I try my best at keeping the talk light and free. Nothing that will weigh us down in a moment when everything feels so easy. Of course it happens though. My words leading us to places that I wanted to get to. Even if it hurts a little, I wanted us to get here. To get to say words that mean something.
She’s telling me more about coming back. Her eyes far away and haunted as she talks of being dead. I don’t want graphics, but I can’t help but feel her as she throws in a comment about digging her way from the grave.
I remember laughing. I remember taking a small piece of pleasure from guessing at her pain. But now? Now it hurts me just to imagine. Being in the ground. It’s fucked up. It’s the place that the fucking vamps come from, not the slayer.
I wanna ask if it’s different. If she still feels like her… underneath all the crap. I wait till her voice has paused in it’s monotone. Until the air has stopped echoing with the distress of her tale. Her eyes burn into me as the words leave my mouth, showing sadness. A whole freaking show of sadness.
“Yeah… sure, I still feel like me.” She leans back and takes a big old breath in. Blows it back out as a sigh. “I have the same life, how could I feel any different?” I shrug my shoulders, I don’t know. “But… heck, there’s things, emotions… things which used to make me happy and now can’t make me smile… things like that make me wonder too…” I smile just a touch and offer a nod. I want her to keep talking. This is what I want. I want to be let in. “…I always felt alone before Faith, as the slayer… apart from everyone… but now it’s just worse. I feel truly alone. Not just as the slayer… as me. Buffy… I just feel alone.”
And I join her sigh with a chorus of my own. I wanna bite my tongue, don’t want to provoke a moment that isn’t close… but damn it. Her words are wrong. And I have to tell her.
“That’s crap.”
“You what?”
“I said it’s crap… don’t get me wrong, I read the handbook too…”
“You read the handbook? The ‘slayer’ handbook?”
“Sure, and that’s just it…” I’m nodding my head and looking to find my point. “…I read that stupid thing from cover to cover…”
“Why does everyone get the handbook except me?”
“You didn’t get it?” Well that’s messed up. I thought she was text book girl, and it turns out she never even read the text? Her head is shaking confirming her point. It doesn’t change mine. “That’s not important B, you know the story…” I run it through my head. “…‘one girl, blah blah, evil evil, all alone’” I pause for a second. “That is the same story right?”
“Yes, nice focus on the alone part Faith.”
I grin some sarcasm. It’s easy to feel the shift in the air. As she moves from comfortable, to waiting on attack. “You’re the one with the screwed up focus.”
Her eyes are narrowing. “You want to explain that?”
I sure as hell do. I always wanted to explain this one. “It’s just you B… do you not get it?” I watch her shake her head. “Every single time… every single fucking time that I hear you say those words, that you say that you’re alone…” I try and push confrontation from my tone. Let my true feelings rest there. Appeal to her with truth in my eyes. “…it feels like you’re denying me, denying who I am, what I am…”
“Denying you..?” Her brows got knitted into confused again and I work to explain it out.
“Buffy, god… when I was called, that first minute… it’s like I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew I shared my power… I just didn’t know where. And then coming here… seeing you?” I look at her again, still open. Still honest. “It’s like I got it straight away.”
I sigh my way through a montage of memories. “My whole fucked up life I felt alone B… as a kid, growing up, alone was all I ever knew… the minute I found you was the minute that stopped.” I swallow the lump that wants to sit in my throat. “So hearing you say that you’re all alone? It pisses me off. It hurts me.”
I sit back and wait on the backlash. It comes, but it doesn’t sting. It’s less then I expected. Nothing like I expected. “But you’re the one that left me Faith… you were the one that turned ‘this’…” She’s motioning between the two of us as if I need her to point out what ‘this’ is. “…into something else. You know what I thought of you Faith… don’t make out like I was the one that denied you.”
I want my knee to work. I wanna jump down from here and gesticulate and shout and use my hands to throw my frustration around the damn cemetery. I was the one that denied her? As it is I turn as much as I can, don’t care that this close proximity is enough to have me almost grazing noses with her again. This isn’t about that. Not this bit. “Don’t bullshit yourself B, you were stuck in denial from the second I got here… ‘this is my life, my town’… it was all you ever offered me.”
Her knee does work and she does jump down. Does gesticulate and bring the hands into play. “No way! I admit… maybe at the beginning, I was… ‘frosty’, maybe… but at the end Faith?” I wonder if she means the end with the knife. “I wanted nothing more then you at my side, to share things with you… it was you who went evil…”
“Well it was you that fucking pushed me there!” She just stands and glares. I wanna pull the words back, but hell. We’re big girls now. We can deal with the truths.
“I never pushed you, I wanted to help you… we all wanted to help you!”
“You wanted to feed me to Angel.”
I know we’re dealing in different time zones… but it hurts. It always hurt. My tone must have placated some of her anger, maybe it was my words. Whatever it is she’s stopped throwing her hands around, has brought them up to her head. For a second she covers her eyes and I wonder if I haven’t gone too far… haven’t taken this moment just a moment too far. When she pulls away her hands and holds my gaze firm, then I feel as if she is beseeching me to believe.
“I never wanted to feed you to Angel…”
“Yes. You did.” I remember. I remember the hate that she hit me with that night. The all out war. Me pushing, daring her to play the game my way. I never would have stabbed her in the guts and fed her to a vamp though. I was evil as shit but I never would have done that.
I pull my mind back from the path it’s fallen upon. It’s not right for me to sit and judge… to question the actions I forced her into. I open my mouth to take it back… to say it’s ok.
“No Faith, wait…” I meet her eyes and they’re still beseeching. “…you’re right, don’t think that I don’t know that. I was wrong, I handled everything wrong…”
I wanna hold up my hand and stop her but I’m too busy keeping my mouth from hanging open to manage it. Are these words really hers?
“…everything was happening so fast, I couldn’t believe you were with him instead of us… and then you shot Angel, it just span out of control…”
I remember the moments joy at shooting him. Hitting him in the chest. Filling him with the poison. I handled a lot of things wrong too.
“…I think I went a little insano girl too.”
I nod at that. I can believe it. I don’t think about speaking, I just hear my words. They sound so tired, and for an instant it doesn’t sound like me. Doesn’t sound carefree and full of life. It just sounds weary. World weary. Life weary. “Do you think we’ll ever get past it B? Do you think you’ll ever…” I can’t say it.
“Forgive you?”
I look up. “Yeah… that.”
She takes her time and I want her to. I don’t want things that tomorrow won’t mean anything. I want her to think and to mean it with all that she is. I’m holding my breath waiting, just watching her stood before me. Her eyes as they flick back to me, her mouth as it starts to move. “I believe that you’ve changed Faith, is that enough for now? I’m not saying I don’t forgive you or that I won’t… just…” She’s walked back close enough for me to touch. Balanced precariously in my space. I don’t make a move, not a sound. “…just can we do this slow? Can we do it right?”
She’s asking me?
I let the air out from my lungs. Offer her a little smile. “I wanna do this right B.”
And she’s smiling back. And I wanna jump from this tomb and crush her in my arms. Want to tell her that I’m gonna do everything right from now on, that for just the chance of this is all that’s kept me going. I don’t though. I don’t know if I can make more words, if the lump that keeps bobbing in my throat isn’t gonna explode into tears that nobody needs.
I try a cough to clear the feeling. Ignore the look that shows me she knows. “You wanna try and motor? Get the invalid back to base?”
“Nope…” She’s shaking her head and coming in closer, perching herself back in the space right next to me. “…I wanna take another look first, see if it is ok to move you. We can still call Xander.”
I grunt displeasure as she pokes and prods me again. It hurts but I’ll manage. I always have done. “It’s fine, really B…” I catch the raised look, the disbelief. “…look, we’ll get through here and if it still hurts we’ll call the gang ok?”
I like the approval that she nods my way. Her little look of consideration. “You know Faith, I could get used to this talking sense, it’s nice.”
“It is?” More approval. More smiles from me. “It’s Cordy, you spend enough time with her then you have to make sense, it’s either that or end up feeling stupid.”
“I can imagine.” She helps me as I slide off of the tomb, shoots me a sympathetic look as I whimper more distress. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“No.” I grin a little but I do mean it. It fucking hurts. She moves around and she’s supporting me again. Taking my weight. I’m facing her, she’s facing me, I’m in her arms, and I can see the worry that won’t leave her eyes. I have to speak. “I won’t hurt you again, I promise I won’t hurt you again…”
“Faith, don’t…”
“No B, I want to say it.” I see her breathe deep, it’s nothing like the breath I just took. “I’m sorry Buffy, for all of it, everything… I’m sorry.”
I feel her go tense in my arms, my own body stiffening just as much as hers. I’m praying I didn’t just make the biggest mistake yet. Didn’t push it that extra inch too far when I was doing so well. It just felt like the moment to say it. To reassure her.
Her eyes when she shows me them are coated in pain. Lashes sparkling with the dash of tears that haven’t fallen. And I’m so sick of me causing this pain. Any pain for her. My sigh sounds more like a groan, and I know she’s wondering why. Can I say sorry for saying sorry?
I close my eyes on all I caused and go to find my way out of the hole. She stops me, relaxes her body and finds a nice fit. Not just supporting my weight, but holding me steady. “No… Faith…” I don’t wanna look. Don’t wanna see what the ‘no’ is for. “…just wait.”
Well it’s not like I can pull away without collapsing.
The dashes of tears are slipping into streams now and I don’t understand. She speaks again and I hold my breath to hear everything. “It’s ok… what you said? It’s ok.” I want to ask why with the tears then. Why with the pain? “You just, you caught me unguarded… I wasn’t expecting it…”
Her words are lost as I pull her closer. She isn’t rejecting me. Isn’t beating me to death. She’s wrapping her arms tighter around me and I just want to revel in the moment. Let the second be enough. Pretend I can’t hear the sniffles which are leaking out onto my shoulder. I can hear them though, know that my happiness isn’t shared by her. That I’m still making her hurt.
I edge back from the hold, slide an arm up from her body to cradle her face, implore her without words to look at me. Listen to me. I slip my thumb across her cheek and wipe away a tear track. Hold her eyes steady. I don’t know where the words are coming from, but they’re the truth. The open and honest. How I’m feeling. “This has to stop B… okay?”
Her eyes narrow into mine, and I offer her more. “These tears, this pain. I don’t want anymore tears Buffy.” I motion again with my hand to the space between us. The thing between us. “This… us? Whatever it is, whatever it might be… it has to stop hurting. I want to stop hurting you.” Her tears have found fresh tracks, as if each of my words are hurting her more. I let my forehead fall to hers, compose myself to say the words that have to be said. “If you tell me to go Buffy, if you say that this is enough, this is the end… if it’s easier for me to not be here… just tell me to go.”
My own tears are finding a place now. I don’t want this but I have to give her the choice. If it’s best for her then I’ll give it to her. I’ll walk away. “Just tell me it’s what you want and I’ll go.”
It feels like a death sentence as I stand waiting to hear. As I feel her arms slip to looser around me. The sigh that seems to seal my fate. I wanna take it back. Pull the words back. I hear her sniff, pull back my face to see her say the words. “No Faith, I don’t want you to go.”
What? I step back. What else can I do. She’s just sucker punched me with everything I wanted to hear. As soon as my leg touches ground I remember my knee. Remember what took me to her arms in the first place. I go to collapse and she’s there again. Holding me again.
“Say it again.”
Because maybe I heard wrong. Maybe it was a trick of the wind. A lie carried on the breeze. Teasing my ears. Teasing my heart.
She’s smiling at me funny and it makes me smile too. Even before she says it again. “I want you to stay Faith, I don’t want you to go.”
Each word so succinct. So easy to understand. So easy to answer. “Then I’ll stay B, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
She pulls me in tight and I stumble against her. Make a hash of this, our first ever real embrace. But it doesn’t matter… nothing matters anymore. I let my nose open up to find her scent beneath the cover. Even the rank odour of double meat not enough to mask it from me.
My head shoots up at the sudden noise. My neck cracking to the left as I hear the steady clap of applause. Buffy’s tensed against me again, both of us on alert. Already replacing heartfelt with slayer felt.
When I see him I want to kill him. Just the way his vibe rolls across the ground to reach me. The safety of B’s arms becoming less so by the minute. She’s still so tense, frozen with her eyes boring into him. “Spike…” She spit’s the sound from her mouth and I agree.
“Well isn’t this just a picture of touching.” His hand goes to the place his heart doesn’t beat and I wonder if he’s showing me the way. Marking a target. “I wondered where you’d been slayer… you don’t call, you don’t visit…”
“Not now Spike.” Her words come out firm and harsh. She turns her body from me to face him, her arm still resting to give me a brace.
“Not now Buffy?” He starts to encroach on our space, sizing her up, stalking her. His eyes are travelling to places that they’ll never have the right to go to. I want to step up, to stand him down. I test again the limits of my pain and shake Buffy’s arm from me.
The movement catches his eye, makes his gaze of depravity slip and slide across my own skin. Makes that twisted smile rest freely on his lips. He doesn’t speak to me though, all his comments are pointing at Buffy. “What’s this then love? Got yourself a new whipping boy…”
And what the fuck does that mean?
His expression is slipping between hate and hurt. The dead fucker looks almost wounded. And it all makes sense! The dumb fuck is in love with the slayer! I almost laugh as the realisation hits me, as the whole fucking irony hits me. Angel would freak. I want to freak! This thing? This thing even dares to think of her like that?
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Still tense. Eyes still boring.
He’s the same. Both of them frozen. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
“B..?”
Wherever she was she comes straight back to me. Her head swinging to catch my eye. To offer a smile just brief. And then back to him, this time with words. “Spike, I said not now… I’ll speak to you later.” He goes to say something else and she cuts him at the chase. “No, Faith’s hurt… I’m taking her home.”
His hand goes to his jacket and on instinct I go for my stake. He slides his eyes to me again. Smiles again. Slowly pulls out his smokes and lights one. “I’ll just be on my way then ladies…” It’s agony as he turns and leaves. My gut is screaming one thing. The one thing I can’t do. When he speaks again it’s as close to temptation as I’ve come. “…I’ll be waiting for you Buffy.”
Those words again. Waiting for her?
Neither of us move as he slopes away. I smell the smoke long after he goes and it leaves the bitter taste I remember so well aching in my throat. She eventually turns back to me, her arms again looking to help me take weight. I want to say something. To take us back, back to the moment before he came along.
Of course I walk in silence.
All the way to my house and we’re coated in silence. Her body keeping me warm, yet her lack of words chilling me somewhere deep. I want to hear her secret.
I tell myself I don’t know her secret. Won’t listen to my own mind forming the words.
I let her half carry me as we lead up the steps to the door. Let her slide the key into the lock and open the door. Then I call for Cordy. I fucking pray for Cordy.
Her face as she sees me is a picture alright. She’s clucking concern, rescuing me from the awkwardness I was starting to feel. Buffy’s arms slip from me and I hold back my tears. I smile. I wink. I show her that I don’t know her secret.
Her eyes are wavering as she bids me goodnight. Her hand freezing in that void that lies somewhere between us. I could raise my hand to meet hers, but I don’t. I lean harder on Cordy, wince out some pain. It covers it. Camouflages it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Buffy.”
She lets her hand drop and offers me a look of confusion. Pain. “Faith?”
“I’m just beat.” I smile again. Every lie I’ve ever told paling against this one. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
She smiles back at me. Not full watt. I still see the confusion. Maybe understanding? But she accepts it and turns to leave.
As soon as the door shuts I’m down. Down and out. I let Cordy usher me onto the sofa, let her fuss around my knee some more. She doesn’t ask questions, she knows me well enough to know when not to. I’ll talk when I’m ready to talk.
For now I just want to rest. Need to rest.
There’s a puzzle in my brain and the pieces are starting to fit. To slide into place, all edges meeting. I don’t like the picture I’m seeing. The image as it takes shape unbidden against the back of my eyelids.
I wished I knew all of her secrets. Now I just wish I could take it back.
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