POV Tara
Today was better then yesterday. An easy statement to make. After all, today didn’t begin with a stakeout till dawn. Didn’t begin with the vicious retching of the woman I love. She was calmer today. Her shoulders firm from noon until night, as if holding her body steady would allow her to dispel the sickness from within. To keep a hold on all the feelings which threaten to overwhelm her.
I know how hard it is for her. She told me. About how it feels, when her body gives over to it, lets the power run rampant along all of her senses, the coiling inside, the need to give in… she told me it all with tears in her eyes. Tears of guilt, tears of apology, tears of pleading.
Every time I touched her I could feel it. Like a bad taste on my skin, just below hers. It made her hot, it made her cold, skin clammy against my soothing fingers. I still held her though, still let her words run over my ears as the tears ran from her eyes. It’s hurting both of us and I want it to stop.
I don’t know what to do.
I can’t promise that it will all be okay, I can’t promise that nothing bad will ever happen, I can’t promise her that the temptation will never again come knocking at the door. All I can do is promise her that I love her, that I believe in her. That I see her strength and it keeps me strong.
I can’t make her believe me.
So small she looked wrapped in sheets, centred on the bed, brow furrowing as she tried to hear what I had to say. Tried to deny it with words which sprang from the fear.
‘I’m not strong Tara… how can you say that, you saw what I did, what I wanted to do…’
Of course I did. I felt it more. The chill that swept through the room as evil had perched upon her shoulder, it had reached right through to my core. The pain of cuts and bruises nothing compared to the pain of hearing her lose herself. Surrender herself.
I had taken her back into arms. ‘Yes baby, you are. You’re my strength.’
And I said it so many times that it became a mantra. So many times that the words threatened to lose all their meaning. What more can I do? What else can I say?
I stayed with her until the sadness started falling and her lips began to rise. Just touches at first, her mind clearing from the leftover haze to leave it free to be her. Uniquely her. My smiles growing as hers did. As talk moved away from what she couldn’t do, to things that we were going to do. School talk. Home talk. I’m coming home talk.
That’s when it sealed the deal. The deal with her face to light at my words. The smile no longer tugging but firmly held in place. No hint of blackness in eyes as they danced with the joy of some happiness.
‘You’re coming home?’
‘If that’s what you want… it IS what you want right?’
My voice had slipped into timid, a moments insecurity blanketing me with the girl I was in the past. Even I wasn’t always strong, even I hadn’t learnt completely how to bury demons in the past. I don’t know that anyone ever truly does. I think we pretend, we pretend and we hope. Hope that nothing comes along to rock our boat, to remind us that the demons are there just waiting for the slip. For just a moments look in.
The arms that found me weren’t soft and gentle, they were fast and furious, wrapped in the sounds of Willow’s joy, of her absolute approval of my returning to the coop. Admonishing me for questioning that what was obvious, the thing that she wanted the most.
It wiped the fears from my heart, reminded me again that I had love. For her and from her. It made me forget about monsters and pranksters, the things that go bump… it made me think of another kind of bumping. A touch I had missed. Hands trembling as they sought to find a way from nervous to sure. To reacquaint themselves with skin they knew so well, grooves they had mapped, sighs they had produced.
Not the frantic pace of burning lust, not the nervy pace of tentative beginnings. Our own pace. Kissing places out of sight, pleasure mixed with giggles mixed with the thing that feels like salvation. Yes she was my strength. And yes she gave me strength. In the moments when I believed my caresses would bring her back to me, she brought me back to her. Burned her love back into my body. Made me whole again.
Her words slipped over my ears as she held me, special words, secret words. Things which made me blush. Things which make me smile to remember. A special welcome home. It cocooned us in our bedroom for hour upon hour, missing sunshine, missing sunset. The gurgles of tummies nothing in comparison to the pounding of our hearts. Sating one hunger before another could be dealt with.
And downstairs. Sisters smiling, wrapped on the couch and watching a movie. Easy to believe that everything was better. That Buffy’s eyes didn’t latch onto mine the moment that I appeared, that her gaze wasn’t imploring me to find time for her. That she needed to speak to me again. I nodded my silent approval, mouthed the word ‘later’, watched her own silent nod of reply, and then followed her eyes as they slipped back to the TV. Her arms as they slid tighter around Dawn.
I let them have their moment. Went to the kitchen and made food for my girl. All on a tray, lovingly prepared. I listened as the movie ended, as voices rose in chatter and laughter, sisterly sniping, things seemingly back in place. I wanted to confirm it for them, prove that we were going to get better, that everything was starting to get better. I waited until I had passed them again, threw my comment over my shoulder as I went to climb the stairs. ‘Oh, and guys… just so you know, I’ll be moving back in.’
I think Buffy shrieked louder then Willow. I know that Dawn did. I backed up against the wall and held Willow’s dinner in the air as the crazy excitable youth leapt her way towards me.
“Oh my god, you are? Oh wow! This is so great…” Like a puppy, jumping, yelping, running back to stand in front of Buffy. “…isn’t this great Buffy? Tara’s moving back in!”
And Buffy’s less excitable but no less heartfelt agreement. “Yes Dawnie, that’s great.” Her eyes as they had sought out mine, full of love. Of smiles. Everything feeling like home.
The evening passing slowly as I stayed in our room, eating, playing. Holding my girl until she slipped into rest. A smile still on her face, a flush still on her skin. It made me never want to leave her, made it hurt to slip from her arms and wrap myself in a robe. But I said that I would make time for Buffy and I like to do as I say.
I don’t know if she was waiting for me. Sat at the table her eyes lost in a book.
“Buffy?”
Her gaze flicked to mine, back to the book. “You know I have no clue what this book is about? I’ve been reading it for the last half an hour and I have no clue what it’s about…”
I leant across her shoulder to see what it was. Laughed out loud as I realised she had been reading one of Willow’s books on quantum physics. “I think you got the wrong book, the research pile is that one.” I pointed out her mistake, one pile for research, one pile for homework. Watched as she coloured just a little.
“Oh, ok… and I knew that, I wanted to read up on some uh…” She peered down at the page she was ‘reading’, a deep frown knitting her brow. “…uh… what’s that word say Tara?”
I laughed a little again at the look on her face, didn’t even bother to try and decipher the words for her. I knew that this was just distraction, keeping her mind occupied, away from all those things that she didn’t want to think about.
“How about we forget the physics and I make us tea?”
“Now? You don’t have to Tara, I get with Willow, and you, and the making up goodyness… I can wait.” She was nodding her head to accentuate her words. “Go on… get back to your girl!”
Tempting? Of course it was. It didn’t happen though. Being there for someone means being there when they need you. Not when you have the time. I made the tea. Urged her through to the couch and settled her down.
“So what’s going on? Is it Faith?”
I’m not stupid. I know that they had patrol last night. Together. I know Buffy was late home.
“Am I really that obvious?”
“Easier to read then the quantum physics.” She took it as the joke it was, smiled a little as she blew on her tea. I let her take a moment to compose whatever it was she wanted to say. Watched her face as she went to speak. Stopped. Opened her mouth. Stopped. I could see the internal struggle to make herself form words. I didn’t rush her, didn’t prod her into action. I just waited.
Finally when her words did come she spoke them with conviction. Eyes locked into mine as if demanding that I hear her. “I have feelings for Faith.”
Five little words which weren’t said to convince me. It was something I already knew, had already accepted. These were words spoken to assure herself. To confirm for herself that it was the truth. I put my hand to hers and held it through the resulting silence. Let her keep the platform to speak all of her words.
“It sounds crazy saying it… but then, I don’t… it feels ‘right’ saying it.” She drew in a breath, spoke it again. “I have feelings for Faith.”
She smiled into my eyes, an unsure smile. It made me want to assure her. “Buffy, it feels right because it’s the truth…” Still unsure. “…it’s so easy to see, so obvious to see, why are you fighting it? Why can’t you just accept it?”
She laughed a little of her laughs, “You want to know?” Of course I did, I nodded my yes, urged her on. “It’s because I’m scared… I’m terrified Tara, all of it, I’m so damn scared.”
“Of Faith… because she was…” I flicked through mad, bad, crazy and psycho. Settled on something less damning. “…unstable?”
And that certainly made her laugh more. “Unstable? Are you kidding me? She was crazy Tara, I mean really, REALLY crazy, knocking on the door of insanity.” Her face was alight as she spoke, as if seeing it again, before her eyes. It didn’t stop the smile though. “But no, that’s not it… I get that’s she’s changed, that she’s the girl I first met and not the monster we made her.”
Those words had spoken volumes to me. I’d never heard anyone take any of the responsibility for what had gone wrong with Faith before now. It had only ever been incriminations. What the girl herself had done. I took it as a positive. That Buffy was accepting finally that every story, no matter how one sided, always had many dimensions.
“So if not that, then what Buffy… what’s to be scared of? You know she has feelings too…”
“I don’t know, I can’t… it’s like…” I saw the briefest flash of pain, just flickering, just a moment. “…I was dead, completely dead… compost dead, and I’ve been dealing with that. Badly I know, but I’ve been trying. And now? Oh god… there is so much to feel, things I can’t help feeling… so strong, I just… it’s overwhelming Tara, I feel so overwhelmed.”
I hadn’t heard Buffy use the word feeling so much in one go since… well, since forever. “But you wanted to feel Buffy. You said you wanted to feel.”
“I know, and I do… just… what if it all goes wrong? What if it’s all too much?.”
That was an assurance I couldn’t offer. Nobody could. “Sometimes things do go wrong, it doesn’t matter how much you don’t want it to… how much it hurts.” I knew it was truth. “But you have to take the risk, because when it does work?” I thought upstairs to the one that awaited me. “When it works Buffy it’s the best thing ever. It’s everything.”
I saw her contemplating. Taking in the only advice I could offer. “Wills is so lucky to have you, you do know that?”
“I’m lucky to have her too, it goes both ways.”
I heard her agree. Confirm both of our luck at having each other. “It’s nice to have my beacon shining bright again… helps with the fear.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Doesn’t help so much with the what I do now though.”
She took a moment to drink some more tea. I tried to think of ways to guide her with choices, but I didn’t know either. There was only one way I ever knew to approach any problem. The one time I had dismissed this, things had almost gone wrong. No. Open and honest had to be the way. The only way.
“You should talk to her, tell her how you feel maybe?”
“We did talk… kind of, there was words, whole sentences…” She trailed off, looked confused. “…I told her Tara, I think…”
“You think?”
“I told her I wanted to do this slow, to do it right…” She was nodding her head along with her words. Confirming that her memories were correct. “…and then there was hugging, which was nice, comforting… but then.” Now the nodding stopped and confused returned. She sank back into the sofa with a soft sigh. “I don’t know… she offered to leave, I said I wanted her to stay… then Spike was there.”
“Huh?” I nearly choked on my tea. Spike was there? “Did you just say Spike was there?”
“I know, crazy huh? A vampire walking through the cemetery late at night.” She laughed at her own humour, a bitter little laugh. “And at that moment? Talk about bad timing…”
“Did he… say anything?”
She filled me in on the exchange. The vibe. Her horror at standing between the two of them. Her fear at the secret she held inside. Her fear at Faith knowing. Of having to tell her.
“I can’t even stand it myself Tara, when I think about all that I’ve let him do to me… all the times that he’s touched me, it makes me so sick, so ashamed. How can I expect her to hear that and not…”
“Not what Buffy?”
“I don’t know. Not hate me? It makes me hate myself.”
I shushed down her concern. Reminded her that there were reasons she had gone to Spike. Things that she was dealing with. It didn’t make her a bad person. It didn’t make her unlovable.
“But what if it does? What if now I’ve realised, now I’ve finally began to see all that she means to me… what if it’s too late?”
I couldn’t answer that. There was only one person who could answer that. “I think you’re gonna have to ask Faith that one. I don’t know… but the feeling that neither of you can hide, maybe you should trust in it… trust in her. Tell her.”
Her eyes had flashed much more pain. I didn’t envy her position, having to risk all the new things she was feeling because of something she had done. Mistakes she had made. Faith had come here hoping for forgiveness. Now Buffy would have to step up and maybe do the same.
“I have to see Spike first.”
“What?” I wondered if maybe she wasn’t a little unstable too. “I don’t think that seeing Spike is the best idea right now sweetie.”
“Oh no! Not like that… I mean, I have to tell him. I haven’t seen him, I need to tell him no more… that it’s over.” Her voice was solid and steady, sure in it’s words. “I can’t go to Faith, I can’t expect anything from her until it’s finished.”
There was a definite sense to the words she was speaking, but I didn’t want her to go near him again. I didn’t trust him. No one else knew that he could hurt her, the things he was capable of doing to her… and I hated that she would be putting herself into that situation. I had seen the way that he looked at her. That naked carnal want in his eyes… the ownership. It gave me fear. Fear for her.
“Buffy, are you sure you should do that? That it’ll be ok?” I didn’t want to say ‘that he won’t hurt you’, but then I didn’t need to. It was obvious to her what I meant.
“I’m still a slayer, Tara. And he is just a vampire… you really think I can’t handle that?”
Physically? Yes. I did believe, but then emotionally? Mentally? I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know what kind of hold he had held over her, what had made her keep returning to him when her family was at home waiting. “Are YOU sure you can handle it?”
She smiled with her eyes as she assured me yes. “It’ll be fine. Trust me!”
So I had tried to. It didn’t stop the worry in the back of my mind though. That she shouldn’t be so hasty, shouldn’t assume that he would just let her go. Just like that.
We finished up our tea with more talk of Faith. Buffy filling me in on times that I had never before heard about. Before Faith had gone ‘unstable’ as she was now laughingly calling it. Times when she had felt so free, so relaxed at the side of the other slayer. How different they were, how similar they were… how special they were.
I wanted to prod and to tease that she had it bad. I restrained myself though. It was too new a realisation for her, for me to poke fun at. Instead I sat through the commentary of years gone by, listened to the silence when she hushed herself for the hard bit. Not wanting to keep reliving it, keep speaking it. Happier to remember the time before.
She yawned as she rose and stretched herself out. “Do you think the higher powers will hate me if I don’t patrol tonight?”
“Don’t be silly, you deserve a rest. And if they do start hating I’ll appeal on your behalf. Deal?”
“Sounds better then patrolling, works for me.”
Always so focused on duty. If it hadn’t already proven the case I’d worry that one day it would get her killed. Now I just prayed that it never happened again. That dying once, twice was enough for any girls lifetime. Even the ‘one girl’ in all the world.
We walked the stairs together. Last little chatters about this and that. Not important, all just easy. I watched her go to her room, offered her good night. She wiggled her eyebrows and offered me a better one. Welcomed me home again.
As I closed the door to my room I left all of the problems outside. Willow was sleeping and she looked so lonely in the moonlight. Pale skin reflecting. It was the easiest thing in the world to go to her, to find my place holding her. Feeling her relax back into my arms, jumbling words of love spoken through snoozing. I let myself relax with her and spoke words of my own. Words just for her.
It was the truth that I had told Buffy. When it works it’s the best thing ever. It’s everything.
POV Faith
Today, yesterday, the day before..? It all blurs into one. One long scene filled with the things I didn’t want to see. The knowledge I didn’t want to know. It kept me housebound better then the knee ever could. It hurt worse then the knee ever could. It’s all just fucked up.
I tell myself that I don’t know. That it’s not the truth. Not the secrets she seeks to hide. But I do know. The pieces fit. It all fits.
I remember standing outside of his crypt. That feeling, the burning. The intensity. Makes sense now though. She was in there. It was her I was feeling. Nothing else. Never anything else.
I block the memory of seeing her after. Of believing I was the one for her to crash against. To catch her when she fell. Now I just want to move aside. Want to let her pass me and never look back. The way I thought it would be. Maybe the way it should be.
Jesus! I wanted to kill him for the way that he looked at her. To stand in front of him and offer her protection. Block his view. Keep the monsters at bay. And that just shows how much of a fucking chump I am. Really fucking sweet. The way that his eyes slid? God, the fucking way that his eyes seemed to devour her? It’s not his eyes I see now though, now it’s all of him.
And I just can’t stop seeing him. At her, on her, in her. It fucking rips at me, squeezing my heart in the tightest of vices, tainting the air that I breathe with the taste of his sickness. At least now I know why the fucker keeps on grinning at me. Sardonic grin? Fuck that. I see it now as a satisfied grin. The look that says he has it all. Has had it all. Makes me wanna puke. Again.
All the god damn hours that I’ve sat in my place awake have taunted me. Showing repeats of the things I have never seen, but that I keep seeing over and over. I wonder if she enjoyed it. If she cried out for him, screamed for him, dug in her hands and pulled him in tighter. Closer. If she loved every minute of it. A part of me says that she must of done. She kept going back for more right? Gotta figure that she’s been scratching her itch there for more then a while. Maybe since she clawed her way back, clawed her way out. Seems fucking pointless, all that effort to break ground and then rolling with something that belongs underground. It’s whacked.
It’s got me fucking whacked.
Whacked into numbness. Even when I believe it, I can’t fucking believe it! I wanna ask why, how… Jesus. I don’t wanna know. It feels like a disease. The dead fucker has never laid a hand on me, but just visiting that place? For a second imagining his hands could ever touch me that way? Beyond diseased. I’d tear my skin off. I wanna tear my skin off.
How can I even begin to make sense of something that makes no sense?
Why?
Just tell me fucking why?
I remember little Dawn crying down the phone. That haunts me too. Knowing now what kept her sister at bay, what stopped her from being in the places she should’ve been. That part makes me angry. Old style angry. There just can’t be an explanation. How can there be an excuse for that? I can’t even think of a word for that.
I always thought that I was the wrong one. Even when I helped her taste some badness I was mocking her on the inside for all of her naivety, the innocence that kept her scared. The same innocence that took her from me. Pushed me from her. I’d play it different now. Damn fucking right I would. If I’d known how easy she gave it up for evil I would’ve swept her right up and blown her away.
I didn’t know though did I?
I tried to keep it cool, tried to keep it slow. Tried to fit into her life in a way that made her comfortable. In the background. Edging forwards, scared to make moves. Cocky bravado my only weapon.
Turns out I lost my heart to the girl and I didn’t even know her.
Not sure if I wanna know her. If it wouldn’t be easier to just walk away. Run away. Not for her, for me. I KNOW it would be easier. It’s wistful smiles that tug at my lips when I remember the sweet feel of distance. Of sanity.
Then I remember how it feels to walk away from responsibility. From duty. And I know I won’t be leaving. I won’t abandon the fight just because I can’t handle her. I did that before, when it started to go wrong. No. I’ll stay to protect Dawn, Tara. Whoever needs me. Pray that maybe someone can protect me.
Yesterday I was meant to see her. There wasn’t a chance in hell. Cordy rang through, offered explanations of knees of pain, lots of sleep. She sent me best wishes and said she would see me today. The fading of the daylight hours is making me wonder when. Wonder why. What sick little game she wants us to play.
I don’t think I can play pretend. Everything I feel is too real to hide. To stuff beneath smiles and smother with words. As soon as I see her face she’s gonna know that I know. And what happens after that is anybody’s guess.
I wanted to make everything better for her. Can she even begin to make this better for me? Stop me feeling the way that I feel? Cos at this moment it just doesn’t seem worth it. Too much pain in memories to give me the will to fight for something I’ve never had.
And then there’s the other kind of taunting. Not the daylight hours, the hours I sat here awake and thinking. No. As if that wasn’t hard enough. Even more taunting are the dreams. The ones that I had when I closed my eyes. The ones that wrapped me in warmth and made the daylight even harder to bear.
In my dreams I see the other side. The way her eyes have been watching me, following me. Beseeching me to trust in her, believe in her. To pull her up and hold her strong. All the things that I wanted to do, that I thought I was meant to do. Destiny right?
My destiny to love her.
My dreams show me that and I remember different truths. Not truths of secrets untold. Truths of words spoken, of the feeling felt. The truth of being the one that she crashed into, the one that caught her as she fell. The one that offered a hand and helped her up.
Her hands holding me steady. I feel that too. The silence of every moment when her gaze locks into mine. In anger, in pain. In everything. All those moments are silent for me, the rest of the world nothing in comparison to the feel of being at one with her.
God I’m fucked.
I want it so damn bad, more then anything, more then ever. I still want to be the one for her. For her to be the one for me. And then I see it again.
It’s the thing that crashes into me. The thing that sends me falling. Treading rope without a net. And every single fucking time I see that fucker there waiting to push me. His eyes. His smile. His gaze locking onto me. Silent too but a different kind of silence. His vibe that encloses me, daring me, ensnaring me… yeah I feel the darkness. Evil loves company and he’s got his fingers on all of evil’s buttons.
I wanna show him. Evil is as evil does and I can be so fucking evil. I’ve been there, I’ve done it, I’ve worn every T’shirt in every damn size. I want to let him push me and punish him with the result, that silent side is begging for him to push me. To call out the bad girl I’ve spent so long admonishing. My grin would be twice as sardonic as his as I slid home my stake. I wouldn’t give a fuck as he lay defenceless before me. Dust is just dust. I can’t feel anything for dust.
I lie. I fucking hate him.
I’m feeling a whole lot of hate. Makes me antsy.
I shared my own set of visions with Cordy. Her mouth agape as I slid her through the chain of events. Waited with pleading to hear her rebuke every theory. Assure me that yeah, I’m still kinda crazy, still kinda living with a screwed up view of the world. She didn’t though, she couldn’t. It’s like I said. All the pieces fit.
I told her and then I banished her. I don’t want soothing arms or soothing words. It’s all too raw to be soothed. I need answers first. Understanding. Something. Anything.
It kept me from speaking to Angel as well. I didn’t care how many times she banged on the door, how often she threatened to tell him I was losing it if I didn’t come out. I am losing it. I don’t care if she tells him. I laughed when she threatened to break down the door and spank some sense into me though. If my mind wasn’t occupied I would’ve assumed the position and invited her in. But it was occupied. Wading through the shit.
I’m so sick of the shit.
It makes me move now. Lets me smile as I realise my knee isn’t screaming. Make my way to the shower to rinse it all from me. Smell clean. Stay clean. No longer the slayer that rolls in the dirt. The one that’s coated in the bad stuff. I even smile just a little at the realisation that it’s me now looking down at her. Not because I want to smile, because I want to gaze down. But because it’s just so damn surreal. Me feeling more righteous then her?
Fuck smiling a little, I wanna howl with the laughter.
All that time that I believed that I was no good for her, that I wallowed somewhere on the floor, useless beneath her. Yes I killed people, and I know how wrong I was. How bad I was, would do anything to relive the past. And yet… and yet she chooses to be with him? An evil dead thing capable of more death, more pain, more destruction then I could ever get close to. She lets that fucker fill her with his ‘little bit’, and I am below her?
My perspective is screwed. Seems I’ve been viewing the world from the wrong way up. Everything back to front. Nonsensical.
I’m still shaking my head with the insanity of it all as I head for the kitchen. Nothing keeps a slayer’s appetite down. Not for too long. And the smell of the food that’s wafting it’s way? I’m starving.
She turns to look at me as soon as she hears me. Cordelia Chase in front of a cooker? Makes me smile. Makes her ask.
“What’s so amusing? I thought you were brooding?”
“Yeah, me too.” I offer a solemn nod. “Caught the smell of the cooking though and I just had to see for myself.”
“See what?”
“You, with the domestic…” I wave a hand vaguely in the direction of the pots and pans. “…do you even know what you’re doing?”
That earns a not so sweet smile. “If you were thinking about eating Faith I’d quit that road now… for your info I can cook perfectly well, I just choose not to.” She holds up her hand and wiggles her fingers. “It’s hell on the manicure, all that domestic stuff.”
I can imagine it’s a bitch. I look down at my own nails. Chewed through with the thoughts of the previous hours. I guess madness is hell on a manicure too.
I sit myself at the table and make small talk whilst waiting. The smell of the food making my mouth water with want. I hope she’s making lots. Whatever it is I hope there’s a feast. And she doesn’t disappoint. She very rarely does. All laid out before me, all the foods I love. Her eyes tell me it’s comfort food, so I stuff my belly full and let myself be comforted. It feels good. A bit better.
I let her steer the conversation anyway she wants, knowing where it’s going, small talk nothing to stand in her way. At least she lets me finish chewing before she starts on the questions. Barely lets me swallow.
“So what are going to do?”
“You expect me to know?” Because I really don’t. All of my ideas are vague ideas.
“You want me to offer suggestions?” She smiles a Cordy smile, eyes dancing. “Because I have lots of options…” She holds her fingers out and starts counting them off, matter of factly, one after the other. “…there’s the dusting for Spike of course, although I’ve considered maiming… prolonging the agony, maybe taking him to the salon and get him a sunbed?”
I wonder if it would work. I could say I didn’t know. Was just worried that his complexion was looking a bit pale… wanted to help. Makes me smile. As an option it doesn’t suck.
She counts through all of her fingers, every scenario more ludicrous then the last, all of them meant to keep me grinning. Keep me happy. Now that we’ve got through all of the fingers though? Now she’s dropping her voice to quiet. Serious replacing playfulness.
“Or you could go and talk to Buffy. Ask her straight out…”
That one doesn’t make me smile. It brings the pain crashing straight back.
“…give her a chance to explain. To give you her reasons.”
I want to scream out how fucking stupid that is. How I don’t even want to see her. Don’t need to see her. That my whole fucking world isn’t balancing on a pin head with the thought of seeing her. Asking her.
‘Hey B, fucked any dead guys lately?’
Is there an explanation for that? Is there any form of reasoning behind that.
“What would you do Cor?”
“What would I do?” She looks for a minute as if she is genuinely considering it. Gives me hope that she’ll have the right answer. “I for one would NEVER have fallen in love with Buffy ‘vamp fetish’ Summers… I mean, really? Not one vamp, but TWO… is there a word for that?”
Of course there is. “Necrophiliac.”
“Ewww… that’s sick… Buffy, layer of the undead…”
I let her carry on as long as she wants. I know in a minute her mind will catch up with mine. Await the blush as she remembers her own feelings for Angel. Considers that she could be heading for some necrophilia of her own…
It’s funny as the realisation sweeps into her tone. Onto her face. Her words changing to find a way out.
“…just one vamp, that would have been different, like… an experiment, but two…? Yep, you sleep with two, you must have a problem…”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t tease her, don’t rag on her for Angel. If those two have a shot at happiness then go for it. I won’t be calling any names. Passing any judgement. Angel is more of a man then any living breathing one I’ve ever met. The whole being undead thing is kinda easy to forget. To forgive.
I wish everything was as easy to forget. Didn’t make me sigh with the absurdity of the situation. I fix my eyes into Cordy’s and show her all that I’m feeling, hit her with the confusion, the pain, the hope, the hurt, the need… I show her everything. Catch that sympathetic smile in response.
“It’ll all work out Faith, whatever happens it’ll all work out.”
“Do ya have any visionary proof?”
“Not exactly… but my sixth sense is also pretty good, I’m getting the ‘it’s all gonna work out ’ vibe. You and Buffy are just so tragic that it has to work…” I have to agree. With the tragic bit. “…the only two girls in all the world with the same deal going on? I don’t wanna say ‘meant to be’… but…”
“Don’t say it Cordy. It’s that kind of thinking that brought me here in the first place.”
I watch her ease back. Stand from the table and start collecting dishes. I know what I have to do. Where I have to go. Not to him, not to seek vengeance for the pain that he’s caused me. But to her. For the answers. The reasoning. To see if I can stand before her and not feel revolted. If I can even bear to hear her form words. Offer the ones I need.
When I look up she’s staring at me. Another sympathetic glance. Another heavy sigh.
“Why does it all have to be so fucked up huh? Why can’t nothing ever just be easy?” I have to ask. Someone has to know.
She doesn’t. She shakes her head. “Faith, it’s not that simple, you know that. Things happen, good things, bad things…” Mostly bad things. “…it’s just another thing, another thing to be worked out. Solved. Sorted.”
“Yeah, simple as.”
“It’s as simple as you let it be. So Buffy’s screwed up, it’s not the end of the world, it just proves that she’s not perfect, that nobody is perfect.”
I know that she’s trying to reach me with those words, to jog memories of when I wasn’t perfect, when I made mistakes. But it’s too soon. For all I know Buffy doesn’t even think that it is a mistake. Really has loved every second of it.
It’s like I said, I know where I have to go. Who I need to see. The only place I can ever hope for answers.
It’s easy to stand strong now on my own two feet, not needing support, my knee barely remembering how bad it was busted. Seems two days in bed is good for the healing. And now it’s just my heart to go.
Cordy smiles when I tell her I’m heading, where I’m headed. “Just go slow Faith. Keep calm and go slow.”
It reminds me of Buffy’s words. ‘Can we do this slow, can we do this right?’ And now I have to find out if we can even do this at all. Keep calm. Go slow.
I arm myself with wood and head into the night. Not sure if I’m preparing myself for slaying, or preparing myself to go for him. Either way it’s good to be prepared. To be ready.
And now I’m standing outside of her house and I am ready. Ready to face her and ready to hear.
To tell her that I know her secret.
Chapter 17
POV Faith
I had knocked on the door firm and steady, had been prepared to face her, ready to face her. My moment, her moment. Everything out in the open, and where do we go from here? All the way over I had worked on composure. On slow and steady wins the race. Keep calm. Save face. And then the door had opened and the truth was put on show.
Not that Buffy had opened the door. How could she? She wasn’t even there.
It was Tara’s eyes that had found rest on me, had looked at the way I looked at her and confirmed already what I guessed I knew. And I saw her get it too, saw the mild flash of horror as she saw that I was already holding the knowledge. No more secrets. Can’t fool Faith. Except I already felt like a fool.
“Faith.” Not questioning, not greeting me. Just my name. Just slid between lips. I waited on more. Raised my eyebrows and leant myself against the porch. “Are you here to see Buffy?”
I let my head fall to the side. Sizing her up. Registering the discomfort she had at being held under my gaze. I wasn’t trying to intimidate her… she was just my first point of anger. The first one who fell under my spotlight, ready for the inquisition. I shook my eyes from her a little, didn’t want her to think that I was skating with crazy. Nodded my head. “Yeah, I’m here to see Buffy.”
I think I snarled over her name in ways that I didn’t mean to. Made Tara’s eyes widen for a minute with the worry of fear. She stepped back and claimed better composure than me, opened the door a little and invited me in. It was good of her, I wouldn’t have invited me in with the vibe I was giving off right then.
I took in the faces as soon as I was through the door. All of the gang, all cosy and sweet. Geek boy there again, sharing popcorn with Dawn. It was calm. All nice and happy. Of course my eyes searched for her, confirmed in minutes that she wasn’t in the room. It made me question Tara, made me want to go find her. “Where is she?”
It made them all look up. Like I shattered the calm with the steel in my voice. I watched them exchange glances. Xander the one with the balls to speak. To challenge my tone. “Uh… Faith, are you and Buffy fighting again? I thought you slay girls had flown past the aggro?”
I offered him a look. My face the canvas for showing how pissed I was.
“They’re fine Xander, I’m just going to take Faith through to the kitchen…” Tara was pulling at me as she spoke, dragging me away from the concern for my sanity which was obvious in the front room. “…have a little chat.”
I didn’t want a little chat though. I wanted direction. To find the one that I was looking for.
She was insistently moving me so I had to follow. Not speaking, just waiting. As soon as we stopped, I was asking again. “Where is she Tara?”
“Faith…” Said softly, said slowly. “…what’s going on?”
“You are joking right?” Because I wasn’t. I was finding it hard to even find a smile for her. She knew. Yeah she did, she knew what the secret was. She had stood back and watched me fall and had never said a word, never given me anything to hold me back. “You know what’s going on Tara. You know all of it.”
“All of it?”
Was she mad? I didn’t come here to play dumb. “All of it. Everything. The whole fucking sick little side show… tell me you didn’t know Tara, tell me that it’s not her secret..?”
I waited, I watched. Almost amused as she telegraphed all that I had already worked out. “How did you…”
“So that is it then?”
She seemed to deflate a little. Sigh a lot. She looked me in the eye and stepped towards me. I stepped straight back. “How long?”
She didn’t know what to do. Was left hovering in limbo as I backed away from any placating touches that she wanted to offer me. Her eyes were tearing up and I didn’t care a shit. Not one fucking bit. What the hell did she have to cry at? Was it her heart breaking in two? Her who had been made to feel like the chump of the century? Every fucking century?
Her mouth did the gaping fish movement, opening and shutting, not sure if she was struggling to find breath or struggling to find words. When they came they offered me nothing. “I… I think you should talk to Buffy, you need to speak to Buffy.”
I flirted with psychosis for just a second, tempted to scream out my absolute fucking dismay at lack of answers! I reeled it and sealed it. I was pissed but not mad. Not that kind of mad. Not yet. Tara didn’t deserve my madness. I would save it. I sighed out my aggression and tried to show her the face of the girl she had been getting to know. The one that could make her smile. Not recoil.
“I get that, so what gives? Where is she?”
And how does silence ever say so much?
It stretched into ridiculous. Her steadfast in refusal to speak the words. Me steadfast in refusal to speak his name. I wouldn’t ask. I wanted told. “Tara?”
“She’ll be back…” She glanced to the clock. “…soon. We have movies planned, she was going to call you… invite you and Cordy over…”
“Where the fuck is she!?”
Could I get any clearer? Did she think that I gave a shit about movies and invites? If B was where I was thinking she was, then no amount of movies would be able to pacify my feelings.
Tara’s eyes were darting back and forth, typical escape route planning. I stepped up. “Just say it.”
My tone sounded resigned. I was resigned. I think that she saw that. That it allowed her to speak. “She’s at Spike’s”
So whispered. So softly spoken yet hitting so hard. I felt the daze come over me, my whole body screaming the directions to his crypt. Images thrusting. What I would find there? What I would see?
I slammed my fist down on the counter harder then I meant to. My distaste demanding an immediate outlet. She jumped back, flew back. Started words again. “Look Faith… it’s not…”
“Don’t!” As cold as ice. “Don’t give me her god damn excuses.” I didn’t have time for them. I had walked my way here with hope as a companion, a sliver of belief that she could still make it better… could show me still that it was okay. That we could do this right.
There was only one thing that I knew I could do now. One place I could go. Where my body wanted me to go. It felt like slaying. The need. I turned from her to walk away. Stopped moving when she spoke. “Wait Faith.” I didn’t move. “Just go easy on her… give her a chance to explain…”
I didn’t look. Didn’t answer. Strolled towards the kitchen door.
And just guess what I found waiting outside? A little blonde fucking rat, ears all perked for listening. Holding a popcorn bowl, eyes the size of fucking saucers, the smell of fear sneaking from his pants. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He shrivelled before me. No sign of a backbone. “I uh… me?” He held up the bowl, his nervous gaze flitting everywhere but my eyes. “Popcorn.”
Bullshit. I stared some of my rage at him, watched him shrivel a whole more. If I had had the time I would have stayed and whacked some manners into him. Fucking eavesdropping? What kind of shit is that? As it was I just looked. Let him know that listening for gossip at my door was liable to get him dead. Soon. Wondered who he wanted to share my secrets with. Dawn? Guy bonding with Xander? What fucking ever.
I slinked past him and back through the tense front room. All eyes looking but not one having a clue. No one bold enough to speak to me. To even dare to question me. Tara could fill them in when I was gone. Or not. Wouldn’t want to let Buffy’s dirty little secrets out.
The fresh cooling air outside of the house did little to calm me. I was hearing the night time. The call of the darkness. It was easy to let it back in. Just a taster, just a remembrance of the things I had inside. The weapons at my disposal. I walked there without thinking direction, could have closed my eyes and let her pull me. Focusing on the sound of my boots pounding against earth, not the sound of the other pounding, the one in my heart. It was the moment of adrenalin before a fight. The moment of prolonged expectation before my body exploded into action. Every step closer a second passed in the countdown.
And then I was there. The same place as before. Just standing there looking, wondering at what was inside. A little clearer now. No longer a misplaced buzz. A confusing signal. Knowing with absolute fucking certainty that she was in there. With him.
I wanted to howl. Not with tears, but with a warning. It felt so fucking primal, a need so deep to kill, to destroy. Everything around me. Everything that hurt. I wanted to burst straight in there and make quick work of the pain. Job done. Games over.
Instead I took deep breaths. A whole fucking lot of deep breaths. I had focused hard on everything I had learnt. About myself, how to deal with myself. I remembered Angel’s words, soft words, wise words… I grabbed at every single string tethering me to sanity. To self control.
A slow pace to the door. Just trying to breathe.
Should I knock? I didn’t know. Should I just crash through like Buffy had done before? It sounded like a plan.
And that’s just how my mind had worked. Bringing my boot up to smash, to break through the barrier. My knee able to deal with it. Not even feeling it. Eyes scanning, this way that way, shadows, objects, faces. Recognition.
And then nothing. The world stopped spinning. Her eyes locked deep into mine, and for just that moment, before it all came crashing back? In that moment I almost found a smile ‘hello’. How fucked up and messed up. For less than a second I had just seen her, no baggage, no bullshit. The girl that I loved.
And then I was seeing the more. The fear in her eyes. Knowing in that instant beyond any shadows of any stupid doubts. The realisation sitting clear on her face. Round one to the dead fucker. His hands had been all over her. And she knew that I knew it.
She was sat atop a tomb with him at her side. The sweetest flowing white shirt encasing her body, crisp blue denim encasing her ass. The colour of the top had made me think of innocence. Of purity. And there was none of that in this room. I stalked slowly over, fixed all of the years of sexy swagger into my walk. Oozed with a confidence I was nowhere near feeling. Played it cocky for the moment, danger creeping slowly to the surface. “B… fancy seeing you here.”
Every fake smile I offered her felt like a snarl. The truth behind my words. I could see her cowering. Maybe memories still so close of all that I was capable of. I wanted her to remember. To be reminded of what a broken heart did to me. She stood from her seat next to him, making distance that I didn’t see. She was here with him and that was enough. “Faith…” Just a name. Not anything that I had in her. Just a whisper from her lips that I was refusing to hear.
I turned my gaze to him. Found him like I expected, grinning his triumph, calling me out. His tongue flicking to lick at his lips, suggesting without words all that I knew. Where that tongue had been. The things that he had tasted. I stared at him with fire in
my eyes, willing my gaze to combust him into dust, to let me have that victory at least? But it didn’t happen. His eyes just chilled me, doused any heat I had to burn.
He rose up beside her. Smirking all evil as he slid closer, went to put a possessive arm around her and speak a greeting. “Faith, nice of you to drop by…” His eyebrows were dancing all over his face, so obviously fucking delirious to have me caught in the loop. Knowing the conquests that he had made.
I would’ve gone. I wanted to. That would’ve been the moment that my barriers would truly have been broken. He was mine in that instant. My stake in my grasp before the clear thought had formed, ready to drop him. To end him.
And she moved. As fast as my arm had risen she had shrugged his touch from her shoulders. Glared at him in a tone I had never even managed with my voice. “Spike, don’t touch me.” She looked to me before speaking the next words. Acknowledging that I knew the truth by not censoring her speech. “I told you, don’t ever touch me again.”
I watched the silent exchange just wishing that I could hear it. His eyes were laughing at her, laughing at me. Hers holding firm. Daring him to question her. It was tense. The whole fucking room was tense. Explosive. I was just waiting for someone to light my fuse. Edging closer to a trigger.
He was growling low in his chest, turning from her to face me. Coming a little closer, me willing him on. Come on… push me… just come fucking push me. It could never be wrong if I was reacting to a push.
“Have you come for a taste Slayer?” The words dripped from his lips, coated in poison. So sexual and so wrong.
He was so fucking evil and he was taunting it out of me. I flew at him, gave him what he wanted, what I thought that he needed. I didn’t need wood, I would rip his fucking head clean from his body, make him fucking scream as he realised who he’d asked to dance, what kind of dance I was gonna be teaching him. There would be no harness for my rage. I believed in that. He tried to block me and I pushed right through him, connected hard with his jaw, wiped that fucking smile from his sick and twisted lips, coated them with blood. It looked right, a true reflection. Made him look like the evil bloodsucking scum that he was. He went to game face. So did I.
I let it all show. Every hurt, every pain. I didn’t care that the sick fucker would probably get off on it. I had to show him, had to let him know the crimes that he was gonna pay for.
He ran his tongue out along the busted lip, sneered as he took in the blood. “You like it rough then love? My favourite kind of game…” I swung and missed, his words deflecting my blow. I knew that he couldn’t touch me. It wouldn’t detract from my pleasure at hitting him. I swung again, caught him again. Feeling distant relief with every blow connected. Every time his flesh gave under my fist. Like retribution.
So much I wanted to hurt him, to punish him, but all he would do was fucking laugh. Smirk his amusement. Rising from each attack ready to take more. Encouraging me with words, glowered invitations. I found the gap to slide my foot between his ribs, enjoyed the crunch. Finally smiling my own as his was wiped from his face. As I heard him grunt, finally admit pain. I kicked him again and made him choke up some blood, revelled in what I was doing, how I was feeling. I believed that that moment was gonna be it. That I could end him then. Nothing would stop me. Nothing could stop me.
And then she did. Of course she did.
“Faith no!”
FUCK OFF!!!
How was it that I could still hear her? I didn’t WANT to still hear her! Didn’t my ears get that? Understand that? I had to do this. I wanted to do this. To fuck consequences and reasons, right and wrong. He had hurt me, he had hurt me so fucking bad, and I just wanted to end it. I ripped my eyes from their prize, their prey. Growled my way to face her and took in her form. She looked so damn small. Her arms limp at her sides, not challenging me, just telling me. Imploring me. “Don’t”
I didn’t want to listen to her, to be swayed by her. She had hurt me too, and I hadn’t even started addressing that one yet. Dealing with the pain that finding her here was making me feel. I spat my disgust down at her feet. Looked back at the damaged dead thing down at my boots. “Are you scared I’ll hurt your boy toy B? Damage your ride?”
She looked kinda broken but I didn’t care. I WAS broken. By her. Again. She started to shake her head, back and forth as if that meant anything to me. “No Faith… please…”
“Please? Please what?” I let the volume rise, let my words echo with the revulsion I couldn’t help but feel. “Please don’t see you for the sick fucking piece of shit nothing that you are?”
I was screaming at myself as I was screaming it at her. No Faith. Back away from the scene and shut the fuck up. Don’t push it too far, don’t say things now that you’ll live to regret. But I didn’t heed, I didn’t want to heed. All I wanted to do then was to inflict some pain back. Not consider my actions, make attempts at rational.
I was mad.
As she took a tentative step towards me and raised out her hand I thrust into space and pushed her the fuck back. Away from me. Followed her forwards and pushed her again. Baiting her. Calling her. “Didn’t you hear me B?” I felt my tone as it strained on brittle. So close to breaking, so close to too many emotions begging to be set free. I cornered her close to the wall, gave her no way out, no escape from this moment trapped here with me. I watched her pulling back, eyes glazed with tears which I wanted to see fall. For me. For us. I didn’t want to see her offering touches to calm me when I didn’t want to be calm. I wanted to push her away because I couldn’t bear to watch myself crumble before her. I was fucking breaking for god’s sake… her eyes in my eyes again. Her words in my ears.
“Faith… I…”
“NO!” I wouldn’t let her speak. Couldn’t let her speak. Brought my fist down at the side of her face. Crashing into stone. I wanted to bang my head against it. To soothe the pain.
Everything in the room had my head spinning. Her here, him here. All too much.
I felt defeated, watching everything I’d ever wanted taken from me again. Her in the arms of a vamp. An evil dead fucked up vamp. I let the words ring true from my lips, showed nothing in my eyes except that which I allowed there. No room for silent pleadings, begging her to make it stop. To make me stop. “You disgust me Buffy. You fucking disgust me.”
I let the breath out that being so close to her had made me hold. Tried so hard to release the tension. To step back from her, away from her.
“Faith…” Said with pleading. Falling on deaf ears. “…wait, this isn’t… I wasn’t…”
I interrupted her words and spoke my own instead. Flat and empty. “I know what it is Buffy”. Turned my back on her to walk away.
“No!” And the force of it froze me. Her one word wrapped in so much. So much I wanted to avoid. To dismiss.
“No?”
“This isn’t that, I wasn’t here for that.”
I turned back to face her. I could see her eyes begging, slipping out tears. And I wouldn’t feel it. Refused to let it sway me. Instead I let a fucked up smile rest upon my lips, curled it around all of my words. Slipped my body back close to her space. “‘That’ B? You care to elaborate on the ‘that’?”
I watched her breaking. Satisfied. She had no more words to speak and that was fine with me. There wasn’t anything else that I wanted to hear right then. Could bear to hear. I turned away again. Walked away. Noticed the dead fucker with his gaze wrapped around me. So much delight held in his eyes. He didn‘t heed silent warnings of not wanting to hear. He chose to speak. To invite me again. “I call ‘that’ fucking Faith… hot, dirty, nasty fucking…” I recoiled from his words. Felt them rip at my soul. “…and she loved every single minute of it.”
And I felt myself give in. Heard the curses as they flew from my mouth, felt the speed with which I struck him again. Absolute unleashed fury. I would turn his words to dust, wipe the memory on the breeze. All through me it buzzed, landing again and again, me the slayer, he the vampire. The law of nature urging me on. The call of insanity bringing me closer. I was losing myself in every connection. And then she was at me. Her hands seeking purchase on my body, holding back the arm that was straining to plunge my stake straight through the heart of all that was evil.
Her protecting him?
It was all that it felt like. It was no longer her stopping me, holding me back. It was saving him. Making choices.
“Get the fuck off me B!” I was swinging my arm, surprising her with the force. Feeling the connection as I met her resistance. Knowing that I had struck her and then turning to see.
She was back on her haunches. Her hand was at her face, the blood obvious from between her fingers. I was connecting well. Drawing blood from all quarters. I didn’t mean it, hadn’t meant it, but I couldn’t be sorry. She shouldn’t have been protecting him. It was bullshit. I just stared down at her on the floor. Not trying to get up. To fight back. Not looking to trade me blow for blow.
I could see the danger beginning to dance in her own eyes. Accepting blows was never easy. I knew that. Her body was tense, holding her still. Below me. It made me want to taunt her into action, to keep on the path which would bring her the most pain. I wanted to beat her, to submit her. To take with force all those nasty little things that I had always wanted to take. Wanted to taste. The things that he had tasted.
The energy was coursing through me. My breathing harsh and heavy as we got lost in a stand off. Her eyes and my eyes. I could feel my face finding form. My gaze wandering over hers. Top to bottom. Everything I wanted just laying there before me. Her pupils dilating as the air crackled with charge.
So much I wanted to drop to my knees. To search for salvation in her arms. Lose every harsh reality to the reality of touching her skin. Tasting her lips. Kissing it better. And for a moment then I was lost. Free falling. No one to catch me. Nothing but the reflections I was seeing in her eyes. The same wants? The same needs?
Too much. It really was all too much.
I walked away. Tore myself from her as it felt like she had been torn from me. Went to lose myself in distance between us. She whispered my name but it was all too late. The moment had been diffused. Had just left the pain.
I placed each step so precisely. Didn’t spare a glance back to her, back to him. Back out of the door, and into the night. Into the darkness. It had been so close. Felt so close. Touching me, tearing me. Fuel to my fire. But it hadn’t claimed me. I was still standing. Still me. We were all still standing. I walked in a daze. Heading back towards home but never quite making it. Not ready for rest. To give in on the day. To call quits. I had so much shit to work through, needing anger to unleash it all. To let me scream obscenities at every evil fucker that I could rightfully kill. My muscles finding relief in working my arm. Each dead one down, another breath taken.
If all of evil had shown it’s face tonight I could’ve taken it down and under. Nothing was touching me, coming close to touching me. I was rage, I was pain, I was hurt. And evil collected the payoff. Not in the way that it wanted, not with me crawling back to admit failure at it’s door… but by staying strong. Slaying each and every fucker that got in my face. That dared show it’s face.
I worked and I worked intent on my goals. Nothing in mind accept utilising my pain. Sharing my hurt. Kept going till my body was tiring with the force of each fight. Numbers not mattering, I went after them all. Working my way from the bottom up. I dusted the stragglers and then went for the nests. Kamikaze slaying. I was untouchable. And then it began. When I reached the top. The talk of what was coming. Whispers being spoken in threats and in promises.
‘You can slay us, but we will rise… all of the fallen shall rise…’
Over and over again. Even when the joy of losing myself to the rage was being dulled by my need to rest, I carried on. New things taking precedence over my feelings. My pain. This was my job. I was good at my job. I protected people. I wanted to save the world.
I couldn’t lose sight of the threat that was approaching behind the sight of Buffy. I couldn’t screw up again.
I beat on them harder, prolonged their pain until their mouths flowed with words. Words spat out between teeth and blood. Offered as a last plea. ‘They want the witch…’
I fought hard for who? For what? For why? Went through the five torture groups and added some of my own. My body was beyond aching. Almost as worn as the last one standing in front of me. No longer bearing fangs, hardly wearing a face. I twisted my knife deep into his gut. Again. Twisting through old wounds, sliding it deeper. Almost therapeutic. The gargling sounds as the blood flooded his vocal chords. It was almost a shame that he couldn’t drown in it. Die from it.
I asked him again, demanded again, offered him more. “Why the fuck do they want the witch!?”
I would do anything to stop them from getting their hands on Tara. From ever touching her. I lost my hand as I buried the hilt somewhere deep inside of him. Watched his eyes bulge. His mouth open. “They need the witch for the dark magics… to perform the dark magics…” He went to stop, I let my other hand find the remnants of his face, brought it back to me. Urged him on with a squeeze. “…to release it… they need her to release it.”
I pulled my knife back hard, watched him crumple to the ground. I had one word left. “Who?”
The thing plead it’s ignorance through anything else that I had to offer. In the end gave me nothing to do but release him from his agony. Turn him to dust. I almost collapsed as he drifted away from me, as there was nothing left to keep me standing. To keep me fighting.
I think I sighed some. Maybe cried some. Made myself find the strength to return to her house. Not for her, for duty. To speak of what I knew. To tell them that it wasn’t Tara, it was Willow. All of it was about Willow.
The dawn was breaking as I turned into her road, wearily forcing each foot one in front of the other. Drawing glances from early morning paper boys, probably wondering if Halloween had come early. If this was a costume. I was caked in so much shit that I would have to soak in a bath for hours. Blood and dust. Sweat and tears.
I noted Cordy’s car in the drive. Xanders car still in the drive. For a moment the whole world turned into panic. My stomach dropping even further to the floor, paralysed by the thought that something had happened, that whilst I was away at play the beast had come back. Any knowledge I had garnered too late to help.
I forced myself to go to the door, make myself forget thoughts of Buffy. Loudly pounding, not having to wait for an answer.
“Faith… my god, what happened, where were you? We’ve been worried sick…”
Worried sick? It threw me for a moment. I hadn’t even considered that people would worry when I didn’t go home. I’m a big girl, I stay out sometimes. I followed Willow in. My eyes adjusting to the light of the room, all the anxious glances firmly fixed on me. I scanned them all. Took her in. I didn’t hold her gaze though, just registered the split lip, the slight bruising. Turned my head from hers. I couldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t. I would hold my eyes steady, away from her.
Cordy stepped forwards and gave me one hell of a glare. Gave my eyes no choice but to rest upon her. “Jesus Faith, you could’ve called!”
“Called? Since when?” I hadn’t been making excuses for staying out at night since grade school. Wouldn’t be starting now.
“Since Buffy said you had gone mad and ran off into the night! We were worried, I was worried.” I heard the concern but could only focus on the first part. That part had made me smile. A real fucking sweet smile. Buffy had the audacity to say that I had gone mad? I thought I had done well to reel it in. “That’s the thing about B though ain’t it Cor?” I paused to let her appreciate my answer. Let them all appreciate it. “She talks a pile of shit.”
If the room was tense before that then I had just added a whole lot more. People clearing their throats as if that could ever cover it. Make it go away. The ex demon chick’s voice rang out clear as day. Practically echoed in the silence. “You did look slightly psychotic when you called by earlier… it’s only fair that if Buffy saw you she would think that you were mad.”
I glared at her. Caused Xander to put his arm around her, as if for protection. It was bullshit! I hadn’t done anything wrong! It had made me thrust my eyes back to Buffy, force myself inside of her gaze. “Did you tell them why I went ‘mad’ B?” She looked fearful, scared. I felt dangerous and angry. “Did ya tell them what sent Faith all whacko this time?”
“Faith? Stop…” Tara’s words floated across the room. Made me breathe and turn to face her. To take in Dawn with eyes wide and staring. The geek boy. All of them. Reminded me that this wasn’t the time, the place. Brought my focus back to why I was here. Not for her. For them. For duty.
I turned my back on the cowardly slayer. Spoke instead to the witch. To both of them. Let my eyes encompass everyone as I spared no details on where I had been all night, what I had been doing. The evil I had killed. The things I had found. I told them of the vampires and their words. About wanting the witch for dark magic, to use her for bringing back the… the ‘whatever’? I didn’t know. I did know they wouldn’t be getting the witches though. Either of them.
They made a good audience. Listening intently, gasps of worry at the points when I spoke of words. Willow and Tara clinging to each other as if for dear life. When I mentioned the magics, that that was what this was all about… getting Willow to fall, to go to the darkside… then the redhead had crumbled. Sank back into the sofa shaking her head. Smacked down by the guilt of the knowledge that her badness was causing the evil. I felt for her, I truly fucking felt for her.
It left the room no longer tense but terrified. Silent because of the worry. The fear.
I waited barely minutes before I made my call to leave. Looking to Cordy with damn near pleading in my eyes. “How about you take me home? If we’re gonna hunt this evil thing down, I’m gonna need to sleep for at least a week first.”
She nodded agreement, rose up to leave with me. It’s when her words came. Buffy’s. “We’ll all meet at the shop later… make a plan, I’ll put that call through to Giles…”
I know she was speaking to me, but there was no way that I could listen or look. I just didn’t want to hear her. Hear excuses. Reasons which wouldn’t take the pain away. I just wanted out of there then. I’d think about later… well, later.
I let Cordy’s voice fill the gaps all the way home. Chatter of all sorts, nothing too close to meaning anything. She kept looking like maybe she was checking to see that I’d really not gone mad, that Buffy WAS talking shit, but I couldn’t be assed to reassure her. I know I looked kinda funky covered in all that crap, my eyes hiding behind the mask which I was keeping firmly fixed in place. But I didn’t care.
I stalked into the apartment, grabbed the phone and headed for my room.
“Faith? Where are you going..? Don’t you want to talk?”
“No.” I slammed shut the door and slipped onto bed. Called forth the dial tone on the handset. I did want to talk, but I wanted to talk to Angel. He believed in me and I trusted him. It was just what I needed. Trust and belief.
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