POV Tara
I watch them all as they lark about, chittering and chattering, covering all the worry with banter and jokes, half smiles replacing frowns, merriment replacing terror. I look at it all and I feel the falseness. The lie. See the cracks in the charade and wonder when it’s all gonna come tearing down around us.
Another big bad. Another big nasty. And why can’t apocalypses ever be small and cute? It would make a nice change. A pleasant alternative.
Willow is going crazy with the horror of the truth of this latest in a long line of resident evils. The belief that she has provoked it, that her hand to the dark side was what brought forth whatever it is that we are dealing with. It keeps her eyes bloodshot with the exhaustion of too much to think about. To worry about. Even my touches not seeming to soothe the nervous babble which runs from her mouth each time she opens it. It’s all nonsense. All anything but what she really feels.
Buffy is the same. Kitted out in training gear of white vest and grey pants. Bouncing around the shop on the soles of her feet, this way, that way. Never stopping still. Over zealous laughter at all of Xander’s jokes. I don’t even know which has her more hyped. The thought of the big nasty, or the thought of Faith.
I haven’t a clue what has happened there. What took place in the crypt. All I do know is that Buffy has a split lip and Faith had a face like boiling thunder. I wonder if they..? Rumbled? Is that what they call it? It’s just so far away from everything that we all need right now. We need to pull together. To trust each other. To believe.
Xander isn’t too bad. He keeps the cover of strength much better then the rest of us. Watching over each of his girls. All of us falling under his wings of protection. He stands firm and keeps his gaze wandering the shop, resting on Willow, slight flashes of worry… resting on Buffy, a silly face and a laugh, for Anya he has winks and hugs filled with love. And for Dawn he has encouragement, words which assure her that no more bad stuff is gonna happen, or his name just isn’t Xander Harris!
I wish I could be so sure. I think I believe the opposite, that lots more bad stuff is gonna happen. I can feel it. The expectancy in the air. I think we all feel it.
When I see Xander look to me and catch my eyes in understanding, then I know it for sure. He doesn’t seek to fool me with faces and jokes, he just looks at me and says ‘yeah, I get it… but lets try and fool the girls.’ He says it all with his eyes, all in a look.
And I do go along with it. Let myself get swept up in the pretence of easy. Let myself make assurances to them too. ‘We can do this, we always do this. It will all be ok.’ Smiled along as smiles were given to me, fooled myself in the belief that I couldn’t see the truth, feel the truth. For the moment it is easier then dealing. Acknowledging just how scary this is. When it was about me I was terrified, and now that it’s about Willow? I don’t have the words. It makes me want to hide under my covers, to lock the closet and go back to a time when monsters only existed in there. Not in the real world. Not in my world.
My thoughts are shattered as the front door opens, bringing about the familiar sounds of the tinkling bell. It’s Andrew, back from the store, carrying coffees and cakes and all the things that Xander used to have to carry. He doesn’t mind though, I think he just likes having found a place where he almost fits in. I don’t know how he’ll cope when the bad guys come, he doesn’t seem big with the back bone… but he’ll make it through. As long as he keeps on bringing the cakes then he’ll manage just fine.
“I got all the different donuts but I couldn’t remember how you all wanted the coffee… so I bought lots…” as he speaks the door opens again, Cordy coming through looking harassed balancing cups, and Faith just after. Not looking anything other then… pissed? She has cups too, lots of cups. Also dark glasses, wrapped around her eyes in what I assume is an attempt to wrap up her emotions.
I want to go to her. To give her my arms as way of apology. To hold her close and tell her everything that I know. All of it. That yes Buffy was with Spike… but more than that. My take on the reasons… my knowledge of the truth of what Buffy has been feeling. I know that I won’t go to her though. She looks about as approachable as a speeding freight train and I fear for the safety of anyone that does dare to stand on her tracks.
The tension that descends over the room as she arrives is palpable. You can taste it, feel it. The banter stopping to leave only the room for silence. For eyes turning to see, all looking at the new comers, everyone trying to work out what is going on. What’s happened now?
When Faith had left the house this morning it was the signal for Buffy to go to her room. To stay there as well. She resisted all attempts at talking, at my questions whispered through the door. I worry at her keeping it inside, but then sometimes I feel like I worry at everything. We’ll probably beat down the badness and I’ll still be foiled by a monster sized ulcer. It’s the hazardous side of caring.
Cordy takes charge of handing around the drinks, and the cakes become a free for all. Even the nerves not stopping us from filling up on the sugary goodness. It could be a long night, lots of them. It’s the way that research usually works out. The only one who doesn’t choose to eat is Faith, I watch her cajoled by Cordelia, but she refuses all suggestions. Stays back from all of us. On the periphery, perhaps keeping a safe distance?
In the way that it is easy to see when someone’s gaze is trapped on somebody else, I’m also finding it easy to see the firmness with which Buffy is keeping her gaze so far away from Faith. Her voice still demanding that false chipper tone, all perky and light. Yet her shoulders straining, reaching down for the floor. The split in her lip letting us all know that the smile could never be that real. That painless.
No. She keeps her eyes away and keeps on playing the game. ‘This is what happiness sounds like.’ I want to stop her, to tell her that she doesn’t have to pretend anymore… we can all see. She isn’t fooling us. But again I don’t. I sip on my coffee, I nibble at my cake, and I wait for the bad stuff to begin. The dusty tomes pulled off of shelves, so many words that they all start blurring. The insanity of looking for something which we know nothing about.
The crumbs are cleared away and business is approached. The seating plan so much different than normal. But then this is everything but normal. I slide my way next to Willow, it’s my place. Xander and Anya pairing up, but no one else seeming to know where they fit, what to do. The awkwardness apparent as we wait for Faith to make her move, to assign herself a place. Whether she’ll come back into the fold, or whether whatever has happened with Buffy will keep her firmly at the side.
I’m not the only one that breathes a sigh of relief as she finally takes a seat. Throws herself there as if it pains her to do so. I catch Cordy’s breath too, Dawn’s almost sigh of relief. It does nothing to ease the tension, but it assures us that she is still in the fight. So much more than just another slayer on board. I know she won’t realise it, would probably choke on her laughter if I told her it, but it has been she that has kept us together these last weeks.
Has brought Buffy back to us. Saved Willow. Saved me. Probably saved Dawn too. She’s been our glue girl and she doesn’t even realise it. Too trapped by the negative to ever see how positively we view her.
The flash of pain was so obvious when she returned to us this morning, when she heard concern that we thought she had flipped. Become ‘unstable’ again. Buffy was wrong to lead us that way, and we were wrong for doubting Faith so easily. It wasn’t because we were scared for us though, and that is what she doesn’t see. It was that we were scared for her, that we like her. We don’t want her to fall.
It’s hard to concentrate on the words that Buffy is speaking, the order that she is trying to form, anything she has to say that tells us all nothing. We don’t know what we’re facing, we don’t know why. All we do know is who it wants, not even really what for. It’s all just a question and none of us here have the answer. It provokes talk of Giles, all of us agreeing that we need the help. Desperately need some help.
Of course it is Buffy that makes the call, not worried at difference in time. Just distance, how soon he can be here. She flies through the pleasantries, apologies for waking him, approaches as soon as she can the problems that we face.
“No Giles, we don’t know… all we have is that it wants Willow, and that it needs a portal open.”
Her voice sounded weary as she spoke, the perkiness all but gone as she told all that we know to her former watcher. Her hand moving fast as she tried to keep notes of the things that he told her, names of books to look in… possible names of possible demons that could possibly be wanting to open portals. It was a long list.
We all grabbed onto it as soon as she sat back down. Even Andrew taking a peek as if he would ever know the name of our tormentor. Trying to wrap our tongues around the pronunciation of so many different foes we could maybe be expecting to come up against.
“Is anyone else wondering if this isn’t the most pointless thing we’ve faced since…” Xander had spoken, his face frozen now as he tried to find something mundane enough to make a comparison.
“Since the time we spent fourteen hours memorising the words for that darn urn of Osiris spell?” Anya’s eyes were sincere with the memory of that endless night. Willow standing guard as we went over and over the spell, learning our parts, not daring to take a break and admit defeat. “Because that had a similar sense of pointlessness I think… definitely as tiresome.”
I wanted to agree but dared not. Willow tensing at my side was enough to let me know that she certainly saw things differently. “Sorry Anya, but to me it seemed most pointful, like saving a friends life.”
“Yes, but technically she was in heaven… that deems it pointless in retrospect, doesn’t it Xander?” She was beaming with the pride in her logic, waiting for the pat on the head and agreement from her love. He could only shake his head though, cast his eyes between the two, trying to work out where he stood the best chance of survival.
Buffy saved him. “I’m gonna go with Wills, it WAS pointful... huge with the plus points, great to be back…” She sought out Willow’s eyes and offered sincerity. Slid straight back into business mode. “…now can we move on? I know it’s dull, I appreciate the boringness… but it’s what we do. Now lets do it.”
The false chipper was back there and it brought about a group sigh, a shared weariness. Also hands which reached for books, and eyes that searched for answers. That didn’t stop searching for answers even as our progress remained at a stand still. Silence looming except for the odd comparison of random facts, which demons ate a solid diet of viscera, compared to those which favoured the sucking of the bone marrow.
Not surprisingly it was Anya who filled in most of the blanks, could shed most light on the habits of even the most obscene species of demon. Unfortunately she couldn’t throw light on what we needed. Her own searches into the links she hadn’t severed proving no help to any of us. It seemed that Hallie had disappeared and no one else was daring to speak of anything that they might know. Xander’s threatening form doing nothing to intimidate. So far the only information we had, had come from Faith’s super slaying of last night. Whatever happenned in the crypt sending her off on a one woman mission of destruction. Vampires being the ones that had offered up the only words we knew.
And I wasn’t the only one having that thought. Considering the vampires. Maybe I would’ve asked the question myself if I hadn’t had been suspecting the consequences. Hadn’t understood the unspoken tension which sat between the slayers. Dawn was innocent of it all, was the one to voice the obvious.
“Hey, if it was the vamps that Faith beat the answers out of, then why don’t we get Spike? Surely he can help out?”
Her words seemed to hang in the air for an age until they fell to the floor heavy with the weight. Buffy swinging to face Faith, the shock of the simple question plain to see in her eyes. What was in Faith’s eyes was anyone’s guess, the darkened void she had on show being all that she would allow us to see. Her words spoke volumes though. Pronounced with enough venom to send Buffy back in her chair. Recoiling from all of the pain that she had caused.
“If that fucker comes here then I’m gone.” Words pointed in one direction. Aimed one way. “I see him? I’ll kill him, and then I’m gone.”
I didn’t doubt her for a second. I don’t think any of us did. It brought confusion. No understanding. Xander trying to slice the tension with his easy ways. Smiling face. “Hey, slow down there slay girl, the dead guys a jerk, I get that… he helps out though, doesn’t mean we like him, but he gets a free pass.”
The glasses didn’t cover her sneer. Her hatred of the secret facts. “Yeah? A free pass?” She almost growled it, her attention drawn back to Buffy. She was inching forwards in her chair, shoulders straining as she leant across the table, only Cordy’s arm seeming able to hold her back. You could see her jump with surprise as she felt the touch, swinging her head back to her friend, exhaling a sigh of frustration. “Fuck it, this is bullshit…”
Her chair slammed against the floor with the force of her rising, the table shaking as she pushed her way back. I thought that all of our attention was drawn there, waiting to see, straining to see. I almost missed the slightly yelped “Oh!” at my side, couldn’t miss Willow’s hand as it clenched around my thigh. My eyes flying to hers, seeing the realisation. Her mouth slowly opening, barely whispering. “A free pass?”
And then the pools of green encasing Buffy, looking for confirmation, for a rebuttal, for anything but the truth of what she was seeing. “Buffy..?”
But Buffy wasn’t hearing. Her own eyes locked so solidly on the form of the fleeing slayer. Her mouth set in a firm grimace, finally opening to whisper a plea. “Wait…” I turned to see the non response, the feet still walking, ears not hearing. It made the volume rise some, forced her to listen. “…Faith, I said wait… please?”
So achingly raw. You would have to be dead to disregard the depth of feeling between the two of them. Even now the air is coated in it. The pain. Absolute naked pain.
The table remained quiet. Willow’s fingers still gripping onto me, no one’s eyes knowing where to go, what to do, where to focus to find the sense. It took an eternity for her to turn back to us. Silent minutes spent with her own demons, perhaps fighting the desire to flee, to leave all the hurt behind. And the words when they came were not so much wrapped in rage anymore, just desolation. As if she too just wanted to understand. To ask why the hell this was all happening. “What am I waiting for B?” Her breath exhaled in a sigh to the heavens. “Just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to be waiting for?”
“The truth.”
It span me around again. The truth? Here? Now? I stared my puzzlement at her, watched as she ignored it, kept all that she had, pointed at Faith.
And as HER mouth mimicked Buffy’s. Silence kept, but the words easy to see as they crossed her lips. ‘The truth?’ it was like it drew her back, slowly but surely, as if she had to hear it no matter how much it hurt. Like she needed to hear it.
No one was daring to move, all caught up in the spell of the moment. Following the scenes as if watching a play. A tragedy in motion. Their eyes all falling on the once great leader as she took up her place to speak, her voice not strong with leadership now, instead meek in the face of her secrets. Her hands were wringing in front of her body, all of it so obviously difficult to do. I sought out her eyes, gave all that I could, a small smile, a promise to be there when she needed me. She closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath and forced it out.
“Guys… right, the truth…”
I still couldn’t believe that she was doing this, that she should do this. I wondered at how she would phrase it, how she could ever coat it in anything to make it better. She didn’t try. I guess she knew.
“…I’ve been…” She let out a sigh, so tense with having speak. “…oh god…” The pain slid across her face. The disgust and the shame. “…I’ve been sleeping with Spike.”
And what is more quiet than silence? Because the room was so much more than simple silence. It was the kind of quiet that lets everything be heard, reactions able to be seen so soon before they are spoken, before they are shouted. Hurled across the room in indignation and accusation.
“You what? With Spike?” Xander’s eyes looked as if they wanted to fall from his head, to bulge from his skull and hide from the truth.
“Sleeping… she said sleeping, I think she means that she’s been screwing Spike.” Anya appeared joyful at setting him straight, her face taking a moment to catch up on her words. And then even she managed shock. Distaste. “You!? And the vampire?” And then her head was shaking, as bemused as all of us.
“Dawnie?” Buffy had taken her gaze back to her sister. Had seen the tears which were plainly running down her face. Could now see the anger of youth that was finding a place there.
“No Buffy… I thought I was wrong… I thought I did something so bad to make you hate being back.” She wiped her arm viciously across her eyes, banishing tears. “But it wasn’t me… it was YOU! You’re wrong!”
Dawn may have banished her tears but Buffy was letting hers flow. No attempt to hide them, there was nothing left to hide anymore. The truth was out for better or for worse. Her friends knew now. All she could do was await their judgement. I looked up as Willow’s hand went from my leg, waited to see what she would say. She glanced first at Faith, still standing away, offered an understanding gaze. And then the eyes trained on Buffy. Her best friend. She voiced the question for everyone. For all of us. “Why… I just don’t get… with the why?”
It brought more emptiness. More minutes stretching by unfilled. All of us watching, witnessing as she strained to keep it together, to find form for words that she didn’t want to speak. Barely understood for herself. “I can’t… it was…” She looked again to me, and I nodded softly in response. She could do this. “…I didn’t want to do it…”
Faith’s harsh laughter of reproach rang through the room. “Didn’t want to B?… And there was me thinking that the dead fucker couldn’t touch you unless you wanted him to?” She stalked her way closer to the group, my skin raising as the electricity crept along it. The charge. “I thought he was chipped and neutered… I guess I was wrong.”
“No, he is… chipped. It’s me…” She was staring her down. Only speaking to the one now, we could still all hear, but the words were only meant for Faith. “…I came back… wrong? Different… I don’t know what, why… he just…” Her arms crept around her sides as if to comfort herself. Draw strength from herself. “…he can hurt me.”
Willow jumped on the bandwagon before I could stop her. “He can hurt you and you didn’t tell us?! You kept that from us?” Her tone was drenched in confusion, her eyes darting to all of us, looking for anyone to fill the blanks, right the wrongs. “This is all wrong Buffy, I know things have been tough… but this? This is wrong.”
She didn’t need to tell her. Inside I was dying to go to her, to encase her in my hold and beat back the troops. Her eyes were stained with the pain, and no one was seeing it, not one of them daring to look beyond their own shock and disgust to see how much Buffy had for herself. She had the most. Had been living with it for months.
“I’m sorry Wills, all of you…” Her gaze flitted through each of us, searching for any sign of acknowledgement. Not going so far as to reach Faith, perhaps knowing she would get nothing she needed from there. “…I lied to you all and I’m sorry, I can’t… I wish I could tell you why I did it… the things which made me do it…I know it won’t change anything. What I did? Sleeping with Spike… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did it, and I’m sorry I lied.”
“Rousing speech B, you expecting applause?” The tone of her voice broke the solitude of the moment. Her words demanding that Buffy give some attention her way. The slow hand clap mocking all that she said.
“Faith…”
“Save it, don’t wanna hear it.” She dismissed it with a turn of her head. Focused the reflection of her glasses back on the group. Did something I didn’t expect, would never expect. She took charge, dismissed the tension of the emotions and refocused direction. “Anyone else ready to quit the caring sharing session and get on with the important stuff?”
At first no one answered. Not sure in the change. If they were ready to move on, had finished with the crucifixion. It urged her to speak more. “Oh for fucks sake guys, so B’s got an undead itch? Nothing new there…” She walked around the table and came next to Dawn. Ruffled the hair on her head and showed her a small smile. “…now I’m more interested in the apocalyptic shit, the crap that actually means anything.”
I didn’t know why she was doing it, how she was doing it. If she was protecting Buffy or waiting for her own moment to attack. Whatever the reason was, her tone made it okay to back off. For Buffy to sit back in her chair and look shell shocked and lost. The rest of us grasping again for books, for the closest thing to normality. I knew this wasn’t over. There was going to be huge ramifications with all that Buffy had said. As pieces are fixed together. As they realise that all the time she spent away from us was time spent with him. Sleeping with him. I had to admire her honesty, but I certainly didn’t envy her.
No one looked to her. Not castrating her from the group, she is still the slayer, but warmth wasn’t being offered. Facts were being spoken in monotone… ideas bantered without the jest. No one wanting to say anything that could push the moment somewhere harsh. It eventually drove her from us. Leaving the circle of research to flee for the training room. A croaked whisper of her intention, but nothing in return. I tried to smile, to assure… but it didn’t go in. Her eyes were showing the steel of the weeks gone by, everything being locked away to keep from hurting too much. From feeling too much.
I let my eyes fall to Faith, never knowing where her own eyes were, what they were seeing. I wanted to urge her on to go to her, to start finding the place where they could begin to make it better. To repair all the damage done, from forever and now. I couldn’t though, I didn’t even know if that place existed anymore.
I lost the thoughts in books, the dusty tomes losing dust but still not giving up answers. Watching as the troops began to fall. Andrew leaving not long after Buffy. Dawn’s yawns provoking Xander to call time. To take the girl home with him and Anya. Assuring that he would take care of her. Finding hugs for Willow. A moments word with Cordy. Me and then Faith. He looked uncertain what to say to her, what words made sense. In the end they were perfect. What she needed to hear. “Faith, about the free pass?”
Her attention was drawn, her stance tense as she waited.
“Forget it, kill him… maybe then we can all applaud.”
She didn’t speak, just nodded her head. Kept in the words she wanted to say.
It left just the four of us up on top deck. Three of us again burying ourselves in a need to find answers. Faith losing herself in whatever places her mind was taking her to. I watched her often, distraction from the endless demons and random facts. No matter how hard she was trying her gaze kept betraying the truth. Her truth. She was still being drawn there, to the place that Buffy was. Cracking her knuckles, tapping her feet. No stillness about her.
For more then hour I waited to see which way it would go. Whether she’d give in, whether she would hold firm. I couldn’t tear my eyes away in the seconds proceeding the moment that I would get my answer. I swear her body was almost humming with the energy. And then pulling herself up, not even glancing at us, no words in explanation needed. Just her back as we watched it go to the door, our gazes all drawn and then falling on each other.
“That could be dangerous.” Cordy stated the obvious.
“You think we should go down there..?”
“No.” I hoped it was the right choice, the correct way to go. “It’ll be okay… just leave them to it.” I watched their uncertain glances, tried again. “If we hear anything loud or scary we’ll go… but until then lets just let them get on with it. Give them a chance?”
They sighed agreement. Books still being held but no more desire to read them. We sat in tense silence and we waited. Ears strained, just waiting for the call. I prayed we wouldn’t have to move. That somewhere in there they could start to find that place.
Andrew walked solemnly on his path to the basement. Head hung low, no sign of fight anywhere in him. He had no clue. No idea of how the forces of good and evil were right at that moment fighting for his very soul. His conscience bearing the words of good… imploring that he turn from the road. Go back to the place that he had just left and tell them everything that he knew. To work on the right side. The light side.
His survival instinct though was bringing the promise of the darkness. The fear snaking tightly across his chest, strangling his breaths, making him hyperventilate with the knowledge of all that Warren could do to him. What the ‘thing’ could do to him. The tales were burned into his ears, the screaming terrorising him at night, so as he knew not a minutes rest.
Warren had allowed him a glimpse into the future, the happenings that would come to pass once the portal was opened. How it would burst forth. Would feed upon every solid ounce of evil present in the world. Every bad deed, every bad thought. Sucked up and used, turned into power. He had trembled as Warren had held him steady in his vision, kept his eyes trained on the sights of death, of pain, of destruction. The insanity as people’s souls were sucked from their form, burning from the inside out, nothing left but shells. Shells for demons. All of the ones that had fallen, been sucked into the abyss, given a chance to return. To reinhabit that which had been lost.
A world for evil. For evil and for Warren.
Andrew had seen it all, had heard it all. It gave power to the words of the darkness, forced his conscience into a silent whisper. Nothing heard. Nothing listened to. It made him quicken his pace now, to drop his head and make his way the only way he knew. The place he had to go.
He gave the firm solid knock when he arrived that Warren commanded. He couldn’t stand weakness, timidity. His men were warriors. He demanded it. Andrew tried his best to straighten his shoulders as the door drew back, to meet Johnathan’s eyes steadily, not betraying any thought other than those which were allowed.
“He’s waiting for you.”
No hello, no friendly greeting. No room for pleasant anymore. Both of them had learnt not to believe in pleasant. He kept his eyes fixed as he went to his leader. Not letting them flick to the left. To witness the form of the demon falling limp in her binds. No spirit left to argue, to demand release. To demand anything.
Andrew had seen what Warren had done to her. Another thing that he had commanded. Both of the minions forced to watch as he took the ultimate evil delight in degrading her to the full. Her unable to fight him off, unable to stop him, and finally unable to protest. He had watched and held back the tears. Warriors didn’t cry. They watched and they remembered, and they learnt to do everything that they were told. They learnt fear.
“Andrew, you return.”
He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. Warren would tell him when to speak. He just lowered his form, made himself less. Awaited his time.
“We wondered how long you would be… whether you would come back at all, Johnathan even wondered that you might not be thinking about jumping ship…”
He started to tremble lightly. Prayed that his eyes would stay steady. That his weakness wasn’t on show.
“…but I assured him no, that even you weren’t that stupid, or that ready to die.” Warren smiled his sickly smile. What used to be a smile of camaraderie, of friendship, now nothing more than a see through mask. It did nothing to coat the evil inside, if anything it intensified it. Made him appear more wicked, more depraved. “So how was your day? Full of juice and cookies?”
Andrew knew that he was mocking him. Making fun of the nice things he had said about there, the way that they treated him. He wanted to nod his head, wanted to say yes, lots of juice, lots of cookies… but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. His gaze flicked quickly to the left, to the demon. Resigned his tone. “No… not juice, I… I found the weakness.”
It made Warren stand to attention, made him swing his eyes to encompass Johnathan. “You found a weakness?!” The excitement tried hard to drown out the sound of insanity but it came nowhere close. The manic eyes lighting with approval, his gaze jumping between his minions as he fought hard to keep the delight from flooring him where he stood. He started pacing, rambling nonsense. Placating a master that neither of the other boys could see.
When his command returned to Andrew he had snuck back to calm, still eager but restrained, as if the minutes with the voices had refocused his thoughts. “Tell me, tell me it all.”
The boy wondered where to start, how to begin to explain that which he had only understood glances of… the tension, the hurt. “It’s the slayers… I think they’re… kinda into each other.”
“Into each other?”
“Like… liking each other, in ‘that’ way.”
For a moment it was like a hush descended, not evil hush, just the silence as their minds went to places that the thought of ‘that’ way could produce. Just horny boys. But then just as fast, back to an evil smirk. A degrading grin. “Well isn’t that just beautiful! Although…” Warren turned his eyes back on Andrew, sought more. “…weakness? How?”
“It’s Buffy… she’s been…” He paused, the last moment of uncertainty. The moment before he turned traitor. “…she’s been sleeping with Spike.” And then said, the deed done, the weakness revealed.
“Spike? Vampire Spike?” Warren was having as hard a time as anyone believing the words. The absurdity. “Buffybot banging Spike?”
“I know, everyone’s having a really hard time dealing…”
But Warren was lost to them. Engaged in his own thoughts. His own memories. Of chips that went beep and stopped evil being done. His mouth curving as it tasted the possibilities, finding a full on smile as he realised the true beauty. The availability of a brand new secret weapon. His gaze turned to the demon chained to the wall. No thought given to the things that he had put her through, the pleasure he had taken there. All that he had for her was disgust, disapproval of the weakness he had found in her. He couldn’t stand weakness, wouldn’t stand for it.
“So the slayers are into each other, but Buffy has been screwing the vampire?” He watched and laughed as Andrew nodded. “I think I need to see the vampire.”
“You… you need to see Spike?”
“I do, it seems we could be friends. For a while.”
Andrew tried to make his mind follow the same path. To understand that which he had unleashed. He had thought that Warren would exploit the slayers, maybe try to lure Faith into evil… he had heard of her past. He knew the implications. That she could maybe be turned. But Spike? “I don’t understand… why Spike?”
“He knows the slayer, he sleeps with the slayer, he has access to her friends… to the witches. If I take away the pesky chip for him, then he owes me, can deliver what we need. What I need. And if I tempt him with the power to be rid of the other one..? His competition..?”
And then it all made sense. The way that Spike could be used. Andrew had seen how trusting Tara was, how keen she was to help, to be there… he understood how easily Spike could exploit that. He wanted to take it back, to unsay words. In that moment he saw again the vision of all that Warren had shown him, felt the fear, the dread. Trembled down to his bones. His eyes met his leader’s, and for a second he couldn’t hide it, it all shone too bright.
“Johnathan?” The voice of evil was low, but intent. His gaze not moving from Andrew.
“Yes master?”
“Bind him.”
“Bind him? Andrew?”
“Yes Andrew…” His eyes narrowed on their prey. “…I see some regret, I wouldn’t want him making any life ending decisions.” He stroked the boys face, offered a gentle touch. “This is for your own good Andrew.”
He turned slowly away from him, tossing words over his shoulder. “And Johnathan? Make sure it’s tight.”
“Master… what? Where are you going?”
“Where am I going?” Warren laughed the evil laugh that he had so long practiced to perfection “I’m going to make friends with the vampire.”
The sound of the laugher echoed it’s way through the room long after their leader had left, kept Johnathan intent on his task even as it pained him to perform it. To bind his friend. His comrade. Once they had planned to rule the world together. Now he suspected that all they would ever get to do was to die together. He executed the simple spell to create the ties which would hold his friend firmly in place. Silenced his words to save his own ears the pain, to protect his mind from his conscience. Nothing to make him waver from the path. He refused to see Andrew’s tears. Wouldn’t look. Because all the time that he looked at him, then he could see the horror again, hear the screams. The vision of all that was to come.
Andrew didn’t try to hold back his tears anymore. There was no point. He wasn’t a warrior, he was a failure. He had had his chance on the path and he had walked the wrong way. Chosen the wrong destination. All that he could do now was to watch and to wait. Aware of what was coming, and now seemingly powerless to stop it. Not a champion, not a hero. Just a boy. A boy who felt like he was going to die.
Chapter 19
I came down here to get away, to escape from the looks and the sounds of disgust, to hide from the hurt and the pain. All of them gifts that I have given. Death may have been my first gift, but it turns out that I had so much more to offer, slipping right back into the spirit of giving. Not a thing to impart though aside from the bad stuff. I just can’t stop myself. It seems like since I have been back it’s all that I have done, all that I can do. And I tried different, I swear I did. I tried to make the smiles true and the feelings mean something, mean anything… to even touch the sides, but everything I have done? All the things I have tried? It’s all turned to crap.
This isn’t self pity, I don’t pity myself. I have too much pity for those that I have let down to care for myself. I care about the ones that I was supposed to be there for. Strong Buffy, slayer Buffy. Always there to save the day. Only I forgot about days, about nights. I forgot about everything that mattered, everything that meant anything to me.
It all got lost, left in the ground. My gravestone the reminder of where it all lay.
I went back there so many times at first. With my friends, and then on my own. Secret visits to try and claim back that what was mine. Not life, Willow had taken care of that one for me. But love. I just wanted to feel my heart beat. To look into eyes that were imploring me to feel for them, and have something more to offer them, other than an empty shell. Not rotten to the core, just nothing at the core. A numbness which consumed me like nothing before. I wanted to fight it, to conquer it, but I had no fight left in me. I had fought my last battle. I had won for gods sake. And nothing I tried, nothing I did, none of it could make being back stop feeling like anything other than losing.
So I gave up.
It’s one reason to hate myself. Of all of the things that I have done, that has to rank up there with the best. Me. I gave up. I looked at it all, I felt the pain of it all… and I pushed it away. I didn’t go on to fight the good fight, I didn’t tell those that mattered all that I wasn’t feeling. I just let it slip away. Watched it all from a distance without even a tear in my eye. Not even enough left to feel regret. I couldn’t feel life, so I wouldn’t live life. I would function. ‘Work, rest, and slay’. It would be my motto, the thing to get me through the nights I couldn’t sleep for fear of waking, the countdown of the seconds until I would find peace again. I knew it would come for me… it had called for me twice already, and they say that the third time’s a charm.
It charmed me. It had so much to offer. The kind of peace I had only ever found in my mothers arms. Arms that were always safe, always there to protect me, the arms where I could just be a girl. Always just Buffy. And that is what heaven felt like. To me it was the closest place to home.
When I think back now, pre the second death, I can pin point the beginning of the numbness. The beginning of the end. Finding mom had dulled my heartbeat like nothing before. More than Angel, more then losing the love of my life. I lost my mother. My mommy. My tether to a reality that I longed to cling on to. The white picket fences from my youth, the things that I was giving up on in my future.
That was the first minute I really learnt to be numb. Not a second to grieve, no time to feel. Just on with the next thing, the big bad. Holding together a sister, a family. A whole world. Sacrificing my self long before I swan dived from the tower. By that point it was almost easy, the white light of the abyss so warm in it’s enticement. As I was telling Dawn to live, I was welcoming my time to die. To make this round my last round. Buffy Summers; Rest In Peace.
And now being back here? It feels like I lost her all over again. Ripped from the comfort of her embrace to instead embrace a world I had long left behind. Had forgotten the harshness of every minute. The hurt, the tears, the pain, the suffering, the endlessness. God, the loneliness. I forgot how alone I had always felt.
The oneness of being me.
It tore back into me in flashes, strobe lights assaulting my senses, too much, everywhere, my eyes seeing too much, my arms, my legs, hearing… god, the sounds. All so loud, my head throbbing with an intensity that slayer powers only sought to enhance. The violence encasing my skin, my reality returned. I was death, and I was dead. They could hug me and hold me all that they wanted to, but none of them could touch me. Words of welcome back sounded no more than a sick joke. And I couldn’t laugh with them. Couldn’t cry with them. Their arms around my neck just one more weight pulling me down. Ensnaring me in a place that I couldn’t bear to be.
I knew that they could see it, I tried to hide behind some walls of defence, to fake the things that I couldn’t feel, but I could never keep my eyes on them. Could never let the smiles reach up there. I saw the worried glances, heard whispers of concern behind the doors of my friends… so I tried more to cover it. To stay away, to fill the voids with distance, to cut down the time I had to keep up the charade.
I wish I could replace slayer sight with hindsight. Could go back and beg for different. Could stop my feet from so solidly stomping down this path which has brought us to the now. The path to Spike’s door.
I never saw it coming. The force and brutality with which it would hit me. Something so bad that it could never be numb. The vacuum growing inside of me had sucked up his words, given a home to the darkness… and I was like him now. I started to believe in it. I couldn’t be human, I couldn’t be me… because I wasn’t. I didn’t feel like me. I felt like nothing. Like him.
Each time that I went to him, I swore it would be the last. Not even having the energy to pretend that I believed in it. His mocking eyes always showing that he had the same beliefs. His words telling me that I had nowhere else to go, lips smiling as mine showed the truth. There was nowhere else.
I had turned my back on everything else. Had given up on them. I had let myself lose it all in disgust, in degradation, hatred for this that I had become. It became a circle, a spiral ever downwards. Every time I walked away I promised myself I would learn to be strong, that it wasn’t too late… I was Buffy, I could do this. And for a day, maybe two… I would force perky again. I would cut Dawn’s sandwiches and drive her to school, I would wave at Willow as she left for college, pretend to feel concern for her and Tara, try and lose myself in the sounds of a deep fat fryer. Then the emptiness would come back. The knowledge of all I was doing so stark in contrast to all that I had ever wanted to be. And that hate, and that disgust, it would slam back into me with a force a million times stronger than a thousand Glory hell bitches. Would send me running to the only place that I could let it out. Could punish myself with the pain that he offered. A sick little spiral of deprava tion. That is where that path lead me. Around and around. Just circling death.
When he was inside of me, ripping at me, tearing at me… in those moments I knew that he had death planned for me. Somewhere inside of him. Maybe he saw me as a replacement Drusilla. Soulless mates. I couldn’t care. Any end to this non existence would feel like a happy ending. I was so sure of it.
And then Dawn. Could there have been a louder wake up call? An echo in the darkness, a final scream in my ear of all that I stood to lose. It didn’t shock me back to life, but it made me want to sneak a distance away from death. To creep away from the door marked ‘imminent disaster’. Looking at my sister, my baby sister, so small on the harsh white sheets of a hospital bed. Throat raw from the tube in her stomach. When I looked at her, the guilt hit me harder than I could have ever prepared myself for. I did this to her. And I knew it.
And I hated myself more. All of the good feelings left in the ground were replaced by the bad ones. Some extra bad ones just in case. I wanted to hold Dawn and soothe her and to make it all better. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. I got angry. The disgust for myself building my rage towards the others. Dawn could do this after all I had done for her? My friends could question me after all I had done for them?
If Dawn was allowed to seek death then I would too! Spike could have the ‘all you could eat Buffy’ he had always longed for, and I would have my happy ending. My third times the charm.
I stop punching. Instead rest my head against the bearer of my burdens, the bag now hanging limply without the force of impact. I look back now at how close I came to accepting that invitation and I wish that the damn bag could punch me straight back. Slap me upside of the head and proclaim my stupidity to the world. This tension in my shoulders isn’t even threatening to shift. So many blows left to fall, so much more of my story left to tell. To watch on a loop and wonder at a pause button. A moment I could choose to tell the story different, to make a real happy ending.
I look to the door, to the room outside, and I know more than anything what the happy ending should have been, where it should have started. The moment for stopping.
Faith.
A word that just begs to inspire hope and belief, but in the second that my eyes had rested on her again, it had only brought back the reminder of more pain. So much hate inside of me, that it was easy to point it at her. So what that the time was past, that so much had changed… so what that she was here to help? The rage that I was dying to inflict upon myself had settled upon a new target. A self-preservation moment.
The energy that I felt as I leapt across the counter, that was energy that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Fizzing right through me, awakening parts of me that had long ceased to exist. The monotonous beep of my flatline existence exploding as a roar in my ears that drowned out the sounds of my fist hitting her face. It was all so real. All so me and Faith. All so every moment. And the hum that was only increasing with every second that she was in my space, was drowning out all of the sad songs I had ever learnt the words to. The rhythm of her walk, the pattern of her speech… they were like crumbs on the path back to salvation. And I wanted to consume them all. To hit her with all of it. Unleash the full force of it.
For the first time since being back, I almost wanted to share it. To share me, to let someone inside to witness the voids, to fill the emptiness. As her fingers slipped against mine I had been jolted by the force. Not the force from her, but from me. The sudden steady beating of my heart, the moment it had started to thump again.
It was all that I had longed for, and yet the reality of it sent the blood racing through my veins with a chill even colder than Spike. This was Faith! Not hope or belief, and I just couldn’t understand the god damn tricks that my body was playing on me. So I forced the walls to stay firm in my eyes, to slap her back with the coldness of my gaze.
I can remember all of that night so clearly. The daze that I had faced the rest of the hours with. Home to my bed. To find tears for the first time and the comfort within them. Not cold comfort, but something close to feeling. Feeling like me, like Buffy.
The morning after when I looked in the mirror, I had the clearest view of all that I had become. Saw myself through the eyes of another. It called forth the scornful look on my face, the bitter taste in my mouth. Made me open the door on her with all of this on show… and yet still she wouldn’t budge. Here for Dawn, to pick up the pieces that I had let shatter. In her eyes I imagined all of the things that the mirror had shown me, provoked myself to remember the things which had made me despise her. I wouldn’t let her look at me like nothing, because I was better then her… remember? How it used to be? When things were right. When I was right.
The words which formed in my hate centred mind though, they were not the ones which fell from my mouth without warning. I don’t know where they came from. Those walls falling again as if just her presence held the power to calm me. As if she looked through the darkness and could still see me. See Buffy. In here and screaming to get out. The place where all of the feelings had been hiding, the place where I still lay grieving.
Standing next to her had made me remember. Her warmth provoking the warm feel of safety. And it made me kinda wonder right then and there if I hadn’t just overstepped the bounds to insanity?
As her feet moved her closer, mine sprang me backwards. A deer caught in the headlights. Not wanting her to see me. Didn’t want her to shine those lights too close and catch a glimpse of all that was inside. My sickening secret. The truth of who I was now. Not better than her, not better than anyone.
Stay away from me Faith.
I look to the door again and I wish that those words had never been mentioned. With every punch that I land, I silently beg for her to come and find me. To never ever stay away from me.
The fervour of my blows increases as I feel again the horror of when both of
their eyes had first rested upon me. Looking for Dawn and stumbling so close to my truth. His eyes sliding inside of me in unwanted penetration and hers standing by to bear witness. Not understanding what she was seeing. Just how evil, evil can be. I saw her wanting to protect me, the vibe left over of our matching footsteps enough to have her already accepting that we were partners. Still card carrying members of a double act where both of our backs would always be covered. And all I offered her in return was my real back. Had made my footsteps bear rhythm with his in a blatant disregard for everything I was beginning to feel. Really feel.
Still letting the disgust keep a hold, Spike holding the key to my prison of hate. The last time I had been with him, it had been shrouded in a passion that seeing Faith had urged me to feel. He recognised the difference, sneered at the light he was seeing through the cracks. Reminded me of all that I wasn’t, assured me I was still his, would be his as long as he demanded. He knew my secret too, he was my secret. Not ashamed to use it to remind me of where I would continue to go. To him.
I had almost cried tears of joy when Faith had thrown him from the house. Then I remembered my place and found confrontation. And then I really did cry. How could her words sound so good? How could the promise in them seem so real?
Everyone else was believing. Dawn, Tara, Willow. Was I wrong to start to believe in it too? To let the walls slip again and invite her in. A little look around, survey the damages. Pray that maybe she had a quote for repairs.
Agreeing to less hostility? It was so much easier then she thought. Her eyes hanging on me, her breath holding for an answer. And god… she still has those eyebrows that emphasise finding the fun! I had forgotten that fun existed. But in that second, with that look, I remembered. I may have smiled. I may have meant it. It may have even stayed sat on my lips as I stayed sat on the sofa, awaited her return. The creeping on the stairs, whose almost silent noises I know so well, letting me know that she was near. I could draw a plan of those steps and illustrate each little spot which creaks, the best places to sneak past a sleeping mother. To not wake a house of sleeping friends.
I held my breath to slow the steady thump thump thump in my chest. Forced myself to relax as she plucked the remote from my hand. The little chuckle that she produced almost making me give up the game. Admit I was there, and coming round fast. I didn’t want to spoil it though. I couldn’t bear to open my eyes on her and see the things that she felt. The way that she believed in me. Knowing all that I have done, I just couldn’t let her look at me in that way.
I heard rather then saw as she her placed her fingers to her lips, the soft sound of her kiss and then the soft feel of fingertips against my head. Soothing my brow, offering me something I had long given up on. Sweet dreams. It had sounded like a promise.
But I just couldn’t do the smart thing and accept it then and there. I was still too busy burying my head inside of my small, yet accommodating, ass and denying that the truth of my situation could indeed be found in Faith. In hope and belief. Instead I searched out again the opposite, all of Spike’s nasty truths which were tearing at my soul. My reality in his arms, my sickness in his touch.
I remember the night that I came so close to just laying down. Running as far away from the confusion as I possibly could get. Was I disgusting and wrong, fit for nothing but darkness? Or was I who I saw when she looked at me? Could I still be Buffy.
And I could. I was. I am?
I pushed him away from me, no explanations. Tore myself from his crypt and looked for the crumbs to follow on the path. I didn’t expect her to actually be there. So close to me after I had been so close to him. Would she smell him on me? Sense him on me? I wanted to push her away so that she would never have to see. But she wouldn’t be pushed. Stood firm again, offered her hand out again. And I clung for dear life. In that moment I clung to life. To her.
I let my smile grow as the footsteps marched us back to my house, my home. My mouth finding the way to fall back into banter, my ears to hear the sound of my laugh. I didn’t plan to invite her to the house of horrors for my birthday, it just seemed right. Amongst all of the bad stuff, all of the pain, it felt like the most right thing to do. Not for another slayer, but just… I guess just for her.
I look up at the clock as my arms slip to heavy. They feel like dead weight and that’s a concept which I fully understand. The minutes are ticking by, the sky growing darker. Everything is fading. I can’t punch anymore. Push any harder. Let my limbs crash down onto the softness of a training mat.
Everything had spun with the softness of her lips. Had crashed in so many different ways. Did I feel this?… Was she mad? It was all I could feel, all I had ever felt. The reason that my heart had started beating again. When her nose had grazed mine with such innocent feeling, I could do nothing but reply to her in kind. Prove just how deep it was all running, how deep she was touching me.
And then came the crash of the world. I hate that crash. I’m gonna manufacture earplugs that drown out the sounds, blindfolds that hide it from sight. If forever could have been hidden between her lips, then I would of happily have stayed in that moment for all of it. Instead her warmth brought back the taste of the cold, memories of where my lips had lied, places that bore them unworthy to ever taste kisses with her.
It wasn’t about saving myself anymore, it became about saving her. Not hurting her anymore, causing her more pain, extras added to all of the years. I tried to warn her to stay away, that my secrets were too harsh to share, too much to forgive. And it’s my fault for forgetting how stubborn she can be. How focused on what she wants.
Did I mean to call it a date? No. Did it feel like one? It felt like a date and then some. Nervous expectation, my blush as I spied her arriving so early, the easiness of how natural it was to be at her side. Back to the places that it had all began. I didn’t plan on the oaf of a newbie, the crazy way that she had lost the fight by looking at me. Only having eyes for me. I did get to squeeze both of her knees though… it wasn’t all bad.
The feeling like distance was being made. The slow signs welcome because it at least gave us direction. I had found the hope and belief, and I accepted that I wanted the Faith that went with them. I would destroy the secrets that had held me back, would end them and then speak them. Offer what I was and pray that it was still worth loving.
I ended it… but the secret was already out. I felt the dismay in her words, the anger, the revulsion. Still so close to the surface, so easy to welcome back. The horror at seeing so much in her eyes, not even beginning to match the horror at myself. I gave the last of my everything holding her back from him, from Spike. I had made myself less there, I couldn’t stand by and let her do the same. Let her lose herself in the evil which he offered so freely.
I didn’t stay to see that he was okay, how bad she had hurt him, all I cared about was how bad I had hurt her. How much damage my betrayal had caused this time. Then going to Cordy, but not having the words, finding the wrong ones. The blood at my mouth increasing her panic. Had Faith done this? I gave my ‘yes’ without explanation, led them all away from my wrongs, with worry about hers. Such a coward in the face of all that I had done. I saw it in her eyes when she had returned, and I withered under her glare. It provoked the truth today. A day when she wrapped her eyes up and away from me. Left me feeling like there is nothing left inside there for me, no more promises of better. Of salvation.
It made it easier to shock the socks off my friends with my nasty revelation. There was no more reason to try and hide it. What does it matter anymore?
I stare up at the ceiling and wonder if heaven really is up there and waiting. At the karmic cost to my scales since I have been back. So bad I want that pause button. The rewind button. The any button but now button. To take it all back and to do it all right. So bad I want it that I miss the sound of the volume button. Miss the turn of the door handle and the invasion of space. Don’t register a thing until the heaviness of her voice is falling deep into my ears.
“Are you ok?”
You what?… I barely dare to look, scared that all she could be bringing will be the final chapter in the book. Not asking me if she should stay, but telling me she is leaving. For her. Because I feel too much like pain. I lift myself slowly, elbows bending to support my weight, below her on the floor and looking up into the windows of her soul. The glasses are gone now, forcing me to fix my eyes onto the harsh brutality of her gaze. All of the different ways that she is hurting.
And yet she asks me if I am okay?
I can’t even pretend that I can hide behind perky. Behind a false tone of everything that I’m not. I look at her and I show the truth. No Faith, I’m not okay. I’m the furthest from okay that I’ve ever been in the whole of my sorry existence.
I bring myself to my knees and then to my feet, just one step closer, just one gaze more. Our eyes are connected in a hold that I never want to break, the world dimming as this moment slides into our never ending book of moments. Complete with the crackling intensity, the very air balancing on a knife edge. Frozen yet burning.
I wish I had the words, anything to show her how sorry I am. I go to speak, to find form for something that I know I need to say. “Faith…”
And it ends right there. Her hand raising up to stop me as her own mouth is opening. “No, I asked if you were okay.”
“But…”
“I don’t wanna hear it B… just let me know that you’re gonna be okay.”
“I…” I what? Her eyes are a wealth of unspoken information and I can’t miss the concern, after everything I can still hear it. Am shocked by the fact that it’s there. It inspires me to relax into my nod. “…I think so, I… I know it’s gonna take time. I’ve let them down, I get that…”
“You fucked up big style.”
She drops her gaze to the floor, shaking her head as a bitter laugh slips from her lips. “I never would’ve believed it B, not you… I swear I thought you were fucking perfect…” Confusion sounds through her words and she looks to me again. “…what the hell happened?”
I don’t know if she wants an answer, if I have an answer. She runs a hand up through her hair, letting out a sound that could be either a growl or a sigh. Maybe both. “Do you know how sick it is? Jesus, I can’t even stomach the thought of that fucker touching me… but you B? You let him, you fucking wanted him to!”
Her feet start to pace the space right in front of me, just pausing to crash her fist against the bag, the tension making me freeze in the spot where I stand, not daring to speak, to move, to breathe. Preparing myself to face the weight of her words, to accept the judgement that she offers me. Anything she offers me.
The silence that encroaches us causes me to seek her gaze again, to witness her struggle to find words, her mouth one minute falling open, and the next moment clamping shut. Her hands raising to accentuate the speech that doesn’t come, instead thrusting into the punch bag with another of the blows to beat back the pain. Blows that I almost wish were for me. That they would land on my skin and dull the pain there.
Her voice when she finds it is so far from Faith, so far from the energy of life, from the energy of her. It speaks flat in it’s monotone, devoid of all feeling. “How long have you been screwing him?”
And this time I know that an answer is demanded. Expected. Try to make my words stronger then a whisper. “Since… when Giles left. I…” I remember the feeling of abandonment. Of one more thing to hide from. “…I never meant for it to happen.”
Her eyes flick up and she’s calling me a liar. Disbelief etched right across her face. “No Faith… I swear, I never wanted to go there, I didn’t want him… I never wanted him.”
“So you thought that you’d prove it by fucking him?” It sounds as nasty coming from her lips as it did when he slid against my body. “Wanted to let him know first hand how much you didn’t want him?”
“You don’t understand…”
“Damn fucking right, I don’t understand!” She swings herself from the bag and stalks into my space, no longer devoid but coursing with anger, eyes flashing with danger as they settle onto me. “Are you gonna explain it to me B, dress it up with words about death, and pain… all of the bullshit?”
Her breath is falling heavy from her lips, her face is settling into a sneer. It’s a look I remember from so long ago. The one that she used to hide behind. That she used to fool us all with. I step towards her, I don’t mean to. I know she doesn’t want me… but I just move. Such a small distance to cross, my space to hers. She doesn’t react as I reach out a hand to her, still fixing the sneer, distaste sliding across my skin. And I just want to push through it.
I swallow the lump that threatens to quieten me and try to tell it like it is. Not what she thinks, what they all think. But the truth. My fingers turning her head back, even as she seeks to tear it away. “It wasn’t sex Faith… it was never about sex, about wanting him, touching him…” I remember his fingers as they crawled over body, eliciting cries and moans, drowning out the sorrow with the endless disgust. “…I hated him touching me, the ways that he touched me, and that’s why.”
Her gaze is unmoving, maybe unmoved. I drop my hand away from her and use it to trace away my tears, to try and wipe at the weakness that she’s getting to see. I don’t want to give her my tears, I owe her so much more than my tears. I hear my voice crack as I admit to how little I became, each word carrying the truth as I felt it. “I was so lost, so empty… I couldn’t do it anymore Faith, I didn’t know how to do it, to pretend, to smile, to live… Spike was the only one I could tell. The only one I could bare to show the truth to…”
She scoffs at my words, fills the silence with anger. “An evil vamp? All of your friends, and you could only share the truth with a blood sucking corpse?”
“My friends could never have dealt with it.”
“You never gave them the chance.”
I watch as she walks her way across the room, the fluid movement of her limbs lost in the tenseness of the moment. Her back so rigid as she fights what she’s feeling. I guess the need to pound me, to beat on me in the style of the slayer. I don’t know whether to carry on, whether she waits for more words to mock, more reasons to ridicule. I let my body sink back to the mats, strain my ears as she speaks in a whisper.
“How long? When… the last time? How long?” She doesn’t turn to look, perhaps protecting herself from the answer that she suspects.
And I want to lie, but she’ll know. “Last week, I… I went to him, I didn’t, we didn’t… sleep together, but I went to him… before the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?”
“Before I saw you.”
“Oh…”
“But not since, I haven’t gone there since.”
She swings round to face me, accusation in her eyes. “That’s not how it looked last night.”
I know that I deserve her accusations, all of them. But not for last night. Last night was different, last night was me ending the madness, releasing myself from the last of the binds which had tied me to death. I didn’t want to roll around in the dirt anymore, I wanted my life back. I want to live.
“Last night was different Faith, I was putting a stop to it… ending it.”
“You never should have started it!”
“And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t spend all of my seconds just wishing I could change it…” My voice carried me up from the floor, my feet carrying me across the room. “…I hate what I did! I hate it Faith…” I see her retreating, not with her body, it’s all in the eyes. Taking them away from me, closing herself to all of my regrets. “…I hate what I’ve done to you.”
It falls from my mouth just a whisper, the most honest truth that I know. And it nails my coffin shut. The change that comes over her is heart breaking to watch. The solidness in her stance, no softness about her edges. She’s looking into me again and it’s like no one is there. Emptiness and voids. “Forget it.”
“Forget it?”
And she can keep me from her eyes, but she can’t keep the sigh from escaping her lips. “This can’t be about this, not now B.”
‘This’ has me almost falling into her space, the just one touch to make it better. And she moves before I do. A pace across the floor to safer waters. Emphasising the distance between us in the most obvious way. “That shit with the witches, I don’t know if you feel it..?”
The dread. I nod my head, try to steady my focus on this problem.
“I’ve been getting the nasty vibe since your birthday B, and I dunno… I feel like this shit is gonna be real bad.”
“Shit usually is.”
“Cute.” She rolls the business eyes up to the ceiling. “We’ve gotta get a grip on it though, I spoke to Angel…” She pauses when she says that and I can only guess why. What other things they talked about. I hang my head in shame, listen to her words with my eyes to the ground. “…he said he can come down if we need him, that Wes and Fred could come too, it could help?”
“You’re asking me?”
“This is still your show to run, I don’t wanna step on no toes.” And I wish she would come close enough to step on toes.
“No toes stepped on.” I try and smile, but really, she’s not responsive. “I don’t know if we need them, Giles is coming… maybe they could dig up info their end?”
“Yeah, I said that, Angel hates doing the work and not getting the action though, Cordy can testify to that…” Huh? I catch the eyebrows but not the meaning.
“…if they find something out, then they’ll be here before you can say ‘helps the helpless’, he takes the champion thing pretty serious, ya know?”
I see the fondness for Angel and it’s a nice break from seeing the scowls for me. “How is Angel?” I try and keep it going, I haven’t seen him since… well, since my resurrection, another thing I let slide.
“He thinks that you’re seriously whacked, ‘part from that he’s cool, working on his tan.”
“You told him then… about me, and… Spike?”
“Honesty amongst friends B. You should try it.”
And I am chastised again. It throws us back into a silence that even big bads can’t begin to cover. Am I allowed to speak more? Does she really not want to listen? “Faith?”
Can she even hear me?
“I think we should shake up patrol, no one goes out alone, and the witches…” She rolls right around the moment and forces us back on track. “…I think one of us needs to be with them at all times…”
“All times?”
“There ain’t no way these fuckers are getting their hands on them girls, we’ll split shift, I’ll cover when you’re at work, you can do the rest.”
“And patrol?”
“Whoever’s off duty gets to do the rest of the duties.” She shrugs her shoulders, walks a little closer. “It means no down time, but we’re slayers right? It’s the job.”
And when did she get so good at her job? “You’ve got it all worked out huh?”
“You think I’m wrong?”
“No, I’m just… impressed.” I try for that smile again, is it safe to give smiles?
“Right.” She blows off the compliment, ignores the smile. “You got anything to add?”
I’m like a calculator on speed, I have a thousand and one things to add. None of them anything that she wants to hear though. “No, I’m good. You’ve got it all covered.”
“Not quite all.”
“Huh?”
I watch as her shoulders square, her face so tense that rigid seems soft in comparison. “It fucking pains me to say this B, but I’ve been thinking...”
I hear the tone and I’m fearing the worst. Is this the leaving speech? I catch her eyes, see that the pain is back, not even walls enough to ensnare her level of discomfort.
“It’s about Spike.” It’s a word wrapped in so much hate now, so much bitterness. She spits it from her lips making the distaste known. But I don‘t understand.
“What about him?” Maybe she’ll tell me that she is going to kill him. To more kill him. I expect it, I’d almost welcome it. But I won’t let her clean up my mistakes. I prepare myself to plead my case. To hold her back again… then she just shocks the ass off of me.
“Do you think that maybe Dawn was right?”
And holy freaking huh? “You what!?”
“Do you think that he could help?”
I swear I must be looking at her as if SHE is now fit for insanity. My mouth hanging open, my eyebrows up on the ceiling. I see her slip her head to the side, watch her admire my pose. “Chill B, I don’t fucking like it, but I’m not fucking stupid.” Her hands slip to the punch bag again, not pounding now, but gripping. “If you think he can help, that he can give us anything…”
I want to say ‘no’! To protest and to banish him far from my life. But it could be ‘yes’. Speaking about big bads was never much on our agenda. Speaking wasn’t much on the agenda. For all I know Spike could hold the key to everything, and I wouldn’t have a clue. Slayer sleuth? Not a chance. “I don’t… I haven’t asked him.”
She pauses on her breath, looks me slowly over. “Are you up to asking him?”
“Me?”
“Well I’m pretty sure that I don’t need to see him. I‘d get all stake happy.”
“Right… well, sure!” And I SO don’t need to see him. “I’ll… swing by tomorrow…” The thought of seeing him now is enough to make me want to physically gag. My insides twisting as I think of his eyes sliding over me again. How did I ever let him touch me?
“Are you sure it’s cool?” She looks so uncomfortable, unsure of what she should say, what it’s ok to say. “He won’t try and… hurt you?”
“I’d kill him before he could he touch me.”
Even she can’t miss the force of my tone. I mean every word. I never want him to touch me again. Ever. If he can help us? Great. But nothing more. Never again. Her eyes are stuck on looking at me, questioning me. “You mean that?”
“I swear it.”
She nods as if she accepts it. Moves a step closer to walk to the door. “Well, I guess that’s everything.”
“No Faith, wait…”
“I said not now.” I ignore her words to stand my way in front of her, try and be the immovable object that she has been for me. She sighs again, pulls her hand through her hair again. “For fucks sake B, what do you expect from me?”
“I just want you to listen.” I appeal to her with everything that I feel, don’t shroud anything anymore, free from the burdens to show her all of my truths. Those deep brown pools of emotion looking right into me. And she’s letting it all flow again. “Can you do that Faith?”
Her fingers shake as they hover through the air to reach me, almost not touching, just grazing my cheek. I try so hard not to breathe, not to move, not to take my eyes away. Her voice is broken, not directing at me. I’m not even sure that she is talking to me.
“I am so screwed.”
“You what?”
She drops her hand back to her side. Gives a laugh that’s not quite hollow. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” But it does matter, all of this matters. I don’t know what to do. What to say. I pause on the instant, leave the ball in her court and hope that she feels like playing. Try not to keep the hope in my eyes, to make her feel like I expect anything from her. I do just want her to listen.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal?”
“All of this B? I’ve gotta be honest, it feels pretty fucking shit… I can’t, man…” Her frustration growls from her chest and resonates against mine. I didn’t realise how close our space was again. How she hasn’t stepped back. “…it’s just messed up, and I don’t think I can deal with it all right now.”
My head drops as the words do the same. Makes her fingers touch my skin again. Makes me wanna keep dropping my head. Instead I raise it as she demands, let myself be the one who has to listen.
“I’m not saying I won’t deal B, I’m just saying not now… we’ve got so much shit to get through, the witches to look after… just, can we leave this for now? We’ll save the world first and then we’ll save ourselves.”
“You think that we can be saved?”
“Do you?”
What is it with answering questions with questions? And how to answer? Does ‘yes’ sound too cocky, too dismissive of what I’ve done? I try and muster some confidence, put some strength into my words. “I hope so Faith, I really truly hope so.”
And my god! Is that a dimple? “Are you smiling?”
“Maybe… but I’m definitely not meaning to.” She only smiles wider with her words, blows her own assurance straight out of the water.
“Well… it’s a nice non-smile.”
“You know it’s not for you, right? I’m still pissed at you B.”
And I ignore the humour and catch the truth. “I get that, I’ve got lots of making up to do.” I can feel the tension lifting. That calmness that her presence brings seeping it’s way through to my bones. I know just how bad I have messed everything up, but she isn’t turning her back on me. Giving up on me.
The anger still simmers just below the surface, her disappointment and her pain… but through all of it, in her eyes that she’s resting upon me without the discomfort, there I just see Faith. And it’s like I said… she looks at me and she just sees Buffy.
It is the same. Different but the same. The reason that my heart started beating again.
“Make it up to the others first ,yeah? Dawn took it pretty harsh, your friends… I can wait B, serious, we’ve got the slayer gig to get on with… lets deal with that and then we’ll deal with…”
Her voice drops to nothing and her gaze drops to the space between our bodies. There isn’t so much, me leaning in, her leaning in. The gap shrinking quickly.
“With us, Faith?”
I’m speaking almost against her lips, trying to keep it all steady. To ignore the pull which threatens to drag me onto her. Into her. She’s not helping me though. I see where her own eyes sit, not listening to words, but watching them being formed. Watching my mouth move, just as I’m watching hers. “Yeah, with us.”
I can’t stop the slight whimper that slips straight from my throat as her body pulls back, as she straightens those shoulders and shakes off the feeling. It makes her look at me funny, makes the corners of her mouth curve up into another smile. Makes words fall from her lips as she turns away from facing me. “Yeah, I’m definitely screwed.”
I don’t ask. Watch her back as it makes it’s way closer to the door. Then she’s stopping and turning, speaking. “I’m gonna grab Cordy and then shoot, I guess I’ll speak to you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.”
“And the vamp thing?” And I’m listening. “If you need me, if you don’t wanna go alone… I’ll come ok?” And I really don’t think that that’s the best idea ever. Maybe my eyes have gone wide, but she’s shaking her head. “Contrary to some people’s words B, I am pretty good at reeling in the madness. I can cope… if you need me?”
“I’ll be fine. Really. It’ll all be fine.” I don’t know who I’m trying to tell. I know that I don’t want to see Spike, I need distance from my mistake. But still I assure her. It is my mess to clean.
“Cool, … that’s all then right?”
Her hand is on the door and I wish I could think of a valid reason for her to stay. I stand and watch her go though, catch her goodbye, another half smile.
And she truly is amazing.
Angel was the love of my life. But now? Now it feels like I have a new life, a new love. What I feel for her I have never felt… not years ago when she was here, it’s so much more than that. Much more than anything. I don’t know? Maybe I had to die to appreciate it, to accept it.
I thought that the third time would be the charm for dying, but with her half smiles I see, so still wrapped in promises? Now I’m kinda thinking that the third time living might just be the charm. We’ll sort out this bad, and then we can get to the ‘us’.
I can live with that, I can live for that. ‘Us’. It’s a word that I like. A word that I wanna use more of.
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