Chapter Fifteen.
Howling and growling said so much too. Screamed so much to one who wanted only silence. Little solder drops of sense burning through to confront the messengers of madness, little drips of destruction that wanted to signal an all-out war. Too much information.
And Faith wasn’t like that. Situations were only ever surmised by how best she could survive, what there was to be gained. Selfishly simple - Want. Take. Have. She didn’t ponder another’s feelings; she didn’t care if her benefits didn’t benefit them - life was what you made it, and she knew more than enough to know that in this life you looked out for number one. No other fucker was ever gonna do it.
So why the incessant screaming? Why the endless fucking choir that implored for her to shut the fuck up?!
The constant smashing and crashing of cymbals. The constant rise and fall of the words that did nothing to name her tune. She had never been religious. Never troubled by a greater meaning to a life that wasn’t exactly paradise; yet still her head was relentlessly pounding along to the heaven sent strains of Hark The Herald Angels… really so fucking ironic. The only thing she wanted to do to the heralding Angel was send a salvation sized splinter dead centre through his heart. Bust to dust the confusion that was doing a whole lot worse than any coma had ever done.
Four years of downtime sounded perfect right now. A forever of downtime sounded even better.
Nothing sounded worse than what was inside her head. Almost having her shaking, almost having her stopping the pacing to introduce cranium to brick. Sorely tempted. Sore all over.
Too much information.
“I’m here to help.”
“I was scared.”
“You can still try.”
Floating phrases which encircled her mind. Poking and prodding. Finding ways in.
“I understand Faith. Let me help you?”
“Is this what you want?”
“Give us a chance?”
So many fucking questions. Not a single answer.
No one had offered Faith peace as an option - no one had sidled up to her with a pointed weapon and induced her back to sleep. No one had followed the rules of engagement. The meaning of life.
This wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t what she knew.
All except for Willow of course… now that had been a flavour that Faith was much more accustomed to tasting. The venom and the hate marching forth like sadistic little saviours of her soul. Something for the madness to hold onto. A dark comfort found in places that felt all too familiar.
“We all hate you.”
Never wanting it any other way.
Right?
Cue the chorus. Cue the itching beneath her skin as she fought her hardest to silence the encore, the crushing weight of a phrase that dripped with an antidote she did not desire.
“I never meant any of this.”
Not the script! Not the fucking way it was meant to play!
Unable to douse the burning behind her eyes as she saw again the gaze which had been wrapped in gentle. Wrapped in everything. Breaking everything. There was supposed to be pain and violence, hate induced agony - fights which swore that they would last to the death; not gentle. Not tinted pinks and dipping eyes and looks which only reminded her of lies.
Faith had seen looks like that before. Had learnt the hardest way what it was like to put her trust in them. To feel vulnerable. To need someone.
Holding so tight to the walls of resistance. Wanting to batten down every hatch in the hope of preserving what she knew. What was safe. Happy to stay forever in her tidy box if it meant that she would never have to face what lay outside. What lied inside.
Why she had been put inside that tidy little box in the first place.
Buffy had sought solace in the safety of her bedroom after the long hard talk outside with Kennedy. Slamming down the windows, turning the lock that sat on her door; trying so hard to hide from all of the things that she had just said. Not meant to say. Not then.
“Have you ever told her?”
Unable not to say them. Smashing through the silence to bring secrets to life. Harsh at first; a snort of disbelief, a sarcastic smile to wrap around words.
“Gee - during all of the mudslinging and duels to the death, I never quite found the time to let her know that she was important to me. My bad.”
Gradually losing the sarcastic as Kennedy had refused to let lying dogs sleep. Itching at the issue as rabidly as a mutt with fleas - “Maybe it is your bad. It’s hardly a big deal, is it; telling someone you care?”
“Oh look, proof positive you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re taking about. You may have all managed to cook up some fantasy in your heads about what Faith’s really like, but let me assure you: Faith doesn’t do caring. It’s this whole thing she has going for her - why care, when it’s so much easier not to.”
“Like you, you mean?”
And the smile had disappeared then too.
She would’ve liked to deny it. Would’ve liked to cling tight to her haughty airs and graces and assure Kennedy again that she didn’t have a damn clue what she was talking about. It was hard to be a bare faced liar though - hard to deny words that she herself had wrung from her own body just a few days previous in an offering to Spike.
She cut herself off. She spurned connection. A thing she had going for her.
Not because it was easier, but because that was how she’d had to survive. Get too close and you suffered loss. Care too much and chances were you’d be forced to send a sharpened sword straight through love’s unbeating heart. Or maybe slide a knife through its gut as easy as if it was butter. No. It was much better to survive than to face the consequences.
Only now, in the claustrophobic confines of her shut tight bedroom, Buffy did not feel as if she was surviving. The opposite. Each breath of air feeling rank and stale. Each tick of the clock seeming closer to sunset.
And she knew what she had to do.
Had reasoned with herself for hours. Back and forth over the unspoken words which had been spoken to Kennedy. Not exactly declarations; Buffy would never be one to trumpet out her feelings from rooftops on high - but words which had broken through the crap of her resistance. Speaking of forces, of power - of the way you could feel in an instant when everything around you sat exactly the way it should. In tune and synchronised. How just one look, one touch - god, one suggestive wink from one suggestive eye - was enough to spark currents strong enough to power the whole of the Western Seaboard. How one glimpse behind the mascara framed mask of seduction had been enough to melt away everything inside that had wished to stay hard.
And then - always then - how it had morphed into feelings which were tainted with hate.
“It must have been hard - in the end - to, you know… it must have been hard.”
“No Kennedy, it was surprisingly easy.”
…there were so many shouts of denial being sounded by then.
She had added the words silently until Kennedy had prodded even further for explanations. Her voice unable to cease the telling of the tale. How embittered they had all been. How sick with the betrayal. Even now Buffy could still remember fresh the rage that had flowed so thick through her veins - the absolute loathing for what Faith had become, the deepest desire to eradicate the feelings that she still harboured in her heart.
As easy as sliding through butter.
An unwanted memory that could creep up anytime. One absent mind. One quick hard smash back to reality.
“You did it… you killed me.”
It usually killed her perky spirit. Had killed it today. Not wanting to venture down again, not wanting to partake in the afternoon activities of forced joviality and nonsensical banter. Not wanting to make small talk about Faith and the impending nearness of her departure. No - the big talk with Kennedy had been enough to sustain her through the hours of solitude. Had led her to work out exactly what it was that she had to do.
And do pretty soon if the shadows across her bed were anything to go by.
The hour of sunset had always called to Buffy; since the moment she had been called as a slayer she had known inherently when the sun was bidding its nightly farewell. Not needing a clock. Not needing anything except the pumping of her pulse and the thumping in her heart. Barely perceptible. The slightest change. Tick, tick, tick. Pupils dilating just a fraction. A slight tightness of muscle. Ready for action.
Sliding back the lock on her door.
The lobby of the Hyperion sat deserted as the minute hand ticked its way towards sunset. Just dim light left to catch the dust dancing. Nobody about to witness the stealth of the slayer - sliding through shadows, creeping soft to the desk. Buffy had expected a crowd, had thought that she would have to use her greatest powers of persuasion to carry out the final act in the unsatisfactory conclusion. But no. The troops were disassembled and her pathway lay clear.
Great!
Or terrifying.
Her skin slightly clammy as she took the now familiar steps down into a now familiar basement. Holding just the tiniest bit tighter to the scythe in her grasp. Just an extra slice of courage, an affirmation of the feeling that she meant to set free.
“Faith?”
All commanding like. Not a trace of her uncertainty. Not a hint of an answer. Stepping forward. Her eyes sent skirting into the shadows of the prison in a bid to search out her quarry. Like hide and seek. Like more games. Except that games were supposed to be fun, and the figure that finally stepped away from the wall to meet Buffy’s stare was not bathed bright in the glows of fun and frolics. A stone set hardness in her eyes. A rasp of exhaustion from her mouth.
“Now what?”
“Technically? - now nothing. Angel will be here soon.”
Buffy could see the gaze flicking quick across the scythe, caught the momentary confusion as Faith’s eyebrows did the low down dip. The tiny twist of a snarl that curled up her lip.
“You finally found the balls to finish the job?”
“You could say that. In a way. Kind of.”
“About fucking time.” A snarl that dared to twist perversely into a smile - that dared to put some joy into her phrases. “Nice choice of weapon B - much bigger than last time. You gonna go for the guts again?”
“No Faith. I was thinking more the heart.”
Stunning the eyes. Confusing the eyebrows again. And Buffy knew why. She knew exactly what it was that her own eyes were showing - the things that Kennedy had called her on in seconds - the things that had always been kept guarded from Faith - “You do have a heart, right?”
Pouring out in seas of green. Not so scared anymore; not afraid of consequences when the situation already felt so much like death. Like loss. So sick to the pit of her stomach of loss. Staring out the sentiment across the secluded space which lay between them. And she wanted to venture forward - would have to venture forward at some point; but at this point her legs were not moving. Frozen by the face behind the mask. Aching from the need which sounded so desperate in Faith’s voice.
“Can’t you do this without the talking?”
And god.
Faith really believed that this could be an attempt at an execution? She wanted this to be an execution?
“Sorry Faith. I can’t do that. I’m never gonna finish that job…”
The crash of a fist against bars making her jump. One step back. Two steps back.
“Well fuck off then! Just FUCK OFF!!”
The crazed rage making her instantly reconsider her barely thought out plan. But where would that get her? Where would she ever get if she didn’t finally confront what had simmered inside for too many years?
Be brave. Be honest.
“I’m not going anywhere, Faith.”
Not even thinking about the risks of heinous acts and definite mortal consequences. Oh no. Buffy wouldn’t consider anything except her goal, would not focus upon anything except the task which lay at hand. The keys which lay in her hand…
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
Selecting the right one to fit in the groove. Sliding it all the way in until it rested just right. Pausing.
“You said to me I keep all this locked up - that I’ve always kept it locked up - and you’re right Faith. God are you right…”
Twisting the key. The satisfactory clunk.
“…and now I’m setting it free. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Set it free?”
Buffy couldn’t prevent the second pause. Like dangling from the highest precipice and knowing that at any moment you were going to freefall into an eternal abyss. There had to be a pause. One final breath of sanity before she let it all out. Before she let Faith out. Not the only one trying to cling tight to denial…
“Don’t do that B… you don’t wanna be doing that…”
“Why not? You said that this is what I did wrong - I’m only undoing my wrongs. Setting things right. I’m sick of the tidy boxes, I’m sick of telling myself that you’re someone I’m supposed to hate. I don’t hate you.”
The words forcing Faith back, making her head shake and her fists clench. The air around Buffy coming alive with the sweet sensation of anticipation. Expectation. Feeling the electricity, tasting the danger.
The door flung wide. Stepping purposely inside.
“This is what you wanted Faith, so here I am. No more bars. Nothing left but me and you. So what do ya say? - are you still thirsting for revenge or are you ready to hear me out?”
So strange to be inside of the cage, to take a look at the room from Faith’s perspective. The dankness of the cell. The darkness in the shadows. The non surprise of the backhand that landed hard across her face. Just below her eye. Breaking skin. A scratch.
“Revenge it is then?”
“What the fuck are you doing B, what’s this supposed to prove?”
That snarl stalking her now in purposeful circles. Ignoring the openness of the door. Focused only in one place - “You think I won’t kill you?”
Focusing right back.
It was like Buffy had said; there was power in an instant where everything sat just as it should. In tune and synchronised. Her breaths finding Faith’s. Her stance settling down to match the challenge.
“I think you couldn’t if you tried.”
Smiling tight at the harsh laughter.
“Still so fucking superior. You know I can take you B… just been waiting on a chance.”
“Maybe you can. I’m not questioning the ability though Faith, I’m questioning the desire. You don’t want me dead. If you’d wanted me dead, we wouldn’t be here now. We both know that.”
A fist this time. Snapping her head back, twisting her neck.
“Stop kidding yourself. How much fucking clearer can it get…”
A foot nestled snug against her stomach. A rush of air from her lungs.
“…I hate you B.”
Her body backed slowly up against the wall. Letting the hand wrap slender around her neck. Words whispered up close, everything up close. “I could do it right now if I wanted… squeeze the life right out of you. Watch you die. Get you the fuck out of my head forever.” The ragged feel of bitten nails digging sharp against skin. “This is what I always wanted.”
Eyes digging sharper. Buffy could feel the cold wall making shivers against her back, could feel the breaths raking hot against her skin. Found the strength to speak.
“What about what I want Faith..?”
“Fuck what you want.”
Still so close. Her one word mantra.
“No.” Pushing back. Finding the fury for her own gaze. “Not fuck what I want - I’m sick of fucking what I want! You hurt me too Faith, I’ve got scars in places that still feel the pain - don’t I get to demand a little retribution? Surely I have to have a turn at smacking you around and pretending it’s all about revenge?”
She saw the light go out. Watched the arms drop and shoulders shrug. Witnessed again the eyes that begged for an execution.
“Yeah? You want it, go for it B. Take your best shot.”
The intensity from the touches gone in an instant. Just a sitting target. And Buffy looked. And she saw. And she knew. All of the reasons she could never let go. What Faith needed. Doing as she had promised. Aiming for the heart.
“My best shot? Okay. I don’t want you to leave.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Get away from me.”
Taking her turn to do some stalking of her own. Letting her feet dictate the pace, letting Faith dictate the direction of their descent into yet another corner. Back into the darkness.
“No. You wanted my best shot; this is it. As crazy as it sounds, I want you to stay… I want us to put all of the bad stuff behind us, work through it - do whatever it is that you’re supposed to do with the bad stuff…” not resisting another step. An infringement of space. Letting the unmistakable energy draw her in closer. “…I want us to be back on the same team, fighting the same fight. God Faith, do you know how many times I visited you in hospital? Holding your hand while I moaned about the hardness of every day I fought alone, while I told you about all of the things that I never meant for you to miss…”
“Get away…”
Barely a whisper. A plea.
“I never told you though Faith, how I felt. I never told you why I was sitting there night after night, I never had the courage to tell you what it was that I always wanted.”
“Please B…”
Breaths shaky. So shaky.
“You always knew though, didn’t you? Always waiting for me to admit it, to accept it. I think you knew in the end how hard it would’ve been… maybe that’s why you pushed so much for me to hate you - you were just as scared as I was. Well I’m done denying, Faith. I’m done denying you. I care about you, I always cared about you. The first moment I felt you… that last moment, the look in your eyes…”
Her own eyes stinging.
“…what do I want? What have I always wanted?”
“No.”
“Yes. I want you Faith. Here, with me. I want you.”
And had her heart ever broken in two so succinctly? Staring into eyes that met hers without cover. Open and honest and terrified. And backing away. Fists balled to push at Buffy’s shoulders, mouth twisting to slide that one word mantra right back her way.
“No.” Hoarse and heavy, gaining volume. “No, no, no!”
“Faith…”
“Just shut the fuck up! Stop screwing with my head, god… I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this!!”
“It’s okay…”
“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for every fucked up thing I ever did; I wish it never happened, I wish none of it had ever happened! Just leave me alone… just leave me the fuck alone.”
She couldn’t - not if her life depended on it.
Buffy would back down though. She had never meant any of this. Every instinct urging that she to go to Faith, that she find a way to hold her close, to shoulder the sighs that kept rising from the open cage. Every warning begging for no. She had pushed to the breaking point. She had spoken out loud. There was nothing left to deny.
Settling back. The stairs offering no comfort. Cold against her bones as she watched the last of the day disappear. As her blood rushing fast let her know that Angel was here.
And she didn’t turn her head as he entered. Stayed stone still as he passed her by, as he violated the silent space of the basement.
“What happened?”
Surprise voiced at finding the door open and unlocked.
“Nothing happened. I was giving Faith an early taste of freedom. I guess she didn’t want it.”
“And this?”
He leant down and ran a cold finger across her cheek - making another shiver - showing her the blood that sat accusing on his hand. “What happened?”
“I walked into a door.”
“Buffy…”
“Just leave it Angel. Nothing happened. Everything’s fine.” Bending down. Retrieving the scythe. “I was just getting ready to go slay, thought I’d say goodbye first.”
Whatever. Smiling a greeting as Wesley made his own entrance into the basement, smirking at the way he seemed to creep his way down the stairs. Eyes darting. “Hello Buffy. Nice to see you looking so well.” Not noticing her split cheek, not noticing anything. “So where is she?”
“She, is here.”
And indeed she was.
No trace of a timid tone left in her voice. Nothing but the mask of indifference to greet her new found freedom. Her grand exit through the door to the cage.
“Wow Wes, someone sure decked you out with a big dose of the dark and rugged. Best looking watcher I ever saw.”
“I’m not a watcher anymore Faith, I work with Angel now.”
“You do?”
His nod. His vulnerability.
Buffy saw it in an instant. Watching Faith feed from it, watching her step closer with that leering smile of seduction fixed firmly back in place. “Guess we’ll be working pretty close together then. Maybe you can help me tackle those hard to reach places…”
“I think we can go now.”
Angel interrupting the moment.
And she wanted to laugh at the fire that flared so bright in Faith’s eyes. That instant where she could see so clearly the urge to strike. Understanding the feeling. This was it. She wanted to cry.
“Wait Angel… can I just get a minute…”
“I doubt that’s best Buffy. I’ll call you when we get her back to mine, she’ll be okay.”
No.
“I wasn’t asking. Give us a minute - we’ll both be fine.”
She watched him look at Wes. Watched him take even longer to look at Faith. Finally coming back to rest on her. “Two minutes. We’ll be waiting upstairs.”
Two minutes?
Two minutes of silence?
And what?
What was so mind-blowingly earth shattering that just by its bare whisper, Buffy could make everything okay between them?
She thought it through as she listened to Angel and Wesley take the stairs. The soft whoosh of air as the door closed behind them. The lacking of air as the basement closed in around her.
Not the one speaking out loud this time.
“I don’t wanna hear it. Whatever it is that you can possibly have left to say; I don’t want to hear it. I’m out of here… that’s it.”
Not moving though.
“Maybe you got some of that Sunnydale dust left in your eyes; I dunno. But this is all bullshit. Probably just a little of that guilt thing working against ya B - forget it - we’ll call it quits. You stay out of my way, I’ll stay the hell out of yours.”
“Did you not listen to a single thing I said?”
“Heard it all. Real nice it was too. The bit about hospital visits? Way touching. Kinda hard to confirm when the hospital’s buried in rubble though…”
“I brought you your clothes. Is that proof enough?”
“You did what?”
“Your clothes Faith. Your jacket, your boots. I had to buy new jeans, a top - the blood stains weren’t so easy to get out…”
“That was you?”
“Who’d you think it was?”
“I figured… I dunno… The Mayor, I guess. Wasn’t really thinking anything when I woke up. I just wanted to…”
Falling into silence. Tick. Tick. Tick.
And for a moment - just the briefest of seconds - Buffy thought that the breakthrough was coming. That the offering of clothes would be enough. That the proof that she had never left Faith would be enough to stop her leaving. Those brown eyes deeper than she had ever seen them… the air seeming to pause for the charge to gather…
And then not.
“I better get going. Angel’s waiting.”
“Right.”
Watching her back. A slow steady pace.
“Faith?”
A pause.
“I know you don’t wanna hear me, you don’t wanna listen to anything I have to say - but that doesn’t change things. I’m still gonna be here - I’m not going anywhere. I’m not giving up on you again.”
The shoulders lifting in a sigh, a hand lifting to run tight through the hair.
“Nothing but a waste of time, B.”
Walking away. Leaving.
A satisfactory conclusion.
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