Show Me Love
by MDC
Author’s Note: This is kinda an experiment. All story-teller like. I was trying to go with “deep old british male voice”.
Summary: Blah. I have no idea where this is going. I just wanted to explore the cuteness of a kid Faith and Buffy together. But this chapter’s just a prologue of sorts so you got screwed. It’s boring too. In my opinion anyways.
Feedback:Tell me what ya think cuz I’m seriously doubting continuing this annoying little piece of crap.
Chapter 1: Prologue
It’s a peaceful Monday morning in the streets of Sunnydale. The sun is just beginning to peek out in the horizon and the sky is painted a beautiful blush pink, gently pushing away the rich dark purple and blue.
The people of Sunnydale are waking, and not minding it one bit. Life is good in the small California town and its inhabitants look forward to the new day.
But then, a familiar noise starts fluttering at the edge of our awareness.
What’s that?
It seems to be a soft rumbling... As we turn our eyes to the outskirts of the waking town, we see it.
It’s a car.
Now, although Sunnydale may not be the most modern of towns, rest assured that cars are not all that surprising.
This particular vehicle, however, seems out of place. It leaves a trail of dirty smoke in its path and it doesn’t seem to be the safest of automobiles. The speed in which it is approaching seems rather unusual.
Especially in Sunnydale.
Let it be known that the residents of this fine town, are very conscientious about road safety.
And although the quickly approaching car could be called many things, conscientious about road safety, would not be one of them.
As the inhabitants of the cozy homes lining the streets fetch their newspapers, make breakfast and gently awake their children from slumber, the black rickety car jangles along.
Those who enjoy a morning run, look up at the strange new appearance and follow the car with their curious eyes as it drives past them.
Indeed, the good people of Sunnydale are curious by nature and the new arrival to their town is not fascinating as of yet. But surely, strange.
A screeching noise, causes the people of Revello Drive to peek out their windows.
And lo and behold, the mysterious car has stopped.
A shadow can be made out in the dark vehicle. The driver seems to be glancing at the empty seat next to her. The back, however, is filled with boxes.
Ah!
One could animate this moment with a light bulb appearing above ones head.
This must be the new neighbor!
The new arrival is unmoving. It would even seem as if these seconds of silence were there to peak the curiosity even further.
And then, as the car door opens, the residents of Revello Drive receive a glimpse of the newest addition to their community.
A dark-haired woman, her slight curls cascading around her face, steps out of the car.
Let us pause here for a moment and take a closer look.
The first thing one would notice, is indeed the woman’s hair.
Her hair is voluminous and a rich dark brown, it reaches just beneath her shoulders and is pulled back by a head-band.
The second thing the observer would notice, is the extremely tight clothing.
The mysterious woman has a slim body, and her clothing seems to accentuate every curve. What a sight for the good, but rather conservative people of Sunnydale!
The woman wears faded light blue jeans that would comfortably fit a ten-year old. The black high heels on her feet, are planted rather shakily on the ground beneath her.
The worn black leather jacket around her shoulders seems to fit her perfectly.
As we rest our eyes on her face, one would say the leather jacket was even redundant.
Between her dark red painted lips dangles a cigarette, and her eyes are covered by a huge pair of sunglasses.
My, my, perhaps things are about to be shaken up in this quiet little town?
As the woman slams the car door closed, a little head pops up from the other seat.
What’s this? The woman’s not alone.
Behind the car window, we see the face of a child.
And what a beautiful child it is!
The little girl presses her small palms against the glass and looks at her environment apprehensively.
She rubs in her eyes and slowly opens the door.
The woman, who we can only presume is the little girl’s mother, seems to be an impatient character.
While any other person would find it impossible to refrain from hugging the little girl who carefully climbs out of the car, the woman simply opens the trunk.
And then at the same moment, two young children get reprimanded.
“Buffy, honey, get away from the window and get dressed. Mommy’s fixed breakfast.” A gentle voice.
A loving father and a curious child.
“Faith, quit slacking off and help me get this shit outta the trunk.” A not so gentle voice.
An impatient mother and a sleepy child.
As the tiny brunette pads over to her irate mother, she looks up to find a little blonde looking at her from the next door window.
Their eyes lock for barely two seconds and both resume to their given tasks almost immediately.
Neither of them will remember this rather trivial moment in the years to come.
But it was the first time they looked at their soul mate.
Chapter 2: Same Street, Different Worlds
Author’s Note: Aha! I think I figured out why writing this is so difficult and annoying! Wanna know? ... Wait for it... It’s cuz I’m not old and male and British! And I have to force myself in that state of mind which is really not working so basically I’m faking all the way through! Woohoo. So... maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say as a writer.
As Buffy walks into the kitchen, she is picked up by two strong arms and placed on Hanks lap.
The little girl squeals as her father nuzzles her face with his unshaven one.
“Hank, don’t tease her!” Joyce, the gentle mother steps up to save her daughter.
What an endearing picture of a loving family.
A chuckling Hank seats Buffy next to him as Joyce places a pancake on everyone’s plate.
“Papa, did you see?” A chubby little finger points towards the window.
It would seem that our little voyeur is very excited about the new neighbors.
“Yes, sweetie, we’ll go greet them this afternoon.” Hank takes a bite from his blueberry pancake and smiles warmly at his wife.
“I wanna greet now.” Buffy frowns in disappointment and proceeds to pout at her parents.
And what a formidable pout it is!
As you know, most children learn to handle this weapon at a young age. Some even learn to hone and perfect it.
Little Buffy seems to be quite adept at using her facial expression against her parents.
But although her grown father can now be seen squirming in his seat and her mother pretends to be fascinated by the dishes, her wish is quite impossible at this time.
“I’m sorry, baby, but we can’t. We should probably let them settle in first. Get their bearings.” Hank pats his daughters head.
Buffy’s big green eyes widen at his words.
“They have bears??!”
Her parents laugh heartedly at her exclamation, to the small child’s utter dismay.
She’s seven years old, darn it! When will her parents start treating her like an adult?
Joyce recovers from her laughter first.
“No, honey, ‘get your bearings’ means to get used to some place new.” She wipes the crumbles from around her daughter’s mouth.
Buffy scrunches her face into what she believes is her best ‘adult-face’.
“Knew that.” She huffs.
Let us now leave this endearing scene for the time being to check up on our new arrivals.
Ah, they’re inside the house, together with the contents of the car.
The hallway is littered with boxes.
The living room is furnished but ghostly, for all the furniture is covered in white sheets.
We hear some noise coming from the kitchen and if we listen closer, we would clearly hear a cursing woman.
...Something about coffee?
Ah, I see.
We enter the kitchen to see the mother struggling with a coffee machine.
“Goddamn, piece of shit, just fucking work you little fucker.”
Oh, my.
This isn’t language for a child to hear.
Where is our beautiful little Faith?
“Faith!” The mother seems to be searching for her also.
“Faith, what the fuck did you do with the fucking coffee machine?”
Perhaps it wouldn’t be best for the girl to be found by her mother.
As the agitated woman scans the hallway, we notice one of the boxes moving.
Thankfully, the mother sees nothing out of the ordinary and strides up the stairs.
The carton box is big. Big enough to fit a little girl even.
As we peer inside it, our assumptions are confirmed.
On top of all the unruly packed clothes, a little Faith is seen clutching her knees.
Oh no, she doesn’t seem happy at all.
Yet, she is not tearful. It would seem as if she’s used to her mothers outbursts.
Faith is tired, and she quietly dozes off, curled in a box with clothes.
She puts her thumb in her mouth unconsciously and mumbles something.
What’s that?
“Fuck.”
Oh, my.
Well, as we observe our two small neighbors, it would seem they have completely different living environments.
As seven-year old Buffy waves her father off to work, six-year old Faith is huddled in a box of clothes, hiding from the wrath of her caffeine depraved mother.
The meeting of these two families would be quite a sight to see, I’m sure.
This afternoon, they will meet.
This afternoon, will be a moment both the little girls will remember for the rest of their lives.
Don’t expect them to admit that, though.
But it was the moment they met their soul mate.
Chapter 3: 3:12PM
At exactly 3:12PM, thirty-four year old Silvia is at the local drugstore. She’s carrying a special cream for her son, who sprained his ankle while at school today. She talks to Jody, an old friend from college and they discuss today’s youth and ‘what these crazy kids are up to next’. As Jody rants on about how time passes by, Silvia can’t help but recall their ‘experiment’ at college in a drunken haze.
At the same time, just a few blocks away, twelve-year old Simon scores a goal while playing soccer with his best friend Derek. He feels slightly guilty for pretending to have sprained his ankle at school so he would be excused from gym. Nevertheless, he runs his victory lap around the backyard while Derek plans out how he can get back at his friend.
In the next house, sixty-five year old Jim finds that a tear is rolling down his cheek as he finds an old picture in his attic. His old body creaks as he awkwardly sits down at the steps. He wonders whatever happened to Loretta, his high-school sweetheart. And he swears he can almost feel the fabric as his calloused fingers travel along the dress she’s wearing in the picture of their high-school prom.
Our attention, however, is aimed across the street.
For at exactly 3:12PM, Hank, Joyce and little Buffy step out of their home to greet their new neighbors. The little blonde girl excitedly tugs at her parents’ sleeves.
“Do you think we should have bought them something?” Joyce asks her husband.
“Like what?” Hank answers as he ruffles through his daughter’s hair.
“Dad, you’re messing it up!” Buffy squeals.
Her father pats her head apologetically.
“I don’t know. But you always see people buying new neighbors fruit baskets and what not.” Joyce crouches in front of the pouting Buffy and fixes her tousled hair. “In movies, you know?”
“Maybe. But we can invite them over for dinner sometime instead.” Hank decides.
Meanwhile, the jittery little blonde has reached the end of her patience and pulls both her parents forcefully towards the house the next door.
Unaware of the impact the following encounter will have on their lives and those of the people around them, the Summers family reach the door.
Completely oblivious that her life is about to be inexorably entwined in the deepest and most intense, intimate level with someone else, our petite blonde stands on her tip toes and rings the bell.
“Yeah?”
Perhaps not the most fitting words for this life-altering occasion.
“Hi! I’m Joyce, this is my husband Hank and this...” Joyce trails off. Where’s Buffy?
“...and this is Buffy. Our daughter.” Hank finishes.
It appears that our little heroine has developed a sudden bout of shyness.
She shuffles gingerly behind the protection of her father’s leg and blushes.
“Say hi, Buffy.” Hank gently nudges her on.
“Hi.” Buffy whispers.
“We live next door.” Joyce explains and offers her hand.
The woman, still clutching the door, suspiciously shakes hands with Joyce and Hank and eyes the little girl. Or the top of her head at least, since Buffy has retreated almost fully behind her father.
Hanks smiles apologetically.
“She’s very shy.” He says.
“Kids.” The woman says in a tone almost resembling disdain.
“Er...Yes, well. We just thought we’d welcome you to the neighborhood...” Hank gives the woman a questioning look.
“Frankie.” She says. “Frankie Spencer.”
Joyce nods and smiles.
“Pleased to meet you.”
Frankie simply grunts in response and pops the bubblegum she was chewing.
“Um. Do you have any children?” Hank asks and he feels his daughter tighten her grip on his leg.
“Ah, yeah... She’s... I dunno where the hell that kid is. Faith! Get your butt down here!”
Joyce and Hank exchange a worried glance.
They hear a door opening and then a small brunette appears.
Hank smiles warmly at the little girl and Joyce nearly coos.
Hank crouches to get her on eye level and Faith takes a barely visible step back.
“Are you Faith?” Hank asks softly.
The frightened Faith nods and she apprehensively glances at her mother who’s now lighting a cigarette.
Frankie cocks an eyebrow at the opened mouth of Joyce, who in turn forces a small smile.
“She’s a beautiful little girl.” Joyce says.
Faith’s mother shrugs indifferently and sighs. Obviously bored.
“Well, Faith, you’ve got a beautiful name too.” Hank whispers. He gets up and stands behind Buffy.
“This is our daughter. Her name’s Buffy. I think you’re about the same age.”
Faith seems to be confused, not exactly sure what they’re getting at.
Hank turns to Frankie.
“Maybe Faith and Buffy can play together some time? We’d be happy to have her over once in a while.”
Suddenly, Frankie’s eyes light up.
“For real? Cuz I swear, the kid freaks me out some times. You can take her now if ya want.” She says eagerly.
Faith bows her head in shame and her beautiful face is hidden behind her dark brown locks.
“Ah...” Joyce begins. She exchanges another look with her husband and nods in understanding.
“Sure. I think Buffy would like that too. Won’t you sweetie?”
The little blonde had been watching in wonderment and disbelief at the scene in front of her. She had never seen people act that way before, especially not a mother and daughter.
She nods slowly, not taking her eyes off Faith, who looked up surprised when she heard that they didn’t mind her coming over.
Poor Faith.
She seems to be frightened to death not only by her mother, but strangely also by Hank.
Chapter 4: The Doorstep, Part One
It's been a year since Faith and her mother have moved to Sunnydale. It's been a year since little Buffy and little Faith have met. It's only been a year... But Joyce knows she's in big trouble.
She had just finished making the sandwiches for lunch and had placed them in the fridge. She had sat down in the livingroom, deciding to relax a little with her favorite book. She had sat down in her favorite easy chair, she had taken a sip of her vanilla tea, she had clearly heard two little girls playing outside in the garden, and she had leaned back and opened her book.
She had been so caught up in the book, she hadn't noticed that the giggles and squeals had died down to nothing. When Alejandro had saved poor princess Josephine from the blazing fire, Joyce put her book down and listened. She heard the old clock ticking. She heard a little breeze entering from outside. But she did not hear the two little girls.
"Oh dear..." She mumbles as she stands up and walks towards the back lawn. Her demeanor is one of worry, but strangely enough...not worry for the little girls. Worry for the whole neighborhood who might once again be faced with one of the two little girls' not-so-well-thought-out plans.
"Buffy? Faith, sweetie?" She calls out shakily.
Nothing.
She finds toys scattered all over the garden, but no little girls. She jogs back inside the kitchen and frowns. Perhaps attempting to put herself in the little girls' position. What would they do? As she thinks of little Faith, a look of realization appears. Joyce smiles fondly but also a little triumphantly as she opens the cupboard holding the coveted cookie jar.
Her smile is yet again, turned into a frown. A confused one this time. The cookie jar was still where it was supposed to be. It had not been moved, and no signs of cookie-theft could be seen.
"They learn quick..." Joyce mutters dejectedly.
We would not expect any different from our two little leading ladies. The once so shy little brunette has blossomed into a rather loud but adorable troublemaker. And even though little Faith was the brain behind the whole cookie-operation, her blonde counterpart was not without leadership qualities.
With that in thought, Joyce rushes towards the front door, a silent prayer rushing through her mind. She opens the door, but is infinitely relieved to see her car safely parked on the driveway.
One must not forget the car-incident wherein a clearly blonde-haired little girl sat behind the steering wheel hysterically crying her scared little eyes out. Surprisingly, little Faith had saved the day, oddly knowing perfectly well where the breaks were.
The out of breath mother leans against the doorway, her right hand on her wildly beating chest. And then she hears it. She almost discards the muted thump, but hears it again. With a glint in her eye and an almost predatorlike grin, Joyce sneaks up the stairs. Though she would be careful not to mention it to the girls, she was at times quite entertained on the many occasions when the girls disappeared. At first, Joyce had panicked, almost called the police. But as time taught her, the girls were quite capable of taking care of themselves. It was everyone and everything else that was in danger. Yet, Joyce found pleasure in their intricate game.
Once upstairs, she hears silent whispers coming from her own bedroom door. Tip-toeing towards it, she leans against the wooden door as to make out the whispers.
"You owe me big time, B." She hears Faith grumble.
"Stop struggling!" Buffy squeaks. "I'm almost done, cry-baby."
Joyce can't help but smile as she hears Faith mutter something incoherently. She then decides to apply a little shock-therapy to the sneaky little girls. Throwing the door open, she steps into the room yelling.
"Surprise!"
"Iiiiiiiiiieeeeeee!" Buffy squeals and jumps behind her parents' bed. Not without first succesfully poking Faith in the eye with lipstick.
"Aaaaarrgh!" Faith yells, clasping her hands on the injured eye, she falls back in her chair, causing it to topple back.
Joyce stands in the doorway, silent. She was quite baffled with the sight in front of her. The contents of her closet had been strewn about the room. Her make-up table was a complete and utter mess. But what baffled her most, was the fact that Faith was wearing one of Joyce's more colorful skirts from in college. Faith was covered in an extravagant amount of blush, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. Her usually wild brown locks were covered in all sorts of spray and accesories.
"Owww..." Faith accidentally lets out as her left eye stings.
Joyce is immediately awoken from her bedazzled state and rushes to little girl's side.
"Faith, honey, are you ok?" She forgets how uncomfortable Faith is with physical contact and quickly gathers her in her arms.
The little brunette hesitates for a second, still not used to the loving attitude of the woman. She then sees Buffy cowering behind Joyce's shoulder.
"Uh-huh." She answers and glares at the wide-eyed blonde.
Joyce gently places Faith back on the floor, inspects her eye and then assesses the damage done to her bedroom.
"It was my fault." The girls blurt out together. They then look at the other, annoyed.
"I mean..." Buffy starts.
"Yeah, it was her fault." Faith finishes. Buffy looks at her partner in crime in shock and swats the brunette's arm.
Faith shrugs and points at her lipstick covered eye accusingly. Buffy rolls her eyes.
Joyce watches amused as the two little girls silently made a deal.
"Fine." Her daughter pouts. "It was my fault."
After Buffy had cleaned up with the help of an offended Faith, they had spent the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons in the living room. As the sun set, Joyce took Faith back next door. The little girl was very adept at hiding the weight that was once again being put upon her shoulders. Faith made sure to act as normal as possible, she made sure not to let the tears fall as she waved Buffy goodbye from her back door.
And as night fell and darkness claimed the small town, Faith would sit by her window, battered and bruised. She was sad because she wouldn't be able to play with Buffy for another week. She was mad because she had made her mom mad again. She should have tried harder to take off all the make-up. She was mad at herself for being all those things her mom called her. She didn't want to be a slut, a whore. She was sad and bleeding, but she wouldn't cry. She was mad and hurting, but she wouldn't scream.
The little girl looked out her window, into Buffy's room, where the small blonde slept peacefully in her soft bed. Faith smiled, content that her partner was ok.
Chapter 5: There's No Place Like Home
It's been a year since Faith and her mother have moved to Sunnydale. It's been a year since little Buffy and little Faith have met. It's only been a year... But Joyce knows she's in big trouble.
She had just finished making the sandwiches for lunch and had placed them in the fridge. She had sat down in the livingroom, deciding to relax a little with her favorite book. She had sat down in her favorite easy chair, she had taken a sip of her vanilla tea, she had clearly heard two little girls playing outside in the garden, and she had leaned back and opened her book.
She had been so caught up in the book, she hadn't noticed that the giggles and squeals had died down to nothing. When Alejandro had saved poor princess Josephine from the blazing fire, Joyce put her book down and listened. She heard the old clock ticking. She heard a little breeze entering from outside. But she did not hear the two little girls.
"Oh dear..." She mumbles as she stands up and walks towards the back lawn. Her demeanor is one of worry, but strangely enough...not worry for the little girls. Worry for the whole neighborhood who might once again be faced with one of the two little girls' not-so-well-thought-out plans.
"Buffy? Faith, sweetie?" She calls out shakily.
Nothing.
She finds toys scattered all over the garden, but no little girls. She jogs back inside the kitchen and frowns. Perhaps attempting to put herself in the little girls' position. What would they do? As she thinks of little Faith, a look of realization appears. Joyce smiles fondly but also a little triumphantly as she opens the cupboard holding the coveted cookie jar.
Her smile is yet again, turned into a frown. A confused one this time. The cookie jar was still where it was supposed to be. It had not been moved, and no signs of cookie-theft could be seen.
"They learn quick..." Joyce mutters dejectedly.
We would not expect any different from our two little leading ladies. The once so shy little brunette has blossomed into a rather loud but adorable troublemaker. And even though little Faith was the brain behind the whole cookie-operation, her blonde counterpart was not without leadership qualities.
With that in thought, Joyce rushes towards the front door, a silent prayer rushing through her mind. She opens the door, but is infinitely relieved to see her car safely parked on the driveway.
One must not forget the car-incident wherein a clearly blonde-haired little girl sat behind the steering wheel hysterically crying her scared little eyes out. Surprisingly, little Faith had saved the day, oddly knowing perfectly well where the breaks were.
The out of breath mother leans against the doorway, her right hand on her wildly beating chest. And then she hears it. She almost discards the muted thump, but hears it again. With a glint in her eye and an almost predatorlike grin, Joyce sneaks up the stairs. Though she would be careful not to mention it to the girls, she was at times quite entertained on the many occasions when the girls disappeared. At first, Joyce had panicked, almost called the police. But as time taught her, the girls were quite capable of taking care of themselves. It was everyone and everything else that was in danger. Yet, Joyce found pleasure in their intricate game.
Once upstairs, she hears silent whispers coming from her own bedroom door. Tip-toeing towards it, she leans against the wooden door as to make out the whispers.
"You owe me big time, B." She hears Faith grumble.
"Stop struggling!" Buffy squeaks. "I'm almost done, cry-baby."
Joyce can't help but smile as she hears Faith mutter something incoherently. She then decides to apply a little shock-therapy to the sneaky little girls. Throwing the door open, she steps into the room yelling.
"Surprise!"
"Iiiiiiiiiieeeeeee!" Buffy squeals and jumps behind her parents' bed. Not without first succesfully poking Faith in the eye with lipstick.
"Aaaaarrgh!" Faith yells, clasping her hands on the injured eye, she falls back in her chair, causing it to topple back.
Joyce stands in the doorway, silent. She was quite baffled with the sight in front of her. The contents of her closet had been strewn about the room. Her make-up table was a complete and utter mess. But what baffled her most, was the fact that Faith was wearing one of Joyce's more colorful skirts from in college. Faith was covered in an extravagant amount of blush, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. Her usually wild brown locks were covered in all sorts of spray and accesories.
"Owww..." Faith accidentally lets out as her left eye stings.
Joyce is immediately awoken from her bedazzled state and rushes to little girl's side.
"Faith, honey, are you ok?" She forgets how uncomfortable Faith is with physical contact and quickly gathers her in her arms.
The little brunette hesitates for a second, still not used to the loving attitude of the woman. She then sees Buffy cowering behind Joyce's shoulder.
"Uh-huh." She answers and glares at the wide-eyed blonde.
Joyce gently places Faith back on the floor, inspects her eye and then assesses the damage done to her bedroom.
"It was my fault." The girls blurt out together. They then look at the other, annoyed.
"I mean..." Buffy starts.
"Yeah, it was her fault." Faith finishes. Buffy looks at her partner in crime in shock and swats the brunette's arm.
Faith shrugs and points at her lipstick covered eye accusingly. Buffy rolls her eyes.
Joyce watches amused as the two little girls silently made a deal.
"Fine." Her daughter pouts. "It was my fault."
After Buffy had cleaned up with the help of an offended Faith, they had spent the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons in the living room. As the sun set, Joyce took Faith back next door. The little girl was very adept at hiding the weight that was once again being put upon her shoulders. Faith made sure to act as normal as possible, she made sure not to let the tears fall as she waved Buffy goodbye from her back door.
And as night fell and darkness claimed the small town, Faith would sit by her window, battered and bruised. She was sad because she wouldn't be able to play with Buffy for another week. She was mad because she had made her mom mad again. She should have tried harder to take off all the make-up. She was mad at herself for being all those things her mom called her. She didn't want to be a slut, a whore. She was sad and bleeding, but she wouldn't cry. She was mad and hurting, but she wouldn't scream.
The little girl looked out her window, into Buffy's room, where the small blonde slept peacefully in her soft bed. Faith smiled, content that her partner was ok.
