beer_good_foamy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beer_good_foamy) wrote2006-09-01 11:35 am
beer_good_foamy) wrote2006-09-01 11:35 am
Entry tags:
Atonement's A Bitch
...when you're an escaped murderer trying to fight alongside those you've hurt. But you'd hardly know it from Buffy s7, so this is a series of 'missing scene' fics about Faith’s and the others' attempts to deal with her past and present.
I love Faith. The five episodes she got on Angel are all among my favourite eps of that series, largely because of the interplay between Faith, Wes and Angel and the character development on all three of them when they get together. However, once she crossed back over to Buffy, a lot of that took a back seat. I wanted to explore what might happen behind the scenes, so this basically follows canon but hopefully with more character insight.
Also, if you want to know the background for this, in-jokes etc, here's an annotated version of the fic.
This won first place in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
good__evil's december challenge 2006.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
selene2 for the lovely plaque!
Pairing: Faith/Wood in one chapter, though that's not the focus of it.
Chapters: 9
Rating: PG13/R
Scenes 1-6 below.
Scene 7 and 8 here.
Scene 9 here.
ATONEMENT'S A BITCH
Scene 1 - Scene 2 - Scene 3 - Scene 4 - Scene 5 - Scene 6
2 Kool 2 B 4-Gotten
Author’s note: Missing scene from the Angel episode "Salvage". I borrowed some dialogue, written by David Fury, so credit to him along with the usual props to Joss & co.
Cold water.
Faith held her face underwater until stars began dancing in front of her eyes and then a few seconds more before pulling up, gasping for air and catching a glimpse of herself in the little mirror by the sink in her cell. She still felt the adrenaline pumping from the fight; it had been a while since she’d used her muscles for anything but working out. She had gotten into fights in her first few weeks in the slammer, and when no one managed to take her one-on-one they eventually tried twelve-on-one. She sent most of them to the infirmary and did a couple of weeks in solitary, and in the years after that everyone had stayed clear of her.
And then, out of nowhere, this. Her and Deb had never been friends – Faith didn't have any friends in here – but they'd never been enemies either. Yet Deb had attacked her in broad daylight, waving a big-ass knife and refusing to stop even when it was clear she didn't stand a chance. That wasn't the scary part, though; no, the part that had Faith panicking now was how easy it would have been – how good it would have felt – to just hit her a little bit harder. Not just knock her out, but put her down once and for all. It might have delayed her parole hearing by a couple of years... oh, there's a joke. "Sorry, instead of walking out of here when you're 70 you have to wait 'til you're 73." Not that she'd thought that through at the time; grabbing that barbell and almost smashing Deb's face flat into the ground had been instinct. Holding back at the last second had been... she wasn't sure. But was this really how far she'd come? All this time working on herself, trying to become someone better, and it just takes one little brawl with an overweight car thief to...
You're still not seeing the big picture, B. Something made us different. We're warriors. We're built to kill.
Part of her had been relieved when she was convicted of murder, not manslaughter, even if it meant an extra 10 years. "Murderer" was a good word; fair, simple, cut'n'dry. "Slayer" was a word she figured she could go a good long while without hearing again. That wasn't where all her problems had started, but it sure as shit hadn't helped any. She'd fucked up. Great. She was paying for it. Great. She'd probably die of old age before she got to see a vampire again. Great. So fucking STOP the Slayer shit already! She punched the wall hard, and it barely hurt even though the concrete gave under her fist. Yup, superpowers still there. As if last night and this afternoon hadn't proved that.
All Slayers have dreams. Usually, they're not too bad once you get used to them; memories of other Slayers, visions of impending doom, the usual crap. She didn’t know if it was some kind of weird-ass Slayer mechanism or just ordinary psychology, but here's the wicked bit: the dreams got much worse when you didn’t get to sla... kill anything. Still, most of the time they weren't any worse than any other nightmares.
Of course, some of them had been worse than others. B dying, for instance, that had been a whopper; woke her up an hour before lights-on, screaming her lungs out. She freaked out so badly that they had her seeing the prison shrink for months afterwards. Of course, she had never told him shit; what was she going to say? "See, I have this mystical psychic bond to one of the people whose lives I tried to ruin. I betrayed her, she almost killed me for it, I paid her back by stealing her body, and there was this whole... Anyway, she just killed herself, and it felt like I was ripped out of my own head. Like there were two of me and none of me at the same time. I felt her die, I felt her hit the ground, I’m feeling her rot as we speak, and everything in my head keeps screaming it's my fault somehow. So how was your day?"
Of course, Buffy had come back, and it got a bit easier. Back to the same ol' same ol' and once again she could forget about The Slayer and just be a murderer with weird dreams. Until a couple of months ago when the dreams got worse. Every night for weeks on end she had the same vision: young girls being hunted down and killed like cattle. Everything about the dreams seemed to beg for her to do something about it, and she'd woken up a couple of times wanting to yell "WRONG NUMBER!" Didn't they get that she was OUT? Couldn't whatever ran these things leave her the fuck alone? Apparently not, because last night she got the mother of all visions. It had been brief, but crystal clear: a huge cave, filled with thousands and thousands of... she guessed they were vampires, but not like any she'd seen before. Ugly fuckers. And of course, that chant that had turned up in all her dreams lately suddenly seemed to make sense.
From beneath you, it devours.
It scared the shit out of her, and she could only hope B, Angel and the others were on their toes. Whatever it was, and as bad as the dreams were, she was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with it. She wasn't a Slayer anymore, she was a murderer, and she was right where she belonged. Four walls, no one getting too close, three squares a day and everything under control. She took a deep breath, splashed some more water in her face and left her cell.
The rec area of her block was just as boring as the rest of this place. An old TV, a couple of couches and tables and a shelf with some games and shit. Games usually require at least two people, so mostly she just watched TV. A couple of girls got up and let her have a couch to herself – funny how no one ever wanted to sit close to her. There was some weird sci-fi show on: a bunch of cows being herded off a space ship, if you'd believe that, into a large green field beneath an open sky. A girl was sitting with the cows, talking to them.
"They weren't cows inside. They were waiting to be, but they forgot. Now they see sky and they remember what they are."
One of the inmates – Joanna, a lifer who had only been here six months and probably wouldn't last six more – sighed longingly, obviously relating. One of the older girls laughed at her. "You know they're being sold for slaughter, right?"
Faith ignored the resulting shouting match and tried to keep watching, only to be interrupted by a guard stepping in front of her.
"Lehane? Your lawyer's here."
She looked up at him. "My lawyer? What lawyer?"
"Gee, I don't know, girl like you gotta have a whole team of lawyers, right? Said it was urgent, so move it."
Faith followed the guard to the visiting area – she hadn't been here too often. Angel used to visit her when he had a chance, but then they'd restricted the visiting hours to daytime and he hadn't been by since. That was a year ago. She had no idea who it could be this time, but –
Oh.
Him.
She hesitated – images of blood and violence flashing before her, not visions this time but good ol' fashioned memories – before sitting down to talk to her watcher.
"They told me my lawyer was here to see me. You my lawyer now, Wes?"
"Hello, Faith. How are you?"
It was plain that Wesley didn't want to be here anymore than she wanted to face him, 'cause he sure didn't sound like his fondest wish in life was to work with her again. Not that she could blame him after what she did. And this wasn't the prissy, well-groomed Wesley she'd met in Sunnydale; this was someone who'd gone to the end of his rope and then just been too fucking mean to not keep going. She knew that look. She hoped he hadn't learned it from her.
"We need you."
Oh, please. She got it now. OK, let's go through the motions and then he can go back to Angel and say he tried, she can go back to the spacecows, and everyone's happy and out of each other's life again. "It's Armageddon again. I dig. The last thing you need's me in the mix. Besides, Angel'll come shining through in the end like he always does."
"Angel's gone, Faith. Angelus is back."
It took Wesley's words a couple of seconds to sink in. Once they did, she didn't think it through, just acted on instinct. "Step away from the glass."
As they bolted across the parking lot towards Wesley's car, she absently brushed shards of bullet-proof glass out of her hair and glanced up at the sky. And tried not to forget what she was.
Author's note: Oh, and the quote about the cows is from the Firefly episode "Safe", written by Drew Z Greenberg. If you haven't watched Firefly – get to it already.
Back up top
Miles to go
I always thought it was a pity we never got to see Willow and Faith talk out their differences and similarities on the show. So this starts out in a car between LA and Sunnydale, and also between "Orpheus" and "Dirty Girls".
After they said goodbye to Angel and the gang, Willow's smile had faded pretty much the second they stepped out of the hotel. The car was quiet as they left LA and got onto the freeway.
Faith felt weird. She'd spent a lot of time thinking of what she might say to Buffy (and never came up with anything good) but sitting here with Willow wasn't something she'd prepared for. She knew the other woman had hated her guts for years – long before Buffy had, even.
You're just a big selfish, worthless waste.
I wish those council guys would let me have an hour alone in the room with her. If I was larger and had grenades.
Well, here they were, in a tiny little room for the next two hours, and judging from what had happened in LA Willow might not have grown any larger but she did pack some serious firepower these days. So Faith figured it was probably a good idea to keep her mouth shut –Willow certainly didn't seem eager for conversation – but some things needed clearing up, and there really was no easy way to start. Oh, what the fuck. Just jump in. Like you always do.
"OK, I'm guessing it's a female someone."
"What?" Willow almost lost control of the car for a second.
"You told Fred you were seeing someone. So was I right about that last time we met?"
Willow didn't answer, just kept her eyes on the road... but she didn't deny it, either.
"Wow. Cool. And to think I was mostly just trying to be mean to... Sarah?"
"It's Tara. Drop the subject."
OK, sore spot. "So we're not gonna do the small-talk thing?"
Willow answered by not answering.
"OK, fine. I'll do the talking. What you said about needing me in Sunnydale... are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, I was in jail for three years before Wesley busted me out, and in all that time exactly one person... well, vampire visited me. Ever. I kinda got the hint."
Willow stared at her incredulously for a second. "Well, I hate to break it to ya, but..."
"Whoah, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. People want to forget about me, I totally get that. And I'm not trying to chicken out. I'm just saying I need to know if you really meant it, or if B's gonna want to slit my throat and shit down my neck the second I walk in that door. Because in that case, I'd rather save all of you the trouble and go back to my cell. The way I figure, the last thing you need right now is someone who'll just open a lot of old wounds."
Willow looked at the slayer again, and saw that she was serious. She turned her eyes back to the road. "OK, the last time I was honest with you you went psycho and pulled a knife on me, but seeing as you just saved Angel's life I guess you deserve the truth. We're up against something that makes everything we've ever fought look like a grumpy kitten, we're probably all gonna die, and we need every fighter we can get. But just so you know..." Willow took a deep breath. "The last person in Sunnydale who even liked you, Faith, turned into a snake and went kablooie four years ago. No one has forgotten what you are and no one will be turning their back on you. You won't have to worry about anyone on our side attacking you first; but there will be plenty of beasties lined up to do that. If you're up for it, that's what you can expect. If not, I'll drop you off at the prison gates right now. 'Kay?"
Faith nodded. "Fair enough." Then she pointed to the neon sign of a diner looming up ahead. "Listen, could we get something to eat first? I haven't had a bite since yesterday, I almost died twice since then and this really isn't something I want to decide on an empty stomach."
"OK, I'm used to slayer appetites, but... damn." Willow nodded at Faith's half of the table, loaded down with dozens of plates with just about everything the diner offered.
"Yeah. Thanks for paying, I'd totally forgotten about... you know... money."
Willow watched with astonishment as Faith started packing away greasy food like a sumo wrestler coming off a diet. "Jail will do that, I s'pose... I hear Stockton's supposed to be really tough. Was it really tough?" That last question sounded way too much like gee-I-really-hope-you-hated-every-second-of-it, but Faith didn't seem to notice.
"Actually, most of the time it wasn't that bad. After I showed some people that I could take care of myself and spent much of the first six months in solitary, everyone pretty much left me alone. All in all, it wasn't the worst three years of my life."
"Sounds downright cosy."
"Except... funny thing about prison, Red: everyone is innocent, no matter what you're convicted for. They got set up by the cops, it was self defense, their lawyer was incontinent..."
"I think you mean incompetent."
"Whatever. I'm just saying I've made enough excuses, you know? The last thing I need is to start telling myself I'm innocent." Faith emptied a bottle of ketchup over a huge plate of fries. "Most of the time it was just... boring. Tons of free time and nothing to do."
"Don't they have a library?" Faith shot her an amused look. "Oh. Right. Sorry."
"Also, you know, being cooped up with nothing but women becomes frustrating..."
"I could think of worse things."
Faith gasped in pretend shock as she raised her second king size Coke. "Was that a joke, Red? Did you and I just share a joke?"
Willow just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Faith ate, and the waitress topped off Willow's coffee mug.
"So are there any other changes I should know about in Sunnydale? Just so I don't give anyone any more reasons to hate me..."
Willow thought about it. God, three years... a lot of things had happened, most of which she really didn't feel like sharing with Faith. "Just... y'know, demons, government conspiracies, stuff like that..." Then she thought of something. "Joyce died about two years ago."
Faith stopped eating and stared at her. "Wha... Oh shit, I'm really..." She stopped herself as everything came flooding back again, and looked down at her food. Don't say you're sorry. You got no right. Joyce took you into her home, you almost killed her, and you'll never get a chance to make up for it. Or anything else. "Fuck it, Re- Willow, maybe this isn't such a good idea. I mean, it's not like I just spilled ketchup on B's favorite shirt or something. It's way too late, I can't... it's..."
"What?" Willow interrupted, raising her voice, then lowering it again when she saw the other guests eyeing her. "Like you lost control and let everyone down? Like you killed people, and then tried to kill the ones who wanted to help you? Like you can't expect anyone else to trust you since you don't even trust yourself, and nothing you say or do will ever change what's happened... am I in the ballpark?"
Faith looked at her, taking it in, then thoughtfully started on her third burger. "So, you too, huh? Lemme guess: none of my business?"
The redhead grimaced, but calmed down. "Not really."
"But you're going back there anyway? Try to be a good guy?" What she really wanted to know was if they had taken her back, but even if she'd thought Willow would answer she didn't think the same rules would apply to her.
"I kinda have to, y'know?" Willow was gazing out the dark window, past her own reflection. "If I don't... then nothing good I ever did matters. The darkness beat me, that's all I was good for... and I never deserved her. I couldn't live with that."
The slayer nodded. For a while, the only sound was that of Faith wolfing down a basket of blueberry muffins. "So you're saying we're all gonna die?"
"Yup, that's pretty much the plan."
"Fine. Long as I don't have to listen to Barry Manilow again, I'm in." Faith finished her milkshake, then sat back and unbuckled her belt. "Man, I'm full."
"You sure? I think they have pie..."
"Nah, I'm good."
"Well... I guess we'll see about that, huh?" Willow offered something that might have been a smile as she got out her wallet and paid the waitress. Faith made sure to walk in front of Willow as they returned to the car. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost
Back up top
Eavesdropping
"What the HELL is she doing here?" A few hours had gone by since Willow had showed up with Faith, and since then everyone had been pretty busy. When Dawn finally managed to corner Buffy and Giles in the kitchen she let them have it. "Did you forget who that is? What she did to you, and Angel, and me, and Mom, and..."
"Dawn..."
Buffy didn't have to say anymore than that; Dawn knew what that look meant. It always hurt just as bad, even though she knew her sister meant no harm. Faith didn't do anything to you. You didn’t even exist. All your memories of her are made up. Of course, that never made them seem any less real – for her or anyone else. She wondered if it was a sin to hate monks. "OK, but that doesn't change the fact that Faith is a killer. She’s betrayed everyone who ever tried to help her, she... Giles?" She looked to the older man for support, but got none.
"Dawn, Buffy's right about this." Dawn didn't miss out on the angry glare from Buffy to her former watcher - about THIS?. "People can change, Dawn. Angel did. Willow did."
"Spike did", Buffy muttered.
Giles ignored her. "If there is any chance that Faith can be rehabilitated, we owe it to her to take it."
"Yeah, ‘cause nothing says rehabilitation like breaking out of jail."
"And do you think they could have kept a Slayer in jail for three years if she wanted out?"
Dawn looked down, knowing this was another argument she was going to lose. "Fine. But I'm sleeping with Will and Kennedy tonight." She went bright red. "I-in their room, I mean. With psychoslayer in the house, it can't hurt to have a bodyguard or two."
Buffy blew a gasket. "If you think for one second that I would let her hurt you –"
"Why not? ‘Spike did!’"
Tempers flared up again and voices grew louder.
Out in the hall, Faith couldn’t help hearing every word. She’d tried to find someplace to think, but the whole house was full of teenage girls. At least back in jail she had her own cell. This place was too fucking crowded, she needed to get out of here...
She got as far as the porch and sat down, taking a deep breath of night air before lighting up a cigarette and looking out over the lawn. It was raining – just a slight drizzle, but enough so she was alone out here. This was a good spot. When was the last time she’d sat here? Right, Christmas. Four years ago. The snowstorm that came out of nowhere while she was stuck babysitting... nah, scratch that. She wasn't stuck. She had loved it. Christmas with Joyce and Dawn, eggnog, fireplace, laughter... it had just seemed right, somehow. Like something she would have liked to have. She'd tried to teach Dawn the basics of snowman construction, and then sat right here smoking while the 12-year-old who'd never even seen snow before tried to build one. Of course, the lousy California snow had been to loose for it, and it had turned into a snowball fight instead. She had felt a part of something. It had been a good feeling. And she'd fucked it up.
"So... you're Faith, huh? Heard a lot about you."
Shaken out of her memories, Faith looked up at the potential who'd come out of the house to stand next to her. Great, so much for personal space. "Seems everyone has. Can't say the same though...?"
"Rona."
Faith looked back out at the yard, taking a drag. "Think I can make a pretty good guess what you've heard."
The girl sat down next to her. "Hey, don't be so sure about that. You know, we been talking a lot about you... I mean, you can probably guess Buffy ain't the most popular person around here these days. Thinks she’s some kind of boss and we’re just supposed to follow her orders. At least you've stood up to her. She could use a reminder that she's not the only one who -"
"Stood up to...?" Faith stared at her in disbelief. "Oh man, you so don't know what you're talking about."
"No? So all the hassle about you coming back is about what?"
"I didn't 'stand up' to B. I tried to fucking kill her. Her, Xander, Willow, just about anyone inside that house who’s not lining up to wear my boots when I kick it." She shuddered as she remembered the last time she'd been here, three years earlier. "Shit... you wanna know about ‘standing up’? Dawn told me once she thought I was way cooler than Buffy, that I wasn’t always going on about rules and responsibilities, and that she’d much rather be my sister. Now she hates my guts, you know why? Because when she was 13 years old and about a foot shorter than she is now I barged through that front door, knocked her and her mother out cold, tied her up, held her hostage and told her all about how I was going to start cutting her up in front of her mother if her sister didn’t get here soon. She begged me not to and I laughed at her. You know what that's like for a kid, to have someone you look up to go out of their way to hurt you in every way they know?" Faith put out her cigarette against the porch and got up, clearly disgusted. "You think that makes me, what, Clint fuckin' Eastwood? Think again. I ain’t saying Buffy can’t be a prissy bitch sometimes, but if I see any of you start acting like me, I will put. You. Down. Got me?"
Rona nodded, taking a few too many steps back. "So why...?"
The question hung there unfinished. Why did you do it? Why are you back? Faith shrugged. She was still figuring that out herself. "Sharks gotta swim, bats gotta fly." Turning around to go back inside, she stopped cold in her tracks. The front door was open, and Dawn was standing right in it, glaring at her. She’d heard every word. Oh man.
Dawn crossed her arms and faced the Slayer, relishing the fact that she was actually the tallest of the two. They stood there for a few seconds before Faith looked down and squeezed past her inside. She made it to the foot of the stairs before Dawn spoke her name.
"Faith?"
She wanted to turn around, but couldn’t. What was she supposed to say? "Sorry"? Yeah, that always worked. Finally Dawn settled for talking to her back.
"You know, if you expect me to just forget about what you did to Buffy or Mom, that’s not gonna happen. But... what happened between you and me, I wanna forget it. All of it, good and bad. Clean slate, like we never met before."
"Look, Dawn... don't think I don't appreciate it, but I'm not sure I should-"
"I just thought that you'd have enough to feel bad about. It's not exactly my favorite memory either, and if you plan on sticking around it's not something I want to be thinking about every time I see you. If you want, we could just decide right now that it never happened."
Faith looked at her. She had grown up a lot. "You did get me pretty good with that snowball, though."
The younger girl shrugged and held her hand out. "Dawn Summers."
Faith looked at it for a few seconds before taking and shaking it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Faith."
"Yeah? I heard a lot about you..."
"Seems everyone has."
Back up top
Innocent When You Dream
Author’s note: missing scene from between "Dirty Girls" and "Empty Spaces".
It was 3 AM and Buffy couldn't sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s rest, but lately it had been even worse. Rather than spend all night tossing and turning she got up and wandered around the house, stepping carefully over the girls asleep everywhere in extra beds, sleeping bags or just blankets on the floor. Potentials, Slayers-In-Training, Perhaps-Someday-To-Be-Chosen Ones; just ordinary girls, some of them thousands of miles from home, and looking to her to teach and protect them. And many of them might... no, would die before this was over. Even if she had a plan, which she didn’t, the hardline was still this: scared teenagers on one side, near-unstoppable monsters on the other. Hopeless.
She walked past a couple of girls whose names she, for the life of her, couldn’t remember right now. Probably a good thing; the more personal it got, the harder it would be. Buffy had known since she was 15 that she would die young, and accepted risking her own life, but this was different. Sacrificing innocent girls who hadn’t signed up for this? Playing chess – or let’s face it, it would probably be more like bowling – with real people? She didn’t think she had that in her. She wasn’t that hard, that cold. Not like...
She stopped pacing as she found herself standing in front of the one girl in here whose face and name she knew every detail of.
Faith was curled up in one of the easy chairs Xander had brought over from his apartment before he... (no, don’t go there. She couldn’t think about Xander and what she had let happen to him.) The other Slayer had refused a bed – probably thinking no one would have given theirs up for her anyway – but of course ended up sleeping more comfortably than most of the girls in here. Andrew’s speech seemed to have done its job; the only free space in the entire living room was a circle of a couple of feet around Faith’s chair. Whether that was from fear, respect or both, Buffy didn’t know, but she figured it was a good idea not to crowd her counterpart – Faith had had her back tonight, and they’d gotten along reasonably well, but there was no telling how stable that truce was. How stable Faith was, for that matter. Buffy sighed. This is stupid. Maybe Dawn is right, she can't be trusted... or maybe it's just that I can't trust her? Same diff. I can't go into battle looking over my shoulder to make sure she's not getting ready to turn on me, or run away again, or... Was that why everything had gone wrong tonight? Had she been distracted because she didn't trust Faith?
Buffy wished she could talk to Giles or Willow about this, but... no. Like everything else, this would have to be her decision. Faith couldn't stay, and she had to find some way to tell her tomorrow. Maybe with a weapon nearby, just in case. But as she turned to go upstairs, she frowned and then turned back and took a closer look at the sleeping brunette. Something was different.
Buffy had seen Faith in a lot of moods over the years. Happy Faith (usually after she killed something), Sarcastic Faith (a lot of that one), Arrogant Faith (not to be trusted), even once – and this was a memory Buffy would never admit to another living soul – Horny Faith. But then there had been Cold Faith, Angry Faith, Insane Faith... and Broken Faith, Humbled Faith. But even when they'd been at their closest (and seriously, that was a one-time thing, heat of battle and stuff, and it wasn’t even much of a thing at all, really) there had been a huge part of Faith she couldn't reach, something she kept walled off. And when all that darkness and hate and self-loathing came out, it had seemed bottomless. Things must have started to go wrong for Faith long before she ever came to Sunnydale. That didn’t excuse anything she’d done, and Buffy still found it hard to feel sorry for her – but she had, sometimes, asked herself if there was something she could have done differently, if there was anything good left in Faith that she could have reached in time.
She looked at Faith again, and saw something she'd never seen before. The other Slayer was in a deep sleep, dreaming, and it seemed to be a good one – not the waking-up-sweaty kind of good, either; a hint of a childish smile on her lips, relaxed, free of worries and hurt, at complete peace. Under all those different faces, behind all those walls was something else... call her Innocent Faith. Buffy had no idea how deep down that one was or what memory she clung to, but she was still down there somewhere, strong enough to hold on. And tonight, at least for a moment, while the others slept, she'd made it up top. She wondered if –
"MOMMY!" One of the potentials cried out in her sleep, and Faith was awake and on her feet in the blink of an eye. When she realized there was no immediate danger she looked questioningly at the other Slayer, but didn't relax. Faith was herself again, tense and fidgety, ready to spring into action.
"What's up, B? We under attack?"
"No, it's nothing, I was just... I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about what's coming."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Faith grimaced as she sat back down and pulled her legs up. "From beneath you, it devours. Really gives me the creeps, you know?"
Buffy nodded. "Oh yeah. Big creep factor." But as she walked back upstairs, she wasn't so sure she meant that. And just maybe she could get a couple of hours sleep after all. Just maybe she ought to put off that talk she had planned for tomorrow.
Just maybe there was a chance that good things can devour from beneath, too.
Back up top
Windmills
Author's note: Missing scene from "Touched". Contains some dialogue written by Rebecca Rand Kirshner.
Faith slumped back onto Buffy's bed. "Huh."
In spite of everything that had happened between them, not to mention the events of the last 72 hours, Giles had felt oddly proud when Faith awkwardly asked him to help her plan tomorrow's mission. When he realized Buffy had only told her the bare necessities, their planning session had extended to a run-through of everything that had happened this year; about The First, about the Slayer line... and about the origins of the Slayer, how the shadowmen had taken a girl and infused her with the spirit of a demon. Now he looked at the shell-shocked expression on Faith's face and wondered if perhaps he should have left the last bit out. "Look, I may have put that the wrong way..."
"No, that's cool." Faith's head was spinning and she stared right through him, swallowing hard. "So I'm a demon. Shoulda known. Kinda explains a lot, you know?"
"Faith, it doesn't change who you are."
She laughed flatly. "Damn right it don't. I mean, I may not be much of a Slayer, but I've killed enough of'em to know that one thing demons don't do is change. No free will, right? They're built to kill and that's all they ever do. If demons could be rehabilitated, me and B would be... vampire therapists or something." And here she'd actually thought that maybe everyone had been wrong... even Wesley. This the part where you tell me you’ve turned a new leaf? Found God? Inner peace? We both know that isn’t true. You haven’t changed. You can’t. You’re a rabid dog who should have been put down years ago.
"And what about Angel?" Giles briefly considered the irony that he (of all people) was using Angel (of all people) as an example to help Faith (of all people), then pushed it away. "Is that all he ever did?"
"Angel has a soul-"
"So do you."
"Ya think? Gee, what gave it away? Killing people? Running away? Standing by and watching B get kicked out of her own house, and then capping it by running Spike out too? Yeah, I'm just chock full of soul."
(Finally got what you wanted, didn’t you?)
Faith sat quietly for a few seconds, wishing she could talk to Angel or even Wesley, but they weren't here. "You know something, G? The other night, after we tried to fight that priest guy and everyone got killed or hurt or..." She took a deep breath. "I slept like a baby that night. I was happy. We fucked up and I loved it. I thought I was just that glad to be fighting with you guys again, win or lose... but what if it's just the hellmouth calling me home? Everyone expects me to do Buffy's job better than her, and how the hell am I supposed to know if I'm not just leading everyone to their death? I mean, demon or not, I'm not exactly known for making the right choices..."
"Well, there’s the fact that you're trying." Giles looked at her, surprised himself at how much that meant. Somewhere at the back of his mind his Watcher training urged him to reassure her, to get his soldier ready for battle. He hoped that wasn't all he was doing. "You have changed, Faith. The Faith I knew four years ago would have been ecstatic to be rid of Buffy, and probably wouldn't have thought twice about putting others in danger. You may not want to be the one in charge, but... You could have stayed in jail, yet you chose to come to what is possibly the most dangerous place on Earth right now, and I refuse to believe that you did so because you're evil. I won’t lie to you – merely trying will probably not be enough. But it’s all any of us can do. And if I can help you in any way..."
"Woah, back it up." Faith seemed to realize something. "You tryin’ to be my Watcher again?"
The older man leaned on Buffy's dresser and cleaned his glasses. "Would that be a bad thing?"
Faith got off the bed and paced back and forth. "Look, I appreciate the thought, but... In case you forgot, my track record with Watchers ain’t exactly a hundred percent. I let Kakistos kill Miss Davies, then Miss Post tried to have me killed, and Wesley... God..."
Giles looked at her with alarm. "You don’t mean that Wesley is –"
"Oh, no, he’s alive... if you call it that. No thanks to me, though." Part of her believed that; another part, one she tried to keep quiet, disagreed. Hell, from the looks of it, you kept him alive. Taught him about pain. Made him a survivor, a monster like yourself. She slammed that door in her head – for now – and the voice shut up. "I don't suppose you could settle for just being... I dunno, a spotter or something? Just stop me if I take on too much?"
"Of course."
"I mean, I don't wanna go off fighting any... steel mills or whatever that was you said to B earlier. Sounds wicked hard."
"Windmills," the Watcher automatically corrected. Seeing the puzzled look on her face, he continued. "It's from a book, the story of Don Quijote. He was... an old man who had read too many books and thought he was a hero destined to fight monsters and save damsels in distress. At one point he attacks a windmill thinking it's a giant, and almost gets killed."
The Slayer seemed to take this in. "So the monsters weren't real?"
"Not in that story, no. It was all in his head."
"But they're real here, right?" Giles nodded. There were a few seconds of silence before Faith stretched her back and cracked her knuckles. "OK then. Let's see what we got." She walked back to the maps spread out on Buffy's dresser, looking them over intently as if she was expecting them to give some sort of answer. "Sewer tunnel on the North side is closest so guess we’ll start there."
"Sounds fine. What time shall I tell everyone?"
"How about... around seven?" She fumed at the insecurity in her own voice. Don't be afraid to lead them. "Seven sharp. So tomorrow we fight."
"Tomorrow. Goodnight, Faith." Giles offered a brief smile as he headed for the door, then turned back. "And Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"You’re doing just fine."
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Scar Tissue
Author's note: Missing scene from "Touched", right after the whole... you know... the everybody-but-Andrew-gets-laid bit.
Faith flopped back onto the pillow, panting as she came down. "Oh, damn. I needed that."
"No kidding?" Robin grinned, starting to catch his breath again. "I think I pulled something."
"Sorry, but... Three years, man. Things get built up."
"And there go my fantasies of what goes on in women's prisons", Robin sighed.
She chuckled. "Hey, I ain't knockin' it, I mean it's obviously working out for Red..." The walls weren't all that thick, and as busy as they'd been they couldn't help but notice they weren't the only ones looking for some release. "It just wasn't for me. Spent most of my time in solitary, if you know what I mean."
Robin hadn't known Faith for long, but it felt good to hear her laugh; he had a feeling she hadn't done that either in a while. The relaxed smile looked good on her – a little too good, maybe. It reminded him how young she was... well, that and the fact that she was lying naked next to him and didn't seem at all embarrassed about it; the way she talked – and the way she'd just done some things to him that definitely weren't in the beginner's manual – he had almost forgotten that he had about 10 years on her, and he didn't consider himself very old. He couldn't help wondering how she'd gotten here, what had happened to -
"See anything you like?" There was an amused tone to her voice and Robin realized his eyes had been wandering a little too obviously, but she didn't seem to mind. Then everything happened very quickly. One second she was lying next to him and he was partly covered with a sheet, the next the sheet was halfway across the room and she was straddling his legs. When he tried to move she playfully pinned him down like he didn't weigh anything. "Uh-uh-uh. Fair's fair, you got your peek, my turn." She sat back, grinning, giving him a thorough appraisal in the faint light of the lamp on the bedside table. "Not bad. You work out? That’s a nasty one you got there, though."
He followed her gaze down past his stomach, not sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, until he realized she was talking about the ugly scar across his thigh. "Yeah. A vampire almost took my leg off with a crowbar once. Not all of us have Slayer strength to fall back on."
"Oh, hey, don't forget the super healing. Without that I'd have one or five of those myself."
Of course, even in this light, he could tell that a life as a fighter had left her with a few scratches. Most had healed so well they looked like she'd had them for a lot longer than she could possibly have been a Slayer, but there were a few that seemed newer. A bitewound on her neck that was sure to leave a mark, and...
"And this one?" He ran his finger over a jagged scar on her otherwise flawless stomach.
"Oh... yeah. That one." Faith grimaced as she let him go and lay back down on her side of the bed, looking down at the scar as if she had forgotten it. "Little present from Buffy. Never healed right for some reason, guess I'm stuck with it. Been meanin' to blame the doctors for that, guess they were too busy trying to keep me from croaking to make it look good."
Robin started and looked up at her. "Buffy did that?"
"Yep. Came into my home with a big-ass knife and stuck it in my belly. My big-ass knife, come to think of it. Put me in a coma for eight months." She shrugged, trying to sound like it wasn't a big deal. "Guess I had it coming."
"Wait, let me get this straight. We're talking about Buffy Summers, right?" Robin still felt like he was playing catch-up.
"Well, yeah, how many Buffys do you know?"
Robin frowned. For all his conflicts with Buffy, he had never really doubted her intentions. "I guess I just thought the Slayer was supposed to be the good guy."
"Oh, she is. It's me who wasn't." When he still didn't seem convinced, Faith rolled her eyes. "Look, it's real simple. Buffy was right, I was wrong. Slayers stop monsters, I needed stopping, she did her job. End of story. Besides, everything healed alright. Water under the bridge. And just because you ended the longest dry spell since I hit puberty don't give you the right to..."
OK; that was it; Robin was officially creeped out. "You’re not a monster, Faith."
"Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that lately", she muttered.
"How old were you?"
"Jesus! What does that..." She got up from the bed and seemed like she was going to just leave him there, before realizing she couldn't very well go running around the crowded house buck naked. She turned back. "OK, so I was seventeen. So what? Old enough to be tried as an adult."
"So you're a kid, you're the Slayer, you've got a huge responsibility and you lose track of the mission." He shook his head. "Believe me, there are worse things that could happen."
"Lose track of...? I killed people!"
"Yeah, but you're still here. Do you know how many Slayers get a second chance?"
"Man, for a high school teacher, you sure seem to think you know a lot about Sla..." Her face fell as an idea seemed to hit her. "Oh no. No. Please don't tell me I just fucked a Watcher."
And so he told her how he had come to know about Slayers, how it had shaped his entire life, and why he was here in Sunnydale right now.
At first, she just stared at him. Then she flopped back on the bed with a hollow laugh. "Your mother? Oh yeah, that's what every girl wants to hear right afterwards. Jesus CHRIST, dude, you got issues."
"Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that lately." Robin nodded thoughtfully. "But at least they're mine. I don't know everything about you, but I do know this: if you keep thinking of yourself as just a Slayer or just a killer or Buffy's... evil twin, it's gonna eat you up inside. I think there's more to you than that. And sooner or later you're going to have to trust -"
That one struck a nerve. The laughter stopped. In one movement, Faith was up on her knees leaning over him and staring him down, making sure there wasn't any part of her he couldn't see. "You're right – you don't know shit about me, motherfucker! 'Inside'? Hey, you been in there and I don't recall any complaints. If all you wanted was another poke you shoulda just said so, I had enough of shrinks in jail."
"Faith, that's not what I..." For a second he thought he'd pushed too far; they both knew she could beat him up without even breaking a sweat, and trust – obviously not something she was used to. Two people who had had to grow up way too fast stared at each other.
Finally she looked away and got up to get the bedsheet. "Look, I'm sorry, it's just... it's late and we've got a big mission in a few hours. I just need to get some sleep." She slumped back onto the bed, pulling the cover over her and then quickly turning around again when he grabbed half of it. "And just what do you think you're doing?"
"Uh... late, big mission, sleep...?"
"Here?"
"Well... I suppose I could go downstairs and find somewhere else to crash, of course I'd probably wake up some of the girls you're supposed to lead into battle tomorrow, but..."
She sighed and seemed to gauge the size of the bed before turning her back to him again. "Fine, whatever. Just stay on your side, OK?"
"You're the boss."
It seemed there was some trouble with Buffy's mattress, though, since when he woke up a few minutes before she did, they had both drifted towards the middle and she was curled up right next to him.
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Scene 7 and 8 here.
Scene 9 here.
I love Faith. The five episodes she got on Angel are all among my favourite eps of that series, largely because of the interplay between Faith, Wes and Angel and the character development on all three of them when they get together. However, once she crossed back over to Buffy, a lot of that took a back seat. I wanted to explore what might happen behind the scenes, so this basically follows canon but hopefully with more character insight.
Also, if you want to know the background for this, in-jokes etc, here's an annotated version of the fic.
This won first place in
good__evil's december challenge 2006.Thanks to
selene2 for the lovely plaque!Pairing: Faith/Wood in one chapter, though that's not the focus of it.
Chapters: 9
Rating: PG13/R
Scenes 1-6 below.
Scene 7 and 8 here.
Scene 9 here.
ATONEMENT'S A BITCH
Scene 1 - Scene 2 - Scene 3 - Scene 4 - Scene 5 - Scene 6
2 Kool 2 B 4-Gotten
Author’s note: Missing scene from the Angel episode "Salvage". I borrowed some dialogue, written by David Fury, so credit to him along with the usual props to Joss & co.
Cold water.
Faith held her face underwater until stars began dancing in front of her eyes and then a few seconds more before pulling up, gasping for air and catching a glimpse of herself in the little mirror by the sink in her cell. She still felt the adrenaline pumping from the fight; it had been a while since she’d used her muscles for anything but working out. She had gotten into fights in her first few weeks in the slammer, and when no one managed to take her one-on-one they eventually tried twelve-on-one. She sent most of them to the infirmary and did a couple of weeks in solitary, and in the years after that everyone had stayed clear of her.
And then, out of nowhere, this. Her and Deb had never been friends – Faith didn't have any friends in here – but they'd never been enemies either. Yet Deb had attacked her in broad daylight, waving a big-ass knife and refusing to stop even when it was clear she didn't stand a chance. That wasn't the scary part, though; no, the part that had Faith panicking now was how easy it would have been – how good it would have felt – to just hit her a little bit harder. Not just knock her out, but put her down once and for all. It might have delayed her parole hearing by a couple of years... oh, there's a joke. "Sorry, instead of walking out of here when you're 70 you have to wait 'til you're 73." Not that she'd thought that through at the time; grabbing that barbell and almost smashing Deb's face flat into the ground had been instinct. Holding back at the last second had been... she wasn't sure. But was this really how far she'd come? All this time working on herself, trying to become someone better, and it just takes one little brawl with an overweight car thief to...
You're still not seeing the big picture, B. Something made us different. We're warriors. We're built to kill.
Part of her had been relieved when she was convicted of murder, not manslaughter, even if it meant an extra 10 years. "Murderer" was a good word; fair, simple, cut'n'dry. "Slayer" was a word she figured she could go a good long while without hearing again. That wasn't where all her problems had started, but it sure as shit hadn't helped any. She'd fucked up. Great. She was paying for it. Great. She'd probably die of old age before she got to see a vampire again. Great. So fucking STOP the Slayer shit already! She punched the wall hard, and it barely hurt even though the concrete gave under her fist. Yup, superpowers still there. As if last night and this afternoon hadn't proved that.
All Slayers have dreams. Usually, they're not too bad once you get used to them; memories of other Slayers, visions of impending doom, the usual crap. She didn’t know if it was some kind of weird-ass Slayer mechanism or just ordinary psychology, but here's the wicked bit: the dreams got much worse when you didn’t get to sla... kill anything. Still, most of the time they weren't any worse than any other nightmares.
Of course, some of them had been worse than others. B dying, for instance, that had been a whopper; woke her up an hour before lights-on, screaming her lungs out. She freaked out so badly that they had her seeing the prison shrink for months afterwards. Of course, she had never told him shit; what was she going to say? "See, I have this mystical psychic bond to one of the people whose lives I tried to ruin. I betrayed her, she almost killed me for it, I paid her back by stealing her body, and there was this whole... Anyway, she just killed herself, and it felt like I was ripped out of my own head. Like there were two of me and none of me at the same time. I felt her die, I felt her hit the ground, I’m feeling her rot as we speak, and everything in my head keeps screaming it's my fault somehow. So how was your day?"
Of course, Buffy had come back, and it got a bit easier. Back to the same ol' same ol' and once again she could forget about The Slayer and just be a murderer with weird dreams. Until a couple of months ago when the dreams got worse. Every night for weeks on end she had the same vision: young girls being hunted down and killed like cattle. Everything about the dreams seemed to beg for her to do something about it, and she'd woken up a couple of times wanting to yell "WRONG NUMBER!" Didn't they get that she was OUT? Couldn't whatever ran these things leave her the fuck alone? Apparently not, because last night she got the mother of all visions. It had been brief, but crystal clear: a huge cave, filled with thousands and thousands of... she guessed they were vampires, but not like any she'd seen before. Ugly fuckers. And of course, that chant that had turned up in all her dreams lately suddenly seemed to make sense.
From beneath you, it devours.
It scared the shit out of her, and she could only hope B, Angel and the others were on their toes. Whatever it was, and as bad as the dreams were, she was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with it. She wasn't a Slayer anymore, she was a murderer, and she was right where she belonged. Four walls, no one getting too close, three squares a day and everything under control. She took a deep breath, splashed some more water in her face and left her cell.
The rec area of her block was just as boring as the rest of this place. An old TV, a couple of couches and tables and a shelf with some games and shit. Games usually require at least two people, so mostly she just watched TV. A couple of girls got up and let her have a couch to herself – funny how no one ever wanted to sit close to her. There was some weird sci-fi show on: a bunch of cows being herded off a space ship, if you'd believe that, into a large green field beneath an open sky. A girl was sitting with the cows, talking to them.
"They weren't cows inside. They were waiting to be, but they forgot. Now they see sky and they remember what they are."
One of the inmates – Joanna, a lifer who had only been here six months and probably wouldn't last six more – sighed longingly, obviously relating. One of the older girls laughed at her. "You know they're being sold for slaughter, right?"
Faith ignored the resulting shouting match and tried to keep watching, only to be interrupted by a guard stepping in front of her.
"Lehane? Your lawyer's here."
She looked up at him. "My lawyer? What lawyer?"
"Gee, I don't know, girl like you gotta have a whole team of lawyers, right? Said it was urgent, so move it."
Faith followed the guard to the visiting area – she hadn't been here too often. Angel used to visit her when he had a chance, but then they'd restricted the visiting hours to daytime and he hadn't been by since. That was a year ago. She had no idea who it could be this time, but –
Oh.
Him.
She hesitated – images of blood and violence flashing before her, not visions this time but good ol' fashioned memories – before sitting down to talk to her watcher.
"They told me my lawyer was here to see me. You my lawyer now, Wes?"
"Hello, Faith. How are you?"
It was plain that Wesley didn't want to be here anymore than she wanted to face him, 'cause he sure didn't sound like his fondest wish in life was to work with her again. Not that she could blame him after what she did. And this wasn't the prissy, well-groomed Wesley she'd met in Sunnydale; this was someone who'd gone to the end of his rope and then just been too fucking mean to not keep going. She knew that look. She hoped he hadn't learned it from her.
"We need you."
Oh, please. She got it now. OK, let's go through the motions and then he can go back to Angel and say he tried, she can go back to the spacecows, and everyone's happy and out of each other's life again. "It's Armageddon again. I dig. The last thing you need's me in the mix. Besides, Angel'll come shining through in the end like he always does."
"Angel's gone, Faith. Angelus is back."
It took Wesley's words a couple of seconds to sink in. Once they did, she didn't think it through, just acted on instinct. "Step away from the glass."
As they bolted across the parking lot towards Wesley's car, she absently brushed shards of bullet-proof glass out of her hair and glanced up at the sky. And tried not to forget what she was.
Author's note: Oh, and the quote about the cows is from the Firefly episode "Safe", written by Drew Z Greenberg. If you haven't watched Firefly – get to it already.
Back up top
Miles to go
I always thought it was a pity we never got to see Willow and Faith talk out their differences and similarities on the show. So this starts out in a car between LA and Sunnydale, and also between "Orpheus" and "Dirty Girls".
After they said goodbye to Angel and the gang, Willow's smile had faded pretty much the second they stepped out of the hotel. The car was quiet as they left LA and got onto the freeway.
Faith felt weird. She'd spent a lot of time thinking of what she might say to Buffy (and never came up with anything good) but sitting here with Willow wasn't something she'd prepared for. She knew the other woman had hated her guts for years – long before Buffy had, even.
You're just a big selfish, worthless waste.
I wish those council guys would let me have an hour alone in the room with her. If I was larger and had grenades.
Well, here they were, in a tiny little room for the next two hours, and judging from what had happened in LA Willow might not have grown any larger but she did pack some serious firepower these days. So Faith figured it was probably a good idea to keep her mouth shut –Willow certainly didn't seem eager for conversation – but some things needed clearing up, and there really was no easy way to start. Oh, what the fuck. Just jump in. Like you always do.
"OK, I'm guessing it's a female someone."
"What?" Willow almost lost control of the car for a second.
"You told Fred you were seeing someone. So was I right about that last time we met?"
Willow didn't answer, just kept her eyes on the road... but she didn't deny it, either.
"Wow. Cool. And to think I was mostly just trying to be mean to... Sarah?"
"It's Tara. Drop the subject."
OK, sore spot. "So we're not gonna do the small-talk thing?"
Willow answered by not answering.
"OK, fine. I'll do the talking. What you said about needing me in Sunnydale... are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, I was in jail for three years before Wesley busted me out, and in all that time exactly one person... well, vampire visited me. Ever. I kinda got the hint."
Willow stared at her incredulously for a second. "Well, I hate to break it to ya, but..."
"Whoah, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. People want to forget about me, I totally get that. And I'm not trying to chicken out. I'm just saying I need to know if you really meant it, or if B's gonna want to slit my throat and shit down my neck the second I walk in that door. Because in that case, I'd rather save all of you the trouble and go back to my cell. The way I figure, the last thing you need right now is someone who'll just open a lot of old wounds."
Willow looked at the slayer again, and saw that she was serious. She turned her eyes back to the road. "OK, the last time I was honest with you you went psycho and pulled a knife on me, but seeing as you just saved Angel's life I guess you deserve the truth. We're up against something that makes everything we've ever fought look like a grumpy kitten, we're probably all gonna die, and we need every fighter we can get. But just so you know..." Willow took a deep breath. "The last person in Sunnydale who even liked you, Faith, turned into a snake and went kablooie four years ago. No one has forgotten what you are and no one will be turning their back on you. You won't have to worry about anyone on our side attacking you first; but there will be plenty of beasties lined up to do that. If you're up for it, that's what you can expect. If not, I'll drop you off at the prison gates right now. 'Kay?"
Faith nodded. "Fair enough." Then she pointed to the neon sign of a diner looming up ahead. "Listen, could we get something to eat first? I haven't had a bite since yesterday, I almost died twice since then and this really isn't something I want to decide on an empty stomach."
"OK, I'm used to slayer appetites, but... damn." Willow nodded at Faith's half of the table, loaded down with dozens of plates with just about everything the diner offered.
"Yeah. Thanks for paying, I'd totally forgotten about... you know... money."
Willow watched with astonishment as Faith started packing away greasy food like a sumo wrestler coming off a diet. "Jail will do that, I s'pose... I hear Stockton's supposed to be really tough. Was it really tough?" That last question sounded way too much like gee-I-really-hope-you-hated-every-second-of-it, but Faith didn't seem to notice.
"Actually, most of the time it wasn't that bad. After I showed some people that I could take care of myself and spent much of the first six months in solitary, everyone pretty much left me alone. All in all, it wasn't the worst three years of my life."
"Sounds downright cosy."
"Except... funny thing about prison, Red: everyone is innocent, no matter what you're convicted for. They got set up by the cops, it was self defense, their lawyer was incontinent..."
"I think you mean incompetent."
"Whatever. I'm just saying I've made enough excuses, you know? The last thing I need is to start telling myself I'm innocent." Faith emptied a bottle of ketchup over a huge plate of fries. "Most of the time it was just... boring. Tons of free time and nothing to do."
"Don't they have a library?" Faith shot her an amused look. "Oh. Right. Sorry."
"Also, you know, being cooped up with nothing but women becomes frustrating..."
"I could think of worse things."
Faith gasped in pretend shock as she raised her second king size Coke. "Was that a joke, Red? Did you and I just share a joke?"
Willow just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Faith ate, and the waitress topped off Willow's coffee mug.
"So are there any other changes I should know about in Sunnydale? Just so I don't give anyone any more reasons to hate me..."
Willow thought about it. God, three years... a lot of things had happened, most of which she really didn't feel like sharing with Faith. "Just... y'know, demons, government conspiracies, stuff like that..." Then she thought of something. "Joyce died about two years ago."
Faith stopped eating and stared at her. "Wha... Oh shit, I'm really..." She stopped herself as everything came flooding back again, and looked down at her food. Don't say you're sorry. You got no right. Joyce took you into her home, you almost killed her, and you'll never get a chance to make up for it. Or anything else. "Fuck it, Re- Willow, maybe this isn't such a good idea. I mean, it's not like I just spilled ketchup on B's favorite shirt or something. It's way too late, I can't... it's..."
"What?" Willow interrupted, raising her voice, then lowering it again when she saw the other guests eyeing her. "Like you lost control and let everyone down? Like you killed people, and then tried to kill the ones who wanted to help you? Like you can't expect anyone else to trust you since you don't even trust yourself, and nothing you say or do will ever change what's happened... am I in the ballpark?"
Faith looked at her, taking it in, then thoughtfully started on her third burger. "So, you too, huh? Lemme guess: none of my business?"
The redhead grimaced, but calmed down. "Not really."
"But you're going back there anyway? Try to be a good guy?" What she really wanted to know was if they had taken her back, but even if she'd thought Willow would answer she didn't think the same rules would apply to her.
"I kinda have to, y'know?" Willow was gazing out the dark window, past her own reflection. "If I don't... then nothing good I ever did matters. The darkness beat me, that's all I was good for... and I never deserved her. I couldn't live with that."
The slayer nodded. For a while, the only sound was that of Faith wolfing down a basket of blueberry muffins. "So you're saying we're all gonna die?"
"Yup, that's pretty much the plan."
"Fine. Long as I don't have to listen to Barry Manilow again, I'm in." Faith finished her milkshake, then sat back and unbuckled her belt. "Man, I'm full."
"You sure? I think they have pie..."
"Nah, I'm good."
"Well... I guess we'll see about that, huh?" Willow offered something that might have been a smile as she got out her wallet and paid the waitress. Faith made sure to walk in front of Willow as they returned to the car. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost
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Eavesdropping
"What the HELL is she doing here?" A few hours had gone by since Willow had showed up with Faith, and since then everyone had been pretty busy. When Dawn finally managed to corner Buffy and Giles in the kitchen she let them have it. "Did you forget who that is? What she did to you, and Angel, and me, and Mom, and..."
"Dawn..."
Buffy didn't have to say anymore than that; Dawn knew what that look meant. It always hurt just as bad, even though she knew her sister meant no harm. Faith didn't do anything to you. You didn’t even exist. All your memories of her are made up. Of course, that never made them seem any less real – for her or anyone else. She wondered if it was a sin to hate monks. "OK, but that doesn't change the fact that Faith is a killer. She’s betrayed everyone who ever tried to help her, she... Giles?" She looked to the older man for support, but got none.
"Dawn, Buffy's right about this." Dawn didn't miss out on the angry glare from Buffy to her former watcher - about THIS?. "People can change, Dawn. Angel did. Willow did."
"Spike did", Buffy muttered.
Giles ignored her. "If there is any chance that Faith can be rehabilitated, we owe it to her to take it."
"Yeah, ‘cause nothing says rehabilitation like breaking out of jail."
"And do you think they could have kept a Slayer in jail for three years if she wanted out?"
Dawn looked down, knowing this was another argument she was going to lose. "Fine. But I'm sleeping with Will and Kennedy tonight." She went bright red. "I-in their room, I mean. With psychoslayer in the house, it can't hurt to have a bodyguard or two."
Buffy blew a gasket. "If you think for one second that I would let her hurt you –"
"Why not? ‘Spike did!’"
Tempers flared up again and voices grew louder.
Out in the hall, Faith couldn’t help hearing every word. She’d tried to find someplace to think, but the whole house was full of teenage girls. At least back in jail she had her own cell. This place was too fucking crowded, she needed to get out of here...
She got as far as the porch and sat down, taking a deep breath of night air before lighting up a cigarette and looking out over the lawn. It was raining – just a slight drizzle, but enough so she was alone out here. This was a good spot. When was the last time she’d sat here? Right, Christmas. Four years ago. The snowstorm that came out of nowhere while she was stuck babysitting... nah, scratch that. She wasn't stuck. She had loved it. Christmas with Joyce and Dawn, eggnog, fireplace, laughter... it had just seemed right, somehow. Like something she would have liked to have. She'd tried to teach Dawn the basics of snowman construction, and then sat right here smoking while the 12-year-old who'd never even seen snow before tried to build one. Of course, the lousy California snow had been to loose for it, and it had turned into a snowball fight instead. She had felt a part of something. It had been a good feeling. And she'd fucked it up.
"So... you're Faith, huh? Heard a lot about you."
Shaken out of her memories, Faith looked up at the potential who'd come out of the house to stand next to her. Great, so much for personal space. "Seems everyone has. Can't say the same though...?"
"Rona."
Faith looked back out at the yard, taking a drag. "Think I can make a pretty good guess what you've heard."
The girl sat down next to her. "Hey, don't be so sure about that. You know, we been talking a lot about you... I mean, you can probably guess Buffy ain't the most popular person around here these days. Thinks she’s some kind of boss and we’re just supposed to follow her orders. At least you've stood up to her. She could use a reminder that she's not the only one who -"
"Stood up to...?" Faith stared at her in disbelief. "Oh man, you so don't know what you're talking about."
"No? So all the hassle about you coming back is about what?"
"I didn't 'stand up' to B. I tried to fucking kill her. Her, Xander, Willow, just about anyone inside that house who’s not lining up to wear my boots when I kick it." She shuddered as she remembered the last time she'd been here, three years earlier. "Shit... you wanna know about ‘standing up’? Dawn told me once she thought I was way cooler than Buffy, that I wasn’t always going on about rules and responsibilities, and that she’d much rather be my sister. Now she hates my guts, you know why? Because when she was 13 years old and about a foot shorter than she is now I barged through that front door, knocked her and her mother out cold, tied her up, held her hostage and told her all about how I was going to start cutting her up in front of her mother if her sister didn’t get here soon. She begged me not to and I laughed at her. You know what that's like for a kid, to have someone you look up to go out of their way to hurt you in every way they know?" Faith put out her cigarette against the porch and got up, clearly disgusted. "You think that makes me, what, Clint fuckin' Eastwood? Think again. I ain’t saying Buffy can’t be a prissy bitch sometimes, but if I see any of you start acting like me, I will put. You. Down. Got me?"
Rona nodded, taking a few too many steps back. "So why...?"
The question hung there unfinished. Why did you do it? Why are you back? Faith shrugged. She was still figuring that out herself. "Sharks gotta swim, bats gotta fly." Turning around to go back inside, she stopped cold in her tracks. The front door was open, and Dawn was standing right in it, glaring at her. She’d heard every word. Oh man.
Dawn crossed her arms and faced the Slayer, relishing the fact that she was actually the tallest of the two. They stood there for a few seconds before Faith looked down and squeezed past her inside. She made it to the foot of the stairs before Dawn spoke her name.
"Faith?"
She wanted to turn around, but couldn’t. What was she supposed to say? "Sorry"? Yeah, that always worked. Finally Dawn settled for talking to her back.
"You know, if you expect me to just forget about what you did to Buffy or Mom, that’s not gonna happen. But... what happened between you and me, I wanna forget it. All of it, good and bad. Clean slate, like we never met before."
"Look, Dawn... don't think I don't appreciate it, but I'm not sure I should-"
"I just thought that you'd have enough to feel bad about. It's not exactly my favorite memory either, and if you plan on sticking around it's not something I want to be thinking about every time I see you. If you want, we could just decide right now that it never happened."
Faith looked at her. She had grown up a lot. "You did get me pretty good with that snowball, though."
The younger girl shrugged and held her hand out. "Dawn Summers."
Faith looked at it for a few seconds before taking and shaking it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Faith."
"Yeah? I heard a lot about you..."
"Seems everyone has."
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Innocent When You Dream
Author’s note: missing scene from between "Dirty Girls" and "Empty Spaces".
It was 3 AM and Buffy couldn't sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s rest, but lately it had been even worse. Rather than spend all night tossing and turning she got up and wandered around the house, stepping carefully over the girls asleep everywhere in extra beds, sleeping bags or just blankets on the floor. Potentials, Slayers-In-Training, Perhaps-Someday-To-Be-Chosen Ones; just ordinary girls, some of them thousands of miles from home, and looking to her to teach and protect them. And many of them might... no, would die before this was over. Even if she had a plan, which she didn’t, the hardline was still this: scared teenagers on one side, near-unstoppable monsters on the other. Hopeless.
She walked past a couple of girls whose names she, for the life of her, couldn’t remember right now. Probably a good thing; the more personal it got, the harder it would be. Buffy had known since she was 15 that she would die young, and accepted risking her own life, but this was different. Sacrificing innocent girls who hadn’t signed up for this? Playing chess – or let’s face it, it would probably be more like bowling – with real people? She didn’t think she had that in her. She wasn’t that hard, that cold. Not like...
She stopped pacing as she found herself standing in front of the one girl in here whose face and name she knew every detail of.
Faith was curled up in one of the easy chairs Xander had brought over from his apartment before he... (no, don’t go there. She couldn’t think about Xander and what she had let happen to him.) The other Slayer had refused a bed – probably thinking no one would have given theirs up for her anyway – but of course ended up sleeping more comfortably than most of the girls in here. Andrew’s speech seemed to have done its job; the only free space in the entire living room was a circle of a couple of feet around Faith’s chair. Whether that was from fear, respect or both, Buffy didn’t know, but she figured it was a good idea not to crowd her counterpart – Faith had had her back tonight, and they’d gotten along reasonably well, but there was no telling how stable that truce was. How stable Faith was, for that matter. Buffy sighed. This is stupid. Maybe Dawn is right, she can't be trusted... or maybe it's just that I can't trust her? Same diff. I can't go into battle looking over my shoulder to make sure she's not getting ready to turn on me, or run away again, or... Was that why everything had gone wrong tonight? Had she been distracted because she didn't trust Faith?
Buffy wished she could talk to Giles or Willow about this, but... no. Like everything else, this would have to be her decision. Faith couldn't stay, and she had to find some way to tell her tomorrow. Maybe with a weapon nearby, just in case. But as she turned to go upstairs, she frowned and then turned back and took a closer look at the sleeping brunette. Something was different.
Buffy had seen Faith in a lot of moods over the years. Happy Faith (usually after she killed something), Sarcastic Faith (a lot of that one), Arrogant Faith (not to be trusted), even once – and this was a memory Buffy would never admit to another living soul – Horny Faith. But then there had been Cold Faith, Angry Faith, Insane Faith... and Broken Faith, Humbled Faith. But even when they'd been at their closest (and seriously, that was a one-time thing, heat of battle and stuff, and it wasn’t even much of a thing at all, really) there had been a huge part of Faith she couldn't reach, something she kept walled off. And when all that darkness and hate and self-loathing came out, it had seemed bottomless. Things must have started to go wrong for Faith long before she ever came to Sunnydale. That didn’t excuse anything she’d done, and Buffy still found it hard to feel sorry for her – but she had, sometimes, asked herself if there was something she could have done differently, if there was anything good left in Faith that she could have reached in time.
She looked at Faith again, and saw something she'd never seen before. The other Slayer was in a deep sleep, dreaming, and it seemed to be a good one – not the waking-up-sweaty kind of good, either; a hint of a childish smile on her lips, relaxed, free of worries and hurt, at complete peace. Under all those different faces, behind all those walls was something else... call her Innocent Faith. Buffy had no idea how deep down that one was or what memory she clung to, but she was still down there somewhere, strong enough to hold on. And tonight, at least for a moment, while the others slept, she'd made it up top. She wondered if –
"MOMMY!" One of the potentials cried out in her sleep, and Faith was awake and on her feet in the blink of an eye. When she realized there was no immediate danger she looked questioningly at the other Slayer, but didn't relax. Faith was herself again, tense and fidgety, ready to spring into action.
"What's up, B? We under attack?"
"No, it's nothing, I was just... I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about what's coming."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Faith grimaced as she sat back down and pulled her legs up. "From beneath you, it devours. Really gives me the creeps, you know?"
Buffy nodded. "Oh yeah. Big creep factor." But as she walked back upstairs, she wasn't so sure she meant that. And just maybe she could get a couple of hours sleep after all. Just maybe she ought to put off that talk she had planned for tomorrow.
Just maybe there was a chance that good things can devour from beneath, too.
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Windmills
Author's note: Missing scene from "Touched". Contains some dialogue written by Rebecca Rand Kirshner.
Faith slumped back onto Buffy's bed. "Huh."
In spite of everything that had happened between them, not to mention the events of the last 72 hours, Giles had felt oddly proud when Faith awkwardly asked him to help her plan tomorrow's mission. When he realized Buffy had only told her the bare necessities, their planning session had extended to a run-through of everything that had happened this year; about The First, about the Slayer line... and about the origins of the Slayer, how the shadowmen had taken a girl and infused her with the spirit of a demon. Now he looked at the shell-shocked expression on Faith's face and wondered if perhaps he should have left the last bit out. "Look, I may have put that the wrong way..."
"No, that's cool." Faith's head was spinning and she stared right through him, swallowing hard. "So I'm a demon. Shoulda known. Kinda explains a lot, you know?"
"Faith, it doesn't change who you are."
She laughed flatly. "Damn right it don't. I mean, I may not be much of a Slayer, but I've killed enough of'em to know that one thing demons don't do is change. No free will, right? They're built to kill and that's all they ever do. If demons could be rehabilitated, me and B would be... vampire therapists or something." And here she'd actually thought that maybe everyone had been wrong... even Wesley. This the part where you tell me you’ve turned a new leaf? Found God? Inner peace? We both know that isn’t true. You haven’t changed. You can’t. You’re a rabid dog who should have been put down years ago.
"And what about Angel?" Giles briefly considered the irony that he (of all people) was using Angel (of all people) as an example to help Faith (of all people), then pushed it away. "Is that all he ever did?"
"Angel has a soul-"
"So do you."
"Ya think? Gee, what gave it away? Killing people? Running away? Standing by and watching B get kicked out of her own house, and then capping it by running Spike out too? Yeah, I'm just chock full of soul."
(Finally got what you wanted, didn’t you?)
Faith sat quietly for a few seconds, wishing she could talk to Angel or even Wesley, but they weren't here. "You know something, G? The other night, after we tried to fight that priest guy and everyone got killed or hurt or..." She took a deep breath. "I slept like a baby that night. I was happy. We fucked up and I loved it. I thought I was just that glad to be fighting with you guys again, win or lose... but what if it's just the hellmouth calling me home? Everyone expects me to do Buffy's job better than her, and how the hell am I supposed to know if I'm not just leading everyone to their death? I mean, demon or not, I'm not exactly known for making the right choices..."
"Well, there’s the fact that you're trying." Giles looked at her, surprised himself at how much that meant. Somewhere at the back of his mind his Watcher training urged him to reassure her, to get his soldier ready for battle. He hoped that wasn't all he was doing. "You have changed, Faith. The Faith I knew four years ago would have been ecstatic to be rid of Buffy, and probably wouldn't have thought twice about putting others in danger. You may not want to be the one in charge, but... You could have stayed in jail, yet you chose to come to what is possibly the most dangerous place on Earth right now, and I refuse to believe that you did so because you're evil. I won’t lie to you – merely trying will probably not be enough. But it’s all any of us can do. And if I can help you in any way..."
"Woah, back it up." Faith seemed to realize something. "You tryin’ to be my Watcher again?"
The older man leaned on Buffy's dresser and cleaned his glasses. "Would that be a bad thing?"
Faith got off the bed and paced back and forth. "Look, I appreciate the thought, but... In case you forgot, my track record with Watchers ain’t exactly a hundred percent. I let Kakistos kill Miss Davies, then Miss Post tried to have me killed, and Wesley... God..."
Giles looked at her with alarm. "You don’t mean that Wesley is –"
"Oh, no, he’s alive... if you call it that. No thanks to me, though." Part of her believed that; another part, one she tried to keep quiet, disagreed. Hell, from the looks of it, you kept him alive. Taught him about pain. Made him a survivor, a monster like yourself. She slammed that door in her head – for now – and the voice shut up. "I don't suppose you could settle for just being... I dunno, a spotter or something? Just stop me if I take on too much?"
"Of course."
"I mean, I don't wanna go off fighting any... steel mills or whatever that was you said to B earlier. Sounds wicked hard."
"Windmills," the Watcher automatically corrected. Seeing the puzzled look on her face, he continued. "It's from a book, the story of Don Quijote. He was... an old man who had read too many books and thought he was a hero destined to fight monsters and save damsels in distress. At one point he attacks a windmill thinking it's a giant, and almost gets killed."
The Slayer seemed to take this in. "So the monsters weren't real?"
"Not in that story, no. It was all in his head."
"But they're real here, right?" Giles nodded. There were a few seconds of silence before Faith stretched her back and cracked her knuckles. "OK then. Let's see what we got." She walked back to the maps spread out on Buffy's dresser, looking them over intently as if she was expecting them to give some sort of answer. "Sewer tunnel on the North side is closest so guess we’ll start there."
"Sounds fine. What time shall I tell everyone?"
"How about... around seven?" She fumed at the insecurity in her own voice. Don't be afraid to lead them. "Seven sharp. So tomorrow we fight."
"Tomorrow. Goodnight, Faith." Giles offered a brief smile as he headed for the door, then turned back. "And Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"You’re doing just fine."
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Scar Tissue
Author's note: Missing scene from "Touched", right after the whole... you know... the everybody-but-Andrew-gets-laid bit.
Faith flopped back onto the pillow, panting as she came down. "Oh, damn. I needed that."
"No kidding?" Robin grinned, starting to catch his breath again. "I think I pulled something."
"Sorry, but... Three years, man. Things get built up."
"And there go my fantasies of what goes on in women's prisons", Robin sighed.
She chuckled. "Hey, I ain't knockin' it, I mean it's obviously working out for Red..." The walls weren't all that thick, and as busy as they'd been they couldn't help but notice they weren't the only ones looking for some release. "It just wasn't for me. Spent most of my time in solitary, if you know what I mean."
Robin hadn't known Faith for long, but it felt good to hear her laugh; he had a feeling she hadn't done that either in a while. The relaxed smile looked good on her – a little too good, maybe. It reminded him how young she was... well, that and the fact that she was lying naked next to him and didn't seem at all embarrassed about it; the way she talked – and the way she'd just done some things to him that definitely weren't in the beginner's manual – he had almost forgotten that he had about 10 years on her, and he didn't consider himself very old. He couldn't help wondering how she'd gotten here, what had happened to -
"See anything you like?" There was an amused tone to her voice and Robin realized his eyes had been wandering a little too obviously, but she didn't seem to mind. Then everything happened very quickly. One second she was lying next to him and he was partly covered with a sheet, the next the sheet was halfway across the room and she was straddling his legs. When he tried to move she playfully pinned him down like he didn't weigh anything. "Uh-uh-uh. Fair's fair, you got your peek, my turn." She sat back, grinning, giving him a thorough appraisal in the faint light of the lamp on the bedside table. "Not bad. You work out? That’s a nasty one you got there, though."
He followed her gaze down past his stomach, not sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, until he realized she was talking about the ugly scar across his thigh. "Yeah. A vampire almost took my leg off with a crowbar once. Not all of us have Slayer strength to fall back on."
"Oh, hey, don't forget the super healing. Without that I'd have one or five of those myself."
Of course, even in this light, he could tell that a life as a fighter had left her with a few scratches. Most had healed so well they looked like she'd had them for a lot longer than she could possibly have been a Slayer, but there were a few that seemed newer. A bitewound on her neck that was sure to leave a mark, and...
"And this one?" He ran his finger over a jagged scar on her otherwise flawless stomach.
"Oh... yeah. That one." Faith grimaced as she let him go and lay back down on her side of the bed, looking down at the scar as if she had forgotten it. "Little present from Buffy. Never healed right for some reason, guess I'm stuck with it. Been meanin' to blame the doctors for that, guess they were too busy trying to keep me from croaking to make it look good."
Robin started and looked up at her. "Buffy did that?"
"Yep. Came into my home with a big-ass knife and stuck it in my belly. My big-ass knife, come to think of it. Put me in a coma for eight months." She shrugged, trying to sound like it wasn't a big deal. "Guess I had it coming."
"Wait, let me get this straight. We're talking about Buffy Summers, right?" Robin still felt like he was playing catch-up.
"Well, yeah, how many Buffys do you know?"
Robin frowned. For all his conflicts with Buffy, he had never really doubted her intentions. "I guess I just thought the Slayer was supposed to be the good guy."
"Oh, she is. It's me who wasn't." When he still didn't seem convinced, Faith rolled her eyes. "Look, it's real simple. Buffy was right, I was wrong. Slayers stop monsters, I needed stopping, she did her job. End of story. Besides, everything healed alright. Water under the bridge. And just because you ended the longest dry spell since I hit puberty don't give you the right to..."
OK; that was it; Robin was officially creeped out. "You’re not a monster, Faith."
"Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that lately", she muttered.
"How old were you?"
"Jesus! What does that..." She got up from the bed and seemed like she was going to just leave him there, before realizing she couldn't very well go running around the crowded house buck naked. She turned back. "OK, so I was seventeen. So what? Old enough to be tried as an adult."
"So you're a kid, you're the Slayer, you've got a huge responsibility and you lose track of the mission." He shook his head. "Believe me, there are worse things that could happen."
"Lose track of...? I killed people!"
"Yeah, but you're still here. Do you know how many Slayers get a second chance?"
"Man, for a high school teacher, you sure seem to think you know a lot about Sla..." Her face fell as an idea seemed to hit her. "Oh no. No. Please don't tell me I just fucked a Watcher."
And so he told her how he had come to know about Slayers, how it had shaped his entire life, and why he was here in Sunnydale right now.
At first, she just stared at him. Then she flopped back on the bed with a hollow laugh. "Your mother? Oh yeah, that's what every girl wants to hear right afterwards. Jesus CHRIST, dude, you got issues."
"Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that lately." Robin nodded thoughtfully. "But at least they're mine. I don't know everything about you, but I do know this: if you keep thinking of yourself as just a Slayer or just a killer or Buffy's... evil twin, it's gonna eat you up inside. I think there's more to you than that. And sooner or later you're going to have to trust -"
That one struck a nerve. The laughter stopped. In one movement, Faith was up on her knees leaning over him and staring him down, making sure there wasn't any part of her he couldn't see. "You're right – you don't know shit about me, motherfucker! 'Inside'? Hey, you been in there and I don't recall any complaints. If all you wanted was another poke you shoulda just said so, I had enough of shrinks in jail."
"Faith, that's not what I..." For a second he thought he'd pushed too far; they both knew she could beat him up without even breaking a sweat, and trust – obviously not something she was used to. Two people who had had to grow up way too fast stared at each other.
Finally she looked away and got up to get the bedsheet. "Look, I'm sorry, it's just... it's late and we've got a big mission in a few hours. I just need to get some sleep." She slumped back onto the bed, pulling the cover over her and then quickly turning around again when he grabbed half of it. "And just what do you think you're doing?"
"Uh... late, big mission, sleep...?"
"Here?"
"Well... I suppose I could go downstairs and find somewhere else to crash, of course I'd probably wake up some of the girls you're supposed to lead into battle tomorrow, but..."
She sighed and seemed to gauge the size of the bed before turning her back to him again. "Fine, whatever. Just stay on your side, OK?"
"You're the boss."
It seemed there was some trouble with Buffy's mattress, though, since when he woke up a few minutes before she did, they had both drifted towards the middle and she was curled up right next to him.
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Scene 7 and 8 here.
Scene 9 here.