Riposte // Willow & Faith

She felt stupid doing this. Almost desperate. Faith wasn’t the kind of person who sought out help. She wasn’t the kind of person who sought out anything really. She just sort of went with it. In a situation like this, she figured she could just go with it too. It didn’t really matter for her with Buffy being the Slayer that everyone cared about, the one everyone listened to and idolized. Faith had always been cast out and she was used to it. It was something she’d learned to deal with a long time ago. That wasn’t why she needed to have this conversation. Faith was tired of being left in the dust and not having any clue what was happening with the Scoobies even though she really wasn’t sure if she wanted to associate with them or not. That was a constant internal battle she hadn’t won yet. No, this had to do with the fact that she was a Slayer just as much as Buffy was a Slayer and just as much as all those little used-to-be Potentials were. Since Willow did that spell channeling the scythe’s energy, Faith had felt that the scale of things was a little off. When it was just her and Buffy, things had been a lot more balanced…well, as balanced as things could be when they weren’t at each others throats.

Now that every girl who could be a Slayer actually was a Slayer, it felt like overload. Faith was getting little snapshots of their lives in her dreams and it was more than disconcerting. It was kind of awkward for one, the fact that she was seeing what these girls were doing without even knowing them. But it was also extremely worrisome because Faith knew they needed to find these girls and help them. They were out there with no direction at all, no Watcher to show them how to protect themselves from danger. Faith had been Watcherless for some time, but that was by her own accord. Her own dangerous accord. Those girls weren’t like her. At least she hoped.

Digging out her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, Faith cleared her throat as she found the contact at the bottom of her list. She knew this would come completely out of the blue, but these thoughts had been pressing at the front of her mind for way too long since they’d gotten to Italy. Well, since their last day in Sunnydale actually, but Faith was trying to forget that day. It had been stressful, upsetting, exhausting, yet also victorious once they finally reached safety and realized they had won.

I’m coming over. Sorry for the short notice.

Clicking the send button, Faith realized that since she was almost at the apartment anyway, sending the text now was practically useless. She was still trying to get used to the whole “polite” thing and matching it with the “courtesy” thing. At least she wasn’t as bad as Anya.

Faith wasn’t too sure if this was a good idea or even what she would say once she got there, but she couldn’t sit around any longer pretending to know what was up with the Slayer line and being okay with it. She just hoped Willow wouldn’t kick her out or have to call Buffy over for protection or anything. She didn’t really have much of a reason to trust her, but Faith had changed, no matter if the Scoobies couldn’t see it or not.

Arriving at the apartment, Faith stood outside for a moment, looking down at the sidewalk and pacing a few times. She wondered if Buffy would mind that she was seeing her friend about Slayer stuff without telling her. She wondered if she would get mad. But then again, when wasn’t Buffy mad at her? Lifting her fist to the door, Faith knocked a few times. “Hey, Red, open up.” And then she waited.

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Simpatico | Buffy & Faith

ladyof-buffdom:

Late. Buffy couldn’t sleep.  Dawn sure didn’t have that problem though.  Her gentle snoring could be heard even as Buffy stepped out of the apartment they shared.  And in an instant, Buffy was on the street.  She’d felt like this before.  Something inside of her jolting her from sleep, something wanton, but mysterious. Something that told her she wanted and needed something, but never told her what it was.  It left her to fend for herself.  Her footfalls were heavy, weighted by some kind of determination, though Buffy wasn’t sure why.  Her mind was clouded.  Who could she talk to? Her friends called her selfish.  They cast devious stares in her direction, shaking their head in ignorant judgment at who she was.  They didn’t understand, and they never would.  How could they, when they we’re the Chosen One? It wasn’t entirely their fault, they just couldn’t grasp the burden she was set to bear.  Buffy let it slide, distancing herself little by little, realizing that efforts to enlighten them were futile.  They were sick of her song.  And she was sick of theirs.

Strange city sounds were beginning to become more clear, and the peaceful sounds of Buffy’s neighborhood faded into the darkness.  She was crossing over into the bad part of town. The part of town where dumpsters overflowed, beggars begged, and women cried.  There was also an air of excitement, of merriment that could only be found at the bottom of a bottle of Jack D.  The kind of excitement, the kind of laughter that Buffy was completely unfamiliar with.  It wasn’t in her.  But it was in…Faith.  As Buffy snapped out of her thoughts, and absorbed her surroundings, she was immediately reminded of Faith. The Dark Slayer.  The beautifully boisterous Slayer, who knew exactly what to say to get under Buffy’s skin.  But that wasn’t all she knew.  She knew what it was like to be a Slayer, albeit a crazy one.  Buffy’s thoughts reverted back to ones of introspection.  Had her subconscious done it to her again? Had the Universe guided her to a place so specific, so packed with memories that her mind went directly to the one person it reflected?  It had been happening a lot, and she was beginning to wonder if she was using some kind of strange psychology on herself, without being acutely aware of it.  

Buffy stopped walking, and took a look around.  This was familiar.  She had been here before, in the daytime.  And then it hit her.  She was standing outside of Faith’s apartment building. Lights flickering from behind thin curtains, glass breaking from mysterious impact. Yup, this was Faith’s neighborhood. And yup, her subconscious had led her here.  But for what? Girl talk and schmoozing?  Faith was hardly the type for girl talk. But I’m not here for girl talk. A voice in her mind whispered, pushing her towards the entrance of the building, where the little call box was waiting for her reluctant beckon.  You’ve been here before with her, talking about your unique situation. She can help. She can at least distract you… Buffy didn’t know who was talking to her anymore. Her id, her ego, her superego? No, it certainly wasn’t that superego. The little hero would never advocate bonding with Faith. Id and…ego for five hundred, Alex. She taunted herself, and approached the call box.

This would be good. Faith could be fun. Faith could talk.  She wasn’t all sex and violence and rock n roll. Faith understood. In her own twisted way, Faith could understand what Buffy was going through. After all, wasn’t Faith the Slayer Pariah first? The hipster loner. The second Chosen One. Hell, the third, of this generation.  She understood what it was like to be downtrodden. She could talk. And so could Buffy. Faith might be the only one Buffy could talk to.  Raising her finger to the intercom, Buffy pressed the number labeled next to Lehane and waited for a reply. She said her greeting, made herself known, and within a minute Faith had buzzed her in. Now Buffy stood at the door of Faith’s apartment, knocking once just for good measure, then turned the knob and stepped inside. “Hey,” she said, a nervous smile spreading across her face.  

Midnight was around the time most people were in bed, holding their honeys tight and far away from the thoughts and actions that had passed when the sun was out. If they weren’t asleep or in bed, they were likely out working the club scene; partying and having a good time. Faith would have chosen that second option had the circumstances been different than they were now. Maybe if she were back in LA and were feeling restless as she did most of the time, that would be her out there jumping from club to club, finding guys to randomly hook up with and dump to the curb by the end of the night. But strangely, that wasn’t her tonight. Or last night, or the night before that. For some reason since they’d been out of Sunnydale, since the battle ended and tensions were higher than normal with the cartoon pals, Faith’s desire to party had waned quite a bit. Instead of putting on something bright, formfitting–possibly leather, and hitting up the bars, she was sitting alone in her apartment, slouched in a less than comfortable armchair with her legs folded Indian style in front of the television. It’s not like anything special was on, just some stupid sitcom about two brothers and a little kid, but with the brand new bottle of whiskey she had cradled in her lap, Faith would be good for the night. She could polish that bottle off in one sitting if she wanted to. That’s something growing up on the poor side of Southern Boston had taught her. Or she could make it last and pace herself. For some reason, the first option sounded better.

The only problem with staying up all night drinking (apart from the dull hangover headache she would sometimes get in the morning) was that it opened the door for her to think on things she most of the time would try her best to ignore. Things like the time she’d spent in prison. How fucking boring that had been. The monotonous schedule, the disgusting sort of people and not to mention the required sessions of therapy Faith had to endure twice daily, sometimes three depending on what day of the week it was. But the thing about prison was that Faith belonged there. All her life she had been running from the law, dodging authority and playing Russian Roulette with the rules. It wasn’t until the fact that she became a murder…the fact that she had killed not one, but two people in nothing less than cold blood, that convinced her over enough time of stewing in the aftermath, that she belonged behind bars. And in all honesty, prison had done her more good than anything in her life. She knew she needed to be away from good people, people she had the uncertain urge to hurt like Wesley, Angel, and of course Buffy. She needed to be with other criminals to fully understand what she had done. She needed this quiet time, this time to think. As much as it plagued her to have to consider serious stuff like murder, the emotional damage it put on herself and others, and even the idea of being alone, Faith knew that the only way she’d gotten through prison and was ready to leave when she did was because of that quiet time.

Now, as she leaned her head back against the firm cushion of the armchair and took a long, slow swig of JD, Faith’s eyes fell heavy with those penetrating thoughts. Thinking intently on prison and murder was physically and emotionally draining, but not nearly as much as thinking about the other thing that was keeping her up at midnight. And by other thing, she meant other person. And by other person she meant Buffy Summers. It seemed like not a day passed without her thinking about the other Slayer. Faith didn’t even know why these obsessive ideas had been floating through her mind ever since she’d first heard that Buffy existed in 1999. Every inch of her wanted to be like Buffy, be as loved and as strong as Buffy. Yes, they were both Slayers, born with the same burdensome duties and given the same exact abilities and powers, but both Buffy and Faith knew which one deserved it all. Buffy was stronger not only because she had never given into the power aspect of her birth rite, but because she had people who loved her and would stick by her as a support system when she needed it. That was something Faith didn’t have. She had no one, really. And the person she really wanted, the person who would understand her better than anybody, could care less about her.

Or at least that’s what she thought before the buzz from the callbox came, practically making Faith drop her bottle of whiskey on the floor and reach for her knife out of instinct. Yet when the voice on the other end came through, all she could do was pause for a moment, shocked at the timing, and finally let her in without any more hesitation. Grabbing the remote quickly and shutting off that stupid television program, Faith ran her fingers hastily through her hair and exhaled a deep, long breath before undoing the lock and opening the door to let the smaller framed Slayer through and into her embarrassingly small and cluttered apartment.

“Um…hey, B.” She tried to crack a smile similar to the one Buffy had on her face, but she was confused and also a little perturbed. “What are you doin’ here?” It was a dumb, somewhat rude way to welcome her in, but this unexpected visit had Faith terribly uncertain. So much for that idea about being lonely.