Fanfiction: One More Sad Song
The next morning was, true to the town name, irritatingly sunny and warm, as winter slowly dissipated into a typically pleasant southern California spring. The heat streamed down from the sky, rebounding off the black streets and ushering in a new day, a day that was to be one of the most important in Faith’s young life.
Already awake, unable to get more than a few hours of sleep during the temperamental night, she sat on the edge of her bed, allowing herself a little while to simply contemplate the upcoming hours. Unable to stand the darkness of her room, she’d opened the window and the dusty shades, permitting the light and the slow breeze to wash over her. Absently trailing her fingers over her sweatpants as she considered what the day would hold for her, her eyes gazed longingly outside at the sunny street. Smiling people, happy with their busy lives, went about their business, waving and talking to each other. Even on this side of town, the sun held sway over its tiny human subjects, somehow forcing them outside to enjoy themselves.
The sun brought only melancholy to Faith’s world.
The daytime held no promise of fun or enjoyment for her. The purpose of a Slayer was to prowl the alleys and graveyards at night, slipping through the mist and tombstones, wandering alone through the danger and violence of a grotesque dream. Faith had never belonged to the day. As she sat, feeling the warm breeze run along her bare skin, she knew that her place and purpose in life was to be a nighttime killer, not to have fun, not to have friends, not to have anything that Buffy seemed lucky enough to have. Faith patrolled alone; Buffy patrolled with her friends or Angel. Faith had no family; Buffy had a loving mother. Faith lived in a tired motel room; Buffy had a wonderful house.
What Buffy had, Faith had never known. She’d never known her father, and her mother had died a long time ago. Her Watcher, the closest thing to a friend and mentor that she had ever known, was viciously murdered as Faith watched helplessly. In coming to Sunnydale, Faith had not expected her life to be perfect, but she had at least expected it to be better. Though there was more for her to do now that she lived on a Hellmouth, the most painful parts of life were constantly being paraded before her jaded eyes. No matter how many demons she killed, no matter how many vampires she staked, no matter how hard and long she trained to be a good Slayer, she could never have the things that she most desired: acceptance and love.
A hard façade helped to protect a shattered girl, one who had had to work for even the most pitiful aspects of her life. She had been handed nothing, and Buffy had been given everything by comparison. Faith saw a meager effort on Buffy’s part to share the things that she had been lucky enough to acquire, but behind the social mask, Faith knew that she was neither liked nor appreciated by Buffy or any of her friends. In her life, she had learned that deceit and hurtful looks were worse than any physical punishment, and though she had done her best to fit in with Buffy’s crowd by changing herself, she was still unaccepted, the perpetual outsider that was always looking in on what she was not able to capture.
The sun shined down on Buffy’s domain, but the night was Faith’s.
And so she waited quietly on her bed, thinking thoughts too large for her already crowded head. She couldn’t live with this social dance forever; she needed action, a way to escape from the world that she had come to despise. Enter Spike, vampire with a grudge. Could it possibly work? A liaison between a Slayer and her sworn enemy? Maybe. And if not, then Faith would have no problem killing Spike, just as she had killed so many of his kind before.
So deeply locked within her thoughts, Faith almost didn’t hear the insistent knocking on her door. Glancing around for some kind of weapon, settling on the stake she had patrolled with last night, she tucked it away into the back of her sweatpants and moved towards the door. She didn’t know who would bother to see her so early in the morning, but it probably meant bad news in one form or another. Unlocking the door, she flung it open, ready to leap into defense or offense depending on the situation.
Instead, she was pushed aside as a smoking figure covered in a blanket rushed into the room.
“About bloody time!” Spike chastised from beneath his blanket. “Close the shades!”
Unable to keep herself from showing a genuine smile at Spike’s distress, Faith closed the door and obligingly shut the shades, forcing the sunshine back outside where it belonged. Spike dropped the blanket with a loud sigh, kicking it against a wall. He also took off his black leather coat, throwing it in the corner where the blanket had come to rest. Faith admired the clothing that remained: a faded black t-shirt tucked into similarly faded black jeans. His bleached blonde hair stood in contrast with the overall gloomy image he presented.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” he asked, sounding more curious than mad.
“Your wicked strange clothes,” Faith said, pointing with her right hand and giving Spike a beautifully innocent smile.
Spike’s head dropped as he regarded himself. “What’s strange, Slayer?”
Faith couldn’t stop smiling no matter how hard she tried to exert her willpower.
“Nothing, nothing. I like them, don’t worry about it.”
“Look who’s talkin’, anyhow,” Spike replied, pointing as Faith had. He laughed a little at her disheveled appearance, so unlike the carefully coordinated outfit that she had been showing off last night. “Sweatpants and a t-shirt, huh?”
Suddenly self-conscious, her old insecurities returning, Faith stopped smiling and blushed instead, somewhat embarrassed to be caught in clothing that didn’t reinforce the hard image she had built for herself. She quickly thought of a comeback.
“Hey, at least my t-shirt isn’t tucked into my sweatpants,” she sarcastically said.
Spike’s confident smile immediately disappeared. He raised his hands.
“All right, all right. Truce?”
Faith considered adding another comment just for the sake of annoying her new friend, but she decided not to press her luck. “Truce it is. So, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
“Uh, the plan?” Spike said, his eyes widening. “We need a bloody strategy, remember?”
“Yeah, okay,” Faith returned. “I tell you what: the ‘bloody strategy’ can come after I take a shower. Just sit on the bed or on the floor or something until I’m done.”
As Faith went to her small dresser and began rummaging for clothes, she removed the stake from her sweatpants and placed it on top of the dresser. Finding some suitable black pants and a tight, red, short-sleeved shirt perfect for a hot day, she shut the drawer she’d been looking through and started walking into the bathroom.
“Sure you don’t need some help in there?” Spike asked just before she shut the door, a mischievous grin on his face.
Faith poked her head through the opening, pretending to seriously consider the request. “Maybe later, Spike.” She smiled again and closed the door. A few seconds later, Spike heard the shower come on.
He spent the next minutes considering Faith and his plans for Buffy and Angel. Despite his best efforts, he had had trouble coming up with a suitable means of attack that didn’t involve a frontal assault, the style he would generally use if not going up against this particular duo. Already semi-protective of Faith, even though he had known her less that a full day, he was not about to put her in any unnecessary danger. She did agree to help him, after all, and Spike couldn’t just use her and then throw her away after she’d served her purpose. No, she had to make it out of the conflict alive.
Buffy and Angel, on the other hand, were another matter.
As Faith continued to wash off in the shower, Spike finally began to have the inklings of a new plan, one that would isolate Angel and Buffy from their friends, while at the same time, luring them right into the trap. Brow wrinkled in concentration, he analyzed the plan from all possible angles, searching for flaws or specific dangers. After a full quarter of an hour, he decided that it was probably the safest way to get his revenge, with the least danger to himself or Faith. When she emerged, he would run the plan past her for approval, just to make sure that she was still willing to go along with it. Satisfied with himself, Spike laid down on the bed, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling, his thoughts of revenge mixed with his new and somewhat confusing thoughts for the young, brown-haired Slayer.
Faith, for her part, had had enough thinking for the morning and was devoting her full attention to washing her hair. A few minutes of shampooing, and she felt sure that she was clean enough for one of her favorite activities: a violent confrontation. Turning off the steaming water, she carefully stepped out of the shower and dried off. She hurried through the rest of her morning routine, quickly dressing, drying her hair, and putting on some dark makeup that offset her pretty, pale face. Deciding to leave her sleeping clothes where they were, Faith opened the bathroom door and flicked off the light, startling Spike from what looked like a daydream.
“Having fun?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and stretching her arms, gladdened by the soothing nature of the shower’s hot water. “I hope you weren’t thinking of me all naked…and soapy…and hot…were you?”
Spike tried to put on his best innocent face, failed miserably, and settled for an unconvincing denial. “Not bloody likely, Slayer.”
“Uh-huh,” Faith said, accusing Spike with her eyes.
“Okay, fine. A little, maybe. But not much!”
Rolling her eyes, Faith stuck out her tongue, teasing her accomplice. “Watch what you wish for, Spike. You just might get it.”
“Yeah? Really?” He sat up straighter, suddenly interested in the direction the conversation was heading.
“Who knows? I’ve never done a vamp before.” She laughed at her own admission. “Buffy gets to have all the fun with Angel. Maybe I should give it a try.”
“You wouldn’t be disappointed,” Spike replied, still sitting on the bed and looking up at Faith.
“Is that so? Well, first things first. Tell me about this wonderful ‘bloody strategy’ that you claim to have.” Faith came and sat down next to Spike. It was so strange to just sit and talk with a vampire; she’d never been within five feet of one without trying to kill it. But Spike was different somehow, as if he knew how people worked. He seemed to feel things that normal vampires didn’t, and Faith liked this quality. His perceptiveness about certain issues had already manifested itself, and it was attractive. “Go on, tell me. I’m waiting to be impressed,” she said with a smile.
After Spike had outlined the plan, Faith thought it over for only a few, scant seconds before nodding her approval.
“Good, then?” Spike asked, inching imperceptibly closer.
Faith turned to glance at him. “Sounds fine to me. It’s just the type of thing that Buffy and Angel will fall into, trusting as they are. What are we supposed to do until then, though? Sunset isn’t going to be for at least eight hours.”
“I have some ideas,” Spike said, grinning.
“I have a better idea,” Faith immediately returned. “How about you take me to breakfast? You have a car, right?”
“You want me to run all the way back to the sodding factory under that damn blanket?”
“If you want a chance at getting a piece of this,” she said, pointing to herself, “then you’ll take me to breakfast.”
Spike stood up. “Fine. Blanket, here I come.” With that, he grabbed the blanket and his jacket from the floor, put the former over his head after pulling on the latter, and strode for the door. “Be back soon.”
“See ya,” Faith said as the door closed. She was overjoyed. Breakfast! Money was always scarce for her, having rent to pay and all, and no real job, so food was a luxury that she couldn’t often afford. But breakfast! Being friends with Spike was already turning out well.
A short time later, after Spike had nearly crashed his car through Faith’s door—to which he gave an innocent look, as if he had no idea that driving fifty miles in a parking lot was a bad idea—the two were seated across from each other at one of Sunnydale’s many small diners. Spike had received much unwanted attention when he stumbled through the entrance nearly on fire and demanded a table “away from the bloody sunshine”, but the other patrons soon went back to their own business, leaving Faith and Spike to theirs. Faith was completely unconcerned about Buffy or any other Scoobies seeing her with Spike; it was a school day, after all, and they were probably all dutifully sitting in class and taking notes. Or sleeping, perhaps, which had been Faith’s favorite activity in high school before she dropped out.
“So what’s your story, then?” Spike asked Faith as the waitress placed a Bloody Mary in front of him. Always on the search for booze, he’d been overjoyed at the prospect of drinking so early in the morning. He took a sip of his drink.
“Well?”
“What do you mean ‘what’s your story’? You wanna hear Little Red Riding Hood?” Faith retorted, busy with her orange juice and a veritable mountain of pancakes. She wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to eat real food for free. Well, it wasn’t free for Spike, but what did he care? He was immortal; he could rob a liquor store later if he wanted. “I also enjoy The Three Little Pigs, that’s a good one.”
“C’mon…every Slayer has some strange history that made her who she is,” Spike said, not taking his eyes from Faith. “And you’re not what I’d call the typical Slayer, so your story must be bloody fantastic.”
Faith put down her fork. “Let’s get one thing straight, Spike: my life hasn’t been ‘fantastic’. I got to where I am today because things were fucked up beyond my control, not because I chose to be this way. All right?”
“Was just a question.”
“Well hey, if being beaten as a child is fantastic, then more power to you. It wasn’t so great from my point of view, so just lay off.”
Sensing that he’d pushed Faith into a realm of memories that she didn’t want to ponder, he immediately switched the topic to something that she obviously enjoyed.
“Good pancakes?” he asked, taking another drink of his Bloody Mary. He could get used to this early morning alcoholism.
As if remembering that the pancakes still existed, Faith picked up her fork and began eating almost before the word “pancake” had left Spike’s mouth. “The best,” she mumbled, trying to eat the pancakes and drink her orange juice at the same time. “Thanks for this. It means a lot.”
“Bollocks, it’s nothin’,” Spike replied, glad the Slayer had returned to her previous mood. He figured that whatever had happened to her in the past—and from her short description, it didn’t sound positive—had left her with scars that would probably never heal. Having the same scars, Spike respected the willpower that Faith must possess, the drive to keep going even though her life had been, and still was, extremely hard. He returned back to his previous thought. “What’s money to a vamp, anyhow?”
Faith shrugged and continued eating as if she’d been starved for the past month. Eventually, she finished everything that had been placed in front of her. Spike was amazed; the sheer amount of food she’d consumed would probably have been enough for two or three people, but she obviously wasn’t feeling sick at all, sitting there contentedly with a big smile on her face. How so much food could fit into such a small girl was completely beyond his comprehension.
Standing up, they walked to the register, where Spike paid for the meal that Faith had demolished. Then, hoisting his trusty blanket over his head, he and Faith walked out to the car. Spike was irritated with the high temperatures of Sunnydale; his fashion sense, which was more suited to the foggy banks of England, didn’t go over too well in southern California. Faith, on the other hand, seemed quite content to run around with her little red shirt.
Once inside the car, Spike waited before turning on the engine, seemingly implying that he was open to suggestions for the destination. Faith shrugged.
“It’s your car,” she said, unconcerned as to where Spike took her. It was a car, after all, a luxury not to be taken lightly. “You decide.”
“I’d love to go back to your place,” Spike hinted, “but you’ll need to see the factory and all. Gotta know your surroundings before you get into a scrap with Buffy. Preparation, you know.”
“Fine with me.” Faith thought about putting on her seatbelt, decided she didn’t care, and sat patiently instead, waiting for the ride. “I’ve never been to the factory…it’s wicked ugly, isn’t it?”
Spike started the car, which came to life with a roar. “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Not bad by vamp standards, anyways, and better than some of the shite I’ve had to live in.”
As the hours passed slowly by in Sunnydale, Spike gave Faith a tour of the factory, where their plan was going to come to fruition later that night. Always interested in gaining the upper hand in a fight, Faith paid careful attention to the way the floor plan was laid out, as well as how the catwalks up above were arranged. She learned how to move quickly through the abundance of metal obstacles, using her preternatural strength and agility to perform maneuvers that no regular human or vampire could hope to match. Her mind had been honed to think in terms of a fight; she didn’t see things as they were, but instead how they could be used as weapons or shields against attacks.
It was late afternoon by the time that she had finished going over every inch of the place. Spike, already accustomed to the layout, spent most of his time watching Faith move around, leaping onto catwalks and spring-boarding off of the walls, acclimating her senses to the new surroundings. The other portion of his time was spent blissfully considering the fact that his revenge was finally at hand. Angel would pay for bringing Spike so much pain throughout the years, and in the slowest and most violent way possible.
“I’m hungry,” Faith said from her perch up on a catwalk. “Take me to lunch.”
“Oh, for the love of fuck’s sake.” Spike directed his gaze upward. “Didn’t you just eat?”
“Hours ago. I’m hungry again.”
“Apparently so.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll take you to lunch. But after that, we start the bloody plan. No more food.”
Faith leaped fifteen feet straight down the ground, landing perfectly and with no noticeable discomfort. “Not until dinner, anyway.” She winked and ran up the stairs and out the door, forcing Spike to trudge behind, rooting through his coat pockets for the car keys.
“It’s like we’re bloody married,” he said, walking outside into the shade that the building was casting along the ground.