Summary: Faith deals
Spoilers: Bad Girls and Consequences.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, no matter how much I wish they
were. < sigh > They belong to Joss Whedon and the WB I have to
live with borrowing them for my stories.
Rating: You watch the show, this is fine.
Authors note: Okay, I'm one of those mean people who can barely stand
Faith, and though these episodes left me hating her more than ever, everyone
could tell that she was feeling more than she told everyone. That's where
this fic comes from.
Melissa, don't kill me. :)
by: Amy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"In the absence of denial lay the seeds of truth."
We *are* built to kill. I told her we were, and I knew it and I meant it... And it still didn't matter. She was right. We were meant to kill the bad, make the world safe. We're not supposed to be the bad that we fight.
He had come out of nowhere. He had jumped at Buffy. It's just not smart to jump out at two Slayers in the dark. He should have known. ...He probably *did* know. He probably wanted to talk, needed some help. Her help. My help. There are a lot of probably's now. And I'll never know the truth.
When I went back to him, everything seemed to pass very slowly and quietly. I put my hand to the gaping, bloody hole in his chest. When I usually do that, something screams and turns into dust. As soon as my palm touched a very real, still warm body, though, I yanked it away like it was burned. But his blood was already cooling down.
Taking his body and dumping it over the bridge didn't seem real, either. None of it did. Like they weren't my hands, though I could feel them. Like they weren't my tears. That part is easy to believe. I never cry. I haven't since... I'm not sure if I ever have.
And then to tell Buffy that I didn't care. How could I have said that? My whole being is *meant* to care. I have it in me to love and treasure human life. And I took one. Without thinking, without wanting to think. I got so used to acting first and not thinking later. But the thoughts won't leave me alone.
What I used to look forward to more than anything other than slaying-- Sleeping-- has started to become something full of nightmares and screams and blood. But I can't escape sleep. It's the one thing I'll actually admit to needing, it makes me stronger.
Even though I haven't been getting much of it.
I don't want to need help. I get so angry when someone starts to pity me. And I don't want to care, about anyone. The last time I did that, my Watcher died. Sometimes I see a look that Buffy and Giles share, and I feel the pain of her death all over again. I try not to be around them too much. But they're pretty unavoidable.
The vampire was right. I heard him talking to Buffy when I was chained up in the mansion, telling her that I had a taste for killing. I hate thinking it, but I *did* like the power I felt when Xander was squirming underneath me, turning me on, not sure if he would die or get laid. In those moments with my hands around his throat, I felt like I was blind. Lust and death blurred together. They always blur together with me. That was another thing that Angel was right about that I hate. We are just the same. It's sick to think, but it's true.
I couldn't seem to control my words with Buffy at the docks. I wanted to hurt her, and I wanted at the same time for her to be grateful to me for helping her. Even though what I said was harsh, it was a truth *she* didn't want to handle. We *are* the law. But she's right in saying that that doesn't give us the right to do whatever we wanted. When I talked to her about Angel, her face looked like I had slapped her. I could hear myself screaming inside my head for her to not listen to me, for her to forgive anything I might say when I'm angry, but I didn't listen to myself. I just kept going.
And then she saved my life.
I can't get over that. There I was, mocking everything she prided herself on being, mocking things that I *wanted* to be eventually, and she overlooked it to save me. Because that's what we're supposed to do, save human life. It's less than I would have done. I would have let the crates fall on her and she knows it. Death is like sex in that it's a hot release from whatever you're hiding from. I hide from everything. I wonder how many lives I changed when I took Xander to bed with me.
So now, as I talk to the Mayor of Sunnydale who is turning out to be fruitier than a gift basket, I try to make things up to them all in my mind. Once I learn what to do with him, what the key elements are in his game, I'll stop him, and I'll have earned their forgiveness. Buffy will forgive me. For once I'll think before doing anything, I'll carefully plan it out before taking any action. Like my Watcher would have done. And I'm sure things'll turn out okay.
Because once the good guy starts fighting *for* the good guys, aren't they supposed to?
The End
Feedback is what we live on...send Amy some.