Chapter Seven.
The sleep that she had managed, after leaving the confines of the basement, did not leave Buffy feeling rested. If anything, she felt more exhausted; as if her mind had stayed focusing on every movement, replaying every phrase that had been thrust roughly between the two slayers. She had tried, no one could say to her that she hadn’t tried, but just as she feared it would be, it was going to take a whole lot more than trying, to get a grip on Faith.
On the problem with Faith.
Getting a grip on the problem. Wasn’t that what she was supposed to be doing now?
She knew that down below her in reception, the Scooby gang were gathering to offer up ideas on how to handle Faith. How to handle the problem. But she just couldn’t pull herself down the stairs yet, couldn’t face them with wisdom, when she was lost so much in confusion. Different sides of the same parts all arguing amongst themselves about which way to go. What the hell she was supposed to do?
The slayer residing inside had already fizzed a feeling of excitement through her veins when she thought about the possibility of a throw down. Resuming the old position and seeing who landed on top. Buffy *knew* who would land on top though. The slayer knew who would land on top. She had already beaten Faith, and the absolute truth, was that she never wanted to revisit that place again. Seeing the scar of the past had been enough to remind her how wrong it had felt to ever tarnish Faith’s flesh with caresses so brutal. She would happily go to hell herself before she ever indulged in that kind of brutality again. She wanted no part of it. She would not be taunted into it.
Which left, what..? The bars to a cage that provided a barrier as tense and taut as any of Faith’s self made defences? Just as hard to cross.
No. Keeping her in the cage was not the right way either. Maybe it was just as brutal as the first option, encasing her within the rage, trapping her beneath the stares of everyone she thought had hated her. Definitely not conducive to making a happy slayer. Not the way to construct a bridge over all of the water that flowed so troubled, definitely not the way to show her that everything had changed.
Somewhere inside, Buffy was longing for the steady guidance of Angel, for the solidarity of Giles, for anyone who could show her the way to steer the boat around all of the obstacles of destruction. Self-destruction. Faith’s destruction. No more destruction.
A long time ago, long after the first holding of hand, the first whispers of sorry, Buffy had vowed to herself, that given the chance she would do everything possible to make it different; she would not lose Faith again. And now, so much lost, so much already different, she reiterated the heartfelt vow to herself. Whether they took the easy route or the hard route, she would be there captaining the ship. Buffy would not lose Faith. Not again.
Easy comfort was found in the arms of the sofas in reception. The Scoobies lounging, indulging in the last remnants of breakfast, discussing the frivolous ideas for an easy Saturday afternoon. No apocalypse brewing, no homework to be turned in, no jobs to go to. Willow was voting for a shopping trip, noticing a definite need in everyone to gain fresh clothes - no amount of spin cycles ever enough to wash away the dust and blood of Sunnydale. She would take Dawn and Kennedy, any of the other slayers that dared to take their chances in the shopping malls of LA, and she would buy clothes for everyone. Enough clothes to function. Like, two outfits each?
She wasn’t sure of the exact logistics, she just smiled, happy in the knowledge that Giles was treating. That today offered the possibility of something so far away from all of the bad stuff. She was more than ready for the what comes next, already embracing plans of futures with the newness of her girlfriend. Places they could go to, places that she had always wanted to visit.
In her mind, she had already started preparing her conversation with Giles. Getting ready to explain the importance of tracking down all of the benefactors from her nifty little spell. Visions of crossing oceans, Kennedy by her side, uniting all of the girls that had crossed over from potential to slayer.
They were fun thoughts, good thoughts, all thoughts which drew her mind away from the messes of Sunnydale that still needed cleaning. Which drew her eyes away from staying enraptured by the screen, from the return to rage that was still screaming out its rank disdain in the cage down below them. And could she *please* just shut up already?!
Bagels did not blend well with bitterness, and bitterness was all that was being served up from below. Yesterday, watching the screen, watching Xander, Willow had felt that brief glow of hope, that brief fleeting with the feeling that Buffy was right. Things could be made different this time around. But now, hearing the barely veiled threats which echoed up the stairwell..? All that she wanted was the shopping, the new clothes, and the dreams of a future that contained none of the same old madness.
“Morning guys.”
She hid the brief flicker of guilt behind a breezy dose of perkiness, as Buffy had made her way into the space amongst them. Reaching down and snagging a pastry, flashing smiles at her sister, at Xander, finally coming to rest on Willow, prompting a reply.
“Morning Buffy.” Affixing her own brighter than sunshine smile. “How was the slaying last night?”
“Oh, ya know, dusty.” The red head making the space on the sofa for her best friend to sit, fixing her with rapt attention as she awaited more words. “So what’s up with Faith this morning?”
Okay. Not the words she wanted. “The obvious?” Eyebrows wiggling to assure of her humour filled intention.
“Has she had any breakfast?”
Was that the obvious? Did Buffy *really* think that Faith was going crazy again because they hadn’t brought her bagels?
“Uh… how about, no? She’s been acting like that all morning Buffy, even Xander isn’t brave enough to bring her food when she’s in that state.”
“*I* offered to take her food.” Dawn smiled across her words. She wasn’t scared of Faith, she had never been too terrified of Faith. “Willow said, no.”
“Willow was right. I don’t want you down there Dawn, okay?”
“Sure. Cos I can fight soldiers of The First, but I’m way too timid to deliver bagels through bars to Faith. That is so stupid, even for you.”
“Maybe, but it’s still a no.” And that was the end of that. “What about one of the slayers, are none of them up yet?”
“Giles is giving them a daylight tour of the cemeteries. They’ll be back soon.” Willow left it there. She didn’t add the words of her girlfriend, the ones that assured that Kennedy would never play the part of jailer to Faith. “Maybe she’s not even hungry, she looks too…” Casting her eyes around, catching those nimble limbs as they smashed more pointless blows against the cage. “…busy, to eat. I bet she calms down by lunchtime.”
Buffy could bet that she wouldn’t. But then Buffy already knew exactly what was up. The rage returning in absolute earnest when she had turned her back on her in the early hours of the morning. As Faith had thrown down the gauntlet, and Buffy had picked up the scythe. Walking away. Not rising to the challenge. She hadn’t realised though, that the anger would still be burning so bright in the daylight.
“She has to eat. I’ll take her something down.”
“You sure that’s a such good idea Buff? I don’t mind going, I’m a good aim, I could probably toss the bagels right through the bars.”
“No Xander, it’s okay. I should go.” Cos she really should. The captain at the helm. Picking up a couple of the pastries, retrieving another of the coffees as she made to go to the stairs. “Wish me luck?”
She had turned and said it with a smile, tried to keep the smile as she met the unsure glances of her sister and friends. God. It looked like everyone else had already lost the faith.
Neutral was tethered firmly to her face as she made her way down the stairs again. Not reacting to the rises that Faith was throwing at her feet, not even bothering to raise her eyes and meet the gaze. She knew what would be there, she knew how it went, what the hatred looked like.
“I’ve brought you some breakfast.”
Slid in softly between the cursing. Ignoring the ranted reply. Just slipping down to sitting again, making out that sharing breakfast with Faith was the most natural thing in the world. In truth it was the furthest thing from normalcy. Ever. Something that Buffy was relying upon.
Everything had changed. Everything was different.
“There’s bagels, or a donut. I was late getting up, so there’s no variety. No jelly ones left. Its the curse of sleeping in.”
Just a little flick of her eyes, a brief dance upwards, just to place a shape, to witness Faith stood there, barely touching distance away. Arms locked tight, fingers clenching around the bars.
“You do know that they’re magic?” Hoping that if Faith knew how futile it was, she would stop with the endless slamming, the endless screaming.
“The bagels or the donut?”
“The bars.”
“Figures.”
Letting her eyes rest longer this time, observing not hate, but an emptiness, a void that was just as uncomfortable to witness as the hatred had always been. A void that brought silence, no more screaming, no more slamming, no more of anything.
“I meant what I said Faith.” Trying to fill the void. “You won’t be coming out until you start calming down. I can’t risk you going all revenge girl on my friends. They’ve been through enough…”
“Save it for someone who cares, B.”
Only allowing a smile to pass her lips, no retaliating remark, no hurt to serve up with the offer of breakfast. “Sorry, I forgot, you don’t care. My bad. You want coffee?”
Watching as that void was chipped away to be replaced by confusion, an unsure step backwards, eyes which flicked to the cup, to her face, eventually down to the floor.
“It’s not Starbucks good, but it’s better than what they offer up at the hospital. That’s something I won’t miss; vending machine coffee. Do you think they have to try extra hard to make it that bad?”
Faith’s eyebrows knitting, her gaze firing up with little sparks of contempt. “I was in a coma, I wasn’t drinking the god damn coffee.”
“And is it wrong to say, lucky you? Seriously Faith, if there’s anything I’m glad to see the back of, then it’s that evil old vending machine.”
Buffy settled for straight out staring now. Fixing Faith with her eyes and vowing not to turn away. She didn’t have the first idea what she was doing, there was no one there to direct her across the choppy seas, across all of the oceans of hurt… it just, if she could just *act* normal. If she could just show Faith something, other than the thing that she was expecting. It might work? It felt worth the try. Pinning her against the bars now, with nothing but her eyes, it felt like maybe it was working. Like a connection was returning.
Not a void. Not hatred. Just confusion and…
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Ah. Concern?
“Nothing’s wrong. I didn’t sleep too well, I haven’t had a shower yet. Other than that, I’m good. Great. You?”
She took a chance and raised the bagel, crossing the distance which was barely out of reach, to bring it to definitely within reach. Keeping her hand steady, her breathing steadier. The stare still fixed, tracking Faith’s eyes as they devoured the food in midair. “Take it.”
Willing her to accept.
“I know what you’re doing B, and it ain’t gonna work.”
“What am I doing Faith?”
But there was no quick reply, just something dark creeping in to cast shadows across the already dim room, a chill settling across Buffy’s smile as that mouth finally moved on a response. “You’re fucking with me. Same as you always fuck with me.”
“No, I…”
“Bullshit. You think you can bring me coffee and that’ll what, chill me out? Stop me wanting nothing more than to break down this cage and beat you to death?”
Faith wasn’t shouting or screaming. Her words were succinct and to the point. Crafted somewhere in amongst four years of twisted nightmares, four years of unheard screams.
And how could Buffy construct a smile for that one? How could she say anything other than the truth? “You really think you could beat me to anything? Look at yourself Faith, you haven’t got the strength to beat yourself to death, let alone anyone else.”
Her hands lifting up the bagel again, her taunting words trying to push Faith into accepting.
“Fuck you.”
That again. She considered for a moment, that getting Xander to toss the bagel through the bars, was not altogether a bad idea. Buffy was semi-toying with tossing it in herself. She’d even consider awarding herself three points if she could lodge it straight in Faith’s mouth and stop the flow of the cursing.
“Your choice.” Lodging it instead in her own mouth. Reminding herself that this was a relaxing breakfast with an old friend, stopping her teeth from grinding down on the pastry, keeping the smile in place as she chewed on something which felt like sandbags between her teeth. “It’s good.”
Not an easy lie.
Her fingers wrapping around the coffee cup, blowing away the steam so she could add a little moisture to the dry bagel. Wincing at the bitterness, wishing for sugar. “You sure you don’t want any?”
Letting her eyes take the time to reflect on Faith again. Not buckling under the hatred, just trying to dig down below, to see the things that she was sure resided there. Not seeing anything other than eyes which shone back at her with something so undeniably intense, something so undeniably hungry. For bagels? For destruction?
“Do you know how much I hate you?” Still not screaming, just more of that slow steady rage, a sneer which stole away all of her beauty to leave nothing but disgust. “I so fucking hate you.”
“No.” A sad shake of head. The greatest understanding of all. “You don’t.”
“Yeah. I do.”
It was the moment that ended the easy façade that Buffy had prayed would stay in place. The pretend game where everything was just as it should be, where they traded easy banter skilfully across a peace laden breakfast table. Sighing now instead, dropping the bagel back down to the ground, freeing her mouth to speak more words which she prayed would sound like sense. “I get why you think you hate me Faith, I hate myself too for the things that I did to you… I hate the things that you did to me…”
Pinning with the gaze of green again, Faith having nowhere near the strength to defend herself against Buffy’s greatest weapon of all. The truth. No matter that she would deny it, that she would happily die in this moment denying it, the truth was as known to her now as it has always been. The truth that she hid from inside of the darkness…
“…but I don’t hate you. You don’t hate me. Bad things happened, we handled everything wrong…”
“Shut the fuck up!”
A truth that she hid from behind a mouth that could rival even her mother’s love for coarseness. “Just shut the fuck up.”
“No again. You have to hear this, you have to start hearing this. I know it’s hard… believe me Faith, I can’t even begin to imagine how screwed up this all is for you…” Her eyes digging deeper, looking, searching, her mouth not sure of the words, not knowing what she should speak, just trusting in the truth. “…and I… I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything.”
And god, she *could* see it, she swore to herself that she could see it. There, beneath that contemptuous mask which twisted and turned the features of Faith’s face, she could see the vulnerability, the need to reach out, to find dry land. “I’m sorry Faith.”
Calming the waters. Trying to banish the demons.
The demons which refused to be banished.
They were the right words that Buffy had spoken, but so much at the wrong time. Faith too tormented by a present that was wrapped firmly in her past, by truth which felt too much like deception, to ever hold up her head and ask for help. To beg for help. No. The shutters slammed down hard on any fleeting hint of vulnerability, the demons in her soul delighting at the free space they had found behind her eyes, the space to snarl and growl at Buffy. “You think that’s what this is? You think that all this is just bad things happening?” She leered across a smile again, tainting the one in front of her with so much more than a truth that could be righted by sorry. A dark desire, something which crawled across her skin and begged to be released; to take, to have, to destroy. “I fucking hate you.”
Her sprit buoyed by seeing Buffy drop her eyes, releasing her from the hold which had held her rigid with an intensity that terrified her. Delighting in the damage she could do with just the simple vocalisation of her hatred. Had it always been this easy to hurt her?
“What, you don’t like that B? Am I not falling in line and playing the game your way?” She laughed at the pain which flared across the basement, at a hint of tears she couldn’t care a fuck for. “You’re still the same. You think you can paint everything in pastels and it’ll all work out okay. Well life’s not like that Buffy. Real life isn’t like that.”
“Don’t tell me about real life.”
“Oh shit yeah, cos you’ve lived it hard, right? You make me fucking die B, you think I don’t know what this is?” She paused to give the moment longer to do harm, preparing the way for more of the real truth. Her truth. “You wanna prove how much of a better slayer you are by reforming big bad Faith? Guess what? Not gonna happen.” Her smile growing cockier, her words cruising on a roll. “You can keep me in this cage forever and your sorry wouldn’t mean shit, *you* don’t mean shit. Do you get that? Do you think you can *understand* that one?”
Oh it felt so good to find the saddle. Back on top. Loving the high life. It all felt so fucking good, so damn fucking good, everything she wanted, everything she needed. Slamming at Buffy, attacking Buffy, consuming Buffy. Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.
Her demons howling with laughter as she pulled herself up before her, that perky slant of shoulder disappearing beneath a weight that Faith hoped would drive her down into the ground. No parting shots to hide from, nothing done to return the blows. And it made her say more, made that cockiness think it had won the battle, had belittled Buffy with all the dark and menacing. “Aw, you not gonna share your bagel now, B?”
Her dimples aching with the force of the smile, preparing to strike again as Buffy had turned. Such sad eyes again. Such a hollow voice. “Starve.”
And gone.
Buffy had returned to reception to find that all of the extended family was now back in attendance, and not only that, they were all huddled, as much as possible, around the grainy screen and all that it showed them. A nasty little shock, when she realised that she had had witnesses; that what to her seemed such a private struggle, was in fact on full view to the world. It made her fragile spirit grab quick to hostility, a need to vent an anger which she had kept such a firm grip on down below.
“Everyone enjoying the show?” Words which sounded just as bitter as Faith’s, turning the heads of her friends, of her watcher. All of the new formed slayers regarding her with something like guilt. “Are we passing round popcorn?”
“Buffy, we…”
“No Wills, I’m not in the mood.” She was so far from in the mood. “You all saw what happened, maybe it can prompt an idea or two?”
Silence greeting her. And there was a surprise! Eyes all dipping down to the floor, not wanting to watch anymore now that Buffy was stood before them, now that she could meet their gazes. “Come on guys, you all saw how bad that went, surely someone’s got something?” A rasp breaking the harshness of her words, her friends daring to look up again as they noticed the desperation wrapped around all of the pain.
“Buffy..?”
Pain, because no matter how much she told herself that she could keep doing this, the thought of going down into that basement again, and soaking up all of Faith’s rage, left her feeling somewhere so close to broken. She couldn’t keep doing it.
“It’s okay.” Dragging at the drapes to cover her own fragilities, worried that she had already shown too much. “So what do we think, from now on all food is of the tossed variety?” Searching hard for the smile, for a return to normalcy.
“I did offer.”
“Yeah, I know you did Xander. I’m sorry I passed it up.”
The crowding newbies edged away from the gathering as Buffy made her way to take a seat. Perhaps sensing that this wasn’t a place they were welcome, that none of them had gained entrance to the sacred circle of Scoobies. Of friends.
“I think it might make sense Buffy, if you kept the visitation to a minimum for now.” Making her smile a real smile for the moment. Had he read her mind?
“It doesn’t seem as though you’re making much headway, and I have to worry about the toll that all of this is taking on you…” He gestured towards her stomach, towards her in general. “…need I remind you that you were close to mortally wounded just two days ago. You barely slept last night…”
“I’m fine.” Slipping back down to the pretend smile. Not feeling mortally wounded, just mortally weary. Wondering if death from exhaustion was a genuine concern. “I’m gonna go up and take a shower.”
“Ooo, are you gonna come shopping with us?”
“Shopping?”
“You remember Buffy; stores, clothes, shoes…”
“No, I need to think this through Wills, I can’t just forget that she’s down there. I need to…” What? Smash her head continually against a brick wall? “…I need to find a solution. If I could just get her to understand that four years has gone, that none of that matters anymore.”
Making Willow sigh. Making her turn her head back towards that screen. Again. Those same hunched shoulders, that same pathetic pose that just made Willow want to shake some…
Except…
“What’s she doing?”
Honestly not understanding. Not having a clue that it was even possible, the farthest thing that she would’ve ever imagined when thinking of Faith. The wonderment of her tone having everyone turning to see. Forgetting about solutions.
“Is she…”
Not having the words to bring the picture to life.
Buffy not needing the words. Not needing to reach forwards and turn the volume higher to witness the sounds that would accompany the shakes. She had been so close to giving up, so close to accepting that casting Faith overboard and away was the only option open to her. That losing Faith was the only option that remained. That hard hollow shell, that ferocious snarl, that sneering leering look which crawled and slithered across her skin. And now this.
She didn’t say words, she didn’t complete the sentence. She leant across and offered Faith some dignity. Plunging the screen into darkness, offering her heart the hope of light. Of something bright.
Not trusting her voice to speak as she turned from her friends to find the stairs upwards. No. She didn’t need to iterate what is was that Faith was doing. Her own eyes were doing the same.
Xander felt the injury to his heart as if he wore the wounds himself. Yesterday he had truly believed that somewhere, in amongst all of this madness, they could offer salvation to Faith. But now… after seeing the way that she still held so much of the bad stuff for Buffy, he just didn’t know. He had no way of knowing. He didn’t even begin to understand.
He would have to be stupid though to not make the connection, and Xander wasn’t stupid. It was there for all to see. The pain that had flickered and died as the screen had been pitched into blackness, was the same pain that sat so naked and raw in Buffy’s eyes. Trying to shield it before she had walked away, trying to swallow the tears that Xander had already taken note of.
If there was one thing he wanted more than to offer his help to Faith, then it was to offer his help to Buffy. To take some of her pain away. His mind remembering her words, the things that she had said she wanted.
‘…If I could just get her to understand that four years has gone, that none of that matters anymore.’
And how the heck could he do that? How could he make Faith understand the passing of time, the loss of her days?
He hadn’t been sat in a tree seeking enlightenment, he hadn’t been mapping circles out with his feet whilst his mind span in spirals. He *had* been zapped by an idea though, an idea which made him latch on quick to the shopping trip to the mall. Which made him grab at Andrew and enlist him for what he had called their very secret mission.
Bringing excitement to Andrew’s eyes, bringing excitement to Xander’s step. He didn’t know if it would work, he didn’t know if it would prove completely pointless. He did know though, that he was sure as hell gonna have a whole lot of fun doing it.
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