Chapter Thirteen: Cheese-Puffs
April 2003
The wind blows a chill right through your skin to the bones of your shivering fingers. Leaves on the trees rustle portentously all the way along the empty street. Every house but the one you’re currently sitting on is deserted, their owners having packed everything important into their cars and fled the town.
Xander and Giles are now the only two regular humans left in Sunnydale.
Stomach-churningly the fresh and clean sent of the air is offset by a musk that is decidedly her… and ‘him’- whoever he should turn out to be. And, of course, the smell of artificial cheese from the Cheetos she has her head buried in.
Although there’s a heavy blanket wrapped around your shoulders the parts of you open to the elements are beginning to turn a light blue. You had of course suggested a much cosier spot for this little rendezvous but your ever-comfortable companion had refused.
“You’re going to have to go inside eventually, Faith.”
She shakes her head slowly, watching the roof-tiles peel away under her fingertips. The poor guy who deserted this house obviously couldn’t be bothered to fix the roof first, which… makes sense. Obviously.
You’re breathing through your mouth and trying not to look at her.
“Nah, B. Too many days locked up to choose goin’ back inside. Feels like home.”
Could she not have taken a shower before she came to tap on your window?
A few hours ago you were shoved near literally out of your own house and given your marching orders from the job you’ve slaved away at for over seven years. Because of her.
“Home?”
Odd that the girl who lights up your heart when she walks in the room has now found other people she does that for. Other than Him anyway.
Those little girls love her because she’s… well, mainly because she’s not you.
“Yeah, reminds me ‘bout when I was a kid. My ma weren’t… too keen on havin’ a kid in the house. Used to run round the streets with the other kids, breaking into cars and sleepin’ in the streets.”
The little ball of twined guilt somewhere deep inside you clenches a little harder.
You put her down in front of everyone, called her a killer when she’s worked for years to turn her life around and Willow’s sins are all but forgiven. A crime of passion either way. There’s a weight in her heart that she carries around, one life’s been adding to since she was born and doubled by her own guilt.
If there was only some way to make the two of you happy, a quick fix- you’d like to believe not being called could have saved you, both literally and emotionally.
But not Faith, her calling saved her, saved her life.
And now she comes to you smelling of sex and with hair messed by the pairing of pillows and vigorous exercise.
“The Boss came to see me tonight.”
“We don’t have to-”
“Told me all I wanted in life was for you to love me.”
There’s an awkward silence that stretches on a little too long. She smirks cynically, grabbing the forgotten bag of cheese puffs from beside her and tearing into them. You try not to look at her, or at anything really.
“We’re going after the bringer’s weapons tomorrow. Got one in the basement, made him talk. I guess you and The Tooth Whitener can hang or something. Sneak back into the house if you want. Maybe grab some stuff.” She itches the bruise on her cheek as she mentions Spike though you’re surprised she can tell which is which; the Police, you, him. Everyone seems to be punching her today.
God you hope it wasn’t Xander! If he slept with your girl then the ‘Save Xander and Dawn’ plan is being changed to the ‘Chain Dawn to the Back of a Train’ plan.
“The girls all seem pretty stoked about having something to do. Should probably have more of a plan but its just a couple a bringers an’ some rusty swords. Nothing to worry about.”
Sure. Never is. Right up until that moment you’re surrounded, weaponless and bleeding profusely from a mortal wound.
“That Kennedy sure has a lip on her, the kinda girl you wanna put in her place ‘cept her place is so damn high anyway it’d just be pointless. I think Dawn’s taken a liking to her though… else she’s tryin’ ta burn Ken’s skin off with her eyes.”
Maybe she’ll end up surprising you; perhaps she’s just hiding her ideas so she can... ok, so there’s probably… something… in her mind.
“And Dude, you should try listening to Andrew for just a few hours… man that kid can talk! I’m amazed you kept him around this long. You know Vi said-”
“Faith!”
Besides, who are you to question her lack of plan when you can’t even visualise a future fight? Since the literal death of your imagination you’ve somewhat lost that skill… not that Faith needs to know, she can just go on believing you’re better for… uh, ever.
You roll your eyes at her and snatch the bag of cheese puffs away, “Jesus, did you eat Willow or something? I never knew you could… ramble… Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that!” Her eyes bug slightly as she tries not to choke on her laughter. And cheese puffs.
She has a very annoying way of pointing at the thing she finds funny when she laughs. Sort of makes you want to hit her. “Sure B, that’s exactly what happened. I ate Willow!”
A tap sounds on the window frame below you. Spike sticks his upper body out, twisting so he can see the two of you on the ledge. “Are you finished yet? You’re letting all the cold air in.”
“So sorry Mr. Summers, I’ll try and have her back in by midnight.” Faith snarks, letting her feet off the roof and to rest on Spike’s chest. He growls slightly at her and she snarls back mockingly. You grab the back of her top before she gets too into it and falls off the roof.
“We’ll be done soon.” You smile placatingly down at him (currently the sweetest and only man not on the list of possible Faith-lovers). Nodding his head he ducks back inside.
To be honest you’re not entirely sure when you’ll be done because you have no idea why you’re here. You were… marginally happy, but at peace, wrapped in Spike’s arms until a knock at the window broke your little bubble and a sweaty, ragged and grinning Faith was suddenly leaning through a window what you’re pretty darn sure you’d locked earlier. Though you’re sure no lock has ever thwarted Faith- she was, most unfortunately, still a minor when she confessed and her juvie record didn’t exactly help her case. Still, her ‘life skills’ are far more useful in the calling you share than your French will ever be. Unless you’re facing a French demon of course, then you can have the pleasure of ignoring the threats on your life because you’re confident you’ll win rather than just confused and wondering if ‘Gruthbuf’ is really that much of a threat.
Your head had spun between the two of them; him on the bed, crisp white sheets framing that ever-styled hair and chiselled face, her at the window, wind-torn leaves both behind her and sticking randomly up from parts of her hair. She’d been out of breath and slightly muddy for some unknown reason but still it was her bitten-nailed hand that you’d grabbed and his comforting one you’d let slip off you hip.
There’s no way to lie and say you’re up here because you want the excitement and adventure she offers. You want the simplicity of her happiness. When Faith smiles there is nothing else on her mind but whatever it is that’s making her happy. It makes you jealous and nervous at the same time.
She almost slips off the edge again as she puts a little too much emphasis into a stabbing enactment. This time you don’t take your hand off her back but leave it there- just in case. “…unfair, right? So I stole her lunch.”
You give her a slight sardonic smile that goes way above her head. “That when you started getting fat?” It’s so hard to resist sometimes… besides, you used to be a bitchy cheerleader to rival Cordelia at her worst. People should applaud your restraint more often.
“Plump!” As if to prove… someone’s point… she snatches the oddly industrial size packet of cheese-puffs back before you’ve had the chance to eat more than a couple. “And did you know; muscle takes six weeks to waste away and six months to gain back?” She smugly taps your nose.
You were dead for 21 weeks.
How much of her wasted away?
Ever oblivious to your thoughts she’s prattling on about STIs (again) and- Scott Hope?!
“What?! So you and Scott…?”
Faith screws up her nose, “Oh god no! I didn’t mean it like that! Besides… that kid set off my gay-dar…”
Relief spreads through you. “Good. Ok. Great.” She laughs at your still shocked expression and for a second looks like such a mature and controlled woman you can see what the little girls love about her- that she is one of them.
You are not.
You lost her, which- which is a stupid thing to say because you don’t loose people; you put them down and they walk away. But they’re still out there, still people, still whole just… not with you. Though, you didn’t put her down, you just shared. You let other people see your special toy and then they wanted to play too so they stole it. Or- or maybe she’s more like water. And they polluted her.
Perhaps when this is all over she’ll go back to being your girl.
Are you always this possessive and creepy?
“How do you put up with me?” You don’t realise you’ve spoken until she looks up from her snack with a bemused expression on her face.
She shrugs, “I love you. Not for any specific reason, I just do.” Her eyes roll as if to say ‘duh’.
“I know you love me… but is it enough?”
“Does it have to be enough?” A frown mars her pretty face, “I’m not here to fill a hole inside you, I love you but a person will never be enough.”
“So what’s the point?”
As if anyone knows the point of love.
When you look at her again it’s as if your roles have changed and she’s the one in control. The know-it-all.
“We help each other.” She smiles, “You make me feel… better. Like I’m a better person and ‘better’ in a… I don’t feel so alone when you’re here, I don’t just think about myself and what I need. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”
“That’s beautiful.” You breathe out.
The moment is perfect; moonlight shining above you, wind calmed down, every unspoken word between you suddenly tangible enough to taste on the air. You lip-read her quiet ‘thank you’ because by that time it’s too hard to take your eyes off of her mouth. The gap between you gets ever smaller.
Her lips taste of artificial cheese but then yours do too so it’s all right. When her mouth opens it floods warm air back into your cold body and you feel it rush all the way down to your curling toes.
Surprisingly her flesh is chilled- you hadn’t noticed it under your hands as they were so cold themselves but as the flesh of your inner-arm brushes against her skin you shiver. And not just from the butterflies. Unlike a corpse she’s under room temperature and you almost find yourself looking forward to Spike’s warm embrace.
She can’t be comfortable at this temperature but when you pull away from the kiss to ask about it she just looks confused.
“I’m fine,” she rolls her eyes, “I wanted to see you. Didn’t bother stopping to get a jacket.”
“Obviously.”
You wouldn’t be too amazed if she suddenly started breathing icicles at this point but maybe she’s right and she’s fine. She obviously knows her own body better than you do. Come to think of it… there are a lot of things about her you don’t know.
“Do you have a surname, Faith?”
She smirks at you, “No. I’m like Jesus.” The bag is passed back to you with a single, solitary Cheese-Puff in the bottom. “What? I didn’t finish it!”
You roll your eyes, how can one person eat so much? “Sure. Anyway, Jesus does have a surname.” Though what that is you’re not so sure…
“Did you go to Catholic school?” She challenges.
“No.”
“Did you have to listen to nuns going on every day?”
“Well… no.”
“Then who here knows more about Jesus?”
You’re tempted to add ‘well who here died?’ but that seems unnecessarily harsh so you let her have this one and eat the last cheese-puff instead.
