Nail polish

Faith always wore black nail polish.

Buffy always applied clear colors, maybe a blushing pink if she was in the mood.

And she always saw Faiths black and thought, it was so very faith-like.

Dripped in depression and doubts. Very much like the vampires they had once slain together.

Vampires would paint their nails black.

Black like the nights Faith tore through, ripping skies and concrete apart with dark tipped hands, and Buffy could imagine drips of poison hanging off Faith's perfect black fingernails ready to seep into cuts and lives.

It wasn't until one night at the docks, when she saw Faith sitting there legs dangling above the water, that she thought maybe she'd ask.

"What's up with the black? Leather not cutting it?"

She watched Faith rise and turn to walk away, hips swaying with an air of confidence.

Faith stopped walking away for just a second. The baritone of a ship bell, singing that it was coming home clung to the sea damp air.

"Black, has all the colors in it. Reminds me of you." Her voice was low and monotone.

And then she had disappeared behind a crate on the dock.

And then Buffy remembered, briefly, how Angel had called, saying Faith was out of jail and needed some help to get back on her feet.

And then with a little guilt she remembered how she told him flippantly that Faith should go back to Boston, wherever her home was, because she wouldn't be getting help from her.

And then she remembered how Angel said that she was all Faith had, and how ridiculously sad she had felt for a minute before she slammed the phone back down in its cradle.

The ship bell still sung, low and loud. It was coming home. The ship was coming home.

If only it could find an open port.

reviews make me smile