Faith's Notebook
by P.H. Wise
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer shortfic
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Mom, how did you and dad meet?" Susan asked. She was thirteen now. Thirteen years since...
Faith shook herself out of the funk before it could grow. Still, her daughter was waiting expectantly. Better tell her something, at least. "Well, she said, "it all started at the fair a long, long time ago..."
Evening at the fair, and the air was thick with the smell of butter popcorn and cotton
candy. Faith was on the Ferris wheel with a friend, smiling cheerfully out at the world as the
ride went on, unaware of young man staring at her from the ground. At least, until he ran up to
the ride, climbed up the structure, and hopped into the seat between Faith and her friend.
Faith blinked, and both she and her friend asked simultaneously, "The fuck are you
doing?"
From below came the voice of the ride operator, bellowing, "HEY! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" But
nobody paid him any attention.
The young man held out a hand. "I'm Noah," he said.
"So what?" Faith asked, deeply unimpressed.
Noah went on, not discouraged in the least. "So it's really nice to meet you. Will you go
out with me?"
"No."
Faith's friend looked from Noah to Faith and back. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she asked.
Noah raised an eyebrow. "I'm Noah," he said. "Didn't I mention that?"
"You did, yes," Faith conceded.
Noah nodded. "Try to keep up, nameless background friend."
The friend grumbled irritatedly. That was when the ferris wheel stopped moving
altogether, with their car near the top. "HEY!" the ride operator yelled from below, "YOU CAN'T
SIT MORE THAN TWO PEOPLE IN A CHAIR, JACKASS!"
Noah looked down. "Okay, okay," he said, "I'm coming down." He stood up, grabbed onto an
overhanging bar and let his feet slip out over the empty air that lay between him and the ride's
gears. "So," he said, looking at Faith, "Will you go out with me?"
Faith gave him an incredulous look. "What? No."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "No?" he asked challengingly.
"No," Faith replied.
"Why not?" Noah asked.
"Because you threatening suicide in a desperate effort to coerce me into going on a date
with you can only be a sign of severe mental illness," Faith replied conversationally. Then, in
the exact same tone, she said, "Get away from me you fucking creep."
Noah let go with one hand. "Fine," he said, "You leave me no other choice. How about now? Will you go out with me?"
"Go ahead," Faith said. "Do it."
"I'll do it!" Noah insisted.
"I believe you," Faith replied.
Noah's whole face reddened in rage. "I'LL FUCKING DO IT!" he screamed.
"Go ahead," Faith said.
"FINE!" Noah screamed. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Then he let go, and he fell. He bounced
grotesquely off the gears of the Ferris wheel, audibly breaking bones as he went. Then he hit the
ground with a sick crunch.
Faith looked down at the Noah's broken body, thought about it, then held up a sign which
read: 7.6.
Noah let out a pained cough. It sounded wet. He struggled to breathe. "What!? That was
at least a 9!"
Faith shrugged. "You lost points for still being alive after hitting the ground."
"You bitch," Noah said, shuddered, and then died.
"Whatever," Faith said.
Her forgotten friend stared down at the ground, then at Faith. "... What."
"You're a goddamn liar," Susan said, interrupting the story. She looked very much like a younger Faith, though she had her father's eyes, narrowed now in disapproval. Something of his nose, too. Her hair was dark, like his.
"What?" Faith asked, offended. "Why d'ya say that?"
"One, because that's clearly your twisted The Notebook anti-fanfic, and two, because if Dad had died the same night you met without ever having a chance to make sure I was conceived, I wouldn't be here."
Faith grinned. "Always hated that movie."
"You going to tell me the real story now?"
"Nah," Faith said. "Real story's boring."
Susan sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to get the real story out of her mom anytime
soon. "You have to tell me eventually," she said.
Silence hung between them for a long moment, and Faith didn't break it until it had grown
awkward. "No," she said, her eyes shadowed by remembered sorrow. "I don't."
END