Pre-Author's Notes – This is an Alternate Universe fic. It kind of assumes that all of the storyline stuff with Spike and his past (Julia, Vicious, etc.) never happens, and never will. It's like it's frozen in time when everyone is on the ship, before Ed and Ein leave, and before Spike meets his past and destiny. P.S. I really wish I knew a better title to this.
Faye's Diary, by Phoenix Pinion
WARNING: THIS STORY MENTIONS RAPE. THOUGH IT IS NOT IN GREAT DETAIL, RAPE IS STILL A PART OF THIS FANFIC. IF THIS OFFENDS OR BOTHERS YOU, THEN BY ALL MEANS, DON'T READ!!
December 25, 2072
Hmmm. So this is a 'diary', huh? The whole idea seems odd, and frankly, pretty ludicrous to me; I mean, what's the point of writing down all of your secret hopes, dreams, wishes and desires down in a little book, and an insecure one at that? If someone got a hold of it, your life could be ruined. And what about the expectations you build up for yourself when you have one? 'I should write in that diary,' you begin to think. And then everything goes downhill.
Oh, well. I'm only writing my qualms in this book because it was a gift from someone that I hold dear to me. You guessed it – it's Spike. Today, just after I suffered through that slop that Jett fixes for lunch, Spike retreated to his room, claiming he had a 'surprise' for me. I expected it to be a sharp stick in the eye, or something like that, because I thought…notice the paste tense I use on that word…I thought that I knew him well. But when he emerged with a wrapped parcel that he gave to me, what else could I do but take it? But his explanation of his splurge of kindness made me suspicious, I must say. He claimed that, on his homeland of Mars, everyone there has a tradition. Every year on December 25 there is a holiday named 'Christmas', and all people celebrate it by giving each other prettily wrapped presents and gifts, and general joy and merriment ensues. Yuck.
Okay, I added the joy and merriment part. But that was what he seemed to imply. And he also said that, since I was born on Earth, I would recognize it too! Preposterous! I think I would be sick if I had to go through such a…happy holiday every year. And Spike, being sentimental? I don't think I could stand it. That lunkhead…I wonder what he's got up his sleeve.
-Faye Valentine
December 26, 2072It turns out that Spike gave everyone a gift. Jett received a brand new pair of garden clippers for his bonsai trees; Ed, a book called 'The Secret of Hacking – 108 Things You Need To Know' (although I'm sure she was already well-familiar with all of the 108 things, she was still delighted to have it); why, even Ein got something: a brilliant blue collar with shiny tags revealing his name. He really doesn't look like quite so much of a mutt anymore, and seems proud that he finally has identification of himself.
I have no idea why Spike actually decided to celebrate this odd holiday. He hasn't in the last year I've known him…when I asked him about it, he just shrugged and told me he happened to still own 500,000 woolongs, so he decided to just 'buy a little something' for us.
I, of course, didn't believe him at all. He was obviously trying to bribe us to do something for him. I may sound skeptical for goodwill and all of that bunk, but I've seen how rotten some men can be, so I really don't care. But when I voiced this disdain for him and his gift, he just gave that self-righteous smirk. That's the smile that can floor me in a second, because he just looks so damn hot when he does that…! I froze, and he brushed past me to leave. But as he did this, his fingers brushed against my shoulder and, for just a second, squeezed. "Merry Christmas, Faye," he whispered, leaving me pitifully weak and reeling in the hallway. If that lunkhead hasn't realized how head-over-heels for him I am, then he's dumber than I thought!
Shit. I just realized I'm doing the exact thing that I was bitching about in the last entry: writing my feelings, hopes, wishes and desires in a little book. Call me crazy, but it's kind of…relaxing.
-Fay Valentine
December 28, 2072
I still can't figure out why Spike bought me a diary. All of the other gifts I can easily understand: Jett trims his bonsai as a hobby, Ed hacks all the time for us, and Ein…is just Ein. But a diary for me? I never professed that I like to write. In fact, I hated it before I got this. But I must admit that this is a truly beautiful book: it has a hand-stitched vine of roses curling around the black cloth cover, and at the bottom two letters: "F.V." are monogrammed. He must have spent a mint on this antique, and I like the way that someone like he would go out of their way to find something so original for me. I just would have expected something more like a handgun. Oh well…I'm sure things will explain themselves in due time.
-Faye Valentine
January 2, 2073
It's hard to believe that I've been on this ship for almost two years. I'm beginning to think of everyone as a family of sorts: Jett as a father; Ed, a little sister; Spike, a brother. I'm even beginning to think of Ein as the family dog. Odd…
This New Year's Eve was just like last year's. We all got roaring drunk off of reserve wine, sang old songs we forgot we knew, and ended up passed out on and around that horribly ugly, faded yellow couch. Even Ed joined in on the festivities. Though none of us can clearly remember what happened, we do know that it's the most fun we've had in a while.
-Faye
January 13, 2073
Oh yeah!! Spike and I just hauled in a criminal for twenty million woolongs!! That's seven million each, with three million for Jett, and three million in savings! Finally, a real bounty. I can buy more cigarettes (hooray! I've been out for three days), new makeup and a new wardrobe. And we can actually buy real food…no more empty cabinets and refrigerators! I'm so excited…I can't wait to go shopping.
-Faye
January 14, 2073
Something odd has just occurred to me. That bounty head that we reeled in was an easy catch. And I'm not trying to be modest: any amateur could have easily caught him. Maybe Big Shots accidentally read the bounty wrong? I've noticed lately that they've frequently been correcting themselves. In any case, I'm not complaining over our fortune!
January 17, 2073
Bath taking is a small luxury in this day and age that is severely frowned upon. Don't ask me why; it is, and always will be, the most relaxing thing I can do. I usually read while I bathe, but now I've discovered that, if I'm careful, I can write in my diary instead (like I'm doing now). Now, I'm even more excited to snuggle in warm water than I was before. This diary is a good, good thing.
January 18, 2073
I feel kind of bad because I still haven't repaid Spike's kindness at 'Christmas' with a gift of my own. Nobody has given Spike anything, actually, even though we use our gifts from him all the time: almost every day (if I don't write in my diary, than I am reading earlier passages that I have already written) we use our gifts. I really want to buy him something, but first of all, I have no idea what he would desire. Secondly, I have a fear that, like many other things, he would just shrug it off. I still haven't told him how much I use this. I don't really want to sound 'soft', especially compared to his macho manliness.
Maybe I'll give him half of the money from the next bounty head that I pull in. That would be a neutral type gift. But I also want it to be personal. Maybe I could ask Jett about it…I'm sure he has some ideas.
January 26, 2073
Things have been pretty slow around here. The last bounty was the one for twenty-mil. Don't get me wrong, we're still living comfortably off of it, but soon we will run out of woolongs, and, therefore, we will run out of food too. I want to go for a bounty myself, but all of the criminals on Big Shots lately have only been small fries. None have been worth more than a million woolongs. I'm still not desperate enough to go after those amateurs; if I see a bounty of two mil or more, however, I'll take it.
February 8, 2073
Arg! That stupid kid! Today, Ed fed Ein the last of our food (two cracked eggs and a bell pepper). I was going to eat it…Big Shots still hasn't shown a large bounty, though I've become an avid watcher. And I don't want to back out on my promise to myself, so I won't go after any criminals yet.
Spike did something that was pretty strange today. I was watching a nature show (about some extinct animal called a 'panda'…don't ask me what that is), sitting upright on the couch, when Spike walked in – straight to the kitchen, of course. He rummaged around in there for a few minutes, then walked out empty-handed. Sometimes I think his philosophy is, "When you can't eat or train, then sleep," because he lay down on the couch to doze; the only problem was that I was in the way of his head. Instead of asking that I move, he just laid it right on top of my lap, and went straight to sleep.
Well, why in the hell would he do a thing like that?! Was it simply because he didn't have the energy to push me away, or was it something…more? I just sat there, not even paying attention to the fluffy animals on the television, frozen because I did not want him to awaken, for almost thirty minutes.
As I sat there, staring at him, I realized how handsome and graceful he was, even in sleep. And, call me crazy, but I got the urge to stroke his fuzzy green afro. I was hesitant at first, but then realized what a heavy sleeper he was. So, gently, so gently it was barely a touch, I ran my fingers through his hair. He didn't move, so I did it again. Soon I had a rhythm going through my fingers. And you want to know what? It felt so good, so right, to show my affection for him that way. This wonderful, light-headed feeling started to assail me, giving me butterflies in my stomach…
Maybe…
Maybe it's…
Love?
February 10, 2073
Two days without food…my stomach is killing me…
Spike finally took it upon himself to chase a one-million woolong bounty head. Neither Jett nor I offered to help because this man is supposedly an easy catch; even so, I could not help but feel odd as I watched his ship fly off. It was a tingling chill running up and down my spine – like cold fingers running down my back. Whenever I think of him, the feeling returns. I don't know if it's a premonition or what…but I'm scared.
February 11, 2073
Well, once again, that dumb kid is full of surprises. We found an emergency supply of woolongs in Ed's room. It's only 500,000, but it's enough to buy at least enough food to last until Spike gets back with the bounty. He should be back later today, and that gives us time to stop on Mars to buy supplies. Oh, I'm so hungry! Spike will be so surprised when he gets back.
February 14, 2073
Spike still hasn't returned. My strange little feeling has turned to outright worry and fear. As I've earlier written, it shouldn't have taken more than a day to catch that man…
What's worse, he seems to have turned his communicator off. Jett and I have tried several times to reach him, but all that we've received is static. Even Ed's hacking skills haven't told us where he is, or if he's caught that bounty head yet. All that we know is that he left for Venus. Jett and I have vowed that if he doesn't return within the next two days, we're going after him.
At least I'm not starving anymore, as we bought more food. The only bad thing about that is, now I know the tingling inside me is not for lack of food…
February 15, 2073
Oh my God…I don't know if I can even write about something as terrible, as awful as this…
This morning, Ed received an anonymous video through cyberspace. Jett and I were eating scrambled eggs for breakfast, and just as I was mentioning that I was really worried about Spike, Ed walked in.
The first thing I noticed was the big, thick tears falling down her cheeks. I was stunned, to say the least: I had never, ever seen that familiar grin off her face, for even an instant. That, right there, should have tipped me off to the seriousness of the matter. And she never said a word, just gestured to her laptop on the table in front of the couch. We followed her silent form there, my stomach twisting into panicked knots and food forgotten. We stared at the screen as her finger dragged down it.
"Ed…got mail from Venus this morning," she whispered brokenly. I could feel myself begin to tremble. What happened to him? I wondered in dread as she started the video…
It started with a seedy looking man (Spike's bounty! I thought to myself), who talked about how he had set up a hidden camera of sorts in the warehouse that he and Spike would face off in. His last words were, "…Enjoy the show."
"Not that," I whispered during the course of that awful, awful video, bursting into tears myself as Ed wailed harder, "anything but that…oh, God…"
I don't want to tell details anymore. I don't even want to think about the horrors I saw on that video. All that I will relate is that…Spike was raped. He was violently, brutally raped by that monster disguised as a man. His screams of, "No! Stop! It hurts…stop, please! No!" will forever haunt my dreams…
My stomach churned as the video finished. I cried, slamming my fist into the counter in helpless frustration, getting more and more furious as the moments wore on. I was furious at the bounty, for doing such a vile, detestable act to the man I loved. I was furious at Jett and myself for not insisting to help Spike. But I was also furious at Big Shots. Just after that horrific video finished, they came in on the living room television, claiming that they had…you guessed it, made another mistake. That perverted pig's bounty is actually fifteen million, not one million, woolongs, due to his violent sexual assaults on his victims. So, it is also their fault that Spike was…
At that moment, Jett and I unanimously decided that we were going to kill him and rescue Spike. We don't care about the odds, or the danger of blindly going to him. After all, we have a better idea of what that sick bastard can do…and we're prepared for him, unlike poor, poor Spike…
Jett and I couldn't care less about his bounty. We want him dead. Not handed to the authorities, but dead! Just thinking about that sick man, walking around free and alive after doing that to Spike, makes my blood boil. We're going to kill him, and we're going to enjoy it. I just hope Spike will be…alive…when we get there…
I'm in my Sting Ray right now. I guess I've written a lot…too much for one day…but I still have an hour until Jett – in his Hammerhead right now – and I reach Venus. I guess I should sleep until then, if I can…I'll need my strength if I want to face off against Spike's rapist.
~To Be Continued
Post-Author's Notes – Man, guys, I'm really sorry. I honestly tried to write a nice, light-hearted romance fic between Spike and Faye (as you can tell by the first half of the fic – it's definitely happier than the last half), but, as usual with my fanfics, it got very dark very quickly. I didn't want it to become like this – Spike being raped, and quite possibly dead as Faye and Jett raced to his rescue – but it just kind of happened. I really am sorry. I tried not to make it too depressing.
Oh yeah, about Faye signing her name…no, I did not get lazy, and decide not to have Faye sign her diary after every entry. I think that her deciding not to sign her name after every entry kind of signifies that she is getting more and more comfortable with writing in her diary. Sorry, just thought I should bring that up.
This fic was actually very hard to write. I figure that Faye would not use as much detail as I usually do, so I found myself deleting words often and replacing them with smaller words that seem more to fit Faye's style. It was tough, but I tried my damndest to make my style somehow fit hers.
Next update, I still plan to have Faye writing in her diary. Will Spike be alive for her to write about? And if he is, can she heal his physical and mental wounds? It is still a romance fic between them, and I am going to continue this. The next update may be in as little as a few days (which is pretty damn amazing for me, I must say). So, if you guys actually liked it, then yeah. I guess you don't have to wait too long. A side note: reviews (good or criticizing – hopefully constructively) are always accepted, so long as they aren't outright flames. I'm sorry, but I really hate flames. And if I get flames about the rape, I really won't be happy, as I clearly warned you about the subject at the beginning of the fic. Thank you. I'm done now, bye! Thanks for reading ~PP