Title: The True History of Buffy and Faith
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: So not mine. Only borrowing, I swear.
Notes: I keep having Buffy characters sit in my head and tell me their opinions of other characters. Another thing: I've never actually seen any of Faith's episodes on Angel. This is based mostly on what I think Season 3's Faith would have thought of Angel. Thanks to my Sara for looking this over for me.
The true history of Buffy and Faith goes something like this: I love her.
Or I thought I did. Or maybe I still do, but anyways, there it is.
I loved her, or thought I did, and she keeps choosing him, over me.
I don't like Angel. I really don't like Angel. In fact, you could say that I hated him with every fiber of my being, and not be overstating things at all. But that's not really the point.
The point is, even after all the fighting, and her attempt to kill me, and the coma, and the bodytheft thing, I love her. Or did, and still do, but am attempting to deny the hell out of it.
She's just... she's, like, perfect. Blonde and faithful and strong and everything, and I love her. Did. Do. Whatever. But for a tiny, tiny moment, I thought she loved me too.
I was wrong, of course. Like there was really any chance of Buffy, perfect, golden girl Buffy being able to admit to being in love with another girl. With me. Just would never, ever happen. But that's ok, I understand that.
Even if I hate it.
The truth is, sometimes I hated Buffy, almost as much as I loved her. I wanted to shove her up against a wall and drive a knife into her heart as I kissed her.
Hey, I never said I wasn't screwed up. Like there was any other option, with Buffy being the perfect Chosen One already. I'm screwed up, and she's not, not really.
I'm so jealous of that.
I don't really want to hurt her, not anymore. Most of the time, anyways. There are moments, of course, but they pass. They always pass. We can talk together now and I don't imagine what her blood would look like on my hands. I'm letting go of the anger and such and becoming stable and all that. It feels kind of nice. Not as nice as her skin would feel against mine, but that's just an impossible dream.
We're free now, anyways. Free from the burdens of being the Chosen Two. Free to do whatever, thanks to Willow.
I think I'll stick around. The true history of Buffy and Faith isn't over yet, and I'm not about to walk away when it could get good.
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: So not mine. Only borrowing, I swear.
Notes: I keep having Buffy characters sit in my head and tell me their opinions of other characters. Another thing: I've never actually seen any of Faith's episodes on Angel. This is based mostly on what I think Season 3's Faith would have thought of Angel. Thanks to my Sara for looking this over for me.
The true history of Buffy and Faith goes something like this: I love her.
Or I thought I did. Or maybe I still do, but anyways, there it is.
I loved her, or thought I did, and she keeps choosing him, over me.
I don't like Angel. I really don't like Angel. In fact, you could say that I hated him with every fiber of my being, and not be overstating things at all. But that's not really the point.
The point is, even after all the fighting, and her attempt to kill me, and the coma, and the bodytheft thing, I love her. Or did, and still do, but am attempting to deny the hell out of it.
She's just... she's, like, perfect. Blonde and faithful and strong and everything, and I love her. Did. Do. Whatever. But for a tiny, tiny moment, I thought she loved me too.
I was wrong, of course. Like there was really any chance of Buffy, perfect, golden girl Buffy being able to admit to being in love with another girl. With me. Just would never, ever happen. But that's ok, I understand that.
Even if I hate it.
The truth is, sometimes I hated Buffy, almost as much as I loved her. I wanted to shove her up against a wall and drive a knife into her heart as I kissed her.
Hey, I never said I wasn't screwed up. Like there was any other option, with Buffy being the perfect Chosen One already. I'm screwed up, and she's not, not really.
I'm so jealous of that.
I don't really want to hurt her, not anymore. Most of the time, anyways. There are moments, of course, but they pass. They always pass. We can talk together now and I don't imagine what her blood would look like on my hands. I'm letting go of the anger and such and becoming stable and all that. It feels kind of nice. Not as nice as her skin would feel against mine, but that's just an impossible dream.
We're free now, anyways. Free from the burdens of being the Chosen Two. Free to do whatever, thanks to Willow.
I think I'll stick around. The true history of Buffy and Faith isn't over yet, and I'm not about to walk away when it could get good.