The town was called Brooksville.
It could have been called Podunk for all Faith cared because it amounted to about the same. With a population of less than a thousand people, sitting on the coast of Penobscot Bay, Faith found it laughable a town this small could be divided into different villages, north, south, and west and harbour side. Still, it was as pretty as a postcard with most of the buildings on Main Street displaying Cape Cod architecture, painted in whites and blues, like a Norman Rockwell painting.
She'd been on her way back from Portland after finishing off a nest of vampires when she decided the sleepy town was the perfect place to hideout during the holidays. While Buffy's offer to spend Thanksgiving with her and the rest of the Scoobies was nice, Faith couldn't bring herself to join them. It wasn't that she didn't want to catch up with Willow and Xander, she did. Not to mention the fact it was a chance to catch up with Sam Winchester but the truth of it was Faith didn't do Thanksgiving.
Growing as she had in Boston, Faith's memories of the holidays were like the rest of her childhood, unpleasant. While other families celebrated Thanksgiving by spending it together, eating turkey dinners, playing football or watching the parades on television, Faith would be hiding out under her bed while Mr and Mrs Leanne, both drunk as skunks, hurled abuse at each other until someone called the cops. This was usually followed by a week in foster care before she was released into the same toxic environment.
Yeah, she hadn't much to be thankful for back then.
Perched on top of a barstool while leaning across the counter, with at least four empty shot glasses in front of her, Faith was working herself up into a nice bit of drunk. The bar was cosy, well lit where it needed to be, dim beneath the booths in the corner where it wasn't. A jukebox and pinball machine sat against the wall, lifelong companions by the age of the songs and theme of the game being Rocky III. The rest of the decor was straight out of a fish boat motif, nets, harpoons and mounted fish.
It was 9.00 pm on Thanksgiving night with only a handful of patrons were on the premises. An old man epitomising the word 'sea dog' sat at the edge of the bar, working his way through a tall bottle of bourbon. A man and woman occupied a booth, whispering and canoodling it seemed. Husbands, who obviously escaped the house so they could watch the game, were congregated around the rabbit-eared cathode ray TV while the bored waitress studied her phone on the other end of the bar.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?"
Faith glanced up to see the bartender, a tall, older man with a bushy moustache and a long nose that sat above it like an awning, looking at her. His gaze didn't appear critical, merely curious. He was polishing a shot glass with a towel as he waited for her to answer.
"Nope," she shook her head. "This is the place." Her words weren't exactly slurred but there was no doubt she was drunk.
"You passing through?"
Brookesville was a small town where everyone knew everyone. This woman, with her shiny red lips, leather jacket and her seemingly bad girl demeanour, was definitely a stranger. And while the tough persona might scare off some, it was the sad, haunting eyes compelling him to speak to her.
"Yep, on my way to Cleveland." Faith threw back her drink and slammed the small shot glass against the bar. "Keep 'em coming."
He raised a bushy eyebrow at her, trying to decide whether or not he should cut her off or at the very least, take her car keys. People on their own during the holidays, drinking on their like this, usually had a streak of self-destruction you needed to keep an eye out on or else. This woman was sending him all kinds of red flags and the fact she had no people anywhere in the locality made him feel doubly responsible for her.
"Where are you staying?" He asked, putting the clean glass on the shelf behind him.
"You offering me a place to stay Handle Bars?" She winked, her manner going from drunk to flirt in one question. She leaned forward across the bar, lips curling in a smile.
He laughed. "No ma'am. Just wondering if you're walking or driving to where you're staying tonight."
"Oh," her face scrunched up into a pout of disappointment. "Here I thought I was going to get lucky."
"It was nice of you to think that," he was certain she was flattering him. He was after all almost seventy, even if he was in good shape. A fisherman's life had made him strong and lean but while he didn't have a wife at home, making it with a woman less than half his age was an indignity he wasn't allowing his ego to partake. "I'm just wanting to make sure you get home safe."
"Don't have a home," she shrugged, tapping the glass again.
After a momentary pause, he served her another short of tequila even though he was promised himself to find out how she was getting home if she asked for another. "How come?"
"Rolling stone," she joked. "Job takes me across the country. No need for it."
"What kind of job? Travelling salesgirl?'"
She uttered a laugh and it was surprisingly dry and pleasing to hear. Some women didn't laugh so much as they brayed, or giggled like they were silly teenagers. She sounded like neither. It was light chuckle, like the funny things for her, weren't all that funny to everyone else.
She was about to answer when voices interrupted the quiet, lethargic atmosphere of the bar. In the corner, the couple who until now kept to themselves were now engaged in an argument. It was mostly the man barking and the girl offering contrite words to placate him. It was only when the slap of flesh was heard that Faith sat up ramrod straight on the barstool.
The happy drunk the bartender, or Dan as he was known, was talking to suddenly vanished. In her place, was this force of righteousness sliding off the barstool and striding across the floor, with no hint the alcohol she'd been drinking affecting her in the slightest. Suspecting the mood was going to get ugly, Dan slipped out from behind the bar and followed her.
The girl in the booth didn't even look old enough to drink. She was blonde, too thin and wearing a studded denim jacket over a dark floral dress. When Faith approached, she looked up and revealed more than the red cheek of a slap. There were the healing signs of a black eye and punch to the jaw. The man sitting next to her was older, possibly thirty. Big, broad nosed and burly, he reminded Faith of Larry whathisname back in Sunnydale. Immediately, she pegged as a football player who still thought he was the star quarterback.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Faith leaned forward, both hands on the table eyeballing him with challenge.
"You?" He laughed and then added, "Fuck off. This is between me and my girl."
That was more than enough to prompt Faith into action. She reached across the table and grabbed him by the jacket before yanking him out of the booth with ease. The girl squealed as she watched her boyfriend being dragged across the table, sending her glass and his empties, crashing to the floor.
He flipped onto his back as Faith let go of him, training a stream of curses and swearing. Before he could get up, Faith planted a boot against his chest and held it there. With the full weight of slayer strength behind her, he was unable to get up and stared at her mystified, unable to imagine how this five foot nothing woman was keeping him pinned.
"Don't hurt him!" The girl pleaded. "He didn't mean it!"
By now, all eyes were on them, mostly they were staring at the dark haired woman in the jacket who had yanked the six foot three former quarterback out of his seat and pinned him to the ground like a bug. Faith was too drunk to care if she had an audience l. She hated men like this and she hated girls who put up with it almost as much.
"I bet he won't mean it when he kills you either," Faith shot back at her, whose face immediately dropped because the words penetrated. Without even hearing her say it, Faith her words mirrored the girl's own fears.
"Get off me you fucking bitch!" He demanded, his humiliation heightening his fury "Amy you tell this crazy lesbian dyke to get off me or we're done!"
"Seems to me you need to ask a little nice considering you're on the floor" Dan remarked standing behind Faith. By now, the men who were watching the game had shifted their attention to the commotion and were sniggering to themselves at the former football hero being wailed on by a girl.
"Fuck you!"
"Say you're sorry," Faith insisted looking at Amy, wishing she would see what kind of scum she allowing to treat her this way.
"It's alright!" Amy jumped quickly to his defence, tugging at Faith's arm so she'd step off him. "Stevie doesn't do it all the time, it's just when I'm being stupid."
Faith was ready to snap his neck just for Amy's response. It was always the same thing with these guys. They always found the weakest one in the pack and preyed on them. Using their insecurities and fears against them to explain abusive behaviour.
"That don't make it right Amy," Dan found himself saying. He knew Amy and Stevie and to his shame, confessed, ignoring the bruises whenever she came in. Sometimes, it just needed a perfect stranger to point out the obvious, not just to Amy but to him as well. "This lady here is right. It won't be long before Stevie does something worse. If you keep letting him to do this to you, when will it end?"
In retaliation, Stevie snarled back. "I won't be doing anything to her! We're done Amy! I don't need to waste my time on a dumb bitch like you!"
Faith slammed her foot on his stomach and made him double over before she removed her foot. He rolled onto his knees and coughing, with Amy rushing to his side. However, when she tried to help him, he shoved Amy away and got to his feet. Glaring at Faith, she thought he might throw a punch but the presence of Dan and other men at the bar, made him think better of it. Faith turned her attention to Amy and felt sick at the girl's crushed expression. She wouldn't be getting any thanks for this, not when Amy still thought the sun shone out of Stevie's ass.
"You get your stuff out of my house by tomorrow Amy!" Stevie shot his girlfriend a look of ice. Someone had to pay for this humiliation and he might as well be here. "You're a lousy lay and your tits are too small. I can do better."
"Stevie please!" She begged but he ignored her and stormed out of the place.
Amy started to cry and Faith felt guilty, realising she'd upended this girl's life by her interference because of her own demons. Still, she was if she was going to sit idly by and let Amy be Steve's punching bag. Those bruises on Amy's face, clearer now that she was out of the booth, implied the frequency of the beatings. If Stevie dumped Amy, it might possibly be the best thing for her.
"You shouldn't have done that!" She spat at Faith. "I didn't need your help! Now look at what you've done!"
"Girl you don't deserve what he was doing to you." Faith countered even though she knew it was a losing argument. "No guy is worth that!"
"SHUT UP!" Amy snapped angrily, having heard the same argument from so many of her friends, who were now not friends anymore. "You don't know anything!"
With that, she ran out after Stevie, pushing past Dan as she made for the door.
Faith almost went after the girl but she felt Dan's hand on her shoulder. "Don't ma'am," he advised. "You did good thing but some people, they can't be helped."
With a sigh, Faith couldn't disagree. Some things you had to learn the hard way. She knew that better than anybody.
By the time Amy reached the parking lot of the bar called Dan's Fishin' Hole, she saw Stevie's black pickup truck speed out of the parking lot, tyres screeching across the black road as he drove into the main street. Where he'd parked earlier, was a collection of random objects discarded haphazardly, all belonging to her. A book, a sweater and a small bag of cosmetics she kept in his glove compartment were now rubbish on the road.
"STEVIE!" She yelled after him but he barely noticed her over the roar of the truck's engines as he drove away.
Crying, she walked over to the spot and knelt down against the dark bitumen, tears running down her stinging face where he'd slapped her. Trembling, she picked up her belongings and shoved them into her handbag. What was she going to do tonight? Because of him, she no longer had any friends. If she couldn't convince him to take her back, she'd have to go her mother's. The thought filled Amy with despair, largely because her mother Patricia would remind her they were estranged in the first place. Patricia knew what kind of man her Amy was dating.
"You are crying daughter."
Amy looked up startled, not hearing the approach of the stranger standing in front of her.
The woman was tall and graceful. Jet coloured hair fell down her shoulders, the ends curling into soft ringlets. Her eyes were brown and her skin was slightly tanned, making Amy think she was Italian or Greek. Her dress was a simple shift that swirled around her ankles and was more appropriate to summer, certainly not the cold of a New England winter that would set a normal person's teeth chattering by now. She wasn't even wearing shoes.
The strangeness of her appearance made Amy forget all about Stevie for the moment or the fact she was now homeless. In a night where everything seemed to be coming to a head in her life, Amy was almost grateful for the distraction.
"Aren't you cold?"
The woman didn't answer. Instead, she dropped to her knees in front of Amy and reached for Amy's cheeks. Her touch felt warm despite the fact she should be freezing.
"Why these tears?" Her fingers brushed the moisture on her cheek. There was sympathy and kindness in her voice, like she wanted to help or give Amy a hug. Oddly enough, a hug would have been real nice about now.
"It's nothing," Amy wiped her eyes but found herself spilling the truth to this woman anyway. "It's my boyfriend Stevie. He broke up with me and kicked me out. I didn't mean for that girl in the bar to hurt him. She just didn't understand that I'm stupid sometimes and he needs to make me understand. It's not his fault!"
The woman brushed a finger over her cheek as if she was staring at some unschooled child.
"You are not stupid daughter. It is men who are stupid. Do you know God did not give much thought to his creation before Adam's making? God simply wanted someone to rule over the beast of the world he made. When he made woman, God had more time to consider the making of her and so Lilith came forth stronger and smarter."
Amy tilted her head at the woman, "I thought Eve came after Adam." She asked sniffling.
"Oh no, Lilith was Adam's first true wife. She was his equal and she would not yield to him as Eve did. It was Lilith who left Adam and became the mother of all demons."
Her words were hypnotic and Amy listened to her as if she were the sole recipient of some unspoken law of the universe only she was privy to.
"He doesn't mean to hurt me..." she tried to explain Stevie. "Sometimes, he's real nice but when he gets angry because I do something dumb, he loses his temper."
The woman took her hand and once again, Amy was struck by how warm she was despite the fact she was dressed in almost nothing. "No man should ever sit higher than a woman. Men were made poorly and it is this bad design that allows them to presume to rule over us. We share equality with God not with man. Like God, we can create life while men only create chaos."
"We need men to have babies..."
"Do we?" She looked at Amy smiling. "Do we really?"
Goddamn bitch!
Steve Hendler dragged open the drawer where Amy kept all her stuff and immediately upended it on the floor, raining bras and other delicates at his feet. Bending over, he scooped them up with both hands and marched over to the bedroom window. Not pausing to pick up any pieces he'd dropped on the way, he lifted the latch and let the cold air into the one bedroom apartment.
Tomorrow, he'd probably wake up and realise he'd made a mistake. Girls like Amy were hard to find. Low esteem and a willingness to please, conditioned her to put up with anything as long as Amy thought Stevie loved her. She'd never have the spine to leave him and maybe when he'd calmed down after being humiliated by that dyke bitch in the Fishing Hole, he'd take her back.
For now, she needed to know who was boss. A night scrounging for a place to sleep would be the perfect teacher.
Tossing the handful of clothes out through window, he smiled with satisfaction as he watched the pieces of fabric drift on the wind. Eventually they made it to the grounds of the two storey apartment block he was living in. The clothes were scattered across the grass on the tops of bushes and benches, a lovely tableau for her to see when she came crawling back to her tomorrow.
Turning back into the apartment, he scanned the place for other traces of her and sighted one of her posters on the wall. With the same malicious spite, he ripped her Ed Sheeran poster in half, leaving the glued edges on the wall paper. Satisfied, he tossed the balled remnants on the carpet and then went to the fridge and to get himself a beer.
He heard the doorknob twist.
Stevie lifted his head and stared down the hallway, surprised. He expected she'd crawl home to her mother and come back in the morning, ready to suck his cock if he'd only take her back. Maybe she'd learned her lesson quickly this time, and was going to make it up to him sooner rather than later. He stepped into the hallway when the door swung open and sure enough, it was Amy standing there.
"You better make it worth my while if you want to stay here tonight Amy."
She didn't speak and closed the distance between them. As she approached, he noticed there was something different about her. She moved gracefully, not like the usual nervous shuffle her feet seemed to make. Her blue eyes took him in like she was drinking him in, savouring the moment. It was almost predatory. He liked how it looked until he remembered; he was the one in charge here.
"You want to stay, get on your knees. You know what to do."
Her eyes met his and there was a strange smile on her lips, which also seemed fuller. The bruises he'd left behind were no longer there and her pale skin glowed. Her blond hair was almost shimmering under the light and Stevie realised he'd forgotten how pretty she was when she wasn't crying or whining.
Still silent, she came right up to him. Was she wearing a new perfume, he wondered? Away from the bar, with its reek of alcohol and smoke, the sweet scent of something floral tickled at his nose and made him lean in. The action made her smile and her lips were red and slick, invited him to kiss her.
"I said," he repeated himself, needing to exert his power because he felt as if her were losing it. "On your knees."
Before he could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed full on the mouth. It was a kiss of power and confidence. She invaded his mouth with her tongue, tasting and probing. For the first time, she was the one driving the kiss. The idea of it make him bristled and in turn, he slipped his tongue past her teeth, forcing it like he intended to force other things in her mouth soon enough. Reaching for her head, he prepared to shove her down when suddenly; he felt her teeth snap shut like a mouse trap.
The pain that followed was so blinding he shrieked except he could make no sound. It took him a split second to realise his cry was severed the same time as his tongue had been by her teeth.
Blood filled his mouth as he staggered backwards in excruciating pain, eyes widening in terror as he watched her standing there, his tongue dangling from her lips. For a moment, he thought of a dog holding a piece of steak in its mouth and visual filled him nausea. Blood ran down in rivulets across her chin as she closed the distance between. He tried to warn her back but instead found himself pressed up against the same wall he'd ripped her poster from.
Waiving his arms wildly at her to stay way, the cries he made were little more than a sickly gurgle, his words little more than garbled sounds. The pain was making him swoon but he did notice one thing as the world swirled around him. She'd gotten to her knees in front of him and said in a voice not quite her own.
"As you wish."
And snapped her teeth.