Chapter 11
"Well, like Willow said," Buffy started carefully, watching Faith in a too-scrutinizing way that set her skin on edge and made her want to jump from Buffy's range of view. "She thought you seemed upset, or worried…and she just, she thought maybe something was going on."
She looked at Faith expectantly, as if hoping for some sort of reply to the affirmative, but Faith looked back at her as flatly as possible, giving her nothing. Buffy hesitated, one corner of her mouth tucking in, before going on, her voice dropping somewhat.
"She said you wanted to see Xander, and you seemed upset and in a hurry…and something about you only having three pairs of pants?"
The last part was said the most quickly, and Buffy frowned, her forehead creasing as she glanced down at Faith's legs quickly.
"Do you really only have two pairs of pants?"
Shit. And the questions were beginning. This day was never gonna end, was it?
"Two now," Faith muttered as softly as she was capable of, but unlike the others, Buffy possessed a Slayer hearing as keen as her own, and Faith's reply did not escape her.
"Really?" Buffy asked with wide-eyed surprise, as if she couldn't conceive of such a thing- which she undoubtedly couldn't, since Faith had never seen her wear the same thing twice the entire time she'd known her. "You only have two pairs of pants?"
It's called "poverty," B. It's called "jeans are hard to steal much, they have tags and strips inside." It's called "the Slayer lifestyle and now Earl too gives a short life span to what pants you have…" it's called "have you ever opened your eyes and brain enough to look at where I'm living and think that maybe it's not that I think this damn motel is such a great place to live, but that maybe it's all I can afford, and maybe I can't even afford it?"
Damn Slayer hearing. Damn Earl more.
"No big thing, B, I'll get more," Faith shrugged, carefully watching her own words to guard herself against any accidental lies. There had been way more than enough of that today- and Buffy was the absolute last person who needed to see her ass-flaming magic trick. "My other pairs…kinda got messed up, is all. You know how it is."
"Well, can't you wash them or something?" Buffy asked with a continued frown, and Faith suppressed a laugh, smirking at the thought of wearing laundered, but butt-less, jeans.
"They're kind of beyond that, B…and it's not like I carry around stacks of quarters."
"Well, you could exchange dollars at a bank or something, couldn't you?" Buffy persisted, and Faith shook her head, incredulous.
How naïve was she- did she seriously not realize that some people, such as a runaway orphan who never had anything to begin with, didn't have cash at all, let alone a bank that would swap it out?
Before she could censor herself, she found herself muttering as much under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Would have to actually have cash to be able to do that…"
Obviously overhearing again, Buffy's frown continued as she looked at her closely, and Faith deliberately shifted herself so she didn't have to look at her straight on. What she was wanting about now was to stand up, put some pants on, and get the hell away from the Buffy Round of Questions that of course had never before existed until this day- but what was she supposed to do, leave Buffy in her room to snoop around alone? What if she found Faith's pants- how the hell would she explain that? An especially kinky sex game?
"Well…you could wash stuff at our house, I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind," Buffy said slowly, and Faith, seeing that she had more on her mind and was clearly trying to figure out how to say it, nodded, giving a quick smile.
"Yeah, cool, thanks, B. Take you up on it some day, alright?" Not a chance in hell. But she didn't have to know that. "Now, look, I need to shower, so why don't you go give that guy of yours a neck sucking not involving blood and soul loss or something, alright?"
She raised an eyebrow, swinging her legs off the side of her bed and getting to her feet, and moved to retrieve her clothes from her dresser. All this time she pointed turned her back to Buffy, in what should have been a clear indication that it was time for her to make her exit. But the other girl stood there, arms crossed, and though Faith was doing all she could not to look at her as she made a show out of getting one of her last two pairs of jeans, she could feel Buffy's frown, almost hear the concern aimed towards her back.
"Faith," Buffy said finally, her voice soft, careful, enough that Faith's spine automatically stiffened defensively, her jaw setting. "Faith, do you not have enough clothes?"
There was no answer to that which wouldn't involve fire and/or total humiliation on Faith's part of some kind, so she didn't respond, taking the jeans in her hand and heading towards the bathroom with them. But Buffy had clearly seen her mostly empty drawer, and Faith felt her following behind her as she continued talking.
"I mean, you seem to have a lot of shirts, right? And you have leather pants- those cheetah ones- those black ones, and those snake looking ones- but I haven't seen you wear them in a while."
All had been rendered unwearable in the line of slaying…and shirts were easier to steal than pants. But Faith wasn't about to say that, so she just shrugged again, turning her head quickly with her hand on the doorknob of the bathroom.
"Said I was gonna shower, B. So unless you want to join me…"
Normally that kind of comment would be enough to make Buffy blush, stammer, and squeal about Faith's perviness, thus totally distracting her from whatever Faith wanted her to be distracted from. But Buffy the fashionista was not to be distracted from this clothes thing, and to Faith's amazement, she didn't even seem to clue in to its meaning.
"In fact, it seems like all you've worn is jeans when I've seen you lately- and shorts, once or twice, but you know, all jeans and shorts pretty much look the same, and I just figured- Faith, do you really only have two pairs of jeans?" Buffy blurted, seemingly so blown away by this information that she couldn't let it go. Though Faith stared at the bathroom door, her hand tightening around its knob without twisting it open, she could see the blonde's stunned expression of the corner of her eye and didn't dare look her full on, feeling her heartbeat quicken in her chest. "TWO?"
It was obvious that the other girl wasn't going to be diverted away from this or forget it somehow…it was at the point now where she was too invested to back off, and knowing Buffy, she would probably even follow Faith into the shower, natural prude nature or not, firing questions. Or even worse, if Buffy let her go and stayed behind in the motel room alone, she might start going through Faith's drawers, counting all her clothes and coming up with a tally sheet in multi color or something.
Shit. There was no getting out of this. And yet again, Faith suspected it was Earl's doings…somehow this was all his fault.
"I'm a minimalist, B," she replied somewhat tightly, turning her head, if not her body, to face the other girl, and Buffy gave a slight laugh that was more disbelieving than amused.
"A minimalist? Faith, I ware more pants in one day than you currently own!"
"It's Spartan," she muttered, a memory of the woman who had told her so quickly flitting into her mind that she worked to shove away, swallowing and lifting her chin before replying more clearly. "Look, B, it's fi-"
She stopped herself hurriedly, before what Earl would undoubtedly consider a lie left her lips, and cleared her throat, trying again as she was uncomfortably aware of Buffy's on her. "I don't need- I mean…the pants thing, it's not a-"
But everything that so instinctively rose to her mind to give as a response, everything she was dying to say out loud to get Buffy off of her back was a lie, and Faith stopped speaking, her mind struggling to find something that was truthful, but would also get Buffy to go away satisfied. Absolutely nothing came to mind, and it was beginning to dawn on her that maybe that was because there WAS nothing.
Faith felt her face heat, and she thinned her lips, looking back at the bathroom door; meanwhile her stumbling words had done nothing to assuage Buffy's growing suspicion as she looked at her with narrowed eyes, taking a hesitant step forward.
"Do you…Faith, do you get enough to eat?"
There was no way in hell that Faith could tell her the truth about that…how her dinner often consisted of whatever she could steal or knock out of a vending machine, how she stuffed herself every time she went to someone's home not because she was rude or gluttonous, but because it might be her only meal of the day. But "yes" would result in ass flaming, so Faith struggled, avoiding Buffy's eyes, to come up with some sort of response that wasn't a lie, yet wasn't completely mortifying to give.
She might want people to show an interest…but what Faith didn't want was to force people's pity on her.
She hoped Buffy would simply think her lack of response was due to disinterest or irritation, maybe ADD, but no, Buffy was still looking at her like she expected an answer. And a Buffy that didn't get what she wanted, Faith suspected by this point, was a Buffy who wouldn't let things slip without a fight. And comments…a LOT of comments.
"Faith, do you plan on answering anything I say with an actual reply, or are you going to stand there staring at the door?"
Yep, definitely not letting this slip by.
Faith let go of the doorknob deliberately, turning and flashing Buffy a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes before maneuvering around her bed to the door leading out on the opposite side of the room, grasping it instead as she shrugged, calling out to her over her shoulder.
"Look, don't worry about me, alright, there's a lot more shit going on all around the world than anything you could ask. You want to go patrol?"
"First off, it's daylight…not too sure we'd be having much to patrol for, unless there are some especially scary rabbits hanging around," Buffy smirked slightly, and Faith's hand tightened on the doorknob, her body leaning in towards it unconsciously. Okay, maybe patrol wasn't the smoothest suggestion, but did Buffy have to look so amused? "And second off…I'm asking you questions here, Faith, and I'm not letting you leave without answering them."
"What, am I under arrest here?" Faith blustered, shaking her head, some challenge to her tone. "Cause if I was I'd have the right to remain silent. Look, B, I'm getting out of here, getting a little stir crazy, and since you don't have a key…"
She raised an eyebrow pointedly, a clear indication in her own mind that this was Buffy's cue to exit. But obviously Buffy's idea of a clear sign and Faith's differed, because yet again, the other girl didn't move.
"Faith," she said slowly, as if the thought was only then occurring to her. "You don't have a job, right? So how are you getting money?"
Alarm bells shot off in Faith's brain, and her spine stiffened, her shoulders drawing together. She lifted her chin in instinctive defensiveness as she tensed her jaw, feeling her heart hammer harder and faster in her chest.
"Later, B," she said tightly, opening the door with every intention to step outside, but Buffy crossed over to her in two strides, taking her arm and stopping her escape. Faith gritted her teeth at the feeling of Buffy's warm hand on her arm, the gentleness combined with firm pressure of her touch, and though she wanted to rip her arm away, to keep going and leave her behind, when she told her feet to take a step, neither of them moved.
Buffy was still holding her arm, watching Faith's profile, and though Faith attempted to focus her attention on the door again and not on anything anywhere near Buffy's face, she could still see her in part, see the concern in her features as well as hear it in the softness of her voice.
"Faith…I won't yell at you or tell on you, or anything. Is it like you were saying to me the other day- want, take, have? Do you steal?"
Buffy knew that Faith stole. Hell, Faith had given her a crash course on how to do it, complete with getting arrested. What Buffy didn't know was how often Faith stole, and how necessary it was at times for her to get by…what she didn't know was that it wasn't her only way, at times, to achieve monetary means or other necessities.
"Sometimes," Faith muttered, seeing no way out of giving Buffy SOME kind of answer, and then raised her voice, attempting to pull her arm away from her. "Look, Buffy, I'm gonna-"
"You don't have to, you know," Buffy cut her off, her voice still soft. She didn't try to take Faith's arm again, but still stood near. Faith could feel her almost as if she were still touching her. "Mom worries about you, you know. Just like she does Willow and Xander. She'd feed you whenever you wanted if you asked, or wash your clothes, or whatever else. She wouldn't care."
No, Faith knew very well that Joyce Summers wouldn't find feeding her a few times a week. Faith had seen the way she looked at her sometimes with her brow furrowed and concern in her eyes, even as she smiled and spoke to her warmly, and she knew that Joyce did worry about her, once in a while, if the thought occurred to her. Joyce probably wouldn't mind if Faith went so far as to announce that she was moving in. After all, Xander and Willow already practically lived at Buffy's house, and they were pretty much Joyce's adopted kids. Joyce wouldn't turn down one more. She was too nice for that, too much of a class act.
But if she took Faith in, or even had her over or fed her as much as she did Willow and Xander, it wouldn't be because she wanted to, really, or because Faith was just naturally accepted as part of the Summers' family, or even because she was one of Buffy's best friends. She wasn't. It would be out of pity or obligation, because she thought Faith wanted or needed it, and that was what Faith wouldn't be able to stand.
She wouldn't be Joyce's good deed or sense of duty. She wouldn't be anyone's burden or obligation. She could damn well take care of her own self. She wasn't Joyce's kid or anyone else's for that matter. If her own mother hadn't wanted her, who the hell was Faith to want or expect anyone else to?
She would take care of herself. She always had.
"I'm not a charity case, I don't need shit from your mom- or you," Faith told Buffy roughly, hardening her expression and again turning the doorknob. "Are you gonna go now, or are you just-"
"Faith, how old are you?" Buffy blurted, and again Faith stilled.
The question itself didn't normally bother her, not that anyone usually asked it. Everyone seemed to assume Faith was at least 18, sometimes more like 21, and that was how she liked it. If not, it wasn't hard to lie. But now…all the questions she had never had to deal with in depth up to this point, were coming out all at once, and Faith didn't know what the hell she could do, or even what she should do.
Her every instinct told her to run…but could she really outrun Buffy when Buffy was determined to chase her down? If she avoided answering now, what about the next day? What if Buffy got everyone else in on it and they were all there, everywhere Faith turned?
There were some things Buffy could ask, if she thought to, if she somehow guessed, that Faith couldn't answer….some things that no one but her should ever know, that Faith herself tried every day to forget. What if Buffy plowed right into the middle of them? What if she somehow saw the answers and cut through any blocking Faith could try to put up to see right to the truth?
Faith's mind raced with images from a hundred directions, realizations of what Buffy might find out. What she might force out of her. Rapid visualizations of a cluttered, dingy apartment, of the beer cans and bottles overflowing the trash can and scattered about the floor, of empty eyes and slurred voices, hands jerking and pinching, slapping, shoving, some female and repeated, some male and new…she saw her mother's face, slack and staring without sight in death, the glimmer of anticipation in the vampires' eyes as they turned towards her, the broken, bloodied body of her Watcher left in their wake. She saw herself retrieving leftovers from the top of a dumpster, tearing out protective devices from clothes in the store changing room, slipping men's wallets out their pants before sending them out her motel door…she saw herself curled up in bed alone, her body shaking with sobs though her eyes didn't release tears, and Faith knew there was no way, absolutely no way in hell, heaven, or any other location in questionable existence, that she could ever let Buffy know any of it, even if only through questions.
And yet when she finally answered her, her voice was quiet, not as harsh as she intended…and at first, the answer was just that, an answer, before she concluded with a hardened tone to distance herself once and for all.
"I'm seventeen. But when I got here I was sixteen. Turned seventeen back in December. Not that anyone fucking asked. Now are you fucking happy, is that what you were fucking looking for?"
Again, an attempted break for the exit…again Buffy's hand shot out, pulling her back, stopping her intended flight. Faith yanked her arm roughly, trying to force her to let go, her adrenaline rising to the degree that she spun around to punch Buffy, her fist shooting towards Buffy's jaw. Buffy's other hand caught it with impressive timing, then held it tightly, not releasing Faith's hand as she looked her straight in the eyes, her voice rising.
"Faith…you're…if you're underage, how are you living here? I mean, I did it before, I know places take cash, but you don't have a job, and…Faith, why didn't you ever tell someone you're not eighteen? We could have helped you…at least given you the option of living somewhere else…I mean, HERE? Why here? You can't like it here, it's-"
"Yes I do," Faith snapped without thinking. "It's exactly what I want, I want to be left the fuck alone-"
But the warmth in her pants flared up threateningly, and she swore, shouting the correct recantation with more fury than reluctance or embarrassment. If Earl had chosen to appear to her then, she would have found some way to kick his angel ass the way he'd been begging for.
"OKAY, I don't like it here, it's not what I want, I fucking hate it, and I think it's fucking fucked up that it takes a fucking angel screwing with things to make anyone start thinking about that, IS THAT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH OF A TRUTH FOR YOU?"
Buffy blinked several times, somewhat stunned, and Faith noticed her grip easing as she said in slow confusion, "What does Angel have to do with any of this?"
Shit…this was all too much. Way too much, and she couldn't stand here, she couldn't deal with this any longer. But even as Faith spun away from her, Buffy was following her out the door, keeping stride with her as she talked rapidly, staying right at her elbow.
"Faith, wait. Come on, we need to talk about this…"
"Go home, Buffy!" Faith snapped, jaw clinched, her heartbeat spiking in her chest, her blood pumping strongly in her veins, but Buffy ignored her, as always.
"Faith, why didn't you tell us, if that's how you felt? Why didn't-"
At that question, Faith came to a stop, spinning around to face her as a short, incredulous laugh broke from her lips. Who was the girl kidding? To be doing so much thinking suddenly, it was very damn limited and Buffy-like.
"Are you kidding? No one can be bothered to learn my name and birthday, but I'm supposed to fucking invite myself over to live with you? What the fuck other option did I have?"
Buffy's cheeks colored, and her eyes shifted away from Faith's direct gaze. For a moment Faith thought she had managed to shut Buffy down, that she could think of no other reply and was shamed or embarrassed enough to finally leave her alone.
But then Buffy lifted her chin, meeting her eyes again, and the determined set of her jaw and directness of her gaze was reflected in the decisiveness of her tone.
"Well, there will be options now. So come on. We're going to go find them. Now."
She didn't give Faith an opportunity to protest. Instead she seized her hand in a Slayer grip and started to haul her down the street with her. Though Faith physically and verbally protested, Buffy's only response was to painstakingly drag her forward. After a few moments Faith gave up; and even as her heart slammed in her chest and her mind shouted alarmed protests, a part of her also wondered what Buffy was doing…and maybe, just maybe, if she actually could make things better.
It was enough of a dissonance in thought that Faith was no longer sure what she wanted, or even what she should want. And strangely enough, Earl was remaining silent on the subject.
