PROMPT THIRTY-FIVE: Life
The two of you tried to do the friend thing, had seen each other through relationships which always ended the same way. You would get teary, would run to her and the two of you would talk it through over a tub of ice cream. She would go out and get ridiculously drunk and you would get a phone call from the bartender Joe who you were now on a first name basis with, Faith didn't do relationships well. You would drag her home, whilst she sang horrible country songs in the passenger seat, something you blame Xander for, and then you would put her to bed. She would hold onto your hand until she passed out and you would tuck her in and place a kiss on her forehead. Every time without a doubt exactly two hours later she would creep quietly into your room and stand at the end of your bed, she would never say anything, just stand there with her hands cupping her elbows and swaying slightly from the alcohol that still coursed through her veins.
The first time it happened you had been asleep and almost jumped out of your skin when you woke to the feeling of someone watching you. Now that it was more than a regular occurrence you waited up for her and would pull back your covers giving her the silent invitation she needed. It wasn't that she didn't want to be in a relationship, she did but Faith just wasn't very good at it. Since the destruction of Sunnydale she had been working hard on becoming a new person and that included opening herself up to others, which she was finding hurt just as much as she thought it would. You encouraged her though to keep opening herself up to her partners, knowing that in the long run it will be for the best. Faith had had five relationships in the past year and you had watched each one self destruct right in front of your eyes. They started off happy but as the relationship went further Faith's old issues would resurface and eventually would be the cause of the breakup.
You knew that the main reason Faith would go and drink more than her body weight when this happened was not because she had been so in love with these people but more that she couldn't seem to break herself of old habits that made her terrified to truly commit herself to another person. This last guy, Tristan, you had thought the two of them were perfectly suited to one another. He was tall and muscled and always had a layer of stubble across his chiselled jaw. He wore his leather jacket like a uniform and he had a sense of humour that mirrored Faith's perfectly. The dark Slayer had been so excited when they first started dating and you had been genuinely happy that she was happy, you wanted nothing more for her.
You had been in a relationship at the time and you had actually thought that maybe the two of you had found it, what everyone was talking about. Your relationship had broken down first and she had been there to pick you back up and the two of you had gorged yourselves on Ben and Jerry's until she had actually been sick. You hadn't had any sympathy for her though because you had warned her that that much whipped cream would not end well. With yourself free from a relationship you had been free to become a spectator again instead of being caught up in another person.
Whilst Tristan was relaxed and had been fairly content with a casual relationship he had eventually become frustrated with Faith's reluctance to share anything with him. With a little encouragement from you the brunette had begun to open up to him, sharing bits of herself little by little. She had been ready to commit to him, and had told you as much one night on patrol. You had been surprised and she had quickly assured you that she wasn't talking marriage or making fat babies but that she felt that he had dealt well with all she shared with him and she felt like she could trust him. You had told her how happy you were that she had found someone that she could trust and she joked about setting you up with one of Tristan's friends.
You thought that this was it, that Faith had found the one, someone she felt she could confide in that was something she hadn't found before. She had confided in you, told you all about the horrors of her past but before now had never been able to trust anyone else with those facts. You had hoped and prayed after she told you how much he knew that he wouldn't use it against her, that they would make it work so she wouldn't take a gigantic step backwards. It had seemed that this was the case and they continued moving forwards, Tristan had even been given a key to the Academy and was a regular around the house.
You're still not sure what happened, hadn't even been aware that there had been a problem until you had received the call from Joe the bartender. He had given you a friendly smile when you walked into the bar and pointed over to where you could see familiar brown hair splayed out across the table in the darkened corner. Her head was resting on an outstretched arm and she was staring, eyes half lidded at the label of the bottle she clutched in her hand. She hadn't protested as you pried the bottle from her grasp and had looked up at you with such sadness and hurt in her brown eyes that you felt the familiar prickle of tears burn your eyes.
"You wanna go home?" you asked her softly and she sighed nodding not bothering to raise her head from the table.
You helped her stand, holding her against you with one arm and placing money for her drinks on the table with the other. You said a grateful thanks to Joe who told you to look after her before you took her out to your car. She was silent as you buckled her into the passenger seat and as you began to drive back to the Academy you became increasingly concerned when she didn't sing along to the country music you put on the radio.
She was so quiet that you thought she had passed out and when you pulled into the garage you had just watched her as she sat in the passenger seat with her eyes closed.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked quietly and you jumped when she broke the silence.
"Nothing," you said.
"Why am I such a fuckup?" she asked ignoring you.
"You're not," you tell her your hand seeking hers.
She doesn't respond but you feel her give your hand a little squeeze. You lean over and brush away the lone tear that is trailing its way down her cheek.
"Come on let's get you up to bed so you can sleep this off and then we can talk about it in the morning," you say.
"Mmm tired," she mumbles leaning into your hand which cups her cheek.
"I know baby," you say softly.
You help her out of the car and up the stairs heading towards your bedroom because you know in two hours it will be where she would end up anyway. If she notices she doesn't complain but leans heavily on you the alcohol fumes seeming to come out of her pores. You help her out of her jacket and jeans, leaving her in a black tank top and panties before putting her in the bed, pulling the covers up under her chin.
"He told me he loved me," she said as you settled into the bed next to her.
You held your breath as you waited for her answer an unfamiliar weight suddenly settling against your chest. For some reason you felt the sudden urge to go out and find Tristan and show him what being a Slayer really meant. No relationship she had ever been in had ever progressed that far and you suddenly realised how much you hated him for being the first one to say it to her. She had always run to you with her problems, had trusted no one like she trusted you and with the realisation that you could've lost that with three simple words made your heart ache in a way you hadn't experienced before.
"I couldn't say it back and he-he was so fucking angry," she said turning so her body was curled towards yours but not quite touching, "Didn't wanna put himself out there and get nothin' back but I don't think I do, love him I mean."
"It's okay if you don't," you say, "You don't have to say it back simply because he said it. If you don't feel it then there's no point leading him on, if you really don't love him then you did the right thing."
"He said I was defective, too fucked up to love anyone," she whispers pressing her head against your shoulder.
You grit your teeth, now sure that if you ever saw him again you wouldn't hesitate in heating his head against the cement. Even after everything she had told him, spilled every dark secret of her past to him, even when he knew how badly she had been treated and hurt in the past he had, in his own hurt and embarrassment used them to reiterate every fear she had about herself.
"You know you're not, Faith, since Sunnydale turned into craterville you have proven time and time again that you are compassionate and caring, you have, you are my best friend and if I have to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you that you are worthy well goddamnit I will do it," you tell her.
She sighs deeply; shutting her eyes and buries herself against your side patting around until she finds your hand. Once she's found it she holds it in her own and moves it so your clasped hands are resting above your heart.
"I love you B," she says, the rum on her breath blowing into your face.
"I love you too," you say smiling, wrapping your free arm around her.
"See how easy that was B, I love you," she says and your heart flutters.
"I know you do, now shut up and go to sleep," you tell her the weight that had been on your chest lifting as you feel her start to relax against you.
"Love you," she whispers as her breathing evens out.
"God I love you too," you tell her now unconscious form.
You don't know how you'd never noticed before but now that you'd said it you know that it was the truth. You loved her and you probably always had. You loved her wholly and completely. If it took a lifetime, well that's what it would take but you would show her exactly how much she was worth. You would spend your life loving her even if it meant watching her go to relationship to relationship because one day you were positive that she would realise that when she said she loved you, it wasn't just the Jack Daniels talking. The two of you were going to be a forever sort of deal, even if takes a lifetime to get there.