Chapter 47
The Poison of Words
Tara, Giles and Willow have drawn an elaborate mystical pattern in what looks like bright green rock salt on the polished dark wood floor. Essentially, it's a big triangle with, yunno… wiggly woo woo stuff around it. In the middle sits Giles's reading chair, and in this light, it is looking far too ominously like the electric chair for my tastes.
Faith and I hover at the edge of the room, I can feel her tension.
"This gonna hurt?"
"I hope so." Willow says brightly.
I feel a flip of guilt in my belly as the girls stare each other down. Faith beat unconscious and kidnapped Willow, my best friend, holding her at knife point. And here I am asking her to accept her back into her life, to forgive her as I have, with no context. I should have spent time with Willow, and that's on me. I can't fault Willow's attitude.
Faith considers the girl for a moment, and then comes a nod of acceptance.
"Fair." Faith says.
I place my hand comfortingly on the small of Faith's back. An invisible gesture with an equally invisible reply of gratitude, as Faith pressed back into my touch. Her face is as composed and indifferent as usual, but I am starting to read through her walls. Through the palm of my hand I feel every muscle in her tense, feel her pulse jack to the roof, and I follow her gaze to the small marble top coffee table that has been pushed to one side. Upon it sits a rectangle of a deep green velvet, with a magical circle and symbols worked in gold thread. Two small clay statues of what seem to be plump women with sticks for hands sit either side, framed by candles. A shrine or altar of sorts, I guess. But it is what hovers a foot above the magic circle that has captured Faith's gaze. Her double bladed Jackal knife.
"D-don't touch it, Faith." Tara says. "It's more cursed than we suspected. It messes with your mind, makes you want to do stuff."
"What kinda stuff?"
"Uh… kill. It induces resentment, anger, jealousy. Takes away your inhibitions to harm others."
Faith takes this news hard, and shakes out her head, eyes unfocused. Her hand finds mine, and as it does, it is trembling.
"You hear that Faith?" I whisper. She looks at me, the resolve in her face cracking, her eyes glossy.
"He… wouldn't. He… oh god." She says. "Buffy she… and I… when the old man…"
"It was the knife, Faith."
"Oh, you don't get off that easy." Willow says. "You were a grade A evil bitch before that thing showed up. You stabbed us all in the back bef..."
Faith's strangled cry cuts Willow's tirade short. She folds, hands to knees, red faced, tears flowing from her in gouts as she gasps loudly for air. A rasping sob, and she buckles at the knees, her fingers clawing into bloodless fists.
I am too stunned to move, and I watch as the girl I love seems to implode. She kicks at the floor, driving herself back into the corner, dragging the carpet and furniture with her. She balls up, clutching her clawed hands over her head like she is sheltering from bombs.
"No, no, no" she repeats over and over. "He wouldn't. He wouldn't. He…" she lets out a roar that dies into sobs. I close the distance, unsure if touching her is the best idea, so just hover over her, at best a shield to hide her tears from the room.
"Can you give us a minute or two please?" I say to those gathered.
"Of course." Giles says. They filter out the room, the last face I see is a rather shell shocked Willow. It takes more than a few minutes for Faith to breathe evenly enough to form proper words again.
"He played me too." She said. "Everyone always does."
"People suck." I say. "I won't lie. It's a fact."
"My whole life, every goddamn time I… I think I find someone who… something to believe in that stops me sliding deeper and deeper and… " she trails off, punching at her own knee.
"He was like a dad to you." I say. "A real one. Not like the jerks you and I got lumped with."
"He fuckin' played me too. Everyone does. Wesly… Post… Buffy... Everyone."
"I'm sorry." I sigh. "What about your watcher. The one dish woman?"
"Diana." She sniffs. "Dunno. Maybe. She died before she could. I mean. What Giles did to Buffy? The Cruciamentum thing? She would have done that to me too, right? I mean, that's all we are, us Slayers. Disposable."
"Maybe she wouldn't have. Giles regrets what he did. He lost his place on the council because he had a father's love for Buffy."
"He still did it."
"He did." I sigh. "But no reason to think Diana would have. Regardless of disappointment, we hafta hope for the best in people. Okay, maybe not with ones who want to turn into big snakes and eat everyone, but, you get me, right?
"Sometimes you will be proved wrong. But sometimes, possibly rarely, but sometimes not."
"You believe that?" Faith looks up at me for the first time, broken from her haze. Her eyes take me in, flicking around my features. "You don't know me. Don't know what shit was runnin' through my head. What I planned. Willow is right about me. I am just bad. Evil."
"Faith, you got dealt a bad hand. It's the hand that's bad, not you, or the game. It's how you play it that matters. And you are here, doing the right thing. You hurting about it means you aren't evil. You have remorse. You have a soul. He tricked you into doing things you wouldn't have."
"You don't know that." She says.
"I remember when you arrived. You weren't… you were funny and carefree, but when it mattered, you ran into danger to save others. I remember you running at a werewolf with no weapons. A werewolf, Faith."
"I am not who you think I am."
"Maybe. I am a dumb ass, and the wool is almost permanently over my eyes, it is true. We both know that. But Faith, you are moments away from getting your powers back, and having a second chance to be the hero you were chosen to be. And who knows? You may prove me right."
"You didn't… I mean… you never played me, right?"
"Never. Never have. Never will." I sigh and rub my face. "Truth or silence, that was the deal."
"I saved you. You save me."
"So, er… How am I doing?"
Faith laughs tearfully and presses a hot kiss to my lips. Forehead to forehead, I can feel waves of emotion coming off of her. Swimming around in an ocean of pain and relief, love and hate The sweet and sour of life, condensed. She looks up at me through dark heavy lashes.
"B stabbed me when she held the knife. Do you think it affected her too?"
"Maybe. You still love her?"
"Always. Love and hate. Fighting and fucking. It all gets tangled up with us. Heh. Maybe it's a Slayer thing?" I smile at the memory of Buffy on the dream beach Faith is unconsciously summoning.
"I love her too." I confess. "So maybe it is."
"Threesome?" Faith says with a waggle of her brow.
"There's my girl." I laugh, and kiss her. "You ready to get this show on the road?"
"Yeah. Yes. I think I am."
