High school was a lot like prison. Well, what Faith had seen of high school, given the fact that she'd never stayed at one long enough to learn her locker combination, or which cleaning closet was the most private if you wanted to make out with someone. Her times roaming the halls of Sunnydale High didn't count, trailing after Buffy, lurking in her shadow while everyone worshipped her like she was the best thing since Ben and Jerry's. Like high school, prison had cliques, groups of power -or rather, people who thought they had power. The food was also, at best, discarded garbage sludge and...she was once again completely alone. But unlike high school, Faith had chosen to be here, had chosen to turn herself in. She needed help, she knew that, but whether or not she deserved that help was a whole other story.
Angel thought she did. Buffy thought she didn't. She couldn't blame her. If someone had tried to switch bodies with Faith, pissed would not have been enough to cover it. In all honesty, she'd have likely gutted the sucker and left 'em for the rats, after making sure she was back in her own body, of course. Faith was the Slayer, and therefore she could justify her survival, her need to do what other's were unwilling to in order to stay alive: her purpose was to fight vampires. Well, at least Fate thought it was her purpose, since Faith hadn't exactly ticked the 'Slayer' box on the 'What do you wanna be when you grow up?' worksheet. She was strong, and everyone else was weak, was grass to be crunched under her boots and turned to pulpy mush. Nothing could touch her, nothing could stop her.
Except the memories. Those, those she couldn't fight her way through, couldn't kill with a stake to the heart or a sword to the head. Memories could come at any time, invade and take root in her brain, playing behind her closed eyelids when she tried to sleep. So much fear, so much anger, so much death and destruction, a frickin' tsunami of it, a whirlwind chomping down on everything in sight. That's what she'd been. All her life, it was all Faith had been good at: causing damage. Disappointing people. Tunneling ever deeper into the darkness that dwelled within her. She didn't know where it had come from; if she wanted to get all psychological about it, maybe from her mom, or her lack of a dad. Almost everyone she'd ever met had seen that darkness and been afraid, been cowered by it, had thought it was something to fight against, fight against her very self.
Except him. The Mayor. The only person who had told her to embrace that darkness, who had rewarded her for simply being who she was. He'd been like her, he'd understood, and it had not frightened him. Richard Wilkins had given her a home, a place at his side, and sure, he'd been a bit of an oddball and she'd never seen someone clean their hands so much in her whole life than he had in a single hour but...but he'd loved her. In his own, twisted way, he'd loved her, looked after her, appreciated all she could do, all she was willing to do. Yes, she'd been the Slayer, but to him, she'd just been Faith, and she'd needed that, more than she'd ever realized; she'd needed someone who just liked her for her. But he was gone now, though, taking all her hopes of peace with it. Yes, peace, for in the world he'd wished to create, she would not have had to hide the parts of her that didn't conform, that didn't fit in with everyone's version of the 'Perfect Girl.'
But he'd also been wrong. He'd hurt people, innocents, kids who had just been about to start their lives after high school, go out into the world and make something of themselves. Those people hadn't deserved to get eaten. Neither had those people at the Church in Sunnydale. Maybe that was why she'd gone, why she'd taken one look at the plane ticket in her hand and felt sick, imagining herself on that tin can in the sky while people died at the hands of vampires, vampires it was in her power to kill: to even the score, to make amends. Or maybe being in Buffy's body had gotten to her, messed with her head. The Goody-Two-Shoes bullcrap was so strong in her, it was bound to seep into her brain, just a little. Right?
Man, that had been fun. Buffy had a freedom that Faith had never had, was pure and unburdened and never had to doubt if anyone cared about her. She never made a mistake, never had to be sorry for anything. She was the Slayer, and everyone took her as this tiny blonde paragon of glory and awesomeness. It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Why couldn't she have that, why couldn't she connect to people like that?
The fact that she was currently in a jail cell, listening to her bunkmate's heavy snores which were so loud Faith wondered if they were a new species of noise altogether, was probably her answer to that little conundrum. Darkness all around her, darkness all within her.
Faith had never been scared of the dark. Growing up, she'd never needed a nightlight or the bedroom open three inches -but it wasn't like her mom would have done any of those things even if she had been- had never had the urge to check under her bed for monsters. The real monsters, they'd been outside her room, had been her mom when she was drunk, the guys she'd bring home and then discard before the sun rose, had been the world outside, the world that would show Faith no kindness, no mercy. So she would not show those things either. Would not give second chances or even first chances. A kid like her, no one would ever see her as nothing more but trash, a waste, a bad girl with a bad mom living in bad neighborhoods and doing bad things. Fair enough: she wouldn't give them a reason to. She'd be as bad as she could be, would be guided by no deep, inner moral compass or whatever but only by what she wanted. She started spinning in it, spinning in the stereotype.
Faith hadn't stopped spinning, not until now. Now, she'd stopped, and realized that the world was still out there, and that her tricks had done nothing but bring her more pain. But pain was easy. It was so, so easy. It was simple, and straightforward, and after a while you learned to like the taste of it, learned how to use it: if Faith hurt, she'd inflict that hurt on others, as if she was passing it on like a cold, making them sick, making them weak. Because feelings made you weak, made you vulnerable and open to attack. When you felt something about a person, you gave a piece of yourself away, a piece you'd never get back, and that gave them power, power over you and the rest of your pieces. And those pieces, they always ended up getting broken.
Shards. Nasty, jagged pieces, never a clean break, always ragged, piercing your insides, your head, your heart, weapons that could only be used on yourself. Buffy had hurt her. Faith never admit it, but she had. She'd had wanted someone, wanted someone so badly. There'd never been anyone else like her, not a single soul Faith had met before becoming the Slayer who she had wanted to connect with on a real, human level. She'd wanted a friend, a friend like a sister, wanted someone to trust, someone who she didn't have to explain herself to, someone who would watch her back and give Faith a break from doing it all these years. Buffy had not watched her back. No, she'd stabbed her in it -and the gut.
Buffy.
She wondered if Buffy had ever really felt pain, or if she'd walked around with everyone else protecting her from it. The sweet little angel, don't want to make her all dirty.
Angel.
Thinking of him didn't hurt as much, but there was still pain there, regret for how she'd treated him, used him. She didn't regret causing a little more tension in the Buffy and Angel Saga, of which she was just a mere footnote. When she'd been staying with him, she'd still been able to see her in his eyes, like Buffy was still a part of him. It was kinda pathetic, cause while Batman had been all pining, Buffy must have been out shopping for his replacement. She'd obviously picked the first Clark Kent Farmboy who gave her a smile and figured he would do, like going out for pineapples and getting blueberries instead, just 'cause they're both fruit.
Sleeping with him hadn't been about the sex, of course, but only on getting the one up on B. It had been nice, though, to be held, to pretend for a while. Pretend to be loved, and to love. Cause the guy loved her. She wasn't sure how much, but the big 'L' was definitely there. Faith had felt safe, and warm, and cherished, and it had been enough to make her almost puke. But Superloser who be in for a rough surprise: Buffy still loved Angel. Oh, she hid it well, but they were more linked than anyone could possibly understand, her and B, more than either of them really wanted to be. Faith had been on the block long enough to know what love didn't look like, so she knew the real deal when she saw it. Angel would have known. In a flat second, he would have known it was not Buffy looking up at him with her flashy emerald eyes. It wouldn't have worked. Of course, Faith wouldn't have tried that routine on Angel, since letting Angelus outta the box wasn't that high up on her agenda, although he would have been wicked fun.
Love was love, no matter what. While those two crazy kids would try and make it all work out, Sergeant Dingus would never come first in Buffy's heart like Angel had. No one would, of this Faith had first-hand experience. Buffy had been willing to kill, kill her, for him, then offered herself when she couldn't bag the wonderful goods that was Faith. The dark-haired Slayer couldn't picture her doing that for Riley, not for a second.
People like her, like Buffy, they didn't want normal. Sure, deep down, they might crave aspects of it, but at the end of the day normal guys would take one look at what they are, what they can do, what they had done, and be running for the next zip code so fast you'd think time had gone backwards. They needed different, they needed that hint of darkness, because it was the only way they would ever feel like they were equal with somebody, the only way to spark some feeling in themselves, and the normal ones just didn't make the cut.
But Buffy would keep on trying, though. Keep denying the darkness for as long as she could. Because she didn't want to end up like her, alone, in jail, with nothing but these angry, raging thoughts sweeping through her brain at all hours of the day and night. Buffy wanted to do good, be good, so she was, plain and simple.
If only it were that easy for her.
Faith wished, secretly, deep down in the black pit of her heart, that she could have had more time as Buffy, more time surrounded by the light, by love and happiness. Maybe it could have made all this worth it, maybe it could have given her hope that there was actually a chance she might make it to the other side of this a better person.
She snorted. "Fat chance of that happening,'" she muttered to herself.
What would Buffy do, if she was in a cell, of her own free will, staring at a vacant brick wall like it held all the answers to the universe? She'd likely try to make amends, reach out to people she'd hurt, apologize, volunteer to help orphans or the elderly or whatever and actually learn something from the whole experience.
So maybe, just once, just this one last time, Faith could pretend to be Buffy, if only to see herself through this.
"I'm Buffy," she told herself in her head, like a mantra, like a prayer. "I'm Buffy, and I'm strong, and i can do this."
And, day by day, it worked. Until she didn't need to lie anymore, until she didn't need to pretend to be someone else, until the words in her head, her heart were, "I'm Faith. I'm Faith, and I'm strong, and I'm going to do better. I'm going to get better. I'm going to be better."
And so she did.
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Just a little somethin' I cooked up after watching the Faith Crossover storyline. She's a favourite character of my Buffy partner in crime, so this is kind of for her, although I'm Team Buffy all the way, but that doesn't mean I don't think Faith deserved to find help and come to turns with her actions, because I totally do.
Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, leave a review and let me know!
Have an amazing rest of your week!
All my love, Temperance Cain.