Chapter 10 - Call me, Call me
"Call me, call me
Let know you are there
Call me, call me
I wanna know you still care"
Faye Valentine's P.O.V -
"If you had one wish, what would you wish for?"
"A brand new car!"
"A billion dollars!"
"World peace!"
"A big house and a super model husband!"
"Lisa, that's two wishes!"
Laughter echoes through the air. I can remember it… all my friends
from high school, young and energetic. They didn't have a care in the
world. Why should they have? They had their whole lives ahead of
them, and so did I.
"What about you, Faye? What would you wish for?"
I can see myself, surrounded by my classmates. I rubbed my chin,
pretending to be deep in thought as they all looked up at me with
expectant faces. I grinned at them, loving the fact that I had them
hanging in suspense. "I want to fall in love," I told them. "I want to
fall in love with a wonderful man; one who will love me, and trust me,
and always believe in me - so that I'll never be alone."
My friends were in awe. They thought that was the most romantic
thing they had ever heard. Of course, so did I, getting that childish
idea of true love and fairy tale nonsense from books I'd read.
It was just too bad. Wishing for true love is just a waste of time. It's
nothing more than a childhood fantasy; the fantasy of someone who lost
her childhood fantasy long, long ago.
=====
I can't stop thinking of him. Whenever it seems I have a moment to
myself, my thoughts keep drifting back to him. That damned confident
smirk of his, his goofy hair, and his eyes - especially his eyes - always
haunt me. Before I would have just chalked it up to me admiring his
good looks - yes, he's handsome, but I'll be damned if I ever tell him
that. But now, it's much more than that.
One, two, two, one - I pound my fists against the punching bag in front
of me. I remember asking Jet about Spike's martial arts. I think I
remembered seeing a small punching bag in his room and was basically
asking if I could use it. Sadly, Jet was still in this whole denial phase -
would you believe I wasn't aloud to even mention Spike's name or
anything relating to him? - So basically, the answer was no.
One, one, two, two, two, one - granted, I could throw a few kicks and
punches if the situation called for it, but the whole incident with Aeolis
made me feel like I was completely useless unless I had a gun. So,
seeing since I never settle for mediocrity - yeah right - I went out and
got myself a punching bag (confidentially, I stole from a gym owned by
a bounty head running a fake lose-weight-quick-scam. It's not like he
needed it). But anyway, I had Jet set it up in the hangar, which is
where I would if I wanted to blow off some stress.
=====
"Faye-Faye."
One, two, two, one - Don't lose focus, Faye, keeping punching. Don't
let your mind wander to that afro-puffed lunkhead.
"Faye-Faye."
Don't lose focus, don't lose focus, Faye, remember - he's not important
to you at all.
"Faye-Faaayee!!"
"What is it, Ed?" Frustrated, I turn to face her. Unfortunately, I turn a
bit too hard and too fast, not only losing one of my gloves, but I think I
pulled a few of my stitches, too. Damn.
Edward, sitting on the ladder of the Swordfish II, looks up at me
curiously, concern showing in her amber eyes. "Is Faye-Faye okay?"
she asks worriedly. "Edward does not think she should be exercising
so soon."
Before I can speak, another voice picks up. "I agree with Edward." I
cringe slightly, turning to see Spike observing the punching bag.
"Need something?" I ask.
"Not really." He glances at me out of the corner of his eye before
glancing back at the punching bag.
I sigh - so much for relieving my stress. "Suit yourself." I reply, hunting
for my missing glove. "Now where did that thing go-oh!"
I look down at my feet, seeing Ein with the missing glove in his mouth.
I kneel down, glaring at him as I snatch it away. "Give me that." He
stares at me with those puppy dog eyes of his. I sigh again; "All right, all
right," I pat his head gently. "Thanks." Rising to my feet slowly, I glare
up at Spike.
He smiles, holding his hands up in the air. "Don't mind me," he replies.
"I'm not here."
"Riiight…" I slip my glove back on, only to find the damned thing filled
with slobber. Yuck... just what I need. Thanks a lot, Ein. I drop it and
its partner to the ground, resolving myself to finish my workout with my
bare hands.
One, two, one, two - knowing that he's still staring at me keeps me from
getting back into the rhythm of my exercise. Still, always one to
persevere, I do that best I can - at ignoring him that is.
I mean, it's only fair. Ever since the day he kept me company, he's
gone out of his way to be annoying as possible. If he's not just
following me around, plucking on my nerves, he's just sitting there,
preventing me from doing whatever it is I was trying to do. I mean,
what does he want from me?
"What -do- you want from me?" He looks up at me in surprise, having
seen me slam my fist into the punching bag nearly sending it swinging
off its chain.
He smirks slightly. "I didn't say I wanted anything." he replies. "Do I
have to want something to just sit in the hangar?"
I can feel my eyebrow twitching; the ass is trying to get to me. "There
has to be something you want," I reply. "Why else would you be
following me around?"
He has that blank look on his face now, shrugging absently.
"Fine, whatever." I say, giving up. I don't have the patience for this.
Grabbing my towel from a nearby chair, I wipe the sweat out of my
eyes. "Where's Ed?"
"Edward is right here!" I look up, seeing her hanging upside down
from the railing. "Is Faye-Faye in pain still?"
"No, I'm fine, Ed." I reply, feeling Spike's gaze still open me. "Tell me,
did you find anything new on our target?"
"Sorry," Edward frowns slightly. "Edward could find nothing. Old info,
it's not very reliable. No new news is bad news."
"Try seeing if you can pull up anything on Arnold Benedict," I look over
at Spike, who glances back at me out of the corner of his eyes. "See if
he's been up to anything out of the ordinary."
"Roger, dodger!" Ed salutes him, swinging to and fro.
"While your at it," I add. "See if you can cross reference him to a guy
named Aeolis. See if they have anything in common."
"Right-o!" Edward exclaims, climbing back up the railing. "Edward will
get started right away!" With that, she disappears from sight.
"That kid is something else," Spike replies.
"Yeah," I find myself saying. Is it just me, or have I become way more
compliant than I used to be? "She may be the only one of us who hasn't
changed."
"Oh, she's changed all right," Spike replies, sitting down in a nearby chair.
"It's just that it isn't as noticeable as it is with the rest of us."
"I guess." I merely shrug, resuming my exercise. One, two, two, two, one,
two - without the gloves I can feel the full force of each blow as it
connects with the punching bag. The cut on my hand still hurts every
now and then, but since it's covered by the wrappings on my hands, I
ignore it.
"You're trying too hard." I glance over at him; he's still got that damn
smirk on his face.
"Well, forgive me, coach," I snarl, hoping that he'll go away. "I can't do it
right with you staring at me."
He stands up, slowly walking towards me. Before I know it, he's
standing right behind me, his arms around my waist. "See," he says, his
voice incredibly low. He grabs my wrists gently, guiding them towards
the punching bag. "Like this."
"Oh," I'm so stunned, I can barely move. His hands are surprisingly soft,
but it feels like they're burning my skin. With him this close to me, I can
barely function; it's like my arms and legs have turned to jelly.
"Faye, Faye… are you listening?" He takes my chin in his hand, turning
me to face him.
I can only shake my head dumbly. "Sorry," I murmur.
He looks amused. "You're not very good at this, are you?"
Oh, okay, now he's trying to ruffle my feathers. I was doing perfectly
fine before he got here. Just who does this joker think he is? "And just
what would you know?"
"I do know a thing or two about self-defense, Faye." he replies, looking at
me as if that was a stupid question to ask. Jerk. What do I care if he
worships Bruce Lee?
"Who said anything about self-defense?" I snap at him. "This is only a
hobby of mine."
He smirks again. "One that you obviously aren't good at."
That one stung. I can feel my temper rising. I'd show him. I shove
away from him, catching him by surprise. Rather than walk away -
which looking back probably would have been the best course of action,
I turn to face him. "Well then, Mr. Spiegel," I tell him. "If you know so
much, why don't you show me what you've got?"
He stands there for a few moments, staring at me unblinkingly. Finally,
when my challenge sinks into his head, he chuckles lightly, closing his
eyes. "You're joking, right?"
"Spike," I reply evenly. "The last time you thought I was joking, I was
pointing a gun to your head." Well, that certainly wiped the smirk off his
face. The ball's in his court now.
"What's a matter?" I grin mockingly. "Too chicken to fight? Poor Spike
is too afraid to take on lil' ol' me?"
Oh, that got him going. He scowls slightly, tossing his jacket over the
chair. Fortunately, I don't turn into a puddle of goo when his shirt
follows after it. I keep my eyes away from his well-toned stomach and
chiseled biceps adorned with light scars from past battles. I don't want to
lose my focus. A good fight is just what I need to ease my rattled nerves.
"I hope you realize what you're getting yourself into," Spike replies,
loosening his muscles. "I don't have any qualms about hitting girls."
"You needn't worry about that, Spike," I tell him, feigning a pout. "There
aren't any girls here for you to beat up. Just me, the bitch."
He scoffs lightly, putting himself in a fighting stance. As I do the same,
I gage the distance between us. It appears he does the same, trying to
see when I'll make my move - that is, if I make the first move at all.
Well, I guess I shouldn't disappoint him. With quick movements, I lunge
towards him. I make a sucker punch with my left, coming in for the kill
with my right. Unfortunately, he sees it coming, blocking it with his
forearm. He catches my wrist with his free arm, yanking it behind my
back. I let out a soft exclamation.
"I guess this little game of yours is over already, Faye," he says in my ear.
He applies a little more pressure to my arm.
Granted it hurts, but I have the sneaking suspicion he's not being as
harsh as he could be. We'll soon fix that, now won't we? I'm slightly
double-jointed, so I don't have that much trouble turning around,
ramming a fist into his gut. To my satisfaction, he lets out a gasp of
surprise, releasing my wrist.
He backs up a few paces, frowning at me. "Well, if you're gonna play
dirty," he begins.
I smirk up at him. "It's not playing dirty, Spike," I tell him. Adrenaline is
coursing through my veins now; I love it! "It's a move from Faye
Valentine's style of Old School Ass-kicking." I brace myself, preparing for
round two. "You underestimated me, Spike. Never underestimate me."
He cracks his neck - a habit he knows I absolutely hate. "Fair enough," he
replies. "If you want it that way, then the gloves are coming off."
"Oh, Spike," I laugh mockingly. "My gloves came off before we even
began!"
=====
We continue at it for a little while. Spike dodging my hits, dancing
around me like the whole thing is a game to him. Meanwhile, I keep
laying in whatever blows I can, easily slipping out of his grasp. He's
toying with me, I know, and it upsets me a bit to know that if I hadn't
gotten injured, I would have been faring much better.
I took a bullet for this ass hole - so why am I so angry with him?
"Done yet?" he asks, a slight sheen of perspiration showing on his
forehead.
"Not even!" I exclaim. Okay, I'm not thinking clearly now. I can
barely breathe and my sides hurt like bloody hell. Fueled by my anger
alone I take a sharp jab at him. He steps out of the way in time, but
unfortunately, my foot catches underneath his boot. Before I know it, I'm
heading towards the floor.
I close my eyes, bracing for an impact that never comes.
I can feel Spike's arms around my waist now. I never realized how
muscular he actually was until this moment. "You okay, Faye?" Despite
my numerous attempts to claw his eyes out, his voice is gentle, showing
a tinge of concern.
I start to answer, but suddenly, I feel a slight wetness seeping through
my shirt. Apparently, Spike notices it as well, for he touches it gently,
eliciting a hiss of pain from me. He draws his hand up to where we
both can see it.
Blood.
Damnation. I did pull a few stitches after all.
Spike immediately releases his hold on me, pulling me over towards the
chair. "Have a seat, Faye,"
I scowl up at him, tugging away. I won't take orders from you; I'm still
angry with you. He glares back at me. "Quit playing games, Faye."
"Who's playing games?" I snap. "Get your damn hands off me!"
He growls and I suddenly find him up in my face grabbing a fistful of my
shirt. "What the hell is your problem, Faye?" he yells.
"My problem is you up in my face all the time, getting on my damn
nerves and ordering me around!" I yell back. I'm starting to feel a bit
lightheaded; all this yelling really isn't helping. "I don't have to take orders
from you, so leave me the hell alone!"
He looks a bit wounded, but tightens his hold on my shirt. "For God's
sake, Faye," he says quietly. He stops there, as if deciding not to finish
his sentence. He lets out a shaky sigh instead, running a free hand
through his hair.
I blink in surprise, my anger suddenly leaving my body. I certainly
wasn't expecting this. Spike was speaking in a tone I had never heard
him speak to me in, let alone anyone else. Not only that, he was
looking at me with a hurt expression on his face that was slightly
accusing, partly questioning. What did he want from me?
Taking advantage of my silence, he leads me over towards the chair.
Forcing me into a sitting position, he kneels down in front of me, his
gaze never leaving mine. I suddenly feel cornered.
"D-don't," I stammer, trying to break eye contact and failing. "Don't
look at me like that."
"Like what, Faye?" His gaze is now searching, like he's trying to see
something in me that I've been trying to hide. I could probably write
a book about the things I've tried so hard to keep hidden from the word.
The secrets of my heart, my soul - things that if laid open for the world
to snatch up and destroy, I would truly be nothing - I would die, waste
away - I would be empty.
I certainly can't have that; after all, I'm Faye Valentine.
"Don't look at me that way," I say pleadingly. "You were looking at me
that way… on that day… the day you died."
With his hand resting on my arm, I could feel him stiffen slightly. "You
really believed I died, Faye?" he asks me quietly.
"You did die!" I exclaim, sounding a bit hysterical. I close my eyes,
clenching my free arm around my wounded side. This action does not go
unnoticed by him. He reaches towards my arm, but I yank away from
him instinctively.
He stares down at my arm for a moment, before glancing back up at me.
"Do you really hate me that much, Faye?" he asks quietly.
Hate you? Hate you? My God, what has the world come to? "You
ask me if I hate you?" I exclaim. "Spike, you ruined my life!" His eyes
register slight confusion and surprise. "You make it seem like Jet is the
glue that holds us all together, but did you ever stop to consider how long
it would take for us to crumble without you here?"
Spike doesn't reply.
"We waited for you, Spike." I say. "Weeks - 'he'll be back' we kept
telling each other, 'he always comes back'. But you never did.
Eventually we had to give up, we had to go on with our lives." I
tighten my hold around my waist. "It was hard, Spike, it was so hard!"
I curse my voice for breaking slightly. "I tried, I tried so hard to forget
you - to believe that you were dead. I couldn't stand the possibility of
you being alive and well somewhere - living a happy life with Julia-"
His grip loosens slightly. "Julia's dead, Faye."
"I know she is, Spike! I know she is!" Okay, now I was definitely
hysterical. All my fears, my emotions, and anxieties were building up
inside me, threatening to spill over. No matter how hard I tried to shove
them back down, I just couldn't do it. I just don't have the strength
anymore.
"I was strong before I met you, Spike," I exclaim. "Or at least I
pretended to be. You looked down on me, you made fun of me, you
ridiculed me and still I looked up to you - I trusted you, I believed in you!
It didn't matter what you said or did to me, all that mattered to me was
that when you left, I knew for certain that you were gonna come back."
Tears were rimming my eyes now. I couldn't let them fall; I refused to
let them fall. There was no way I would cry in front of Spike.
"You ruined my life!" I go on. "You left us, you just turned your back
on us like you didn't give a damn one way or the other. You left and
you died because I couldn't stop you. You wouldn't listen to me when
I warned you because you didn't give a shit about what I had to say -
nothing I said was ever important to you."
"Faye…" His voice is pleading. He wants me to stop.
I was shaking now; I couldn't see straight. I want to stop, but I can't -
I'm not in control anymore. All I can see are those mismatched brown
eyes. One light brown, one dark brown - both looking right through me.
My soul is open for them to see and there isn't a thing I can do about it.
"And you ask if I hate you?" I force a laugh. "I could never hate you,
Spike, ever." I glare up at him, ignoring the sadness in his eyes, blending
with some other emotion I just can't recognize. "You're the one who
hates me. You've always hated me, 'cuz I'm Faye - the rampaging
beast, the shrew woman, the bi--"
The rest of my sentence is cut off as Spike closes the distance between
us, pressing his lips against my. Shock registers throughout my entire
body as I can feel a fire ignite inside me. Then, before I know it, the
world goes black.
End of Chapter 10
"Call me, call me
Let know you are there
Call me, call me
I wanna know you still care"
Faye Valentine's P.O.V -
"If you had one wish, what would you wish for?"
"A brand new car!"
"A billion dollars!"
"World peace!"
"A big house and a super model husband!"
"Lisa, that's two wishes!"
Laughter echoes through the air. I can remember it… all my friends
from high school, young and energetic. They didn't have a care in the
world. Why should they have? They had their whole lives ahead of
them, and so did I.
"What about you, Faye? What would you wish for?"
I can see myself, surrounded by my classmates. I rubbed my chin,
pretending to be deep in thought as they all looked up at me with
expectant faces. I grinned at them, loving the fact that I had them
hanging in suspense. "I want to fall in love," I told them. "I want to
fall in love with a wonderful man; one who will love me, and trust me,
and always believe in me - so that I'll never be alone."
My friends were in awe. They thought that was the most romantic
thing they had ever heard. Of course, so did I, getting that childish
idea of true love and fairy tale nonsense from books I'd read.
It was just too bad. Wishing for true love is just a waste of time. It's
nothing more than a childhood fantasy; the fantasy of someone who lost
her childhood fantasy long, long ago.
=====
I can't stop thinking of him. Whenever it seems I have a moment to
myself, my thoughts keep drifting back to him. That damned confident
smirk of his, his goofy hair, and his eyes - especially his eyes - always
haunt me. Before I would have just chalked it up to me admiring his
good looks - yes, he's handsome, but I'll be damned if I ever tell him
that. But now, it's much more than that.
One, two, two, one - I pound my fists against the punching bag in front
of me. I remember asking Jet about Spike's martial arts. I think I
remembered seeing a small punching bag in his room and was basically
asking if I could use it. Sadly, Jet was still in this whole denial phase -
would you believe I wasn't aloud to even mention Spike's name or
anything relating to him? - So basically, the answer was no.
One, one, two, two, two, one - granted, I could throw a few kicks and
punches if the situation called for it, but the whole incident with Aeolis
made me feel like I was completely useless unless I had a gun. So,
seeing since I never settle for mediocrity - yeah right - I went out and
got myself a punching bag (confidentially, I stole from a gym owned by
a bounty head running a fake lose-weight-quick-scam. It's not like he
needed it). But anyway, I had Jet set it up in the hangar, which is
where I would if I wanted to blow off some stress.
=====
"Faye-Faye."
One, two, two, one - Don't lose focus, Faye, keeping punching. Don't
let your mind wander to that afro-puffed lunkhead.
"Faye-Faye."
Don't lose focus, don't lose focus, Faye, remember - he's not important
to you at all.
"Faye-Faaayee!!"
"What is it, Ed?" Frustrated, I turn to face her. Unfortunately, I turn a
bit too hard and too fast, not only losing one of my gloves, but I think I
pulled a few of my stitches, too. Damn.
Edward, sitting on the ladder of the Swordfish II, looks up at me
curiously, concern showing in her amber eyes. "Is Faye-Faye okay?"
she asks worriedly. "Edward does not think she should be exercising
so soon."
Before I can speak, another voice picks up. "I agree with Edward." I
cringe slightly, turning to see Spike observing the punching bag.
"Need something?" I ask.
"Not really." He glances at me out of the corner of his eye before
glancing back at the punching bag.
I sigh - so much for relieving my stress. "Suit yourself." I reply, hunting
for my missing glove. "Now where did that thing go-oh!"
I look down at my feet, seeing Ein with the missing glove in his mouth.
I kneel down, glaring at him as I snatch it away. "Give me that." He
stares at me with those puppy dog eyes of his. I sigh again; "All right, all
right," I pat his head gently. "Thanks." Rising to my feet slowly, I glare
up at Spike.
He smiles, holding his hands up in the air. "Don't mind me," he replies.
"I'm not here."
"Riiight…" I slip my glove back on, only to find the damned thing filled
with slobber. Yuck... just what I need. Thanks a lot, Ein. I drop it and
its partner to the ground, resolving myself to finish my workout with my
bare hands.
One, two, one, two - knowing that he's still staring at me keeps me from
getting back into the rhythm of my exercise. Still, always one to
persevere, I do that best I can - at ignoring him that is.
I mean, it's only fair. Ever since the day he kept me company, he's
gone out of his way to be annoying as possible. If he's not just
following me around, plucking on my nerves, he's just sitting there,
preventing me from doing whatever it is I was trying to do. I mean,
what does he want from me?
"What -do- you want from me?" He looks up at me in surprise, having
seen me slam my fist into the punching bag nearly sending it swinging
off its chain.
He smirks slightly. "I didn't say I wanted anything." he replies. "Do I
have to want something to just sit in the hangar?"
I can feel my eyebrow twitching; the ass is trying to get to me. "There
has to be something you want," I reply. "Why else would you be
following me around?"
He has that blank look on his face now, shrugging absently.
"Fine, whatever." I say, giving up. I don't have the patience for this.
Grabbing my towel from a nearby chair, I wipe the sweat out of my
eyes. "Where's Ed?"
"Edward is right here!" I look up, seeing her hanging upside down
from the railing. "Is Faye-Faye in pain still?"
"No, I'm fine, Ed." I reply, feeling Spike's gaze still open me. "Tell me,
did you find anything new on our target?"
"Sorry," Edward frowns slightly. "Edward could find nothing. Old info,
it's not very reliable. No new news is bad news."
"Try seeing if you can pull up anything on Arnold Benedict," I look over
at Spike, who glances back at me out of the corner of his eyes. "See if
he's been up to anything out of the ordinary."
"Roger, dodger!" Ed salutes him, swinging to and fro.
"While your at it," I add. "See if you can cross reference him to a guy
named Aeolis. See if they have anything in common."
"Right-o!" Edward exclaims, climbing back up the railing. "Edward will
get started right away!" With that, she disappears from sight.
"That kid is something else," Spike replies.
"Yeah," I find myself saying. Is it just me, or have I become way more
compliant than I used to be? "She may be the only one of us who hasn't
changed."
"Oh, she's changed all right," Spike replies, sitting down in a nearby chair.
"It's just that it isn't as noticeable as it is with the rest of us."
"I guess." I merely shrug, resuming my exercise. One, two, two, two, one,
two - without the gloves I can feel the full force of each blow as it
connects with the punching bag. The cut on my hand still hurts every
now and then, but since it's covered by the wrappings on my hands, I
ignore it.
"You're trying too hard." I glance over at him; he's still got that damn
smirk on his face.
"Well, forgive me, coach," I snarl, hoping that he'll go away. "I can't do it
right with you staring at me."
He stands up, slowly walking towards me. Before I know it, he's
standing right behind me, his arms around my waist. "See," he says, his
voice incredibly low. He grabs my wrists gently, guiding them towards
the punching bag. "Like this."
"Oh," I'm so stunned, I can barely move. His hands are surprisingly soft,
but it feels like they're burning my skin. With him this close to me, I can
barely function; it's like my arms and legs have turned to jelly.
"Faye, Faye… are you listening?" He takes my chin in his hand, turning
me to face him.
I can only shake my head dumbly. "Sorry," I murmur.
He looks amused. "You're not very good at this, are you?"
Oh, okay, now he's trying to ruffle my feathers. I was doing perfectly
fine before he got here. Just who does this joker think he is? "And just
what would you know?"
"I do know a thing or two about self-defense, Faye." he replies, looking at
me as if that was a stupid question to ask. Jerk. What do I care if he
worships Bruce Lee?
"Who said anything about self-defense?" I snap at him. "This is only a
hobby of mine."
He smirks again. "One that you obviously aren't good at."
That one stung. I can feel my temper rising. I'd show him. I shove
away from him, catching him by surprise. Rather than walk away -
which looking back probably would have been the best course of action,
I turn to face him. "Well then, Mr. Spiegel," I tell him. "If you know so
much, why don't you show me what you've got?"
He stands there for a few moments, staring at me unblinkingly. Finally,
when my challenge sinks into his head, he chuckles lightly, closing his
eyes. "You're joking, right?"
"Spike," I reply evenly. "The last time you thought I was joking, I was
pointing a gun to your head." Well, that certainly wiped the smirk off his
face. The ball's in his court now.
"What's a matter?" I grin mockingly. "Too chicken to fight? Poor Spike
is too afraid to take on lil' ol' me?"
Oh, that got him going. He scowls slightly, tossing his jacket over the
chair. Fortunately, I don't turn into a puddle of goo when his shirt
follows after it. I keep my eyes away from his well-toned stomach and
chiseled biceps adorned with light scars from past battles. I don't want to
lose my focus. A good fight is just what I need to ease my rattled nerves.
"I hope you realize what you're getting yourself into," Spike replies,
loosening his muscles. "I don't have any qualms about hitting girls."
"You needn't worry about that, Spike," I tell him, feigning a pout. "There
aren't any girls here for you to beat up. Just me, the bitch."
He scoffs lightly, putting himself in a fighting stance. As I do the same,
I gage the distance between us. It appears he does the same, trying to
see when I'll make my move - that is, if I make the first move at all.
Well, I guess I shouldn't disappoint him. With quick movements, I lunge
towards him. I make a sucker punch with my left, coming in for the kill
with my right. Unfortunately, he sees it coming, blocking it with his
forearm. He catches my wrist with his free arm, yanking it behind my
back. I let out a soft exclamation.
"I guess this little game of yours is over already, Faye," he says in my ear.
He applies a little more pressure to my arm.
Granted it hurts, but I have the sneaking suspicion he's not being as
harsh as he could be. We'll soon fix that, now won't we? I'm slightly
double-jointed, so I don't have that much trouble turning around,
ramming a fist into his gut. To my satisfaction, he lets out a gasp of
surprise, releasing my wrist.
He backs up a few paces, frowning at me. "Well, if you're gonna play
dirty," he begins.
I smirk up at him. "It's not playing dirty, Spike," I tell him. Adrenaline is
coursing through my veins now; I love it! "It's a move from Faye
Valentine's style of Old School Ass-kicking." I brace myself, preparing for
round two. "You underestimated me, Spike. Never underestimate me."
He cracks his neck - a habit he knows I absolutely hate. "Fair enough," he
replies. "If you want it that way, then the gloves are coming off."
"Oh, Spike," I laugh mockingly. "My gloves came off before we even
began!"
=====
We continue at it for a little while. Spike dodging my hits, dancing
around me like the whole thing is a game to him. Meanwhile, I keep
laying in whatever blows I can, easily slipping out of his grasp. He's
toying with me, I know, and it upsets me a bit to know that if I hadn't
gotten injured, I would have been faring much better.
I took a bullet for this ass hole - so why am I so angry with him?
"Done yet?" he asks, a slight sheen of perspiration showing on his
forehead.
"Not even!" I exclaim. Okay, I'm not thinking clearly now. I can
barely breathe and my sides hurt like bloody hell. Fueled by my anger
alone I take a sharp jab at him. He steps out of the way in time, but
unfortunately, my foot catches underneath his boot. Before I know it, I'm
heading towards the floor.
I close my eyes, bracing for an impact that never comes.
I can feel Spike's arms around my waist now. I never realized how
muscular he actually was until this moment. "You okay, Faye?" Despite
my numerous attempts to claw his eyes out, his voice is gentle, showing
a tinge of concern.
I start to answer, but suddenly, I feel a slight wetness seeping through
my shirt. Apparently, Spike notices it as well, for he touches it gently,
eliciting a hiss of pain from me. He draws his hand up to where we
both can see it.
Blood.
Damnation. I did pull a few stitches after all.
Spike immediately releases his hold on me, pulling me over towards the
chair. "Have a seat, Faye,"
I scowl up at him, tugging away. I won't take orders from you; I'm still
angry with you. He glares back at me. "Quit playing games, Faye."
"Who's playing games?" I snap. "Get your damn hands off me!"
He growls and I suddenly find him up in my face grabbing a fistful of my
shirt. "What the hell is your problem, Faye?" he yells.
"My problem is you up in my face all the time, getting on my damn
nerves and ordering me around!" I yell back. I'm starting to feel a bit
lightheaded; all this yelling really isn't helping. "I don't have to take orders
from you, so leave me the hell alone!"
He looks a bit wounded, but tightens his hold on my shirt. "For God's
sake, Faye," he says quietly. He stops there, as if deciding not to finish
his sentence. He lets out a shaky sigh instead, running a free hand
through his hair.
I blink in surprise, my anger suddenly leaving my body. I certainly
wasn't expecting this. Spike was speaking in a tone I had never heard
him speak to me in, let alone anyone else. Not only that, he was
looking at me with a hurt expression on his face that was slightly
accusing, partly questioning. What did he want from me?
Taking advantage of my silence, he leads me over towards the chair.
Forcing me into a sitting position, he kneels down in front of me, his
gaze never leaving mine. I suddenly feel cornered.
"D-don't," I stammer, trying to break eye contact and failing. "Don't
look at me like that."
"Like what, Faye?" His gaze is now searching, like he's trying to see
something in me that I've been trying to hide. I could probably write
a book about the things I've tried so hard to keep hidden from the word.
The secrets of my heart, my soul - things that if laid open for the world
to snatch up and destroy, I would truly be nothing - I would die, waste
away - I would be empty.
I certainly can't have that; after all, I'm Faye Valentine.
"Don't look at me that way," I say pleadingly. "You were looking at me
that way… on that day… the day you died."
With his hand resting on my arm, I could feel him stiffen slightly. "You
really believed I died, Faye?" he asks me quietly.
"You did die!" I exclaim, sounding a bit hysterical. I close my eyes,
clenching my free arm around my wounded side. This action does not go
unnoticed by him. He reaches towards my arm, but I yank away from
him instinctively.
He stares down at my arm for a moment, before glancing back up at me.
"Do you really hate me that much, Faye?" he asks quietly.
Hate you? Hate you? My God, what has the world come to? "You
ask me if I hate you?" I exclaim. "Spike, you ruined my life!" His eyes
register slight confusion and surprise. "You make it seem like Jet is the
glue that holds us all together, but did you ever stop to consider how long
it would take for us to crumble without you here?"
Spike doesn't reply.
"We waited for you, Spike." I say. "Weeks - 'he'll be back' we kept
telling each other, 'he always comes back'. But you never did.
Eventually we had to give up, we had to go on with our lives." I
tighten my hold around my waist. "It was hard, Spike, it was so hard!"
I curse my voice for breaking slightly. "I tried, I tried so hard to forget
you - to believe that you were dead. I couldn't stand the possibility of
you being alive and well somewhere - living a happy life with Julia-"
His grip loosens slightly. "Julia's dead, Faye."
"I know she is, Spike! I know she is!" Okay, now I was definitely
hysterical. All my fears, my emotions, and anxieties were building up
inside me, threatening to spill over. No matter how hard I tried to shove
them back down, I just couldn't do it. I just don't have the strength
anymore.
"I was strong before I met you, Spike," I exclaim. "Or at least I
pretended to be. You looked down on me, you made fun of me, you
ridiculed me and still I looked up to you - I trusted you, I believed in you!
It didn't matter what you said or did to me, all that mattered to me was
that when you left, I knew for certain that you were gonna come back."
Tears were rimming my eyes now. I couldn't let them fall; I refused to
let them fall. There was no way I would cry in front of Spike.
"You ruined my life!" I go on. "You left us, you just turned your back
on us like you didn't give a damn one way or the other. You left and
you died because I couldn't stop you. You wouldn't listen to me when
I warned you because you didn't give a shit about what I had to say -
nothing I said was ever important to you."
"Faye…" His voice is pleading. He wants me to stop.
I was shaking now; I couldn't see straight. I want to stop, but I can't -
I'm not in control anymore. All I can see are those mismatched brown
eyes. One light brown, one dark brown - both looking right through me.
My soul is open for them to see and there isn't a thing I can do about it.
"And you ask if I hate you?" I force a laugh. "I could never hate you,
Spike, ever." I glare up at him, ignoring the sadness in his eyes, blending
with some other emotion I just can't recognize. "You're the one who
hates me. You've always hated me, 'cuz I'm Faye - the rampaging
beast, the shrew woman, the bi--"
The rest of my sentence is cut off as Spike closes the distance between
us, pressing his lips against my. Shock registers throughout my entire
body as I can feel a fire ignite inside me. Then, before I know it, the
world goes black.
End of Chapter 10