Author: Silentgirl
Title: Gypsy Moth
Spoilers: Season 4 of "Angel"
Disclaimer: The characters of this story do not belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon, UPN/WB, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Distribution: if you want it, take it. Just give me the address.
Summary: While on her way to Sunnydale, Faith begins to come to terms with the past. Vignette.
Notes: I know that this story should probably be in the "Angel" section, but I thought that the story had more to do with "BtVS", so here it is.
**************************************************************
Faith watched the dashed yellow lines speed by the window. Yellow, black, yellow, black. Occasionally switching to solid double lines for a while. She stared up at the endless black wires connecting one telephone pole to another; stretching and dipping between the tall wooden poles. The half rotted carcass of some unidentifiable animal attracted several buzzards circling above, and the sun slowly inched towards the horizon.
Faith hated California, hated the desert, and most of all hated buses. Having spent many long hours of her life on the sticky plastic seats being shipped from one place to another, she had developed a particular hatred for this loud, diesel guzzling means of transportation.
"Thank you Greyhound," Faith mumbled sarcastically as she tilted her head back to gaze up at the metal roof of the bus. Her eyes followed the curved lines spanning the width of the roof, one side to the other and back again. Her mind drifted into the past.
When she had first arrived in California, Faith had been confident, she had felt no fear. I am the Slayer, hear me roar. She reveled in the fight. Want, take, have. Faith had brought death and destruction to the lives of anyone who dared to challenge her, as well as to those who had not. She would take on anyone, no matter what the danger. Now, however, nervous chills ran up and down her spine. She was returning to Sunnydale, returning to face the people she had hurt all those years ago. Just those few years felt like centuries, and somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped that maybe they could forgive her. Maybe they could ignore all the things she had done. God knows Wesley would never fully trust her again no matter how hard she tried, but the others…she hoped, maybe, just maybe. If she had known then, what she knew now, Faith may never have come to California, and may never have brought her destruction with her.
Willow said they needed her, that the others would deal with the past in their own ways, that what was happening now was more important than past grudges. Faith ran a hand through her dark hair, she hoped Willow was right. Whatever this thing was that Buffy and her friends were battling, apparently it was big. Willow had told her that some big evil was trying to wipe out all the Slayers and in the process destroy the world. She had thought about giving up on the Slayer gig and retiring forever. But of course she would always feel that need. The need to fight, to smash, to feel her fist against skin. Faith knew she could never stop the violence within her, it was what made her a Slayer. The sky is blue, pigs can't fly, and Slayers solve problems with their fists. That's just the way it was, it's the way it'll always be. Fighting evil, that was what Faith needed to focus on. Fight the fight and don't worry about the past. Never look back. Willow stirred in the seat across from Faith's.
"Are we there yet," the redhead grumbled sleepily sitting up on the wide, plastic covered seat.
"Almost," Faith replied as she pulled on her denim jacket, one of the very few things she had actually brought with her. She winced as her injuries were stretched when she moved. Willow nodded at her answer and leaned back against the glass of the window. Faith did the same, her eyes returning to the dashed yellow lines on the road. Yellow, black, yellow, black. A beat up sign sped by proclaiming that they were now in Sunnydale. The brunette Slayer took a deep breath to settle her nerves, knowing what she would soon have to face, knowing that eventually her past destruction would once again glare its ugly face in her eyes. Her gaze drifted back up to the thick, sagging telephone wires.
"Home sweet home," the Slayer sighed as the last rays of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
~Fin~
Title: Gypsy Moth
Spoilers: Season 4 of "Angel"
Disclaimer: The characters of this story do not belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon, UPN/WB, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Distribution: if you want it, take it. Just give me the address.
Summary: While on her way to Sunnydale, Faith begins to come to terms with the past. Vignette.
Notes: I know that this story should probably be in the "Angel" section, but I thought that the story had more to do with "BtVS", so here it is.
**************************************************************
Faith watched the dashed yellow lines speed by the window. Yellow, black, yellow, black. Occasionally switching to solid double lines for a while. She stared up at the endless black wires connecting one telephone pole to another; stretching and dipping between the tall wooden poles. The half rotted carcass of some unidentifiable animal attracted several buzzards circling above, and the sun slowly inched towards the horizon.
Faith hated California, hated the desert, and most of all hated buses. Having spent many long hours of her life on the sticky plastic seats being shipped from one place to another, she had developed a particular hatred for this loud, diesel guzzling means of transportation.
"Thank you Greyhound," Faith mumbled sarcastically as she tilted her head back to gaze up at the metal roof of the bus. Her eyes followed the curved lines spanning the width of the roof, one side to the other and back again. Her mind drifted into the past.
When she had first arrived in California, Faith had been confident, she had felt no fear. I am the Slayer, hear me roar. She reveled in the fight. Want, take, have. Faith had brought death and destruction to the lives of anyone who dared to challenge her, as well as to those who had not. She would take on anyone, no matter what the danger. Now, however, nervous chills ran up and down her spine. She was returning to Sunnydale, returning to face the people she had hurt all those years ago. Just those few years felt like centuries, and somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped that maybe they could forgive her. Maybe they could ignore all the things she had done. God knows Wesley would never fully trust her again no matter how hard she tried, but the others…she hoped, maybe, just maybe. If she had known then, what she knew now, Faith may never have come to California, and may never have brought her destruction with her.
Willow said they needed her, that the others would deal with the past in their own ways, that what was happening now was more important than past grudges. Faith ran a hand through her dark hair, she hoped Willow was right. Whatever this thing was that Buffy and her friends were battling, apparently it was big. Willow had told her that some big evil was trying to wipe out all the Slayers and in the process destroy the world. She had thought about giving up on the Slayer gig and retiring forever. But of course she would always feel that need. The need to fight, to smash, to feel her fist against skin. Faith knew she could never stop the violence within her, it was what made her a Slayer. The sky is blue, pigs can't fly, and Slayers solve problems with their fists. That's just the way it was, it's the way it'll always be. Fighting evil, that was what Faith needed to focus on. Fight the fight and don't worry about the past. Never look back. Willow stirred in the seat across from Faith's.
"Are we there yet," the redhead grumbled sleepily sitting up on the wide, plastic covered seat.
"Almost," Faith replied as she pulled on her denim jacket, one of the very few things she had actually brought with her. She winced as her injuries were stretched when she moved. Willow nodded at her answer and leaned back against the glass of the window. Faith did the same, her eyes returning to the dashed yellow lines on the road. Yellow, black, yellow, black. A beat up sign sped by proclaiming that they were now in Sunnydale. The brunette Slayer took a deep breath to settle her nerves, knowing what she would soon have to face, knowing that eventually her past destruction would once again glare its ugly face in her eyes. Her gaze drifted back up to the thick, sagging telephone wires.
"Home sweet home," the Slayer sighed as the last rays of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
~Fin~