"So, Faithy, what did your little friend want?"
"Just to rant about what a superior, god-like being she is.. you know, the usual."
"Now, Faith, you know better than to believe her. You're better than her, not the other way around. Why aren't you eating your cookies?"
I didn't look at him, sometimes he can be so damn optimistic. Maybe he didn't notice when I killed someone and turned evil. I'll have to ask him about that someday. But, I picked up a cookie and ate it. He's the closest thing to a father I got, and I want him to be happy.
the next day...
I'm out patrolling, having a blast gettin' all worked up, when B shows up. She looks real off, like her boyfriend just turned and tried ta kill her or something. Wait, that was last year.
"What's with the look, B?"
"I came to apologize."
"Not accepted. Now get the hell away from me."
"I understand that-"
"You just don't get it, do you? You don't understand anything about me. Stop trying."
"You should be mad." Bitch. Of course I should be mad. I don't need you to give me your permission.
I punch her. I just couldn't take her anymore. She was talking down to me like I was some kinda two-year-old. "Yeah, I should, huh?'
She doesn't fight back. "I deserved that."
"No shit."
"But I still wanna talk to you." Does she ever give up? I just walk away from her, not even bothering to argue with her. She runs to catch up with me. Damn it. "What I said was wrong." Has she heard of a thesauras? 'Wrong' is how she describes everything that's not 100% suburban rightness. Ya know what colour black and white make? It's called grey, B. You should really look into 'Grey for Dummies' or somethin'. "I shouldn't have said it, and I wanna take it back."
"That's nice, B. I want a puppy."
"Faith, I'm serious. I'm trying to make it right here, and you're just being, ergh! Let's start over. I wanna patrol. With you."
"I wanna patrol. Without you."
"Faith, please. Let me patrol with you." I just ignore her and keep walking. "Faith?"
"Look, just shut up, and I'll let you. Okay?" God. There aren't gonna be any vamps if she doesn't shut the hell up.
"Okay." We walk, silently, for a few minutes. B breaks the silence. "About what I said.."
"Forget it." I don't wanna talk about that. I shouldn'ta said what I said, but somebody needed to knock her off her self-made pedestal.
"No. I shouldn't of said what I did."
"Well, the death threats kinda threw everyone off."
"Faith, I- I wouldn't kill you. You know that, right?"
"You're not the killing type."
"I'm the Slayer."
"Of bad, evil things. Not people." Because we all know people are always 'of the good'. That's why she doesn't like me- I don't fit into her theory of 'people=good, ugly scaly/slimy demon=bad.' She'll be so lost when she gets outta school.
"Right. But I kill every night." She sounds kinda worried. Aww, poor B.
"I know you wouldn't off me."
"Good. As long as you know that." We walk for a few more minutes, and she once again breaks the silence. "Me and Angel are going to a movie tomorrow. You wanna come with?"
"Not really."
"Oh. Patrol after?"
"Nothing better. Then maybe we can Bronze it." If I can get B to the Bronze, anywhere she's not such a stuck-up bitch, she can actually be fun.
"Maybe," she answers, vaguely. Then she starts going on and on about her and Angel and all the tension between 'em. By now she musta scared off all the vamps in town; any nearby would hear her coming and leave, so I let my mind wonder.
When I was little, my mom used to leave me alone, at home. I'd go in her room, try on her clothes, look at myself in the cracked mirror in our bathroom. Once she came home early, sober and unhappy, and found me, her clothes dragging on my short, childhood body. She beat me so hard I had bruises for weeks. That was a good night. Most nights she'd come home in the mornings, right before I left to catch the school bus, or not at all. I'd have to get myself up, get dressed, and go to school. The worst was when she'd come home drunk. She'd vomit everywhere, and make me clean it up, or tell me what she had been doing at night. Mom's why I would never let anyone pimp for me. I saw what she got letting some trash boss her around, and I won't let anyone do that to me.
I'm jerked out of my thoughts by Buffy shaking my shoulder. "Hey! Were you listening?" she asks.
"No."
"Well. Pay attention this time. Last week, me and Angel-"
"Look, B, I, uh, wanna go. I'll see you tomorrow." I walk off, ignoring her protests. For once she doesn't chase after me.
"Just to rant about what a superior, god-like being she is.. you know, the usual."
"Now, Faith, you know better than to believe her. You're better than her, not the other way around. Why aren't you eating your cookies?"
I didn't look at him, sometimes he can be so damn optimistic. Maybe he didn't notice when I killed someone and turned evil. I'll have to ask him about that someday. But, I picked up a cookie and ate it. He's the closest thing to a father I got, and I want him to be happy.
the next day...
I'm out patrolling, having a blast gettin' all worked up, when B shows up. She looks real off, like her boyfriend just turned and tried ta kill her or something. Wait, that was last year.
"What's with the look, B?"
"I came to apologize."
"Not accepted. Now get the hell away from me."
"I understand that-"
"You just don't get it, do you? You don't understand anything about me. Stop trying."
"You should be mad." Bitch. Of course I should be mad. I don't need you to give me your permission.
I punch her. I just couldn't take her anymore. She was talking down to me like I was some kinda two-year-old. "Yeah, I should, huh?'
She doesn't fight back. "I deserved that."
"No shit."
"But I still wanna talk to you." Does she ever give up? I just walk away from her, not even bothering to argue with her. She runs to catch up with me. Damn it. "What I said was wrong." Has she heard of a thesauras? 'Wrong' is how she describes everything that's not 100% suburban rightness. Ya know what colour black and white make? It's called grey, B. You should really look into 'Grey for Dummies' or somethin'. "I shouldn't have said it, and I wanna take it back."
"That's nice, B. I want a puppy."
"Faith, I'm serious. I'm trying to make it right here, and you're just being, ergh! Let's start over. I wanna patrol. With you."
"I wanna patrol. Without you."
"Faith, please. Let me patrol with you." I just ignore her and keep walking. "Faith?"
"Look, just shut up, and I'll let you. Okay?" God. There aren't gonna be any vamps if she doesn't shut the hell up.
"Okay." We walk, silently, for a few minutes. B breaks the silence. "About what I said.."
"Forget it." I don't wanna talk about that. I shouldn'ta said what I said, but somebody needed to knock her off her self-made pedestal.
"No. I shouldn't of said what I did."
"Well, the death threats kinda threw everyone off."
"Faith, I- I wouldn't kill you. You know that, right?"
"You're not the killing type."
"I'm the Slayer."
"Of bad, evil things. Not people." Because we all know people are always 'of the good'. That's why she doesn't like me- I don't fit into her theory of 'people=good, ugly scaly/slimy demon=bad.' She'll be so lost when she gets outta school.
"Right. But I kill every night." She sounds kinda worried. Aww, poor B.
"I know you wouldn't off me."
"Good. As long as you know that." We walk for a few more minutes, and she once again breaks the silence. "Me and Angel are going to a movie tomorrow. You wanna come with?"
"Not really."
"Oh. Patrol after?"
"Nothing better. Then maybe we can Bronze it." If I can get B to the Bronze, anywhere she's not such a stuck-up bitch, she can actually be fun.
"Maybe," she answers, vaguely. Then she starts going on and on about her and Angel and all the tension between 'em. By now she musta scared off all the vamps in town; any nearby would hear her coming and leave, so I let my mind wonder.
When I was little, my mom used to leave me alone, at home. I'd go in her room, try on her clothes, look at myself in the cracked mirror in our bathroom. Once she came home early, sober and unhappy, and found me, her clothes dragging on my short, childhood body. She beat me so hard I had bruises for weeks. That was a good night. Most nights she'd come home in the mornings, right before I left to catch the school bus, or not at all. I'd have to get myself up, get dressed, and go to school. The worst was when she'd come home drunk. She'd vomit everywhere, and make me clean it up, or tell me what she had been doing at night. Mom's why I would never let anyone pimp for me. I saw what she got letting some trash boss her around, and I won't let anyone do that to me.
I'm jerked out of my thoughts by Buffy shaking my shoulder. "Hey! Were you listening?" she asks.
"No."
"Well. Pay attention this time. Last week, me and Angel-"
"Look, B, I, uh, wanna go. I'll see you tomorrow." I walk off, ignoring her protests. For once she doesn't chase after me.