A/N: I'm so *physced*! Thankyouthankyouthankyou you wonderful, gorgeous
people! Okay, I am at the *END* of mocks, so I can party, until the results
come in. Whoops.
Anyway, this chapter is written for all those people who don't like subtlety in my plots. I normally don't deal with it, and it seems it's all too much for you people! Lol. Anyway, this explains the references to the 'vent' where Faith tries to break Buffy and Angel up. Seeing as there are *very* subtle bits of "Btvs" in here, I'm pointing out that this is (loosely can't be said enough) on that eppie where Faith tries to take Angel's soul. So in practicality, all those of you who don't want an explanation, and wish to skip the hitting hard with a sledgehammer of info, skip the chappie. But it *is* good..Lol.
Also, to answer questions, Gunn is in Faith's year. Buffy is in the final year of high school, and Faith is the year below. Spike, Angel, Lindsay, Xander, Willow, Anya, Cordelia and Doyle are all in Buffy's year. Lilah, Faith, Kendra and Gunn are in Faith's year.
I want to say a massive thank you to all you reviewers! You're keeping this story going, and I love you people!
This goes in particular to Anna Queen, who was absolutely fabulous with the praise and stuff. And I should not be saying it, but I like it.
*******Chapter three*******
"Mom! I'm home!" Faith hollered at the bottom of the stairs, as Dawn came out of the kitchen.
"Shouldn't you be at Dad's?" Faith asked. Dawn crammed the rest of the Oreo cookie into her mouth, and shook her head. She swallowed, then added,
"Nope. He and little Miss Blonde-with-big-boobs are going away for the week. I stay here. I think they're going to play sex games, or something." She shrugged, and walked over to the couch, plopped down on it, and began flicking through the channels.
"Please repeat what you just said. I did *not* hear my little sister talking about *Sex games*!" Faith said slowly and loudly. Dawn looked up.
"Yeah, you did. Faith, I'm 13. When you were 15, you wanted to sleep with Angel," she said nonchalantly, turning back to the TV.
"What?!" Faith shrieked. Dawn looked back, and did a scarily good imitation of the eldest Summers sister.
"Come *on* Faith. Like it wasn't obvious. Whenever he came over here, you were practically in his lap. And when you tried to break them up? It didn't work." She flicked to cartoons, and settled into mind-numbing drivel.
Faith stalked out of the room, raced upstairs, and flopped over her bed. Was it really obvious? She sighed, and picked up a battered folder, that she'd kept general studies notes in last year. In a picture on the front, Faith stood amongst a row of girls, all clad in yellow skimpy long sleeved tees, smiling broadly. Faith's tumbled hair was silky straight, and tied back with an Alice band, and she wore the minimal make up favoured by Buffy. Soft pink lip-gloss and her eyes were shining. She looked exactly like her sister, only a brunette. She had an arm around each girl either side of her, one her best friend on the squad, Harmony Kendall, and the other around her older sister, the captain. Buffy smiled into the camera, her hazel eyes warm, and proud, her shoulder length blond hair curled artfully.
Faith tossed the folder across the room in disgust. She had been so happy, to fit in, and be popular. Her sister's friends let her hang out with them, which guaranteed instant popularity. Guys who had ignored her as obnoxious lost little Faith were hovering around her. But because of Buffy.
And Buffy had what Faith wanted most of all. Angel. Even back then he was star player on the football team, the cutest guy in her sister's year, with chocolate brown eyes that swept you up, and a secret little half smile that seemed just between you and him.
She'd adored him. Only a year older, she used to dream he'd see through her bitchy sister, and ask *her* out. But he never did. Until, that year, when Buffy gave her a place on the squad, Faith had never really tried to stand out. Now she was as sweet, innocent looking, and pretty as her sister and she tried her best to steal him away. Even when she'd broken her arm, trying out that stupid move, she'd hung around with them. One of a very large crowd.
It was the junior spring fling. Buffy and her friends had been planning their dresses, and the event itself for ages. They'd decorated the gym with flowers, and banners, and little candles were put everywhere. Faith, who had to walk home with Buffy, and Dawn who was 11, did her homework in the gym while Buffy flitted around, laughing with her friends.
A couple of nights before the dance, Buffy went out to a friend's, to discuss dresses, and final dance plans. Angel dropped by the Summers' to hang out with Buffy. Faith had been watching TV alone, Dawn was staying in L.A with their dad. When Angel had asked where Buffy was, she'd shrugged.
"At a friend's. I think she'll be back soon, "she'd said, and he'd squirmed, awkwardly on the front step where she'd left him.
"Can I..come in?" He'd asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, and rocking on his heels.
"Sure. Join me in crappy TV!" she'd laughed nervously, as he gave her a warm smile, and shook off his coat.
They'd been watching an old movie for an hour, when she'd yawned, and stretched out, deliberately testing the ground. Angel had stayed in the same pot, and when she looked tired, proffered the blanket behind them that Mom kept there. Hearing Buffy's steps on the path outside, she'd swallowed her fear, and reached up to kiss him.
As Buffy had walked through the door, she'd seen them. Angel and Faith apparently making out, watching old movies. She'd gasped, and walked straight back out the door, and stayed at her friend's.
Meanwhile, Angel pushed Faith abruptly away from himself, and stood up, raking his hands through his hair.
"Why Faith? Why?" he'd asked her, his face twisted with worry, and confusion. She'd been on the verge of tears.
"I like you. And Buffy isn't who everyone thinks she is!" she'd protested in vain, but Angel had stalked out of the room angrily, grabbing his coat, and going home.
At school, the next few days were awful. Buffy's friends ignored her, and she'd neglected her own when she'd been on the squad. Buffy, angry, and hurt by her boyfriend and her sister, had been asked to the dance by a guy called Parker, and accepted, and was consequently seen making out with him on school campus, a move designed to hurt Angel.
Angel had stopped by the house that afternoon, when it became common knowledge at school that he and Buffy were 'so over', and that 'you know that Summers girl? She and Parker Abrams are going together to the dance!' Dawn had answered the door, and called Faith down from her room, where she was immersed in lyrics, and geometry.
"You heard.at school?" he asked bluntly. She nodded. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?" It wasn't so much of a question, as a command. She'd nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. "Fine. Pick you up. Eight thirty." He'd gone his face still stony.
Kendra wasn't around yet. It had been Faith solo at the dress shops, looking for a dress to the dance she 'hadn't wanted to go to'. She'd found it, a tiny shop, not many people coming by, not much choice, but she'd found something. It was a deep wine colour but dark. It was thin silk, hanging from simple shoulder straps, and clinging to her body, flowing around her fluidly. It complimented her dark hair, and she had been sure of one thing. Buffy would never have worn anything like it.
The day of the dance, everywhere she'd gone in school, everyone was talking about it. She hadn't seen Buffy that morning, and when she had seen her in school, she'd timidly tried to make eye contact. Buffy had looked resolutely ahead, her hair poker straight down her back, her jaw set, and her hazel eyes glittering.
That evening, she'd dressed quickly, tousling her hair into soft waves. She had used a deep crimson that matched her dress for her lips, satisfied that Buffy would not look anything like it.
She'd waited in the living room, walking backwards and forwards over the carpet, rubbing at her hands, and fiddling with an earring. The doorbell had gone, and she'd opened the door, smiling in anticipation, but the cute guy standing in the doorway was Parker, Buffy's date.
Buffy had swept down the stairs, smiling sweetly, her pale lavender dress swirling around her, her long blond hair in soft curls. When she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Parker had kissed her cheek, and proffered a white rosebud as a corsage. She'd smiled, taken his arm, and sailed past Faith, and out into the street, ignoring her sister.
Half an hour later, Angel turned up, five minutes late, and scowling. As she'd answered the door, he'd taken her hand, and steered her outside.
At the dance, they'd had the misfortune to pass Buffy with Parker. Angel's scowl had deepened, and he'd pulled Faith onto the dancefloor, as the slow song Buffy had been dancing to dreamily ended. They left the floor, and abruptly, Angel had stopped dancing, and searched out his team buddies, and their dates.
During the night, Angel had danced with Faith a couple of times, and then, he led her onto the floor, next to Buffy and Parker. As the slow, sad song progressed, he'd leant down, and kissed her. Still reeling from it, Faith had looked up, and dazedly clapped the organizers as they came on stage to announce the Spring Prince and Princess.
As they made hype about the vote count, and who had been nominees, Faith had stood on the floor, numb with shock. Everyone had voted a week or two ago, and back then, class couple had been her sister, and Angel. And if it weren't for her, they would still be.
As Harmony onstage, in a pale pink number, declared that "It was a very close..thing," Buffy and Parker were standing nearby, their attention focused on the acolyte of Buffy's.
"And I am *totally* proud to announce, this year's Spring Fling prince, and princess, are..Buffy Summers, and Angel O'Connnor!"
Her sister had simply smiled, and lifted the skirt of her dress to climb the stairs, as Angel moved from her side, creating a draft. She'd watched, as if in slow motion, as they had been crowned, and then the music started up. Angel had led Buffy onto the floor, and standing off the dance floor, watching Parker dance with one of Buffy's friends, she had seen their mouths move, and knew she had lost.
Tears had streamed down her face, and she'd slumped into a chair, her hands angrily wrecking the soft waves she'd created in her air, a la Buffy. A gentle hand had been placed on her shoulder.
"There enough misery here for two, ya think?" Gunn had asked, sitting down beside her. In response, she'd cried harder.
"Yeah, it's tough. But those two are solid. I know you had a crush on the guy forever, but face it. He took you to make your sister sit up and take notice. Those two will stick together. Gross, ain't it?" he asked, sliding an arm around her, and hugging her.
"I ignored you. I'm sorry! She'd howled through the tears and he'd laughed.
"What are friends for?" he'd replied simply, and helped her up, and walked her out of the gym.
Faith crashed back into the present. The entire school had treated her like some kind of leper after that, not least because she'd developed a style as far away from Buffy's as possible, most of it involving leather. She'd done wild and crazy stuff, explored all things recreational, and tossed aside cares of school, or home. Buffy was Mom's princess and always reported with concern back to her mother when Faith did something particularly outrageous. The start of this year, however, was supposed to be a new start for her.
She rolled over on her bed, and propped her head up in her hands. Spike. That was the guy's name, right? This singing thing. She hadn't sung for years, since her voice was the treble to Buffy's soprano. Nowadays she was down in the alto section, and when her teens had hit in, she'd been kicked from the choir, for not being able to hit the high notes.
Not that it had stopped her. Faith reached a hand under her bed, to fish up a grubby shoebox. She and Buffy had started these way back in elementary school. Mom had bought them each a pair of shoes, and then they had spent the afternoon making them into keepsake boxes. Carefully, they'd glued wallpaper, and glitter, and stars onto the outside, and then stuck a different kind of wallpaper to the inside. Mom had hugged them both, and kissed them.
"Now you'll always have a place to put your treasures," she'd said, holding them tight. Faith remembered filling hers up with stones she'd found, or bits and bobs she'd found. Buffy had solemnly put her old dolls in hers, and her Power-girl mask. And then came the ballet stage, where an old pair of pink satin ballet shoes joined the jumble. And finally, skating.
Faith's own box had been empty of much other than dust, for ages. When Dawn turned seven, Buffy had made a box with *her* as well. Faith knew that was where Dawn kept her old journals. Faith had had nothing in there for so long, Dawn once asked for it as a coffin for a dead gerbil, or something. Mom had defended Faith's box, as if it was important or something. At that point, she was seriously into the recreational fun on offer among the older people of her year.
And now, it was filled with songs. Over time, and years, she had filled it to the brim with paper. Yellow legal pads, lavender and pink stationary stolen from Buffy, even diary pages from Dawn. But primarily notebook paper. Lyrics had built up, from when she was mad at the world, or totally miserable, or, she thought, trawling through, and pulling up a tissue and reading the almost illegible scrawl, high on something.
Her box full of treasures was her version of a diary. The day she had asked for guitar lessons, she was frustrated with so many songs, and no music to play it to. Her Mom had been delighted. From around the time Buffy had got so popular, and she'd been dropped from various people and activities, she'd got in with the bad ass crowd. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, she acknowledged. A serious reaction to the divorce her parents had decided on, she'd gotten arrested in a club, at 15. And she hadn't changed much in Sunnydale. Her first year here had been her last in Junior High, and Mom had forced Buffy to 'help Faith find a place, sweetheart'. Mom had looked on guitar as a nice, *safe* activity. Yeah, a nice, *safe* way to extricate the angst, and pain.
She closed the lid back on the box, and stowed it back under the bed, still thinking.
A bang on the door crossed into her reverie, and she looked up, startled. Dawn swung the door forward.
"Buffy's home," she said simply. Faith groaned.
"Fine. What does she want?" she asked.
"Did any of my friends call for me?" Dawn affected a nasal tone.
"Tell her no, the insane asylum did though, and they say her parole is up," Faith snapped moodily. Dawn snorted, and headed down the stairs.
"Faith!" Jeez, could Buffy *get* more venom in her voice than that. Sighing, Faith rolled off her bed, and prepared for life dealing with her sister's avid social schedule.
Again with the it's not the subtlest chapter in the world, but I got two reviews of eleven asking about it, and that's almost a fifth of my readers, or SO IT SEEMS!!!! (cough) So I did the cartoonesque, sledgehammer thing. Sue me. On second thoughts, maybe not..still a student, no money, poor allowance, not much work,yadayada.you catch my drift. All I have is my wonderful imagination.. I should go. Now. Before I sound any more like the Waltons.(goes offstage, then loud shout heard, "Muse! Where the hell are you? You're suppose to HELP, not make me say stuff like that!" Crashing noise is heard)
Anyway, this chapter is written for all those people who don't like subtlety in my plots. I normally don't deal with it, and it seems it's all too much for you people! Lol. Anyway, this explains the references to the 'vent' where Faith tries to break Buffy and Angel up. Seeing as there are *very* subtle bits of "Btvs" in here, I'm pointing out that this is (loosely can't be said enough) on that eppie where Faith tries to take Angel's soul. So in practicality, all those of you who don't want an explanation, and wish to skip the hitting hard with a sledgehammer of info, skip the chappie. But it *is* good..Lol.
Also, to answer questions, Gunn is in Faith's year. Buffy is in the final year of high school, and Faith is the year below. Spike, Angel, Lindsay, Xander, Willow, Anya, Cordelia and Doyle are all in Buffy's year. Lilah, Faith, Kendra and Gunn are in Faith's year.
I want to say a massive thank you to all you reviewers! You're keeping this story going, and I love you people!
This goes in particular to Anna Queen, who was absolutely fabulous with the praise and stuff. And I should not be saying it, but I like it.
*******Chapter three*******
"Mom! I'm home!" Faith hollered at the bottom of the stairs, as Dawn came out of the kitchen.
"Shouldn't you be at Dad's?" Faith asked. Dawn crammed the rest of the Oreo cookie into her mouth, and shook her head. She swallowed, then added,
"Nope. He and little Miss Blonde-with-big-boobs are going away for the week. I stay here. I think they're going to play sex games, or something." She shrugged, and walked over to the couch, plopped down on it, and began flicking through the channels.
"Please repeat what you just said. I did *not* hear my little sister talking about *Sex games*!" Faith said slowly and loudly. Dawn looked up.
"Yeah, you did. Faith, I'm 13. When you were 15, you wanted to sleep with Angel," she said nonchalantly, turning back to the TV.
"What?!" Faith shrieked. Dawn looked back, and did a scarily good imitation of the eldest Summers sister.
"Come *on* Faith. Like it wasn't obvious. Whenever he came over here, you were practically in his lap. And when you tried to break them up? It didn't work." She flicked to cartoons, and settled into mind-numbing drivel.
Faith stalked out of the room, raced upstairs, and flopped over her bed. Was it really obvious? She sighed, and picked up a battered folder, that she'd kept general studies notes in last year. In a picture on the front, Faith stood amongst a row of girls, all clad in yellow skimpy long sleeved tees, smiling broadly. Faith's tumbled hair was silky straight, and tied back with an Alice band, and she wore the minimal make up favoured by Buffy. Soft pink lip-gloss and her eyes were shining. She looked exactly like her sister, only a brunette. She had an arm around each girl either side of her, one her best friend on the squad, Harmony Kendall, and the other around her older sister, the captain. Buffy smiled into the camera, her hazel eyes warm, and proud, her shoulder length blond hair curled artfully.
Faith tossed the folder across the room in disgust. She had been so happy, to fit in, and be popular. Her sister's friends let her hang out with them, which guaranteed instant popularity. Guys who had ignored her as obnoxious lost little Faith were hovering around her. But because of Buffy.
And Buffy had what Faith wanted most of all. Angel. Even back then he was star player on the football team, the cutest guy in her sister's year, with chocolate brown eyes that swept you up, and a secret little half smile that seemed just between you and him.
She'd adored him. Only a year older, she used to dream he'd see through her bitchy sister, and ask *her* out. But he never did. Until, that year, when Buffy gave her a place on the squad, Faith had never really tried to stand out. Now she was as sweet, innocent looking, and pretty as her sister and she tried her best to steal him away. Even when she'd broken her arm, trying out that stupid move, she'd hung around with them. One of a very large crowd.
It was the junior spring fling. Buffy and her friends had been planning their dresses, and the event itself for ages. They'd decorated the gym with flowers, and banners, and little candles were put everywhere. Faith, who had to walk home with Buffy, and Dawn who was 11, did her homework in the gym while Buffy flitted around, laughing with her friends.
A couple of nights before the dance, Buffy went out to a friend's, to discuss dresses, and final dance plans. Angel dropped by the Summers' to hang out with Buffy. Faith had been watching TV alone, Dawn was staying in L.A with their dad. When Angel had asked where Buffy was, she'd shrugged.
"At a friend's. I think she'll be back soon, "she'd said, and he'd squirmed, awkwardly on the front step where she'd left him.
"Can I..come in?" He'd asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, and rocking on his heels.
"Sure. Join me in crappy TV!" she'd laughed nervously, as he gave her a warm smile, and shook off his coat.
They'd been watching an old movie for an hour, when she'd yawned, and stretched out, deliberately testing the ground. Angel had stayed in the same pot, and when she looked tired, proffered the blanket behind them that Mom kept there. Hearing Buffy's steps on the path outside, she'd swallowed her fear, and reached up to kiss him.
As Buffy had walked through the door, she'd seen them. Angel and Faith apparently making out, watching old movies. She'd gasped, and walked straight back out the door, and stayed at her friend's.
Meanwhile, Angel pushed Faith abruptly away from himself, and stood up, raking his hands through his hair.
"Why Faith? Why?" he'd asked her, his face twisted with worry, and confusion. She'd been on the verge of tears.
"I like you. And Buffy isn't who everyone thinks she is!" she'd protested in vain, but Angel had stalked out of the room angrily, grabbing his coat, and going home.
At school, the next few days were awful. Buffy's friends ignored her, and she'd neglected her own when she'd been on the squad. Buffy, angry, and hurt by her boyfriend and her sister, had been asked to the dance by a guy called Parker, and accepted, and was consequently seen making out with him on school campus, a move designed to hurt Angel.
Angel had stopped by the house that afternoon, when it became common knowledge at school that he and Buffy were 'so over', and that 'you know that Summers girl? She and Parker Abrams are going together to the dance!' Dawn had answered the door, and called Faith down from her room, where she was immersed in lyrics, and geometry.
"You heard.at school?" he asked bluntly. She nodded. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?" It wasn't so much of a question, as a command. She'd nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. "Fine. Pick you up. Eight thirty." He'd gone his face still stony.
Kendra wasn't around yet. It had been Faith solo at the dress shops, looking for a dress to the dance she 'hadn't wanted to go to'. She'd found it, a tiny shop, not many people coming by, not much choice, but she'd found something. It was a deep wine colour but dark. It was thin silk, hanging from simple shoulder straps, and clinging to her body, flowing around her fluidly. It complimented her dark hair, and she had been sure of one thing. Buffy would never have worn anything like it.
The day of the dance, everywhere she'd gone in school, everyone was talking about it. She hadn't seen Buffy that morning, and when she had seen her in school, she'd timidly tried to make eye contact. Buffy had looked resolutely ahead, her hair poker straight down her back, her jaw set, and her hazel eyes glittering.
That evening, she'd dressed quickly, tousling her hair into soft waves. She had used a deep crimson that matched her dress for her lips, satisfied that Buffy would not look anything like it.
She'd waited in the living room, walking backwards and forwards over the carpet, rubbing at her hands, and fiddling with an earring. The doorbell had gone, and she'd opened the door, smiling in anticipation, but the cute guy standing in the doorway was Parker, Buffy's date.
Buffy had swept down the stairs, smiling sweetly, her pale lavender dress swirling around her, her long blond hair in soft curls. When she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Parker had kissed her cheek, and proffered a white rosebud as a corsage. She'd smiled, taken his arm, and sailed past Faith, and out into the street, ignoring her sister.
Half an hour later, Angel turned up, five minutes late, and scowling. As she'd answered the door, he'd taken her hand, and steered her outside.
At the dance, they'd had the misfortune to pass Buffy with Parker. Angel's scowl had deepened, and he'd pulled Faith onto the dancefloor, as the slow song Buffy had been dancing to dreamily ended. They left the floor, and abruptly, Angel had stopped dancing, and searched out his team buddies, and their dates.
During the night, Angel had danced with Faith a couple of times, and then, he led her onto the floor, next to Buffy and Parker. As the slow, sad song progressed, he'd leant down, and kissed her. Still reeling from it, Faith had looked up, and dazedly clapped the organizers as they came on stage to announce the Spring Prince and Princess.
As they made hype about the vote count, and who had been nominees, Faith had stood on the floor, numb with shock. Everyone had voted a week or two ago, and back then, class couple had been her sister, and Angel. And if it weren't for her, they would still be.
As Harmony onstage, in a pale pink number, declared that "It was a very close..thing," Buffy and Parker were standing nearby, their attention focused on the acolyte of Buffy's.
"And I am *totally* proud to announce, this year's Spring Fling prince, and princess, are..Buffy Summers, and Angel O'Connnor!"
Her sister had simply smiled, and lifted the skirt of her dress to climb the stairs, as Angel moved from her side, creating a draft. She'd watched, as if in slow motion, as they had been crowned, and then the music started up. Angel had led Buffy onto the floor, and standing off the dance floor, watching Parker dance with one of Buffy's friends, she had seen their mouths move, and knew she had lost.
Tears had streamed down her face, and she'd slumped into a chair, her hands angrily wrecking the soft waves she'd created in her air, a la Buffy. A gentle hand had been placed on her shoulder.
"There enough misery here for two, ya think?" Gunn had asked, sitting down beside her. In response, she'd cried harder.
"Yeah, it's tough. But those two are solid. I know you had a crush on the guy forever, but face it. He took you to make your sister sit up and take notice. Those two will stick together. Gross, ain't it?" he asked, sliding an arm around her, and hugging her.
"I ignored you. I'm sorry! She'd howled through the tears and he'd laughed.
"What are friends for?" he'd replied simply, and helped her up, and walked her out of the gym.
Faith crashed back into the present. The entire school had treated her like some kind of leper after that, not least because she'd developed a style as far away from Buffy's as possible, most of it involving leather. She'd done wild and crazy stuff, explored all things recreational, and tossed aside cares of school, or home. Buffy was Mom's princess and always reported with concern back to her mother when Faith did something particularly outrageous. The start of this year, however, was supposed to be a new start for her.
She rolled over on her bed, and propped her head up in her hands. Spike. That was the guy's name, right? This singing thing. She hadn't sung for years, since her voice was the treble to Buffy's soprano. Nowadays she was down in the alto section, and when her teens had hit in, she'd been kicked from the choir, for not being able to hit the high notes.
Not that it had stopped her. Faith reached a hand under her bed, to fish up a grubby shoebox. She and Buffy had started these way back in elementary school. Mom had bought them each a pair of shoes, and then they had spent the afternoon making them into keepsake boxes. Carefully, they'd glued wallpaper, and glitter, and stars onto the outside, and then stuck a different kind of wallpaper to the inside. Mom had hugged them both, and kissed them.
"Now you'll always have a place to put your treasures," she'd said, holding them tight. Faith remembered filling hers up with stones she'd found, or bits and bobs she'd found. Buffy had solemnly put her old dolls in hers, and her Power-girl mask. And then came the ballet stage, where an old pair of pink satin ballet shoes joined the jumble. And finally, skating.
Faith's own box had been empty of much other than dust, for ages. When Dawn turned seven, Buffy had made a box with *her* as well. Faith knew that was where Dawn kept her old journals. Faith had had nothing in there for so long, Dawn once asked for it as a coffin for a dead gerbil, or something. Mom had defended Faith's box, as if it was important or something. At that point, she was seriously into the recreational fun on offer among the older people of her year.
And now, it was filled with songs. Over time, and years, she had filled it to the brim with paper. Yellow legal pads, lavender and pink stationary stolen from Buffy, even diary pages from Dawn. But primarily notebook paper. Lyrics had built up, from when she was mad at the world, or totally miserable, or, she thought, trawling through, and pulling up a tissue and reading the almost illegible scrawl, high on something.
Her box full of treasures was her version of a diary. The day she had asked for guitar lessons, she was frustrated with so many songs, and no music to play it to. Her Mom had been delighted. From around the time Buffy had got so popular, and she'd been dropped from various people and activities, she'd got in with the bad ass crowd. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, she acknowledged. A serious reaction to the divorce her parents had decided on, she'd gotten arrested in a club, at 15. And she hadn't changed much in Sunnydale. Her first year here had been her last in Junior High, and Mom had forced Buffy to 'help Faith find a place, sweetheart'. Mom had looked on guitar as a nice, *safe* activity. Yeah, a nice, *safe* way to extricate the angst, and pain.
She closed the lid back on the box, and stowed it back under the bed, still thinking.
A bang on the door crossed into her reverie, and she looked up, startled. Dawn swung the door forward.
"Buffy's home," she said simply. Faith groaned.
"Fine. What does she want?" she asked.
"Did any of my friends call for me?" Dawn affected a nasal tone.
"Tell her no, the insane asylum did though, and they say her parole is up," Faith snapped moodily. Dawn snorted, and headed down the stairs.
"Faith!" Jeez, could Buffy *get* more venom in her voice than that. Sighing, Faith rolled off her bed, and prepared for life dealing with her sister's avid social schedule.
Again with the it's not the subtlest chapter in the world, but I got two reviews of eleven asking about it, and that's almost a fifth of my readers, or SO IT SEEMS!!!! (cough) So I did the cartoonesque, sledgehammer thing. Sue me. On second thoughts, maybe not..still a student, no money, poor allowance, not much work,yadayada.you catch my drift. All I have is my wonderful imagination.. I should go. Now. Before I sound any more like the Waltons.(goes offstage, then loud shout heard, "Muse! Where the hell are you? You're suppose to HELP, not make me say stuff like that!" Crashing noise is heard)