Adjustment – Part XI
"Don't be upset," Dawn said quietly as she walked into the kitchen which was empty except for a shadowy figure of Xander sitting slumped down in one of the chairs.
"I thought I was actually being subdued right now," he answered glancing up with a soft, tired smile drawn across his features.
"You forget – I actually know you and when you're quiet that's usually when something's really wrong…" she watched him quietly for a few more moments then continued, "tell me… what's going on?"
"She's angry…" he said as though he was admitting a thought that weighed as much as he did.
"She's always angry at something… there's enough anger stored in there that if she's steadily angry until she dies, there's probably still going to be a bunch left over…" she joked.
"She's angry at me and so am I."
"Why?" He just shook his head slowly in response remaining silent. She waited a few more moments before pushing, "Xander, ever since we moved you've barely talked to me… we're supposed to be friends but now you're either following her around or you're sitting all mopey and depressed and won't talk."
"Dawn… I'm in love with her."
"Xander, your heart is worth more than-" she cut herself off then continued, "rebound can do strange things to someone's senses…"
"You're old enough now, Dawnie… she was the first person that I was ever hooked on."
"What about Cordelia?"
"I cared about Cordelia a lot and I even loved her… but Faith was definitely the first girl that I couldn't stop thinking about."
"That's what tits and an ass will get you."
"Maybe," he agreed knowing she wasn't getting what he was talking about. "Get some rest, Dawn," he said quietly as he stood from the chair and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. She couldn't help but feel that pang of jealousy, which she constantly chided herself for knowing that Faith was really cool and that her and Xander were good for each other.
---
He reached his bedroom and entered it without any particular enthusiasm knowing his night was going to be spent alone as they had been for quite some time. He sighed as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt off. He tensed his stomach muscles then gave it a firm punch as he did whenever he took his shirt off as a type of reassurance that he was making a physical comeback and the time he was spending doing sit-ups and crunches weren't all a waste. He unclasped his watch and glanced at it quickly before tossing it down onto the table. It was already close to two a.m. and he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep so he occupied his mind with the shallow feelings of dread of having to lie down and toss and turn for hours on end, only to then get up again tomorrow just as tired, if not more so, then when he had set out to sleep.
He smiled to himself as he lowered down to the floor on his back and began to do sit ups. He remembered how everyone would joke about how easily amused he was and he would always hate to be thought of as simple – but right now, he wished their words had been more true. He wanted to be easily amused by anything – anything at all that would possibly get his mind off of… well, there he went again thinking about it. There was nothing to think about, he convinced himself in a steady, rhythmical chant that coincided with the rise and fall of his body – twenty two, twenty three, twenty four – he continued with the exercise.
He figured maybe if he made himself tired enough then he had a chance, if even a slight one, the odds would be further in his favor to maybe find a single wink of sleep in the duration of this night. Fifty nine, sixty, sixty one… *Faith… Anya… anger… guilt… pain… she's angry at me… so am I… she says she wants to be alone but she's screaming for someone… she's so lonely… she's always been lonely and it's what she hates about herself… they always say it about slayers, no matter how many people they're surrounded by they always fight alone… why does life have to be a constant battle for her? Even Buffy has her intermissions… she's so lonely… I'm lonely.* One twenty three, one twenty four, one twenty five…
The pain that begins to surge through his muscles starts to blur out the screaming slurs of thought racing through his brain. One fifty seven, one fifty eight, one fifty nine… *Should I go in to her? Does she need me? She's asleep you fool, why would she stay up thinking about me? A girl like that doesn't need to lose sleep over anyone… to surpass all in one's kind brings one to infinite glory and power, the ultimate power of feeling, but with it I suppose also comes loneliness… a loneliness that one can become so adept to that it is hardly considered loneliness, but rather a friend is thought of as a crowd or perhaps a simple surprise.* One seventy, one seventy one, one seventy two.
*That's the problem with Faith – she surpasses all in every facet of her being… but with that she has not lost the awareness that she is alone, and that she doesn't want to be but is so jaded to such that not being alone is something that is truly unconsciously avoided, if by nothing else habit. But no, that's also a lie… her entire being is based on lies – straight from the beginning I'm sure. She convinces herself that she avoids others, their words of praise, their caress, their emotions, their connections because of only habit, but it's a lie. What makes it so hard is that she knows it's a lie. The pain that wells up inside of her every moment is a constant reminder to her that habit is a lie – pain and fear of pain is the true catalyst. Every lie that was ever spoken to her is forgotten, passed through her conscious like air, thick air, but air none the less, and it has passed and been forgotten. That's a lie too. It's without a doubt that they're all still stored in some facet of the brain where they can only be taped into subconsciously. There are lies that live though – the ones that linger and feed, the ones that haunt and tease, probing at nerves and emotions always ready to give that last little push towards an eruption – these lies are the ones that she believed when they were spoken.* Two hundred.
*God I wish I were simple…*
---
*'But you said we could go today…'
'Don't bother me now.'
'I didn't mean to bother you.'
'Well you did, and you still are… buzz off.'
'John still has that puppy he's giving away… did you think about yet?'
'I told you once, no dog!'
'But-'
'Get lost!'
'Okay…'
'Rick's coming by later tonight so don't be around.'
'I don't like him… he gives me dirty looks.'
'That's why I don't want you around when he's here.'
'He's always here.'
'He keeps your ma happy, doesn't he? Don't you care about me?'
'Yeah, I do… I just don't like the way he treats you, that's all.'
'I can take care of myself, Faith." *
I sit bolt upright in bed gasping to catch my breath and no matter how hard I try and pull the air into my lungs they scream in agony from their emptiness. I cradle my face in my hand touching it as though I don't really believe it's there. It's covered in cold sweat, dripping down my face… my arms are covered too. I wipe my hand across my neck and my chest to feel the cold layer that's formed there too. I run my fingers through my hair pulling it away from my face convinced I'm hot when my body is really telling me I'm freezing.
I know he's not there but I glance behind me towards the other side of the bed anyway… it was worth a try. God I'm whipped… who the fuck cares if he was there, it's not like he's change anything anyhow. He'd mumble some monotonous line that's supposed to make me feel better and expect it to work, and be all sorts of offended when it didn't do jack. Men, they're all fucking animals… and I'm not being cynical, I'm being logical and learned! If there were a Ph.D. in men, I'd be world renowned.
Not that I'm not already wanted all over the world… wanted, that's a funny word for it. They should make it, America's Most Hunted… wanted makes you feel too warm and fuzzy inside when you think about it – they don't really want any of them, they just need to find them to collect their paycheck. If that were really what was meant by wanted then I've got nothing to complain about… I've probably got a crew of two dozen uniformed men out there aimlessly searching the streets 'wanting' me.
To be wanted… what a strange fucking feeling. Too much responsibility for me – never really was my thing. Sometimes I wish the government could hook me up with some sort of chip, like Spike, but not to make sure I don't hurt anyone, but kind of as a mute button. I want to be able to just put a mute on my brain so I don't have to constantly hear it thinking… God, it never bloody shuts up! You would think it would figure out something interesting to say once in a while, but no it's just as boring as I am…
*'Mom? Mom… hey, Ma? You passed out or something?' I call obnoxiously sure that she's asleep and won't be able to yell at me for being a bitch. 'Mom?' I call as I step into her room. 'You awake?' I walk over to her bed then stop short when I see the blood stained sheets. 'Mom?' I ask my voice already all choked up. I glance over her quickly and see a knife on the bed and blood all over her. I quickly back away from the bed immediately feeling as though I've done something wrong and I'm in trouble,
'Faith.'
'What the hell happened, Ricky!?'
'Bad trip I guess… happens.'
'But… why didn't you-'
'Listen, baby, I'll take care of it but in the mean time why don't you come with me and I'll make you feel better, okay?' *
"FUCK!" I scream as loud as I can and I'm sure the entire house is up because of it. If I was going to do time for killing someone, why didn't I kill him? He was definitely the first person I ever truly hated. "Fucking scumbag! Fucking piece of shit! I'll fucking kill you, mother fucker!" I keep screaming and I can feel the tears burning in my eyes but I don't cry – I never want to cry. I slam my fist into the wall with a lot of force – immediate gratification is definitely my thing, and now I'm able to catch my breath a little bit. I grab my face again the way I'm sure it feels like when someone else does it to make you feel better, not that I could know for sure…
*'Hello there missy, what do you say we do something to get rid of that God awful frown?' I feign a smile knowing I had drifted off to think about something else. 'A penny for you thoughts… hell, make it a quarter,' he says enthusiastically holding the coin up towards me with a huge smile painted across his face.
'Just stuff.'
'Well, what kind of stuff? What is it with kids these days? Never wanting to participate in meaningful dialogue… conversation is what keep cultures alive and helps them to grow and become closer. None of us would be here today if everyone just answered 'stuff' all the time… Now tell me, what's keeping you?'
'Nothing, boss… do you need me to pull any jobs tonight?'
'Actually yes – come with me, we need to discus a fellow by the name of Worth.' *
What the hell is wrong with me? I wigging out… there's definitely an issue with me and I better figure it out because I'm about to scream, and if I start screaming there's going to be no stopping me. The last time I felt this angry Xander grabbed me and held me to calm me down… I want him next to me to just lie to me and tell me everything's okay and that he'll never leave me and that he really does love me. I know it's all lies but I don't care – I just want him here with me to hold me and lie to me.
*'What're you in for?'
'Nothing.'
'Is that right? Well, from the security I've been watching follow you around-'
'Why the fuck are you watching me?'
'No reason… this jail doesn't really house easy cases, so my guess is you didn't do nothing.'
'Well your guesses suck.'
'Aren't you a nice girl…'
'No, I'm not.'
'You probably done some bad shit.'
'Yeah, so if you wanna live to see the end of your sentence I suggest you leave me alone and stop watching me.'
'You probably don't have any friends… that's why you're so mean.'
'I'm probably pretty far away from being the meanest mother fucker in here; you've probably murdered more folks then I have otherwise you wouldn't be in a cell next to me, and I don't have any fucking friends but that's none of your business and it has absolutely nothing to do with why I'm so fucking mean – I just don't like you.'
'Hit a nerve.'
'I'll hit your fucking face in a minute!'
'In case you didn't realize – you're in a fucking cell. Do you even begin to know what that means? You're locked up, kid – you ain't coming out until they say so, and until then you sit there and you make due. You'll be fucking old, and a lot less pretty by the time you see the light of day as a free person again… my guess is, and please tell me if it's a good one, you're never fucking getting out of here for all the shit you done.'
I completely lose it and start screaming angrily and punching the bars and throwing anything I can get my hands on, which isn't much more than a few sheets, a magazine and a paper cup. I just keep screaming as though it's all just going to disappear, everything – the jail, the people in it and the people and reasons why I'm there. Maybe if I just keep screaming it'll go away and I'll be back in Sunnydale, or even better, I'll be back in Boston with my mother just talking about shit that doesn't even matter but we pretend it does because we don't want to have to talk about that other stuff. *
Why won't it fucking stop!? I can't handle this for much longer… I feel like I might just lose my shit momentarily and start screaming and making it all disappear, but I realize that last time it didn't get me anything but a beating from the guards on duty. It makes me think for a minute though – the last time I screamed it was because I thought I was being thrown away for good and the keys weren't even being thrown away, they were being burned. I thought my life was over and I didn't have a chance – but here I am, still wanting to scream, but as a free person. Granted I can't even go out and have a nice dinner without having to leave in order to not see a cop, but as of this moment I'm not behind bars.
And that's when it hit me – I was afraid to go back.
---
"Coffee?" Andrew asked enthusiastically as Faith walks into the kitchen dragging her feet the entire way. Her eyes are barely open and she looks exhausted. She jumps slightly at the piercing sound of his voice and the high pitched tone in which he used to exemplify his enthusiastic offer. Accompanied by a groan she nodded and leans against the counter using it quite dependently to remain standing. Xander walks down the stairs… well, more like shuffles, but either way, he somehow makes it down to the kitchen where Andrew greets him also, "Coffee?" The same eager tone with the offer causing both Xander and Faith to jump slightly, just as Faith had done before alone, causing both of them to almost wince in pain of having to move so quickly.
"Sleep well?" Andrew asks as he carries over two cups of coffee.
"Peachy," Faith assures him, "could you put some milk and sugar in that?"
"You know you kind of mess up the bad ass stereotype with softening up your coffee like that…"
"Yeah, did you get weird looks in jail when you put stuff in your coffee?" Andrew asked bluntly as he started spooning the sugar into the drink.
"Actually, we weren't allowed coffee."
"I always thought-"
"I burned some chicks face with it my first week… coffee privileges kind of disappeared after that."
"Oh," Andrew said a little shocked. Although he thought she was remarkable for her heroism and her evil ways, he also was sort of in denial about it and had this picture of Faith as a nice, little, cuddly person. A lot of them had deluded themselves to that image… it was probably easier to accept. "I remember when I was ten, no wait, I was definitely nine and… and… one third… yeah, nine and one third, and I burned my finger really bad when I touched the car window."
"Car window?" Xander asked confused.
"Yeah, they get really hot when the sun's on them for a while…" he explained. "I think I even still have a scar from it," he said holding his pinky up to Faith to show her his impressive battle wound. She laughed slightly as he waved his finger in her face. She glanced quickly over at Xander without making her smile disappear figuring that he wouldn't even see her looking but his eyes caught hers and she couldn't help but linger a little longer and pass him his own subtle smile. "I even had to go to the hospital…"
"Oh really," Faith said playing along. Xander leaned back on the wall watching her play with him. She grabbed his hand and kissed his pinky flashing him a quick wink as she did so. "All better."
---
"It's good to see you up and training," Giles states professionally as he walks into the workout room by Faith's bedroom. There isn't much there except for an oversized punching bag hanging from the ceiling and a few speakers scattered around the perimeter with tangled wires carelessly tossed on the ground. He watches her continue punching the bag viciously without even a slight acknowledgment of him. "Faith?" She punches continuously never even stopping for enough time to take a breath. "Faith…" Giles tries again finally walking towards the punching bag cautiously. He walks behind it so the bag is between him and Faith to avoid catching a stray punch. "Faith."
She throws in a few more vicious assaults and finally grabs the bag to steady herself closing her eyes and catching her breath as her body heaves from the intense session. She sighs loudly as she now tilts her head against the bag for steadiness then tilts her head back and finally looks up at the ceiling.
"Faith?"
"What?" she asks still panting and never looking down to him.
"A little intense for everyday training…"
"I like it intense."
"What's wrong?"
"Just cause a girl likes it rough something's gotta be wrong?"
"Faith-"
"I just wanna make sure I actually get some sleep tonight… with the whole lack of slaying thing I think I'm just a little hyper."
"You're not sleeping well?"
"Not really… didn't get much last night at all."
"Were you with Xander?"
"Why would I be with Xander?"
"Come off it, Faith. Lately you two have been spending the night together, and-"
"That's none of your business-"
"There's nothing wrong with that. It's fine that you have a thing with-"
"A thing!? There's-" she cuts herself off, "There's nothing wrong with it, but there's definitely something wrong with you-"
"Faith, stop lying to yourself maybe just a for a few moments here and-"
"I don't need this," she answers cutting him off and turning towards the door.
"Faith, you need to tell me if something is upsetting you… I need to know-"
"Yeah, you always need to fucking know… the same shit's bothering me that was since the day you met me… you didn't fix it then what the hell makes you think anything's going to be different this time around? Screw you and screw everyone else who thinks they have any clue on-"
"Don't be so bloody impossible!"
"Wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good reputation-"
"Of being a bloody self-loathing individual that's terrified of depending on someone?"
"I'm out of here," she answered quickly grabbing her sweatshirt off of the floor by the door.
"Faith, just stop it, would you?" he called following behind her closely. "Don't talk like that," he called as he followed her into her room.
"I can't take this anymore! I'm big a girl, Giles, I can take care of myself!"
*'I can take care of myself, Faith.'*
"Faith, no one is denying that you can-"
"I've been through more shit than you could even imagine, and I'm not one to march around singing about that shit like your princess Buffy, but I know what works for me and this isn't it-"
"Faith, why are you attacking like this?"
"I'm tired, okay?" she finally answers in a defeated tone.
"That's fine," he answers cautiously knowing she's not fighting anymore, but she's still being just as self destructive if not more so. "Faith, no one is against you, okay?"
"Whatever," she answers with a fake smile not hearing a word coming out of his mouth anymore. Giles sees how completely blocked out he is and sighs in frustration.
"Faith, I want you to-"
"Do something I'm not going to do," she answered cutting him off.
"God, I thought Buffy was stubborn…"
"Don't compare us," she snapped sharply. "There's no comparison."
"You're both more similar then either of you would like to admit-"
"Buffy hasn't been through half the shit I have…"
"She's been through a lot!"
"You're right," she answered defeated again. "My mistake."
"Faith," Giles began knowing she was just blocking him out again, "you two have led very different lives…"
"And as you said, her's has been so much harder than mine…"
"Faith! No one is picking sides here!"
"No, no one is ever picking sides, you're completely right."
"Don't yes me to death, Faith."
"You're right, I'm sorry," she answered cynically.
"I give up," he answered with a sigh.
"You gave up a long time ago."
"That's not true!"
"Of course not."
---
"So tomorrow we're starting the move," Robin said trying to spark conversation with Xander who was sitting on the couch staring off into space.
"Need a hand with anything?"
"Probably…"
"Just let me know."
"Okay." He paused a minute then began again, "How's Faith doing?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Hey," Kennedy greeted as she walked in.
"Hey," Robin answered, "did you finish packing up Dawn's stuff?"
"Yup, all done."
"Okay," he answered as he left the room.
"What's up?" she asked brightly towards Xander who could still pass as being asleep.
"Nothing."
"Faith's in a really bad mood."
"That sucks."
"Can you please talk to her?"
"Why do you think me talking to her would make things any better?"
"I just went to go talk to her and I could hear her and Giles screaming at each other from the hallway… I think you really need to talk to her."
"In case you haven't realized, there's no talking to Faith when she's like that."
"Yeah, I guess I was stupid to think you'd even bother to try."
"You must really hate me, Kennedy."
"I don' t… but God, I know how helpless she can make you feel, that's something she prides herself in being able to do, but why do you believe her?"
"She's very convincing…"
"You've got more power then she'll ever admit out loud…"
Kennedy's words spoke more volumes then he would ever admit and he knew she had to be right. He nodded to her with a soft smile crossing his features in approval to her words.
"She deals with a lot," he added softly after both sat there pensively. She nodded with a grin,
"You can help."
---
It was coming close to eleven at night and everyone excluding a few had gathered in the living room to watch some television. It had become a sort of unwritten tradition for them all to at least watch a few commercials together before heading off to sleep. There had been a lot of packing and planning so the crowd was quite subdued, not to mention the intense factor of Faith was absent. Xander sat at the couch quickly glancing back and forth from the television to the doorway hoping to see her walk past, already sure she wasn't going to come in and join them.
He deemed himself desperate for his incessant glances and a loser for not just going into her room to talk to her in the first place until he finally caught her heading towards the kitchen. He jumped to his feet and quickly walked after her into the kitchen.
"Hey," he said as she reached the fridge. She turned softly towards him quickly glancing up at him before returning her eyes to the ground,
"Hey."
"Faith… can we talk a minute?" She shrugged her shoulders visibly in response as she closed the fridge now holding three beers in her hand,
"Don't really think there's much to talk about…"
"Faith… I'm trying here, okay."
"Don't waste the energy on me," she answered surprisingly subdued as she began to walk out of the kitchen.
"It's not a waste!" he snapped angry that she would degrade herself like that.
"Believe me, it's a waste." She didn't even wait for a response – hell she didn't even look for one, she just turned and left the kitchen returning to her dark cave with beer in hand. With an audible sigh he turned to the fridge and also pulled out a beer knowing it was going to be far from his last that night. They had just bought the twelve pack and there were already five gone… he took the sixth with a raise of his eyebrows starting to realize how Faith was coping with everything.
---
He softly knocked at the door to her bedroom and received a quick,
"What?" He walked in but stayed right at the door,
"Am I still kicked out?" He looked over at her – she was sitting on her bed leaning against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest holding both a cigarette and a Corona in her right hand.
"Duh," she answered with a slight smile. He could tell looking at her and by the tone of her voice that it was more because she was a little drunk then because he had been forgiven.
"Oh well that's a relief," he joked. He smiled hoping to get more of a feel on where she was but it made a deep impact when she smiled softly then turned her head to the side looking sadly at her shoulder. "Faith?" he asked cautiously entering the bedroom.
"Come here," she offered softly holding her hand out towards him. He glanced over at the table next to her bed with two packs of cigarettes on it, one empty, the other with only half it's contents remaining, and five empty Corona's and a flask of Jack Daniels with about a third gone. After making a mental note that she was definitely very far away from sober he did as she said. This was not to say that in the twelve pack, he hadn't helped her finish it that night. He climbed onto the bed towards her and when he was close enough to her outreached hand he stopped and she touched his cheek softly. After looking deeply into his eyes he felt her other hand reach his hip and grab the waist of his jeans and his shirt and pull him towards her.
"Faith," he managed to get out before she pressed her lips against his strongly. She pulled him onto her and she slid down underneath him moaning as she pressed up against him. "Faith," he said quickly separating himself from her, "you're drunk…"
"And you're not?" she asked looking up at him with a smile. She reached up to the button on his jeans and quickly undid it.
"That's the point… I don't want to do this while both of us are-"
"At least you won't freak out… you're too fucking drunk to think – and I'm too fucking drunk to care even if you do…" she explained with way too much levity. "Come on," she urged as she leaned up and kissed his neck.
"Faith, not like this," he said pulling away from her again.
"Fine," she answered with a huff letting herself fall back onto the bed and just lie there staring up at him. He hovered above her looking contently down – he picked his hand up and moved a strand of hair from her face smiling softly at her. "I'm so fucking wasted," she admitted with a laugh.
"I know," he answered smiling brighter at her. "Why don't I lie down over here," he explained slowly as he climbed off of her and laid on his side next to her, "and you stay right there so I can just look at you all night," he added running his fingers gingerly through her hair.
"Yeah, look at me, that's a good one…"
"Yeah," he answered placing a soft kiss on her forehead, "I might need to hold you a little too…"
"Yeah," she answered gripping his shirt and pulling herself closer to him. He couldn't believe how good he felt just being able to be near her and hold her – he knew she wasn't sober, but knowing her alcohol tolerance, she was far from delirious. It meant a lot that she was both in a good mood wanting to be near him and she hadn't forced him to have to leave by being insistent on him putting out. She was definitely more sober than she was willing to admit to as she nestled closely to him. "I missed you last night," she muttered quietly. He stroked her hair,
"I missed you too."
---
I had closed my eyes hours before and probably could've slept through the entire night had everything remained the same. I had my arms wrapped tightly around her making it clear to anyone and everyone that I never wanted to let her go, no matter what. And as much as she would talk and as good as she was at hurting me, Kennedy was right, she never wanted me to let go either. She felt safe and warm and wanted. I was ripped from my sleep as she shot bolt upright in bed with a hysterical scream. I jumped up quickly sitting up next to her as she fought to catch her breath and she glanced quickly around the room.
"What's wrong?" I asked with concern putting an arm around her needing to remind her that she was still there since she was looking around like maybe she was somewhere else and didn't know how to get back. "Faith, it's okay…" I added with a squeeze. I was practically dumbfounded when she turned to me, still panting and close to hysterical and she grabbed me and pulled herself close to me burying her head on my chest and she started to cry. I pulled her close and held her strongly feeling a knot form in my throat at the sound of her tears.
"Xander…" she said finally lifting her head up. She draped one of her arms over my shoulder stroking my neck with her thumb concentrating carefully on it to try and calm herself down as though I were the one that needed calming. "I can't take it anymore…" she said finally shaking her head back and forth. "I can't do it…"
"Calm down," I answer her pushing her hair from her face. "It's okay…"
"I don't want to see them anymore… I don't want to think about it all… why won't it just go away? I'm so sorry and… and it just won't stop," she explains as tears start to streak down her face again. "Why won't it just stop!?" she asked again grabbing her head as though it were painful.
"It's okay," I tell her pressing my cheek against hers so I'm whispering into her ear as I hold her tightly.
"I can't keep seeing it…"
"Seeing what?"
"Everything… everything in my head that I don't want to see, it's all I see and-" she stops as her voice cracks painfully. "Hold me," she says in a voice that could've been mistaken for a whimper. "Lie to me," she says to me as I hold her tightly.
"What?" I ask softly.
"Tell me you love me."
"I wouldn't be lying." She nods softly to me as though she wishes I were lying, I suppose it's because it's easier for her to believe lies than to venture and believe in truths. I lie down on my back and pull her softly down on top of me; I hold her comfortingly around her back with one of my arms while the other strokes her hair. She lies there obviously deep in thought for quite a while before lifting her head so she's looking into my eyes as though she doesn't want to be lied to now, or at least if she is, she wants to know.
"Don't leave me…"
"I won't," I answer knowing how hard it was for her to say that. I can tell from her tone that that single fear is the root of everything – to be left is where all other aspects of her defensive nature spout from and are constantly fed since she feels constantly abandoned by everything. Her features soften in a way that shows a fear has been temporarily coaxed and she rests her head back on my chest tracing abstract figures with her fingertip on my chest.
"I've been thinking about my mom a lot," she says barely loud enough for me to hear. She continues tracing her finger along my chest and it seems to be a sort of nervous habit.
"Is that what woke you up?"
"Kind of…"
"What do you mean, kind of?"
"It was more what happened after, but…"
"After what?" I ask softly sure not to push too much. She doesn't answer and I ask, "did she leave you?" After a moment to process she answered in a tone that attempted to mask the amount of pain the memory had caused,
"In a way, I guess…"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's not really much to talk about…" she answered her voice becoming more and more anxious by the word.
"Okay," I soothed. "You seemed pretty upset when you woke up…"
*'Ricky's gonna make it all go away.'
'No, I think you're wrong… I'm outta here.'
'I don't think so.'
'You're hurting me…'
'Then stop trying to pull away.'
'Get away from me!'
'Better shut up, Faith, your dead mother might hear… don't worry, you're as fucking hot as they come, I won't last long… just keep quiet.'
'No! Don't fucking touch me!' *
"Yeah," she answered. "I don't want to talk about it…"
"Sure," I answer pained by the expression on her face. I can tell what she's hiding hurts her and it makes my throat sting at the thought. I kiss her tenderly on her forehead never feeling this way about anyone ever before. I love Anya and she made me happy and I loved being with her – but Faith seemed to complete my world. She needed me and I was actually that essential piece in something to make it work. Anya and her are very different from each other and so are my feelings for each of them, neither better than the other just very different. My throat tightens as I think of Anya while wrapped around someone else but I'm able to coax it down knowing that I still love Anya and there's nothing wrong with that. It's something I'm going to be battling with for a very long time, but looking up at Faith I know it's completely worth it.
"She killed herself," she says almost out of no where. I'm shocked that she just told me that and I almost can't believe she's telling me about her mother. Faith's never talked about anything negative from her past with anyone, only funny stories that she thought would be entertaining, and here she was telling me about the base of her entire life.
"What?" I say the words slipping out of my mouth before I can even think.
"I came home and found her in her bed with a knife…" her words were stuck and forced as she pushed each one out in separate breaths unable to get enough to get through a sentence, "she was still lying in her own blood and… and her boyfriend was there and he just shrugged it off like it was nothing and said she had a bad trip…"
"What happened after?" I ask remembering that she said that wasn't what had woken her, but what had happened afterwards.
"What?" she asks seeming confused.
"You said something happened after… what did he do to you?" I ask angrily realizing what happened but the thought being so awful that I needed to her tell me I was wrong.
"He grabbed me and…" she trailed off getting up off of the bed and walking towards the window as she continued slowly, "he said he was going to make it all better… he raped me…" she told me as I jumped off the bed to go over to her. I walked over quickly but cautiously and placed my hands on either side of her face making her look at me. "He raped me right outside of the room where my mother was fucking lying dead in a pool of blood! She fucking left me and nothing but bad things fucking happened to me after that."
"Shh…" I say pleading with her to calm down even though I can't make myself do so. I press my cheek against hers holding her close to me as though I could just make it all go away. I feel infuriated and I wish I could've protected her from everything that she went through, and I feel helpless since I couldn't. "I don't know what to say…" I admit finally looking at her. Her eyes are threatening to allow passage to the tears welled within them but she keeps herself from crying.
"I've never told anyone before… guess I have a good reason to be so screwed up, huh?" I can see small tears escaping from the sides of his eyes and he tries to hide it by wrapping his arms around me. He kisses me on my forehead again before pulling me into him closer. "You know, it's not very manly to cry…"
"I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again."
It's a lie, I know it is… but it's a lie I want to be true – I don't want to get hurt anymore. Breathing hurts because of all the pain inside of me; it's a lie that I venture to believe.
"Don't be upset," Dawn said quietly as she walked into the kitchen which was empty except for a shadowy figure of Xander sitting slumped down in one of the chairs.
"I thought I was actually being subdued right now," he answered glancing up with a soft, tired smile drawn across his features.
"You forget – I actually know you and when you're quiet that's usually when something's really wrong…" she watched him quietly for a few more moments then continued, "tell me… what's going on?"
"She's angry…" he said as though he was admitting a thought that weighed as much as he did.
"She's always angry at something… there's enough anger stored in there that if she's steadily angry until she dies, there's probably still going to be a bunch left over…" she joked.
"She's angry at me and so am I."
"Why?" He just shook his head slowly in response remaining silent. She waited a few more moments before pushing, "Xander, ever since we moved you've barely talked to me… we're supposed to be friends but now you're either following her around or you're sitting all mopey and depressed and won't talk."
"Dawn… I'm in love with her."
"Xander, your heart is worth more than-" she cut herself off then continued, "rebound can do strange things to someone's senses…"
"You're old enough now, Dawnie… she was the first person that I was ever hooked on."
"What about Cordelia?"
"I cared about Cordelia a lot and I even loved her… but Faith was definitely the first girl that I couldn't stop thinking about."
"That's what tits and an ass will get you."
"Maybe," he agreed knowing she wasn't getting what he was talking about. "Get some rest, Dawn," he said quietly as he stood from the chair and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. She couldn't help but feel that pang of jealousy, which she constantly chided herself for knowing that Faith was really cool and that her and Xander were good for each other.
---
He reached his bedroom and entered it without any particular enthusiasm knowing his night was going to be spent alone as they had been for quite some time. He sighed as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt off. He tensed his stomach muscles then gave it a firm punch as he did whenever he took his shirt off as a type of reassurance that he was making a physical comeback and the time he was spending doing sit-ups and crunches weren't all a waste. He unclasped his watch and glanced at it quickly before tossing it down onto the table. It was already close to two a.m. and he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep so he occupied his mind with the shallow feelings of dread of having to lie down and toss and turn for hours on end, only to then get up again tomorrow just as tired, if not more so, then when he had set out to sleep.
He smiled to himself as he lowered down to the floor on his back and began to do sit ups. He remembered how everyone would joke about how easily amused he was and he would always hate to be thought of as simple – but right now, he wished their words had been more true. He wanted to be easily amused by anything – anything at all that would possibly get his mind off of… well, there he went again thinking about it. There was nothing to think about, he convinced himself in a steady, rhythmical chant that coincided with the rise and fall of his body – twenty two, twenty three, twenty four – he continued with the exercise.
He figured maybe if he made himself tired enough then he had a chance, if even a slight one, the odds would be further in his favor to maybe find a single wink of sleep in the duration of this night. Fifty nine, sixty, sixty one… *Faith… Anya… anger… guilt… pain… she's angry at me… so am I… she says she wants to be alone but she's screaming for someone… she's so lonely… she's always been lonely and it's what she hates about herself… they always say it about slayers, no matter how many people they're surrounded by they always fight alone… why does life have to be a constant battle for her? Even Buffy has her intermissions… she's so lonely… I'm lonely.* One twenty three, one twenty four, one twenty five…
The pain that begins to surge through his muscles starts to blur out the screaming slurs of thought racing through his brain. One fifty seven, one fifty eight, one fifty nine… *Should I go in to her? Does she need me? She's asleep you fool, why would she stay up thinking about me? A girl like that doesn't need to lose sleep over anyone… to surpass all in one's kind brings one to infinite glory and power, the ultimate power of feeling, but with it I suppose also comes loneliness… a loneliness that one can become so adept to that it is hardly considered loneliness, but rather a friend is thought of as a crowd or perhaps a simple surprise.* One seventy, one seventy one, one seventy two.
*That's the problem with Faith – she surpasses all in every facet of her being… but with that she has not lost the awareness that she is alone, and that she doesn't want to be but is so jaded to such that not being alone is something that is truly unconsciously avoided, if by nothing else habit. But no, that's also a lie… her entire being is based on lies – straight from the beginning I'm sure. She convinces herself that she avoids others, their words of praise, their caress, their emotions, their connections because of only habit, but it's a lie. What makes it so hard is that she knows it's a lie. The pain that wells up inside of her every moment is a constant reminder to her that habit is a lie – pain and fear of pain is the true catalyst. Every lie that was ever spoken to her is forgotten, passed through her conscious like air, thick air, but air none the less, and it has passed and been forgotten. That's a lie too. It's without a doubt that they're all still stored in some facet of the brain where they can only be taped into subconsciously. There are lies that live though – the ones that linger and feed, the ones that haunt and tease, probing at nerves and emotions always ready to give that last little push towards an eruption – these lies are the ones that she believed when they were spoken.* Two hundred.
*God I wish I were simple…*
---
*'But you said we could go today…'
'Don't bother me now.'
'I didn't mean to bother you.'
'Well you did, and you still are… buzz off.'
'John still has that puppy he's giving away… did you think about yet?'
'I told you once, no dog!'
'But-'
'Get lost!'
'Okay…'
'Rick's coming by later tonight so don't be around.'
'I don't like him… he gives me dirty looks.'
'That's why I don't want you around when he's here.'
'He's always here.'
'He keeps your ma happy, doesn't he? Don't you care about me?'
'Yeah, I do… I just don't like the way he treats you, that's all.'
'I can take care of myself, Faith." *
I sit bolt upright in bed gasping to catch my breath and no matter how hard I try and pull the air into my lungs they scream in agony from their emptiness. I cradle my face in my hand touching it as though I don't really believe it's there. It's covered in cold sweat, dripping down my face… my arms are covered too. I wipe my hand across my neck and my chest to feel the cold layer that's formed there too. I run my fingers through my hair pulling it away from my face convinced I'm hot when my body is really telling me I'm freezing.
I know he's not there but I glance behind me towards the other side of the bed anyway… it was worth a try. God I'm whipped… who the fuck cares if he was there, it's not like he's change anything anyhow. He'd mumble some monotonous line that's supposed to make me feel better and expect it to work, and be all sorts of offended when it didn't do jack. Men, they're all fucking animals… and I'm not being cynical, I'm being logical and learned! If there were a Ph.D. in men, I'd be world renowned.
Not that I'm not already wanted all over the world… wanted, that's a funny word for it. They should make it, America's Most Hunted… wanted makes you feel too warm and fuzzy inside when you think about it – they don't really want any of them, they just need to find them to collect their paycheck. If that were really what was meant by wanted then I've got nothing to complain about… I've probably got a crew of two dozen uniformed men out there aimlessly searching the streets 'wanting' me.
To be wanted… what a strange fucking feeling. Too much responsibility for me – never really was my thing. Sometimes I wish the government could hook me up with some sort of chip, like Spike, but not to make sure I don't hurt anyone, but kind of as a mute button. I want to be able to just put a mute on my brain so I don't have to constantly hear it thinking… God, it never bloody shuts up! You would think it would figure out something interesting to say once in a while, but no it's just as boring as I am…
*'Mom? Mom… hey, Ma? You passed out or something?' I call obnoxiously sure that she's asleep and won't be able to yell at me for being a bitch. 'Mom?' I call as I step into her room. 'You awake?' I walk over to her bed then stop short when I see the blood stained sheets. 'Mom?' I ask my voice already all choked up. I glance over her quickly and see a knife on the bed and blood all over her. I quickly back away from the bed immediately feeling as though I've done something wrong and I'm in trouble,
'Faith.'
'What the hell happened, Ricky!?'
'Bad trip I guess… happens.'
'But… why didn't you-'
'Listen, baby, I'll take care of it but in the mean time why don't you come with me and I'll make you feel better, okay?' *
"FUCK!" I scream as loud as I can and I'm sure the entire house is up because of it. If I was going to do time for killing someone, why didn't I kill him? He was definitely the first person I ever truly hated. "Fucking scumbag! Fucking piece of shit! I'll fucking kill you, mother fucker!" I keep screaming and I can feel the tears burning in my eyes but I don't cry – I never want to cry. I slam my fist into the wall with a lot of force – immediate gratification is definitely my thing, and now I'm able to catch my breath a little bit. I grab my face again the way I'm sure it feels like when someone else does it to make you feel better, not that I could know for sure…
*'Hello there missy, what do you say we do something to get rid of that God awful frown?' I feign a smile knowing I had drifted off to think about something else. 'A penny for you thoughts… hell, make it a quarter,' he says enthusiastically holding the coin up towards me with a huge smile painted across his face.
'Just stuff.'
'Well, what kind of stuff? What is it with kids these days? Never wanting to participate in meaningful dialogue… conversation is what keep cultures alive and helps them to grow and become closer. None of us would be here today if everyone just answered 'stuff' all the time… Now tell me, what's keeping you?'
'Nothing, boss… do you need me to pull any jobs tonight?'
'Actually yes – come with me, we need to discus a fellow by the name of Worth.' *
What the hell is wrong with me? I wigging out… there's definitely an issue with me and I better figure it out because I'm about to scream, and if I start screaming there's going to be no stopping me. The last time I felt this angry Xander grabbed me and held me to calm me down… I want him next to me to just lie to me and tell me everything's okay and that he'll never leave me and that he really does love me. I know it's all lies but I don't care – I just want him here with me to hold me and lie to me.
*'What're you in for?'
'Nothing.'
'Is that right? Well, from the security I've been watching follow you around-'
'Why the fuck are you watching me?'
'No reason… this jail doesn't really house easy cases, so my guess is you didn't do nothing.'
'Well your guesses suck.'
'Aren't you a nice girl…'
'No, I'm not.'
'You probably done some bad shit.'
'Yeah, so if you wanna live to see the end of your sentence I suggest you leave me alone and stop watching me.'
'You probably don't have any friends… that's why you're so mean.'
'I'm probably pretty far away from being the meanest mother fucker in here; you've probably murdered more folks then I have otherwise you wouldn't be in a cell next to me, and I don't have any fucking friends but that's none of your business and it has absolutely nothing to do with why I'm so fucking mean – I just don't like you.'
'Hit a nerve.'
'I'll hit your fucking face in a minute!'
'In case you didn't realize – you're in a fucking cell. Do you even begin to know what that means? You're locked up, kid – you ain't coming out until they say so, and until then you sit there and you make due. You'll be fucking old, and a lot less pretty by the time you see the light of day as a free person again… my guess is, and please tell me if it's a good one, you're never fucking getting out of here for all the shit you done.'
I completely lose it and start screaming angrily and punching the bars and throwing anything I can get my hands on, which isn't much more than a few sheets, a magazine and a paper cup. I just keep screaming as though it's all just going to disappear, everything – the jail, the people in it and the people and reasons why I'm there. Maybe if I just keep screaming it'll go away and I'll be back in Sunnydale, or even better, I'll be back in Boston with my mother just talking about shit that doesn't even matter but we pretend it does because we don't want to have to talk about that other stuff. *
Why won't it fucking stop!? I can't handle this for much longer… I feel like I might just lose my shit momentarily and start screaming and making it all disappear, but I realize that last time it didn't get me anything but a beating from the guards on duty. It makes me think for a minute though – the last time I screamed it was because I thought I was being thrown away for good and the keys weren't even being thrown away, they were being burned. I thought my life was over and I didn't have a chance – but here I am, still wanting to scream, but as a free person. Granted I can't even go out and have a nice dinner without having to leave in order to not see a cop, but as of this moment I'm not behind bars.
And that's when it hit me – I was afraid to go back.
---
"Coffee?" Andrew asked enthusiastically as Faith walks into the kitchen dragging her feet the entire way. Her eyes are barely open and she looks exhausted. She jumps slightly at the piercing sound of his voice and the high pitched tone in which he used to exemplify his enthusiastic offer. Accompanied by a groan she nodded and leans against the counter using it quite dependently to remain standing. Xander walks down the stairs… well, more like shuffles, but either way, he somehow makes it down to the kitchen where Andrew greets him also, "Coffee?" The same eager tone with the offer causing both Xander and Faith to jump slightly, just as Faith had done before alone, causing both of them to almost wince in pain of having to move so quickly.
"Sleep well?" Andrew asks as he carries over two cups of coffee.
"Peachy," Faith assures him, "could you put some milk and sugar in that?"
"You know you kind of mess up the bad ass stereotype with softening up your coffee like that…"
"Yeah, did you get weird looks in jail when you put stuff in your coffee?" Andrew asked bluntly as he started spooning the sugar into the drink.
"Actually, we weren't allowed coffee."
"I always thought-"
"I burned some chicks face with it my first week… coffee privileges kind of disappeared after that."
"Oh," Andrew said a little shocked. Although he thought she was remarkable for her heroism and her evil ways, he also was sort of in denial about it and had this picture of Faith as a nice, little, cuddly person. A lot of them had deluded themselves to that image… it was probably easier to accept. "I remember when I was ten, no wait, I was definitely nine and… and… one third… yeah, nine and one third, and I burned my finger really bad when I touched the car window."
"Car window?" Xander asked confused.
"Yeah, they get really hot when the sun's on them for a while…" he explained. "I think I even still have a scar from it," he said holding his pinky up to Faith to show her his impressive battle wound. She laughed slightly as he waved his finger in her face. She glanced quickly over at Xander without making her smile disappear figuring that he wouldn't even see her looking but his eyes caught hers and she couldn't help but linger a little longer and pass him his own subtle smile. "I even had to go to the hospital…"
"Oh really," Faith said playing along. Xander leaned back on the wall watching her play with him. She grabbed his hand and kissed his pinky flashing him a quick wink as she did so. "All better."
---
"It's good to see you up and training," Giles states professionally as he walks into the workout room by Faith's bedroom. There isn't much there except for an oversized punching bag hanging from the ceiling and a few speakers scattered around the perimeter with tangled wires carelessly tossed on the ground. He watches her continue punching the bag viciously without even a slight acknowledgment of him. "Faith?" She punches continuously never even stopping for enough time to take a breath. "Faith…" Giles tries again finally walking towards the punching bag cautiously. He walks behind it so the bag is between him and Faith to avoid catching a stray punch. "Faith."
She throws in a few more vicious assaults and finally grabs the bag to steady herself closing her eyes and catching her breath as her body heaves from the intense session. She sighs loudly as she now tilts her head against the bag for steadiness then tilts her head back and finally looks up at the ceiling.
"Faith?"
"What?" she asks still panting and never looking down to him.
"A little intense for everyday training…"
"I like it intense."
"What's wrong?"
"Just cause a girl likes it rough something's gotta be wrong?"
"Faith-"
"I just wanna make sure I actually get some sleep tonight… with the whole lack of slaying thing I think I'm just a little hyper."
"You're not sleeping well?"
"Not really… didn't get much last night at all."
"Were you with Xander?"
"Why would I be with Xander?"
"Come off it, Faith. Lately you two have been spending the night together, and-"
"That's none of your business-"
"There's nothing wrong with that. It's fine that you have a thing with-"
"A thing!? There's-" she cuts herself off, "There's nothing wrong with it, but there's definitely something wrong with you-"
"Faith, stop lying to yourself maybe just a for a few moments here and-"
"I don't need this," she answers cutting him off and turning towards the door.
"Faith, you need to tell me if something is upsetting you… I need to know-"
"Yeah, you always need to fucking know… the same shit's bothering me that was since the day you met me… you didn't fix it then what the hell makes you think anything's going to be different this time around? Screw you and screw everyone else who thinks they have any clue on-"
"Don't be so bloody impossible!"
"Wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good reputation-"
"Of being a bloody self-loathing individual that's terrified of depending on someone?"
"I'm out of here," she answered quickly grabbing her sweatshirt off of the floor by the door.
"Faith, just stop it, would you?" he called following behind her closely. "Don't talk like that," he called as he followed her into her room.
"I can't take this anymore! I'm big a girl, Giles, I can take care of myself!"
*'I can take care of myself, Faith.'*
"Faith, no one is denying that you can-"
"I've been through more shit than you could even imagine, and I'm not one to march around singing about that shit like your princess Buffy, but I know what works for me and this isn't it-"
"Faith, why are you attacking like this?"
"I'm tired, okay?" she finally answers in a defeated tone.
"That's fine," he answers cautiously knowing she's not fighting anymore, but she's still being just as self destructive if not more so. "Faith, no one is against you, okay?"
"Whatever," she answers with a fake smile not hearing a word coming out of his mouth anymore. Giles sees how completely blocked out he is and sighs in frustration.
"Faith, I want you to-"
"Do something I'm not going to do," she answered cutting him off.
"God, I thought Buffy was stubborn…"
"Don't compare us," she snapped sharply. "There's no comparison."
"You're both more similar then either of you would like to admit-"
"Buffy hasn't been through half the shit I have…"
"She's been through a lot!"
"You're right," she answered defeated again. "My mistake."
"Faith," Giles began knowing she was just blocking him out again, "you two have led very different lives…"
"And as you said, her's has been so much harder than mine…"
"Faith! No one is picking sides here!"
"No, no one is ever picking sides, you're completely right."
"Don't yes me to death, Faith."
"You're right, I'm sorry," she answered cynically.
"I give up," he answered with a sigh.
"You gave up a long time ago."
"That's not true!"
"Of course not."
---
"So tomorrow we're starting the move," Robin said trying to spark conversation with Xander who was sitting on the couch staring off into space.
"Need a hand with anything?"
"Probably…"
"Just let me know."
"Okay." He paused a minute then began again, "How's Faith doing?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Hey," Kennedy greeted as she walked in.
"Hey," Robin answered, "did you finish packing up Dawn's stuff?"
"Yup, all done."
"Okay," he answered as he left the room.
"What's up?" she asked brightly towards Xander who could still pass as being asleep.
"Nothing."
"Faith's in a really bad mood."
"That sucks."
"Can you please talk to her?"
"Why do you think me talking to her would make things any better?"
"I just went to go talk to her and I could hear her and Giles screaming at each other from the hallway… I think you really need to talk to her."
"In case you haven't realized, there's no talking to Faith when she's like that."
"Yeah, I guess I was stupid to think you'd even bother to try."
"You must really hate me, Kennedy."
"I don' t… but God, I know how helpless she can make you feel, that's something she prides herself in being able to do, but why do you believe her?"
"She's very convincing…"
"You've got more power then she'll ever admit out loud…"
Kennedy's words spoke more volumes then he would ever admit and he knew she had to be right. He nodded to her with a soft smile crossing his features in approval to her words.
"She deals with a lot," he added softly after both sat there pensively. She nodded with a grin,
"You can help."
---
It was coming close to eleven at night and everyone excluding a few had gathered in the living room to watch some television. It had become a sort of unwritten tradition for them all to at least watch a few commercials together before heading off to sleep. There had been a lot of packing and planning so the crowd was quite subdued, not to mention the intense factor of Faith was absent. Xander sat at the couch quickly glancing back and forth from the television to the doorway hoping to see her walk past, already sure she wasn't going to come in and join them.
He deemed himself desperate for his incessant glances and a loser for not just going into her room to talk to her in the first place until he finally caught her heading towards the kitchen. He jumped to his feet and quickly walked after her into the kitchen.
"Hey," he said as she reached the fridge. She turned softly towards him quickly glancing up at him before returning her eyes to the ground,
"Hey."
"Faith… can we talk a minute?" She shrugged her shoulders visibly in response as she closed the fridge now holding three beers in her hand,
"Don't really think there's much to talk about…"
"Faith… I'm trying here, okay."
"Don't waste the energy on me," she answered surprisingly subdued as she began to walk out of the kitchen.
"It's not a waste!" he snapped angry that she would degrade herself like that.
"Believe me, it's a waste." She didn't even wait for a response – hell she didn't even look for one, she just turned and left the kitchen returning to her dark cave with beer in hand. With an audible sigh he turned to the fridge and also pulled out a beer knowing it was going to be far from his last that night. They had just bought the twelve pack and there were already five gone… he took the sixth with a raise of his eyebrows starting to realize how Faith was coping with everything.
---
He softly knocked at the door to her bedroom and received a quick,
"What?" He walked in but stayed right at the door,
"Am I still kicked out?" He looked over at her – she was sitting on her bed leaning against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest holding both a cigarette and a Corona in her right hand.
"Duh," she answered with a slight smile. He could tell looking at her and by the tone of her voice that it was more because she was a little drunk then because he had been forgiven.
"Oh well that's a relief," he joked. He smiled hoping to get more of a feel on where she was but it made a deep impact when she smiled softly then turned her head to the side looking sadly at her shoulder. "Faith?" he asked cautiously entering the bedroom.
"Come here," she offered softly holding her hand out towards him. He glanced over at the table next to her bed with two packs of cigarettes on it, one empty, the other with only half it's contents remaining, and five empty Corona's and a flask of Jack Daniels with about a third gone. After making a mental note that she was definitely very far away from sober he did as she said. This was not to say that in the twelve pack, he hadn't helped her finish it that night. He climbed onto the bed towards her and when he was close enough to her outreached hand he stopped and she touched his cheek softly. After looking deeply into his eyes he felt her other hand reach his hip and grab the waist of his jeans and his shirt and pull him towards her.
"Faith," he managed to get out before she pressed her lips against his strongly. She pulled him onto her and she slid down underneath him moaning as she pressed up against him. "Faith," he said quickly separating himself from her, "you're drunk…"
"And you're not?" she asked looking up at him with a smile. She reached up to the button on his jeans and quickly undid it.
"That's the point… I don't want to do this while both of us are-"
"At least you won't freak out… you're too fucking drunk to think – and I'm too fucking drunk to care even if you do…" she explained with way too much levity. "Come on," she urged as she leaned up and kissed his neck.
"Faith, not like this," he said pulling away from her again.
"Fine," she answered with a huff letting herself fall back onto the bed and just lie there staring up at him. He hovered above her looking contently down – he picked his hand up and moved a strand of hair from her face smiling softly at her. "I'm so fucking wasted," she admitted with a laugh.
"I know," he answered smiling brighter at her. "Why don't I lie down over here," he explained slowly as he climbed off of her and laid on his side next to her, "and you stay right there so I can just look at you all night," he added running his fingers gingerly through her hair.
"Yeah, look at me, that's a good one…"
"Yeah," he answered placing a soft kiss on her forehead, "I might need to hold you a little too…"
"Yeah," she answered gripping his shirt and pulling herself closer to him. He couldn't believe how good he felt just being able to be near her and hold her – he knew she wasn't sober, but knowing her alcohol tolerance, she was far from delirious. It meant a lot that she was both in a good mood wanting to be near him and she hadn't forced him to have to leave by being insistent on him putting out. She was definitely more sober than she was willing to admit to as she nestled closely to him. "I missed you last night," she muttered quietly. He stroked her hair,
"I missed you too."
---
I had closed my eyes hours before and probably could've slept through the entire night had everything remained the same. I had my arms wrapped tightly around her making it clear to anyone and everyone that I never wanted to let her go, no matter what. And as much as she would talk and as good as she was at hurting me, Kennedy was right, she never wanted me to let go either. She felt safe and warm and wanted. I was ripped from my sleep as she shot bolt upright in bed with a hysterical scream. I jumped up quickly sitting up next to her as she fought to catch her breath and she glanced quickly around the room.
"What's wrong?" I asked with concern putting an arm around her needing to remind her that she was still there since she was looking around like maybe she was somewhere else and didn't know how to get back. "Faith, it's okay…" I added with a squeeze. I was practically dumbfounded when she turned to me, still panting and close to hysterical and she grabbed me and pulled herself close to me burying her head on my chest and she started to cry. I pulled her close and held her strongly feeling a knot form in my throat at the sound of her tears.
"Xander…" she said finally lifting her head up. She draped one of her arms over my shoulder stroking my neck with her thumb concentrating carefully on it to try and calm herself down as though I were the one that needed calming. "I can't take it anymore…" she said finally shaking her head back and forth. "I can't do it…"
"Calm down," I answer her pushing her hair from her face. "It's okay…"
"I don't want to see them anymore… I don't want to think about it all… why won't it just go away? I'm so sorry and… and it just won't stop," she explains as tears start to streak down her face again. "Why won't it just stop!?" she asked again grabbing her head as though it were painful.
"It's okay," I tell her pressing my cheek against hers so I'm whispering into her ear as I hold her tightly.
"I can't keep seeing it…"
"Seeing what?"
"Everything… everything in my head that I don't want to see, it's all I see and-" she stops as her voice cracks painfully. "Hold me," she says in a voice that could've been mistaken for a whimper. "Lie to me," she says to me as I hold her tightly.
"What?" I ask softly.
"Tell me you love me."
"I wouldn't be lying." She nods softly to me as though she wishes I were lying, I suppose it's because it's easier for her to believe lies than to venture and believe in truths. I lie down on my back and pull her softly down on top of me; I hold her comfortingly around her back with one of my arms while the other strokes her hair. She lies there obviously deep in thought for quite a while before lifting her head so she's looking into my eyes as though she doesn't want to be lied to now, or at least if she is, she wants to know.
"Don't leave me…"
"I won't," I answer knowing how hard it was for her to say that. I can tell from her tone that that single fear is the root of everything – to be left is where all other aspects of her defensive nature spout from and are constantly fed since she feels constantly abandoned by everything. Her features soften in a way that shows a fear has been temporarily coaxed and she rests her head back on my chest tracing abstract figures with her fingertip on my chest.
"I've been thinking about my mom a lot," she says barely loud enough for me to hear. She continues tracing her finger along my chest and it seems to be a sort of nervous habit.
"Is that what woke you up?"
"Kind of…"
"What do you mean, kind of?"
"It was more what happened after, but…"
"After what?" I ask softly sure not to push too much. She doesn't answer and I ask, "did she leave you?" After a moment to process she answered in a tone that attempted to mask the amount of pain the memory had caused,
"In a way, I guess…"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's not really much to talk about…" she answered her voice becoming more and more anxious by the word.
"Okay," I soothed. "You seemed pretty upset when you woke up…"
*'Ricky's gonna make it all go away.'
'No, I think you're wrong… I'm outta here.'
'I don't think so.'
'You're hurting me…'
'Then stop trying to pull away.'
'Get away from me!'
'Better shut up, Faith, your dead mother might hear… don't worry, you're as fucking hot as they come, I won't last long… just keep quiet.'
'No! Don't fucking touch me!' *
"Yeah," she answered. "I don't want to talk about it…"
"Sure," I answer pained by the expression on her face. I can tell what she's hiding hurts her and it makes my throat sting at the thought. I kiss her tenderly on her forehead never feeling this way about anyone ever before. I love Anya and she made me happy and I loved being with her – but Faith seemed to complete my world. She needed me and I was actually that essential piece in something to make it work. Anya and her are very different from each other and so are my feelings for each of them, neither better than the other just very different. My throat tightens as I think of Anya while wrapped around someone else but I'm able to coax it down knowing that I still love Anya and there's nothing wrong with that. It's something I'm going to be battling with for a very long time, but looking up at Faith I know it's completely worth it.
"She killed herself," she says almost out of no where. I'm shocked that she just told me that and I almost can't believe she's telling me about her mother. Faith's never talked about anything negative from her past with anyone, only funny stories that she thought would be entertaining, and here she was telling me about the base of her entire life.
"What?" I say the words slipping out of my mouth before I can even think.
"I came home and found her in her bed with a knife…" her words were stuck and forced as she pushed each one out in separate breaths unable to get enough to get through a sentence, "she was still lying in her own blood and… and her boyfriend was there and he just shrugged it off like it was nothing and said she had a bad trip…"
"What happened after?" I ask remembering that she said that wasn't what had woken her, but what had happened afterwards.
"What?" she asks seeming confused.
"You said something happened after… what did he do to you?" I ask angrily realizing what happened but the thought being so awful that I needed to her tell me I was wrong.
"He grabbed me and…" she trailed off getting up off of the bed and walking towards the window as she continued slowly, "he said he was going to make it all better… he raped me…" she told me as I jumped off the bed to go over to her. I walked over quickly but cautiously and placed my hands on either side of her face making her look at me. "He raped me right outside of the room where my mother was fucking lying dead in a pool of blood! She fucking left me and nothing but bad things fucking happened to me after that."
"Shh…" I say pleading with her to calm down even though I can't make myself do so. I press my cheek against hers holding her close to me as though I could just make it all go away. I feel infuriated and I wish I could've protected her from everything that she went through, and I feel helpless since I couldn't. "I don't know what to say…" I admit finally looking at her. Her eyes are threatening to allow passage to the tears welled within them but she keeps herself from crying.
"I've never told anyone before… guess I have a good reason to be so screwed up, huh?" I can see small tears escaping from the sides of his eyes and he tries to hide it by wrapping his arms around me. He kisses me on my forehead again before pulling me into him closer. "You know, it's not very manly to cry…"
"I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again."
It's a lie, I know it is… but it's a lie I want to be true – I don't want to get hurt anymore. Breathing hurts because of all the pain inside of me; it's a lie that I venture to believe.