Disclaimer: BtVS is/was in Joss Whedon's god-like hands. I merely borrow his divine creations for introspective femmeslashy-subtext fun.
Warning: Just the aforementioned "femmeslashy subtext fun." Rejoice in the girl love always, again I say rejoice. Also, this is 100-word drabble, so expect shortness.
A/N: This is me experimenting with drabble and wanting people to love Faith. She is so broken and neglected. Love her, please.
/Clutch/
Faith had once had a doll. She'd been perfect; cute clothes, cute smile, sleek blonde hair, gleaming glass eyes that never cried.
On the worst nights, when the covers didn't drown out the shouting, Faith would hug the doll to her chest so fiercely that she'd leave tiny six-year-old nail marks in the doll's poseable arms.
Now, Faith was a woman of power, and the doll was long gone.
Laying in her new bed, listening to the Mayor's jaunty whistle fade, Faith wished more than anything that she could snuggle up against her again and pretend everything would be alright.
