Part: 1
Author: Loes
Distribution: All characters that I didn't make up are property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Every person and company I forgot to mention, please don't sue me. I mean no harm.
Feedback: If you have time… Yes, please. I wanna know if I'm a terrible writer or otherwise.
Summary: Buffy has to make a life/death choice and timetravels to the past to enrichher judgement
Rating: I think everyone can read this, but I am not going to watch my language or anything. Not that I have bad language, but I can never know what anyone thinks of it, right? Anyway, there'll be no sex in it, so I guess that makes PG-13.
Spoilers: Buffy season 3 to season 5 and Angel episodes Five by Five and Sanctuary. And some general Buffy knowledge.
Note: Faith's POV
Note 2: Thoughts are in Italics. Dreams are between …
At the Northern California Women's Facility…
Blood,
there's blood everywhere. Allan Finch, the first human I killed, the man that turned me into a cold-blooded murderer, is looking at me with a shocked look in his eyes, as if realising that I killed him, his mouth a fraction openedlike he wants to say something, a hole in his chest with my stake in it, right where I put it. Blood is gushing from the wound. My hands are covered in it. It is thick and warm, but cooling off quickly, causing me to shiver.
The voice of my mother rings in my head. "I always knew you would end up like this. You are nothing but a murderous bitch. You are disgusting."
Buffy is closing in on me. I suddenly notice that she's wearing the same outfit as she was when fighting with me on the rooftop. Her accusing eyes cold as ice, cold as the blade of the knife she is carrying, my knife, the one the Mayor gave to me. She looks at the knife and then at me with a wicked grin and I know it is meant for me.
I try to run from her hard. I try to use all my strength and speed, but it's as if my slayer powers have left me and all my muscles feel tired. There is something holding me back, like an invisible barrier. I have only come as far as the end of the alley when Buffy passes me and stops right in front of me. She shows me the knife and I see my face mirrored in it. I think she did that on purpose.
Suddenly she draws the knife back and thrusts it right in my guts. She looks at me innocently, like what she just did was rightful, but also she's forcing me to forgive her, because she's just the most innocent girl and she can never do anything wrong. "You deserve this, Faith. You killed a man." I know what will come next. This is how it goes every time again and again. "I don't care."
…don't care...
...care...
I wake up with those words still echoing in my head. I am breathing heavily and soaked in my own sweat. My legs are entangled in part of my sheet and the rest of it is hanging over my bed, slumped on the concrete floor.
"Shut it over there." A guard's voice yells. I don't know what time it is exactly, but it must be somewhere between late night and early morning. Every single night since I am in this rat hole called prison I've been having this nightmare and every night when I wake up I can't sleep again. But that would be a good thing, because I deserve it for all that I've done to B and her friends and for the people I killed and tortured. I deserve to feel all the pain I caused to the world fivefold and even that wouldn't be enough as my punishment.
When I was at Angel's and Buffy yelled at me and she yelled at Angel because of me, her words hit me hard. She was so right all along. That's when I decided that I would turn myself in to the police. I can't be good. I know I've tried, but the only one who ever got gratitude was Buffy, and I, I was ignored, just Buffy's little sidekick, second best. Buffy only came to my filthy and poor motel room when her mom sent her out on a pity tour or when she wanted to patrol with me. Mostly, she just let me out of everything that happened on the hellmouth. She excluded me from the secret meetings she had with her little 'Scooby Gang'. When I killed Allan Finch and I saw in Buffy's eyes that she thought I had done it on purpose, I snapped. If I couldn't be good, then I'd be evil. And I truly was. It seems like the only thing I was ever good at and destined for was hurting the people around me. I let the Mayor seduce me with his nice words and expensive presents. I really loved him like a second father and I really thought he loved me back, but then even he told me I was nothing without him. As much as that anyway. He just used me to do his dirty jobs. He made me hurt Buffy even more.
Now, I am not evil anymore, but still not good either. How could a person who has done what I have done ever be good?
I will try anyway. When I saw the hurt on Buffy's face I decided that from now on everything that I will do will be for her and every form of torture I will have to go through I will go through for her. I am in this place, because she said that I belonged here. She told me that if I'd apologise to her, she would beat me to death. I would have let her. But if I can't tell her how sorry I am, why would I ever speak again? So I don't. I know that Buffy hates me. Her friends hate me too, as much became clear when I was in her body. They know that I can break out of here anytime. What they don't know is that I won't. They'd rather see me off their precious little earth. So I don't eat. I just wait for my end to come. It is as simple as that.
After hours of waiting the breakfast bell rings. A little platesized door in the back of my cell opens and a plate with food is shoved inside. I bet they've got the kitchen behind that wall, so they can deliver everybody's food without moving their lazy butts. I look at the plate and the gooon it and I wonder if anyone eats this. They can't blame me that I don't. Even after a night of slaying I would throw this down the gutter Hungry and horny be fucked. I leave the plate right where it is, so that after half and hour, when the bell rings again, they can just take it right back. I wonder if they even notice that I never eat it.
Every day I go through the same schedule. Breakfast, shower, working out, lunch, working out, dinner, sleeping time. The rest of the time is spent in the cells. In my cell are a bed and a desk with a chair. On the desk lies a book with blank pages and a pen. They keep hoping that I am going to start a journal in it for them to understand the big ol' secrets of me and my psycho ways.
Yeah right.
I've been getting thinner. In the shower I can feel the eyes on me. The others all think I'm weak. They whisper and laugh behind my back, but I don't care about them. I can feel that I'm getting weaker too. Slayer healing is doing it's best, but I know it'll be short till nothing will be able to save me ever again. Nearing my death certainly makes me deeper, huh?
The only problem is B. I can't just die on her, without apologising to her first. I just wish she would visit me, if only once, and even for yelling at me. I wouldn't even care if she'd beat me to a bloody pulp. She should never forgive me, but she should know how sorry I am.
But we all know that's never gonna happen, right? Even if she would come, I don't think I'd be able to say sorry to her. Every time I try to say something, my big mouth takes over. I just lose all control. That is what happened with B too. It was easier to push her away and hate her than to accept her kindness and be vulnerable.
My end is real near now. I can feel it. Sitting and walking, moving at all, hurts. I have never felt so physically weak, not even before… I'm glad that Buffy doesn't see me like this. I look like shit. I still need to contact her though.
I have an idea.
I'll write her a letter. They won't let us send any mail from here, so when it's done I'll hide it in my cell. Then, when I am dead and they clean out my cell, maybe somebody will be kind enough to deliver it to her. I'll write her address on it.
I get to the desk and start to write.
Part: 2
Note: Buffy's POV
Note 2: Thoughts are in Italics. Dreams are between … .
Two weeks later…
Looking out the window can be real fun sometimes. There is this bird that just keeps flying around in the garden. It's very 'fascinating', that's what Giles would say. Okay, I'll admit it. I'm bored as hell.
The doorbell rings. "I'll get it!" Dawn yells as she pounds down the stairs. I roll my eyes. Some time later she enters my room with a big envelope. "Dawn, have you ever heard of knocking?" "You better be nice to me. I have mail of yours. Now I'm gonna read it first. It's probably nothing interesting anyway. Here says it's from Northern California Women's Facility. What's that?"
Oh my god, Faith.
"Give that to me, Dawn. It's important." I pull it out of her hands. "Aaw! I'm telling mom. Mom!" She walks away and I close the door behind her. I wonder what's in the envelope. What if Faith broke out of prison? What if she's on the way to Sunnydale right now? I just wish she would leave me alone for once.
KNOCK-KNOCK
"Yeah?" The door opens and my mom comes in with Dawn right behind her. "Buffy…" I cut her off. "I got mail from Faith." I show her the envelope. She visibly flinches. "Dawn, go to your room." "Fine," Dawn mumbles. I hear the door to her room slam shut. My mom looks at me caringly and says "Buffy, whatever is in that envelope, I know that you can handle it. You have always been the stronger slayer." She walks away and closes my door.
I open the envelope. Inside, there's a formal looking letter and a written letter on linedpaper. I unfold the formal one and start to read.
Miss Summers,
I write you to inform you that Faith is in a coma.
In her cell we found a letter from her, addressed to you. You'll find it in the envelope.
We need you to come here ASAP.
Eric Johnson, Northern California Women's Facility
How can Faith be in a coma? Has she been in a fight? Nobody is as strong as to be able to hurt her. It just doesn't make any sense. And why would Faith write me? The last time I checked we weren't exactly on good terms with each other, certainly not enough to be pen pals. I wonder what she had to tell me.
The letter is written on prison paper. The ink is brushedout on some spots, like the paper has been wet. Would she have…? No, Faith doesn't cry.
B.
You getting this letter can only mean one thing. I'm dead. You must be so relieved. I guess you're wondering why I wrote you. Being in jail, obviously I've had time to think. I want to apologise to you. I figured you couldn't 'beat me to death' through a letter. I know you're probably gonna just throw this letter out anyway, but please hear me out first.
I could say that I never meant to hurt you, but that wouldn't be the truth. I liked you, even thought you were perfect. You had everything that I didn't have: a loving mother, friends who loved and supported you, a watcher, even money. You didn't need me, but I needed you, even if I said otherwise. I wanted to be you so badly. I thought it wasn't fair that you had everything, when I had nothing. Killing Allan Finch was an accident, Buffy, I swear. And I did care. But killing a human being does something to you. I was confused and it was easier to just pretend like I didn't care than to face what I did. After that, everything just went downhill. I wanted to hurt you as bad as I was hurt. I had so much rage in me. I know now that I was stupid. You tried to help me and I hurt you for it. You had every right to stab me. I know you hate me.
As I write this I am crying. Fucking crying like a baby. I never cry. I'm scared, Buffy, really scared. I know I'm gonna die and the only thing I hate about it is the fact that I won't ever see you again.
I am sorry, Buffy, for everything that happened. Please know that and know that I will die without having hard feelings towards you, if you even care. So, I guess this is our farewell…
I love you,
Faith
Faith has tried to kill herself? I never knew that she was so unhappy. How could I have? She always hid her emotions from everybody. Now she says that she is sorry, but is sorry enough? I have to go there, though. I want to know what she did to herself. No matter how much I may hate her, I don't want her to die.
After saying goodbye to my mom and to Dawn I got in my mom's car for the long ride to LA. I thought about stopping by Angel's first, but then I remembered the last time I was there. We fought over Faith. I don't want to do that again.
So now I am sitting in the car, parked at the prison parking lot. I don't want to go in there, because I am scared of what I will find. Finally I get out of the car and drag myself inside.
An armed man in uniform approaches me. "Can I help you, miss?" "My name is Buffy Summers. I'm here about Faith." "Guess you're wrong here then, because this is a prison. There's a church across street though." He laughs. Real funny. "No, she's a person. Faith is her name." "Does this …Faith… have a last name?" He drags out the one syllable of Faith's name. "I don't know her last name. I got this letter asking for me to come here. She's a prisoner here and she's in coma." I show him the letter. Another guy in uniform approaches me. "Buffy Summers? You can follow me."
He takes me to an empty office. "Hi, my name is Eric Johnson." He shakes my hand. "I see you got my letter." He looks young, not much older than me. I nod. "I'll be honest with you. Faith's situation is bad. She's in a coma and it doesn't look like she is going to wake up any time soon. It may even be that she'll never wake up from it. She hasn't been eating anything ever since she came here, two month's ago. Normally, people would die after about a month of starving themselves, but Faith seems exceptionally strong. I read in her medical file that she has been in a coma before. She was suffering from a stab wound?" One I gave her, but they don't need to know that. "Yeah, I heard."
"I called you here, because I couldn't find any family of Faith's and nobody has visited her. If it wasn't for her letter, we wouldn't have found you either. Are you a friend of hers?" "Yeah, sort of." What else can I say? I used to think she was my friend and now we're mortal enemies? "Seeing as you're the only one who seems to know her, you have to make the decision. Faith is a murderer, Miss Summers. Many people would be glad to see her dead, as harsh as it sounds. Until now she has been kept alive by an infuse. You have to decide if we should keep doing that or pull out the plug, if you know what I mean." I gasp. Would they do that? "I know, it's a hard decision to make and I'm sorry to bother you with it." I want to see her. "Can I see her?" "Sure, I'll lead you to her room."
I follow him out of the office and through the building to another door. He opens it and I go in. "I'll leave you alone with her for a while. I'll be back." I look up from my little world of denial called the floor and I see a big bed with small figure in it. I walk up to the head of the bed and I sit down on a chair next to it. I look at her again. The girl in the bed doesn't look like Faith. Not like the Faith I know anyway. She looks even paler and definitely thinner than the first time she was in a coma. Seeing Faith like this is scary. She is shockingly thin. I can't believe she hasn't eaten anything for so long. Did she do that for me? She thought I would be happy if she died, and so did I, but now it's just confusing. Killing her would lift the threat of her ever coming back to Sunnydale to try and kill us all. It wouldn't be the first time. But on the other hand I have this nagging little voice called conscience. If you let them pull out the plug, technically you would be her murderer. It would make you just like her. She is a human being, after all. I envision a little angel sitting on my shoulder telling me all this. Another figure appears on my other shoulder. It's a devil. But wasn't that what she intended to do herself? Die? You would only finish what she started herself.
I try to shake these thoughts out of my head. I take one of Faith's hands. "What should I do, Faith? Help me out here." Right after I say this, a bright light blinds me and I drop Faith's hand. A woman appears in the light. "This should make your decision less hard." Huh? What is she talking about? I close my eyes and pinch myself. Maybe this whole thing is a dream. When I open my eyes again I'm no longer in the room. I am standing in an alley. What's happening?
Part: 3
Note: Buffy's POV
Note 2: Thoughts are in Italics. Dreams are between … .
I'm in alley. How did I get here? More importantly, why am I here? I look around. I don't recognise my surroundings, but don't alleys always look the same? It's filthy and it stinks, the way alleys do. On the walls there are posters announcing events. One of them reads 'Boston's greatest bands, 09-08-90, tickets available NOW'1990? That's an old poster. Now that I look more closely at the other posters, I see that all of them have dates similar to the first one. That's strange. Maybe this place is forgotten or something. Where the hell am I, anyway?
Suddenly I hear footsteps coming my way. They are barely audible, so either the person is light-footed, or it's a kid. He or she seems to be running from someone with louder footsteps. Quickly I hide behind some trashcans. I'll be able to see everything from here.
A little girl comes running into the alley. She hides behind the trashcans, just like me. She doesn't seem to notice me, however. A man with a moustache enters the alley a few seconds after. "Where did you go? You're gonna pay for this, you little thieve!" I look to my right and I see that the girl is holding something under her shirt. She looks poor. She is dressed in a faded black T-shirt and jeans. Both have holes in them and look too big for her small body. I think she's about 7 or 8 years old. Why would a girl so little steal something?
As the man rummages through some stuff and looks behind a few things, the girl looks really scared, but he doesn't find her. You can't see our hiding place from where you enter the alley, so the girl must've been here before. It's just not right. Little girls should be wearing colourful clothes and playing with their friends or toys. They shouldn't be in a dirty alley, hiding, because they stole something. My heart reaches out to the little girl.
The man is gone now, but she still looks a bit scared. I know that face, those dark brown eyes and hair of the same colour.
FLASH
A door opens and a dead man falls through. A vampire with a big scar over his eye and cloven feet stands behind it. Faith is standing before me, shrinking with fear.
FLASH
That's it! She looks a lot like Faith. Maybe this girl is her kid sister. It's not like she ever told me anything about her family life. The resemblance between them is striking. She's even picking up on Faith's bad habits, like stealing. Faith is a bad influence on everyone, even me. But hey, she's in a coma now, and it's my decision if she will ever be a bad influence on anyone ever again… Oh my god, what am I thinking? I can't just off her, because she is evil. Anyway, this is not what I need to be thinking about now. Hush, thoughts!
The girl still hasn't noticed me. I try talking to her. "Hey, are you ok?" She doesn't react. "He's gone now. You're safe." Nothing. I reach out to softly touch her shoulder, but my hand goes right through her. That either means that she's a ghost, or… what is happening to me? Am I dead again and I just didn't notice? No, that's stupid. I do know how I got here and why.
It kind of makes sense. The strange woman who zapped me here told me she was gonna make my decision easier, a decision about Faith's life. The little girl sitting next to me is related to Faith, I'm sure of that now, so I'm supposed to watch or something.
In the meantime the girl has overcome her fear and is coming out from the hiding place and walking away.
I should follow her.
While walking, the girl is looked at in a gross way a couple of times by men old enough to be my father. This isn't the sort of neighbourhood you'd want to grow up in. It's not even the sort of neighbourhood you can walk around in at night, I think.
Suddenly the girl turns right, into another small alley. At the far end is a door, the entrance to an apartment building. Does she live here? It fits with the Faith connection, but in no way it fits with my idea of a good childhood. When I was little I used to dance home with a big smile on my face and when I got there my mom used to have tea and cookies ready.
I follow the girl through the door and up the stairs. The farther she gets, the more reluctant she seems to go on. After climbing what seems like forever she stops at a door. She removes her hands from her pockets and breaths heavily. She opens the door and goes inside. I follow her in. I thank her silently for keeping the door open long enough to let me pass through, because I don't feel quite ready to test if I can actually walk through stuff or do any other spooky things.
The first thing I notice when I get in is the smell of booze. The look of this apartment is similar to Faith's motel room in the old days. It looks poor and badly treated.
Finally the girl closes the door. Unfortunately for her, it squeaks. She tiptoes through the living room to a door on the backside of the room. She stops and just when she's about to open the door, a rough voice, drenched with a thick Bostonian accent, stops both the girl and me in our tracks.
"Didn't think I'd hear you, huh? You little bitch! I was worried sick about you. Where have you been?" The voice belongs to a tall, thin, dark-haired woman, obviously drunk.
"Nowhere," the girl lies. She's looking at the ground.
"Don't you fucking lie to me. What's that under your shirt?" She roughly pulls the girl's hands away and an apple comes rolling out from under her shirt. "Where did you get this?" The girl keeps quiet.
"Answer me!"
"I found it," she lies again.
The woman slaps her daughter on the back of her head. "Go to your room. I don't want to see you here. You're a wicked girl. You're gonna end up just like your daddy."
The girl drags herself into her room. Again I follow her. Just before she closes the door, she looks back with tears in her eyes. Her mother doesn't seem moved. Instead, she takes a big sip from her bottle of whiskey and faints on the couch.
The girl's room isn't larger than able to fit a bed and a closet. I hear scratching and squeaking noises.
"S'okay now, Doggie, I'm here." She pulls a box out from under her bed. She opens it and inside lies a puppy. The puppy looks bad, very bad. It has a wound on its stomach and it's very thin. It paws at her with its little claws. "I don't have anything for you. Mommy took the apple I got for you. Now sleep." She closes the box and puts it under her bed again.
She lifts her mattress and from under it she picks up a little book. It's pink and on front it says in shiny golden letters 'Have Faith'. It must be her diary. She clutches the thing to her chest and sits down on her bed. As she rocks back and forth, she cries silently.
I wish I could comfort this girl. I sit behind her on the bed and put my arms around her. To my own surprise I can actually touch her, but again she doesn't notice me. It doesn't matter anymore, because she has stopped rocking. She opens her diary and I wonder if I should watch with her. The facts that I this could help me figure out what's happening, and that I don't even know the girl and thus it won't hurt her if I read, persuade me to do so. The words on the first page shock me however. In neat, childish handwriting is written:
This is the diary of Faith, 27 October 1982.
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