A. N. Well, okay. Let's screw the spin off... for now. This is totally blind on my part, I still have no idea where I'm going with this insipid drivel. I write and see where it takes me, so I'm having fun.
A. N. TT is still WIP, no worries there, I just needed a break.
Jess5x5: Thanks dude! Love the responses! They make these things happen!
Exactly 8 years ago, two days from today.
The air in the bar is stale and sour, smelling like unwashed drunk travelers. Some would call it unpleasant, but I'm finding it quite refreshing. The lights are dimmed, and the Budweiser sign's flashing on and off in a blue neon glow.
The bar itself is empty save for me, sitting on a stool, and the bartender wiping the counter. He's been giving me the eye since I walked in, and I think I would give him a shot if he had been fifteen years younger, got rid of the wig, and brushed his teeth once in awhile. But let's not go making rash decisions.
The jukebox in the corner is playing tunes on scratched records, and it makes most of the songs I've heard so far skip once in awhile. The guys sitting in the booth next to it have been feeding it quarters for the past half hour, choosing to play Donna Fargo and Johnny Paycheck's hits over and over again. When Take This Job and Shove It comes on for the third time, the bartender looks up from the stained counter and gives me a toothless smile.
"Them guys yonder jus' got fired." He says in a scratchy, smoky voice.
I smile back and finish my pint of MGD, and slam my glass on the counter noiselessly.
"They're not the only ones."
He looks at me and squints, showing crows feet around his blue eyes. Maybe he's wondering what I'm doing in a dump like this.
"You's lookin' fer a job?" He says, tilting his head a little, making the wig slip off his dome to the right.
Maybe not.
"Not right now." I say.
He tries not to look disappointed as he turns to the beer fridge.
"Give me another."
I just see him nod and go about filling up a clean glass with amber liquid when I hear a chopper outside. Another biker? Doubt it. Biker's don't usually give me vibes like the one I'm feeling right now. I bet Willow sent her.
The door swings open and she swaggers in. Ripped jeans, Blundstone boots, black worn leather coat, and hair from a shampoo commercial. I don't look up when she takes the seat next to mine, and I know she doesn't spare me another look either.
The bartender doesn't ask her what she wants to drink, and she doesn't ask him for anything. He just gives her a shot of JD and a pint of Guinness to wash it down.
"Thanks, Tommy." She says, downing the shot.
We've been here what? Like a week? We've been here a week and she's already a regular. Sometimes I wonder.
"Watcha doin' here, Babe?" She says, finally breaking the looming silence between us.
I shrug and down the rest of my beer. I guess she accepts that for what it is.
"I hear Spike is flying over after the prophesy was realized." She announces suddenly. "Bastard stole Angie's thunder."
This gets my attention. During the first week, nothing happens. Last two hours that I'm not there and something this big comes up.
"What?" I finally decide to exercise my vocal chords, and as a reward, I get a smile and two dimples.
"Ain't that wild? He just Szechwaned and bam! His old heart is beating again."
My turn to smile.
"Shanshu." I correct, and she shrugs in indifference.
Somehow, Spike being human isn't a big shock to me. After his soul, I never really thought of him as a vampire. He had too many emotions and human traits for me to think otherwise. And after he resurfaced in L. A., he stopped surprising me. Him being human now just makes it less surprising, and removes some charm to his status.
Faith stares into my eyes, trying to read my thoughts. She's got this crazy theory that she can actually do that. Well, not so crazy 'cause she actually can, but I don't let her know that.
"You're not happy." She says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. She downs her Guinness and magically, another shot and pint appear in front of her.
"Faith, if you're here to bring me back, you're wasting your time. I'm not. Tell Giles and Willow I'm sorry. I'm done."
"Look B. I'm not here to bring you back."
I give her a look that screams "Bullshit."
"Okay, fine, Will asked me to do what I could. Truth is Buffy, you can do what you goddamn please." She says, lighting a Lucky Strike. "I just thought you should know about Blondie." She expels a thread of smoke in the air, and it dances along the flashing neon Budweiser sign.
She catches me staring at her, and she slides her pack of cigarettes over to me. I make a face and slide them back. She just nods and pockets them back into her jacket. Then she turns on her stool to face the three guys in the booth next to the jukebox.
"Hey Stan. What's with the Billy Ray Cyrus marathon?"
Achy Breaky Heart is playing. I must be really out of it for me not to notice crap like that.
"Me an' the boys jus' got fired, is what." Stan says. He's got this blue farmer's cap on, and a five o'clock shadow. I can't see much more 'cause they're sitting in the back, hiding in the shadows of the dimmed lights.
Faith nods as if it explains everything.
"Yeah, well I just quit, so knock it off." She says, in a menacing tone.
Stan gets up immediately, clearly intimidated, and feeds the jukebox another quarter, and seconds after, Dolly Parton comes on, belting out the lyrics to 9 to 5. Not better, but I guess he tried. Wait. What did she just say?
Faith gives me this funny look. Like there's something wrong with my face.
"What's wrong B? You look like a deer caught in headlights."
"You quit?" I manage to say.
She just smirks, and flicks some ash into the nearby ashtray.
"Well yeah. What? I can't just let you quit and leave me there." She says. "We're the Chosen Two, 'member? Besides, can't let you have all the fun yourself."
I blink and find myself staring into her eyes, disbelievingly. She brings a hand out in front of me and waves it in front of my eyes.
"The paralyzed deer look doesn't fit you, Babe."
I frown and scrunch up my nose as only I can. Shit. She just quit. Shortly after I did. Poor Giles.
"What did Giles say?"
"'Bout you or about me?"
I nod, and she arches her eyebrows as she butts her cigarette into the ashtray.
"Don't know, and I don't fucking care either. He's got Ken and Vi there, along with Will, Rob, Dawn and Drew. And with Xander leaving with Ry soon... He'll manage."
"Yeah. I guess." My answer is adamantly short and just by the look she gives me, she knows.
"Don't you start feeling guilty on me Buffy. They'll do fine without us." She coughs a little, making Tommy look up from his hunting magazine, and points at my glass, then hers.
He nods in acknowledgment and refills our glasses with our respective beverages.
"What about the prophesized child of the Slayers? Any new light on that?" I ask slowly.
Ah. The prophesy. A child shall be born from two Slayers. Or something nonsensical of the sort. The very reason I quit Giles and Robin's new Council, only but two hours ago. Having Giles and Willow wonder about male Slayers just unnerved me so badly... Something just clicked in my brain, and I knew that I had had enough. Enough of everything.
Faith shrugs and lights another cigarette.
"Nuthin'." She mumbles with the cigarette perched on her lips.
"Why do you smoke?" It's random and I don't really care. After everything I've been through today, the prophesy, my resignation, Spike's transformation and Faith's compliance to leave, it makes sense to me to ask such a stupid question.
Faith looks into my eyes again, and does themind reading thing. She nods as if she's confirming something.
"Guilty pleasure." She says.
What I say next surprises us both.
"Guilty pleasure? Faith. It's called porn."