A. N. First and foremost, Happy Holidays everyone! Mine were fantabulous. Still are, as they are not quite finished yet. Yes, fun memories, and a gentle reminder to hunt down the person who took that picture of me doing the Christmas Conga... Ah, no matter. I've still got Elvis' Christmas on repeat and a whole lot of fruitcake to enjoy...
A. N. 2. I've finally managed to complete this chapter after wrestling with myself over the kind of chapter I was going for. "And in this corner, weighing in at 1800 words, Songfic Chap! He'll be going against Angst Chap, weighing in at a mere 1500 words, but don't let that fool you folks! He's got a mean right hook!" So I ended up going for both, but I'm not too sure about it. It's not dark, but it's not daisies and candy canes either. Anyhoo, enjoy.
I just get off the phone with Giles, when I head upstairs to find Faith to let her know. Let her know. God.
"Hey Babe. Just told Giles about Terry. How we think she's the prophesized child. That kid who's supposed to be Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Princess Di and She-Rah all rolled into one? Yeah, that one. Giles thought Spike was a Slayer, but I think he's going to figure it out. He's a smart man, that Giles."
The stairs creak as I walk on each step with a weighed march, trying hard not to make a sound. It's funny, but since Terry's been born, almost a year now, some of my Slayer powers have weakened. I didn't let Giles know and I haven't officially told Faith, but she's figured out that my stamina has worn down a little bit.
Anyway, I find Faith in Terry's room, silently watching over our daughter from her seat in the rocking chair, by the crib. She does this every night after she comes home from work. Just sits there, rocking back and forth with some soft Paul Simon playing in the background, engulfed by Terry's stillness. I've joined her on occasion, and it's very soothing, just listening to her breathe and watching her sleep.
But there's no Paul Simon playing tonight. Instead, there's some really slow Bruce Springsteen song softly blaring from the sound system.
Once I dreamed we were together again baby you and me / Back home in those old clubs the way we used to be / We were standin' at the bar it was hard to hear / The band was playin' loud and you were shoutin' somethin' in my ear / You pulled my jacket off and as the drummer counted four / You grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the floor / You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin' slow / And as I pulled you tighter I swore I'd never let you go.
"Hey."
I softly walk in, and sit on the floor, by the chair, in between her legs. She's dressed all in black, her work attire, but tonight I notice that her left pant leg is ripped and that her blouse is more than a little wrinkled. She smells strongly of beer and stale smoke, and my nose crinkles up involuntarily. You've been out again, have you?
"Did you patrol after work?" I ask, barely a whisper over the gentle music.
"Yeah." Something about her voice tells me that something is wrong, and it hits me that it's been like this for a good while now, and I haven't bothered to notice until tonight.
There's an odd silence that settles between us as I gather whatever I need to let her know about my long distance conversation with Giles, and thankfully, it lasts long enough for me to get my bearings in order, and for her to keep staring at Terry's sleeping form. Then Terry moans a little in her sleep, breaking the calm, and giving me an excuse to start talking.
"I called Giles."
She doesn't answer; just keeps rocking softly.
"About Terry." I explain, as if she didn't understand. "He was… He's going to look into it."
"Did you tell him about Drew's DNA test?" She finally says, her voice tired and scratchy.
I don't answer and she knows that I didn't. She sighs, probably disappointed and it makes me cringe.
"I will." I manage, hoping that it's good enough for her. "I'll tell him."
Two weeks after Teresa was born, Faith took me aside and gave me a stern glare and a broken smile.
"Those eyes, Buffy. Those eyes. Who do they belong to?" She asked, hands in her pockets and feet jittery.
I didn't hesitate when I answered, and I was rather proud of myself.
"You." I said, closing the gap between us and roughly plunging my hand into the front of her jeans. "They're yours."
Her eyes narrowed and she kissed me hard and long. My hand was still in her jeans when she pulled back and said, "Prove it."
Faith's voice brings me back to the present as she painfully exhales my name.
"Buffy."
"Yeah?"
The chair stops rocking and I can hear the gears in her head turning.
"I quit." She starts, and I don't interrupt. "I quit Riciollis."
Riciollis. You quit? You quit the bartending manager position at the best restaurant in town?
"Tonight was my last night. I gave my two weeks notice, well," She says, "Well, two weeks ago. Tonight was my last shift." She repeats.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She ignores my question and the chair starts rocking again as her leg twitches up and down.
"I'm going back. I talked to Rob and Willow. I'm going back." She says, her voice getting stronger by each word that escapes her lips.
"What?"
"I'm going back to the Council." She explains slowly, as if I was a child.
"But… but we quit." I can barely understand where this is coming from. Barely. Barely, 'cause I know that this has been coming. For quite some time now. I've just been to blind and stupid to pay any attention to it.
"I need it Buffy. I need to go back. It makes me who I am." She says. "It makes you who you are too, but I guess it's stronger for me. It's a thirst I need to quench."
It's like I've built a castle and I can't even live in it. I used to feel like that. Before Terry. Before Faith.
"But we go patrolling. Almost every night."
She starts to laugh, but softly, still aware and careful not to wake Teresa up.
"Yeah. Patrolling in Lenwood." She says between chuckles. "Where we're lucky if we get two vamps in a week."
I think my eyes are crying and they haven't told my brain just yet, 'cause my cheeks are feeling wet, but the sting isn't present.
"But I don't want to move." Man, I probably sound like twelve year old. "I want to stay here." Pathetic.
I hear Faith inhale sharply and I know what she's going to say before she does. Then stay. Is this really happening? Is she really breaking my heart? Are we really… becoming that family?
"Then stay."
Time stops as she says this. Then stay. Then stay. Then stay. It sounds like a broken record as it echoes in brain.
"Vi was attacked by a demon who demanded to see her. So Vi tells him that she's her, and he laughs and says "Not you, Slayer. Your child." It's started, B. It's started." She explains. "Terry'll be safer if I'm there, in the fold, getting my hands on whatever comes along."
I feel my head shake as I'm trying desperately to understand everything she's saying. But it's a battle I'm losing. I just can't grasp the idea that Teresa would be safer with her away, in an other continent.
"She's safer with both of us here. To protect her. Both of us. Here." I stress the last part, hoping that Faith'll understand that I can't lose her, but a small part of me knows it's hopeless and that she's right. We'd be so fucking vulnerable B. Terry would be so damn… helpless. All three of us would be.
Well I saw you last night down on the avenue / Your face was in the shadows but I knew that it was you / You were standin' in the doorway out of the rain / You didn't answer when I called out your name / You just turned, and then you looked away like just another stranger waitin' to get blown away.
We both stay silent for a while, as there's something consistent hitting the window before I realize that it's raining outside. Pathetic fallacy is something that I can't do. The song ends and I'm on Fire picks up where Point Blank left off, and I realize that I'm so fucking angry.
Angry at the rain, angry with The Boss, angry with Giles… angry with Faith and angry with myself. For not having seen this coming. For being so… blinded.
"But…" So many things that I could say to try to make her stay. "Don't you want me?" Don't you love me?
Faith gets up, walks over me, and turns around to face me. Her eyes are unreadable, but somewhere in the murk, there's a flicker of desire and need. Her lips, usually full, are painfully thin and set in a line of hopelessness.
At night, I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head / Only you / You cool my desire / Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire.
She reaches down and pulls me up by my arms, and when my eyes are level with hers, we just stay there, staring into each other's eyes as she begs me to let her go. To understand. Why can't you understand, Buff? This should be so easy to… comprehend. Why are you making this so fucking hard? And I finally come to the realization that I will never fully understand that, despite the similarities, Faith and I are completely different.
"More than…" She starts, and ends up kissing me savagely on the mouth. There's passion there, but it's… fervor less. I can taste the alcohol on her tongue and it makes me drunk with desire.
She pulls away and leans her forehead against mine as I close my eyes.
"More than anything." She manages, and she sinks to her knees and starts to cry. Her arms lace around my thighs and she buries her face in my lap, drenching my pants with her tears.
We stay like that for a long time before she snaps out of it, gets back to her feet, and leads me to our bedroom.
My eyes open slowly as I wake up, feeling like one big raw nerve, aching everywhere, with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness covering me from head to toe. The bed is empty save for her scent and me. She's gone. She just left me with an empty reminder that she was here last night. Take care of her for me.
I slowly manage to get up, and I notice that she forgot her pack of cigarettes on the bed table. Tears come to my eyes as my hands grab the carton and as my fingers open it up, the tears stream down my cheeks. And suddenly, I've got a Lucky Strike propped in my mouth and a lit match right in front of it.
As if on cue, Teresa starts to cry in the next room, and the match makes contact with the end of the cigarette, inaugurating my days as a smoker and as a single mom.