March 2000

"So in the end it was all just this big spell so we'd all think he was cool. After that he just got really embarrassed and left town. Weird though, huh? That I'd think I wasn't strong." You bite your tongue and eye her raised brows, "And ok, that sounded really big-headed? I'm not always strong. Sometimes I'm really… useless…?"

She doesn't take the bait but slips back into eyeing you impassively. You'd felt closer to her when she was unconscious. Now, separated by a thick wall of glass, she is resentfully silent.

Two week ago you'd told her to shut up as she pleaded with you. Her voice jabbing you in the gut, a painful annoyance so different to the feeling you'd had upon learning she was awake. You'd been shocked, scared and exultant, a bubble forming in your heart with nervous devotion. You'd craved to be close to her. But she hit your mother, she slept with your boyfriend, she ran to your ex. Not you. She'd burst your bubble, sure, she'd stolen your body… but she didn't want you. She didn't need you. She didn't…

"You have to speak some time."

Arriving in LA you'd been confused, angry, willing to do anything to get her to look at you. And she had. But you didn't want it any more. Those weren't the right words or looks or actions. She was sorry because she'd hurt you. But sorry for the 'hurt' part. You could have been anybody on her list of past crimes. It was Angel who's shoulder she cried on.

"I saw Angel's name in the visitor logs. That's good. Do you talk to him?"

You don't need her to answer. You can imagine. They have their cosy little chats and they don't even bother to laugh at you, to talk about how stupid you are. They probably don't even think of you. She'd tried to apologise, you said no and she'd given up.

So damn simple.

It took your mother to remind you that 'sorry' was what you wanted to hear. Arriving home fuming you'd beaten the hell out of almost everything in the basement before your mother admitted that perhaps today wasn't the best day for spring cleaning. She'd sat you down and you'd talked about everything that was bothering you; how you'd hoped she'd be different, how you'd been surprised that she was… then how you wanted the old Faith back. The one who tried to get you to eat disgusting food combinations and taught you to find the fun and… promised not to sleep with anyone else even though you weren't even officially dating. That last bit you'd left out obviously.

Everything had been confusing. But you'd resolved to visit her. To win her back.

If you could only get her to speak to you.

"You almost flat-lined in the hospital, did they tell you that? I was there. It was so… I- I thought we'd almost lost you. And then there'd be some new girl. Giles would probably want me to teach her stuff, and, and they'd watch her all the time and… she wouldn't really get to have fun like we do-id, did. Obviously. Um…"

You sigh as she shuffles round in her uncomfortable chair, not even the mention of her near-death getting through to her though you can see a spark of annoyance in her eyes.

"Look, I get that I hurt you but I'm here now, isn't that what you wanted?"

She stares back at you with a bland 'who, you?' look. You would have expected your heart to ache but instead your insides curl and a layer of angry red covers your vision. That bitch… you're trying!

"If you don't want me to be here why did you even bother apologising?" You spit, a muscle twitches in her cheek, "Why are you sitting there if not for me? I told you 'prison' and you went. Seems a little like 'how high?' to me!"

"IT IS NOT!" Faith roars, shooting to her feet. The guards move in. "I didn't do this for you! You don't get to say you're sorry! You don't get a second chance!"

You're almost physically thrown back in your seat as she snarls at you, repeating your words from a fortnight ago. The stabbing in your stomach returns with an ironically brutal force. Why does she always work you up like this?

"I gave you chances! You took everything I had to offer you and then you stole the rest!"

Shrugging off a guard she turns to glare at you, "You can't rape the willing, B!"

"I'm not talking about that!" She'd barely even made it to second base with you- technically she hadn't- but you know she thinks you regret it. "I- I-" You choke back the word 'liked', now is not the time to confess just how much you 'liked' her. "I wish you'd died!" It escapes from your lips ferociously before you can bite it back down.

"So do I!" She slaps a hand over her own mouth and growls at you through her fingers, "You little shit… Why are you even here? You want to gloat? Wave your fake forgiveness in my face just so you can snatch it back again?"

She's no longer talking into the phone but your enhanced senses clutch her sneers through the reinforced glass.

"I don't- I don't even know why I'm here!" An itch spreads along under your skin, tearing at your nerves, "I don't have to be here. You're the one locked up! I can go anywhere I want." Your taunts burn the back of your throat, she makes you so angry but you wish you could just swallow it all back down. "You're a pathetic loser, you can't even be bad right! You don't want to talk to me? Fine! You- you can rot Faith!"

Your hands smack simultaneously into the glass so hard it surprises the both of you. Cracks radiate out and a thin trail of blood slides down the glass between your palms though you're not sure which side of the glass it's from. For a moment you both stare at your hands and then at each other. It doesn't seem odd to you that at the exact same time you'd both hit the exact same area of glass.

"I…" Her eyes have a slightly unhinged quality behind the anger and pain yet when she speaks again it is with a dull and resigned voice, "Fucking hate you."

She pulls her hand back first, fingertips leaving circles of condensation on top of yours. The glass balances for one precarious second before shattering down.

You tear out of the visiting room; swiping so hard at your non-tears you graze your fingernails across your face. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…" As the guard buzzes you out you turn to see Faith angrily scrubbing her cheek against her shoulder while the guards cuff her arms.

"Miss?" floats through to you from a guard beside Faith and you think it strange that they call her that before being startled out of your reverie by his handing Faith a package with 'Checked' stamped on. The distance from here to Faith is measured rapidly before you dismiss the idea- even if at top speeds you could make it to the other side of the gate and the fallen glass in the blink of an eye… you'd still have to wrestle it from Faith.

She stares in confusion at the packet of Pop-Tarts, tugging her hand free to pull out the note you'd slipped inside. You turn and run, not leaving time to watch her expression as she reads the short and scrawled; 'I'm sorry too'.