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Sometimes Faith wonders if the slayer line skipped her. Not the strength stuff, of course. But the rest of it.
Faith’s not inherently good. She’s not some talisman to fight evil. She’s not — well, she’s not Buffy.
Buffy’s got it. Whatever it is.
Anyone would look at her and just know.
She’s got that star quality. She’s different from the rest of the world — better.
It’s like Buffy’s the Vampire Slayer and Faith’s just a vampire slayer.
Faith reckons Buffy kept all the weird slayer juju for herself, didn’t pass any of it along when she died — how selfish, right? Should’ve shared a little. Faith figures she could’ve been miles better if she was just a little more slayer and a little less fighter.
But fuck it, that’s who she’s always been. It’s who she’s always had to be. She won’t go into the details — ain’t the time for it. Ain’t ever the time for it. It’s all a bit blurry anyway.
Being a kid sucked. Being a Lehane sucked even more.
That’s that. That’s the story — or all Faith’s ever willing to give anyway.
Life sucked before, Faith’s fine letting everyone else fill in the blanks with whatever sob story’s more likely to get them to hand over a couple dollars so she can afford dinner.
Her new stories are far more interesting anyway. She flashes them around as currency, buying whatever she wants: a bed to stay in and whatever dick comes with it; a drink or four; someone to like her even if it’s just for a minute — or however long she can drag out the tale.
Buffy never seems too interested in them. She’s got stories of her own which way outpace the shit Faith can come up with. This Angel thing? Yeah that’s the kind of quality fiction that Faith needs to start working on. Draw out the sympathy cards however she can. Plus Buffy’s got the cool shit too, the stuff that’d make random guys fold over if they were able to comprehend that it was true.
Faith doesn’t quite get why Buffy’s friends don’t seem to realise how cool she is. That first night they’re all leering over her like she’s the attraction, as if the motherfuckin’ sun ain’t sitting next to them.
Buffy’s pretty standoffish at the start. All that bullshit about low fat yogurt and fucking off at school to go do whatever.
Faith kinda digs it though. Makes her more mysterious. This is the elusive slayer she’s been hearing about from... well, what does it matter who was telling her the stories. That was Boston. Boston’s a whole other life — and Faith ain’t really into reminiscing.
Buffy’s cooler when her friends aren’t around at least; more willing to wolf down a few double doubles and add shakes on top of fries to really confuse the cashiers as to how a size four is slimming it on this diet. Plus the whole fight with Kakistos was neat. Buffy’s pretty good at fighting when she isn’t being annoying about sympathising with vamps. And sure, Faith will proudly proclaim that she’s the one who actually nailed Kakistos, but no doubt, she’d have been a lifeless corpse without Buffy, all drained out and slashed to pieces just like—
Boston’s in the past, and now Kakistos is too. No point dwelling.
Faith’s never more sure of the fact that the slayer goodness bullshit skipped her than when her arms are burning from tugging the body to the docks, weighing him down and watching him submerge into the water. She spends the next day rubbing blood off her hands and it just won’t fuckin’ go, and yeah she knows that’s a book or something ‘cause one of her foster families she had in seventh or eighth grade was real strict on school attendance and homework stuff, but just because Faith knows that the blood ain’t really there doesn’t mean she can’t stop seeing ghosts everywhere she looks. Doesn’t mean there isn’t still red wherever she’s been. Fucking spots everywhere and she can do her damnedest but yeah, she’s got a label now, and it ain’t slayer.
‘Murderer’ is gonna be pretty hard to just shake off, especially in this town of goody two shoes, morals as light as their hair. And yeah, whatever, Red is red not blonde but, she’s got a look to her that makes Faith feel like dirt and really, as much as Faith wishes she didn’t care about the way Red’s eyes burn into her accusingly when Faith finds her in the Mayor’s office, she does. Mainly ‘cause she thinks this is it, bridges burnt well and truly. Buffy may have forgiven her for Finch, might even have forgiven her for Angel, but now Faith’s gone too far.
Willow and Xander, her precious little Scoobies, they were off limits. It’s partially why Faith smashed through those barriers as best she could, put her hands around Xander’s neck and put a knife to Willow’s. Clean breaks and all — life’s taught her that those are pretty useful.
She forgot her mom the second the coffin was lowered. Never spares her deadbeat dad a thought. Won’t ever step foot in Boston again.
It’s easier if she gets rid of Buffy like that. If she lets her linger it’ll just hurt too much. And yeah, Faith understands why — not that she’ll admit it to anyone but the three walls and bars on the fourth — but that’s further down the line. For now, she’ll stick with forced anger and push down that self-loathing and the other thing and force Buffy to do something drastic so she doesn’t have to.
She wants Buffy to kill her.
Yeah, she said it.
She wants Buffy to kill her, and not because she’s suicidal or something, like, fuck that. If Faith was suicidal she’d have ended this shit long ago, somewhere in between eleven and twelve when her mom was... well yeah. Point is, Faith didn’t want Buffy to kill her ‘cause she wanted that easy way out. No. She wanted to pull Buffy down with her, take her off that pedestal and let her learn what it feels like to not be good.
She wants Buffy to have to deal with the guilt, see if it drags her down further like it did Faith. She wants the sun to dim, because the world shouldn’t be this dark for her only. That’s just not fucking fair.
More than anything else, she wants Buffy to not be 'The Slayer' anymore. She wants to strip her of the innate goodness that makes her worth more than Faith, wants to fuck her up enough that she starts to worry she’s becoming like Faith. And yeah, she wants to fuck her as much as she wants to fuck her up, but it’s for the same reason, really.
Buffy’s pure and innocent and clean and everyone knows it, everyone looks at her like she’s good just as everyone looks at Faith like she’s all the other things.
Faith wants Buffy to learn what it feels like to be dirty. She wants Buffy to know what it’s like, that even when she scrapes the skin off her hands, they will still have someone else’s blood on them. Faith wants Buffy to wear the scars of her — the scars of them — on her face and let the entire world judge her for it.
Not that they would. The world would probably have thanked her if she’d have just shanked the knife through Faith like she was supposed to. Nah, instead Buffy half-assed it, got it halfway in and then got scared.
Buffy couldn’t even murder Faith right.
*
Faith dreams of Buffy. She never seems to stop. It’s not a new thing, not some cute little coma-therapy. Faith’s been dreaming about Buffy since the second she’s been called.
It’s different now. Buffy’s no longer a beacon calling her in, but a storm pushing her out. In every version of the dream Buffy slashes away at anything that could resemble happiness. Buffy’s knife is at her own throat more times than Faith can remember, but the scar is still on Faith’s stomach, and it rips her apart from within.
Reset.
Start again.
Picnic, mayor, Buffy. That damned knife taunting her in every frame.
Buffy doesn’t take it out. Faith wakes up anyway.
*
They’re two sides of a mirror and Faith’s the one trapped behind glass. All she can be is a poor imitation of Buffy. Faith only exists when Buffy’s light is refracting on her. When Buffy’s not around she’s just gone — she’s nothing. The coma proves that.
Wait. That’s not the saying; it’s two sides of a coin, right? Yeah. Two sides of a coin — well fuck it, Faith’s not rich enough for that. All she’s got is that mirror in the motel that taunts her in shards, splintering her reflection — maybe one fragment of her is good. The rest aren’t.
Faith looked into that mirror more than she’d like to admit. It’s not vanity — or, not entirely vanity. It’s an assessment of her assets — yeah, that sounds better. More professional, like Faith isn’t actually whoring herself out, just using her assets. Yeah. Okay.
The mirror at the Summers’ house is cleaner, not even a smudge mark to go on it. It’s not broken. Faith gets to see the whole picture for the first time in a while.
Despite the coma, she looks pretty good. Unhinged? Definitely. But hot? Yeah.
Doesn’t really matter what she looks like, she hates herself either way. Hates Buffy even more for not just fucking ending it like she was supposed to. Nah, Buffy’s moved on. She didn’t have to reckon with the blood on her hands because Faith was still breathing. She murdered Faith and didn’t even become a murderer. Buffy’s the universe’s favourite child, that’s for sure, they’d never sully Buffy's image like that.
Buffy got away with no scars. Faith got a coma, and a huge tear in her stomach that’s definitely gonna knock a few dollars off her price.
Buffy, Faith finds out later, has three scars. One on her left leg, a mostly faded spindly thing tracking down her calf. There’s another smaller one on her wrist. Then there’s the ones on her neck.
Faith hates that Angel scarred Buffy about as much as she hates that she didn’t manage to scar Buffy. It’s typical, really. Of course Angel was the one to leave marks. Faith wasn’t significant enough to be immortalised within Buffy — she sees that now.
Faith plays out a day in the life of Buffy and it’s exactly as infuriating as she’d imagined. Buffy’s the golden girl with the perfect mom and friends, the boyfriend who's head over fucking heels for her, spilling out tender confessions of love as he caresses her.
Faith fucking hates it. She hates it for being everything she’s never had, everything she’ll never have. She hates that it’s the first time that someone said it. Those three fucking words. Faith reckons when she was a baby her mom and pa might have said it to her, back when she was still cute and loveable and not inflicted with the shitty personality she now trademarks. She can’t remember that though.
By the time she’s old enough to make memories she’s no longer loveable.
Mostly, she hates that she doesn’t hate it. She’s spent her entire life thinking she didn’t need this shit, didn’t want it. She’s not cut out for relationships and relationships aren’t cut out for her, all that lovey-dovey stuff is so stupid and gag-worthy and — it feels good. Hearing those three words feels good.
Feeling loved is… Faith never knew how much she was missing out on.
For a moment she’s perfect Buffy, and she’s the real slayer, and she’s good.
Going back to herself ruins her, because Faith can feel the difference now. She knows what it’s like to be clean, and now her dirtiness sticks on her. Her innate badness suffocates her. She’s claustrophobic in her own skin and she can’t handle it. No amount of drugs or alcohol fixes it. She plunges herself in it, tries to drown within it and embrace it, but Angel’s throwing her a lifeboat like the altruistic asshole he is and Faith can’t — she can’t do anything. She just crumbles and collapses into him and into a new version of herself she’ll never be comfortable with.
She’ll never be okay again, that’s what the Mayor’s stupid final trick taught her. Now that she’s felt what it’s like to be Buffy, every day spent in this scarred skin tortures her. Her mind imprisons her more than the bars ever could. She’s forced to be Faith, she’s forced to live with this head and this body and this feeling inside of her which taunts her like a devil on the shoulder, gentle, surging reminders of what real power feels like. Power that isn’t slayer-given strength.
Thing is, Faith can suppress it now because she’s learnt a different sort of power. One that isn’t killing, and isn’t pushing yourself up by pushing everyone down. She thinks it’s the real power of the slayer — or maybe it’s just Buffy. There is power in being good, especially when you have the option to be bad. That choice is power, and Faith clings to that idea whether it’s a hoax or not, because what else can she do?
*
There’s a power in going back to Sunnydale, but it’s weakness that drives her there. Well, actually it’s Willow who drives but — not the point. Faith’s there for one reason and it’s transparent to all of them.
Willow reads the shit out of the situation like the nerd she is, dropping tentative remarks about ‘Buffy this’ and ‘Buffy that’ but it’s not until they reach the city limits that Faith’s actually able to draw the courage to ask whether:
- Buffy knows she’s coming back
- Buffy asked for Faith to come back
Willow stammers around her answers with enough rambling that Faith understands:
- Buffy know she’s coming back
- Buffy did not ask for Faith to come back
Willow amends enough to say that just because it wasn’t Buffy’s idea, doesn’t mean Buffy won’t be glad Faith’s there, but Faith figures out pretty easily that the only reason Buffy’s accepted this is because she needs it. Wanting isn’t relevant in a war like this.
Faith’s not there out of want either. Not really.
She’s there because she’s needed — she’s there because she’s needed by Buffy. She relishes in that — Buffy needs her. So what if she doesn’t want her, Buffy needs her, so Faith’s gonna be there and she’s gonna be all polite about it and not rub it in that Buffy clearly went into this thinking she’d sort it all out by herself, and is now having to re-evaluate, and that’s led her to Faith.
For the first time in her life, Faith’s important.
She chases that feeling the entire time, trying to not do anything which will make people stop seeing her as necessary, trying to cement this new role she’s found herself in amongst the kids — these potentials who look at her the way she always used to look at Buffy. Like she’s The Slayer.
She chases that feeling all the way into a trap, and pays the price in burns and shame.
It would have been easier if the flames had swallowed her up to, but life’s never been kind to her before, why would it start now. Faith has a war to fight, and she’s the universe’s favourite pawn, rook to Buffy’s queen. She can die then — after she’s suffered.
But she doesn’t.
Faith hadn’t really prepared for after.
As a concept, it didn’t exist to her. Never had. She’d grown up in the immediacy of the present, with hunger that carved its way into her, solved for a moment but never promised, and houses which she never stayed in long enough to make homes out of.
Prison was the closest thing she had to a home. It’s the longest she’s stayed in one place in her entire life. But Faith isn’t gonna go back there — no chance.
She sticks it out with Robin, tries to force herself into a box which she ain’t ever gonna really fit in, but he sees her as important, and that’s… neat. Faith settles into it, tells anyone who asks that it’s ‘nice’ and keeps telling them it’s ‘nice’, until one day Buffy calls her with a new apocalypse and Faith runs her shoes off trying to get to her.
It doesn’t count as running — not in the way that Faith has come to define it. It’s not running like how she did when she was younger, sprinting away from her problems, the foster homes, her parents, Kakistos. She’s not running away without a clue as to where she’s going. She’s running towards something — towards her.
It’s not about Buffy.
Not really.
(But, it’s always about Buffy. At least a little bit.)
Faith doesn’t mean to linger after the newest maybe-apocalypse. She tells Robin she’ll be back in Cleveland soon, but there’s always one more thing to deal with. There’s the post-apocalyptic clean-up, and then there’s this new problem-slayer that Buffy and the gang need help with, and then suddenly her and Buffy are needed in Italy and… Faith loses track of time, and loses Robin with it.
They weren’t dating. Fucking? Sure. Sleeping together? Yeah. But Faith would shrug his arm off her, and she never needed his jacket, and that says more about them then any words ever could.
She thinks, deep down, Robin always knew they had an expiration date. Faith was never looking for something serious in him, and Robin was always looking for a glimpse of childhood happiness that he’d never have been able to find in her. Just because she was a slayer, didn't mean she was family. Robin couldn’t fuck out his mommy issues through her. (Faith couldn’t either).
It’s between Italy and Switzerland, Buffy half-asleep on the train opposite her as she asks about Robin, that Faith realises she’s not going back to Cleveland.
Buffy doesn’t get it. Robin and Faith have, in some way or another, been together for almost a year. Buffy can’t comprehend that Faith doesn’t view it as a serious relationship — she can’t comprehend that Faith doesn’t view it as a relationship at all.
She doesn’t understand that — as much as Faith had been in denial about it — Cleveland was always a stepping stone, and never a destination. It had been nice. It hadn’t been right. And maybe Faith didn’t deserve more, but she could get it. That’s what her life had always been about, stealing everything good from people who deserved it more.
She’d stolen a place at Buffy’s side because Kendra had died; she’d stolen Buffy’s boyfriend because she could; she’d thieved her way into a leadership position because everyone seemed to have amnesia about what a trainwreck she’d been.
But when it comes down to it, she doesn’t steal Buffy.
If anything, Buffy steals her.
She steals Faith’s time, and attention like she’s always done, but more now they’re older and Buffy’s life isn’t fixated around a school and a friend group that Faith isn’t a part of. She keeps taking, and Faith keeps letting her, partially because she’s so confused that Buffy wants it.
Faith feels like someone’s playing some prank on her, entering her into an alternate dimension where everything she’d wished for comes true, because all those years spent dreaming about a life where Buffy calls her first, where Buffy wants Faith by her side for more than just a battle, and doesn’t sideline Faith for her friends — it all comes true overnight.
Between the planes and trains and car rides which carve routes through countries Faith couldn’t even name, with late night trips to diners after patrolling and the motels in the small towns they find themselves in, Faith finds herself climbing up Buffy’s list of people who are important to her. Her number is Buffy’s speed dial, and Buffy abuses having eternal access to Faith on the regular, texting Faith complaints about the movie Willow picked, or the girl Xander’s dating.
Faith spends most of her time with Buffy, or replying to texts from Buffy, and within a blink of an eye Buffy’s entirely consumed her every waking moment. It gets bad enough that Faith’s dragged along to the movie nights, and Buffy texts her from beside her like schoolmates passing notes in class, thighs pressing into the other for warmth as if the blankets aren’t inch-thick.
Faith knows it’s a problem when Willow started addressing them as Buffy and Faith. She’ll text Buffy, and when Buffy doesn’t immediately reply, texts Faith because she knows Faith will be right besides her, and Faith’s got attuned to the buzz of a phone like she’s Pavlov’s cat — or whatever the fuck it is that Willow keeps bringing up.
The tension which once permeated the air between them, an eternal companion to their every interaction, evaporated with Willow’s spell. The slayer power broke free from its limitations, and Faith stole a bit more of that too, just enough so that she was good like Buffy. Or, not good, but better. Good enough.
The tension got twisted and reformed until it became a lifeline between the two of them, the original two, the Chosen Two — chosen in a way none of the others were. Chosen in a way that made the others revere them: they’re Buffy and Faith, The Slayers.
The barrier broke and the bridge formed, and Faith’s not sure who crossed it but neither of them looked back. What once stood between them now pulls them together and Faith leans in at every possible moment, knowing without doubt that Buffy will lean in too.