FIC: Autumn Term at Slayer Academy 7/12 Buffy/Faith NC-17
Title: Autumn Term at Slayer Academy 712
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Buffy/Faith
Timeline: 8 years post Chosen
Summary: Buffy talks about the Slayer Academy and what they’re all up to now. Some of this is light and fun, some of it is rather angsty (and possibly triggering) and of course Buffy and Faith get it on.
Feedback: I would love as much and as detailed feedback and constructive criticism as you want to give. Thank you to everyone who's given feedback so far. It is much appreciated.
Distribution: That would be great, but please ask first.
Disclaimer: All of it belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy.
Acknowledgements: The best beta in the whole wide world. The lovely m_phoenix
Link to previous chapters
7. The Next Chapter
When we’re having sex I always stroke and kiss the scar. Faith says; “B you don’t have to do that.”
I say; “I know.” I hope it will remind her of how different we are now. That things are different between us. I touch her there; the site of the worst thing I ever did. I try to pour all my love and care into every lick and caress of that place. I want to heal what has gone before and I need to keep doing it. The scar will never disappear. But I do it to remind her that while things are different now, so much better; kinder. I haven’t forgotten. I won’t ever forget. I want her to know that I’ve taken responsibility. Maybe it will be all inspirey and she’ll get the hint; that it’s possible to take responsibility without the world imploding. I want her to understand that I won’t deny our past and I’ll keep trying to heal it. I know I don’t have to. I even know she’s forgiven me. I haven’t really forgiven myself. Another thing we have in common. There will always be sadness between us even in the form of a thin silvery line of scarring. Faded, but it’s there.
You know, I never feel secure in our relationship but Faith is the only person who ever made me feel safe. You’re thinking Angel, right? He was once my knight in super shiny armour, but he was always a vampire. With Faith it’s not like that because despite being so different we’re essentially the same. I didn’t realize that when it was always me being the responsible one. Eventually it wears on you the whole, “Faith, should you be drinking that much?” “You missed two appointments with Giles this week, you really should call him.” “I’d appreciate it if you turned up on time or even marked a few books for our classes.” Needless to say, she’d give me a look. Not dissimilar to the one she gave Wes the day they met.
So, there was this time a few years back when I decided for the 480th time that things were absolutely once and for all well and truly over between us. Don’t roll your eyes, I was very serious. There are only so many days a girl can take of encouraging the one she loves to become all dependable conscientious Slayer. There are also only so many nights a girl can take of hearing the one she loves fucking every skeaze who rolls their hips at her on the dance floor. I’d reached the end of my very long tether and decided it was time to let go and settle down with same nice stable guy. Any nice, stable extremely hot guy would do. Giles kindly sent me on a mission to the Northern Territories to capture a rare Vanquista demon. I told Dawn we were going on a delightful Canadian vacation with all expenses paid for demon execution. So I pried her away from Connor for three seconds and off we went.
You know how I was never crazy big on research? I figured I’d slain thousands of species of demon, how hard could a daylight basking Vanquista be? The more pertinent question is how wrong can one girl be? The answer is very. You know what a Vanquista demon does when it gets you? It haunts you…inside I mean. It induces psychosis through some mystical aloe. This is no ultra-moisturising California sun-burn relieving aloe. It is definitely not derived from natural botanicals or even plants. Freaky mystical aloe is oozed straight from the demon’s palm into the victim’s hair. Hair. Giles knows how I feel about lather rinsing and repeating to get rid of sewer smell. There are not enough pro-vitamins in existence to deal with that aloe gunk oozing into your follicles. And at that point the gunk was the least of my worries.
Dawn, being a Watcher in Training, felt guilty for not having researched this thing properly. I hadn’t told her the real reason I’d requested a rural vacation; to remove myself from the luscious temptation which is the body of Faith. So, after my hair infection, I began muttering delirious excuses to Mom for having sneaked out. Dawn understandably was all concerned. She stepped up the research when I spent an hour sobbing out incessant apologies for killing Ted. But when I started clawing at my own arms in attempts to remove Giles’ Cruciamentum needles, little sis called the one person she knew would vanquish the Vanquista and be there for me. The thing about Faith is; if you have her loyalty then you like have it. Not in a monogamy way or anything. Oh no. But she never killed Angelus. I did. Dawn knew that Faith would kill the demon and stop at nothing to make sure I was ok.
When I’d left Cleveland to go on that mission, the last person I’d have wanted to see was Faith. But the Vanquista goo makes you all paranoidy, right? And the source of 98.9% of my insecurity, then and now? The grunting curly haired brunette. So actually, although she didn’t understand the reasons why, Dawnie was right to call Faith. She was the only one who could alleviate my paranoia while I waited for said mystical aloe to make its way out of my system. When I left for vacation I was kinda numb. But the effects of the demon gunk are downright painful. And there’s something about being haunted that Faith understands. Dawn called and never heard back from Faith. But less than a day later she brought the oozing demon head, rife with congealed blood and pustular neck cysts, to where Dawn and I were staying. That was truly the most romantic thing Faith ever did for me.
Then she sat by me for four days. I mean, Faith literally didn’t leave my bedside. Dawn would hand her a bowl of iced water every couple of hours and Faith would mop my brow to try and ease the fever. Yep. Faith played nurse-maid. Freaky, right?
But it was more than that. Every terrifying thing I’d ever thought came to mind while I was under the thrall of the mystical hair gunk. I don’t mean actual demons and monsters. I mean the personal ones; the stuff that keeps us awake at night but we never say. Basically it was one long week of watching Faith get it on with everyone I’ve ever met, while I failed to resuscitate Mom, Glory got Dawn who was never real anyway and Dad just kept leaving. But the worst thing was that whenever I wasn’t slicing a sword into Angel I could feel the knife gouging Faith’s gut. The look in her eyes at that moment was the scenic background to the picture show which was Buffy’s personal version of hell.
The whole thing’s a bit of a blur but Dawn says it’s a good thing we were in a cabin miles from anywhere as my shrieking could have woken whole villages. She also says that Faith would hold my hand saying; “Look Buffy, Dawn’s right here. Your sister’s safe. Glory’s dead. Dawn’s here. You saved her. You save everyone.”
Apparently then I’d shriek that I didn’t save her and various other things I’d rather not repeat from that night on the roof. Then Faith would hold me. She’d quietly reassure me that we’ve all done bad things and it wasn’t my fault, which I know is a lie. But it was sweet of her to say. When I was all halluncinationed out Faith would fall asleep on the wood floor beside my bed. I’d wake her every couple of hours screaming some variation on, “Don’t jump. Don’t die. I killed you, I’ve become you” at the top of my lungs. The words still send a chill through me now. Dawn says it was a toss up between who looked more terrified; me from my haunting induced nightmare or Faith by being roused from much-needed sleep by my cries over the worst moments between us.
One time I woke her up with what they both say was the most bone-chilling scream; “Faith, no!”
Instantly, Faith grabbed her most treasured knife. She slung her bag over a shoulder and frenziedly made her way out through the kitchen. She almost knocked into my responsible sister, who was doing anything to feel useful and making us all soup. “Ya know Mini-Buff, I’m no use here. Call Angel.” Faith kept tapping her foot, refusing eye contact. “I’m just makin’ this worse for B and it’s too freaky, y’know? Buffy’s the strong one.”
Dawn was pleading with her to stay when apparently I cried; “Mommy please don’t die.” That’s hard to tell you even now. But according to Dawn, in an instant Faith was clutching me, stroking my hair away from my face. It was kinda this weird week of role reversal as she soothed my nightmares. I think Dawnie got a glimpse of Faith’s true feelings. She doesn’t show her vulnerability much and it’s not like I tell the others about her tortured dreams. Since then, Dawn’s been a lot more charitable towards Faith and our non-relationship. While I don’t remember much of that week, which is no bad thing, I do remember the sensation of Faith’s arms around me, and the entire plane journey home with her hands around mine as she sat beside me. Needless to say, my plan to secure myself a nice stable hunk never materialized.
So now I’m stuck with this woman I adore who, once again, I’ve been encouraging to take a bit more responsibility. Especially where Toby’s concerned. My reasons for this? My vague hope that Faith will become dependable and ease up on the drinking. It would make Toby happy and considering how much he looks up to her, it wouldn’t hurt if she started being a decent influence. Plus, I won’t lie to you; it’s not easy having a kid. I kinda became instant-Mom when mine died. But Toby’s younger than Dawn was and it’s a lot to deal with alone. Faith’s been talking recently as if she wants to be a proper part of his life. Even so, I was surprised when she readily agreed to look after Toby on Saturday morning so Dawn and I could do some much needed retail therapy. Do you know how long it’s been since I got new clothes? Faith didn’t even complain when I mentioned that hanging with Toby included supervising homework. “No sweat B. We’re teachers now, right? Homework’s a breeze.” I was delighted.
That was, until noon, when I returned completely earringed, pursed and shoed out. Yes I actually reached my personal accessory threshold. I was on my way to stow said purchases in my room when I walked past the open door to the communal staff living room.
Faith and Toby were both still in their PJs, lying on their stomachs watching The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They were surrounded by about fifteen of those mini cereal boxes. All the sugar cereals had been consumed, the healthy ones, funnily enough, had been discarded; “Hey Kid, have you tried my triple chocolate combo? The milk’s almost black.”
“Cool.” Toby grabbed her spoon.
“Uh, Faith, could I have a word?”
“Oh, hey B. Sure.” She turned to Toby; “Kid, call me if Raphael does anything cool?” She tapped his Spiderman- pyjamas clad leg, as she got up. “I’m probably in trouble with the boss.” She gestured at me and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t let her hassle you.” Toby rolled his eyes back.
I grabbed Faith’s arm and pulled her out the room. “Thanks a lot Faith.”
“For what?” She was all innocence. “B, you look especially hot today.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Don’t even try it Faith.”
“But you smell good too.” She kissed my neck, which wasn’t as hard to resist as it sounds because it’s not like she’s been uber affectionate lately.
“Homework?”
She yawned, stretching the extremely tight tank top and boxers which are her pyjamas even tighter across her body. “Come on B, it’s the weekend, don’t be such a drag.”
“Don’t make me have to be.” Faith sighed. “I know you already agreed to be there for Toby but that involves more than wild stories, laser tag and teaching him to side-kick Giles’ topiary. Obviously you can still do all that stuff. You should do it. But I need you to be more like a…” I hesitated here, not sure how she’d respond to the word but I needed to get my point across; “Parent. And sometimes take a hard line, make unpopular decisions. I need you to do some of the worrying.” I hate being the grown-up sometimes. “I’m happy to negotiate the details of what it means to be a good parent. But then I need you to stick to what we agree. I know you love him and want him to have a different childhood than you did.” I tentatively placed my hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah, what his bastard parents didn’t already fuck up.”
“What you’ve done so far is amazing, for yourself and for him. He can tell you the biggest worst stuff.” Her hand actually reached up and covered mine.
“Faith, only you could have done that. You already are an amazing parent in some big profoundy ways. I just don’t wanna always be the bad one.”
“Always?” She smirked at me. “Face it B, it’s your turn to be the bad Slayer.” She was swatting playfully at me and we were laughing.
I wondered if maybe it was possible this would all work out. “How come you being the bad Slayer involves being wild, mysterious and dark? Me being the bad Slayer involves insisting on a consistent bedtime?” I pouted.
“Well for a start you’re leaving out the me killing people part. Also, you’re just too good to be truly dark.” I twisted her nipple ‘til she cried out.
Obviously I want Faith to be more responsible and a better influence slash role model for Toby. But Faith being Faith, she takes everything to the extreme. She has to prove her point. A few hours after our big ‘shared responsibility’ conversation, Toby was standing between us in the car park. He was on his way out with the gang. Faith started wrapping a scarf around his neck. It was seventy degrees out. But she was all, “Wear a jacket, don’t do drugs, eat your vegetables - not broccoli but the others -- drink milk, there’s nothing un-cool about healthy teeth and bones. And be back before midnight.”
Toby beckoned Faith to lean forward so he could jump high enough to feel her forehead. He turned to me and said; “She’s very very ill.” Then he ran off to join Xander and Andrew’s weekly expedition to the comic book store.
“And be back before curfew or you’re grounded young man.” Faith called after him. Then she turned to me and said; “How’d I do?” I shook my head at her, but I was grinning. “See B, picture of sensible responsibility here.”
“Yeah?” I slipped my hand into the back pocket of her jeans.
“B, we’re in public. This is not a good example for the children.” She shook her finger at me.
In fact, for once, public displays of groping were not why I had my hand on her butt - not that I didn’t have a good feel while I was there. I retrieved the slingshot from her back pocket and held it up. “Um, would this have anything to do with the wrinkled forehead of a certain principal hmming and hawing about dry cleaning cherry stains out of tweed? Or a phantom Watcher muttering; ‘I may not be corporeal but cherry pips through the eyes and nostrils are still rather unseemly.’ I am suspecting that there might be a connection between that and the cherry juice dripping down Toby’s chin. And yours for that matter.” I licked it off for her. Sweet caring me. I’m all about the altruism.
Faith leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’m going for a walk. See ya later B.” She skulked away.
Huh? And did I mention huh? I was way confused. I ran after her, grabbing her arm. “Don’t shut me out Faith. I care about you I wanna be there; maybe I can even soothe some of the pain.”
“Don’t use that word!”
“Pain? Sorry.”
“No, the other word.”
“Soothe?” Faith half shuddered, half cringed as she nodded emphatically. “Why? I think it’s a nice word.”
“It’s not! I hate that fucking word.”
“It’s just a word Faith.”
“It fucking isn’t just a fucking word.” And she stormed off, boots thudding on the grass as she broke into a run. Away from me. So I was left trying to figure out what exactly had got to her this much, this time. Wanting desperately to help her and not knowing how.
Angel says I should just wait and the moment will arise. He says I’ll know when. I like talking to Angel about Faith. He still persists in taking her on big redemptive missions. Together they rescue children, the elderly and abandoned fluffy animals. Faith’s not a big fan, “It’s time to find the fun, Soul-Boy. This is whacked even for you.” He reminds her they have a lot to make up for, and insists she be the one to return the pig-tailed child or mewling kitten, to its relieved parent.
Angel is optimistic. He says there is a strong part of Faith that desperately needs things to be different and never reneges on a mission. When they’re guarding the back alleys at 3am, he’ll ask pointed questions about her drinking, encouraging her to open up about her past. She’ll say, “Dude, what is with you and the touchy feely? Leave the head-shrinking to Princess C.” That will be the exact moment Faith spies and enacts justice upon a vicious vamp gang.
Despite this, according to Angel, there will be a time when I can reach out to Faith and she’ll accept my help. Maybe he means the nightmares? I don’t even talk to him about them. It’s not my place. But what if the perfect time arrives and I’m yelling at Spike or getting a manicure?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Buffy/Faith
Timeline: 8 years post Chosen
Summary: Buffy talks about the Slayer Academy and what they’re all up to now. Some of this is light and fun, some of it is rather angsty (and possibly triggering) and of course Buffy and Faith get it on.
Feedback: I would love as much and as detailed feedback and constructive criticism as you want to give. Thank you to everyone who's given feedback so far. It is much appreciated.
Distribution: That would be great, but please ask first.
Disclaimer: All of it belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy.
Acknowledgements: The best beta in the whole wide world. The lovely m_phoenix
Link to previous chapters
7. The Next Chapter
When we’re having sex I always stroke and kiss the scar. Faith says; “B you don’t have to do that.”
I say; “I know.” I hope it will remind her of how different we are now. That things are different between us. I touch her there; the site of the worst thing I ever did. I try to pour all my love and care into every lick and caress of that place. I want to heal what has gone before and I need to keep doing it. The scar will never disappear. But I do it to remind her that while things are different now, so much better; kinder. I haven’t forgotten. I won’t ever forget. I want her to know that I’ve taken responsibility. Maybe it will be all inspirey and she’ll get the hint; that it’s possible to take responsibility without the world imploding. I want her to understand that I won’t deny our past and I’ll keep trying to heal it. I know I don’t have to. I even know she’s forgiven me. I haven’t really forgiven myself. Another thing we have in common. There will always be sadness between us even in the form of a thin silvery line of scarring. Faded, but it’s there.
You know, I never feel secure in our relationship but Faith is the only person who ever made me feel safe. You’re thinking Angel, right? He was once my knight in super shiny armour, but he was always a vampire. With Faith it’s not like that because despite being so different we’re essentially the same. I didn’t realize that when it was always me being the responsible one. Eventually it wears on you the whole, “Faith, should you be drinking that much?” “You missed two appointments with Giles this week, you really should call him.” “I’d appreciate it if you turned up on time or even marked a few books for our classes.” Needless to say, she’d give me a look. Not dissimilar to the one she gave Wes the day they met.
So, there was this time a few years back when I decided for the 480th time that things were absolutely once and for all well and truly over between us. Don’t roll your eyes, I was very serious. There are only so many days a girl can take of encouraging the one she loves to become all dependable conscientious Slayer. There are also only so many nights a girl can take of hearing the one she loves fucking every skeaze who rolls their hips at her on the dance floor. I’d reached the end of my very long tether and decided it was time to let go and settle down with same nice stable guy. Any nice, stable extremely hot guy would do. Giles kindly sent me on a mission to the Northern Territories to capture a rare Vanquista demon. I told Dawn we were going on a delightful Canadian vacation with all expenses paid for demon execution. So I pried her away from Connor for three seconds and off we went.
You know how I was never crazy big on research? I figured I’d slain thousands of species of demon, how hard could a daylight basking Vanquista be? The more pertinent question is how wrong can one girl be? The answer is very. You know what a Vanquista demon does when it gets you? It haunts you…inside I mean. It induces psychosis through some mystical aloe. This is no ultra-moisturising California sun-burn relieving aloe. It is definitely not derived from natural botanicals or even plants. Freaky mystical aloe is oozed straight from the demon’s palm into the victim’s hair. Hair. Giles knows how I feel about lather rinsing and repeating to get rid of sewer smell. There are not enough pro-vitamins in existence to deal with that aloe gunk oozing into your follicles. And at that point the gunk was the least of my worries.
Dawn, being a Watcher in Training, felt guilty for not having researched this thing properly. I hadn’t told her the real reason I’d requested a rural vacation; to remove myself from the luscious temptation which is the body of Faith. So, after my hair infection, I began muttering delirious excuses to Mom for having sneaked out. Dawn understandably was all concerned. She stepped up the research when I spent an hour sobbing out incessant apologies for killing Ted. But when I started clawing at my own arms in attempts to remove Giles’ Cruciamentum needles, little sis called the one person she knew would vanquish the Vanquista and be there for me. The thing about Faith is; if you have her loyalty then you like have it. Not in a monogamy way or anything. Oh no. But she never killed Angelus. I did. Dawn knew that Faith would kill the demon and stop at nothing to make sure I was ok.
When I’d left Cleveland to go on that mission, the last person I’d have wanted to see was Faith. But the Vanquista goo makes you all paranoidy, right? And the source of 98.9% of my insecurity, then and now? The grunting curly haired brunette. So actually, although she didn’t understand the reasons why, Dawnie was right to call Faith. She was the only one who could alleviate my paranoia while I waited for said mystical aloe to make its way out of my system. When I left for vacation I was kinda numb. But the effects of the demon gunk are downright painful. And there’s something about being haunted that Faith understands. Dawn called and never heard back from Faith. But less than a day later she brought the oozing demon head, rife with congealed blood and pustular neck cysts, to where Dawn and I were staying. That was truly the most romantic thing Faith ever did for me.
Then she sat by me for four days. I mean, Faith literally didn’t leave my bedside. Dawn would hand her a bowl of iced water every couple of hours and Faith would mop my brow to try and ease the fever. Yep. Faith played nurse-maid. Freaky, right?
But it was more than that. Every terrifying thing I’d ever thought came to mind while I was under the thrall of the mystical hair gunk. I don’t mean actual demons and monsters. I mean the personal ones; the stuff that keeps us awake at night but we never say. Basically it was one long week of watching Faith get it on with everyone I’ve ever met, while I failed to resuscitate Mom, Glory got Dawn who was never real anyway and Dad just kept leaving. But the worst thing was that whenever I wasn’t slicing a sword into Angel I could feel the knife gouging Faith’s gut. The look in her eyes at that moment was the scenic background to the picture show which was Buffy’s personal version of hell.
The whole thing’s a bit of a blur but Dawn says it’s a good thing we were in a cabin miles from anywhere as my shrieking could have woken whole villages. She also says that Faith would hold my hand saying; “Look Buffy, Dawn’s right here. Your sister’s safe. Glory’s dead. Dawn’s here. You saved her. You save everyone.”
Apparently then I’d shriek that I didn’t save her and various other things I’d rather not repeat from that night on the roof. Then Faith would hold me. She’d quietly reassure me that we’ve all done bad things and it wasn’t my fault, which I know is a lie. But it was sweet of her to say. When I was all halluncinationed out Faith would fall asleep on the wood floor beside my bed. I’d wake her every couple of hours screaming some variation on, “Don’t jump. Don’t die. I killed you, I’ve become you” at the top of my lungs. The words still send a chill through me now. Dawn says it was a toss up between who looked more terrified; me from my haunting induced nightmare or Faith by being roused from much-needed sleep by my cries over the worst moments between us.
One time I woke her up with what they both say was the most bone-chilling scream; “Faith, no!”
Instantly, Faith grabbed her most treasured knife. She slung her bag over a shoulder and frenziedly made her way out through the kitchen. She almost knocked into my responsible sister, who was doing anything to feel useful and making us all soup. “Ya know Mini-Buff, I’m no use here. Call Angel.” Faith kept tapping her foot, refusing eye contact. “I’m just makin’ this worse for B and it’s too freaky, y’know? Buffy’s the strong one.”
Dawn was pleading with her to stay when apparently I cried; “Mommy please don’t die.” That’s hard to tell you even now. But according to Dawn, in an instant Faith was clutching me, stroking my hair away from my face. It was kinda this weird week of role reversal as she soothed my nightmares. I think Dawnie got a glimpse of Faith’s true feelings. She doesn’t show her vulnerability much and it’s not like I tell the others about her tortured dreams. Since then, Dawn’s been a lot more charitable towards Faith and our non-relationship. While I don’t remember much of that week, which is no bad thing, I do remember the sensation of Faith’s arms around me, and the entire plane journey home with her hands around mine as she sat beside me. Needless to say, my plan to secure myself a nice stable hunk never materialized.
So now I’m stuck with this woman I adore who, once again, I’ve been encouraging to take a bit more responsibility. Especially where Toby’s concerned. My reasons for this? My vague hope that Faith will become dependable and ease up on the drinking. It would make Toby happy and considering how much he looks up to her, it wouldn’t hurt if she started being a decent influence. Plus, I won’t lie to you; it’s not easy having a kid. I kinda became instant-Mom when mine died. But Toby’s younger than Dawn was and it’s a lot to deal with alone. Faith’s been talking recently as if she wants to be a proper part of his life. Even so, I was surprised when she readily agreed to look after Toby on Saturday morning so Dawn and I could do some much needed retail therapy. Do you know how long it’s been since I got new clothes? Faith didn’t even complain when I mentioned that hanging with Toby included supervising homework. “No sweat B. We’re teachers now, right? Homework’s a breeze.” I was delighted.
That was, until noon, when I returned completely earringed, pursed and shoed out. Yes I actually reached my personal accessory threshold. I was on my way to stow said purchases in my room when I walked past the open door to the communal staff living room.
Faith and Toby were both still in their PJs, lying on their stomachs watching The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They were surrounded by about fifteen of those mini cereal boxes. All the sugar cereals had been consumed, the healthy ones, funnily enough, had been discarded; “Hey Kid, have you tried my triple chocolate combo? The milk’s almost black.”
“Cool.” Toby grabbed her spoon.
“Uh, Faith, could I have a word?”
“Oh, hey B. Sure.” She turned to Toby; “Kid, call me if Raphael does anything cool?” She tapped his Spiderman- pyjamas clad leg, as she got up. “I’m probably in trouble with the boss.” She gestured at me and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t let her hassle you.” Toby rolled his eyes back.
I grabbed Faith’s arm and pulled her out the room. “Thanks a lot Faith.”
“For what?” She was all innocence. “B, you look especially hot today.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Don’t even try it Faith.”
“But you smell good too.” She kissed my neck, which wasn’t as hard to resist as it sounds because it’s not like she’s been uber affectionate lately.
“Homework?”
She yawned, stretching the extremely tight tank top and boxers which are her pyjamas even tighter across her body. “Come on B, it’s the weekend, don’t be such a drag.”
“Don’t make me have to be.” Faith sighed. “I know you already agreed to be there for Toby but that involves more than wild stories, laser tag and teaching him to side-kick Giles’ topiary. Obviously you can still do all that stuff. You should do it. But I need you to be more like a…” I hesitated here, not sure how she’d respond to the word but I needed to get my point across; “Parent. And sometimes take a hard line, make unpopular decisions. I need you to do some of the worrying.” I hate being the grown-up sometimes. “I’m happy to negotiate the details of what it means to be a good parent. But then I need you to stick to what we agree. I know you love him and want him to have a different childhood than you did.” I tentatively placed my hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah, what his bastard parents didn’t already fuck up.”
“What you’ve done so far is amazing, for yourself and for him. He can tell you the biggest worst stuff.” Her hand actually reached up and covered mine.
“Faith, only you could have done that. You already are an amazing parent in some big profoundy ways. I just don’t wanna always be the bad one.”
“Always?” She smirked at me. “Face it B, it’s your turn to be the bad Slayer.” She was swatting playfully at me and we were laughing.
I wondered if maybe it was possible this would all work out. “How come you being the bad Slayer involves being wild, mysterious and dark? Me being the bad Slayer involves insisting on a consistent bedtime?” I pouted.
“Well for a start you’re leaving out the me killing people part. Also, you’re just too good to be truly dark.” I twisted her nipple ‘til she cried out.
Obviously I want Faith to be more responsible and a better influence slash role model for Toby. But Faith being Faith, she takes everything to the extreme. She has to prove her point. A few hours after our big ‘shared responsibility’ conversation, Toby was standing between us in the car park. He was on his way out with the gang. Faith started wrapping a scarf around his neck. It was seventy degrees out. But she was all, “Wear a jacket, don’t do drugs, eat your vegetables - not broccoli but the others -- drink milk, there’s nothing un-cool about healthy teeth and bones. And be back before midnight.”
Toby beckoned Faith to lean forward so he could jump high enough to feel her forehead. He turned to me and said; “She’s very very ill.” Then he ran off to join Xander and Andrew’s weekly expedition to the comic book store.
“And be back before curfew or you’re grounded young man.” Faith called after him. Then she turned to me and said; “How’d I do?” I shook my head at her, but I was grinning. “See B, picture of sensible responsibility here.”
“Yeah?” I slipped my hand into the back pocket of her jeans.
“B, we’re in public. This is not a good example for the children.” She shook her finger at me.
In fact, for once, public displays of groping were not why I had my hand on her butt - not that I didn’t have a good feel while I was there. I retrieved the slingshot from her back pocket and held it up. “Um, would this have anything to do with the wrinkled forehead of a certain principal hmming and hawing about dry cleaning cherry stains out of tweed? Or a phantom Watcher muttering; ‘I may not be corporeal but cherry pips through the eyes and nostrils are still rather unseemly.’ I am suspecting that there might be a connection between that and the cherry juice dripping down Toby’s chin. And yours for that matter.” I licked it off for her. Sweet caring me. I’m all about the altruism.
Faith leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’m going for a walk. See ya later B.” She skulked away.
Huh? And did I mention huh? I was way confused. I ran after her, grabbing her arm. “Don’t shut me out Faith. I care about you I wanna be there; maybe I can even soothe some of the pain.”
“Don’t use that word!”
“Pain? Sorry.”
“No, the other word.”
“Soothe?” Faith half shuddered, half cringed as she nodded emphatically. “Why? I think it’s a nice word.”
“It’s not! I hate that fucking word.”
“It’s just a word Faith.”
“It fucking isn’t just a fucking word.” And she stormed off, boots thudding on the grass as she broke into a run. Away from me. So I was left trying to figure out what exactly had got to her this much, this time. Wanting desperately to help her and not knowing how.
Angel says I should just wait and the moment will arise. He says I’ll know when. I like talking to Angel about Faith. He still persists in taking her on big redemptive missions. Together they rescue children, the elderly and abandoned fluffy animals. Faith’s not a big fan, “It’s time to find the fun, Soul-Boy. This is whacked even for you.” He reminds her they have a lot to make up for, and insists she be the one to return the pig-tailed child or mewling kitten, to its relieved parent.
Angel is optimistic. He says there is a strong part of Faith that desperately needs things to be different and never reneges on a mission. When they’re guarding the back alleys at 3am, he’ll ask pointed questions about her drinking, encouraging her to open up about her past. She’ll say, “Dude, what is with you and the touchy feely? Leave the head-shrinking to Princess C.” That will be the exact moment Faith spies and enacts justice upon a vicious vamp gang.
Despite this, according to Angel, there will be a time when I can reach out to Faith and she’ll accept my help. Maybe he means the nightmares? I don’t even talk to him about them. It’s not my place. But what if the perfect time arrives and I’m yelling at Spike or getting a manicure?