Chapter Text
Faith turned the page, knowing damn well she hadn’t read a word on the last. Flipping through trashy rags while boring black-and-white shows ran in the background was just about the closest thing she had to a nostalgic pastime. Many nights in even smaller rooms were once spent that way, usually while she waited for her mother to return from whatever bar she’d been getting wasted at that month.
Sometimes, if Faith was lucky, Mom would get herself cut off early—or maybe kicked out for fighting—and be home before midnight. Sure, that meant listening to a whole lot of angry rambling, but it also usually meant dinner got made and there was a chance at a decent night’s sleep.
Most often though, she’d doze off, only to be woken up by loud crashing around 2:30, soon followed by her heavily-intoxicated mother chasing her off the only bed. Rubbing her tiny eyes, she’d make her way to a sofa or chair, or if they were staying somewhere particularly run-down, the floor. Not too close to the bed, of course, in case Mom knocked something off the nightstand or Faith had a nightmare and made enough noise to get that same object chucked at her on purpose.
By third grade, she'd wised up enough to begin cooking most evening meals herself, but the routine stayed the same; what the hell else was there to do? As long as she got off the bed by 2, it was an acceptable way to entertain herself. Even if she fell asleep early, she’d trained herself to scamper away the second she heard the door open.
Learning to take care of herself, to stay out of her mom’s way—pathetically enough—was the proudest she remembered feeling, and it worked like a charm. Well, for a couple years anyway, until Mom started bringing her boyfriends home and expected Faith to clear out entirely.
A knock on the door sounded through the room. Faith’s head shot up, her first instinct to hastily roll off the bed before she caught herself. This is my room. Mine.
Trying to steady herself with a slow breath, she called out to the visitor. “Come in.”
The door opened. Buffy peeked around the corner, looking nervous. “Hey.”
Suppressing a grimace, Faith instead opted to take another deep breath and look back down at her magazine. Oh boy, here we go.
Buffy stepped into the room, letting the door shut behind her as she took in her surroundings. Faith swallowed, waiting for her reaction.
“The place looks nice,” she finally said, in a tone that made Faith seriously doubt her honesty.
“Yeah, it’s real Spartan.” A true fighter needs nothing else.
Clearly not getting the significance, Buffy approached her with all the subtle hesitation of a zookeeper entering a tiger enclosure. “How are you?”
Flipping another page, Faith jerked her head. “Five by five.” Her voice felt uncomfortably close to breaking in her throat. Fuck, get it together already.
Buffy nodded slowly. “I’ll interpret that as good.”
Faith said nothing, only turned through the pages faster, desperate for a distraction. Nothing good was going to come from a heart-to-heart right now, certainly not within 24 hours of making a complete fool of herself and starting an all-out brawl. Hey, between the fighting and the drinking and the habit of screwing anything that moved, she was becoming more like dear old Mom every day.
“Look,” Buffy started hesitantly. “Gwendolyn Post, or whoever she may be, had us all fooled. Even Giles.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t trust people.” Faith rapidly flipped to the end of the magazine. “I shoulda learned that by now.”
She’d tried to soften the blow by mixing a little chuckle into the end, but Buffy still looked a bit upset. Biting her lip, Faith wished she’d just agreed and dropped the conversation.
“I realize this is gonna sound funny coming from someone that just spent a lot of time kicking your face…” Buffy laughed slightly, seemingly in awe of the absurdity of her own words, but shifted to dead serious as she resumed speaking. “But you can trust me.”
It took Faith a moment to process the words, but once she did, she couldn’t hide her amusement.
“Is that right?” She closed the magazine and tossed it aside, crossing her legs as she finally looked up at Buffy, waiting for her to find a way to justify herself.
“I know I kept secrets, but I didn’t have a choice.”
There it was. Faith studied her expression. She seemed genuinely remorseful, but it didn’t make what she was saying any less infuriating. Didn’t have a choice?
“I’m on your side,” Buffy said softly.
“I’m on my side, and that’s enough.”
Shaking her head a little, a concerned look spread across Buffy’s face. “Not always.”
Faith rolled her eyes, wanting to escape this talk as quickly as possible. “Is that it?”
Buffy dropped her gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I guess”
“Alright. Well, then, I’ll see ya.” Faith shifted her eyes back to the TV, trying to act like she had any clue what was on.
After a second of hesitation, Buffy turned her back and started sadly toward the door.
Faith closed her eyes, a wave of regret creeping in surprisingly quickly. Why? Why am I being such a bitch? Yeah, B hasn’t exactly been Honest Abe, but I’m the one who fucked up, the one who damn near got everyone killed. She’s probably just trying to be nice.
Shaking her head in a pointless effort to dispel the sudden guilt, a strong impulse overwhelmed her.
“B-Buffy?”
Buffy immediately turned to face her, smiling a bit through her eager response. “Yeah?”
Don’t say that. Don’t be weird. She’s only here out of obligation. Stay out of her way. God, just shut up. Play it off and let her go. She can’t help you. You can’t trust her, she’ll hurt you. She’ll hate you. You’re not her friend.
“Faith? What’s up?”
“Wanna stay for a bit?” The words spilled out before she could stop herself. Shit.
Buffy blinked at her.
Faith hastily launched into damage control mode. “I mean, y’know, if you’re not doin’ anything, thought I’d offer to hang. I’m sure you’ve got plans, though. It’s cool.”
“I’d love to. Mom’s actually been kinda weird since the candy incident, so I wouldn’t mind getting out of the house for a bit. Are you alright?”
“Huh?” Faith dropped her arm back onto the bed, having only just realized she’d been clutching her head without noticing. “Oh, fine.”
“Good.” Buffy smiled. “Whatcha got in mind?”
Faith shrugged. “Dunno. I would suggest the Bronze, but can’t exactly say I'm jonesing to see familiar faces right now.”
“How about we just stay in for once, then?” Buffy suggested. “Maybe order a pizza or something? Slaying’s always on the table if we get bored.”
Faith tried not to smile or look relieved. “Yeah, alright. If you want.”
“Great. What’s on TV, is it any good?”
“What, this?” Faith scoffed. “No idea. Guess we could always consult Mister TV Guide. Pretty sure I got this week’s lying around somewhere.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Buffy inched closer. “Where should I sit?”
“Oh, I don’t have chairs or anything.” Faith rubbed her neck. “Don’t get many visitors, y’know?”
“Right.” Buffy nodded. “Is the bed okay, then?”
Faith cleared her throat. “Uh, sure, it’s cool. Want me to sit on the floor? I really don’t mind, I know it’s not too spacious.”
“Oh no, of course not, it’s your place,” Buffy said breathlessly. “Please, get comfy.”
Faith smiled involuntarily. “In a sec. Lemme scrounge around real quick, bet I got that listing somewhere.”