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Faye hurt. Her heart ached all the time and she didn’t even know why. She couldn’t know why. Maybe whoever she used to be knew, but Faye Valentine didn’t know what it was like to have a family.
Can you really grieve something you never had? How can you miss a family you don’t remember? How can you wish for a life you’ve never truly led?
How-? Why-? She hurt all the time and- a family? Voices. Whose? Yellow and blue, and girls. And a boy, brother? She remembered tiny seats, and fear and the world rattling and screaming, so much screaming. And she remembered, she remembered, she remembered.
Suddenly Faye is screaming, and screaming, the sound tore through her along with the pain and her eyes shot open. Her throat ached and she couldn’t breathe and tears flow down her face. Her hands shake and even as she told herself it was a dream, and she can’t help but sob.
Because Faye Valentine doesn’t dream. Or if she does they don’t last longer than the two minutes it usually takes for her to drag herself up from her cot. She’s sitting upright now but her hands still trembled.
“Faye?” There was a knock on her door. Faye didn’t think she can speak. It doesn’t matter though, because either way Spike comes barging in.
“Why were you- woah,” he stopped dead his eyes widening. “Uh.”
Faye looked away, desperately wiping her eyes. Despite how hard she tried her hands and heart wouldn’t still. She took a deep breath.
“Sorry to wake you,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“What happened? Bad dream?”
“I don’t know, Spike,” she said through gritted teeth.
“It’s a yes or no question, it’s not that hard, jeez and- are you crying?”
“I just don’t know Spike! Leave it alone! It’s none of your business!” Spike gave a soft sigh, a hum, and leaned back against the doorframe. Faye knew what that meant. The man was getting comfortable, and planned to stay.
“It’s not my business,” Spike agreed eventually. “Tell me anyway?”
“It’s not a big deal. I’m fine. Just go away.”
“You’re not fine, Faye. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen you sad, much less sad and scared,” as always, the damned cowboy saw right through her.
“I can’t trust anyone. Not even myself. You don’t know what it’s like. ”
“Oh yeah? Try me. I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he said, she raised an eyebrow, doubtful. “What, you thought you were the only one with skeletons in your closet? I have some half-memories that I question sometimes.”
He said it so casually, that is she didn’t know better she’d say they didn’t bother her. But when you can’t trust your mind every second you live it weights on you, a tiny question about what you could be missing.
“It came back,” Spike stiffened at her words “just in bits and pieces. I don’t remember much, but Spike,” her voice broke, the screaming or the crying or the emotions catching up to her.
“Spike, the very first thing I learned was that I can’t trust what anyone tells me.. but now-?” Faye fought to keep the tears from spilling. “What if it was just a bad dream? What if I’ll never remember? What if I do? I’ve spent so long grieving a life I can’t remember but- but I think remembering might be worse. Because I’ll be grieving a life and people I can picture. Isn’t that so much worse? To remember and still hurt anyway?”
“I’m not going to lie,” he said softly, gaze distant. “Sometimes it hurts more, and sometimes I think it’d hurt less than loosing the memories to begin with. Forgetting is just and terrifying.”
“I’m so scared. I don’t even know why. I don’t want my memories to be just a dream, but remembering is terrifying.”
“I know. But whether or not your memories return, you’ll always be Faye Valentine. It won’t fix your debts. It won’t change that bad habit of running off and spending all our money, or the fact that you’re stuck with us, and we’re stuck with you. It won’t change who you are at your core.”
“How do you know?” She asked quietly. Spike just shrugged, standing.
“I’m a good judge of character,” was all he said before slipping out of her room softly shutting the door behind him.