Impressionable Sorrows
by DawnBTVS
Impressionable Sorrows
[reviews]
Title: Impressionable Sorrows
Author: DawnBTVS
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Rating: R for AL and AV
Warning: Don't read if F/F relationships make you scared.
Distribution: None Yet
Feedback: Always welcome!
Spoilers: Starts through Season 5's "No Place Like Home" and finishes through Season 5's "The Gift" with some alterations.
Pairings: X/A, B/W
Author's Note: Told through the POV of Faith.
Part I: A Second Chance
It was a crummy apartment. The room was tiny, smaller then the one I had in Sunnydale. I wasn't that shocked though, maybe I should've been. I just chalked it up to being L.A. I'm sure there were enough actresses and artists living in these shitholes. I swung my black duffel bag over my head and tossed it onto the bed. It was bouncy, always good to know. All the sheets were white. Looking around the room, everything was white. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume I was stuck in the loony bin. I grab the remote, sit, and turn on the TV. It's basic cable, only goes up to fifteen channels. Reception sucks too, but considering what I'm paying, I should be fortunate.
"Welcome to your second chance at life sweetheart," I mumble to myself. I kick my shoes off and scoot back, resting my head on my intertwined hands. I think about two years ago, the shit that went down. I went crazy. I was already teetering on the edge, no kidding myself on that, but when I stabbed that guy, Allan Finch, I lost it. Whatever was good, right, and holy in my life vanished. I didn't care either. I truly stopped caring about anything in the world. That is, until I met Wilkins. A smile spreads on my face. He was great. A lot like Giles actually. I wonder what the old codger's up to now. Is he still watching over Buffy? B's my girl; glad she didn't turn to the dark side like me. I just hope that when...make that if, I see her, she doesn't kill me instantly. I don't think she enjoyed having her body switched, and nearly getting hauled to London. I'll have to settle that bridge when I cross it though. Look at me, lying here, actually thinking about shit. Planning out what I'd do. Guess England changed me more than I thought.
"Fucking light," I grumble. I rise to my feet and glare at the lamp swinging, flickering on and off. It's growing on my nerves. I'd swat it, but then I figure I'd get evicted. There's no way I'm running to anybody for shelter. Fuck that. I'm five by five. I don't need anybody's help. Guess I did though. England helped, a lot though I'd never admit that to Buffy. The blonde would take too much pride in that. They helped me to get over what happened. They considered me rogue. Some word that means the Slayer went bad. I definitely went bad. I glance at the clock and I'm surprised it's only six AM. Gotta get used to the time change now I guess. It's been five months since I set foot on American soil. During that time, I learned to focus, forgive, and be a good girl. That's why I'm here in LA. Got out early, pretended to be a good girl...though I'm not quite sure when it stopped being pretend and turned to reality. I don't care though, you know? I'm me, Faith. I shouldn't care about that kind of stuff. I stretch, arching myself now. I'm feeling limber, in need of a good fuck. Maybe I'll swing by Angel's investigation place. See how fang's handling life. I grab my leather jacket and tug it on over my white top. I make sure my leather pants are a go. I grab the room keys, wouldn't want to forget them, and place them in my pocket.
"Let's party," I say, laughing. It feels good to laugh, to be free. It's been a while since I've done that. Sunnydale sucked...maybe LA won't be so bad. I start whistling as I close the door, heading out back into the world.
~~~BTVS~~~
I arrive at Angel's investigations business a little around eight AM I think. I'm not really sure, since I'm lacking a watch. I never liked wearing a watch, made me feel like a corporate goon. What would I use it for anyway? Use it to tell time? I can just ask the person next to me and continue on my way. I lift a hand, but bring it down again. Suddenly, I'm not sure that this is the smartest thing I can do. Last time I was here, I was hired to kill Angel. Tried to shoot the bugger...Angel, in the back in full view of a corporation without any worries about getting arrested. I wonder if a vampire exploding into dust would've made more of a commotion though. I shrug that thought off. Torturing Wesley, hurt though. I remember that. It's hard to forget stuff like that, especially when you do it, and at the time show no remorse. I did a damn good number on him. I wonder if he'll stake me, like Buffy would. My concentration gets broken though, how convenient, right when I'm in my introspective moment.
"Faith," says a voice, quietly, cool and neutral. I bow my head, not wanting to make eye contact at the vampire I nearly offed five months ago. I wait for him to kick me away, or call England again, or something. I deserve it, after what I've done. It's funny how one person can burn so many bridges in so little time. I've gotten pretty good at it. I wonder if Giles would go all Freud on me if I told him that. I hope not. "Come in," says Angel, still keeping with that calm, neutral tone. I look up, surprised, but quickly mask it. I can't afford to open myself up like that. I've changed, but that's sticking with me. I stick both hands in my pockets, and step in, head still lowered. I can't look at him. My eyes won't let me. I want to, you know, just to see his expression. I can feel it though. His stoic face that he uses when he's disappointed. Man, I'd hate to be a dog owned by him. I feel his hand cup my chin, lifting my head up. My eyes meet his, and I quickly shrug out of his hold. He was worried! This fucker was worried, about me, about the rogue Slayer. I felt a hysterical giggle rising in my throat but clamped down. I looked back up at him. He stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest. It looked like he was waiting for me to talk. What the hell could I say? Hell, what should I say?
"So...how's business?" I ask, knowing it's lame, but it's a starting point. He goes with it though, not pressing me, which is nice. I can see him smirk a little, and I know that he knows I'm bullshitting here.
"Good. A few demons here and there, nothing major though," he replies. I nod my head, unsure of how I should be feeling. This is extremely awkward. It's hard too, of course.
"Good. That's good, you know. Keep Los Angeles safe," I say, feeling like an idiot. I should just...go, leave. I never should've come here. It was a dumb move. I begin to turn, but Angel places a hand on my shoulder. I tense, as if coiling, ready to explode out of his grip, and dash out the door. I'm thinking that of course. My body's screaming to do it. I don't. Not quite sure why. Angel's hand withdraws, but I turn back to him, curious. I eye him, trying to figure out what he's thinking. Angel's hard to read though. He always has this expression that seems blank, but you know he's thinking in there, and you have no idea what it is. It can get quite infuriating. Just then, the doors burst open, laughter ringing. I turn sharply, getting into a fighting stance, and then freeze. It's Cordelia and Wesley. Fuck, just what I need. I lower my clenched hands, somehow unclenching my fists though it takes a lot of willpower to do so. I'm surprised. Cordelia doesn't seem that shocked to see me. She's angry, don't get me wrong, but it's like she knew I'd be here, right this second. She places her bag of groceries down, and just stares at me, with her hands on her hips. Wesley...well, he looks like he might kill me after all. He instantly drops his two bags of groceries, and lets out a growl. It's a nice growl too, reminds me of Buffy when she's pissed off. I feel an orange tap against my foot, but nudge it away. I'm too focused on Wesley.
"Faith," he says, in a clipped tone. I can feel the hatred radiating off him. I look down then, guilty as hell, knowing I have it coming. I force my eyes back up, force myself to take this, it's my punishment. I need it, desire it. Angel steps forward in front of me. I glare at him. He shouldn't be interrupting my moment of flagellation.
"Why is she here, Angel?" Wesley asks. I can see that Cordelia has sat down, but has kept her eyes trained on me. Why should she trust me after all that I've done?
"She was released from England this morning. The Council took her after she turned herself in. They let her out for good behavior. Said she was rehabilitated," Angel responds. I can tell he's trying to explain this, without offending me. What a vampire huh? I'm surprised that he knows what's going on though. Maybe I shouldn't be. He always said he'd check up on me. Guess I didn't realize how close. Now I wonder how long he's been checking up on me...and how often.
"But...but...she could be acting. She's a damn good actress. Plays the bleeding heart, then goes maiming the town," Wesley snarls. I flinch. It's true, but it doesn't take the pain away either. I guess that's where the saying, the truth hurts, comes from. I'd like to think so at least.
"That may be true. I trust The Council though. If they say she's rehabilitated...she came here involuntarily. She wasn't threatening. Rather, I think she expected me to kick her away," Angel says, his tone now softer. Maybe it's sympathy, I'm not sure, as usual with the brooder. Cordelia snickers. I feel like snickering myself at the craziness of my situation right now. B would never believe that this shit went down.
"That would've been a bloody bright idea. Do you have any idea what you're doing, Angel? You're harboring a murderer. She killed a person, and showed absolutely no remorse. She turned herself in but so what! She tortured me. Have you forgotten that?" Wesley asks, his tone a mix of anger and hurt. Guess that left a deeper impression then I was hoping it would. I continue to stare down hard. I notice they've installed a new carpet. It's beige, goes with the desk at least. Cordelia stands up. I glance at her, watch her, as she walks no, stalks towards me. She glares at me, hard, cold. Reminds me of myself two years ago, the glare of a killer. She saunters past, enters the elevator, and heads down. I turn my attention back to Angel and Wesley. Neither man has budged.
"I haven't forgotten, Wesley. Everybody deserves a chance in life. I know, she's used two of them already," Angel says, holding a hand up, and turning to glare at me before he turns back to Wesley. "Just give her some time with me, alone. Give her a couple weeks. You don't have to look at her, talk with her, or anything. Same goes for Cordelia and Gunn," Angel says, almost pleading. This guy keeps shocking me. I wonder what the catch is. Why is he being so helpful to me? I'm not worth this attention, this fucking aid. I should be dead in a ditch somewhere, killed at Wesley's hands. My body should be a rotting corpse. Yeah, I said England helped, doesn't mean I can forgive everything I've done though. That'd just turn me back into what I was, and that won't happen, ever again.
"Whatever," Wesley snarls. He steps past Angel, and walks into me with a hard shoulder. I stagger a couple steps. It wasn't that hard, and I could've maintained my ground, but I at least owed Wesley that small victory. I glance at Angel, whose eyes are roaming over the fallen groceries. I bend down, beginning to pick up the assorted items. Angel bends down, helping with my efforts, though I feel like he's infringing on my self-pity.
"Why do you want to help me so bad?" I ask, confused, and damn curious. What did I do to deserve this, except nearly kill him twice, and hurt my ex-Watcher. Not to mention torment his lover, and her friends. Angel stands up and sighs. He's silent for a few minutes. I rise as well, but remain quiet.
"Being alone, makes it that much harder. I've been there myself, Faith. I've killed for centuries, without a care in the world. The moment I got my soul back, I had nobody to turn to. I scavenged, lived like a homeless man, because I was one. I didn't have a home, a chance, in this life, Faith. Not until I arrived in Sunnydale. I don't want you to end up like me, wandering life, with no purpose to it. It'll drive you insane," he responded, a trace of misery, and hope.
"I don't deserve it," I reply, sullenly. I truly felt I didn't. Why couldn't I just fucking accept it though? I wanted to, so badly, but I couldn't. Maybe it was the fact that I'd be getting close again. I swore I'd never get close to anybody again after my Mother. The boozehound that she was never cared for me. Drove my father away, who never saw me again after age eight. I keep it bottled in though. Expressing it leads to open wounds that others can exploit. This way, I always keep the upper hand on those around me.
"Everybody does. No matter how bad they've been," Angel stated. He was clearly talking about himself right then. I knew that. I resisted though, still unsure if I should...or rather if I could even handle this. I was a whirlwind of self-doubt, confusion, and worry that I'd just fuck it all up again. I always fucked up stuff. I looked up, holding my left arm, with my right hand. I was nervous, knowing what I was about to say. I was scared he'd laugh at me. Ha ha...fooled Faith this time. Dumb bitch actually trusted me.
"Okay," I whisper, my voice sounding like it's hidden in a closet door at the end of a long hallway that I can never reach the end of. Angel just nods his head, stoic expression returning. I glance at him, unsure of what to do. "What now?" I ask, feeling like I need his guidance, which I do, if I want to do what I must. He gestures at the fallen food items with his head. I had forgotten about them. Amazing how your mind can drift away when pressure rises to stare you dead in the eyes.
"Pick up the food, and stock them in the fridge downstairs. Just take the elevator down," he says, calm again, as if none of this had ever happened in the first place. He turns, steps on the elevator, and I see it disappear from sight. I breathe deeply and bend down. My new life's about to begin and it scares me. I just hope I can keep up with the action, physically, no sweat...mentally though, is a whole other matter. Emotionally, I figure I can steel myself as usual. They don't need to know about my past, my history. It'd bore them. It's mine. I lived through it, they didn't. Fuck them.