A New Start: Faith — The Visitor
by Sibling
"Hey, Collins! You gotta visitor!"

Huh. Wonder who it could be. Can't be Angel, it's not his usual day, and whenever he shows up, it's always, "Collins, your boyfriend's here!" My boyfriend. Yeah, right. As if he'd ever look at me that way after what I did to him and . . .

I put down the book I've been reading -- some philosophical thing my counselor said might help me work out my "issues." She's full of crap, but the book's actually pretty good. Not the deep mumbo-jumbo, but the places this guy went in search of "enlightenment" and "fulfillment" sound wicked awesome. It would be great to be able to see them when I get out.

If they'd ever let a paroled killer leave the state, much less the country, that is.

I follow the guard down the hall to the visitor's room, and I nearly have a heart attack as I see who's waiting on the other side of the Plexiglass.

B.

The blood's roaring in my head as I sit down and pick up the phone next to me.

"Hi, Faith."

"B." I want to dish out the usual tough-girl lines, "How's it hangin'?" or something like that, but I just don't have the energy. Doesn't sound like she does, either.

Then I remember what Angel told me a while back. "I heard about your mom. For what it's worth . . . I'm sorry." And I am. Joyce was decent to me . . . before. And that time I had her tied up, she had some kinda guts, even when she thought I was gonna rip 'em out and show 'em to her.

One more reason B ticked me off so much -- she won the Mom lottery, big time, and she never seemed to appreciate it.

Only I think she did, 'cause her eyes get all misty, and she murmurs, "Thank you." Then she looks right at me, and says, "But that's not why I'm here. I need . . . I need your help."

I blink in surprise. B askin' me for something? This has to be a joke. What's next, Wesley the Weasel coming to tell me he's gonna be my Watcher again, or Red sayin' she's got the hots for me?

I guess she can tell what I'm thinking, 'cause she continues, "Please, Faith. I . . . I have a story to tell you. You see . . . " and she reaches for her left hand, where I see a little silver ring on her finger. And she pulls it off, and her face changes.

What the hell?

Her hair is still blond, but it's a little different. And her face is longer and thinner, and her nose is straight, and her eyes are darker.

And her voice is lower, and almost husky, as she says, "I'm not quite me anymore."

---

B's story is something else.

Apparantly, some Hellbitch came after her sister -- who isn't really her sister -- and tried to use her in some ritual to go back to wherever she came from. She's toast, but the portal got opened, and it seemed like the only way B could close it was to let little D die.

Only Buffy had some kinda epiphany, and jumped into the portal, sacrificing herself to save her sister and the world. End of story, right?

Wrong. B wakes up . . . in someone else's body. Someone who'd died nearby, and recently. Turns out if two people die, and one soul doesn't want to leave, and the other body is still . . . inhabitable . . . the soul can move in, and take over.

Jesus. B took on a god and the Reaper in one night, and trashed both of 'em. Wow.

Only she's not the Slayer anymore. The vamps and demons are startin' to get real frisky in SunnyD, and the Scoobies aren't up to keepin' 'em down. And then B heard I was gonna get out of jail soon, and so she's offering me a deal.

When I get out, I make a little trip to Sunnydale, and Red and her girlfriend will switch my body with B's. B gets to be the Slayer again. I get a complete new start -- a normal girl, with a high school diploma, no criminal record, and some money in the bank. Not the best deal in the world, but not bad.

I ain't buyin' a word of it.

Not the story -- it's so damn weird, I can't help but believe it. Not even B could make up something this freaky. But the deal? Nope. She's not tellin' me everything.

"I don't get it, B. You kept sayin' you wanted to be a normal girl, with a normal life. Now you've got it, and you want to go back to bein' the Slayer again? What gives? Why do you want to do this?"

She looks at me, this stranger with the intense gaze that tells me this is still B, and she whispers, "Because this is killing Xander."

Oh, Jesus.

She continues, "The girl who died, Anya . . . she was Xander's girlfriend. His fiancée! He'd proposed to her that night, just before the fight, and she said yes, and now . . ."

She's crying. Now I know she ain't pullin' my leg, 'cause she's letting it all out.

"This ring -- it's an illusion spell Willow made for me. But it only works for an hour or so at a time, so I have to save it for when Social Services comes around, to check up on me and Dawn. And every time I see Xander, he looks so awful, and I want to comfort him, and I can't, because when he sees me, he remembers what he's lost. Anya's dead, she's gone, but as long as I'm like this, he can't deal with it, and he's my friend, and I can't help him any other way."

Aw, hell. Why'd it have to be Xan-man?

I might have been able to say no to B. Or at least leave her hangin' for a while, let her sweat it for a bit while I thought about it. Maybe I want to find some redemption, make amends for what I did, but giving up being the Slayer is an awful lot to ask. Especially since it's saved my ass more than once in this hellhole.

But it's Xander. Of all the Scoobies, he tried the hardest to let me in. And when he came to try to be a friend to me, I attacked him. Nearly strangled him.

Plus, there's that little bit where I owe him my life, for slamming into that demon bitch with his car.

Me and B got all sortsa things between us. Maybe the scales are more on her side, but I still can't quite make myself forgive her for some of the things she said and did. And for the things she wouldn't say or do.

But Xander? No two ways about it, I owe him big-time.

Am I really gonna do this? Am I really gonna give up my body?

Yeah. I'm gonna do it.

And who knows? Maybe I'll get to see all those places I keep reading about . . .

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