Destruction of Faith: Chapter 1- The Set-Up
by kookytree
Faith flicked her hair back from her face with the sort of coquettish flourish only "those-sort-of-girls" can master, blowing glittering jets of steam at her flushed face. The graveyard looked even more desolate in the bitter cold of a Sunnydale winter, comatose trees battered dumbly by hoarse winds, flowers once placed ever-so-carefully over headstones now sailing wildly over grave after grave, shocks of reds and pinks and yellows that seemed almost indecent in this place of mourning. Faith hated graveyards even more than most- it wasn't so much the constant reminder of mortality that repelled her, as the stagnant, rotting permanence of the place. Forced to stay in one place until time stripped flesh clean from bone. That was truly something to be frightened of.

She shook her head, as if the gesture would shake such thoughts from it, and narrowed her eyes, darting them over the undulating bumps of angels, watering cans and platitudes that were the graves. She had just ran through backstreets and suburbs to this place, hence the dull thump of her heartbeat charging full-speed against her chest and the awkward redness blotting itself gleefully over her face. She had ran because she was certain she was late. She should have known he would take his time.

She flung herself carelessly onto a crumbling wall and fished out a fresh packet of cigarettes from her leather jacket. As smoke puffed inelegantly from her mouth, she considered how alone she was here, how far from the main body of the town. She could scream until her voice whimpered to a standstill and it was a definite possibility that she would never be heard. She wasn't sure whether the adrenaline this thought inspired in her young joints and athelete's heart was from fear or anticipation. Perhaps it was both.

His arms were around her before the cigarette had fizzled itself into ashes. His lips brushed her cheek vaguely, even colder than usual. She turned to greet his angular face with a smile and saw that, when his lips turned up in reciprocation, his eyes didn't follow suit. There was something wrong with Angel.

"How long you been here?"

"Ten minutes or so. I just wanted to watch you for a little while. The only time you really see the true face of a person is when they don't know you're looking."

"Freak. That why you're so into watching me sleep?"

He smiled, this time with his eyes, too.

"Maybe."

Faith wrinkled her nose in pretence at disgust, eyes sparkling with a happiness that buzzed belligerently within her belly. Already she could feel the symptoms of infatuation coarsing vibrantly through her body, so heady and rich that it made her feel as if she was swooning under peeling sunlight, so bright that she couldn't see. She wanted to jump and throw her arms into the air and sing. It made her uneasy, queasy at the recognition of a familiar illness. Everytime she got those feelings they ultimately betrayed her.

"Is something up? Something's up. You're...'

She found herself stuttering attempts at syllables as she tried to articulate what was different about him. There was a confidence that she'd never noticed before, a palatable sense of intense self-satisfaction that the Angel she knew and -yes- loved would never have been capable of mustering. Despite her unease, she couldn't deny it was attractive.

'...Different.'

Inside, she rolled her eyes at the word's inadequacy. It would do.

He grinned again. It was maddening. She'd always got the feeling Angel had a secret internal number that dictated how much he could smile in a year. If that was true, he'd used up a good six month's supply in the space of a minute.

'I feel different. It's you. It must be.'

She thanked every deity she could think of that her run and the cold obscured the hot blush that would have otherwise shone like a beacon from her face. She couldn't believe what a betrayer the body was when she got like this. Her stomach pounded heavily and her head fluttered lightly, both punctuated by a sort of directionless excitement that only the sight of Angel inspired. Her eyes swam over his shoulders, his hair, his eyes. She was in love alright. What a fine mess they had gotten themselves into.

'You're one cheesy sonuva. Dude, lines like that don't work on chicks like me, 'kay?'

He grinned again, almost grotesque in his smugness. Maddening!

'Oh Faith, Faith, Faith. We all know that's not true. Deep down....you're a scared, silly little girl.'

Faith rose her eyebrow, a chill wafting across her that wasn't entirely down to the temperature. Her attention was so fixed on this new Angel that she didn't notice two arch figures floating silently behind her, ropes in their hands.

'And Spike and Dru here will prove it.'


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