The Gift-Fic Mini Series: Faith's POV
by faith_slayer89
I feel...I dunno what feel. My therapist -oh, alright, the dude that comes in once a month to get all of us inmates to "express our feelings" (what a load of bullshit)- says that I shouldn't keep things bottled up. But I don't know what there is to keep bottled up. I feel nothing. ...I think.

B's dead. Only a year ago, I would have been hyped to hear that. The blonde bitch finally got what she deserved. Only now I'm thinking, did she deserve it (It's this reformation crap; I've gotten all nice and compassionate...sort of.)?

B was my friend -at first. In all fairness to her, I'm the one who went evil. Jumped Xander's bones then nearly strangled him, killed a man then tried to frame B for it, kidnapped Willow, poisoned Angel (who, ironically, is the one friend I've actually got left), switched bodies with B and slept with her boyfriend (damn, don't even remember his name -threw down pretty damn good, though)...the list goes on. All these terrible things I've done. But in all fairness to me, I turned myself in. I'm seeking (ha, insert laugh here) atonement. This is Angel's gig, I know, but I guess now he's got a partner in crime.

All the things I've done...Buffy. It all comes back to her, doesn't it? I had to be the cooler Slayer, just to outdo Buffy. Who's life was I jealous of? Buffy's. Who had everything I ever wanted? Buffy. Who did I switch bodies with? Buffy. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. Why did I seek redemption? ...Well now, that answer's a bit more complicated. But you can guess what the basic answer is: Buffy. That look in her eyes when she came to L.A., when she realized Angel was protecting me (which is another one of those unbelievable moments)...cold fury (most likely directed towards Angel), hatred (most definitely directly towards me). The worst part was, she was after me, just as much as those wannabe-Watchers were. She hated me, plain and simple. After all, why not?

So when the chips were down, I turned myself in. Sure, I bailed Angel out of a pretty tight spot, and that guilty conscience of mine (didn't really knew I had one till then) eased up off me a bit, but mostly, I figured that that look of disgust B had in her eyes every time she looked at me would go away. That the betrayal I did, she might forgive me for. Hell, I'll admit it now, I thought we might have even been able to become friends. Real friends, the kind you trust with your life without a second thought. 'Cause havin' B's trust...it would have been like no one else's.

I'm grateful for Angel. I am. He's as close to a best friend as someone like me can get. He visits me once a week, keeps me sane with those inspirational little pep talks of his. Hell, the dude even brought me some brownies for my birthday. If that doesn't warrant eternal gratitude, I dunno what does.

But havin' B treat me like that, support me that way, knowing that I could expect brownies from her? That's something special in a way you don't even know. I once told her, "We're Slayers, girlfriend. The Chosen Two." And that we are. As much as she might hate -have hated (damn, gotta start usin' those past tenses now)- to admit it, and as relieved as I am to know it, we've got -had- a bond. There was something special that only the two of us shared. The joys and incredible burden of bein' a Slayer. B would know more about that than me, but I can empathize all the same.

Angel came to visit me last night. Which wasn't unusual, except that I'd had this bad feeling all day (Slayer's gotta trust her senses, y'know). Soon as I saw him, I knew something was up. He just looked a little more broody than usual.

"Angel...what's up? Come to give me another helpin' of 'Why Redemption is the Way to Go'? ...Angel? Come on, you know I'm just foolin' around. If it weren't for you, man, I'd probably go crazy. Well, crazier. Not exactly on the level here, anyway...Angel?"

He just looked at me, with those big, sad eyes, that seemed, if it were at all possible, more hurt and depressed than ever before. It scared me.

"Angel, what happened?"

Stupid question, since I already figured the answer. But I had to ask it, all the same. He just looked at me, with this blank, faraway stare in his eyes. Then his head drooped. Then I got it. It had really happened. It hadn't been a dream.

"No."

"Yes."

"God, no."

"Faith..."

You would think, that I would have burst into tears. Actually, that was Angel (you need to do a bit more brushing-up on your Buffy-Faith history...though I guess I kinda just gave you the Cliff Notes version).

"Angel, I'm so sorry."

My voice started to crack. I will admit this to no one, but I was this close to crying. Not because of Buffy's death; I don't think I had processed that yet. But for Angel. For his loss, for his pain.

"She's...gone."

And as quickly as the tears began, they stopped. He took some deep, shuddering breaths, then sighed.

"I don't...all the details, I don't..."

"It wasn't vampires," I'd said quickly, wanting to assure him.

"Yeah, I know. Willow said -wait, what?"

Then I launched into my explanation about that wicked-intense dream I'd had the previous week.

"Thought I was slippin' back into the land of the crazies," I'd joked feebly.

"Should've known you would've known. That Slayer bond the two of you have...had..."

Just when I thought he was gonna get all waterworks on me again, he pulled it together. If there's one thing that'll throw my world upside down, it's seeing the strongest person I know lose it.

"Funeral's tomorrow night."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"And how exactly am I supposed to attend this thing? In case you didn't notice, I'm in jail."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

"'Sides," I replied, trying to play it off, "Not like I can trade in this wonderful orange for a black jumpsuit, instead."

He smiled sadly, and got up, ready to leave.

"Tell the others...give 'em my condolensces. Please. ...Especially Dawn," I'd added, feeling a pang of sympathy for the last Summers. Doubt she'd care, since I tortured her and all. Yet another one of my brilliant plans to make Buffy's life as much of a hell as mine was.

So now here I am, when all of them are in Sunnydale. Angel, Wes, Cordelia, they all went. The whole gang is there. Minus one. Two, if you count Buffy. But she's there, in a way, and I was never really a part of their little clique anyway, so it's a big grand reunion with everyone that matters.

So what am I feeling?

Hurt. Because I'm not there, and no one's going, "God, Faith should be here. Buffy would have wanted her here." 'Cause we all know what a damn lie that is.

Guilty. Because once again, I'm thinking of myself.

Anger. Because even after death, it's still Buffy who's in the limelight.

Some more guilt. Same reason as last time.

Loneliness. Because now that stupid phrase, "Into every generation, one Slayer is born," it fits me now. There is no Chosen Two anymore. It's just the One. The One being me.

Yet another wave of guilt. This time because, yeah, I'm the Chosen One. Which means that I should be the one out there Slaying, taking care of everyone, keeping the world safe. Instead, where am I? Jail.

Loss. Because once upon a time, B was my friend. I remember that. I remember that she tried to help me. See, I always thought -even with our short lifespans- that there'd be time to reconnect with her. And now, she's dead.

Sadness, because...God, Buffy's dead. Dead.

Fuck, Buffy, why'd you have to go? Why the Hell did you have to leave me all alone? Huh? Why the Hell? Some punishment for all the bad, evil things I did? Damn it, I'm sorry. I'm atoning. I am. You might not believe me, but I am. I wanna make it up to you, and I will. ...No, I won't. Because...

You're really gone. ...Maybe...if I lived up to the way a Slayer should have been, to the way you were, I wouldn't be in this damn cold concrete cell. I could've been there with you, B, could have helped you...damn, maybe I could have even saved you.

But I didn't. And so you died.

So now I'm gonna do something I never did before. I'm gonna cry. I'm gonna wail long and hard, and mourn your loss. I figure that's what everyone else is doing up in Sunnydale, anyway. I'm gonna cry for you, for what you could have been, for the life you could have had, and the only selfish thought I'll have is the one where I hope that wherever you are (And I pray that it's a good place, where you're at peace, 'cause you sure as Hell deserve it, B.), you forgive me.

So here I am, with the crying. Crying so hard, the warden thinks I've probably relapsed into Psychosville. Crying so hard, I feel like I want to throw up. Because of Buffy. Always because of Buffy.

Buffy's gone.

She's dead.

The Chosen Two are dead.

Technically, I'm still alive. Got a heartbeat, and all. But I feel like I'm dead inside.

So now, I'd appreciate it if you got the Hell out of my face before I re-arrange yours. Don't mess with me; I'm grieving. For Buffy.

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