A Little Light

Rome, Italy
March 18, 2008
06:11

I feel like everything I saw
Is being swept away
When I refuse to let you go.
- Muse, "Map of the Problematique"


"There she was, just a-walking down the street, singing doo-wah-diddy, diddy-dum, diddy-do.." The alarm clock is blasting. I know this, but I can't move. I think I've only been asleep for an hour, and I'm pretty pissed about it. A way-too-awake voice starts talking over the music. I try to make it disappear using telepathy, but no joy.

"It's time to rise and shine, morning glory."

I hate you.

"I brought bagels."

I wish I'd brought a gun.

"I have coffee."

I half-open one eye. "Doo-wah." Andrew smiles brightly and sets a cardboard cup down on the nightstand. "If it's got milk in it, I'm going back to sleep."

"It's black with ten packets of sugar, just like you asked for, Senorita Grumpypants."

I force myself to roll over onto my back and thank god that he didn't open the curtains. "Signorina. Senorita's Spanish."

"Potato, tomato." I smile a little despite myself. It's not his fault that I couldn't sleep on the flight. He's just doing what Giles asked him to. Which is apparently to baby-sit me until Buffy takes over.

Yeah. I'm pretty sure Giles forgot to mention that. That, I think I would have remembered. Apparently, you can't just walk inside this castle that's become Slayer Central, so Buffy's sending a car or a mule or something to get me. I thought it was a little weird, coming across.. however many countries it is.. instead of flying directly there, but Andrew explained that Europe's so small, it's kind of like crossing a couple of states instead of countries. He also explained that the flights in and out of the U.K. are being watched by some people who want to take out the Slayer line, and with me and Buffy being the top rung on that ladder..

Probably best that I'm chilling in Italy right now. I'm so exhausted, I'd probably offer to shoot myself before anyone else could even try.

I let out a yawn and pick up the coffee, guzzling the whole thing in one gulp. I check around for more, but there doesn't seem to be any; just Andrew frowning at me. "What?"

He shrugs. "I thought that much sugar might have had an effect on you. Heart attack, Diabetic coma.. The whole thing was incredibly anticlimactic for me."

"Sorry I didn't give you a climax."

His face pales a little and takes on a green hue. "Gross." I finally slide out of bed and he takes it as his cue to leave. Which is good, since I was in desperate need of a shower twelve hours ago. Now I'm just short of being condemned by the Board of Health.

I've probably been in the shower twenty minutes or so when he comes knocking on the door. "If the hotel isn't burning down, I'm going to shoot you. I swear to god." There's a slight hesitation as if he's considering his options, and then he knocks again. I growl and reach outside the curtain, chucking the mini bottle of shampoo at the door. "Fuck a duck, Andrew! What the hell do you want?"

The door opens a few inches, letting in a chilly breeze, and a slightly gravelly voice says "It's not Andrew."

I pull back the curtain, because I can't believe it's actually her, and she freezes at the sight of me. It's really cold in here now, and being a girl, and a perverted one at that, I have to work hard to not think of Buffy as a deer in MY headlights. "You're, uh.. you're naked." She's trying not to look at my chest, in all it's cold-induced, hard-nippled glory, and doing a pretty miserable job of it.

I scowl. "Did you think I showered in mukluks and a parka?"

To my amusement, she actually looks sheepish as she mumbles an apology and ducks out. Imaginary scoreboard time. Faith: 1, Buffy: 0.

I get a slightly weird satisfaction out of Buffy's obvious discomfort when I walk out of the bathroom in my towel to get dressed. Even as hotel towels go, it's small, so I know she sees my ass when I bend over to dig out some clothes. I can feel her staring, but it's alright. I have a nice ass.

I finish getting dressed and sit in the stray armchair since Queen Buffy's taken it upon herself to sit on the bed.

"So.."

I raise an eyebrow. "You called me here, you showed up and burst in on me in the shower, and you're expecting me to open the conversation?"

She blushes and I add another tally to my score. "Well, I just.. this Twilight thing. Giles filled you in, right?" I nod. "I think it's going to be big, so I figured we need all the firepower we can get. You're a big gun, so.."

I light a cigarette and to her credit she only wrinkles her nose instead of gagging loudly. I give her a point for that. "Four million Slayers under your command, and you want me?"

"Five hundred, actually. I mean--five hundred that work with me. About twelve hundred more that we know about, but don't work with us. Right now I've got about three hundred in various teams around the world, and two hundred at the compound."

"Those are some.. impressive statistics, really. But even with only two hundred aboard the mother ship, why do you need me?"

"They're green. Really green. Leah, Rowena, and Satsu are the best I have, and they're still not as good as we are. Vi, Rona, and Caridad are the most experienced I have, and they're still not as good. We've been doing it longer and better than anyone else, and whether I like it or not, I need you."

"Do you?"

She looks confused. "What?"

"Like it. That you need me."

"Is that even relevant?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I stand up and flick my ash on the carpet, which makes her wince. "Because I have a right to know. You're coming to me, and asking me for help, and I don't think it's so crazy that I want to know where we're standing. Are you asking me to help because it's the only way you're going to win, or are you asking me for help because you respect me and trust me as an ally?"

She looks uncomfortable. One more point in my favor. "I don't.. I don't NOT respect you or trust you."

"So.. you don't trust me, but you don't not trust me?" She nods. "Then.. what do you feel about me?"

"Honestly? I don't. I don't feel anything, or think anything." She lowers her voice. "It's been a long time, Faith. I can't feel anything about someone that I.."

I tighten my grip on the cigarette. "That you what?"

When she answers, her voice is sad, and her response hits me like a knife to the gut. Again. "That I don't even know."