A Little Light
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,373
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,373
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
3
Just outside Bern, Switzerland
March 18, 2008
10:32
I've grown to see the philosophy of my own mistrust,
We all have our faults;
Mine come in waves that you turn to rust.
- Starsailor, "Some of Us"
We've been driving in silence for hours. I don't know why I agreed to come. I don't know why I didn't tell her to fuck off and then head back to America. I probably could have been back in Boston in time for last call.
Maybe because I have an overdeveloped sense of duty these days. Maybe because I'm still trying to get her approval. Maybe because she had a point, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.
So Buffy doesn't know me. It's not news, really. She hasn't known me for a long time. And if you want to get technical about it, she never really did. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though. I always thought she understood me. That she knew what it was like to be different. But how could she? She had a mother, and a sister, and friends. She had a clean house, a bed to sleep in, and plenty of food. I'm not saying her life's been a big ball of rainbows, but how could someone like her ever understand the burden of being white trash, the lowest of the low?
I finally break the silence. "Do you want to?"
She doesn't take her eyes off the road, and her knuckles are turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. "Want to what?"
"Know me. You said you didn't. Back at the hotel. Do you want to, or are we just.. I mean, is this it? Just business?"
She digs her nails into the leather cover on the steering wheel. "Do we seriously need to talk about this now? When I'm sitting on the wrong side of the car that's driving down the wrong side of the road, and all the signs are in.. whatever the hell language they're in that isn't English?"
"I think it's German. And you're supposed to be on the right-hand side. And, yes. I want to talk about it now."
She scowls, loosening her grip only slightly. "Left. It's always left in Europe. They're all backwards here."
"No, right side, B. They drive on the right in Switzerland. And you're going above the speed limit."
"I can't read the signs." She's getting frustrated. "I don't speak German."
"Me, either, but I can read numbers. It says 50. You're doing 58."
I'm expecting her to blow up, to punch me, to scream at me. Instead, she pulls off the side of the road and slows to a stop before turning the car off. I'm getting nervous until she rests her forehead on the steering wheel, wraps her arms around her head, and starts shaking lightly.
"Are you okay? You're not.. having a seizure or something, are you?" She shakes her head a little, and I catch sight of the tears running down her cheeks, and get immediately uncomfortable. I can handle blood and guts, and being punched in the face, but crying is definitely not my thing, so I sit quietly for a few minutes. Sometimes you just have to let it out, and who am I to interrupt her big emotional vomit session? I weigh my options, decide against getting out of the car and reach over to pat her back a little instead.
"You uh.. you wanna talk about it?" God, I hope not. I'm not good at this, not at all.
"It's just.. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I thought I'd be free one day, y'know?" She lifts her tear-streaked face, looking out the windshield. "Not have to do all this. But it's worse now than it ever was. I'm not free, and I never will be. This is.. it. This is all I am. Slaying. Demons and vampire wolves and giant sisters and vindictive witches who cast spells on me and try to remove my best friend's eyes. It was really, really not supposed to be this way. I was going to quit, retire, whatever. Dawn was going to go to UCLA, and Xander was gonna make a lot of money and get married and I was gonna.. I don't know. I feel like I don't even know how to dream anymore."
She heaves a huge sigh, calming down a little. "Everything has always been about trying to be normal. I just wanted to go to college, and get a job, and marry some guy I was madly in love with, or at least that I could stand to be with for fifty years. I wanted kids. I wanted to bring them home to my mom--" she shudders a little and starts crying again. "Or at least be there for Dawn's kids. I just wanted.. I wanted.."
"A life," I supply.
After a few silent moments, she nods a little. "Yeah. That's it." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I just wanted a life."
March 18, 2008
10:32
I've grown to see the philosophy of my own mistrust,
We all have our faults;
Mine come in waves that you turn to rust.
- Starsailor, "Some of Us"
We've been driving in silence for hours. I don't know why I agreed to come. I don't know why I didn't tell her to fuck off and then head back to America. I probably could have been back in Boston in time for last call.
Maybe because I have an overdeveloped sense of duty these days. Maybe because I'm still trying to get her approval. Maybe because she had a point, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.
So Buffy doesn't know me. It's not news, really. She hasn't known me for a long time. And if you want to get technical about it, she never really did. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though. I always thought she understood me. That she knew what it was like to be different. But how could she? She had a mother, and a sister, and friends. She had a clean house, a bed to sleep in, and plenty of food. I'm not saying her life's been a big ball of rainbows, but how could someone like her ever understand the burden of being white trash, the lowest of the low?
I finally break the silence. "Do you want to?"
She doesn't take her eyes off the road, and her knuckles are turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. "Want to what?"
"Know me. You said you didn't. Back at the hotel. Do you want to, or are we just.. I mean, is this it? Just business?"
She digs her nails into the leather cover on the steering wheel. "Do we seriously need to talk about this now? When I'm sitting on the wrong side of the car that's driving down the wrong side of the road, and all the signs are in.. whatever the hell language they're in that isn't English?"
"I think it's German. And you're supposed to be on the right-hand side. And, yes. I want to talk about it now."
She scowls, loosening her grip only slightly. "Left. It's always left in Europe. They're all backwards here."
"No, right side, B. They drive on the right in Switzerland. And you're going above the speed limit."
"I can't read the signs." She's getting frustrated. "I don't speak German."
"Me, either, but I can read numbers. It says 50. You're doing 58."
I'm expecting her to blow up, to punch me, to scream at me. Instead, she pulls off the side of the road and slows to a stop before turning the car off. I'm getting nervous until she rests her forehead on the steering wheel, wraps her arms around her head, and starts shaking lightly.
"Are you okay? You're not.. having a seizure or something, are you?" She shakes her head a little, and I catch sight of the tears running down her cheeks, and get immediately uncomfortable. I can handle blood and guts, and being punched in the face, but crying is definitely not my thing, so I sit quietly for a few minutes. Sometimes you just have to let it out, and who am I to interrupt her big emotional vomit session? I weigh my options, decide against getting out of the car and reach over to pat her back a little instead.
"You uh.. you wanna talk about it?" God, I hope not. I'm not good at this, not at all.
"It's just.. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I thought I'd be free one day, y'know?" She lifts her tear-streaked face, looking out the windshield. "Not have to do all this. But it's worse now than it ever was. I'm not free, and I never will be. This is.. it. This is all I am. Slaying. Demons and vampire wolves and giant sisters and vindictive witches who cast spells on me and try to remove my best friend's eyes. It was really, really not supposed to be this way. I was going to quit, retire, whatever. Dawn was going to go to UCLA, and Xander was gonna make a lot of money and get married and I was gonna.. I don't know. I feel like I don't even know how to dream anymore."
She heaves a huge sigh, calming down a little. "Everything has always been about trying to be normal. I just wanted to go to college, and get a job, and marry some guy I was madly in love with, or at least that I could stand to be with for fifty years. I wanted kids. I wanted to bring them home to my mom--" she shudders a little and starts crying again. "Or at least be there for Dawn's kids. I just wanted.. I wanted.."
"A life," I supply.
After a few silent moments, she nods a little. "Yeah. That's it." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I just wanted a life."