Necessary Echoes
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,090
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,090
Reviews:
4
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.
Necessary Echoes
Necessary Echoes
Author: ELR
Rating: I dunno. There's swearing in it.
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from. And I have no idea if it's any good, or if it even makes any type of sense. But hell, I wrote it, you can read it (if you want) but just don't tell me if you hate it. My ego is fragile you see..
~ ~ ~
Her pen shifts over the paper, the nib pushing down into the paper and leaving an indentation that the ink fills all at the same time. She's sat in a bar, she doesn't remember which one, all she knows is that it's dark, dank, smells of stale sweat and sour beer, and it's cheap. She sits at the bar, paper in front of her, pen in one hand, the other holding her glass above her head, as she rests her elbow on the darkened wooden surface.
On some level, she's completely aware of her surroundings, instantly knowing where every single exit is, that there are exactly 13 cars in the lot, that the fat man with flannel and a skanky beard is the one who owns the truck and probably has a gun in the dash. She feels the weather outside, and knows that at this altitude and this level of cold she could run flat out for 7 miles without her breathing becoming harsh.
But that's subconscious, and she doesn't even know the level of multitasking that's currently going on in the back of her brain. All she's really aware of is her paper, her pen and the glass in her hand. It's times like this that she wishes she smoked, but she'll never start too, it reminds her of you too much. The bitter sweet smell of the burning drug curls around her senses and wraps her mind up in a twister of you. She can even remember what brand you smoke.
It's been like this since Sunnydale dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen again and never to be missed. For some reason, map surveys just didn't put the town back on the newer versions, and they did it without thinking. She thinks maybe willow and her apprentices had a little something to do with that, but she doesn't question them. They're all too busy running around and finding more slayers, training the new ones and sending the older ones out into the darkness. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't.
She doesn't really do anything now though. She doesn't have too cause you know, the new council's given her so much money; she doesn't know what the hell to do with it. So instead of going off and building something with the money, she's decided to be selfish for once. She lives in Italy, in a small apartment that's just big enough for her, and sometimes she houses other slayers that're working in the area.
That's just a hobby now. Her main thing is writing. Don't look at me, I have no idea what's on those pages, not allowed to look. It's up to her if she wants anyone to see the things she couldn't bring herself to say. Maybe she's just looking for the right person. Maybe the right person's you, you know?
You left so quickly after the end of Sunnydale. Got on the bus with everyone and when that big yellow bus arrived in L.A you disembarked with everyone else, but because of the confusion, no one noticed you were gone until they ordered food. They ordered too much you know. Six pizza's more actually. Because when you're around they always had to order twice the amount because otherwise you'd end up eating most of it and everyone would still be hungry. Yeah, don't look at me like that you know that I know.
So yeah, I've been here the entire time you have. I mean, on this plane, earth. The mortal coil, only I ain't mortal and you know that too. I was there when you were a kid, when sometimes the nights would get too cold and you hadn't got a blanket, I was there, that was when you became warmer. I was there when you were on drugs, pushing them out of your system as fast as I could, even though you just as quickly pumped yourself full of more. But you never really did get addicted, did you? Yeah, that was me. And all those near misses when you were trying to fight your way out of a situation you knew your mouth got you into? I was there too. I've been watching your back your entire life.
And I still am doing.
I'm here, with her, watching over her for you, and all you can do is look at me with those deep as fuck eyes and that slight pout to your lower lip, hoping it'll affect me like it got almost everyone else in your whole damn life. Well fuck no girl, this time it isn't working, this time I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, exactly what you need me to do; watching over the one thing you can't seem to live without.
Yeah, I'm in your head too, didn't you know that? I'm fucking everywhere with you Faith. I'm a part of you, but I'm a completely different stream of consciousness. Ever figured out why you felt so old and felt so young at the same time? Cause I've been here the whole time, I've been here from the beginning. From the very first of you. And let me tell you, being in this day and age is so much better; I actually get more than a grunt of an answer when I talk now. Well, most of the time anyway.
I can see what blondie girl means when it comes to your choice of articulation.
I had a much easier time with her than I have with you. She didn't fight me, thinking I was some god-awful possession. She knew exactly what I was because she didn't fight me. See, she's let people in her whole life, knowing that if she gets screwed over it's her own damn fault, but doing it anyway, because shutting yourself off from everyone is no way to live. She accepted me like she accepts the need to breathe.
Only, she died and then I got that stuck up Jamaican bitch who wouldn't know who I was if I bitch slapped her upside the head and knocked her clean into next fucking year. Never listened to me that one, always thought she knew better than me.
But hey, at least you listened to me sometimes.
Stop staring at me like that, do you think it's fucking easy to be split into like a million pieces now? Why the fuck she had to get the idea of waking them all up is beyond me, and she never really thought about what it meant, did she? The reason there's only every one of you at a time is because I'm a living, breathing entity and I don't much like being split in half. Or a million.
Yeah, always wondered where that connection came from, didn't you? That was me. And yeah, that's why you can't feel anyone else. I didn't have the time, nor the effort to connect every fucking one of you up. So I just left it as you and her. Besides, it's not as if either of you mind anyway.
Even if the pair of you fight more than you should. Damn, I thought attraction was what brought people together, not split them apart.
And don't look at me like that, I told you; I've been here the whole time.
Oh hark, she moves. Shifts her weight is more like it, but she never stops her writing. I'm dying to find out what she spends so much time on, is it separate things or just the one? Maybe it's just the one, but then, if it is it's gotta be a big fucking thing, she's been writing about it for nearly two years now.
Anyway, the point of this monologue and the point of this free pay per view of her while you're sleeping, is so you'll get off your fucking ass and finally decide to do something about it. You did what you needed to do, you went back and proved to yourself that you're better than the scum you came from, and that even though the world is full of people just like you and me now, you're still one of the best and you're still needed. So what the fuck are you doing?
Get off your fucking backside and go to her.
I really wanna find out what she's writing about.
~ ~ ~
The bar she stepped into stank, but it was an old and familiar smell; dirty floors and beer, stale sweat and in a very small degree, the smell of vomit wafting from the bathrooms. She didn't have any doubt a wha what she was doing here, because her fucking slayer had brought her out of REM the other night and shown her something she was desperately trying to forget. How the fuck was she to know that she didn't control the slayer, but the other way around.
Yeah, she got used to that fact a while back, and her slayer was always right. Which narked her.
Her eyes flickered over the patrons of the dive bar until they came to rest on the blonde head of the person she'd apparently got her slayer to watch over for her. She looked pretty much like she did when her inner beast brought her consciousness to the lighter slayer; scribbling in a leather bound book, head bent down and a look of complete concentration on her face. But something was different this time. Something was new. There was a small but neat stack of leather bound books by her this time, and almost immediately Faith could smell the sweet sent of vanilla over everything else.
Without a word she walked over and sat in the stool next to her companion, a beer already in front of her and a small smile curling up the corners of her counter parts lips. They didn't say anything to each other, or look the other in the eyes. They didn't need to. Because the entity that was inside of them were communicating with each other, and at times when it became loud inside of their heads it was almost as if they were telepathically linked together.
Taking a sip of her drink she reached into her jacket and pulled out her smokes, tapping one from the carton and slipping it into her mouth before lighting it. She could feel Buffy's eyes on her as she did this, knowing the blonde hadn't moved her body at all. She missed the smell that was Faith; cigarettes and cinnamon, fresh air and adrenalin. The blonde inhaled deeply as Faith blew the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, into a small cloud in front of her friend.
She did it without thinking, did it knowing that that was exactly what the blonde needed.
Still they didn't look each other in the eyes.
The voice inside of her head whispered too her, using Buffy's voice as it spoke and knew that that was exactly what Buffy wanted. Without a word she reached over and pulled the first leather journal from the pile, dropping it to the bar in front of her and opened up the cover.
She could near Buffy's pen resume it's gentle scratching on the page, saw out of the corner of her eye as the blonde took a sip from her drink, her eyes still glued to the page as she continued to write. The brunette turned her eyes back to the page, letting the title and it's sub-title wash over her brain and she felt the smile that tickled the inside of her skull, could feel the soft tingle as her slayer chuckled, shaking her head as she too took in the words before them.
Without taking her eyes off the page, Faith reached her left hand out, not even having to look at what she was doing, and placed her palm softly on the top of Buffy's thigh, giving the firm, rippling muscle a gentle squeeze as she turned the page and started the read. Both girls continued what they were doing.
Both girls smiling.
The Story Of Us:
A Buffy and Faith Story
-
Book 1: Before Faith
Author: ELR
Rating: I dunno. There's swearing in it.
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from. And I have no idea if it's any good, or if it even makes any type of sense. But hell, I wrote it, you can read it (if you want) but just don't tell me if you hate it. My ego is fragile you see..
~ ~ ~
Her pen shifts over the paper, the nib pushing down into the paper and leaving an indentation that the ink fills all at the same time. She's sat in a bar, she doesn't remember which one, all she knows is that it's dark, dank, smells of stale sweat and sour beer, and it's cheap. She sits at the bar, paper in front of her, pen in one hand, the other holding her glass above her head, as she rests her elbow on the darkened wooden surface.
On some level, she's completely aware of her surroundings, instantly knowing where every single exit is, that there are exactly 13 cars in the lot, that the fat man with flannel and a skanky beard is the one who owns the truck and probably has a gun in the dash. She feels the weather outside, and knows that at this altitude and this level of cold she could run flat out for 7 miles without her breathing becoming harsh.
But that's subconscious, and she doesn't even know the level of multitasking that's currently going on in the back of her brain. All she's really aware of is her paper, her pen and the glass in her hand. It's times like this that she wishes she smoked, but she'll never start too, it reminds her of you too much. The bitter sweet smell of the burning drug curls around her senses and wraps her mind up in a twister of you. She can even remember what brand you smoke.
It's been like this since Sunnydale dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen again and never to be missed. For some reason, map surveys just didn't put the town back on the newer versions, and they did it without thinking. She thinks maybe willow and her apprentices had a little something to do with that, but she doesn't question them. They're all too busy running around and finding more slayers, training the new ones and sending the older ones out into the darkness. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't.
She doesn't really do anything now though. She doesn't have too cause you know, the new council's given her so much money; she doesn't know what the hell to do with it. So instead of going off and building something with the money, she's decided to be selfish for once. She lives in Italy, in a small apartment that's just big enough for her, and sometimes she houses other slayers that're working in the area.
That's just a hobby now. Her main thing is writing. Don't look at me, I have no idea what's on those pages, not allowed to look. It's up to her if she wants anyone to see the things she couldn't bring herself to say. Maybe she's just looking for the right person. Maybe the right person's you, you know?
You left so quickly after the end of Sunnydale. Got on the bus with everyone and when that big yellow bus arrived in L.A you disembarked with everyone else, but because of the confusion, no one noticed you were gone until they ordered food. They ordered too much you know. Six pizza's more actually. Because when you're around they always had to order twice the amount because otherwise you'd end up eating most of it and everyone would still be hungry. Yeah, don't look at me like that you know that I know.
So yeah, I've been here the entire time you have. I mean, on this plane, earth. The mortal coil, only I ain't mortal and you know that too. I was there when you were a kid, when sometimes the nights would get too cold and you hadn't got a blanket, I was there, that was when you became warmer. I was there when you were on drugs, pushing them out of your system as fast as I could, even though you just as quickly pumped yourself full of more. But you never really did get addicted, did you? Yeah, that was me. And all those near misses when you were trying to fight your way out of a situation you knew your mouth got you into? I was there too. I've been watching your back your entire life.
And I still am doing.
I'm here, with her, watching over her for you, and all you can do is look at me with those deep as fuck eyes and that slight pout to your lower lip, hoping it'll affect me like it got almost everyone else in your whole damn life. Well fuck no girl, this time it isn't working, this time I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, exactly what you need me to do; watching over the one thing you can't seem to live without.
Yeah, I'm in your head too, didn't you know that? I'm fucking everywhere with you Faith. I'm a part of you, but I'm a completely different stream of consciousness. Ever figured out why you felt so old and felt so young at the same time? Cause I've been here the whole time, I've been here from the beginning. From the very first of you. And let me tell you, being in this day and age is so much better; I actually get more than a grunt of an answer when I talk now. Well, most of the time anyway.
I can see what blondie girl means when it comes to your choice of articulation.
I had a much easier time with her than I have with you. She didn't fight me, thinking I was some god-awful possession. She knew exactly what I was because she didn't fight me. See, she's let people in her whole life, knowing that if she gets screwed over it's her own damn fault, but doing it anyway, because shutting yourself off from everyone is no way to live. She accepted me like she accepts the need to breathe.
Only, she died and then I got that stuck up Jamaican bitch who wouldn't know who I was if I bitch slapped her upside the head and knocked her clean into next fucking year. Never listened to me that one, always thought she knew better than me.
But hey, at least you listened to me sometimes.
Stop staring at me like that, do you think it's fucking easy to be split into like a million pieces now? Why the fuck she had to get the idea of waking them all up is beyond me, and she never really thought about what it meant, did she? The reason there's only every one of you at a time is because I'm a living, breathing entity and I don't much like being split in half. Or a million.
Yeah, always wondered where that connection came from, didn't you? That was me. And yeah, that's why you can't feel anyone else. I didn't have the time, nor the effort to connect every fucking one of you up. So I just left it as you and her. Besides, it's not as if either of you mind anyway.
Even if the pair of you fight more than you should. Damn, I thought attraction was what brought people together, not split them apart.
And don't look at me like that, I told you; I've been here the whole time.
Oh hark, she moves. Shifts her weight is more like it, but she never stops her writing. I'm dying to find out what she spends so much time on, is it separate things or just the one? Maybe it's just the one, but then, if it is it's gotta be a big fucking thing, she's been writing about it for nearly two years now.
Anyway, the point of this monologue and the point of this free pay per view of her while you're sleeping, is so you'll get off your fucking ass and finally decide to do something about it. You did what you needed to do, you went back and proved to yourself that you're better than the scum you came from, and that even though the world is full of people just like you and me now, you're still one of the best and you're still needed. So what the fuck are you doing?
Get off your fucking backside and go to her.
I really wanna find out what she's writing about.
~ ~ ~
The bar she stepped into stank, but it was an old and familiar smell; dirty floors and beer, stale sweat and in a very small degree, the smell of vomit wafting from the bathrooms. She didn't have any doubt a wha what she was doing here, because her fucking slayer had brought her out of REM the other night and shown her something she was desperately trying to forget. How the fuck was she to know that she didn't control the slayer, but the other way around.
Yeah, she got used to that fact a while back, and her slayer was always right. Which narked her.
Her eyes flickered over the patrons of the dive bar until they came to rest on the blonde head of the person she'd apparently got her slayer to watch over for her. She looked pretty much like she did when her inner beast brought her consciousness to the lighter slayer; scribbling in a leather bound book, head bent down and a look of complete concentration on her face. But something was different this time. Something was new. There was a small but neat stack of leather bound books by her this time, and almost immediately Faith could smell the sweet sent of vanilla over everything else.
Without a word she walked over and sat in the stool next to her companion, a beer already in front of her and a small smile curling up the corners of her counter parts lips. They didn't say anything to each other, or look the other in the eyes. They didn't need to. Because the entity that was inside of them were communicating with each other, and at times when it became loud inside of their heads it was almost as if they were telepathically linked together.
Taking a sip of her drink she reached into her jacket and pulled out her smokes, tapping one from the carton and slipping it into her mouth before lighting it. She could feel Buffy's eyes on her as she did this, knowing the blonde hadn't moved her body at all. She missed the smell that was Faith; cigarettes and cinnamon, fresh air and adrenalin. The blonde inhaled deeply as Faith blew the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, into a small cloud in front of her friend.
She did it without thinking, did it knowing that that was exactly what the blonde needed.
Still they didn't look each other in the eyes.
The voice inside of her head whispered too her, using Buffy's voice as it spoke and knew that that was exactly what Buffy wanted. Without a word she reached over and pulled the first leather journal from the pile, dropping it to the bar in front of her and opened up the cover.
She could near Buffy's pen resume it's gentle scratching on the page, saw out of the corner of her eye as the blonde took a sip from her drink, her eyes still glued to the page as she continued to write. The brunette turned her eyes back to the page, letting the title and it's sub-title wash over her brain and she felt the smile that tickled the inside of her skull, could feel the soft tingle as her slayer chuckled, shaking her head as she too took in the words before them.
Without taking her eyes off the page, Faith reached her left hand out, not even having to look at what she was doing, and placed her palm softly on the top of Buffy's thigh, giving the firm, rippling muscle a gentle squeeze as she turned the page and started the read. Both girls continued what they were doing.
Both girls smiling.
A Buffy and Faith Story
-
Book 1: Before Faith