Chapter 4
“And they called me the crazy one.”
The dark haired woman smirked as she said it, indicating that she was only playing with the redhead, who’s voice had grown weaker with every sentence uttered about how she had almost single-handedly destroyed world. When she’d reached the end of her confession, the only thing Faith could think of as a response was to tease her about it because, fuck, really? Surprise doesn’t cover how she’s feeling about this woman who looks like the girl she nicknamed Red so long ago. Shock would be a better word, and really with everything that she’s experienced in her life, including the pre-slayer years, Faith didn’t think something or someone could ever shock her so much again.
She was clearly wrong on that score.
“Yeh, well, you were kinda crazy back then,” Willow replied.
Faith frowned at the sheepish look that accompanied Willow’s words, and eventually shrugged her shoulders. Because yeh, she had been a bit crazy back in the day, no point denying it.
As she watched Faith toy with her Marlboro packet on the table top, flipping it onto its side and then back over again, Willow released a deep breath she felt she had been holding inside her for months. Feeling instantly lighter the moment she did.
It hadn’t been as difficult to explain as she thought it would be. Faith, it turned out, was a good listener. And wasn’t that a pretty big surprise to find out now after all these years, because back in high school all Willow could recall was how many times Faith didn’t listen, to any of them. But the woman who sat still and silent opposite her now in a greasy backwater diner Willow didn’t even know the name of, was doing the one thing she had never done in the past, and surprisingly it was the one thing the Wicca so desperately needed. Faith listened. She didn’t interrupt every five seconds to ask a question or make a stupid remark like some of the potentials did back at the house the last time she had told her story. When Buffy thought it was only right they should all know how dangerous magic can be and the risks that come with it. How powerful and evil Willow could become if she let it take hold of her again.
She’d been annoyed at the blonde slayer for making her take the floor in the first place, because it wasn’t like she had any intention of going back to being Evil Willow and weren’t these poor young women scared enough already with the dangers on the outside, to then be told that there was a pretty big danger living inside the same four walls as them was perhaps overkill. But Buffy asked her to do it, in that way she has when a request comes out as an order, so Willow obeyed, like she always does and grew annoyed at her best friend for the first time in a long time. Then she became even more annoyed at the interruptions coming from the would be slayers, all in awe of Willow when she spoke about how much magic is needed to do the things she did, but they were mostly wigged out from imagining a dark haired kick-ass version of the kindly redhead they’d all been looking up to, the questions about how it all happened were relentless. At least Kennedy hadn’t interrupted or asked awkward questions, like how it felt to have that much power.
It felt amazing, Willow wanted to say when one of them eventually found the courage to ask her just that. It was the truth after all. She’d discovered over time that most things that are really really bad for you actually make you feel really really good at first. Extra sugary extra caffeiney mochas are her favourite but always give her huge mind numbing headaches after she’s drank them. The sticky stuff she likes to lick off the glazed donuts Xander always buys would one day rot her teeth, but that doesn’t stop her from being the first one to dive into the box. And the magic that courses through her veins every day, that has to be controlled every minute because of where it might lead her to, makes her feel so alive, so powerful and real in the moments she uses it, that nothing else on Earth can even touch it.
She couldn’t tell that to the rest of them though. They’d definitely start to freak out, or freak out more would be the accurate term she supposed. None of the girls have really stopped wigging out since arriving in Sunnydale and meeting all the Big Bad that had also come to town. So Willow kept that part of her story to herself. Not even telling Buffy afterwards when all the girls had gone to bed, and the blonde reached out to Willow slumped exhausted on the coach and asked her if she were alright. She knows her best friend can’t handle hearing the truth sometimes, finding out that that the magic inside Willow makes her feel alive when sometimes nothing else can wasn’t something Buffy was ever going to deal well with hearing. So she simply shrugged her shoulders in response and let the Slayer continue to think that the Wicca had it covered.
She had considered telling Kennedy, because they’d already gone through a few scary magic moments together and she was genuinely fond of the younger woman, but something held her back. She still wasn’t sure why (she’s not Tara!) Willow couldn’t even admit it to Xander, the boy she’d been telling her secrets to ever since kindergarten when he stole her Malibu Barbie doll, sealing their lives and their fates together for eternity.
But no, none of them had felt right to Willow. None of them felt like they deserved to hear her truth. And there was a small incredulous smile on the redhead’s face when she realised who she had deemed worthy enough to be deserving of it.
The one person she could tell the darkest parts of her story to, who she could reveal the darkest parts of herself to, had ironically turned out to be the girl she had hated during high school. The girl she would have found any excuse to not speak with back then. The girl who had turned into the woman before her, too many lines on her young face betraying the hard life she’s lived. The pain hidden deep in brown eyes which reminded Willow of what she sees reflecting back at her, each time she looks in the mirror.
There was silence between them again. Faith couldn’t meet Willow’s gaze, now that the Wicca had finally stopped talking. The dark haired woman had a million thoughts rushing through her head, none of which made sense enough for her to grab on to one and slow it down.
She wanted to know what kind of world allows a nice kid like Red to get so fucked up she tries to destroy it? Was it even a world worth saving? And where were the rest of the Scoobies when this was happening? Faith couldn’t believe that they all sat back, and impassively watched their precious Willow go to hell and back.
Though they didn’t mind kicking back and see that happen to me, the brunette thought, not liking the sudden clarity her racing mind found. Remembering a time when she knew the kind of darkness and power Willow talked about. Knew it, embraced it, and was its bitch for a while. She also remembered how her darkness and power made the others feel around her. How it had turned some of them on, and left others quaking in their flat-footed shoes. She remembered a not so gentle caress in the dead of night. A fleeting brush of soft lips against her own then a more insistent tongue. Leather getting hot, getting moist, a hand reaching inside and just taking what it wanted. Only to be followed with denial when the sun came out, making the streets safer again, and it was time to face up to what they’d done. Time to do the right thing, but Faith hadn’t, had she? And where were the Scoobies through all this? Where was B when she needed her? Just like Red must have needed her and the blonde wasn’t around. How the hell she could call herself a hero when she’d failed to save her best friend and her one time…
“Faith, you’re crying.”
Willow’s voice was tinged with surprise. Seeing the brunette across from her retreat into herself hadn’t fazed the Wicca, after all that was typical Faith behaviour from the old days. Seeing the slayer suddenly go teary eyes on her was definitely not typical Faith behaviour, Willow thought.
“What?!” Faith barked at her. “No I’m not!” She quickly wiped at her eyes, denying to herself that she felt her fingertips wet when she pulled them away.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Willow thought quickly how to salvage the situation. She could see the slayer was about to bolt or slam her, one of the two, and neither option was acceptable to the redhead.
Pale hands slid tentatively across the cold metal table top, freeing the packet of Marlboro’s the slayer was still fidgeting with and setting it aside. Taking the now empty hands firmly in her own, Willow ignored when Faith protested a little too loudly not to go unnoticed in the crowded diner, and held on even firmer when the brunette made a feeble attempt to pull physically away from the intuitive Wicca.
“I said it was okay. I mean, maybe not what made it happen in the first place is okay, ‘cause generally, random displays of emotion coming from a slayer not always of the good. But the fact that it happened in the first place, and there was slight leakage in the eye region, that’s okay. Okay?”
Willow sounded like the spaz she knew in high school, Faith thought. Getting used to the soothing presence of the redhead’s hands holding her own. Liking the small signs of old Willow because they only served to compliment the new.
She drew in a few steadying breaths, the green eyes opposite her intense in their concerned gaze. Faith couldn’t quite believe such a look was aimed at her. Never realised that Willow could care so much for her or that they’d ever be in a position where she wanted the redhead to care that much for her. Unable or unwilling to figure out what that actually meant for the two of them, Faith replied with an “okay” of her own, nodding her head once to reinforce to Willow that she was alright now. Even if she actually felt a million miles away from the feeling.
She looked down at Willow’s pale hands holding her own, and wondered not for the first time that day what the fuck was happening to her. Getting emotional and craving warm contact from another human being was just not something she did.
And it seemed Willow was having a similar thought.
“Have to say Faith,” the redhead smiled softly at the woman opposite her. “Didn’t see that coming.”
The brunette’s returning smile was more of a smirk, but it held no malice behind it.
“Neither did I,” the slayer replied. “Guess we’re even now.”
“And you came to that radical conclusion how?”
“Both of us have been badass chicks in the past,” Faith began. “And both of us have gone girly in here and done the crying thing. That makes us even in my book. Oh and Red, if you tell anyone I went misty eyed…”
Willow interrupted her. “I know I know, you’ll slayer pound me. Like that scares me anymore.”
Faith raised a surprised eyebrow at her and received a non-committal shrug from the redhead in return.
“And you’re wrong, you know?” Willow offered.
“Wrong about what?”
“We’re not even yet.” Willow paused, her face going serious again. “Because you haven’t kept your half of the deal.”
Oh that, the slayer thought.