Bostonian Musings.
By Maineiac
Rating R
I do not own the characters from BtVS, they belong to Joss and Mutant Enemies, nor do I own the verse this is written for, that belongs to Keith.
Warning: This fic deals with some dark subjects including child abuse and rape, though nothing graphic, there will also be scenes of violence and torture, so if you do not like the ideas of this, please do not read.
* * *
Kicked back, feet up, shades on, wind blowing through her hair, caressing her skin like a lover’s fingers. Faith smirked, damn, what a way to travel. Stretching her arms over her head, she decided this beat the hell out of the way she had arrived in Sunnydale, running for her life, hitching with anyone sleazy enough to stop to pick up a kid. Leaning back she felt the sun warming her face, and her foot tapped to the beat of the bass blasting through the speakers.
Turning her head, she looked at her traveling companion, noticing that he seemed more relaxed as well, the weight of the last few years having seemed to have lifted from his shoulders as well, at least for a time, and couldn’t help but grin.
Things could have gone so different if it hadn’t been for him. He’d saved her from her recklessness that night in the alley, a night that still gave her nightmares. Everything she was, everything she had, everything she stood for, almost lost by a second of carelessness. She’d almost become what she had spent her life trying to escape. Boston had left a black streak a mile wide on her soul.
She bore the marks of growing up in the streets, distrustful, always on guard, but in the last few months she’d learnt that not everyone was like those that had shaped her youth. There were still a few good souls left in the world, and she had found one in Xander.
She could still feel the chill of the hard Boston winters in her bones, scrounging for food and clothes in the cramped tenet house where she spent most of her early years, struggling to stay out of sight of the men and woman who preyed on those younger, weaker, than themselves, exploiting children for money, drugs and booze.
Reaching for the bottle of water that sat on the seat between them, she couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if she had had a friend like him back in the old neighborhood.
She remembered a few of the times when she had left the tenements and made her way uptown, walking on the cobblestone streets, stealing a few things from the vendors in Market Square, staring at the buildings that had stood there since the beginning of the country. How she’d longed for someone to notice her, to take her away from where she was, show her what a real family was like.
The times that had hurt the most were the holidays, when the rich would put up trees and pass out gifts, and she would be lucky to get out of the house before her mother’s nightly guests would start to arrive. She could still remember when she was ten and she had come home to find her mother passed out on the floor, and the gleam one of the men had gotten in his eye at the sight of her.
* * *
“Mom?” she called softly as she opened the door, afraid of interrupting her with one of her endless guys. Tip toeing towards her room, she glanced into the living room, and saw her mother sprawled in a chair, passed out either from drugs or booze, and one of her more regular visitors, Milo, sitting on the couch.
“Bout time ya got home girl,” the man’s voice was slightly slurred as he hefted himself up, lumbering towards her. “Seems your ma couldn’t keep up tonight, so, I guess you can fill in for her.”
He made a grab for her, missing as she turned and ran for the front door, hearing it slam against the wall as she flung it open and charged through it. Her mind latched onto one image, the look in his eyes as he’d watched her, licking his lips, and smiling a chilling smile as he rubbed his crotch, so she ran. It seemed to take forever, her lungs burning in the chilly night air, before she rounded the corner, seeing the one place she knew she could find help.
“Marco!” she screamed as she pounded on the door, trying to be heard over the sound of the stereo blasting from somewhere in the house.
“What the hell you want!” After a few seconds the door swung open to reveal the lumbering figure of her Ma’s boyfriend/pimp, the eyes in his unshaven face glittering angrily..
“Milo… mom’s… he tried to.” she told him, her voice shaking in fear, from Milo or Marco she wasn’t sure anymore.
“That bastard!” Marco muttered as he grabbed a jacket from behind the door and stormed past her. “Stay here, I’ll deal with it!” he growled before vanishing into the night. Forty minutes later he returned, telling her to go home, and she could not help but notice the cuts on his knuckles, and the blood on his clothes. Milo never returned.
* * *
When she had turned thirteen, and her body had started to show the woman she would one day be, her mother had explained to her just what she was good for, how she could ‘help’ support herself.
* * *
“You will do as I tell ya, ya little bitch!” her mom screamed, backhanding her in the face. “You ruined my chances at a life, now it’s time you started paying your own way.”
She was scared. Mom hitting her was nothing new, but before she had always taken great pains to make sure that the bruises would not show.
“Patty, settle down.” Marco said, grabbing her mom’s arm as she was about to hit her again. She knew she could count on the big man. “She’s still a bit young to be joining the team. Give it a few more years and she will bring top dollar.”
She watched, stunned by the words as he all but dragged her mom out, talking softly to calm her she thought, until she heard the sounds coming from the other room. As Marco’s words sunk in, she realized that she was doomed to follow her mother’s lead. As she went to hide, she wiped away the tear that was making its way down her face.
* * *
She could still recall in vivid detail the fight that had started one night about a month before her fourteenth birthday when she had walked into the house, still buzzing from boosting a car for a joy ride with the gang she hung with. Marco was sitting on the couch, his leather jacket slung across the back of it, and a drink in one hand. Her mother was sprawled half-dressed in his lap, looking like she had already finished her nightly duties to the man who all but owned her. Seeing the look he gave her, Faith had felt a shiver of fear sweep through her.
* * *
“It’s time.” He told her as he pushed her mother out of his lap. “Now why don’t you show me just what I have been saving you for.”
“In your dreams.” Faith shot back, her mood souring and her temper flaring, “She’s your whore not me!”
“I own you girl,.” Marco replied, his voice filled with menace. “Just like your old lady. I’ve owned you since the day you were born, keeping you, paying for your food, your clothes. Just like your mom, you were born a slut. It’s time you started paying back what’s owed..”
Her brain kicked in as she watched him coming at her, opening the button on his jeans and she turned, deciding now would be a good time to run, but his longer legs allowed him to catch her before she made it to the door. He grabbed a handful of her hair, tossing her back into the room where she landed in a heap by the end table. As fear of the large man and the look of lust in his eyes overwhelmed her, she reacted on instinct, snatching up the brass light from the table and swinging it up as hard as she could at the man as he loomed over her. Her aim was almost perfect, dropping him to one knee as the metal connected with his balls.
“You little bitch!” he roared in pain and anger. “You’re going to pay for that.”
She saw his fist coming at her, but was too slow to move, pain exploded in her jaw as her head snapped to the side. Her ears ringing from the blow, she could not hear what he was yelling at her, all she could think was how hard he hit as the blows rained down until, mercifully, she blacked out as his foot connected with her head.
* * *
“Oh fuck,” Faith moaned as she awoke, spitting blood out as she did so. Her head spinning, she looked up through her one still partially open eye. “Noo,” she sobbed as she tried to stand, only for her left leg to give way beneath her. Tears burnt her eyes, she’d never hurt so much in her life, her entire body felt like a giant bruise. Worst still was the pain in her groin, like something had been shoved inside her, looking down, she noticed blood staining her jeans crotch. Gasping with the effort, she crawled to the basement, wedging herself into the small space behind the furnace that had been her sanctuary as a child.
How long she stayed there, unable, unwilling,, to move she wasn’t sure, going in and out of the darkness that seemed to surround her even when she managed to open the one eye that was not swollen shut. When she was finally able to concentrate and hear the lack of movement from upstairs, she worked her way out from her hiding place, limping and barely able to stand from the pain that seemed to overwhelm her, crawling up the stairs. Using the wall to hold herself up, she slowly stumbled to her room.
Grabbing a small bag, she shoved some clothes into it, intending to leave before he tried again. Too stiff to climb out of her window as she had done in the past, she crept towards the living room, hoping she could make it out before they came back, or woke up, but when she turned the corner, what she saw both horrified and delighted her. Lying on the floor of the trashed room, blood congealing around him, was the tall form of Marco, and crumpled in the corner of the room, her neck at an odd angle, was her mother.
She’d seen enough corpses in her neighborhood to know that they were both dead, and, after ransacking the apartment for money, she left without even a backwards glance, closing the door behind her.
* * *
She ran into the cops on her way out of the building that day, and unable to escape notice because of the blood and bruises covering her, they took her first to the hospital and then to the station for questioning. After what seemed like hours, they finally figured out that someone of her size could not of killed her mom or her pimp, and turned over to Child Welfare Services for placement in foster care. That arrangement lasted only until the first night in her new ‘home’, she knew enough kids at the foster system's tender care to know she didn’t want to stay, so that night she took off, going back to familiar territory.
The next year of her life had been spent on the streets, hiding from the man she’d learnt had killed her mother and Marco in a fit of rage when he’d been unable to find her in the apartment. Jules was a sadistic man even worse than Marco, a rival pimp, who had wanted her for his stable. A war of sorts had been going on between the two men for years and when you added the drugs and booze they indulged in, it had lead to bloodshed and finally, on that night, death. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or terrified by what he had done.
She’d found a group of kids, about her age, living in a warehouse and soon found she was considered one of them. They lived by stealing and she became a distraction for the marks, using her looks to keep them occupied while one of the others would lift their wallets. That was when she first learned just how effective a weapon her body could be. The gang shared everything, including themselves, with the others in the small group and she found that she liked what she could get from them, but she never allowed herself to become what her mother had been, a whore for hire.
Her luck ran out one night in early May, a few days after she turned fifteen.
* * *
“Come on Faith, get your ass in the car.” Joey yelled as he connected the wires under the dash of the sleek black Mercedes. “Let’s jet.”
Jumping in the passenger seat, Faith let out a yell, the rush of boosting cars still giving her a high as she was pushed back against the leather seat.
“Floor it Jo!” she yelled in excitement. “Let’s see what this baby can do.”
She watched as the older guy peeled out, leaving a small cloud of smoke in the parking lot, a grin spread across her face. This was the life, she thought, living free, taking what they needed, no one telling them what to do .As the car crossed into Quincy, she turned and looked back, trying to see the night skyline, the last thing she heard was the sound of metal on metal.
Waking up was a bitch she decided later. It wasn’t the white sterile walls of the room she was in, it wasn’t even the headache she had that made her mad. No, what she didn’t like was the cold feel of metal on her wrist connecting her to the hospital bed and seeing the woman cop sitting in a chair beside her.
* * *
For a month she sat in the brick building, trapped in the concrete and metal jail that housed the youth offenders of the city until one day a woman had entered, looking at her intently before she turned to the guard and nodded. That was the day her life had taken the strangest turn to date, for the woman, introducing herself as Alison Carrington, in a British accent no less, told her she was now her guardian, and to please follow her, now.
What a rough start they had, Alison with her British calm, and Faith with her wild ways, she could remember how she had reacted when she had first met her. She had cussed at her, telling her to go to hell, that she didn’t need anyone taking care of her, she had had enough ‘care’ to last a lifetime already but Alison had all but dragged her outside to the waiting car.
Faith for her part had started to see dollar signs as soon as she saw the car. It was a stretch limo, complete with driver. Thinking at first that this bizarre woman was just another type of pimp, it had taken Alison over six hours to convince her that no, she was not after sex, she did not want a servant, and that yes, Faith was allowed to lock her door, no tricks.
Bostonian Musing P2
Feeling the car slow down, Faith looked up, jerked back from her reminiscences. Looking around to see what was going on, she was surprised to notice that they had already been on the road for about an hour. Rubbing her eyes to clear them, she sat up as Xander pulled into a truck stop, heading for the pumps.
“I’m going to top off the tank, you want to pick up some drinks and snacks?” he told her as he was opening his door.
“Anything special?” she asked him, climbing out and stretching, feeling her back realign itself. Casting a glance at him, she hid a smirk as he seemed to be trying to look away.
“Just a coffee, if you don’t mind,” came the reply as she started to saunter away. “Oh, and some twinkies too.”
“Sure thing boy-toy.” She shot over her shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later, having made a stop each at the less than savory restroom provided, the car gassed up, and the snacks safely stowed between them on the seat they were back out on the highway. Still feeling the effects of her late night jaunt and the need for small talk between them having been passed a long time ago, Faith climbed into the back seat, intending to catch a nap before they got to where ever it was they were heading.
Sprawled across the seat, she found she could watch him without being spotted and in that unguarded moment, she let herself think of just how important he was to her, more so than he dreamed. His actions after that night in the alley had surprised her, not because he had stopped her, but because he had not acted like he wanted anything in return.
She could not remember any other guy acting that way with her, and it baffled her sometimes. As she felt herself start to drift off, her mind wandered to the last person who had acted towards her in a way that the Southie could not understand.
* * *
“My name is Alison Carrington, Ms Welch. You are as of now my ward, from now until you reach the age of maturity in this country. Until your eighteenth birthday, you will be residing with me, and follow the rules set down for you.”
“I don’t do girls.” Faith shot back, sitting as far away as the interior of the car allowed.
“I beg your pardon?” the British woman said, the look of confusion almost priceless.
“That’s why you picked a girl, right? You want a new toy to play with? Well, I hate to break it to ya, but, I like stick.”
They had been driving for about forty-five minutes, the traffic slow at this time of day, and as of yet the two large pit-bull looking guys that were in the back with them had not said a word, but as she started mouthing off at the older woman Faith was almost certain she saw their lips twitch. Who ever these guys were, they were not as dumb as the woman.
“Stick, cock, dick, rod. What ever you call it, I prefer guys, so you can just let me out here.”
“I… I…. I do not” the British woman sputtered, her face turning beet red as she realized what she was implying..
“I don’t know who you are lady, but, I don’t whore out for anyone, so just let me out here and we’ll be five-by-five.”
* * *
What had followed that conversation was one of the strangest months of her life. A street kid from south Boston finding herself living in a two storey colonial in Charlestown, one of Boston’s most exclusive suburbs. She couldn’t get her head around the changes in her life. Sure, she still got hit, but this was different, she got hit cause Al was teaching her to fight, and the blows were not the hate filled ones she received from dear old ma.
When she’d first seen the large house she’d decided that, if nothing else, she would scout the place out to see what was worth lifting. After the heated argument they’d had, she’d moved into the second floor room provided for her, with the one alteration she’d demanded, the door had a sturdy lock on the inside so she could keep everyone else out unless she let them in. So far the Brit hadn’t tried anything more then to talk to her and Faith couldn’t figure what her angle was. If life had taught her anything it was everyone had an angle.
She still recalled the day she’d walked into the basement to see Fric and Frac, the two no neck guards Al used, cleaning a pile of swords and other weapons. She’d bolted from the room, intending to get the hell out of the looney bin, only to have Al stop her, dragging her into the library.
* * *
“What the fuck is going on here!” Faith demanded, twisting away from the older woman. “What kind of psychos are you people!?”
“Sit down, and I will try to explain,” Al told her, the limey’s attempt at a soothing tone setting Faiths nerves on edge. “Do you know why I chose you, out of all the children at the youth remand center?”
“The whosit?”
“The ‘home’ were I found you. It was not for your manners, or your vocabulary.”
“I knew there was something you wanted.” Her face contorted in rage she jabbed a furious finger at the woman. “Well fuck you, I’m not going to be a part of your sick cult! I started to believe you!” she was caught between anger and fear, her body telling her to run, her mind saying stay.
“Do you believe in vampires?”
"Ah bullshit!" Faith had heard enough, shrugging off the brit’s hand, she turned to leave. No way she was staying with a fucking loon, she might catch something herself. She’d heard shit about cults on the news, what they did to kids, brain-washing them to be slave. No way that was happening to her, she was too smart for that.
"Faith," Ally's voice stopped her in her tracks. "I assume you have the dreams of girls fighting demons?"
Faith felt a pain constrict her chest and twist her heart. She turned back to the Englishwoman. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" she bluffed.
"Oh really," the other woman raised an eyebrow. She looked far from convinced. “Was it a peasant girl? A pilgrim? Or maybe you dreamed of a woman fighting something in more recent times?”
“How.. who?” Faith managed to say, her legs buckling beneath her, she fell into a chair.
“You are special. You are part of a great destiny. One day you might even find that you are in fact The Slayer.” Al told her as she walked over to the shelves lining the walls, taking a large dusty book down.
Faith shook her head, her special? She was just the daughter of a whore, a street kid. “What the fuck is a Slayer?”
“Why don’t we start at the beginning.”
An hour later, Faith sat lost in thought, trying to digest what Al had told her. Vampires, demons, good and evil, and she was caught up in it. Her dreams had always been on the dark side, but once she’d hit puberty they’d gotten wicked strange. She saw young woman, girls, in all sorts of strange dress fighting, and dying, at the hands of creatures she thought she dreamed of cause of her monster movie obsession. (..Like Faith’s rationalization for her dreams..)
Standing, she pulled the waist band of her pants down, revealing the mark low on her right hip. Looking at the picture in front of her, she saw that what she had always thought was just another random scar matched the one in the book. The mark of The Slayer it said. A two inch long cross.
* * *
The next five months went by in a blur. Between training, and school, which Ally had demanded she attend, Faith was too busy to notice the passing of time. Stumbling down the stairs one morning she tripped over a suitcase left in her path. After she got up and kicked the bag, stubbing her toe as she did, she made her way towards the kitchen, needing food and drink to start her day. Pushing the door open, still grumbling under her breath about the bag, she stopped in her tracks, seeing the people in the room.
Sitting at the table, a woman who looked a lot like Ally sipped a cup of tea. Seeing her, the woman had quirked an eyebrow at her.
* * *
“I see what you mean Alison.” The woman’s voice had the same accent as her guardian. Sisters, no doubt about it now. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Who the hell are you?” Faith demanded bluntly.
“I am Janice Carrington, a pleasure to meet you Faith.”
“You’re her sister?” Faith asked, looking at the hand the woman was holding out like it would bite her.
“Faith, behave.” Ally scolded, her voice carrying a hint of mirth. “Janice is here to finalize some paperwork for me. She is also my cousin.”
“And your point is?” the brunette asked, grabbing a bowl and filling it. “I’m going to watch some TV.” With that she left the room.
She didn’t learn the real reason for the British invasion, as she called it, ‘til a week later, on Christmas Eve.
“Faith, would you come in here please.” She heard Ally call her as she headed for her room.
Faith groaned. “Damn it Ally, ‘The Simpsons’ is on!”
“Faith.”
Faith groaned, Ally had her ‘do as you’re bloody told’ tone. Muttering curses under her breath, she made her way through to the lounge. “What’s up?” she said, flopping into a chair, hanging her leg over the arm.
“I wanted to give this to you.” As she handed her a folder filled with paper, Faith could not help but notice the nervousness in her guardian’s voice. “I was not sure if you would agree, but, I wanted to make things a bit more formalized than they currently are.”
Looking at the woman pacing the room, something she only did when she wanted to talk about something personal, Faith opened the folder and scanned the contents. Her confusion grew as she read through it, trying to figure out if it was real or not.
“You… you want to adopt me?”
“Yes. I know you are an independent young woman, but I want to make sure you are provided should anything ever happened to me, and, well, you have grown on me.” The.Englishwoman’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “Rather like a fungus. If you agree, we will start the procedure right away.”
“Why would you want a street rat as a kid?”
“Because, my dear Faith, you can be so much more than that, and I do care for you.”
“No one has ever really wanted me before,” Faith whispered to herself, tears threatening to fall.
A pair of arms encircled her, giving a squeeze and she looked up into the face of the woman who asked nothing more of her than she do her best. “I do.” the Englishwoman replied. With a smile, she returned the embrace.
* * *
The next four months were the best of Faith’s life. She and Ally took a trip to Florida during her spring break, visiting some of the more unusual spots as well as a wicked trip to Disney before heading back to the almost arctic temperatures of a New England winter. In February they had filed a petition with the courts for adoption, but it would be several more months before it came through. In the mean time they continued to train and hide the weapons every time someone from Child Welfare or the courts came to see if it would be a good home for her.
* * *
It was mid June and the day had not yet turned muggy. Faith made her way down to the basement, ready for another round of ‘bruise the girl’ with Ally and the boys. She had woken that morning feeling energized, like she had eaten too much sugar or something and needed to burn off some of the extra. Seeing that she was the only one down there, she sat on the floor, starting her warm up stretches.
She still remembered the pain she had been in before she listened to what the older woman had told her about stretching, and now never started a training session without loosening up. As she finished , she rolled onto her stomach, placing her arms under her shoulders, and started doing push-ups. While not something she had to do, with all the weight training she already did, she still liked the feel of it, but today felt different.
Having already done fifty, she noticed she didn’t feel the burn that she should, nor did she feel tired at all. Putting it down to her ‘clean living’ she counted to one hundred before rolling onto her back and starting her sit-ups. When Ally finally showed up, Faith was starting to wonder just what had been in her cereal that morning, she still felt full of energy.
“So, what first teach?” she asked, bouncing to her feet, eager to start. One thing she never gave Ally a reason to criticize her for was her willingness to play with the weapons.
“You’re bloody cheerful today,” her Watcher and guardian commented with a smile. “Why don’t you pick?”
Bounding over to the racks holding the blunted training weapons, Faith grabbed two staffs, tossing one to the Brit. She couldn’t wait to get started, she had spent the last two weeks working on her skills without the others around and was eager to show that she could hold onto it and not knock herself in the head .
“I see you really are ambitious today. Any reason?” Ally asked her as she tossed her a face mask.
“Just a bit hyper today is all.” Faith grinned, donning the mask and dropping into a relaxed stance, the six-foot ratan staff held parallel to the floor in front of her.
The Watcher came in fast, sweeping at her ankles, but Faith bounded effortlessly over the oncoming staff. Seeing the surprise in Ally’s eyes, Faith grinned, damn she felt good today, before slamming the point of the staff into her teacher’s hamstring, sending her crashing face-first to the mat. “Oh,” she drawled. “Been practicing too.”
“Oh botheration,” Ally groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. “You have been practicing. But,” Faith groaned at the gleam in Ally’s eyes. Oh shit, it was pummel the girl time. “Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Forcing a confident grin, Faith nodded. “Bring it on.”
For a few seconds they circled one another then Ally lunged forward, leading with the point of the staff aimed at her face. Faith swayed away from the attack, instantly Ally changed from a thrust to a swing. Faith reacted by bending her knees, allowing the staff to rip the air just above her head in two. Before Ally had time to regain her defensive stance, Faiths struck with a two pronged attack. First she jabbed her guardian in the belly, then, as Ally doubled up, she drove the end of the staff into the top of her head.
Her mouth dropped open in shock when her guardian left her feet and flew backwards, into the wall some ten feet behind her. “Fuck!” rushing forward she started to unfasten her Watcher’s gear. “Ally,” she babbled, her heart pounding with fear, oh shit Ally was bound to hate her now. “It was an accident, honest. I didn’t mean-.”
“Faith.” Her mentor whispered, holding up her hand to stop her tirade. “Please go lift some weights for now.”
Faith felt her heart drop at the tone in the other woman’s voice as she made her way over to the weight benches, sitting on the reclined seat.. She just knew she had blown things, but she didn’t understand what had happened. The moves just seemed to flow out of her, like breathing, she didn’t even think about it. Standing, she moved to the back of the leg press checking to see the weight it was set for.
After adjusting it to her normal 170, she sat down, waiting as Ally made her way over, the expression on the other woman’s face unreadable. Counting to herself, Faith did 12 reps, pausing after the last to take a short break, as she was taught. Putting her feet back on the machine, she started once more, making her second set. As she prepared to start her third set, a hand on her shoulder stopped her and she looked up to see Ally looking at her, a mixture of awe and fear on her face.
“Into every generation, a girl is born, to fight the darkness, the chosen One. You…” Faith watched, confused as a tear ran down Ally’s cheek, “you are the Chosen One, Faith, the Vampire Slayer.”
“Did you hit your head or something Al?” Faith was not sure just what was going on, but if what Ally was saying was true then…”Me?” the last was a strangled gasp.
“You didn’t notice the extra weight on the second rep?
“No, It felt more like someone took the pin out, it was wicked easy. What is this, some kinda joke?”
“No joke. You are The Slayer.” Ally told her, pointing to the weights on the back of the bench. Taking a closer look, Faith saw the weights were almost double her normal amount.
“Damn! Wicked cool!” Faith jumped up, as just what she was hearing sunk in. No longer would she be the victim,, now she had the power, she was the top dog.
“I need to.. to call the council.” Ally told her, walking away. Faith watched her, trying to figure out why Ally seemed so down.
Bostonian Musings P3
It was the end of the rush hour as they pulled into Hotel 8’s parking lot after navigating their way through downtown L.A. As it was still a bit early to check in they locked the car and went into the small diner next door, ordered a late breakfast and chatted about their plans for the day. Xander told her he wanted to check out some of the local hot spots before night fell, while Faith just wanted to chill.
Working out a compromise, they went back to the hotel, getting adjoining rooms and paying for them four days in advance. Each room had separate exits to the inside hall and the small patio that separated the rooms from the asphalt pavement on the lot, allowing them two possible escape routes, as well as letting them bring Faith’s weapons bag in with out being spotted. Satisfied that they were not noticed, they headed out, spending a few hours learning the area as well as looking for possible threats.
“So, what are we looking for around here, besides empty buildings Xan? I thought we were going to have some fun on this trip.”
“Oh, there will be fun to be had, but it’s the surprises I don’t want to deal with.”
“Surprises are the spice of life. ‘Sides, with me here, it’s not like we can’t take them. This ain’t the hellmouth, you can relax a little.” Faith said, giving her companion a playful shove.
“The last time I relaxed, I let a vamp get into the group,” came the dark reply, her companion’s voice carrying a bit of anger even though he barely spoke loud enough for her Slayer hearing to catch it.
“Who? Fang?”
“Yes, and I’m not going to let that mistake get repeated. I’ll relax when I’m dead.”
As the day warmed, Xander removed the button down shirt he had been wearing, leaving him in a ribbed white wife beater, and Faith could not help but notice how it fit him.
“What?” Xander asked, blushing at her attention.
“Didn’t know you owned anything but those ugly shirts you wear.”
“I’ll have you know,” Xander retorted before turning to walk backwards in front of her, “these shirts are classics. They go with anything.”
“Watch out for…” Faith tried to warn her friend, but he tripped over the curb, falling on his ass.
“Sure, laugh it up.” The youth said from where he was sprawled, but her laughter was too contagious, and he soon joined her. After a few minutes, they both calmed down, and she reached out to help him up, pulling on his left arm.
Settling him on his feet once more, Faith eyes were drawn to his left shoulder, the edge of the scar peeking out from under the material, catching her gaze. A shudder ran through her as she recalled the night he had gotten it, the night he had stopped her from killing a man at risk to his own life. A few inches lower and she would not be looking at him now.
“Does it still hurt?” her voice lost all mirth.
“This? No, that’s nothing. Wounds heal, it’s the scars you can’t see that hurt the most.” Xander replied with a shake of the head, leading her the last few yards to their rooms.
“What scars?” she asked, sitting down on the small couch in his room.
“OK, see, yes, this hurt when it happened, but it healed, no fuss, no mess. Losing people, that’s what scars you.”
“Who did you lose?” she asked, intrigued.
“Jesse, he was my best friend, my bud, since kindergarten, along with Willow. One night, right after Buffy got to Sunndydale, he got turned. I staked him, I wasn’t even really trying, some kid knocked him into it, but it was my hand that held the stake.” as he talked, he sat on his bed, not looking at her, but the wall across from him. “Then, this year, I lost Willow, not to a vamp, she just forgot about me. I’m not sure what one hurts the most at times.”
Hearing the pain under his words, Faith swallowed the lump in her own throat. “I’m gonna get some sleep.” She told him, going to the door between the rooms. He didn’t reply with words, but she knew he thanked her anyway for the privacy. Leaving the door open a crack, she flopped onto her own bed, letting a few tears fall as she drifted to sleep.
* * *
She recalled when she first started having nightmares, and what had happened when she went to her mother seeking comfort as any six year old would, and the beatings she’d received. The worst had been when she interrupted her mother and Marco, she’d not been able to walk upright for three days after. That was when she learnt not to let others know about her nightmares.
After Marco had beaten and raped her she’d had nightmares about that day for almost two years, waking in a cold sweat, her body shaking and a blurry face leering at her as pain racked her lower body. It seemed that each time she started to outgrown a set of nightmares, a new set would pop up. She suspected Ally knew about these nightmares, but unlike the ones dealing with Slayer dreams, she never pressurized her about them, and they slowly faded into the background like the others before them.
That had all changed about a month and a half after she was first called when her world came crashing down on her once more. It started just after the forth of July celebration, in the area of Boston known as the combat zone, a place where even hardened criminals did not walk the streets at night without others from their gangs with them, a routine patrol for a cocky young slayer.
* * *
“Hey bitch.” Faith called, seeing female vamp snacking on a drunk. “Watcha doin with that loser? A skank like you can’t do any better?”
The vampire turned to face her, Faith realized she was way taller than her, maybe by six inches, with a willowy build apart from her impressively rounded chest that was emphasized by her half-buttoned red shirt. Despite being vamped out, she still had a sort of dangerous beauty made even more striking by her flowing flame-red hair.
“You wish to die Slayer? I have killed three of your kind before,” the vamp said, dropping her victim and wiping her chin, her accent sounding like the vacationers that flooded the city from Quebec every year. “Come then, let Rouge Morte show you fear.”
“Faith, must you always piss them off?” the familiar British accent asked from behind her.
“Ally, you need to loosen up a little. Find the fun.”
“I think the fun found us, that’s ‘Red Death’, a Master vamp in her own right, one of..”
“Yo, Ally, save the speech till after I kick her trashy ass. I mean, look at what’s she’s wearing, I’ve seen better in a hooker’s closet.” Faith cut her watcher off, referring to the see through shirt and hot pants the vamp was wearing,
With a growl, the red head lunged, going into game face as she tackled her. Knocked off balance, Faith and her opponent crashed into the alley’s hard wall. As they slid down the rough brick, Faith silently cursed her own choice of clothes, shorts and a tank top did not offer much in the way of protection. With a twist of her shoulders, Faith managed to roll off the wall as the red head grabbed her around the neck, forcing her head back.
“Oh, no you don’t bitch, the snack bar’s closed to you” Faith hissed as she strained to pry a hand loose, finally managing to yank two fingers back, hearing the vamp’s cry of pain as bones snapped. Kicking out, Faith gave herself some room, flipping to her feet as she heard a body slam into metal.
“I will feed you to my Master street trash!”
“See,” she sidestepped another lunge and drove a knee into the vampire’s mid-section. Grabbing hold of the doubled-up vampire’s hair, she flung her into the wall. Snarling angrily, the demon leapt back at her, catching her with a left hook to the jaw that snapped her head back. “That’s just rude!”
“I’ll feed on your heart!” the vampire snarled.
“And wear my entrails as a necklace,” Faith caught the vampire’s follow-up overhand right on her shoulder. “Heard it all before.” Seeing the demon had over-stretched herself, she reached up and snatched hold of the demon’s wrist, forcing it back until bones snapped. Grinning slightly at the vamp’s resulting scream, she shot a foot up, the toe of her boot smashing into her adversary’s throat, lifting her off her feet and sending her crashing into the wall opposite. “Ally! Stake!”
A half-second later and her Watcher had flung her stake to her. Catching it she hurried over to her target, only for the vampire to slam a heel into her groin, knocking her back. “SHIT!” she wheezed as she watched the vampire surge to her feet, her own legs wobbly from the attack.
“You’re mine Slayer,” the vampire gloated, her face contorted in a sneer.
The demon charged her, at the last second Faith found the strength to sidestep the attack. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the demon’s shoulder-length hair and threw her face first into the wall to the accompaniment of shattering bone. Faith came in with a stake to the back, but the demon spun away, narrowly avoiding her attack. “Shit!”
“You’re feisty my dear,” the vampire’s grin sent chills through Faith. “I might keep you as a present for my master.”
Faith forced a grin. There was something about the way the vamp mentioned her master that suggested she really didn’t want to meet her. “I wouldn’t be planning presents if I were you,” she shot back. “I’d be concentrating on living.”
Ignoring the pain in her groin, Faith moved to the vamp’s right, the moment it, as anticipated, started to the left she moved to block it, her stake coming down. The vampire screamed as the stake narrowly missed her heart, ripping into her left shoulder, sending blood splattering into the wall behind her. “You’ll beg me to kill you!”
The vampire grabbed at her chest, and twisted her left breast, the pain shooting through her soft, sensitive, flesh causing Faith to scream and her legs to buckle, sending her to her knees. “Oh yes,” she heard her adversary purr. “Breaking you is going to be such fun.”
“Never happen,” forcing aside her agony, she thrust her stake deep into her rival’s left thigh. The vampire let out a pained scream and kneed her in the face before falling onto her back. Pulling the stake out of the vamp’s leg, Faith quickly scooted up her rival’s body and thrust her stake home before allowing weariness to overcome her, lying on the ground for several seconds, Ally’s hand on her shoulder as her Watcher muttered comforting words in her ear.
* * *
Ally nursed her through the night, helping her sleep through the pain, slayer healing was awesome, but it still needed time to work, even if it was on nothing more then deep bruising. The next morning, almost noon really, she woke, feeling much better then she had. Walking down stairs, she found Ally sitting in the living room, waiting for her.
“How are you today?” the older woman asked, the concern evident in her voice.
“I feel… wired.” Faith answered, jumping over the back of the couch and sprawling on it. “That was wicked, I so kicked her ass!”
“Yes, you did. Your first Master vampire. However, you were also careless.”
“How? I’m alive and she’s dust.”
“You ignored what I was trying to tell you. For example, did you know she was a minion of an even older, stronger vamp?”
“So? What’s your point?”
“We don’t know why they are here, and now, once word gets out that you killed Red, he will come looking for us.”
“Well, let him look, we’ll just get him a matching urn for his dust.”
* * *
It was four days since she killed the red headed vamp, four days of Ally constantly watching her, trying to cram knowledge into her head when all she wanted to do was go out and kick ass, blow off steam, she thought Ally finally agreed to let her go just to get her to stop nagging. Her guard dog, as she thought of Ally for those few days, relented, saying she could go dancing on Friday and a quick patrol after, giving them both a few hours break from the other. As she walked back into the house, two hours later than she was meant to return, Faith found the house in shambles, furniture knocked over and papers tossed all over the rooms. Fear twisting her guts, she frantically searched the house. Finding nothing she turned her attention to the basement.
Her senses stretched as far as she could, she crept down the stairs, gripping a sword she had picked up in one hand, a stake in the other. She could smell the coppery tint of blood in the air, and as she reached the bottom step she flipped the switch for the lights. The sight before her caused her to gag, and bile rose in her throat. Leaning to the side she threw up, adding another odor to the one permeating the suddenly cramped space.
On the wall opposite the stairs hung the crucified bodies of Ally’s bodyguards, their throats slit, and a message written on the wall in the still wet fluid.
‘Come to the alley where you killed Rouge Morte, we have your Watcher.’
* * *
Her head was pounding as she pulled herself up from the darkness, trying to figure out where she was. The last thing she could recall was walking into the alley before her nerves seem to light on fire, and a hard blow driving her to her knees. The last thing she saw was a large vamp kicking her in the face and then nothing. Kakistos, she dragged the name from her memory, recalling the deformed hands and feet she had glimpsed.
Cold metal secured her hands, wrapped around her chest, and legs, preventing her from moving. The sticky feel of blood pulled at her face where it was drying, running from a cut that the vamp must have caused when he kicked her, and her wrists were slick with it, the chains digging into her flesh. Blinking, she raised her head and attempted to focus in on her surroundings.
“Good, you’re awake, and just in time.” The master vamp said as he strolled into her sight from behind the curtain in front of her, causing her vision to snap into focus. Looking up at the creature, Faith felt fear course through her as she tried again to pull at the chains holding her to the chair. “I would hate for you to miss the lesson.”
Faith wanted to scream as the curtain before her dropped, allowing her to see what was behind it, but her gag prevented it. Ally was hanging from chains in the ceiling, wearing only her panties and bra. Even from where she sat, she could see the goose bumps covering her Watcher’s skin, and the tarpaulin covered table beside her.
“Do you know the five basic torture groups little Slayer?” Kakistos’ voice drew her to him, and she cried out as he pulled the tarpaulin off, revealing what it held. “First, cold, as you might notice, your British friend here has been standing in a tub of ice for the past few hours, waiting for you to wake up.”
Faith looked at Ally’s face, seeing the other woman’s blank look, and tears started to fall from her eyes. How long had she suffered because of her? She couldn’t look away as two lesser vamps unlocked her Watcher’s arms, letting the older woman drop to the ground in a heap before roughly hauling her up, locking her into a chair another minion brought out.
“Blunt.” Her eyes bulged as Kakistos picked up a large rubber mallet, holding it in his claw-like grip. As he knelt by Ally, he looked back at her, giving her a grin that sent a shiver through her before raising the mallet high and bringing it down onto Ally’s foot. The sound of the bones breaking was drowned out by her Watcher’s agonized screams.
“Ah, Loud, do you like it?” the master vamp almost purred at her. “I find that one works best when I have two to play with. Let’s try Sharp next shall we?”
The knife he picked up was long, thin, and sharp looking to the Slayer’s eye, like something she had seen down on the Boston docks when the boats came back in from the ocean - a fillet knife. The vampire ran his claw over the edge, walking to where she sat, too terrified to even try to break free squirming as she felt the cold steel being drawn across her throat, leaving a slight burning sensation in its wake.
“So many things to use this for little Slayer. Shall I show you?”
He moved away and Faith released the breath she had been holding, her nostrils flaring as they tried to draw in much needed air, only to freeze once more as the monster before her grabbed Ally’s leg, holding it still. He placed the blade against the flesh, and she watched as a line of blood welled up at the contact before he pulled it slowly downward, peeling a layer of flesh away. Ally’s cries once more echoed in the warehouse, bouncing off the metal walls, cutting Faith’s soul as the blade cut her Watcher’s flesh.
“Only one more to go in this lesson,” Kakistos said, his voice dripping with menace as he walked back to her. “You better not look away either, if you do, I will let my boys have some fun with the both of you.”
Looking at the six minions arranged around the room, she could smell their arousal, the blood and pain acting as an aphrodisiac to the living dead. A whimpering sound escaped from her throat, not even the gag keeping that fear in check. Not wanting to watch, but not daring to look away, she watched as he picked up the hose from a large bottle next to the table, and using a candle lighter, ignited the welder’s torch.
“Hot. This one, combined with sharp, allows me to make as many cuts as I need without the person bleeding to death,” he told her, the scent of burning flesh filled the room. Ally’s cry of pain cut off as she passed out.
“Now see, I have barely started, and she does this. No matter, we can wake her,” she saw him motion to his minions, and watched as they removed Ally from the chair, taking it away, and bringing in a metal table, chaining Ally’s limp body to it face down.
* * *
Faith remembered every moment of the next 24 hours, each cut, each burn, each blow. When he broke Ally’s arms and legs, Faith had strained for all she was worth, trying to reach the one person who had treated her like something besides an object to be beaten or fucked, until Ally caught her with a pain filled gaze, stilling her with a look. She saw the death in that gaze staring back at her, and something inside broke a little more, the walls around her emotions crumbling away, and the tears ran freely until she had no more to give.
The blows that struck her were nothing, she was numb, drained, nothing mattered to her anymore. Fear, anger, hatred, dread, love, they meant nothing to the person she had once been as she watched the butchery that was brought down on the other woman, her mind shutting down on her, not letting her feel what she saw.
In her sleep, Faith thrashed on the bed, her whimpers too soft for anyone else to hear, but she did, in her sleep, and they just willed the nightmare on to its finish.
* * *
A torrent of icy water struck her in the face, bringing the world back into stark reality once more. She could feel the liquid cooling her overly warm flesh, the past hours having left her feeling beyond sick. A combination of sight, sound, smell and even at one point, taste assaulted her mind. The screams, and the soft sound of flesh being beaten and cut, like a wet tearing, had her wanting to cover her ears while she was made to watch what they did. Every time she had tried to turn away it was made worse for Ally, if that was even possible.
When they had burned the once elegant hands of the Watcher, the mixture of burnt flesh and boiling blood had made her gag, and the sick twisted vamp had found it amusing, deciding that he wanted to see what she would do when she was forced to taste charred flesh. She had lost it at that point, fighting so hard to pull her mouth away that she had almost broken free. The thing that had made her lose all hope in the end was when Ally finally lost all body control, and the smell of bodily waste wafted across the short distance between them.
“See this little Slayer? This is what I will do to you soon.” Kakistos’ voice broke through her daze, and panic set in as she watched the vamp, lift Ally’s broken, blood body. “I want you to know why you will not die easy. You killed my childe, my delicious, vile childe. Do you know the bond that existed between us? For 500 years she served me, creating glorious tribute to me on mortal flesh. You took her from me, now I will take this worthless thing from you.”
Motioning four of his minions forward, two of whom had been allowed to grope her earlier as the Master Vampire had watched and encouraged when they had not been able to wake Ally, walked forward, each holding thick ropes in their hands. Kakistos walked up to her, punching her in the face with a blow that dazed her as she felt the chains fall away, only to be replaced by the coarse feel of the rope moments later.
Dragged from her seat, her arms pulled painfully out to the side, she could feel nothing but the overwhelming sting of blood returning to her extremities, like a thousand needles hitting her all at once, and her legs refused to support her. This didn’t stop them as they dragged her forward, the other two roughly dragging her to her feet, letting her look down on the twisted, bloody, broken thing that had once been a person, the only person who’d ever loved her.
The removal of her gag hours earlier kept her from choking on the little bile her body was still able to bring up, splattering on the ground. She could do nothing as Kakistos easily lifted Ally by the neck, dragging her behind him as he walked to the wall closest. The two vamps who had been holding her shoulders dropped her, going to assist their master, holding Ally upside down against the wall.
“This is what I like the best Slayer. The point where they are still alive, the blood tastes so much sweeter this way,” as the master vampire talked she watched him pick up a hammer and a large hook of some kind, placing it over one ruined ankle before driving it into the wall. He did this to each limb and one large one around the waist before turning back to her.
“Don’t blink, I don’t want you to miss the best part,” he all but purred at her.
As one of the others placed a large bucket beneath Ally’s head, Faith locked eyes with her, seeing for one final moment the love that even the pain could not kill before they widened in shock. Looking up, Faith saw the knife he had used earlier sticking from the Watcher’s stomach, the blood running down her chest, and over her head to drip in a steady stream into the bucket.
“It’s your turn now slayer,” the demon taunted her.
A blinding rage took hold, breaking her from her daze. With an animalistic growl, she yanked on the rope fetters, pulling the two vamps holding her arms off their feet and lunging forward, her hand grasping for the bloody hilt of the knife, pulling it free in one smooth motion as she lunged at Kakistos.
She felt the tremor as it struck, and heard it cut through the tough skin before the animal inside her took over. How she got away she was never sure, but once free she ran, guilt washing over her as she left Ally behind.
* * *
Faith jerked awake, rolling off the bed and running to the bathroom, just making it to the toilet before her stomach rebelled against her. After a few moments of throwing up, she sank to the cool tiled floor, resting her head against the porcelain tub beside her. It had been a few weeks since her last dream about Ally, but each time it felt the same, she had failed once already, the loss of the woman who had cared enough to try and adopt her, who’d tried to give her a somewhat normal life.
The two month trip from Boston to Sunnydale, the place she hoped to find help, and maybe acceptance, had been hell. Filled with days of running and hiding and nights of fighting for her life against the creatures that stalked the night, and her, had left little time for her to dwell on that point, but after meeting B and killing the thing that haunted her even now, she still remembered.
She too knew loss. She just hoped she didn’t fail the man in the other room, the one who had befriended her even when his own friends had turned their backs on him.
Fin