Hold the Line
Jul. 1st, 2007 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Faith/?
Rating: R
A/N: I have the next chapter of "And Roads Covered With Blood" written, but I want to wait until after my vacation to post it. It needs a thorough editing which is something I can't do when I'm running as much as I am now. Also have my "Three Little Words" challenge entry written, but again, it needs a deep down editorial scrub. So instead I'll hand you this sop. Just a bit of AU/AR inspired by the last little bit of BtVS S7 ep. "Chosen". Feel free to slam this one...I'm not entirely happy with it.
Summary: Faith writes a farewell letter before the big battle.
Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold the...Jesus! What the fuck does that mean? Come on, B, gimme something to work with here.
She's wheezing, face pulled all tight. Princess Pure is taking the last bus outta Sunnydale and damned if I don't wish I was on it with her. Nobody does a death scene like Buffy, though. With all that practice, she's got it down cold.
Chosen and that never meant more than it does now. In the beginning I was jazzed with it all. Little me, product of the finest broken home no money can buy and I was Chosen. Took too long to figure out it wasn't about me, you know?
Come game day, I suit up and follow B down. Girl has her slay on and I'm just the back-up. Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold hold hold...
I hated her. She had it all. Perfect Mommy, tight knit band of do-good chums, a Watcher with only half a stick up his ass and a pretty vamp boy on the side. I hated her. It was supposed to be mine. But when life hands you lemons, you smash'em into bloody unrecognizable chunks, right? Shit, that's my claim to fame. I figure this new Council will eventually get around to making my trophy for Most Screwed Up Slayer.
She handed me that scythe. It still didn't fit in my hand. Don't get me wrong, I wielded that thing like a champ. But it wasn't mine. Chosen but still second string. I took it but I wanted to give it back. Give it back and beg her to get up and lead because I can't, because I'm not her, not The One.
Except I am. The One Girl In All The World. For a few more minutes anyways. Hold the line, hold the line. That damn sentence echoes in my ears like my prison sentence never did. I hear it all the time now, and all I want to do is cover my ears and scream.
B died in that damn pit. Her and Spike and a couple others whose names I don't even think I learned. She's dead and I'm the Slayer. Yeah, there's a buncha baby Slayers but they weren't Chosen. Willow pumped'em full of power and they look like Slayers and hit like Slayers, but B and I? We were Chosen, with a capital C.
Still trying to figure out what that means. I can't be Buffy. Being a Slayer was her mission, but it wasn't one she wanted. She had a cheerleading outfit in her closet. Bet you didn't know that...or maybe you did. But, she kept it. Memories of a life never lived, G says. He also says I shouldn't be doing this, heading out to rescue Angel.
I gotta, though. What he did for me, what he meant to Buffy...it's all just...I don't know. I ain't exactly known for being the brains of the operation. I know that I was Chosen, that Angel is a Champion, and that somehow those have to meet up.
I'm sorry. If I die, I want you to know I'm sorry. Buffy said that being a Slayer meant always being alone, no matter who stood next to you. She's right and I know you know it. This'll probably piss you off, but we're not close. We touch and I feel you, and we're not close. So, for what's it worth, I'm sorry.
Gotta go now. Red's calling out the countdown to the latest Apocalypse and I hear Patches making his usual pre-end of the world jokes, so it's time. She's counting on me to hold the line. I heard she went to heaven last time, so she's probably on a cloud somewhere watching me right now. Maybe there'll be a spot next to her for me and maybe not. Either way, I want her to know I held the line.
Rating: R
A/N: I have the next chapter of "And Roads Covered With Blood" written, but I want to wait until after my vacation to post it. It needs a thorough editing which is something I can't do when I'm running as much as I am now. Also have my "Three Little Words" challenge entry written, but again, it needs a deep down editorial scrub. So instead I'll hand you this sop. Just a bit of AU/AR inspired by the last little bit of BtVS S7 ep. "Chosen". Feel free to slam this one...I'm not entirely happy with it.
Summary: Faith writes a farewell letter before the big battle.
Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold the...Jesus! What the fuck does that mean? Come on, B, gimme something to work with here.
She's wheezing, face pulled all tight. Princess Pure is taking the last bus outta Sunnydale and damned if I don't wish I was on it with her. Nobody does a death scene like Buffy, though. With all that practice, she's got it down cold.
Chosen and that never meant more than it does now. In the beginning I was jazzed with it all. Little me, product of the finest broken home no money can buy and I was Chosen. Took too long to figure out it wasn't about me, you know?
Come game day, I suit up and follow B down. Girl has her slay on and I'm just the back-up. Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold hold hold...
I hated her. She had it all. Perfect Mommy, tight knit band of do-good chums, a Watcher with only half a stick up his ass and a pretty vamp boy on the side. I hated her. It was supposed to be mine. But when life hands you lemons, you smash'em into bloody unrecognizable chunks, right? Shit, that's my claim to fame. I figure this new Council will eventually get around to making my trophy for Most Screwed Up Slayer.
She handed me that scythe. It still didn't fit in my hand. Don't get me wrong, I wielded that thing like a champ. But it wasn't mine. Chosen but still second string. I took it but I wanted to give it back. Give it back and beg her to get up and lead because I can't, because I'm not her, not The One.
Except I am. The One Girl In All The World. For a few more minutes anyways. Hold the line, hold the line. That damn sentence echoes in my ears like my prison sentence never did. I hear it all the time now, and all I want to do is cover my ears and scream.
B died in that damn pit. Her and Spike and a couple others whose names I don't even think I learned. She's dead and I'm the Slayer. Yeah, there's a buncha baby Slayers but they weren't Chosen. Willow pumped'em full of power and they look like Slayers and hit like Slayers, but B and I? We were Chosen, with a capital C.
Still trying to figure out what that means. I can't be Buffy. Being a Slayer was her mission, but it wasn't one she wanted. She had a cheerleading outfit in her closet. Bet you didn't know that...or maybe you did. But, she kept it. Memories of a life never lived, G says. He also says I shouldn't be doing this, heading out to rescue Angel.
I gotta, though. What he did for me, what he meant to Buffy...it's all just...I don't know. I ain't exactly known for being the brains of the operation. I know that I was Chosen, that Angel is a Champion, and that somehow those have to meet up.
I'm sorry. If I die, I want you to know I'm sorry. Buffy said that being a Slayer meant always being alone, no matter who stood next to you. She's right and I know you know it. This'll probably piss you off, but we're not close. We touch and I feel you, and we're not close. So, for what's it worth, I'm sorry.
Gotta go now. Red's calling out the countdown to the latest Apocalypse and I hear Patches making his usual pre-end of the world jokes, so it's time. She's counting on me to hold the line. I heard she went to heaven last time, so she's probably on a cloud somewhere watching me right now. Maybe there'll be a spot next to her for me and maybe not. Either way, I want her to know I held the line.