Break Like Me
Faith breathes in and out. Her chest rises and falls. She is not alive, not even nearly alive. Numb, cold, hollow. Yeah, that's what she is. What the fuck does it matter, anyway?
It's not like anyone is going out of their way to see how she's really dealing with things, with everything. With being out of prison. With seeing Buffy again after everything that went down. Yeah, no one cares. No one even thought to ask.
But it's okay, you know, because she can deal with that. She really can.
It's not like it's a big change from how things were before. The only difference is she's different, she can control her rage. Doesn't mean she doesn't still feel it.
Yeah, she feels it quite often. Rage burns like desire, and she's never really been good at drawing the line between the two. She's not entirely sure there is a line between the two.
Kennedy is what she would have been had she been spoiled and rich and grown up with a vacation house in the Hamptons. Yeah, Faith would be just fucking like her. This is why she hates her. This is why she wants to beat the shit out of her. This is also why she wants to make her scream and writhe like a wannabe porn star.
She thinks she's hot with her tongue ring, she thinks she's rebellious with her attitude. You're nothing, Faith wants to tell her, you're nothing. If you think you're hot shit you've got another thing coming, sweetheart.
And she imagines Kennedy getting pissed off at her, bitching at her -- oh, they always do. Kennedy would pout and flip her hair like all good little spoiled girls do, and maybe cross her arms, and get into that defensive pose Buffy loves so much. Closing herself off, yeah, they always do that.
Faith does it too, she knows. That doesn't make it any less annoying when someone else does it.
And this is why she pins Kennedy against the wall, holds Kennedy's hands over her head, and she waits. She waits for her to say something, anything. Waits for Kennedy to let her know that she wants it. Kennedy wriggles slightly and does she really think she can get out of this hold? You're not a Slayer yet, Faith wants to tell her, to mock her.
"What the hell are you doing?" Kennedy asks, her eyes wide. Oh, this isn't what she bargained for, is it? Oh, no Kennedy never expected this. Even though she wanted it.
Faith knew this. Kennedy, she was just like Faith, just like her. Faith knew what made that little brain of hers tick, oh Faith knew it all.
A slap across the face, hard, and Faith remembers this. She remembers it like she remembers being three and Uncle Peter coming into her room at night, she remembers it despite her efforts to just forget. And she remembers it like she remembers the feel of the knife sinking into her gut, and the feel of Oh, she remembers everything.
Kennedy swallows hard and tries to pretend she doesn't want to cry. Oh, she wants to cry. They always do.
Faith breathes. In and out, and her chest rises and falls, but she's not really alive. No, she died long ago, in a dirty house in Boston, and she can control her rage now.
She can control it.
Faith sneers. "You won't survive as a slayer."
"I'll be a better slayer than you were," Kennedy responds and Faith expected that. Oh, they always think they're better than her. They always do. What they don't realize is you can't truly be better than yourself, that just doesn't work. What they don't realize is Faith, yeah Faith is just like them.
Kennedy isn't willing to break, Faith realizes. Why won't you break? Break like me, you know you want to. Be just like me.
"Fuck you," Faith says finally, letting Kennedy go. But Kennedy doesn't move. Oh, now this is a surprise.
"Isn't that what this was about? Fucking?" Kennedy raises an eyebrow at Faith. "Call me what you want, Faith. I don't care. But don't pretend you know me. Don't pretend I'm some spoiled little rich girl you can intimidate. I might not be a slayer, but you will not intimidate me. You got that?"
And, yeah, she's just like her. Just like her. And Faith wants to beat her until she's bloody and she can't stand up straight and she wants to fuck her until her eyes roll back in her head, but Faith won't. No, Faith won't. Faith can control her rage now. She can control it.
Faith walks away.
And she wonders why no one bothered to ask how she was dealing.