Disclaimers: See Part 1.
Faith's Journal
June 2000
So when did this happen to me?
When did I change from the slayer in complete
control over emotions, thoughts and motor functions into this crazy, burning,
babbling idiot sat in this sleazepit writing words that don’t even sound like
me?
How did I let her in my heart? Shit, I never
even realised it had a key, let alone that it was in easy reach of her hands.
I never saw her coming, and that’s the weird part. I mean I’m no fool when
it comes to the L word. Maybe the Scooby’s think I’m incapable, maybe even
she thinks that, and I sure as hell know Army Boy thinks all I’m good for
is a vertical slaying and a horizontal laying. But I’ve been there. I know
the signs to dodge and drive around. There’s no actual road map, I know that,
but all the same there’s some familiar landmarks to watch out for. Breathlessness
for one thing just catching a glimpse of her smile. Losing the ability to
say anything more intelligent than “five by five” whenever she asks me how
I am. Laying awake night after night thinking about when I’ll next see her.
These I should have seen as the warning signs that they are. Hell they practically
have a big flashing light on top of them and if you strain hard enough…yep..there’s
definitely a siren screeching “Stop! Trouble ahead!!!!”
But no! Instead it’s WHAM! There it was one
morning when I woke up. Like FederalExpress delivered it over night, all neatly
boxed up with a bright red ribbon and glittery gold writing on the outside.
“To Faith with love from the demon of the heart, priest of all things fucked
up, keeper of there’s no way out of this one.”
And I tried not to open it man. I’ve really
tried. In fact some days didn’t even notice there was this massive package
hanging around my neck, weighing me down yet making me feel light headed at
the same time. A yin and yang kinda deal, balancing themselves out so one
moment I’m all woo-hoo, suns out, Giles got me some new boxing gloves for
training, and I got to spend five minutes of non-slayer time with B when she
didn’t mention Army Boy once. Then the next its like this fucking weight is
pressing me down, heavier than all the shitheads that have wailed me rolled
into one, and I’m off my game, miss some easy stakes and have to explain that
to Giles, and its all I can do not to knock that smug look off of Army Boys
cardboard face every time B walks in and give him a “hello big boy” kiss on
the mouth. God its like my skin grows a life of its own and wants off my body,
to pound him into the ground just for being that close to B. I have to admit
it now, there’s been more of the weightier moments than the light, more of
the yang…or would it be the yin??? Oh who gives a fuck right? Same difference.
Its been shitty not opening up that box, so I went ahead and opened it, only
I had to do it in my own fucked up why didn’t I?
Guess who showed up for a visit a few days
ago? An old buddy of mine decided to swing by Sunnydale, didn’t say where
she was going to but thought our quaint little doorway to hell seemed a good
enough spot to park up her leathers, kick off her boots and put on the darkest,
reddest lipstick she could find. Hadn’t seen her in a long time, she can be
kinda fun, so I invited her to stay awhile. Wasn’t until she’d been around
a few days did I realise why I had avoided her for so long. She’s a bitch,
not one of little Dawnie’s bee-atchs either, but a cold hearted, foolish,
selfish grown-up variety of bitch. What’s her name?
Faith.