Disclaimers: Joss and his Mutants own them,
not me. No harm intended.
Comments: Love eh? Never easy. Steff? Please
make Cordy and Faith happy in your fic!
Date Stamp: Miss K, aka Kitty wrote this 06.12.01
Title: It's a line from 'I'm Taking Europe With
Me' by Veruca Salt. Louise 'Will You Marry Me?' Post owns it, not me.
No harm intended, not one single iota.
Faith's POV
Slayers Do Vegas LV - Open My Eyes, How'd I Get Here?
For fucks sake!
My luck, picking up a total fruit loop.
Didn't want to have to prove my muscle, by
kicking them out.
Not feeling like complete shit, and especially
after she punched my lights out.
Christ, big hitter for a little thing.
Diary?
What a crock!
I don't keep a pansy assed diary.
It's got my name on the front though.
Faith Knight, that's me.
Why'd she have a diary with my name on it?
FRUIT FUCKIN' LOOP!
I lie back down on the bed and pick it
up, flicking through the pages.
Hey, this is my writing!
I don't have a diary... I don't have one!
She faked my writing?
What a nutcase!
Ok, I need to lay off the one night stands
for a while, or not get so smashed and pick a bit better.
So, I'm in Las Vegas.
How'd I get here?
Bitch must've drugged me.
I should've kicked both their asses!
Let's get back to Boston, Faith.
At least the mad people there, look
mad.
I push myself up, swing my legs off the bed
and walk round to the closet, taking my clothes out.
These aren't my clothes.
I don't own pants like these.
I don't... these aren't mine.
She switched my clothes?
Why would...?
I look down at my hands, turning them over.
How'd I get in Vegas?
I push my hair back, off my face.
My hair's longer.
Why is my hair longer?
What's going on?
These aren't my clothes, where are my clothes?
Stay calm, just chill out.
Slow it down, Faith, slow it down.
I can't, these aren't my clothes, why's my
hair longer?
I don't remember getting to Vegas, I would've
remembered getting here!
I walk round to the front of the bed and pick
up my chart.
Faith Knight, admitted for blood loss
and severe bruising to face and body.
Faith Knight re-admitted for memory
loss.
I don't have any bruises.
I pull my gown down, past my shoulders and
see faint blue bruises all over me.
But, I don't remember...
I haven't done anything to get brusies.
I push the front page of the chart back.
Next of Kin: Buffy Summers.
Buffy Summers.
I don't know...
Buffy Summers?
Buffy.
Something flicks past, in my head; too fast
for me to catch it.
Buffy Summers?
Buffy likes...
I shake my head, clearing the fog out of it.
You fucked Buffy Summers, that's all!
Get your clothes, Faith.
Get the fuck out of here and back to Boston!
I feel the chart fall out of my hand.
Then I look down and I'm dressed.
How'd I...?
I wasn't dressed a second ago... how'd... what's
happening?
These aren't my clothes!
Heads pounding, hurting.
I squeeze my eyes closed.
Breathe, breathe, calm it.
You need to get the fuck out of here, NOW!
I grab the money, off the side table, push
the door open and go to leave.
WAIT, my diary!
I run back and stop as my hand touches it.
But, I don't own a diary.
Leave it!
I walk back out into the corridor.
Keep calm, act normal, or they'll haul your
ass back.
Walk.
Slowly.
Thank fuck; the exit, sunlight!
My body starts to relax as I get out the doors,
and into the sunshine.
I need a smoke!
As I reach up, into my jacket pocket, I
feel something in my hand.
I look down and I'm holding the diary.
A shiver creeps up my body.
I didn't pick it up, I left it in the room!
Why is it in my hand?
I turn, looking round at everything.
What's happening to me?!