Author: Sarah
E-mail: katy@hawkins41.freeserve.co.uk
Disclaimer: Mr Gray Hair is mine. Faith's not.
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I couldn't get the ending good at all. Argh. I hate it when the words don't fit together right.
Summary: Faith visits the prison psychiatrist.
Feedback: Yes please. katy@hawkins41.freeserve.co.uk Come on, all you have to do is click on my email and write "It was good" or "It was bad". I'm not even picky about Grammar or spelin. Please?
Distribution: If you really want it.
Dedication: Anyone who feels like being dedicated to, really!
He leans back in his chair, his fingers entwined, and gives me that steely I'm-a-psychiatrist-so-tell-me-everything look. It's weird to be sat here opposite someone from the outside world without having to look through glass or speak into the hard black shell of a telephone. There's still a police guard by the door of course. Armed. It almost makes me laugh, because they don't realise that if I really wanted to hurt either of them, it would take more than a can of pepper spray and a nightstick to stop me. I'm the Slayer. But that doesn't mean anything in here.
"Faith," he says, saying my name so it sounds like the answer to a question. Maybe I am a question. I can almost hear this guy saying it now, in his stuffy voice. Only inside my head he sounds like Giles. That's weird. 'Faith, now, she is a question,' the psychiatrist in my head says. And I think I am. One with no answer. This psychiatry thing is easy. I could do it myself. "What do *you* think made you kill?"
It was an accident, I think. But why waste a perfectly good opportunity to send the maniac-o-meter in this guy's head into overdrive? "Bloodlust, I guess," I say innocently. "I like killing things. It feels nice when they go splat."
"Splat," he says thoughtfully. "Did Finch go splat, Faith?"
"No," I say, and pout. "He went squish. But it's all good."
"It's all good," he repeats, and this thing he has of repeating the last thing I say every time is really beginning to bug me. And bugging a Slayer, that's not good. Not for him anyway. But I remember I have to restrain my temper, because if I don't, how am I ever going to get out? "Do you often think of killing, Faith?"
"Oh, sure," I say. Which strictly isn't a lie, because I feel the urge to kill every day. Being behind bars is like fun. Only boring. "All the time. In fact, I'm thinkin' about killing you right now." The guard starts out of the corner. "I said I'm thinkin' about it, Piggy. Like I'd actually try anything while you've got that... fearsome nightstick on ya." I wink at him before turning back to Mr Gray Hair.
"Indeed," Mr Gray Hair (his new name, I decide) says thoughtfully, scribbling something down on his pad. I guess he gets Brownie points for not being fazed by that comment. "And what method would you use to kill me?"
Now this is my kind of talk. I shoulda done this weeks back. "A wooden stake," I reply. "Hammered through the heart."
He laughs. "Faith, I'm not a vampire."
"Neither was Finch," I mutter. He doesn't get it but of course, he was joking about not being a vampire because he doesn't realise that there are such things out there. He doesn't know that in Sunnydale, CA, there's a blonde girl named Buffy who looks like a college student but kills vampires. He doesn't know that the girl in front of him is one of two chosen to kill demons any way they can. If he knew that, he wouldn't be laughing. He probably wouldn't be sitting so close either.
"No," he intones calmly. "Finch was a normal man with a family. Do you ever wonder about them, Faith?"
"No," I say honestly. "I don't care about them." Well, why should I? I didn't kill them. So what if Daddy's not around any more? It's not like they're the only kids in a single parent family. At least they're part of a family. They should just sit back and be thankful that Mommy's still around.
"Why not?"
"Because," I growl, and I think that kind of warns him to back off. He nods and turns back to his notes.
"How about your family, Faith? Friends? Do they visit regularly?"
I smile menacingly at him. "Check the box marked no to all the above."
"I see. Faith, tell me. What do you plan to do when you get out of here?"
Well, let me see. I'm thinking I'm gonna head down to this little town in Cali and pick off a couple of students there. Name of Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris. And then, once I've done that, maybe I'll kill this old guy called Giles, and an army guy, name of Riley. Then I'll find anyone else acquainted with our pretty blonde friend and finish them off, before going after her. But don't worry about her, we're pretty well matched. I'm a little out of practice, so it's possible she'll kill me. But what the hell, huh? At least it'll be over then. And at least I can say I tried. "Drift," I answer simply.
He nods, and lays his pen and pad to one side. "You strike me as a very angry young woman, Faith," he says quietly. "I'd like to see you again, if I may. Exorcise some of those demons for you, what do you say?"
I stare at him for a second. He wants to talk to me again. Maybe this is the olive branch I've been waiting for, the rope that's being thrown that can bring me back from the edge. Maybe I can stop being an angry, murderous bitch and start again. Who knows, maybe I can even get over wanting Buffy dead, in time. Maybe all I need is a little time and I could change.
I snort derisively at that. "Maybe all I need is a little time and I could become boring," I say, which must seem cryptic to him, as he gives me an odd look. I stand up. "You can take your second meeting, set fire to it, and shove it up your ass." I smile sweetly at him and stroll over to the door. "Take me back to base, Jeeves. There's a piece of drying paint I want to watch."
Change? Me?
Yeah right.
The End
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