TITLE: Lost Thoughts
AUTHOR: Fernando
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine they belong to Joss and co (*sigh*) so 
don't sue! 
SUMMARY: Um...just some thoughts from Faith during Consequences
RATING: PG for language--mild violence
SPOILERS: Season 3--"Consequences" and "Bad Girls"
DISTRIBUTION: If you'd like it, hey it's yours just let me know first! 
:-)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Faith fic, and the first fic I write 
in 
first person. So if it sucks, hey sorry. Feedback please, I live for 
feedback, lol. 
 
 
 
 "Lost Thoughts"
 "Consequences-Season Three"
 By: Fernando Rangel
 
 
 
 "Its just, look at you Faith. No less than 24 hours ago, you 
killed a 
man and now its zipity-doo-dah. That's not your real face and I know 
it. 
Look I know what you're feeling cause I'm feeling it too." I close my 
eyes 
as I stand on the freighter waiting for it to set sail. Buffy hadn't a 
clue 
about how I felt. I close my eyes her words ringing in my ear like the 
icy 
wind that sent chills down my spine. "Dirty. Like something sick 
creeped 
inside and you can't get it out. And you keep hoping that it was just 
some 
nightmare but it wasn't..."
 
 God did she have to make such a big deal; do the whole drama 
queen 
bit? It wasn't a stage show on Broadway; I killed a guy. "You gotta 
keep 
your head here B, it's all goin' ta blow over in a few days." 
 
 "And if it doesn't?" She looked at me and for a second I saw 
concern 
for me, but then I realized she was worried about her own ass. "And if 
it 
doesn't they got a freighter leaving the dock at least twice a day, it 
ain't 
fancy but it gets ya gone." She went at it again in panic, "And that's 
it? 
You just live with it. You see a dead guy in your head every day for 
the 
rest of your life?" She got on my nerves, why didn't she get it. 
"Buffy, 
I'm not going to see anything. I missed the mark last night and I'm 
sorry 
about the guy, I really am, but it happens. Anyways, how many people 
do you 
think we've saved by now? Thousands? And haven't you stopped the 
world form 
ending? Because in my book that puts you and me in the plus column." 
Her 
winy voice went on, "We help people, it doesn't mean we can do whatever 
we 
want!" I shrugged my shoulders and honestly asked, "Why not? The guy 
I 
offed was no Gandhi, I mean we just saw he was mixed up in dirty 
dealings." 
Then she told me in her fucking 'better than thou' tone, "Maybe, but 
what if 
he was coming to us for help." 
 
 "What if he was? You're still not seeing the big picture here 
B. 
Something made us different, we're warriors, we're built to kill." I 
replied 
hoping that she gets it; we're like sisters-she should get this. It's 
not 
about anybody else but us. And I'm wrong. "To kill demons! But it 
does not 
mean we get to pass judgment on people like we're better than everyone 
else."
 
 Frustrated I felt like tugging at my hair and snapped, "We are 
better!" I calmed down and watched as she stared at me with disbelief; 
it 
was true and she had to face it. "That's right. Better. People need 
us to 
survive. In the balance, nobody's gonna cry over some random bystander 
who 
got caught in the crossfire." She looked at me with her green eyes, 
pain 
filled, hurt and it tears me up even now, "I am." I closed my eyes and 
headed back to the little hotel I called home, "Well that's your loss." 
I 
turned and walked away. Later Xander came to see me and all hell broke 
loose. I got whacked in the head with a baseball bat and then Wes 
tries to 
take me England, fucking prick. And here I am, at the docks waiting 
for the 
ship to take off. The sooner I get out of here the better. 
 
 I wait on the deck staring out into the black waters, and the 
starless 
night wondering about what could have been-strange, it's the first time 
I 
actually think about what my life would be like if I weren't the 
Slayer-prolly some druggie like half the kids in my neighborhood. I 
crane my 
neck because I hear footsteps. They're too dainty to be the captain's 
footsteps, or the cops. I look over the rail and I see her blond head. 
"You 
never give up." She whips around and relaxes. "Not on my friends. 
No."
 
 I start walking down, "Ya cause we're such solid buds right." I 
set 
my bag down and listen to her, "We could be. It's not too late." I 
roll my 
eyes, "For me to be more like you ya mean? Little Ms. Goody-two-shoes?  
It 
ain't gonna happen B." 
 
 "Faith nobody's asking you to be like me. But you can't go on 
like 
this." 
 
 "It scares you doesn't it?"
 
 "Ya it scares me. Faith you're hurting people, you're hurting 
yourself."
 
 I climb down and land, "That's not it. That's not what bothers 
you so 
much. What bugs you is you know I'm right. You know deep down in your 
gut 
we don't need the law, we are the law."
 
 "No."
 
 I follow her knowing that things would never be the same; how I 
wanted 
them to be the same. "Yes you know exactly what I'm about cause you 
have it 
in you too."
 
 "No, Faith you're sick.
 
 "I've seen it B, you've got the lust, and I'm not talkin' about 
screwin' vampires."
 
 "Don't you dare bring him into this."
 
 "It was good wasn't it? The sex, the danger, I bet a part of 
you even 
dug it when he went psycho." I grin at her, because I can see it in 
here 
eyes, she knows I'm telling the truth.
 
 She pauses for a long beat, as if she were searching for the 
truth of 
what I'm saying and then she says, "No." She's trying to run from it.
 
 "See you need me to toe the line cause you're afraid you might 
go over 
it aren't ya B. You can't handle me livin' my own way and having a 
blast 
cause it tempts you, you know it could be you." She punches me. She 
punched 
me; the blond bitch punched me, and I like it; I touch the corner of my 
mouth 
and grin, and slyly I reply, "There's my girl."
 
 "No. I'm not going to do this..."
 
 "Why not? It feels good, blood rising..." She pushes me out of 
the way 
as the crate, that weighs God knows what, falls on top of her. I look 
at her 
and try and help-then the vamps come and try to take me on. I fight 
them off 
easy-chumps think they can take me. I start to bolt and I watch as Mr. 
Trick 
takes Buffy down. Throws her around like trash. Something clicks 
inside, 
that should be me. 
 
 Trick has her pinned down-he's grinning, the bastard, and I 
stake him. 
 The dust settles down, and Trick is gone. I see the staring face of 
Buffy 
as she looks at me with her pain filled green eyes and it tears me up 
inside; 
nothing would ever be the same for me again.
 
 The whole way back I was silent, Buffy didn't offer any 
chitchat, 
which was fine with me. I wasn't really sure about what I was doing or 
getting myself into. I stare at the wooden door thinking back about my 
life 
here in Sunnydale-my life as the *other* slayer. The more I thought 
about it 
the more I realized what I had to do. If I stayed here in Sunnydale-or 
hell 
if I left and went to another part of the country, a blond bitch'd 
still 
haunt me; always trying to prove she was better than me. She thinks 
that 
she's so powerful, so much better than me; it makes me sick. I should 
have 
let Trick kill her. But like I felt before that should have been me. 
It 
should have been me who whaled on Buffy; it should have been me who 
almost 
got the better of her. And it was going to be me to kill her. 
 
 He opened the door; I stare at the mayor and he looks at me with 
disbelief. "You sent your boy to kill me." He nods and replies, 
"That's 
right. I did." I sneer and say, "He's dust." He nods again, "I 
thought he 
might be, what with you standing here and all." I'm already a killer; 
they 
already see me as a killer. There's no way I can be the Slayer like 
everyone 
wants me to be. I'm not Buffy; everyone knows that. I'm Faith; I'm a 
bad 
girl. I'm a murderer; a killer-no one cares about killers. I look at 
him 
and realize that this changes everything. It alters the course of 
history; 
it alters the course of my fate, my destiny...and I don't care. I 
don't care 
about anything-I'm empty and hollow inside. I don't care about the guy 
I 
offed, I don't care about Buffy. I don't care about her fucking Scooby 
Gang, 
and her stupid Watchers. I don't care about anything-I'm empty and 
hollow 
inside. 
 
 Maybe being the good girl was all Buffy could do that she did 
better 
than anybody else in the world, but me? I'm the bad girl-and nobody's 
bitchier than I am; I do being bad better than anybody else in the 
world. 
"I...guess that means you have a job opening." He grins and moves out 
of 
the way and lets me into the office. Things will never be the same for 
me 
again and I don't care; I don't care about anything-I'm empty and 
hollow 
inside. 

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