t h e . c o m f o r t . o f . d e n i a l

The Comfort of Denial
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: Faith gets some news

Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. My first Faith fic! And Challenge in a Can is addictive. I love it! My words for this one were "Faith, picture, depressed"

You should check out Challenge in a Can - it's a blast and there's some great fic.

She looked at the picture. She was surprised, under the circumstances, that it still had the power to get to her.

She traced a finger along the curves of their faces -- first Buffy, then Cordelia, Xander and Willow.

It had been taken at Homecoming, almost three years ago now. Before everything went to hell. Before she took the decisive step that led her to the path which ended in the cell she sat in now. Before she'd blown her shot at Buffy.

Not that she'd ever really had a shot, but then she'd thought she might have.

No, she never had a shot, not with Angel in the picture -- not literally, though. He wasn't there, except in the shadow in Buffy's eyes, the secret she was keeping from them.

Secrets are bad, Faith thought. Her mother told her to keep it a secret when Uncle John touched her in a bad way, because otherwise she'd get in trouble. But someone had told, and he'd wound up in jail. That was when her mother started the daily beatings, always angry because Uncle John wasn't around to support them any longer.

Her Watcher told her to keep being a Slayer a secret, because somehow, other people knowing would get her killed. But it had only gotten Moira killed, and Faith had run.

Buffy's secret had cut Faith to the quick, and then their shared secret had led to the split between them.

She sighed.

She folded the picture and put it back into the book she was reading. No use crying over spilt milk.

One of the guards came to the door then, unlocking it and leading her wordlessly out to the Visitors' Room.

She sat behind the glass, smiling at Angel, whose answering expression could only be called grim. Possibly even depressed, though she knew he'd been working to overcome his Brood Boy tendencies.

Picking up the phone, she said, "Angel, what is it?" All joy at his visit was gone now, as fear twisted her stomach into knots. Her skin prickled in premonition. "Who?"

"It's--" He paused, swallowed hard, and she found herself concentrating on the motion of his Adam's apple. "It's -- Buffy. She's--"

"Oh, God. No."

Angel's eyes closed against her repudiation, and then opened, meeting hers, refusing her the comfort of denial. She saw there the truth of his unspoken words.

He laid a hand flat on the plastic that separated them, and she met it with hers.

"Yeah," was all he said.

She cried angrily, the way she did everything, with an energy that most people would never harness.

He left after a few moments, and she couldn't blame him. She thought it'd be a long while before he visited again. And that was okay.

On returning to her cell, she pulled the picture out again. Blinking away the last of her tears, she retreated into the past, refusing to believe that Buffy was dead and she could no longer make amends.

End

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Disclaimer: All Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, David Greenwalt, Greenwolf Productions, Sand Dollar, and the Kuzuis. I do not own them and do not intend any infringement on any copyrights.