A/N: More drabble stuff with Faith, because her pain is just so beautiful. Takes place during "This Year's Girl".
I don't own anything. Nada. Zip.
Someone once told her she was different from others, but Faith couldn't remember who said that. There was a lot Faith forced herself not to remember—her mother drinking herself to death, her Watcher drained of blood—but she desperately wished she could recall who told her she was different. She would shake their hand, at least tell them they were right.
Everybody loved Buffy Summers, loved the light she brought to the world even in the darkest moments. Faith herself loved Buffy, wanted Buffy to love her but knew that could never be. They were too different, light and dark, day and night.
Faith drifted into consciousness a whole nine months after she'd slipped into what was supposed to be eternal darkness, and she barely knew herself anymore but she learned quickly she was not like the others—different, coloured outside the lines.
She remembered Buffy, remembered the knife slicing hot through skin and knew Buffy had to be repaid in full for that wound, but more importantly Buffy had to be punished for not finished the job.
Outside, Faith lurked and watched—Giles' home fires were burning into the night and the four of them were all there, snug and warm and a family. And the other, the new boyfriend, so different to Angel—he stood hovering, like he wanted to be a part of it but wasn't quite there yet.
Faith could use that, hurt Buffy that way. Through the boyfriend, that was Faith's pattern—Buffy had to be taught that there was no such thing as security in a world that had Faith in it.
From the outside, Faith watched. She thought up a plan and couldn't take her eyes off Buffy, imagined the pain she would put her through in a matter of days. Buffy would pay, there was no doubt about that.
But no matter what she wished on her counterpart, Faith would always wish to be like her. To have her life, be in her skin—walk around in her body and know what it was like to be Buffy Summers, to be loved by everybody.
If that were possible Faith wouldn't hesitate. She didn't mind being different, that was okay, but Faith craved to be different from herself—to be someone else, someone coloured inside the lines.
She could wish—it just might come true.