New Town, New People by Lewin

There was a Homer like character propping up one end of the bar, a Barney clone next to him slobbering into his empty beer glass and an apron clad barman behind the counter ranting on about something or other.

She almost expected the barman to pick up the phone and shout out for Amanda Huggenkiss.

Willow smiled, her mind drifting. She remembered Giles telling her a story about his pre-Ripper days. It was hard to picture a twelve-year-old Giles making crank phone calls, not to mention drinking stolen bottles of cheap lager. He swore Ethan had spiked the drink, but Willow wasn't so sure. It was a far cry from summoning an all powerful demon to worship.

What was so funny about calling up a bar and asking for a Mr. B Hynd anyway? English people were strange.

"Look sweetie, we don't sell any of that French stuff here. Just good old American cognac."

"It's cognac. They're all French," Willow said. "That's why they're called…Never mind. Whatever you have."

A glass appeared in front of her, complete with a stars and stripes umbrella. Willow was seeing strangeness everywhere lately.

Alcohol was never her thing. It was not long ago that an extra strong Mocha was all it took to render her incapable of coherent speech. Babble took on a whole new meaning.

Someone once said that the quickest way to kick one addiction was to acquire another. All those evenings sitting by the fire with Giles and Claire had left Willow with more than a healthy appreciation for a good brandy. The bottle was almost full, but the world was not going to end tonight.

I am not who I used to be, Willow thought. Not Xander's best friend. Not Buffy's hacker and slayerette. Not Tara's lover. I'm me, just me. And that's enough.

Willow raised her glass, silently toasting herself. One year, she thought. One year without Tara. She was going to make it.

The drone of the engine filled the night air as the bike roared down the empty streets. Long dark hair billowed behind the rider's head, giving her the appearance of an avenging angel, her dark halo shimmering as she picked up speed. There was no pursuit. If anything, the rider seemed to be fleeing and chasing her own shadow at the same time.

Faith was miles from home. Sometimes she had to get away, to feel the wind in her hair, to answer only to herself and the stars above. The dank rooms of the shelter seemed to reek of hopelessness and an imprisoned future. They reminded her too much of the years spent in a Los Angeles cell. Looking into the faces of the kids who came each night, begging a bed and a bite to eat, she saw her own despair reflected back. Only on these dark empty streets in the middle of the night was she truly free.

But freedom always comes with a price. For Faith, that price was the memories: a little girl playing with her dolls in the stench of a cockroach infested Boston tenement, the beatings that healed just a little too quickly for anyone to notice, the comments as she walked down the school hallways – "Cheap slut…trash, I hear she's doin' her old man…already staked out her street corner," followed by the whirlwind years, full of grand words like Chosen and Destiny, ending in death and horror, everything falling apart around her. Then came Sunnydale, where all the hopes and dreams led to betrayal and a fifteen inch blade, culminating in vengeance, murder and a strangled plea for help: "Please kill me…I'm evil!" She almost welcomed the years locked in a steel cell with little for company but her own thoughts. And then the wheel came full circle, and she was back where she started: the soulless streets of south Boston.

A kaleidoscope of images flash through her mind as she attempts to find an anchor. Finally, she is left with only a handful of faces from Sunnydale. I'm sorry, Faith thought. I tried, but I just wasn't strong enough.

Faith's eyes are drawn to the flashing neon. She brings the bike to a stop opposite a dilapidated building proudly identifying itself as Gerry's Place. All the nearby buildings were boarded up, so chances were the place was a dive. Still, she wasn't due back at the shelter for a couple of hours.

It was not much better inside. The regulars huddled at one corner of the bar staring at a black and white TV. A couple of jocks were busy arguing over who laid the hottest chick the night before. A few lonely souls sat quietly, alone with their dreams and half empty glasses. Faith turned her head away. Is that me tonight?

A shock of red hair pulled her eyes back to the bar and the memories threatened to engulf her once more. Breathe Faith. I have got to learn to relax.

Boston was a long way from Sunnydale, and despite the mane of fiery red hair, this woman was nothing like her Willow. The outfit screamed vampire but Faith wasn't getting even a blip on her slayer radar. She was wearing tight black leather pants and the strangest red and black leather corset. Must be hard to breathe in there, Faith thought. The way she was nursing that bottle, she must have been here a while.

Shaking off the lingering unease, Faith raised her eyes to the mirror behind the bar. Definitely not a vampire, Willow was staring straight back at her.

Faith wanted to run. She wanted to hide or pretend to be somebody else. Instead, she slowly sat on the stool next to Willow and waited; it was time to face the memories.

"Good old American cognac, my new bad habit. Guaranteed not to destroy the world."

Willow watched Faith as she raised the glass to her lips. The blue denim jacket suited her, and the wild hair was just wild. There was no makeup; she looked about eighteen years old. Her eyes carried a sadness. It was a sadness from staring in the mirror one time too many and not liking what you saw. Willow knew those eyes.

"Sometimes." Faith raised her hand to her head, subconsciously trying to straighten it.

Faith was confused. Where was the anger she expected? Where was the condemnation? And why did Willow look like her vampire self?

"You sure about that? The whole fuzzy look was…innocent. I'm not innocent anymore."

They stopped and looked at each other, slowly smiling. Faith had not smiled in a long time. It felt good.

"I was going to Amery's," Willow said. "A sanctuary bar. Dressed like this I'd fit right in. But I changed my mind and came here. I don't dress fuzzy anymore though, that's all in the past. Like a lot of things."

"To sit and remember. To get drunk. Tara died a year ago today, killed by a bumbling fool." Willow raised her head and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"I tore the skin from his body and burned him alive." The room felt cold all of a sudden. Faith pulled her jacket tighter around her. Willow was different; the innocence was gone and with it the hesitation and fear. The woman sitting beside her had stared at her own reflection and seen hell staring back. Faith understood. The only thing she had left to fear was herself.

Willow rose from her stool and for a moment Faith panicked. She can't leave now, I need her to stay. She only relaxed when Willow stopped at the jukebox.

Soft notes drifted across the room; a haunting voice echoed the sadness at each solitary table. Tonight was a night for memories, a night to face them one last time and lay them to rest.

The song was familiar, yet somehow it sounded different tonight. Willow lay her head on Faith's shoulder and pulled her close. Images of Tara flooded her mind: a shy beautiful blonde nervously stuttering in her Wicca group, her hands as they caressed Willow's face after they made love, Tara's reflection staring back at her from the bedside mirror as she brushed her hair. She felt the tears slowly burn their way down her cheeks. Tara was gone and it was time to move on. She felt Faith's arms tighten their hold, pulling her closer, one hand stroking her hair as the tears silently flowed.

So Tara was dead, and Willow was a murderer. I'm not the only one facing memories tonight, Faith thought. She pulled Willow closer as she felt her shoulders shake. The last notes faded and Willow slowly pulled herself away. She wiped her eyes and looked at Faith.

Faith led Willow off the floor, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. The barstools were mumbling amongst themselves, casting sneering glances in their direction.

Catching the bartender's eye, Faith called out: "Hey Mavis! Nice apron." There were muffled sniggers around the room. Moe straightened up and looked about to say something. Faith was staring him straight in the eye, her face expressionless. When nothing happened she turned back to Willow.

"It doesn't matter where. Have you ever felt the wind in your hair at seventy miles an hour?"

"Why? Do you wanna live for ever?" Was Faith taunting her? It almost sounded like a dare.

Hand in hand they walked out of the bar, never looking back. The door closed behind them, shutting away the memories and the pain. It was time to face tomorrow.

Willow opened her eyes. This is not my bed, she thought. The rolling drum beat pounding inside her head told her what she was doing last night, but the gray wall in front of her was not familiar. She raised her head, flinching as the drumbeat got louder, and slowly looked around. Sparse, like a prison cell. There was a wooden cross nailed to the wall next to an open window, and a small print breaking the emptiness of the opposite wall. She knew the painting: Luini's Madonna and Child. It was a beautiful picture, a mother holding her young child close, full of love. It seemed out of place in such a sterile room.

Amery's. The memories struggled to the surface, her brain shaking off the cobwebs. Nathan was meeting her at the club. They were going to get wasted and cry into their empty glasses, rage against the world and the ghosts they still loved. But she got side tracked and crashed into Faith. And in the darkness there was light, Willow thought. Who would have guessed she would find herself crying on the shoulders of a woman she once hated. But time changed everyone, even Faith. Nothing was black and white any more. Seven long years had eaten away the line between right and wrong, good and evil, until only a few weary threads remained. Willow clung to those threads.

She shivered a little as the sheet fell from her shoulders, the harsh morning air caressing her skin. Not naked, Willow thought, but not far off. There was a pair of black jeans and a small black t-shirt lying on a chair by the bed. She hurriedly pulled them on, only noticing what she was wearing as she stared at herself in the mirror: "Vampires Suck," the message screamed, in blood red letters across her chest. Subtlety was never in Faith's vocabulary. The quick jibe, the clever one liners – they were more Buffy's style. Faith had a brutal honesty that Willow found refreshing after all the secrets and lies of Sunnydale. Smiling, she splashed water on her face and walked out the door.

It was chaos, but organized chaos – like a train station at rush hour. Each table was packed, the occupants gorging themselves in a frenzied manner, a hint of trepidation on each face, as if they feared someone would swipe the food from under their noses. Lines of unkempt, badly dressed teenagers trailed across the room, all waiting their turn at the food counter. Here and there a look of alarm crossed a young face – what if there wasn't enough to go around? The line was so long.

Ellie loved mornings. The despair that hung over the clammy corridors during the night seemed to lessen, as one empty stomach after another filled with hot food. On the best of mornings, the faint stirrings of hope shone from the most unlikely faces. Today was the best of mornings, Ellie thought. Faith had never shone before.

When she posted the notices all those months ago, Ellie wanted a bouncer with an attitude, not a waif barely older than the kids she fed. There was a look in Faith's eyes when she walked through the door that first time, a look that reminded Ellie of an abandoned puppy her daughter had taken home years ago. It screamed: "Take me in and love me." Her husband always used to say she was too soft, and maybe he was right, but how could she turn the girl away?

Oblivious to the eyes following her, Faith piled pyramids of food on each plate, turning a mundane breakfast into a feast fit for pharaohs. To the kids who snatched each plate greedily from her hands, struggling to balance the mountains of food, the day could not have begun on a brighter note. The queue was always longest when Faith was playing waitress.

There was something different about her this morning, Ellie thought. She was smiling and laughing; her eyes sparkled. She could not remember ever seeing Faith truly smile. There had been a haunting sadness in her eyes since the day she arrived. That sadness was not there this morning.

Ellie's eyes were drawn to a young woman standing in the kitchen doorway. She was dressed a little like Faith, black denim and angry boots, her flaming red hair a stark contrast to the other girl's darkness. There was a look of puzzlement on her face, the chaotic scene before her plainly disconcerting. Bewilderment was the word that came to Ellie's mind, the look she often saw on the faces of volunteers the first time they saw the huddled masses. "Yes," she'd always wanted to say, "this is the real world."

"Susie, get your ass over here," Faith shouted. "This food isn't gonna eat itself, you know."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," a young girl about fifteen years old said as she hurried across the room.

"Jeez Faith, I'll be fine." Susie rolled her eyes. "You're so like my big sister. Can you take me with you one night?"

Faith ignored her, her eyes drifting across the room. Willow was hard to miss. Even in the middle of all the chaos, she stood out like a beacon in the mist, a remnant of home in a foreign land. Boston was never her home. The closest Faith had ever come to a true home was those few magic months in Sunnydale, before she ruined everything. Seeing Willow here reminded her of how much she had lost. But it wasn't all lost, was it, Faith thought, not if Willow is here now. It was two in the morning when they arrived at the shelter, bone tired and running on adrenaline. They fell into bed without a word, sleep claiming them in seconds. Hours later, Faith woke to the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen below. She had woken to find herself wrapped in the arms of the red head, Willow clinging to her almost in desperation. The scent of Jasmine from the unruly mass of red hair reminded her of the previous night. She'd slipped out of bed without waking the girl, almost afraid to face her in the cruel light of a new day – giving her the chance to run if she felt the need.

Willow hadn't run. She was sitting at a table talking to Ellie, looking to all the world as if she belonged here. And she did. This was not the Willow she remembered. The old Willow was a shy, A-grade student who hid from the world, uncertain of her place and never expecting much from the people around her. But the old Willow was not a murderer with a shadow of darkness clouding her soul.

The last stragglers skulked away, their plates piled high, and Faith began to clear up.

The girl's name was Willow, and she was an odd fish, Ellie thought. Beautiful, in an individual kind of way, with eyes that darted around the room in a fascinating frenzy, eating up every detail, pausing as some of the more outlandish samples of humanity caught her attention. The conversation had been full of questions, with Ellie explaining who the kids were and how they ended up here. There were a thousand and one stories to tell, but the result was always the same: a lost and lonely child, despairing of the lot life had thrown at him, with nowhere else to go. The shelter was a refuge for many, a free meal for others, and salvation for the occasional few.

Ellie had guessed the girl was with Faith. There were many volunteers who helped out each week, but only Faith and herself stayed the night.

"She's the big sister," Ellie said. "Tucks them in each night, feeds them, breaks up the fights – she's good at that."

Surprisingly good, Ellie thought. It was the real reason she decided to take on a helper. Some of the kids were not kids anymore, and many of them had issues with authority figures. Ellie was a grandmother, not as fit as she once was, but Faith was stronger than she looked. There was an incident a week after Faith arrived that still left her scratching her head. Best not to think about it, Ellie thought. The important thing was that Faith made everyone feel safe, and that was a good thing.

The long line before the food counter had vanished and Faith was moving in their direction. She caught Ellie's eye and stared at her accusingly. Ellie just smiled at her, and turned her attention back to Willow.

"Oh, we met in a bar," Willow said. "Well, not met met, just kind of bumped into each other really. See we kind of met before and then, things happened, and…" Willow stopped as a plate was abruptly placed in front of her.

Willow looked up. Faith was standing next to her, a look of uncertainty on her face, her hands clenched, almost as if she expected Willow to get up and leave.

"Thank you," Willow said, smiling. "I'm starved." She put her hand on Faith's arm and gently pushed her onto the chair next to her.

Ellie was amused by the pair in front of her. Since when was Faith nervous? The girl had no fear, standing up to guys twice her size without flinching, but she was obviously tense around the young red head. The girl, Willow, seemed to understand, and peppered her with questions about the kids at nearby tables.

"That's Gaby," Faith said. "Ran away from home three weeks ago. Wanted to go to Hollywood to be an actress, but only made it as far as the train station. She's fourteen."

"I didn't hear you girls get in last night," Ellie interrupted. "Must have been late."

"Me and Faith, we go way back," Willow said, staring at the other girl. She turned to Ellie: "We have a long history, and a lot to talk about."

Ellie got the message. "I'd better see about clearing up then. Eat your breakfast dears," she said, pulling back her chair.

There was silence after Ellie left, neither knowing what to say, but each wanting to speak about the night before.

"I…" Faith looked down at the table. "I thought you might feel different in the morning. Sober and all."

"I wasn't drunk," Willow said. "Well, not very. But I was in a bad place last night." Willow placed her hand on Faith's arm. "Thank you for finding me."

Faith looked embarrassed. "Why are you in Boston," she asked. "It's a long way from Sunnydale."

"I couldn't stay in Sunnydale," Willow said. "Not after everything that happened." When she returned from England, things just hadn't been the same. "They looked at me differently. I didn't belong there any more."

"Sure they do. But I did bad things Faith," Willow said. "And the worst part is, I'm not even sorry."

Faith did not know what to say. There was a coldness to Willow when she spoke of herself and the things she had done, as if she were lecturing Buffy on the next Big Bad, and how she should be killed.

"I'm sorry I hurt Buffy, and Giles, and Dawn. I'm sorry I nearly killed Xander. But I'll never be sorry for killing Warren," Willow said.

"I guess that makes me a bad person," Willow said. "Not one of the good guys anyway." She was lost in contemplation. "That's why I had to leave."

"You did bad things," Faith said. "But that doesn't mean you're a bad person. You can change, do the right thing…" There was a desperation in Faith's voice, almost as if she were begging Willow to agree with her.

Willow looked into Faith's eyes, really seeing her for the first time. Was this what it had been like for Faith all those years, haunted by the belief that she was evil and incapable of redemption, believing herself to be the incarnation of everything she was supposed to hate.

"No," Willow said. "We don't." She tightened her hold on Faith's arm. "We can be whatever we want to be."

"I got out six months ago," Faith said. "Some technicality about me being underage when I killed Finch, I didn't really listen to the details."

"I guess I had a choice to make. Go to hell, or try and find my way back. I'm trying, but it's hard. Being good is hard. Doing the right thing…I don't always know what the right thing is."

"I wanted to face the past, where things all started to go wrong," Faith said. "I don't think Sunnydale is ready for me yet. So I came here."

"This is where it all started. On these streets, with people just like this," Faith said. "Pick any one of these kids, and that was me six years ago."

The room was slowly emptying, the last few bodies dragging themselves reluctantly out the door, preparing for another day on the streets. Most of them would return that evening, some would disappear for a day or a week, and one or two would never be seen again. Maybe they found their way back to whatever home they left, or maybe they just got swallowed up by the night.

"I killed my first vampire two blocks from here," Faith said. She turned to face Willow. "This is where I'm from."

"Let's take a walk," Willow said, smiling. "You can show me where you had your first kiss."

"Hey," Willow said, standing up. "I may be a big bad ass witch, but I'm still a nerd at heart. I had a conversation with a computer at M.I.T. Convinced it I really was a student, just sort of misplaced for a year or so."

Willow and Faith followed the last stragglers into the early morning air, talking and laughing as they went.

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New Town, New People

by Lewin

Copyright © 2004

lewin_storm@yahoo.com