Beauty/(Not So) Beast by Dana Woods

Two blocks away from the small church where Buffy forced their bodies back where they belonged, Faith is curled up in a ball in someone's back yard. Shaking. Shivering. Wishing every fucking thing her in fucking life had been fucking different.

Wishing she was different from the start, because maybe then she wouldn't be so fucked up.

A noise. Soft and quiet like a mouse rustling in the leaves, and Faith hopes it's something bad. Something stronger and fiercer and more desperate than she is. Because she can't do this anymore. She can't keep fucking everything up and being fucked up and she can't fix it and being Buffy didn't help and--

"Hi."

Warm eyes. Soft lips. Gentle hands that wipe the tears from Faith's cheeks. Tara, with her big eyes and sweet voice, whispering soothing nonsense and sitting close enough to Faith that she can feel Tara's muscles shift as she rubs Faith's back.

Minutes, maybe hours, pass. Circles on Faith's back. Heat from another person. Comfort that she doesn't know what to do with. Then words that she has to struggle to understand.

"Why did you... um, you know? Switch?"

Nothing is simple for Faith, not even the answer to a question that should be the simplest thing in the world. She should be able to say, "Because I didn't want to get taken by the Watchers." Or, "Because Buffy stabbed me and put me in a coma." Or, even, "Because I'm evil."

But she has no answer to give Tara, so she pulls away from all the nice things and presses her head against her knees. More soft rustling, fingers in her hair, a forehead against her skull.

"You don't have to be someone you don't want to be."

Her head jerks up so quickly that she slams it against Tara's chin, the crack of it sounding loud in the quiet behind a house where a family is being a family and all is right in the world.

Tara rubs her chin, brings her hand to Faith's face to wipe away more tears, and will she never fucking stop the fucking crying already? And, that's a no, she realizes as more tears replace what Tara's taking away.

Tears that won't end, softness and gentleness that she doesn't deserve because she's wrong and bad and she should be dead and buried and her head is going to drive her so insane that she won't be able to function if she doesn't do something.

So she moves forward, quick strike like a snake, pushes Tara back and lies on top of her. Prepares to strike again but soft and gentle and comfort and shit that's going to carve her insides away, all in a voice, in a word.

"Stop."

Freezes, caught between so much that she's shaking and she has to clench her teeth to keep from screaming.

And she's being pushed upwards. Sitting up, Tara in front with her long skirt a pool on the soft grass. Sweetness of lips against hers, coaxing them open even when Faith makes a noise, fearful and lost. Tongue sweeping against hers so slow and firm, nothing at all like the quick and fleeting kisses Faith's used to.

Everything about her is wrong and she's a mistake and there's someone sitting in front of her, kissing her, who Faith knows is right and whole and steady, and it breaks her. It breaks her and she pulls away, lifts her head to the sky and screams.

It brings the family to their back porch and Tara's arms around her, and it takes the tears with it, and Faith jerks back. Stands up and pulls at her hair and runs and screams.

She runs and screams until she's at the train yard out in the warehouse district, and she hops into a boxcar and it takes her away from Sunnydale, one slow chug at a time. And when it passes a rail switch and picks up speed, Faith stops screaming and she sits in the doorway and feels herself empty of everything but those words from Tara.

.End