TWICE CHOSEN
Part 17
By DragonWriter17
Rating: R (for language)
Content Warning: This chapter has references to child abuse.
Disclaimer: All of the materials borrowed from Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon and to the entities and companies associated with their creation. I have borrowed them for creative and entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been or ever shall be received for the writing below. No copyright infringement is intended.
My Website: http://www.dragonwriter17.net/
Feedback: Yes, but only if it’s of the non-flamey variety: DragonWriter17@aol.com
Distribution: The Watchers Forum, The Mystic Muse, and my personal site (If you are interested in posting my story on your site, please contact me first for permission.)
Spoilers: BtVS Season 3’s “Faith, Hope, and Trick” (and beyond)
Pairings: Buffy/Faith
Author’s Notes: (1) See the first three chapters for detailed notes on the origin of this story. (2) This chapter picks up where Part 16 left off. It continues in mostly original territory. (3) I’m having to split this chapter into several parts; this is Part 17A. (4) I’ve added an original character to the story; she was featured briefly by phone in Part 16. Her name is Dr. Helen Fielding. She is a psychiatrist who used to be in the employ of the Council but isn’t any longer. She’s an old friend of Giles. For the purposes of this story, I’m mentally casting Jane Seymour in that role. (5) For Faith’s backhistory for this series, I am using the novel Go Ask Malice: A Slayer’s Diary by Robert Joseph Levy (excellent book, by the way). I may not use all of its plot details or use them exactly as they appear in that novel, but I am assuming that Faith’s past in “Twice Chosen” is very similar to Faith’s past in Go Ask Malice. (6) Thanks, as always, to Lilly for the beta read and edit!
Number of Chapters: Unknown
Complete: 17A
Chapter
Summary:
While Buffy prepares herself for Intervention Part Two, Faith has her first
session with Dr. Fielding.
PART 01 PART 02 PART 03 PART 04 PART 05 PART 06
PART 07 PART 08 PART 09 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12
PART 17A
While Buffy and Faith were settling into bed at the Summers home, Giles was at the Hyatt, standing outside Dr. Fielding’s hotel room, his leather satchel at his feet. He nervously straightened his tie and smoothed the front of his jacket before knocking on the door. When he heard the locks being disengaged, he picked up his leather satchel and waited.
“Rupert,” Dr. Fielding said with a wide smile after she opened the door.
“Helen,” Giles replied, returning her smile. “I-I-It’s good to see you again. You look…” He stopped to take in the sight of his former colleague.
Dr. Helen Fielding was in her early fifties but looked as if she were barely into her forties. She was wearing heels and a shimmering brown cocktail dress that matched her long, light auburn hair. Though she usually wore it up in a neat bun, her slightly wavy hair now lay spilled about her shoulders. Her grayish green eyes appeared nearly hazel in the context, and she cocked an eyebrow at Giles as she waited for him to continue his compliment.
Giles’s smile grew bigger, and his eyes sparkled as he finally drew his gaze back to hers. “…absolutely stunning,” he finished.
Helen pursed her lips and purred, “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Then she stepped aside and gestured Giles into the suite. “Have a seat,” she said, pointing out the sofa in the sitting area as she passed it on her way to the bedroom just a few feet away. “I haven’t had time to change. I packed my car earlier today and drove straight here from the party.”
Giles watched her disappear into the bedroom and then sat down on the sofa, setting his satchel on the floor. He noticed that she hadn’t closed the bedroom door.
“Some special event?” he called out to her.
“Just a reception for a friend of mine at the university,” she called out in answer. “I had promised him that I’d be there.”
“Oh. Well, of course,” Giles said, fidgeting a bit. “I, I, I do hope you didn’t cut things short on my account,” he stuttered apologetically.
Now dressed only in her slip, Helen peeked partially out of the bedroom door and gave Giles a smirk. “Do you really?”
When Giles blushed in response, Helen merely chuckled and popped back to finish changing her clothes. Within a few more minutes, she came out, her petite and trim form now covered by a pair of black yoga pants with a matching hooded jacket and a white tank top underneath. She padded in her bare feet over to the sofa and sat down at the end opposite of Giles. She curled one leg under her and propped her arm on the back of the sofa.
“It’s good to see you,” she said sincerely. “It’s been too long.”
“Indeed,” Giles said.
After a moment of quiet staring, Helen broke the silence. “So…tell me about these slayers of yours, especially Faith.”
***
Meanwhile, across town, Willow was stepping onto the front porch of the Harris home. She had seen the television glowing behind the living room’s curtains, so she figured Xander was up. She gave the doorbell a lengthy buzz.
When Xander opened the front door, he didn’t seem happy to see her. Willow refused to be deterred, however; she matched him glare for glare as they engaged in a mini-standoff at the threshold.
Before he could tell her to leave, she abruptly announced, “We need to talk,” and pushed past him to enter the house.
Xander scowled and shut the door. “Well, come on in and make yourself at home,” he said with exaggerated sarcasm. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Then he followed her into the living room. He planted his feet and crossed his arms. “I don’t want to talk,” he said defiantly.
“Well, you’re going to, mister,” Willow told him. “Whether you like it or not.”
“Is that so?” Xander replied. “You can’t make me talk if I don’t want to, so why don’t you just—”
“ ‘Kick his ass’,” Willow interjected angrily, cutting him off.
Her statement threw Xander completely. “Um, what?” he asked, totally confused.
“ ‘Kick his ass’,” she repeated. “Is that what you told Buffy I said before she went after Angelus?” When Xander didn’t answer right away, she demanded, “Is it?!!”
Xander ducked his head in shame but only for a moment. When he raised it back up, there was fire in his eyes. “I did what I had to do,” he stated firmly.
She shot him an indignant look, though her expression was more pained than angry now. “My god, Xander…do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I was trying to help save the world,” Xander defended. “Buffy needed a nudge, and I gave her one.”
“The spell would’ve worked,” she said sadly. “In fact, it did work. Buffy told me that Angel’s soul was restored—right before she had to kill him. He didn’t remember what he had done—what Angelus had done—but she still had to kill him. Can you imagine what that must have been like?” Willow paused to let that question sink in; then she pressed on. “What if it had been Cordelia who had to die? Or me? Could you have done it? And if you had, could you have lived with yourself afterwards?”
Xander actually managed to look somewhat guilty as he lowered his gaze.
Willow took a deep breath and let it out. Then she went on in a rueful voice, “If Buffy had known to stall, maybe she could have prevented Acathla’s activation in time for the spell to kick in. Maybe we could have saved the world without making our friend kill the man she loved.”
At first Xander said nothing and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. But then he uncrossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked directly at his best friend.
“What do want from me?” he asked wearily.
Willow moved to stand in front of Xander. “I want you to try to work things out with Buffy.”
Xander let out a small huff of a laugh, but Willow ignored him and went on.
“We’re having another ‘intervention’ tomorrow,” she told him. “A ‘Team Talk,’ actually. At two, at the library. I want you and Cordelia to be there.”
When Willow saw Xander start to shake his head, she reached out and grasped his arm.
“Xander, if we don’t deal with this, it could tear the whole team apart. Is that what you want?”
Xander clenched his jaw several times before meeting Willow’s pleading gaze. “Fine, I’ll come,” he said. “But if you’re expecting me to be the whipping boy for all of this, forget it. Ain’t gonna happen.”
Willow gave Xander a ‘fair enough’ nod before slipping around him and heading for the front door.
***
Hours later, Giles and Helen were sitting next to each other on the sofa with an open folder spread across their laps. Giles had already given Helen a brief summary of the events of the last year, focusing most of his attention on the weeks since Faith’s arrival in Sunnydale. Helen was now frowning at a document many pages in length—a report from a psychiatric facility near Boston. Finally, she sighed and shook her head and then closed the folder.
“She’s very troubled,” Helen said, turning to Giles. “Very…damaged.”
“Yes, she is,” Giles agreed. “But…I-I-I’m encouraged by the recent events, despite their severity. I haven’t known Faith long, but I’ve seen a definite change in her. When she first arrived, she was so…insular. Of course, she was quite capable of being charismatically social when she wanted to be, but she never let anyone get close.”
“Perfectly understandable, given her history,” Helen commented as she set the folder on the coffee table and then stood up to stretch.
“But she’s beginning to open up,” Giles said as he too rose to his feet. “Just a tiny bit, mind you, but it’s a start. And she’s asked for help. That alone speaks volumes.”
“Very true,” Helen said, continuing her stretches.
Giles reached out and touched Helen’s shoulder, causing her to stop and look at him. “You can help her, can’t you?” he asked worriedly.
Helen smiled warmly and touched Giles’s cheek. “I helped you, didn’t I?” she said earnestly. Then she pulled her hand away and made a mock buffing of her fingernails on her jacket. “And I hadn’t even finished my residency yet.”
Giles took her hand in his. “You were a master even then,” he said gently before kissing the back of her hand.
“I told you…flattery will get you everywhere,” Helen reminded him before tugging him toward her and kissing him on the lips.
Giles eagerly returned the kiss, moving his hands to her hips then up her back to pull her even closer.
When they parted to catch their breaths, Helen whispered, “Stay with me tonight…”
Giles smiled but averted his eyes. “I…I wish I could but…” He backed out of their embrace until he held only her hands. “…I don’t think it would be appropriate…given the circumstances.”
Helen tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t appropriate before, either, but we still—”
“I know,” Giles told her, “and I have no regrets about that. None at all.” He gave her hands a squeeze to emphasize his surety. “But this time…it isn’t just us.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Helen admitted reluctantly while giving him a playful shove. “Damn you.”
Giles gathered his belongings into his satchel. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow morning then,” he said as he swung the strap over his shoulder and moved toward the door.
“Ten o’clock sharp,” they both recited at exactly the same time. They paused for a second then burst into laughter.
Helen gave Giles a small slap on the shoulder. “Get outta here, you.”
Giles did as he was told and headed down the hallway. Helen followed him with her eyes until he disappeared around the corner. Then she softly shut the door, her smile still lingering on her lips.
***
The next morning, Joyce arose early. She’d been second-guessing herself all night on the decision to allow Faith to sleep over. Now she donned her robe and tiptoed down the hallway to her daughter’s bedroom. She peeked her head in the door and let out a sigh of relief when she saw the two girls sleeping soundly but separately (and thankfully clothed). Then she took a full step into the room and watched them for a moment.
Buffy lay on her side, near to Faith but facing away from her. Faith was on her back with the sheet and blanket crumpled across her legs as if she’d shoved the covers off herself some time in the night. Now that Joyce was closer, she could see that Faith was frowning and mumbling in her sleep, apparently dreaming. Joyce frowned with her until she saw Buffy turn over and, without waking, snuggle against Faith’s body. Joyce was amazed to see the tension instantly drain from the dark slayer’s face. Faith’s mumbling ceased, and her body relaxed as she unconsciously returned Buffy’s embrace.
In that moment, Joyce felt her misgivings about her decision slip away. She had done the right thing. It might not be the right thing in the future, but for this one night, it had been what the girls needed. Secure in that knowledge, Joyce turned and left the room.
***
About an hour after Joyce’s check-in, Faith woke up. She took a deep breath and blinked her eyes open. When she realized Buffy was snuggled up against her, she smiled and hugged the sleeping blonde closer.
Gotta admit, she thought to herself. I could get used to this.
Faith glanced at the clock radio. It was almost eight o’clock. She had two hours before she was due to meet Giles—two hours before she’d have her first meeting with the shrink. She felt her stomach tighten and her heart begin to race.
Seemingly sensing Faith’s discomfort, Buffy woke up. She too blinked her way into alertness and then smiled when she saw Faith beside her.
“Hey you,” she greeted happily. “Did you sleep okay?”
Faith thought a moment and then said, “Yeah, I think I did.”
“Me too,” Buffy noted. “Felt good.” She leaned up on her elbow. “This feels good…waking up with you.”
“You read my mind,” Faith said with a grin before planting a kiss on Buffy’s lips.
Just then they heard Joyce call out to them from down the hallway. “Girls! Breakfast’ll be ready in ten minutes!”
Faith gave Buffy another kiss, then hopped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
As Faith exited the room, Buffy rolled out of bed, stood up, and stretched. She pulled back on her overhead stretch when she felt a twinge in her stitches. She walked over to the dresser, lifted her shirt, and examined her stomach. The wound was still a little tender, but otherwise, it was healing nicely.
Buffy opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and tugged them on. She figured Faith would need to do the same, so she pulled out another pair and tossed them on the bed. Then she sat down to brush her hair.
As she picked up the brush from her dresser top, she noticed a small bundle tucked into her jewelry box. She glanced at the bedroom door to see if Faith was coming back yet. When she didn’t see Faith, Buffy grabbed the bundle and unwrapped it. Inside was the small gold dagger that Buffy and her mother had bought from the pawnshop—the item Faith had sold to buy a dress for the Homecoming Dance. Buffy smiled widely as she thought about Faith’s upcoming birthday and how excited Faith would be to get her dagger back.
For just a moment, Buffy balked when she considered the fact that she was keeping an important secret from Faith. After all, they’d just gone through a whole lot of hell because of a secret, so maybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep this one from Faith either.
But this is a good kind of secret, Buffy justified in her mind. Like when you keep a surprise party secret. Suddenly, a mischievous sparkle entered Buffy’s eyes. Yeah…a surprise party…
As Buffy tucked the gold dagger back into the box and began brushing her hair, she let a full grin cover her face. When she finished brushing, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a band. While perusing her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice the bruise along her jaw where Faith had punched her. Buffy frowned as she gingerly touched it, her mind taking her back to the fight at Angel’s mansion.
I’ve got to talk to Angel, she told herself. And right away.
Just then Faith came in from the bathroom. “These for me?” she asked as she pointed to the pants on the bed.
“Yeah,” Buffy answered as she rose to her feet. “I laid those out for you.”
“Thanks,” Faith said, then quickly donned them. She ran her hands through her hair and turned to Buffy. “Do I look decent enough?”
“You look fine,” Buffy replied. “But I want to talk to you about something first.”
Faith eyed Buffy a bit warily. “Okay.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but…I need to talk to Angel today.”
“What?!” Faith demanded incredulously.
“Just hear me out, okay?” Buffy pleaded. When Faith appeared to comply, Buffy went on. “I need to talk to Angel so that I can ask him to leave town. I don’t think it’s good for any of us if he sticks around.”
Faith didn’t say anything. She just balled her hands into fists and clenched them tightly at her sides. Finally, she announced bossily, “Well, you’re not going there alone.”
Faith’s tone immediately pushed Buffy’s buttons. “What?” she shot back. “You don’t trust me?”
Faith turned angrily on Buffy. “Well, duh! You just lied about him to my face a couple of days ago, so yeah, I’m runnin’ a little low on trust right now.”
Buffy instantly held her hands up in a surrender gesture and blurted apologetically, “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just having a knee jerk. No, I’m a jerk.” She took a deep breath and added, “I’m sorry. You are totally right about the trust thing. I’m sorry.”
Judging Buffy’s apology to be sincere, Faith slowly calmed down. So Buffy went on.
“I guess I’m just feeling defensive,” Buffy explained. “With the team meeting and everything.”
Faith nodded in acknowledgement, but she didn’t say anything in reply.
Buffy put on a pleading look and then said, “Plus, I really want you to believe that it’s over between me and Angel.”
“I know you do,” Faith said, “but I can’t just forget what I saw.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The conversation stalled at that point, and the two slayers fidgeted in place for a long, awkward moment before Buffy spoke up once again.
“So…are you saying that you want to go with me when I see Angel?” Buffy asked for clarification, wincing a bit at the thought of Faith having to go through that. “I mean, I can get Mom or Will to go with me…”
“No, I can go,” Faith said. She tried to make her voice sound bravely nonchalant, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.
Buffy forced a smile and said, “Okay. How about right at sundown?”
Faith shrugged her shoulders and shoved her hands into the pockets of the sweat pants. “Works for me.”
“Great,” Buffy said without enthusiasm. Then she added, “I guess we’d better get downstairs.”
“After you,” Faith said, gesturing at the bedroom door.
At that, they headed out of the room and down the stairs in silence.
***
Within minutes, the two slayers were at the dining room table, digging into piles of pancakes, courtesy of Buffy’s mom.
Joyce watched the girls for a moment, pleased that they both showed a good appetite. As she poured syrup over her own stack of pancakes, she asked, “Did you girls sleep okay?”
The two slayers glanced at each other and smiled. Then Buffy said, “Yeah, we did.” Then she turned to her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m glad,” Joyce replied. “You two seemed to be sleeping very peacefully when I checked on you this morning.”
“Mommmmm…” Buffy whined in mild embarrassment.
“That was the reason for the open door, remember?” Joyce reminded.
Buffy pulled her shoulders back and proudly stated, “Well, as you saw, we were completely fooling-around-free. Right, Faith?”
Faith had just stuffed a forkful of pancakes into her mouth when Buffy elbow-nudged her. All Faith could do was nod enthusiastically in response to the question.
Joyce raised an eyebrow at the girls but smiled as she did so.
***
After they had helped Joyce with the breakfast cleanup, Buffy asked Faith, “You wanna hang out until it’s time for the ‘Team Talk’?”
“Sorry. Can’t,” Faith answered. “Got some things I gotta do.” When Buffy tilted her head in puzzlement, she said, “You know, laundry and stuff. Plus I’m meeting with Giles.”
“What about?”
“Just some personal stuff,” Faith replied, glancing away momentarily. “And patrol,” she added to change the subject somewhat. “Gotta get back on that animal mutilations thing, ya know.”
Though her curiosity nagged her, Buffy didn’t press further, especially since her mother was still within earshot. “It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I don’t need to know the details. Giles is your watcher, too. You’re entitled to private chats.”
Faith cocked her thumb over her shoulder. “Is it okay if I grab a shower before I go?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “That motel room shower really sucks. Never know when it’s gonna have hot water or not.” It wasn’t a lie, she told herself. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
“Of course,” Joyce said. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks!” Faith replied before heading upstairs.
As she watched Faith leave the room, Buffy frowned unhappily. She didn’t like the living conditions Faith had to endure at that ratty motel. Not one bit. A glance at her mother told Buffy that Joyce felt exactly the same way. Would her mother consider allowing Faith to move in with them?
No, Buffy thought. Not likely. She smirked to herself as the wheels turned in her mind. But not impossible. I just need to play my cards right.
***
A short time later Faith had finished her shower and had changed back into her own clothes. Just as she was leaving and telling Buffy that she’d see her at the school, Giles was calling Faith’s motel room. He wanted to make arrangements to get Faith to Dr. Fielding’s hotel at the proper time. Although he had let the phone ring for a long time, he never got an answer. As he hung up the phone, he glanced nervously at his watch. He’d wait another ten minutes and try again.
***
By the time Giles had made another fruitless call to the motel, Faith arrived at the bus station. She quickly got her duffel bag out of her locker and headed for the restroom. As she hurriedly changed into a fresh set of clothes, her thoughts went to her impending session with Giles’s shrink. She felt her stomach start to churn with dread.
After brushing her teeth and finger-combing her hair, Faith gripped the sides of the sink and gave herself a good stare in the mirror. She forced herself to take in a deep breath and then slowly let it out.
“You can do this,” she told herself.
Then she left the restroom, returned her bag to her locker, and rushed out of the bus station on her way to Giles’s apartment.
***
Just as Giles was about to call Faith for a third time, he heard a knock on his door. He replaced the receiver and answered his door. A look of relief passed over his face when he saw Faith waiting outside.
“Faith! Excellent!” Giles said with a smile as he invited her inside. “I was just trying to contact you to see if you wanted me to pick you up at the motel, but I didn’t get an answer.”
“Yeah…the, uh, the phone’s out,” Faith lied, still unwilling to explain the motel situation. “Told the manager. He said he’d get to it when he got to it.” She shrugged and forced a smile. “Crappy place, I know, but hey…better’n sleepin’ at the bus station, right?”
Giles let the phone issue slide for the time being and said, “I’d like for you to patrol tonight. If you’re able, that is.”
“Sure, I’m up for it.”
“You’ll need to be careful,” he reminded her. “You’ll be on your own.”
Faith tried not to think of the reason why she’d be patrolling alone. Instead, she flashed a cocky smile. “Don’t worry, Jeeves. I can handle it..”
Giles rolled his eyes and then guided Faith toward the sitting area. Once they had both sat down, he said, “I want to brief you a little before your appointment. The woman you’ll be meeting is Dr. Helen Fielding. She’s a very gifted psychiatrist. She used to work for the Watchers Council, but now she’s a professor at UCLA. She still practices, however, accepting only a few clients a year. She’s taking you on as a favor to me.”
“She must owe ya big time.”
“Actually, I owe her. When I was going through a very difficult time, she helped me. If it weren’t for her intervention, I sincerely doubt that I’d be alive today.”
“What did you do?” Faith asked before correcting herself. “I mean, why were you in such a bad place?”
“I don’t know if Buffy has told you or not, but when I was young and at university, I was quite the rebel. I refused to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a watcher. In fact, I did quite the opposite. I began to dabble in the dark arts. I had a talent, and I found the danger and power associated with dark magic to be especially thrilling. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before I was in over my head.”
“What happened?”
“My friends and I tried to summon a very dangerous demon. It went very badly, and one of my friends died. My father and the Council intervened and forced me into a sort of rehab. Dr. Fielding was my primary counselor during that time.”
“And she helped you get better?”
“Yes,” Giles replied. “It took quite a long time, but she persisted, and eventually, I recovered.”
Faith thought deeply on all of this. Then she asked, “So…what does she know about me?”
Giles glanced at his watch. “I’ll explain on the way,” he said as he rose and gestured Faith toward the door. “We mustn’t be late. Helen always insists upon promptness.”
***
About five minutes before ten, Giles and Faith arrived at Dr. Fielding’s hotel suite. Faith’s stomach twisted and turned, but when she looked at Giles, she realized she wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Grateful for the distraction, she watched as Giles straightened his vest and tie before knocking on the door. As he waited, he repeated the unnecessary clothing adjustments. When the door was opened, Giles’s face lit up in a beaming smile.
Dr. Helen Fielding was dressed in a sleek gray suit with a crisp white shirt that flared open at the collar. Her long auburn hair was up in its usual bun, but the look was professional, not severe. She wore simple but elegant jewelry—just enough to complement her clothing without being pretentious or gaudy. Her gray eyes shined warmly as she greeted her guests.
“Good morning,” she told them. “Come in, please.”
After being led to the sitting area, Giles began making introductions. He turned to Helen and said, “This is Faith Lehane, the slayer I’ve told you about.” As Faith and the doctor shook hands, he said, “Faith, this is Dr. Fielding.”
“Hey,” Faith said.
“Very nice to meet you,” Helen replied.
“Well, I-I-I won’t keep you,” Giles said. “I’m sure you want to get straight to work.” He smiled at Helen again before turning to Faith. “Would you like me to pick you up later?”
Faith waved him off. “Nah, don’t bother. I’ll walk.”
“Miss Lehane, why don’t you have a seat,” Dr. Fielding said, “while I see Mr. Giles to the door?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
As Faith sat down on the loveseat, Helen followed Giles to the door. “Shall I call you later?” Giles asked.
“Please,” Helen replied. “I imagine we’ll have much to discuss.”
“Would you be interested in holding that discussion over dinner?”
Helen smiled widely. “Sounds perfect.”
After seeing Giles on his way, Dr. Fielding returned to the sitting area. Faith had her elbows on her legs and was nervously wringing her hands. When she saw Dr. Fielding take her place in the chair opposite her, she straightened up and waited.
“Miss Lehane,” the doctor began before immediately interrupting herself. “May I call you Faith?”
Faith shrugged. “Sure.”
“Thank you. Faith, has Mr. Giles filled you in on my background?”
“Yeah, a little,” Faith replied. “Said you worked for the Council, but now you don't. Said you helped him once when he was in a really bad place."
“Did he tell you that he spoke with me and gave me your Council file to read?”
Faith nodded.
“Good, then you have some idea of what I know about you. According to the Council, at any rate. I’m actually much more interested in what you have to say about it all.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Fielding picked up a notepad from the end table and then went on. “There are two more things I’d like to clear up before we get started. First of all, how much information about your sessions do you want me to share with Mr. Giles? We can make our sessions completely and totally confidential; I share not one minute speck of data with Mr. Giles. Or you can give me permission to share only certain information with him, such as your overall progress or current state of mind, but no deeply personal details of any kind.”
Faith thought for a minute. Then she asked, “If you tell Giles about our sessions, what kinda stuff are you gonna tell him? And is all that gonna end up in another file going off to the Council?”
“I will tell Mr. Giles only very general information and only what you want him to know or feel comfortable with him knowing,” Dr. Fielding assured her. “None of these sessions will be part of your Council file. This arrangement is between me and you, and tangentially Mr. Giles.”
Faith was still hesitant. “But who’s paying for this? I mean, somebody like you don’t come cheap.”
“I’m doing this pro bono, as a favor to an old friend.”
“You and Giles go way back in the Tweed Brigade, huh?”
Dr. Fielding’s lips quirked into a smile at Faith’s choice of words. “Indeed, we do.”
Faith thought a moment more, then shrugged and said, “You can tell him stuff.”
Dr. Fielding made a note on her writing pad. “All right. The second thing is I’d like to give you an idea of what to expect in these sessions. I don’t even like to call them ‘sessions’ really. I prefer to call them ‘talks.’ That’s what they are, really. Just two people talking. But talking isn’t always fun. We’ll be discussing some difficult topics. I may ask you to share—and struggle with—things that make you extremely uncomfortable.”
“I don’t care about that,” Faith said. “I just know I gotta do this.”
“All right, let’s get started then. What I’d like to focus on today is the purpose of these talks—specifically, why you asked for these sessions, why you think you need them, and what you hope to gain from them.”
Faith couldn’t answer at first. She had been so determined to do this, but now that she was here, actually in a session, she couldn’t seem to come up with the words.
Emotions rushed through her as images flashed in her mind: the sense of righteous satisfaction she felt when she first punched Buffy at Angel’s mansion and saw the look of shock on her face; the black, boiling rage that consumed her as Buffy recoiled in fear; the exultant revenge that changed to horror when she realized she had staked Buffy and not Angel.
“Faith?” Dr. Fielding prompted.
“I…I hurt Buffy,” Faith finally answered.
“Buffy…your girlfriend…the other slayer?”
Faith nodded.
When Faith didn’t elaborate, Dr. Fielding prompted her again. “How did you hurt Buffy?”
Visions of the mansion fight assaulted Faith’s mind once again, but this time other images slipped in. She saw herself at seven years old being slapped by her mother and called a ‘worthless little bitch.’ She saw herself at ten being dragged by her hair into the kitchen before being beaten with a broom handle. Then she saw her current self gleefully stabbing Buffy in the heart during her Kakistos nightmare.
“I hit her and…stabbed her with a stake.”
“This was the incident at…” Dr. Fielding consulted her notes. “…at Angel’s mansion, yes?”
Faith nodded. “Yeah.” She hung her head and stared at the floor for a moment. When she lifted her eyes, they were damp with tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt her…” Faith looked away again. Great. You’re lying already, and you’re barely five minutes into your first session. She let out a sigh and added, “Not like that, anyway.”
“How did you mean to hurt her, then?”
Faith balled her hands into fists, opened and closed them several times. Then she looked back up. “I wanted to take Angel away from her. I wanted to make her watch while I sent him straight back to hell.”
“But she didn’t allow that, did she?”
“No,” Faith responded testily. “She protected him.” Faith then shook her head. “But that only made me madder, more determined than ever to get him—and her.”
“So the hitting and the staking you mentioned…they occurred during this altercation over Angel?”
Faith shrugged. “Basically, yeah.”
“Who hit first?”
“Huh?” Faith asked, confused.
“Who threw the first punch?” Dr. Fielding clarified.
“Oh. Um…” Faith thought for a few seconds. “Well, Buffy yanked me away from Angel, but landing an actual punch? I guess I did.”
Dr. Fielding gave her an eyebrow raise. “You guess?”
Faith gritted her teeth. “I did,” she repeated with annoyed emphasis.
“And how did it feel?”
“ ‘How did it feel?’ ?!” Faith shot back, disturbed by the question.
“Yes,” Dr. Fielding replied simply before waiting calmly for Faith’s answer.
Faith huffed and looked away, but then she forced herself to consider the question. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as she remembered the surge of energy she had felt when she had seen Buffy’s head snap from the impact of her fist.
“It felt good,” she admitted. “I wanted to do it again.” She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. “If Buffy hadn’t been a slayer…”
Faith frowned in pain as she imagined herself savagely beating a powerless Buffy. Faith’s stomach clenched into a knot, and she wrapped her arms around herself and bent over slightly.
“God, I’m sick!” she said in disgust. “I’m fuckin’ sick for wanting to do that!” She rocked in place a few times. “I said I loved her. How can I love her and want to do that?”
Dr. Fielding waited until Faith looked up and met her eyes. Then she gently said, “Because you are sick, Faith.” She quickly added, “Not in the way you meant the term, but sick nonetheless. But you’ve done the right thing. You’ve sought out a doctor, and I can help you get better.” She paused and then went on. “But this isn't something that can be cured overnight. I can’t hand you some pills and say, ‘Take two and call me in the morning.’ Do you understand that?”
Faith nodded.
“This ‘illness’ of yours is deeply rooted in your childhood.”
Faith couldn’t help herself. She gave the doctor a weary groan and eye roll.
“I know,” Dr. Fielding chuckled. “The last thing a patient wants to hear from her psychiatrist is ‘We need to talk about your childhood.’ But in your case it truly is crucial. Do you believe that?”
“I guess,” Faith said before correcting herself. “Yes, I believe that. I mean, I know I’m screwed up, okay? And I know my mother did most of the screwin’ up. But...I just don’t see how talking about all that crap is gonna help. It’ll just make me mad all over again...make me hate her even more. Which has nothing to do with me and Buffy.”
“Trust me. It will help. And yes, it will make you mad, and it will hurt, and it will make you feel that hatred for your mother more intensely than you’d care to. But that’s what it’s designed to do. To make you feel. To make you experience those emotions that you wouldn’t allow yourself to feel when you were a child. You couldn’t handle them then. You weren’t strong enough. But you are now.”
Faith stared at her intently as if taking it all in.
“Will you trust me?” Dr. Fielding asked. “Will you let me lead you through this?”
After a long moment, Faith nodded. “Okay.”