*****

Her mattress is this nasty thing. Drab olive green plastic with rips and tears. No support, or comfort of any kind.

The stuffing is coarse and thin. It doesn't fall out, just sort of oozes. She picks at it like an old scab. Plays with it while she stares at the cracks in the ceiling. Thinking. Pondering.

She's no believer - not of that kind anyway. She believes in herself and that's about it. Past experience has shown her that this is the best method. She's all about learning from her mistakes. God has nothing to do with it.

And at any rate, religion is for other people. Needy people. People who think something is lacking. Missing.

Faith isn't needy. Nothing's missing. She doesn't need anybody else. Ever. Even now.

That temporary loss she felt, it's all over. Gone.

The minute chink in her armor has been refilled. She's over it. And she knew why, long before anyone decided to say a damn thing about it.

Long before Angel visited and the Council bothered to send her word. To acknowledge her existence. It only took them three fucking weeks.

Better late than never, or something.

It was all pointless anyway. Just going through the motions. It's not like she didn't know anyway.

The Chosen One. The Chosen Two. They will always be connected. Always.

When she hurts, Faith feels her pain. When she's happy Faith shares in that hope. It's bittersweet. So many things that should unite them instead serving to keep them apart. A bit like the Grand Canyon.

When she came back Faith felt the hole in her heart close up. Seal over. She could feel her shell being rebuilt, shored up. Even as she lay on her sorry excuse for a bed.

Even as she slept, life went on without her and all because Buffy lives. Big fucking surprise there. It's not like she was ever really dead in the first place.

She never died to her. Not to her. For Faith, she was always alive.Not that she's spiritual or anything. Never has been, never will be.

She and God aren't even on speaking terms and she wouldn't know him if he was in the next cell over. She thinks that he gave up on her a long time ago. Not that this bothers her. But still. It's the principle of the thing. There's principalities involved and that's why she's back. Like in the Shining. B has more lives than a cat. Maybe she should've listened harder when the Mayor said there were nine million ways to skin one.

She's almost impressed. Of course she'd have to come back from the dead. Of course she couldn't just stay where she was.

She's THE ONE. THE slayer. Not _a_ Slayer, but THE slayer. Everyone else is a just a low-rent substitute. Could never hold a candle.A stand-in until the leading actress finishes in wardrobe and make-up. And poor Faith, just can't let it go. The bitterness. The anger. The hurt.

Can't she be the one? Just once?

She probably did it just to spite her. She _wishes_ she had done it to spite her. To prove a point. At least then she would know that she still cared about her. Still thought about her.

///Hey B. I heard you came back. Why the fuck did you do that?///

But she's not. Faith knows that Buffy doesn't think about her anymore. That in her mind _she's_ the one that's dead. Bitch.

She can't even be glad. Can't even take comfort in B walking around in Sunnydale all perkiness and shit because she hadn't even come to terms with her being dead yet. Denial. And ain't THAT some shit.

Hadn't even worked her way through her grief and here comes Buffy raining on her parade yet again.

But that's not the real issue, it's just filler. Like the mattress stuffing. What really grates on Faith's nerves - what's really responsible for all her sleepless nights and her latest collection of nervous habits is what she can't say. Can't express. Her relief.

Faith was never very good at recognizing her emotions. At dealing with them. But this can't escape even _her_ notice. It's there every morning. Every time she takes a shower. Every lap of the yard and every stride of every step.

She loves her. Loves Buffy. Would've given up her life for her if only she had _asked_. Could've spared everyone all that grief and shown her how she felt. How she has changed. But she won't even get than chance now. Instead she'll rot between concrete walls and iron bars. Instead her heart will wither and shrink into a pitted prune.

All this just because she knows. Knows that B doesn't love her. Never will and she'll never be good enough. Never be _the one_. And if that fact smacks her around and rings in her ears, it's for a good reason - because it's just that. A fact. The truth.

Faith hates the truth. It's a nasty thing. Stark. Naked. Chest to the wall and ass to the room. It leaves her exposed. And the realization is painful. Makes her life that much less important. If love is the key then she's locked out.

In this life Buffy will live and Faith will just exist.

Maybe in the next one it will be different.

-finis-