Dear Buffy

"That's sounds fuckin' stupid," Faith mumbled as she balled up the paper in front of her.  

Sup, B?

She crumpled the page again.  "Can I try and not sound like a fourteen year old idiot?"  Faith sighed in frustration.  "This letter writing shit is harder than it looks."  She grabbed her pencil and tried again.

Buffy,

"That works."

Buffy, I know it's weird, me writing to you.  Well, weird isn't the right word for it, I guess.  But I've been wanting to talk to you about some stuff, some stuff I've avoided for mad long, and I'm thinking now's the time to start.

I take it if you actually are reading this, you didn't just trash it after seeing this is from me.  I want to thank you for that.  For giving me this chance, even if you never respond.

I've been here in prison for two years and one month, officially.  It seems crazy that it's been so long.  Been a little longer since I turned myself in.  That was the last time I saw you.  I don't know how much Angel told you about that time but I feel like you need to hear it from me.  All of it.

I'll be honest, I never thought I'd be writing to you. A couple things have changed, but most importantly, I guess, is that I'm worried about you.  I don't know if this is one sided or just in my head, but I think I can feel you.  I can feel when big stuff happens to you.  I felt your heart break when your mom died.  I'm so sorry about that.  She was a wonderful person.  One of the few people who gave me a real chance.  I pray for her just in case there is a God listening 'cause I'm sure she's right up there in heaven.  I'm sure that's where you were too.

I felt when you died.  I thought I died right with you.  When you were gone, all those months, it was hard, B.  What kept me from losing hope, from going insane (more insane than you think I am already) were the dreams I had of you.  I don't know if my unconscious was trying to comfort me or if it was true, but I could feel you.  I felt warm and complete in those dreams.  I'm guessing that's how you felt wherever you were when you were gone.

I know something happened a couple weeks ago.  I don't know what, but I felt close to losing you again.  From this existence, I mean.  I'm glad you're here and safe.  

That's why I'm writing.  I thought I lost you, lost the chance to tell you how sorry I am for everything I've ever done to you.  I'm not saying this is an excuse for what I did.  The things I've done, they're unforgivable.  I don't ever expect you to forgive me.  But, I want to tell you why I did them; the things I know the reason behind now at least.

We never really talked about my childhood too much.  I don't blame you for not asking about it; I probably would've lied anyway.  I never really knew my dad.  I thought he was dead until right before I came to Sunnydale.  Turns out he was in jail for killing someone.  Insert some dark joke about fruit falling from trees here, I guess.  I only ever lived with my mom.  She was a drunk and a drug addict and damn it I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss her.  Sure she treated me like shit, but, she was all I had.

She died around the time I was called.  She was killed by her boyfriend/pimp.  I nearly killed him, but luckily for me, my Watcher saved my ass.  

We never talked about my Watcher, my real Watcher, the one before Wes, before Ms. Post, before fuckin' Sunnydale. Diana, she was the best person I ever had in my life.  I'm glad she died before she could see what I've become.

Diana took me in.  She gave me everything my mother couldn't.  My mother was never well enough to love me properly.  I know that now.  She was too sick, too deep in her own pain.  I always thought her own pain would be the thing to consume her, killing her in the end.  Part of me knows she went down fighting instead of giving up on life, the way she gave up on me.  I know she had to, but it still hurts.

But anyway, Diana was the caring, strict mother-type I thought only existed in movies.  You would've hated her at first like I did.  My trust never came easy, especially with some British woman offering me everything I ever wanted.  I was already bounced around foster homes by the time I met her.  I should've known it wouldn't last.

You met the reason my Watcher died.  He followed me to Sunnydale after terrorizing half of Boston to get to me.  You asked me once what Kakistos did to her.  He did destroy her.  I watched as he ripped her in half, starting at her spine.  He held her hostage for God knows how long; kept her naked and crying and I ran from him, unable to defeat him.  He chased me down in Sunnydale and, well, you know how that ended.  We never really talked about what happened afterwards.  I put on a brave face, but I died the night Diana did.

It's hard to talk about Diana.  She was who I always wanted in my life, and I spent every moment before and since looking for her in the wrong people.  My social worker couldn't protect me, no foster parent ever treated me like more than a cash cow.  When Ms. Post came to Sunnydale, I thought I'd gotten lucky again, but she turned me against you.  Then there was the Mayor.  As much as I want to explain myself, I know there's no need.  It was obvious I was in deep, chasing every twisted kind of affection anyone would give me.

I was so jealous of you, Buffy.  Before I met you, I would daydream about what life would be like being around you.  Having someone there who knows exactly what I was going through.  But, let's be honest, B, you didn't understand.  Looking back, I had no idea what you were going through either.  We pushed each other out.  I know I did the second I thought I'd get burned by you.  That was the one thing I could've done to ensure I did get burned.  I was so mad that you couldn't understand me.  How could you?  I never gave you a real chance.  I'm trying to make up for that starting with this letter.

I can't go much longer with all your dying without telling you I'm sorry.  I may never be able to make it up to you but I am sorry.  You truly are one of the most incredible people I've ever met.  That's quite a short list, B.

Well, this has gotten pretty long.  I still have so much more I want to say, but I know this is a lot.  If you want, if you read this and want more answers, write me.

Hope this isn't goodbye, B.

See you around,

Faith