This one is teen.Spoilers:
Through BtVS, Season 7, and all "Reaper," up to and including Season 2, Episode 5, "I Want My Baby Back."Disclaimer:
I so totally own these shows. Bow Down! *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.*Author's Notes:
So this just popped into my brain, and work is slow, so I just let it happen. Hope it isn't too sappy.
* * * * * * * * * *
Sam grabbed the shot of vodka and tossed it back, wincing as it burned before chasing it with the rest of his beer. He was alone at the Brickhouse, thinking. He could have asked Sock along, but Sock wouldn't really pay attention to what Sam needed to say. Andi had to work, and Ben was on a date with Nina, so the only person left to talk to was his Dad, but his Dad was a zombie. Zombies and public didn't mix. Besides, his Dad had his own problems; Sam didn't want to add to them.
"Hey," he called, waving his hand at the bartender. "Can I get another round?"
The bartender frowned but nodded. A few seconds later, Sam had another shot and beer.
Someone sat next to him. Sam glanced; it was a pretty girl, a babe in tight clothes with dark hair. Normally, Sam wouldn't have leered; after all, he had Andi. He usually would have at least appreciated the hotness, but not this time.
"Hey, can I get a beer?" she asked. She turned and looked at Sam. After feeling her stare for a few seconds, Sam looked back at her.
"Can I help you?" Sam asked.
The bartender handed her a beer.
"Nah, just wondering what's got you so twisted up," she said, taking a drink of beer.
"I'm just having a drink," Sam countered.
She smiled. "Bull. I've been checked out by enough guys to know the types of looks. You look like someone who thinks I'm hot, but is too distracted and worried to even think about it. Like you've got the world on your shoulders. You're not worrying about the little shit; there's something big on your mind."
"It's complicated," he said, hedging. He wanted to talk, he really did. But she'd think he was nuts. "Besides, you don't want to hear my sob story."
"Maybe I do. You look pretty torn up. 'Sides, I know what it's like to need to talk but you feel like you can't tell anyone. I got a friend that I can go to when I need it, but I'm thinking you don't."
"I do, but I don't think they... they know about everything, but they're barely dealing with stuff as it is."
She took a drink of her beer before speaking again. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger. Besides, I'm just passing through, so if I do get freaked out, oh well."
"Okay," he sighed. "My name's Sam."
They moved to a table in the back. It was pretty empty, but it usually was on Tuesdays.
The sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam finally spoke."
"So this'll sound weird, but do you believe in the Devil?"
Something in her eyes flickered.
"I guess so. I mean, I believe there's hell, so there must be a devil."
"Do you think it's possible to be evil, to be born evil, to have that nature come out on top?"
"I dunno. I mean, there are some people who are born messed up in the brain and become serial killers. But there are usually hints about those guys from the start. You kill small animals for fun?"
"Okay then. That's a sign that at your core, you're not evil."
"But that's genetic. I mean, what if I'm destined to become evil?"
Faith snorted. "Look, destiny is a load of shit. I mean, yeah, sometimes there are things that are destined to happen, events that will take place. But the destiny of a person isn't set in stone. Sometimes people can end up in a dark place, and they need someone to pull them back, remind them of who they are. But I don't believe that people are destined to be evil. Because ultimately, it's their choice. Some people give in, go with the current. But some people fight back," she said, her eyes growing darker, unfocused as she spoke. She knew what Sam meant. "It's easy to give in, but as long as you got someone in your corner, you can come back. I did."
Sam and Faith looked up. Sock was at the bar, ordering and staring at them.
"Guess our time's up," Faith said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card, laying it on the table. "Here, give me a call if you need to. I mean it."
Sam quickly stuffed it into his wallet. "Okay, I will. Thanks."
"Anytime, man. And hey, if you ever do think you're going to go completely evil, just let me know; I'll come kill you."
"Really? Thanks," Sam said, chuckling until he saw the serious look in her eyes. "You're not kidding?"
"No. The way you're talking, it's not just 'what if.' You believe people could get hurt, bad things would happen. So yeah, I'd do it, but I wouldn't enjoy it," she said. Her eyes looked tired.
Faith smiled at him before quickly leaving the bar.
"So who was that piece of incredible tastiness?" Sock asked, dropping into the seat Faith had vacated.
"Just someone who needed directions."
"To my place, I hope."
Sam smiled and only half-listened as Sock began recounting his latest conversation with his step-sister.
It was a relief, knowing that there was someone who'd stop him if the Devil's claims came true, someone who'd keep Sam from hurting anyone. And that made him feel better.