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65 Thoughts on Life, Death, Dying & Deadpool

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Summary: We talk about the Golden Girls. He goes on about Bea Arthur. I tell him that I'm more a fan of Betty White. I think he considered having a throw down over it. Faith/Deadpool

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Marvel Universe > DeadpoolFaithLestrangeFR1513,6878151,51618 Mar 1018 Mar 10Yes
Disclaimer: Deadpool belongs to Marvel, BtVS and Angel belongs to Joss Whedon

A/n: Yeah, so I've gotten pretty much obsessed with the Deadpool comics after DireSquirrel's story "Thinking in Little Green Boxes" turned me onto the character. So, I've pretty much been reading all of them I can... read the entire first run of his solo comic, and the Cable & Deadpool one too. I'm working on all his appearances in other comics now, and then into the newer Deadpool. He's pretty much the funniest Marvel character I've ever come across.


Running for your life from the demon who brutally slaughtered the only person who ever gave a damn about you wasn't fun. In fact it was the opposite of fun. It sucked. A lot.

But on the road, you did meet the most interesting people.

Like that pedophile who tried to rape me after he'd offered me a ride to Illinois. He wouldn't doing that to any girls ever again. Mainly because he'd no longer have the equipment to pull it off.

But, as a conciliation prize he did have a lovely singing voice now.


Want. Take. Have.

Want a drink, but the cashier refused to sell to minor.
Take cash register to bash him over the head with it.
Have bottle of Jack Daniels. And everything in the cash register. Even the Canadian pennies.

Being a hot bitch with superpowers had it's advantages.


I wake up with massive headache to find myself tied to girder in abandoned building.

Well, not completely abandoned. There's a black & red masked man who is sipping absently at a Big Gulp and munching on some Doritos. His mask is rolled up slightly and I can see that he's scarred underneath his mask.

"Hey, kid. Want some Taco Bell before that vampire comes and kills you? I could murder for a chalupa right about now. Or possibly a chimichanga? Not that I like chimichangas... I just like saying it."


"Hey, look. Don't get all angry at me! I'm just doing my job here! That Kissing-Toes guy paid me good money to get you all hogtied and wrapped up in a bow."

He frowned and looked around thoughtfully, "Speaking of, where did I put that ribbon?"


"Say, firecracker.... you're what, 16-17?"

"17 in December." I glared, "Why? You fixin' to get your rocks off before I assume room temperature?"

He scoffed, "Get you're head out of the gutter! I won't stand for rotten behavior like that in my hous-err-- factory, Missy! I may be a no class bastard who would kill my own brother if you paid me enough-- if I had a brother-- but I don't do no funny business with teenagers! And stop trying to chew through your ropes! Don't think I don't see you over there!"


"So, why does this ol' crusty vamp want you so bad? You piss in his blood bags or something?"

"I wrestled and killed his favorite alligator. And then I nearly chopped his head off after he killed my Wat-- my friend."

I was growing tired of this man. But damn if he didn't know how to tie a damn knot. Fucker must have been a Webelo as a kid.

"You wrestled an alligator!?!"

He jumped up from his spot on the dilapidated couch like an excited child.

"A hot chick grappling an alligator?" he mused, "I would have paid to see that! In fact I think I did once.... or was that a midget fighting a komodo dragon?"


"Fighting vampires naked, you say?" He stood up quickly and headed toward the corner of the building whispering to himself, "Seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeen.... must not.... do not... well... what's statutory to a guy with my record...?"

I really don't think he realized he was speaking that last part out loud. I continued to fiddle with my ropes. Maybe he'd stay distracted long enough for me to break free.


"Hey! Wadda'd I say!?! Quit trying to break free, I don't want to have to hurt you, kid. And those guys should be around soon to come and kill you."


"So, you're this mystical warrior?"

I nodded warily.

"Then you should really learn how to fight, huh?"

He twirled his katanas around. I turned scarlet red in anger.

"I mean you were incredibly easy to take down, honey. I mean-- I'm the best merc around, so I would have gotten you regardless. But, honestly? You're fighting forms-- blech!" he gave me a thumbs down, "Strength, you got that sure. But you're sloppy! You should really learn how to fight. Take some lessons or something."

"Yeah... I would. If, you know, you weren't going to let Kakistos kill me in about an half an hour."

"Hey, it's not my fault you have poor time management skills."


"So, uh, Kok-Easties... where's my money?"

"Kill him." Kakistos spat at his nearest minion.

The mercenary looked utterly downtrodden, like someone had just kicked his puppy.

"So does this mean you're not going to pay me?"


I blinked dumbly at the now smoking & thoroughly demolished building.

The man looked at his work appreciatively.

"Wow! I used more C4 than I thought!"


My masked captor said that if he wasn't going to get paid... he'd either have to let me go or kill me himself.

Said he'd run out of bullets, so he'd let me go.

I didn't mention the fact that he still had those katanas strapped to his back and could have used those.


It wasn't until I was on a bus headed for who knows where, that I realized I'd never gotten the merc's name.


I know he's been following me since Minneapolis.

Not sure why. I hope he's not trying to collect on my bounty again. That would suck.


I haven't heard a peep from Kakistos for the past 2 weeks as I hitchhiked all the way to the California border. I wonder if the mercenary had anything to do with it.


Buffy is nice. All sugar and sweet.

I kind of hate her.


"Well, when I'm fighting, it's like the whole world goes away and I only know one thing: that I'm gonna win and they're gonna lose. I like that feelin'."

B rolls her eyes, stabbing at her food with her fork absently, "Well, sure. Beats that dead feeling you get when they win and you lose."

What a buzz-kill.

"I don't let that kind of negative thinking in, B."


I should really stop trying to have friends. They either die, try to kill me, or both. I hope Gwendolyn Post is rotting in Hell.

"I'm on your side." Buffy pleads at me.

"I'm on my side and that's enough." I glower and rub my bruised cheek where she'd hit me.

I wish I could keep friends. But if wishes were knives I'd be cut bloody... or however that saying went.


Hate Christmas. Only serves to remind me of the family I don't have. Like Valentine's Day reminds older single ladies that their biological clocks are ticking.

Buffy's mom makes her ask if I want to come over. In the end, I wind up baby sitting Joyce and little D, while B plays hero and stops her brooding beau from offing himself.

I could have sworn I'd seen a blur of black and red outside the window while I sat and played cards with Joyce.

Then it starts snowing. Wicked.


"Just relax... and take your pants off."

God, I'm wound up.

"Those two concepts are antithetical." Xander is so adorable when he's nervous. I was going to enjoy this.

"Don't worry. I'll steer you around the curves."

Hmm... that was satisfying. I toss him his shirt and then him out the door.

"That was great. I gotta shower."

I slam the door shut in his face.


I killed a man.

And no, I don't want to talk about it.


"But you're not a god. You're not much more than a child. Going down this path will ruin you. You can't imagine the price for true evil."

"Yeah? I hope evil takes MasterCard."

Angel tries to get through to me. It might have worked too. But shit happened (namely Wesley and the Watcher's Council) and I got lost.


The Mayor is sweet on me. But not in a sexual way.

"Now, Faith, I don't find that sort of thing amusing. I'm a family man. Now, let's kill your little friend."


"Do you think you're better than me? Do you? Say it, you think you're better than me!" I yell at her.

"I am. Always have been." B says matter of factly from her spot chained to the wall.

I agree with her, but to hear her say it with such conviction... well, it... it hurt. Sure I was betraying her and her friends. And stealing her boyfriend. But... to hear her voice what my heart had already been telling me....

I fucking hated her.


"That's mine!" I eye the knife in Buffy's hand.

"You're about to get it back."

I know she's going to beat me. Part of me wants her to. I need to be punished.

"Man, I'm going to miss this." I sigh wistfully.

Buffy plunges my knife into my gut.

"You did it. You killed me."

Dying doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

I fall onto the moving truck and black out.


There's a woman in a black flowing gown watching me. I can't see her face. She reaches out to me with a bony finger. Correction. Bone finger.

She doesn't speak, but I know. I know who this is. What's coming.

Only it doesn't come. She let's me go.

It's not my time yet. But there's something there.


But was it mine or hers?


Everything's changed. But everything's the same. B's still a bitch. Slept with her boyfriend, though. Maybe that will shut her up.


I think something may be broken inside me. I'm... angrier than I was before my coma. I start a fight in a dance club just because I can. Just to prove that no one can touch me.

No one but Buffy, of course. But best not to think about her.



'Nuff said.


I really wish Angel would have killed me. I'm pretty sure these prison rations are poisoning me to death anyway.


There's a man who's come to visit me. I don't recognize him. He looks like a gangbanger. He has scruffy brown hair and a bandanna around his head.

I sit down at the provided chair and pick up the phone. The man on the other side of the glass grins and puts on an atrocious Pakistani accent.

"'ello? This is Kerpal, you kick my dog!"

I just stare at the man blankly, "What?"

"You kick my dog!"


I still didn't know his name. And I don't know his real face, either. I know he's scarred, from when I saw him the first time we met, but that's about it.

He has something that changes the way he looks. I'm not sure what. Magic. A machine. Something.

"You want me to spring you, firecracker?"

He grins at me. This time he looks like Colonel Sanders.

"If I wanted out, Kentucky Fried, I wouldn't have turned myself in in the first place. And don't call me, firecracker."


Now he looks like a blond beach bum, "So you've killed two people, huh? What's that like, Shirley?"

I sighed. Why did he keep coming here?

"Like you don't know."

"No, honestly I don't! I mean, only two people? Pff! I can't even remember that far back..."


"So, have you learned how to fight yet, Tattoo?"

This time he looks the spitting image of Ricardo Montalban.

"Well this chick Sully.... she tried to make me her bitch the other day. So, I introduced her head to a brick wall. It's gonna take a whole lot of dental to clean up that mess she calls a mouth."

He responds in his best Montalban, "Beating up normal girls hardly means you know who to fight, mi amor."

"Oh, I'm using the term 'chick' sparingly here. I mean, She-Hulk has nothing on this bitch. Could probably crush someone between those steel girders she calls thighs."


"You really don't want me to spring you? I mean I got a bit of time opened up in my schedule this week. I'm sure I could squeeze in a jail break before my next assassination."

"No thanks."


"So are you going to tell me you're name? This is like the tenth time you've come to see me. It's getting uber-tedious thinking of you as 'that guy who almost got me killed'."

He gave a laborious sigh and a hand went to his head.

"Alright... I shall tell you. My name is Steve Rogers," he grinned and stuck out his chest proudly, "but good citizen-- er well, bad citizen-- you may know me as... Captain America!"

And people thought I was crazy.


"Why do you keep coming to see me?" I eyed him suspiciously, "I don't even know who you are. And the first time we met you were going to let someone kill me because they were going to pay you. That was until, ya know... they refused to pay you, so you blew them up..."

I wondered absently why the guards hadn't tried to arrest this man yet. He did look like a different person every time... but they always wound up talking about his profession.

Maybe he was doing something to the phone lines...

"What! So, I like money! And blowing people up! I especially like it when I get money in order to blow people up! And talk about gratitude! I mean I did let you go, didn't I? Even when I should have just killed you to cover my tracks. And now I come and visit you out of the kindness of my itty bitty heart and this is the thanks I get?"

I gave him a thin smile.

"Riiight. Please, forgive me. Thank you so much for randomly visiting me in prison and for not killing me."

"There that wasn't so hard, was it?" he grinned brightly at me. "And you're welcome."


Someone is here to visit me.

My lawyer?

I half expect to see my mystery man waiting for me looking like Matlock. But it's Wesley. I'm not sure if I'm dissapointed or not. I'd sort of started to look forward to his strange visits.


Angelus is back.

'Nuff said.


I'm back in Sunnydale.

Everything's different. But everything's the same.

Only now B's found herself another vampire with a soul to screw, instead of that college beef-stick.

And apparently Spike is NOTHING like Angel. Yeah, right.


Went for a solo-patrol to escape the Hormone Brigade for a few hours.

Someone's following me. Not a demon. I can tell that much.

I pick up a rock absently, and then quickly chuck it at the figure in the tree several feet from me.

"OW!" A familiar voice shouts in surprise.


"You went and sprung yourself out of jail!" he shouted at me, "How could you!?! I had this whole elaborate plan laid out where I was going to tie a rope to the bars of your cell window and get Outlaw to lasso Rhino to rip them off..."

"My cell didn't have a window."

"Well, I didn't say it was a great plan."


"So, are you going to tell me your name?"

He's following me on my patrol.

"I dunno. It's been so long.... I mean were already at #52 now, so I feel like I shouldn't. Might ruin my mystique."


"Could I at least know what you look like? All I've ever seen is the mask and those ridiculous faces from your image inducer...."

He looks uncomfortable, "Sorry, firecracker. You don't want to see that."

"Don't call me firecracker."

"Then don't ask me about what's beneath my mask."


"So, how old are you now, 20?"

"Just turned 23. Why? You fixin' to get your rocks off before I assume room temperature?"

That certainly seemed to be the way it was heading. Ending with me and a whole lot of people dead. This fight with the First deal seemed like a straight-up suicide mission.

He was silent and didn't answer me, and just kept walking in silence. It was one of the few times that I could remember that he hadn't talked my ear off.


"So, do you like this Robin guy?" I could practically see the look of disgust through his mask.

"Why? You jealous?" I grinned at him knowingly.

I knew he felt something for me, why the Hell else would a guy stalk a girl for going on... what? Six years?

He sniffed, "No! Why would I be? But... guh, come on! He's a high school principal!"

I laughed, "Yeah, but that just gives me loads to work with for the role-play, ya know? He's the principal, I'm the 'bad-girl' in detention. Ow!" I smacked my ass, suggestively.

"Well, what about the mercenary who captures the damsel in distress and threatens to kill her?"

"Yeah... threatening to kill someone? Not as much of a turn on as the Twilight books would lead you to believe."


Mystery Man is unusually silent today on patrol. He glances at me warily.

"So, what's with the black eye? Did that principal give it to you?" His voice took a surprisingly darker tone than I was used to hearing from him.

I scoffed and touched the bruise absently, "Wood couldn't hurt me if he tried. It was B."

"Bea Arthur?" He looks at me questioningly, then looks wistful like he's imagining me fighting Maude...

"Buffy Summers." I clarified, "Self-righteous bitch. Thinks she knows everything. Always has to be in charge."

"Yup. That certainly sounds like a Summers to me."


"Why are you doing this? Can't Buffy and her Scooby friends fight this thing on their own? I mean... you could... you could get killed. Not that I care or anything."

No jokes today, apparently.

"Jesus, I hang out with you for the laughs. But right now you're really bringing a girl down." I ran a nervous hand through my hair.

"I'm serious."

"I know. And I wish you would stop. It's freaking me out."


I tried to lead the Minis... and all I got out of it was some girls killed and a wicked bad headache from the exploding bomb.


I'm resting in Buffy's room from my injuries. It's not too bad. More a damaged ego than anything else.

He slipped in through the window. He's silent for a long time just looking at me.

"What happened?" His voice sounded strained and he took a few tentative steps to my bed side. Before I knew it, he had a gloved hand outstretched inspecting the cuts on my face, tracing them with a tenderness I hadn't known the mercenary was capable of.

"Tried to play leader. Not so good at it, I guess." I flinched when his fingers prodded a particularly sensitive gash, "Should stick to lovable sidekick."

"You could never be anyone's sidekick." he scoffed at the suggestion, then absently scratched at the material of his mask, "Unless, ya know, you wanted to be mine... "

His hand had traveled lower to the nape of my bare neck. I swatted it away.

He ignored the gesture, "And you're certainly lovable..."

"Keep it in your pants. I don't screw guys whose names I don't even know. Uh... well okay that's a lie. But whatever, stop it."

I had at least seen their faces first.

And he was an admitted killer to boot. What was I doing, associating with this man? It was like a recovering alcoholic hanging out with Colin Ferrell.



My eyes widen at his use of my name. It was the first time he'd ever used it, instead of some cutesy little nickname. It had me worried.

"What's the what, home-slice?"

That was odd, I wasn't usually the one of the two of us trying to lighten the mood. My whole impending doom must have really been bothering him.

"My name... it's Wade... Wade Wilson."


It's getting into the home stretch. The plan's all set. The players in place.

And Wood keeps trying to get his 'wood' into my 'patch of forest', if you catch my drift.

I can't shake the feeling that Wade's watching and that stops me for some reason, even though I'm horny as hell.

And I...

I don't know.


It's the night before the big day.

He finds me. We don't talk about anything particularly meaningful, but its a welcome distraction. Mostly we talk about the Golden Girls. He goes on about Bea Arthur. I tell him that I'm more a fan of Betty White. I think he considered having a throw down over it.

I think I might be in love with this man. That idea was admittedly... crazy. I didn't even really know him. And he was more unstable than I was.

I might die tomorrow and that's the thought that sticks with me.

He's still ranting about Bea Arthur when I kiss him through his mask. He stops talking after that.

His scarring wasn't so bad. I could look past it.




"Try not to die."

"I try not to let that sort of negative thinking in, Wade."

"...If you do... die and there's this woman there waiting for you, dressed in all black? She's good people... she'll look after you. I promise."


I think I can feel him watching me from afar as I enter the High School with the others.

I wonder why he didn't offer to help. To help me.

Maybe it was all an act. But then why follow me around all this time?

Men always seemed in it for the chase, but six years was an awfully long time to chase someone just to get into their pants.


Andrew continued to regale the Scoobies with the tale of the man that saved Anya and his lives.

"It was so cool! There was this guy dressed in black and red! Came out of nowhere and killed all the Turok-Han and Bringers that came our way! He was like... so much cooler than Batman! Well, okay... maybe not that cool, but certainly cooler than the Green Lantern! And then he just disappeared!"

Anya decided to butt in.

"He was singing 'Whistle While You Work' while flinging the Bringers intestines around in the air," she grimaced, "I hate that song. Creepy dwarfs and their menial labor."

Xander asks why I'm grinning like an idiot. I just shrug and walked back to the bus.


The End

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