Shattered Like Glass Rain
Crossover: BtVS/Blade Trinity
Pairing: Faith (Zoe Sommerfield)/Hannibal King
Summary: Faith’s PoV. Faith is in New York and is forced to face a past she has tried long and hard to forget.
Spoilers: Through Season 1
Warnings: Brief mentions of teen sex and pregnancy. The sex in this story is between a man and an underage girl, but is not described in detail. Still if this offends you I highly suggest you do not read any further.
Author’s Note: This may be out of character for Faith, but I had to get it out of my head. It wasn’t going away.I saw Blade: Trinity and couldn’t help but think of Zoe and Faith. I’m not sure of Zoe’s age in the movie so I used ages that suited my purposes. If its not right, I’m sorry, but they’re the ages I needed her to be. The same goes for the age of Hannibal King.
I had another name once, a whole name, first and last. I had a mother, a family, and then, one night, they died. Buffy talks about meeting Dracula, jokes about Xander eating bugs, but she doesn’t know the truth. The vamp she met was just a cheap imitation of the real thing. I was ten when Drake…Dracula…Daygon…whatever you wanted to call him, killed my mom, ten when Abigail Whistler and Hannibal King became the only family I had. Abby was and had always been the sister I always wanted. I tried to look at King like a brother but it was impossible. I had a crush on him. Abby thought it was cute. Hero worship, they called it. Only it never went away. It grew and expanded and turned into love. From the second I entered that torture chamber, Drake’s hand on my shoulder, and saw that he’d put my life above everything and everyone, my heart was his. I knew though, despite my feelings for him, that he’d never look at anyone the way he did at Abby. She was the same way about him. Even through their sarcasm and the tough exteriors they presented to the world, they loved each other. It didn’t last. Nothing good ever does. I was fifteen when my world shattered once more, glass rain falling all around me. Abby died.
I lost my innocence the night she lost her life. I should have known better than to try and comfort him, should have known better than to touch him, kiss him, the way I did. He was grieving and missing her. He wanted her and I was only a vessel, a tool to be used for the physical release of his grief, if only for a few moments. It never should have happened, for a lot of reasons. He was twenty-seven. I was fifteen. He was drunk. It was my first time. It was rough and hurried. There were no loving touches or whispered words of love. There was only pain, then blessed numbness. I didn’t come and tried not to cry when he did, Abby’s name slipping from his lips as he spilled himself deep inside me before passing out, exhaustion overtaking him. I left the next morning while he was still asleep. I took the emergency money Abby had forced me to save from my hiding spot in the vent. It got me to Boston and afforded me a cheap motel room and a little food. It wouldn’t last forever though and I was running out quick when Linda, my first watcher found me, two months after Abby’s death, three days after I was called. She took care of me and forced me to take care of myself. When my stomach started to curve outward, rounding lightly, I knew for sure what I’d been dreading when my period didn’t come. I was pregnant. I tried to hide it, thought about getting rid of it, but in the end couldn’t follow through with it. I told Linda and she promised to help me raise it.
I was five months along when Kakistos came and ripped my new life away from me. He killed Linda and one well placed kick took my baby’s life as well. The only reason I survived was the arrival of the police, thanks to a phone call from a concerned neighbor who heard the screaming. Losing the baby, a little girl I named Morgan, severed my last link to my old life. Linda’s death cut the only link to the new life I had made. So I did the only thing I could. I changed my name, buried my past deep inside, and headed West, toward the other slayer, toward Buffy, trying to forget the whole time that I spent my whole life in love with one man and it had brought me nothing but pain.
I worked my way through men, determined to forget his face and the way he felt inside me, despite the pain that it had caused me at the time. Young, old, short, tall, blonde, brunette…it didn’t matter to me as long as their kisses burned my flesh and they fucked me until his face disappeared from behind my eyes for a few, pleasure filled moments. I thought fucking them would make the memories go away, would bury them deeper, but it never did. I always woke up with his name spilling from my lips. I still do. It’s why Robin couldn’t stay. There’s only so long a guy can take his girl waking up each morning, another guy’s name on her lips.
It’s been eight years since I’ve seen him, since Abby died. I’m twenty-three now, and my world has changed, fallen apart and been rebuilt several times. I’m a different person. I’ve committed acts he would never believe I was capable of. I’m part of a family again, part of a team. And even though I won’t tell them about my past unless I have to, I’ve earned their trust, found sisters among my fellow slayers. I’d forgotten how that felt, so of course, when everything is finally good, the past has to rear it’s ugly head and remind me of the things I’ve tried to forget, of who I really am.
When Giles sends Buffy, Willow, and I to New York for a girls week, I’m certain that I won’ t see him. It’s a huge city, with millions of people, and he probably doesn’t hunt anymore. Then, they cross our path. It’s our second night in the city. Buffy and I are restless and decide to do a little recreational slaying. They see us fighting and think they’re saving us when they jump into the fray. He’s not with them, but I know who they are just by the weapons they have. Nobody but Nightstalkers are that well armed. They disappear just as quickly as they appear when it’s obvious that we know what we’re doing, but we see them two more times before the week is up. He’s never with them, something I’m thankful for, yet at the same time, dread seeing, because it means he’s probably dead.
I thought I was home free, that I wouldn’t have to face my past. Then, tonight, our last night in the city, B suggests going to a rave she heard about from some guy she met two days ago. I should have said no, shouldn’t have ignored the feeling in my gut telling me that something important was going to happen.
We’re only there an hour when I spot them moving among the crowd. They’re hunting. When the fight breaks out, Buffy, Willow, and I are in the thick of it. The battle only lasts a few minutes, no more than ten, but I spot him among the throng and my heart nearly stops. He’s really here, leading them, fighting just like I remember, blithe, sarcastic, barbs flowing like honey from his lips. He’s older now, crows feet barely visible at the corners of his eyes. They are the only indication that he is over thirty. His body is still cut, still lean and muscular. We’re still twelve years apart in age, his thirty-five to my twenty-three.
Suddenly the fight is over and I’m left facing him for the first time in eight years…and he doesn’t recognize me. I’m not surprised despite the brief flash of hurt that courses through me. It’s been a long time and Zoe Sommerfield died the same night Abby did. I can feel Buffy and Willow’s curious stares. I have to tear my gaze away from him before they become suspicious. I decide to preempt the questions I can see forming in their minds.
“They’re Nightstalkers,” I say, trying to draw attention back to the group of people standing defensively in front of us. The other ravers cleared out at the first gunshot and we’re all that’s left in the warehouse.
Both of them are staring at me, mouths’ ajar. I can see hints of anger over the fact that I knew who the well equiped hunters were and never spoke up. I start to tell them more, hoping to satisfy their curiousity without revealing too much, and make amends at the same time. I make sure to give them a version of the story I know they’ll believe.
“I’ve been around the block more than once. Slept with more than one Nightstalker along the way. Never one as infamous as Hannibal King though,” I lie, nodding toward him. The lie is bitter and does not easily roll off my tongue. I have to force it out. My eyes lock on his and there is confusion in their depths, like he should know who I am but can’t place me. Desperation surges through me. I need to get out before he actually realizes who I am, but I can’t seem to break his gaze. Then, B says my name, snapping me out of my daze just in time to see recognition flash in his eyes. Abby always said if she had a daughter she’d name her Faith.
He moves to touch me, the name Zoe slipping out, a whisper from his lips, and I try not to flinch. Buffy’s sword is at his throat before he gets too close and Willow’s magic holds back the other Nightstalkers.
“It is you, isn’t it?” He sounds unsure and I cannot remember I time when I heard him sound like that.
“Zoe’s dead. My name’s Faith.” Maybe if I say it enough, he’ll actually believe me. Maybe I’ll believe myself. Maybe I really won’t be Zoe in my heart.
He’s silent, his gaze moving over me slowly and it pisses me off that he can turn me on with just a look. At fifteen it embarassed me. Now it just makes me want to fuck him. Or kill him. I can’t tell which impulse is stronger. I’d probably do both, fuck him, then choke the life out of him for making me this way. I’ve only ever loved one man, and as much as I want to touch him, fuck him, I also can’t stand the sight of him. A quick nod to Buffy gets her to lower her sword and Willow releases her magical hold on the others.
“Forget you saw me. Forget I exist. Zoe Sommerfield died eight years ago. I’m not a Nightstalker anymore. We’re not family anymore, if we ever were.” I glance at Buffy. “Let’s get out of here. I’m done with this.” It takes everything in me to turn and walk away from him. For the first time ever I pray to the Powers that I don’t see him again. I am strong, but not that strong, and if there’s anyone who could break down my defenses it’s Hannibal King.