Fic: Tar Baby 3/4
May. 18th, 2011 09:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: Tar Baby
Series: Lotus in Muddy Water
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Faith, Wesley
Rating: PG
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: None
Summary: Faith starts seeing a vamp who isn't there.
While they'd dawdled over lunch, about a third of Brigit's aunts had come over to chat with Diana, the mother of the man that Brigit had married when she was eighteen. He'd died nearly three years later, shot waiting for a train in New York. A year after his death, as her family had started pushing Brigit to date again, she'd started appreciating her position as Aidan's assistant, which allowed her to maintain a distance from well meaning aunts whose sense of privacy was practically non-existent when it came to family matters.
After clearing away the place settings and tossing out the paper plates, while Anne and her parents headed off to another party – a more formal celebration being held by Diana's cousin – Brigit wandered off to find other company. The problem with family gatherings was that her options didn't stray much outside of family, which shouldn't have been a problem, she loved them all as much as she ever had, but she no longer wanted what they wanted. Annie, her brother's wife, called her over and sat her down next to her on a chair she claimed she'd been saving just for Brigit. Handing her son Bobby over to Brigit, Annie gave her an excuse to ignore the conversation but still be part of the group of young mothers.
“I swear my Olivia notices everything. She had dinner over at a friend's house, that Theresa she knows from school and came back raving about something called puttanesca, which is some Italian dish, pasta with tomatoes, capers, anchovies. I bet I could cook a batch up just based on her description.”
“That actually sounds pretty good. I wouldn't mind try to making it myself. What did you call it?”
“Put-ta-nes-ca.”
“Oh, I've had that. My dad's old girlfriend, Fran, she used to make it for us.”
Thinking of puttanesca reminded Brigit of Manos, who'd first made the dish for her, exclaiming happily that the name, puttanesca, meant “little whore” in Italian. Over the two and a half years that Brigit had worked for Aidan, he'd had a number of guests, experts in occult or martial arts, and Manos, the first to visit after she'd moved in, was one of her favorites. He and Aidan had holed themselves up in the study while Manos' lover, Scott, a quiet man who valued his solitude, had wandered the beach, apparently unaffected by the winter chill. Brigit hadn't been quite sure what to make of them, of the two male lovers that is. Her father came from a huge family, a dozen siblings in all, a line aggressive in the pursuit of children and grandchildren. The few gay scions tended to leave Deepwater, setting up home in some larger city, happy to come back for family visits, holidays such as the 4th or Christmas, but even happier to live out of town.
Toward the end of their visit, Brigit had gone shopping with the two men, directing them to local specialty shops in search of ingredients. Manos had insisted on quality, passing over tomatoes that Brigit would have thought were perfectly acceptable in his pursuit of perfection. It had taken them an entire day to find everything he'd been looking for, and then he'd spent the next two days preparing the meal. Brigit hadn't tasted anything like it before or since, although she had been encouraged to try recipes outside of the range of those she'd grown up with. Some of the better meals she'd made since then had been based on recipes Manos had passed on to her, either during one of his infrequent visits or in one of his more regular letters. It might not be a bad idea to make puttanesca again. She was sure Faith, who had a healthy appetite to begin with but who really scarfed up anything spicy, would like it.
As Bobby started fussing, apparently irritated by her lack of attention while her thoughts had wandered. Brigit started bouncing him on her knee, seemingly focused on him but really wondering what had sent Faith racing off. Running after her would only cause talk though, and besides she had no idea where Faith had gone.
“Brigit, there you are.”
“Dad?” she asked.
Nodding in the direction of Dottie's B&B, which was a couple of miles down the beach, he said, “You need to relieve your mother.”
“Nothing wrong I hope?” Annie asked, expelling a huff of air as she took Bobby from Brigit's lap.
“No, no, Cam's in town, and you know how much Dottie likes her. She wants to bring over some food,” he added, nodding toward the picnic tables, “and catch up.”
Joining her father as he strolled toward the tables, her mind already having put together a list of what food to send back with her mother to Aidan's, Brigit asked, “And?”
The level look that he turned her way gave away nothing. “They're going to do it tonight.”
Her footsteps faltered at that. Rushing to catch up, she asked, “So soon?”
“You know Cam, catch her off her guard.”
Brigit sighed. “If they can find her.”
* * *
Faith stood alone in the center of the room, her opponent visible only to herself. Standing with most of her weight on her right leg with her left leg out before her, Faith reached with her left hand as if grabbing a shirt collar in her fist. Shifting her weight to her left leg, she twisted her torso forward, adding leverage to the slam as her right hand threw down her imaginary opponent.
“No.” While the Sensei didn't shout, her words told Faith she'd gotten it wrong again. “You aren't supposed to be fighting. I want you to feel the chi, to let it move you. Don't force it. Try again.”
With a sigh, Faith shifted to the starting position, standing straight up, knees not quite locked, her arms by her side. Training with Petra had never been so tough. Her Watcher had trained her to fight, not to get all touchy feely with some sort of mystical energy field.
Hearing a noise from the hallway, Faith turned to see Brigit's mother standing at the open door, her hands together in a prayer position as she bowed toward the room. “Dottie,” the Sensei exclaimed, wearing a huge grin, the first smile Faith had seen her give. “It's so good to see you,” she added, crossing the room and gathering the woman in a hug.
Dottie returned the hug, giving Faith the first clue to the Sensei's name by calling her Cam.
“You brought dinner?” Cam asked.
“Food?” Faith asked, suddenly famished.
“Upstairs,” Dottie replied, backing into the hallway to let Faith through.
Faith bolted up the stairs and had downed half a plateful of chicken, burgers, beans, and potato salad by the time she heard Cam's voice call out from Aidan's study. “I know you haven't eaten since breakfast. Come on, break it up and get some food before Faith eats it all.” Looking over at the huge cooler, Faith didn't think that'd be an issue.
“I am feeling rather fatigued,” she heard Wes say.
When Aidan, Wes, and Cam joined her in the kitchen, Faith asked, “Where's Dottie?.”
“She couldn't say,” Cam replied. “Here, this is for you,” she added, tossing something over to Faith.
It was a black, plastic square, small enough to fit in her hand, on a necklace chain. “What is it?” Faith asked.
“For training,” Cam said as she scooped beans onto a plate. “After we've eaten.”
“But we've been training for hours,” Faith complained.
“Hours?” Wes asked. “I thought you were with Brigit. Wait, training?” He looked back and forth between Faith and Cam.
“I've called Cam in to train Faith,” Aidan said.
“What?” Wesley's hands clenched into fists. “I am Faith's Watch...” He glanced over at Cam. “I am responsible for Faith. You do not go over my head and call in some random,” pausing he waved his hands about before adding, “person to train her.”
Great, it's like they are at war, and I'm the battlefield, Faith thought. Watching Wes sputter about some more, she changed her mind. Wes thinks he owns me, that I'm his personal property or some such shit. Watching Aidan calmly respond to Wes' rants, explaining that Cam was a much better fighter than either of them, which Wes obviously didn't believe if the sweeping glance he gave the older woman was any indication, Faith realized that she didn't what Aidan wanted from her. He must have had some reason to take on a Slayer and her annoying idiot of a Watcher.
Wesley turned toward Cam. “Look, I apologize if this took you out of your way, but Faith isn't an ordinary girl. She needs specialized training, training that I've been, um, trained to give her.”
Deciding to butt in before Wes made even more of a fool of himself, Faith called out, “She knows.”
“Faith,” he yelled, “I'm trying to... Knows what?”
“My sister was a Slayer,” Cam said. “Aidan has explained to me what your training would have been.” Nodding toward Faith, she added, “I understand her abilities better than you do.”
Wesley's glance darted between the three of them, Aidan, Cam, and Faith before he suddenly seemed to deflate. Somebody's finally figured out he isn't in charge, Faith thought. Good.
Turning on Cam, Wes accused, “Faith did have very specific plans for the day. You thought you could disrupt them just like that?”
“No,” Cam replied. “I was downstairs training when she showed up. Naturally I wasn't going to let the opportunity to assess her skills slip away.”
As Wes glared at Faith, she remembered why she'd left the picnic. Kakistos, shit. “Hey,” she told Wes, “I don't do that lovey dovey family stuff.” She couldn't believe that she'd forgotten about the demons she'd seen, but maybe that meant it had been a one time thing, nothing to worry about; maybe all she'd needed was a good workout to get rid of the kinks.
Series: Lotus in Muddy Water
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Faith, Wesley
Rating: PG
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: None
Summary: Faith starts seeing a vamp who isn't there.
While they'd dawdled over lunch, about a third of Brigit's aunts had come over to chat with Diana, the mother of the man that Brigit had married when she was eighteen. He'd died nearly three years later, shot waiting for a train in New York. A year after his death, as her family had started pushing Brigit to date again, she'd started appreciating her position as Aidan's assistant, which allowed her to maintain a distance from well meaning aunts whose sense of privacy was practically non-existent when it came to family matters.
After clearing away the place settings and tossing out the paper plates, while Anne and her parents headed off to another party – a more formal celebration being held by Diana's cousin – Brigit wandered off to find other company. The problem with family gatherings was that her options didn't stray much outside of family, which shouldn't have been a problem, she loved them all as much as she ever had, but she no longer wanted what they wanted. Annie, her brother's wife, called her over and sat her down next to her on a chair she claimed she'd been saving just for Brigit. Handing her son Bobby over to Brigit, Annie gave her an excuse to ignore the conversation but still be part of the group of young mothers.
“I swear my Olivia notices everything. She had dinner over at a friend's house, that Theresa she knows from school and came back raving about something called puttanesca, which is some Italian dish, pasta with tomatoes, capers, anchovies. I bet I could cook a batch up just based on her description.”
“That actually sounds pretty good. I wouldn't mind try to making it myself. What did you call it?”
“Put-ta-nes-ca.”
“Oh, I've had that. My dad's old girlfriend, Fran, she used to make it for us.”
Thinking of puttanesca reminded Brigit of Manos, who'd first made the dish for her, exclaiming happily that the name, puttanesca, meant “little whore” in Italian. Over the two and a half years that Brigit had worked for Aidan, he'd had a number of guests, experts in occult or martial arts, and Manos, the first to visit after she'd moved in, was one of her favorites. He and Aidan had holed themselves up in the study while Manos' lover, Scott, a quiet man who valued his solitude, had wandered the beach, apparently unaffected by the winter chill. Brigit hadn't been quite sure what to make of them, of the two male lovers that is. Her father came from a huge family, a dozen siblings in all, a line aggressive in the pursuit of children and grandchildren. The few gay scions tended to leave Deepwater, setting up home in some larger city, happy to come back for family visits, holidays such as the 4th or Christmas, but even happier to live out of town.
Toward the end of their visit, Brigit had gone shopping with the two men, directing them to local specialty shops in search of ingredients. Manos had insisted on quality, passing over tomatoes that Brigit would have thought were perfectly acceptable in his pursuit of perfection. It had taken them an entire day to find everything he'd been looking for, and then he'd spent the next two days preparing the meal. Brigit hadn't tasted anything like it before or since, although she had been encouraged to try recipes outside of the range of those she'd grown up with. Some of the better meals she'd made since then had been based on recipes Manos had passed on to her, either during one of his infrequent visits or in one of his more regular letters. It might not be a bad idea to make puttanesca again. She was sure Faith, who had a healthy appetite to begin with but who really scarfed up anything spicy, would like it.
As Bobby started fussing, apparently irritated by her lack of attention while her thoughts had wandered. Brigit started bouncing him on her knee, seemingly focused on him but really wondering what had sent Faith racing off. Running after her would only cause talk though, and besides she had no idea where Faith had gone.
“Brigit, there you are.”
“Dad?” she asked.
Nodding in the direction of Dottie's B&B, which was a couple of miles down the beach, he said, “You need to relieve your mother.”
“Nothing wrong I hope?” Annie asked, expelling a huff of air as she took Bobby from Brigit's lap.
“No, no, Cam's in town, and you know how much Dottie likes her. She wants to bring over some food,” he added, nodding toward the picnic tables, “and catch up.”
Joining her father as he strolled toward the tables, her mind already having put together a list of what food to send back with her mother to Aidan's, Brigit asked, “And?”
The level look that he turned her way gave away nothing. “They're going to do it tonight.”
Her footsteps faltered at that. Rushing to catch up, she asked, “So soon?”
“You know Cam, catch her off her guard.”
Brigit sighed. “If they can find her.”
* * *
Faith stood alone in the center of the room, her opponent visible only to herself. Standing with most of her weight on her right leg with her left leg out before her, Faith reached with her left hand as if grabbing a shirt collar in her fist. Shifting her weight to her left leg, she twisted her torso forward, adding leverage to the slam as her right hand threw down her imaginary opponent.
“No.” While the Sensei didn't shout, her words told Faith she'd gotten it wrong again. “You aren't supposed to be fighting. I want you to feel the chi, to let it move you. Don't force it. Try again.”
With a sigh, Faith shifted to the starting position, standing straight up, knees not quite locked, her arms by her side. Training with Petra had never been so tough. Her Watcher had trained her to fight, not to get all touchy feely with some sort of mystical energy field.
Hearing a noise from the hallway, Faith turned to see Brigit's mother standing at the open door, her hands together in a prayer position as she bowed toward the room. “Dottie,” the Sensei exclaimed, wearing a huge grin, the first smile Faith had seen her give. “It's so good to see you,” she added, crossing the room and gathering the woman in a hug.
Dottie returned the hug, giving Faith the first clue to the Sensei's name by calling her Cam.
“You brought dinner?” Cam asked.
“Food?” Faith asked, suddenly famished.
“Upstairs,” Dottie replied, backing into the hallway to let Faith through.
Faith bolted up the stairs and had downed half a plateful of chicken, burgers, beans, and potato salad by the time she heard Cam's voice call out from Aidan's study. “I know you haven't eaten since breakfast. Come on, break it up and get some food before Faith eats it all.” Looking over at the huge cooler, Faith didn't think that'd be an issue.
“I am feeling rather fatigued,” she heard Wes say.
When Aidan, Wes, and Cam joined her in the kitchen, Faith asked, “Where's Dottie?.”
“She couldn't say,” Cam replied. “Here, this is for you,” she added, tossing something over to Faith.
It was a black, plastic square, small enough to fit in her hand, on a necklace chain. “What is it?” Faith asked.
“For training,” Cam said as she scooped beans onto a plate. “After we've eaten.”
“But we've been training for hours,” Faith complained.
“Hours?” Wes asked. “I thought you were with Brigit. Wait, training?” He looked back and forth between Faith and Cam.
“I've called Cam in to train Faith,” Aidan said.
“What?” Wesley's hands clenched into fists. “I am Faith's Watch...” He glanced over at Cam. “I am responsible for Faith. You do not go over my head and call in some random,” pausing he waved his hands about before adding, “person to train her.”
Great, it's like they are at war, and I'm the battlefield, Faith thought. Watching Wes sputter about some more, she changed her mind. Wes thinks he owns me, that I'm his personal property or some such shit. Watching Aidan calmly respond to Wes' rants, explaining that Cam was a much better fighter than either of them, which Wes obviously didn't believe if the sweeping glance he gave the older woman was any indication, Faith realized that she didn't what Aidan wanted from her. He must have had some reason to take on a Slayer and her annoying idiot of a Watcher.
Wesley turned toward Cam. “Look, I apologize if this took you out of your way, but Faith isn't an ordinary girl. She needs specialized training, training that I've been, um, trained to give her.”
Deciding to butt in before Wes made even more of a fool of himself, Faith called out, “She knows.”
“Faith,” he yelled, “I'm trying to... Knows what?”
“My sister was a Slayer,” Cam said. “Aidan has explained to me what your training would have been.” Nodding toward Faith, she added, “I understand her abilities better than you do.”
Wesley's glance darted between the three of them, Aidan, Cam, and Faith before he suddenly seemed to deflate. Somebody's finally figured out he isn't in charge, Faith thought. Good.
Turning on Cam, Wes accused, “Faith did have very specific plans for the day. You thought you could disrupt them just like that?”
“No,” Cam replied. “I was downstairs training when she showed up. Naturally I wasn't going to let the opportunity to assess her skills slip away.”
As Wes glared at Faith, she remembered why she'd left the picnic. Kakistos, shit. “Hey,” she told Wes, “I don't do that lovey dovey family stuff.” She couldn't believe that she'd forgotten about the demons she'd seen, but maybe that meant it had been a one time thing, nothing to worry about; maybe all she'd needed was a good workout to get rid of the kinks.
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Date: 2011-05-19 02:04 am (UTC)Wes is certainly working himself into a snit, isn't he, and as for Faith... If you were seeing things you knew couldn't be there, would you share? Faith is a "I'm the only one who has got my back" kind of a girl.