Faith wasn't even sure what she believed, or felt any more. Had they been sleeping together? Did it actually make a difference any more anyway? It still felt like an infidelity. Hell, she'd been doing the Slayer gig long enough to know all the meanings behind blood. All the little implications.
The fact they probably had been fucking as well was just the icing on top of the poisoned cake.
She took the bottle back, knocking more of the vodka back harshly. "I'd say she deserves to go to hell, but fuck, she'd probably like it back there. Home sweet home and all. She deserves to be locked up as smoke in a box. A really small box."
Put down. Put down Sam. Something about that choice of words struck a cord with Faith, something Wes had said a few years back. "You're a rabid dog who should have been put down years ago."
Faith drew in a ragged breath, raking her fingers through her already disheveled hair.
"I don't know what he deserves," her voice turned dull. "I loved him and it was all some fucking lie. What does anyone deserve when they do that?"