A New Perspective Pt. 06

Holy crap, we're up to part six on this story! As I've said before, I had no idea that such a simple idea I had one afternoon would explode into such a massive story! Creating this path for Faith to take has been a huge undertaking for me. These people, even if they're just on paper, have become real to me, and I'm loving it! So on that note, let's jump on into it! This chapter will probably be another filler chapter, with little action in it. As always, constructive criticism is always welcomed!!

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"So tell me again how you managed to light Cassandras chair on fire?" Bella said with a smirk as we got ready for bed. It had been a long day full of learning, and some of the spells that I had tried to learn went a little...well, let's say cattywompus. Bella and I were discussing what had happened, and by discussing I mean her ambushing me as soon as I got out of the shower.

"I told you I don't know!" I hissed, pushing my still wet hair back from my face. "She was trying to show me how to light a row of candles, and I followed her instructions to a T! I guess my aim was off somehow?"

Bella grinned as she got into bed. "Well, you didn't burn the whole coven down or anything, so that's a plus. Was she pissed at all?"

"Pissed is an understatement." I said as I wrung my hair dry. "I'm surprised she didn't use another spell to turn me into a dog or something. She was spitting mad. But on the plus side, I found out that fire is my affinity!"

"That's good, Faith! See? Each day is a new learning opportunity!"

"Yeah I guess."

Tossing my towel into the laundry basket, I crawled into bed, curling up to Bella.

"I do know one thing." I said, "Learning all of this stuff has been way harder than I thought."

"Magic isn't a clear cut thing, Faith. It's a give and take process. But you've been doing good! I'm proud of you!"

I wiggled happily as I snuggled into her. I'd been dead ass tired all day, and sleep was catching up to me quickly. I think Bella sensed that I was about to crash because she wrapped her arms around me and kissed my head.

"Sleep well baby girl." She murmured.

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The feeling of a hot sun on my face woke me with a start. Sitting up quickly, I used one hand to shield my eyes as I tried to get the world in focus.

"Why in the fuck is it so hot?!" I muttered, my bearings slowly coming to me in bits and pieces. I could feel hot wind blowing over my body, which was weird because my room was normally air conditioned. The entire situation made absolutely no sense in my half awake state.

But as I became more coherent, I could see I wasn't in my room at all. Hell, I don't even think I was in the city anymore.

A vast desert stretched out in front of me, the golden sands reflecting the harsh light of the high noon sun. It was extremely hot out, and I could see heat waves rising off the ground like weird waves of water.

Getting slowly to my feet, I took inventory of myself. I wasn't even in my own clothes! Instead, old western garb adorned my body. Blue jeans over hard cowboy boots, leather chaps that went from my hips down, and a flannel shirt tucked into the jeans. A weight on my right hip brought my attention to the .357 revolver that was tucked into an old leather holster. On the ground next to my right boot was an old cowboy hat, which I assumed was mine.

Bending down, I picked up the old hat and dusted it off before placing it on my head. It wasn't much, but at least it shielded my eyes from the worst of the sun.

"Ok, Faith." I whispered to myself. "Keep it together. You woke up in a desert. That's not too bad, right? I mean, worse things have happened."

Taking a deep breath, I scanned the area around me, looking for any signs of civilization. To my surprise, an old style saloon sat not 50 yards from where I was. I didn't see any vehicles parked around it, or blacktop for that matter. And it was deathly quiet, except for the sound of an old honkytonk piano being played.

Walking slowly towards the building, I left my hand resting lightly on my gun. I don't know how or why I even had a gun, but my dad had taken me to countless shooting ranges throughout my life, so I at least knew that I had a chance of defending myself if something went wrong. God knows I had no other way of doing so.

Reaching the doors, I took a deep breath before pushing through them. They were the old style half doors that swung noisily on their hinges. Stepping into the saloon, it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I was surprised to see that the entire place was empty. Old beer mugs and shot glasses littered the tables, but other than that, there wasn't a soul in sight.

"This is getting weirder and weirder by the minute." I muttered, pulling a stool out from the bar and sitting down. I felt something in my pocket as I settled, and I was surprised to find my phone on me! My elation was short lived, however, when I saw that I didn't have any signal at all. Well that fucking blows. No phone signal, woke up in the middle of the desert looking like some wet dream version of a gunslinger, and I had no idea where the fuck I was.

This day was going so well already.

The sound of footsteps coming out from the back caught my attention, and my hand went back to my gun as a man stepped out through the doors to what I assumed was the kitchen. A heavy cowboy had covered his face so I couldn't see the features, but he had on clothing very similar to mine.

Stepping to the bar, he spoke in a voice that sounded like gravel at the bottom of a massive barrel.

"What can I get ya, darlin'?" He said softly, wiping the bar top with an old rag.

"Uh..." I cleared my throat and realized I was really thirsty. "Whiskey, please. Fireball, if you have it."

"We ain't got nothing like fireball here, lil missy." He said, chuckling. "Never even heard of such. But we got regular ol' whiskey coming right up."

Reaching under the counter, he pulled out an old looking bottle full of gold colored liquid. Setting it down on the bar, he also pulled out a massive shot glass, filling it to the top with said liquid.

Pushing it to me, he said "You ain't from around here, are you ma'am"?

"You could say that." I responded, taking a sip of the whiskey. It burned like the fires of hell going down, but it did the job of wetting my throat. "Can I ask where here is anyway?"

"Well, if you ain't heard of it, then you probably wouldn't recognize the name if I told you." He said with another chuckle. "And I'm surprised you haven't recognized me yet, either. But I guess the clothes are good disguise, huh?"

I paused with the shot glass halfway to my lips. Recognize him? What the hell was he talk-

My thoughts was cut short as he lifted his head, and my heart stopped as I realized who it was.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" I yelled, stumbling back off of the barstool and pulling my gun. My shot glass tumbled to the floor, the alcohol spilling out onto the old wood. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Brent just laughed at me, a sound that seemed to almost pierce my brain.

"I had you going there for a minute, Faith!" He said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, that was fucking good. Had you fooled, didn't I?"

Taking a deep breath, I leveled the .357 at his head, my hand rock steady. "I'm going to ask you one more time, Brent." I said, my voice harsh. "What in the fuck are you doing here?"

He just lifted his hands in surrender, that stupid grin still on his face. "I'm unarmed, Faith." He said, wagging a finger at me. "You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man, would you?"

He let out a yelp as a bullet buried itself into the wall behind him. The loud report of the massive gun was magnificent. Without missing a beat, I pulled the hammer back, rotating the cylinder to a new round.

"Oh, I don't think I'd lose any sleep over it, if I'm to be honest." I said quietly, my hand never wavering as I held the sights on his head. "And trust me, this next round wont miss. So start talking."

"Are you fucking crazy?!" He shouted, his hands sky high now. "That could have fucking killed me! What are you doing shooting at me anyway?!"

"I'm showing you that this isn't going to be a repeat of last time, Brent." I said coldly. "What you did last time was beyond fucked up. I still have nightmares from it. So why don't you keep your hands where I can see them before I paint that wall behind you with your lovely brain matter?"

Eyeing me suspiciously, he dropped his hands down. Picking up the bottle that he poured the shot from earlier, he took a big pull from it before slamming it back down. "I live here, Faith." He snapped, wiping his lips. "It's my mind, and I'm trapped in it like a fucking animal in a cage while you get to be out there, playing slut and dressing up all girly."

"It may be your mind, but I'm the landlord at this moment." I replied, grinding my teeth. "And that also means that none of this is real, does it?"

"No, it's not." Brent confirmed. "But that doesn't make it any less dangerous. I brought you here for a reason, Faith."

"Make one step toward me and I'll paint the wall with your brains, Brent." I repeated when he took another step towards me. "You remember how well dad taught us to shoot, don't you? We could put a .45 slug in a two inch circle 200 yards downrange. I'm not fucking around with you, and this isn't some joke!"

He put his hands up again, only this time is was half hearted. "I just want to talk, Faith. I ain't gonna do anything to ya."

"Oh yeah?" I shot back. "And how can I know you're telling the truth?"

Saying nothing, he jerked his head up to the left. Not trusting him, I slowly moved to my own left, keeping his head in the sights of my revolver the whole time. Once I got to a position that I felt comfortable in, I glanced up to where he was motioning.

Sitting at a table on the top floor of the bar was the older woman from my other dream! She was sipping from a glass of something as she watched us, and I saw a smile creep over her face.

"Hello, my child." She said, setting her glass down. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to notice me. Nice shot, by the way. I hope that weapon is to your liking for defense."

Getting up, she softly made her way down the stairs towards the both of us. I noticed that Brents fists were clenched now, and I could see his body vibrating with anger.

"You're lucky I didn't kill you on sight." He growled at the woman. "Especially after that fucked up stunt you pulled last time. That fucking hurt!!"

She merely smiled sweetly at him, taking a seat at a nearby table.

"That's what happens when you try to harm either Faith or myself, dear. Which means it may not be in your best interest to try something like that again."

Brent said nothing, continuing to stare daggers at her. She turned her attention to me.

"You can put that down, my dear." She said, motioning to my gun. "I can assure you that he will not try anything. As he said, he merely wants to talk. As do I."

Still suspicious of Brent, I lowered the weapon but kept it to my side. Walking over, I took a seat at the table next to the woman. Brent stayed standing at the bar, although his demeanor had relaxed a bit.

"So." I said, setting the gun on the table in front of me. "Another dream. Is this one of those life lesson things that Cass talked about?"

"I don't know, is it?" The old woman replied. Scowling, I drummed my fingers on the table.

"Don't patronize me." I snapped. "I don't want to be drug into another dream world with that asshole just so you can try and lecture me."

"And don't you raise your voice at me, young Faith." She said, her voice an icy quiet to my raging heat. "I am older than you can ever fathom, and I will not take being disrespected lightly. Especially by some new witch who's barely out of her mothers womb in terms of learning the ways of the coven."

Silence hung in the air after her chilled response, and I could feel my face going red as I realized she was right.

"Alright." I said finally, my voice a bit calmer. "Brent, you said you wanted to talk? So talk. I'm listening."

Scoffing, he shook his head as he picked up the bottle of whiskey.

"You're calling me Brent now, as if I'm some sort of stranger."

"You are and you aren't." I said, catching the bottle he tossed over. "I feel like I don't even know you anymore. That...part of me, who I used to be? It's something I'm ashamed of. It's something I want to change. We were angry, Brent. We did some really messed up stuff in our life, and I don't want to be that person anymore."

"And why don't I get a say in this?!" He shouted, slamming his fist onto the bar top. The loud sound made me jump, but I managed to keep my composure. "Why in the fuck do you get to make all the decisions around here, huh? Because you got turned into some pretty girl and now you get to dictate how our life goes!?"

I shook my head. "Because it is my life, Brent. You're just a part of the old me that refuses to die. I think that's the point of these dreams. It's so the two parts of us can face each other."

"It's more than that, my child." The old woman spoke up. "The both of you are two halves to a whole. You not only have to face each other, you have to get to the point where you can accept each other."

"I'm not accepting her!" Brent snapped, pointing at me. "That's not even me anymore. That's some bitch who enjoys spreading her legs and taking it like a sissy."

"And why is that such a bad thing?" I snapped back, shoving to my feet. "Why are you so against any form of submission or displays of 'weakness'? Seriously, Brent! You make it sound as if I'm the worse person in the world for actually enjoying sex in a fulfilling way now! I mean, there is so much more to life than making all the money, getting all the girls, and making sure you're status is at the top!"

"And why didn't dad teach us this?" He said, his voice quiet now. "Why was he always bringing girls home? Didn't we just want to be like him in the end? He was always bringing home women, making all the money. Was it so wrong of us, of me, to want to live up to that?"

His words brought me back to the conversation that I had with my dad the first night of my change. They were an almost exact copy of what I had asked him, and I could feel a sliver of sympathy surface.

"Brent." I said, my voice softening. "Dad did one thing that you and I never did: He treated all of those women with respect. He made sure that they knew that one key point. You and I never, ever did that!"

Turning his head, Brent crossed his arms and stared at the wall. "Oh yeah?" He muttered. "And how would you know what he did?"

"Because I actually asked him, you thick headed twit." I said, losing my patience. "Is it so fucking hard for you to understand that you have to respect everyone? Or are you such a scared little boy that you have to be an absolute ass in order to either scare people into submission, or make them avoid you altogether?"

His face turned slowly back towards me, his eyes lethal slits. "You want to fucking run that by me again, cupcake?"

"I asked if you were a scared little boy." I said, my chin jutting out. "I know you heard me just fine. Tell me, Brent. Are you secretly gay? I've caught myself looking more and more at guys, you know. Admiring their muscles, their bodies. I can even describe some of the fantasies I've had, if you like."

I knew I was pushing my luck, but I'll be damned if this moron got the upper hand on me again. I was done with his denial and anger at the world, and I wanted nothing more than for him to be gone out of my mind.

But I knew I had pushed my luck too far when his face turned red with rage, and he began to walk towards me. "I'm going to fuck you up, you stupid litt-"

"Ok, that's enough for now." The old woman said, putting her hand on my head, I felt my world spin, and the saloon faded away into darkness before I woke with a gasp in my own bed. Sitting up, I patted my hands over my body, relieved in some weird way that I was still me. Or...I mean...still Faith.

Glancing over, I saw that Bella was sound asleep next to me, snoring in soft, somehow lady like snores.

I rubbed my hands over my face. Ok. Another dream. That was fucking weird. I guess I should be happy that whoever that woman was ended it before Brent could try something. Although I think I may have gotten some pleasure in shooting him, even if it would have been somehow bad. I just wanted that fucker out of my head!!

But still, I couldn't fathom why it was so hard for him to understand the reasoning behind all of this. Was he the part of me that was in deep denial about everything, like a stubborn child plugging their ears so they can't hear their parents?

I don't know. The entire situation was still weird to me, even if it had been a while.

It had been a few weeks since the funeral, and my mind had been fairly quiet. I had slipped into the routine of learning witch hood. Energy channeling, chakras, spells and charms. I was learning it all. It had been a trip so far, and a big part of me was still struggling on even believing any of it.

My dysphoria had flared up more than a few times, and there were a couple days that I couldn't do anything other than sitting in my room, wearing over sized clothing so that I couldn't see my curvy body. Bella had been by my side the entire time, and she sympathized with me because she had experienced the same dysphoria before she changed.

But other than that, it had been fairly quiet. It just added to my confusion on why I would have a dream like this one tonight.

Letting out a sigh, I threw the covers to the side. Maybe I can talk to...someone. I don't know. How do you talk to someone about a dream you had? Especially one where you faced your old male self who just seemed to be pissed at everything?

But then Taras words came back to me. "If you ever need anyone to talk to when your nightmares get too much, come find me in room 101."

So five minutes later, I found in front of room 101. My nerves seemed to be shot, and for some reason I couldn't even bring myself to knock. I know she had said if I needed to talk, she was there for me, but what if I woke her up or something?

Right as I took a step back to go back to my room, Tara opened the door with a big smile.

"Faith! Oh, it's so good to see you, girl!" She said, giving me a big hug. She smelled of vanilla body wash and lavender, and her hair was wet from what I assumed was a shower. She was wearing a simple tank top and panties.

"Come on in!" She said, pulling me in. "I was just about to make lunch!"

"Uh...lunch?" I asked, looking at the time. The clock on her wall read 2:30AM.

She grinned at me as she made her way into a kitchen. Her room was actually a small apartment, outfitted with a living room, a kitchen, and a bedroom. It was small but extremely cozy.

"I'm a night owl." She explained as she pulled some pots out. "Have been ever since the night that..." She trailed off and looked at me apologetically.

I dropped my eyes in shame. I knew which night she was referencing, and I still felt like absolute shit about it.

"I'm sorry." She said softly, leaning on the counter. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories for you."

"It's not you who should be apologizing, Tara." I said, lifting my gaze to meet hers. "It's me. Even if it makes me feel bad, those are feelings I need to face head on, instead of pretending they're not there."

"I suppose you're right." Tara responded, resuming her work in the kitchen. "But ever since then, I haven't been able to sleep at night. During the day? Oh gods, I sleep like a rock! So I just adjusted my schedule to nighttime, and voila! It worked out.