Come Back To Me
by cyn#
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the show's creators, I own nothing
but the errors.
Date Written: April 2002
Spoilers: Dunno, I don't watch the show. Take your chances.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to "You Have Thirty Seconds", though I
think both will work as a stand alone pieces, so the reader can choose
which ending they prefer.
Dedications: To Piper and abykitten, who seemed a touch upset at the
ending of "Thirty Seconds" -- a bit more angst, but eventually, there
will be a happy ending...I promise! Heh.
~~~~~
Day 1
~~~~~
"No! Arrrgh, you...you," I scream incoherently at the Zyshari demon, before lashing out with a kick, "Faith _loved_ that shirt on me! You ruined it, you slimy, one-eyed, hairy blob!"
With that, I proceed to rapid-Slay the demon with a flurry of punches and kicks, relishing it a bit too much when it dissolves into a slime puddle. I am soooo mad! Faith said I looked 'wicked hot' in this shirt, said it made me look, 'sexier than a sex kitten, B'.
God, when will I learn not to wear clothes I love on demon-killing hunts?
I'm trying to assess just how badly the Zyshari ripped my top, and if it can be fixed, (yeah, like any of my clothes ruined in patrols are _ever_ fixable), when a vampire steps up and yells, "Die, Slayer!"
Don't they _ever_ have anything new to say?
Before I get a chance to comment on the entire lameness of his vocabulary, and espouse the virtues of an orthodontist, he starts flailing away with his arms in a way that reminds me of Xander back in high school -- sadly, the vampire is even worse.
Still, all that flailing makes it hard to find an opening in which to stake him, so I step back and let the vampire exhaust himself, trying not to giggle. Suddenly it trips in the slime puddle and just falls onto my stake, showering me in dust. Pooof! They should all be that easy.
This gives me a breather, and I use it to glance at my top -- ruined. Arrgh. If I think about it, it'll just make me angrier, so I turn my attention back to warehouse and the fight.
Angel was right...there's a _lot_ of demons here.
When he called from L.A. to tell Giles about Cordelia's vision involving all of us, the Scoobies and his team, in Sunnydale, that there was a new trouble brewing that needed our combined efforts, I was worried. True, Faith and I had eliminated most of the main baddies in town, but Sunnydale always seems to draw more evil, like a moth to a flame. The benefits of living on the Hellmouth: why commute? Work, or in this case, demons, will come to you.
It was good to see Angel's group arrive in Sunnydale. Wesley and Giles immediately convened and immersed themselves in dusty old books, some of which were previously adding to the ambiance of Giles' apartment, but most brought along with the L.A. team.
Faith had a great time catching up with her old slaying partners. I've never really had the chance to get to know Gunn, but he and Faith get along famously. And when Faith and Cordelia get together -- it's like a whirlwind of action and noise, both of them talking at once, bickering, arguing, then laughing and nudging each other with their elbows, then more laughing, then back to bickering, and it's all way too weird to describe, it can only be experienced.
I had a great time seeing Faith so relaxed, and playful. She's on pretty good terms with Willow and Xander, now, but it's nowhere near the level of camaraderie that she displays with the L.A. group.
While Faith and Cordelia caught up with each other, I talked quietly with Angel. Relations between us are good, too, and I'm glad. We've traveled such a strange path, he and I -- I used to think he was my One True Love, back when I was still a kid. Hah. Listen to me. I sound like an old woman, but honestly, I've grown so far since we were together in the boyfriend/girlfriend sense. There's a past between us that can never be changed, and while we're not involved in a romantic sense, our friendship is rich, and deep...and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Angel's been there for Faith when she needed him, and he's been there for me when I needed him -- he's been there for both of us. I wasn't sure how he'd take our being together, but he knew it'd happen before either of us did. He smiled when we went to L.A. and told him, Faith needing to know it wouldn't change their bond, needing his understanding. Me, I just wanted him to know how happy I finally was, after surviving so much, both as a Slayer, and as a person -- I wanted to share my joy with him, that I was rediscovering the good things in life again. That I was discovering love again.
He didn't disappoint. Angel gave us his tacit approval, though neither of us went to L.A. consciously looking for it. And it meant a lot to us both.
I think even Mom would have approved of Faith and I, if she were alive today. Maybe she's looking down from Heaven, and smiling. I hope so. She and Angel have been so fundamental to whom I am today, they both mean so much to me. I can only hope I live to meet the ideals Mom gave me as I was growing up, continue to act in a way that would honour her memory, and her expectations of me as a person.
And I'm glad Angel is here, and continues to be a part of my life, even if we live so far apart now. It would have hurt so much if he couldn't accept Faith and me.
I'm even gladder he's here, as I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and see that he's thrown a knife into the Wirshya demon that was sneaking up on me. I grin at him, and he grins back, before turning to his own baddie and engaging it in a headlock.
'Time to get back into the fight, Buffy,' I think, 'Time to put the "Slayer" into "Vampire Slayer."' With that, I wade into the group of soon-to-be-future-dust-bunnies, stake held in attack position. The sooner we finish all the baddies off, the sooner Faith and I can go home.
Another smile crosses my face as I think of what Faith's words would be to that -- 'Isn't it crazy? Slaying always makes you hungry and horny' -- then she'd give me a wicked grin and pull me away with her, leaving behind the rest of our friends who've become used to our antics.
'Yes,' I think, 'Time to slay the baddies, Buffy, then go home with Faith.'
Fifteen minutes later, I'm still cutting a swath through way too many ugly demons, and cursing Angel for being right. It's like a never-ending stream of demon upon demon, a lot more baddies than I've seen together in a long time. If I weren't a Slayer, I'd be getting pretty tired by now.
And I seriously miss having Faith by my side.
Faith and I were separated early into the fight, the sheer number of demons, vampires, and other scary things driving us apart. The others were pretty much separated into smaller groups, too, though they held their usual fight positions...Wesley and Gunn, with Angel nearby, Xander backed up by Willow and Tara. Cordelia and Giles are covering all of us with their crossbows...doing a _great_ job, at that. That still surprises the heck out of me -- I can remember a time, not long ago, when I wouldn't have trusted Cordy with a spatula, and now she's just firing and firing away with deadly accuracy. Wonder of wonders.
Damn, I really hate that Faith isn't fighting next to me. When we're together, we're this unstoppable force -- nothing can touch us. We move as one, anticipating each other, a synergy to our movements that nothing can match. That good ole Slayer Connection kicking in -- nothing in the whole world can stop us when we're together.
I love that feeling. And I love that it's present in everything Faith and I do together, whether it's slaying, or just the day-to-day being in love with each other. Faith is my other half. And that shines through in everything we do -- I love her so very much.
Another ten minutes of fighting.
Dusting a vampress with bad hair gives me time to take another quick glance around...and we're trouncing the opposition. 'No shit, B', I can just hear Faith saying in my head, and the thought of her brings a smile to my face.
God, she's so cocky. Always has been. I love that about her. Before all this started, she scoffed and played down this confrontation, predicting we'd kick the baddies' asses, 'with prejudice'. Her very words. So far, it looks like she may be right.
I'm prevented from further thoughts of her by the appearance of two Vxzchar-- arrgh, I can't remember what they're called, by two green horned demons. But even if I can't remember what they're called, I know how to take them down.
It's harder than it looks -- they're both a good four feet taller than I am. One of them swings at me, and I'm forced to duck, as the other kicks, and I just narrowly miss having my stomach rearranged. Not that just the sight of them alone isn't enough to make it turn...I mean, why can't the green demons be non-ugly, just _once_?
A couple more passes and I manage to get my stake into the heart of one of them, located so very conveniently in the, ugh, underarm. God, I hate green demons. In its death throes, I'm knocked down, and the other tries to take advantage by jumping on me.
We wrestle a bit before I regain the advantage, and I'm just holding it down and staking it when I hear Faith yell from behind me.
"B!"
Then she slams into me, knocking me to the ground. What the -- ?!
"ARGH!"
FAITH!
The blood drains from my face as I hear her scream. I swear, it takes a lifetime for me to turn towards her, her pain-filled cry ripping through me. And when I do, I'm confronted with a sight straight from my worst nightmares. Oh, god...
"Faith!"
She's holding her stomach, her hands covered in blood -- oh, god, there's so much of it! The demon that clawed her is flying into the wall, and I'm sure Willow's behind that, but I don't even bother to look. I scramble to my feet and get to Faith just as she's collapsing.
Oh, god, Faith.
Time seems to crawl, the fight passing us by, gradually coming to an end around us as the others finish off the few remaining demons. And yet, the seconds pass so quickly as I turn her over in my arms, gently, cradling her to me.
"Faith! Hold on. Baby, you have to hold on!" I'm scared, frantic -- there's so much blood, and she's so pale. There's a deep, jagged tear just below her stomach, and blood is streaming from it. I press the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow and she whimpers in protest -- I'm hurting her.
No. No, no, no. This can't be happening.
I'm shaking. And I can't stop the bleeding. Faith's blood just keeps flowing through my fingers; warm and moist, it's soaking my shirt. I've never felt so powerless.
"Faith, please..." I'm crying. I can't help it and I can't stop. My tears run down my cheeks, falling onto hers, before disappearing into her thick mane. It rouses her, because suddenly I'm looking into dark, pain-filled eyes.
"B...?" She whispers, and it's so faint I can barely make out the words, even with Slayer hearing, "I love you, B."
"Faith," I say desperately, "You have to hold on. We'll get you to a hospital. Just stay with me. Don't leave me, Faith!"
Her eyelids start fluttering, like she can barely keep them open, and I feel small tremors wracking her body; she's going into shock. The wound won't stop bleeding.
'No, B,' Faith mouths. Her lips move soundlessly; she's too weak to give voice to her words. 'Don't look so scared.' Oh, baby, how can I not? 'I love you.' God, Faith, I love you too. So very, very much. 'You'll be fine.' Not without you. Never without you. 'I love you.'
I look into her eyes and they're so full of pain, and I can't stop crying. "Baby, please....Faith, I need you. Please. Faith, please, stay with me!"
'B, I love y--'
Her eyes flicker closed, her entire body becoming limp in my arms.
"Faith!" I yell, shaking her. No response. Oh, god, Faith, please..."Faith! Hold on, Faith! Damn it -- Faith!"
Still nothing.
I feel like my heart is being shredded, stretched out, twisting beyond my control -- a jackknife in the ribs would hurt less -- I'm about to break down when I hear the chanting.
What is happening--?
I turn...and my heart stops.
Dedications: To Ashwolf -- for sending me my first FB.
~~~~~
Day 2
~~~~~
Sunnydale General.
We've been here for hours. Four of them, in fact. Forty-six minutes. Thirty seconds. God, I hate this place. Even worse than I hated Principle Snyder and high school. Sometimes it seems like I spend all of my time here, apart from my home and the usual Slayer haunts I visit when on patrol.
Sitting on the hard plastic of the hospital chair, I feel so numb as I wait for word from the doctors. The last few hours have drained the spirit from me, the adrenaline rush from the fight fading away, leaving me in a mindless haze. So different from the terror that screamed inside of me when we first arrived -- I was so frightened. I can't remember ever feeling that frightened before; impending apocalypses have nothing on it.
It was so close. So very, very close.
Another second, and Faith would have died. Despite the numbness, I find myself trembling as the events of the past few hours run through my mind, yet again, and that surprises me -- I thought I was beyond reacting to anything anymore. But as the images crash through my mind on endless repeat, I realize that the sick feeling within me won't go away until I can see Faith again, talk with her...hold her.
A distant part of me is vaguely surprised that I haven't started crying -- the fight, Faith going down, Willow and Tara, the horribly long ride to Sunnydale General, the panic when we finally arrived, nurses and doctors swarming us, whisking Faith away, watching helplessly as they wheeled Faith's unresponsive body into the operating room -- I've cried a year's worth of tears, already, and they haven't even begun to ebb. So much fear, so much pain, so much hurt, deep down inside of me.
Only Faith can stop this ache. I say a silent prayer that she continues to hold on, that her fierce will to live serves her again, and she'll fight her way back to me. I can't imagine my life without her.
With that thought, I send another prayer of thanks towards Willow and Tara -- if not for them, Faith wouldn't have made it this far. They scared the beejeevils out of me back at the warehouse...I've never seen them wielding so much power. When I heard the chanting and turned, I saw them standing together, their hands linked, casting some sort of spell...their eyes were glowing emerald green. The colour of life, they tell me, but I don't know...there's so much of their magic I don't understand, and have never understood.
Looking at them, it was almost as if I could see the magical aura surrounding them, see the lines of pure energy flowing between them and towards Faith, as they pointed at her. It freaked me out so much, I'm sure my heart must have stopped for a minute. I've never seen either of them like that before; like peering into a sun, a supernova...incomprehensible and terrifying. Yet at the same time, it was still Willow, the same girl who'd been my best friend since high school, and Tara who'd become almost as great a friend over the years we've known each other.
Whatever they did, it slowed Faith's bleeding. Kept her breathing long enough to get her to the hospital. Afterwards, they just collapsed in exhaustion, limbs trembling, panting for breath as though they'd run for miles. They're at home now, recuperating from the fight and the price their magic exacts from them -- usually, it leaves them tired, but this time they were completely out of it. I doubt if either could lift a finger to help themselves. Xander left with them after calling Anya, and now they're both over there taking care of our Wicca's. I am so grateful to them.
And this, more than anything, has proven that Willow's forgiven Faith of her past. Willow was the most reluctant to accept Faith and I, back when I finally acknowledged I was in love with her. She couldn't reconcile the Faith of the past with the woman she is now, and wouldn't support our being together. That changed when Faith saved Tara from a vampire, putting her own life at risk. I think that's when Willow was first able to see the good in her; all the blinders were cast aside, and she could _see_ that Faith had changed. The uneasiness that lay between them lifted, allowing them the chance for a real friendship, not just the tolerance they evinced for my sake.
For what Willow's done for Faith now, I can never repay her.
Looking around the waiting area, I can see that I'm not the only one left numb by all this waiting. Giles and Wesley are both in their own worlds as they sit quietly, hiding their thoughts behind a stoic British veneer. I'm always surprised at Wesley's loyalty to Faith, given their history, but none of the L.A. crowd have left...they refused to go before hearing Faith's status from the doctors, just hunkered down and prepared themselves for the long haul.
Even Cordelia is still here, curled up in a chair next to Gunn; they've both fallen asleep. For once, it seems Cordy's not worried about what sleeping in a chair will do to her clothes. Angel hasn't said a word as he paces and broods, sometimes stopping to stare out at the night sky. I'd join him, but I feel enervated.
With a sigh, I try to relax into the uncomfortable chair, and my mind drifts off again. Maybe it's the way the hospital lights glow, that hypnotizing, unwavering brightness that never seems to change, but I find myself thinking about Mom.
I remember when she was sick and had to stay here; we sat together for hours during the daily visits. Mom tried to make things pleasant, but there was always the undeniable reality that we were in a hospital lurking beneath that artificial cheer. A place full of busy doctors, and sick people...people dying.
Unbidden, the image of Faith comes not me -- not the vibrant woman I know and fell in love with, but my last image of her before she was whisked away...so very pale, bleeding...dying.
A shudder courses through my body, and I mutter an excuse, quickly moving away from the others and stepping into a washroom. There, I run some cold water and splash my face with it, welcoming the shock of the icy droplets -- it's bracing, and I need that. Looking down, I find myself gripping the sides of the sink and I force myself to take deep breaths. I refuse to look up into the mirror, because if I do, I'll start crying and I don't want to do that. I won't do that.
It takes a few minutes to regain some semblance of control. Only when I'm sure of myself do I look up. I'm shocked by what I see. Is that really me?
It's my eyes; I look...wounded. I don't see a strong, independent young woman, or a powerful Slayer, the longest-living one according to the Watcher's history books...I see a scared, hurt animal. Frightened for her mate.
I can't let the others see me like this. Faith wouldn't like it. And so I force myself to take control, imposing an iron will upon myself. I won't break down. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to calm, until the image looking back at me is a picture of strength and stability. I can do this.
One last long look into the mirror, and I leave to rejoin the others awaiting Faith's prognosis.
Another thirty minutes have passed, and even Giles has started to nod off. Cordelia's started drooling on Gunn -- I wonder how he'll feel when he wakes up with her saliva all over him; it has the hallmarks of a never-to-be-forgotten bad joke. Angel's taken up polishing his boots using just his right pinkie finger. Sometimes I wonder if he might be even more neurotic than I am.
The doctors have been with Faith all this time, and they haven't come out once. God, what is taking so long? As if on cue, a doctor comes out of the operating room; she looks tired and I hold my breath, anticipating news that will change my life.
"Ms. Summers?" She asks.
"Yes." I'm on my feet instantly. I'm barely aware that my hands are clenched tight. "Tell me how she is," I demand.
She smiles reassuringly. "Your friend is out of any immediate danger. Her injuries were quite severe, but we've managed to contain them. The damage to the abdomen was complex; there were a number of internal injuries, part of the reason we had to operate for so long, but given time and luck, they'll heal well."
Finally! Some good news -- Faith's still in critical condition, but they've stabilized her. She's unconscious, and she has to stay here under observation -- the doctor wants to monitor her condition, just in case...no, I won't be negative. She _will_ be better soon. She's going to come back to me, and we'll laugh, and hug, and I'll kiss her, and I'll yell at her for doing this to me, then we'll kiss, and kiss again.
"Can I see her?" I ask the doctor as she finishes.
She hesitates. "It's late..."
"Please. Just for a little while," I beg, "I just need to see her, I won't disturb her..."
The doctor must see the desperation in my eyes, because she relents.
"All right. But only one of you can go in," she adds, looking behind me, and I realize the rest of the gang is awake and listening to us, "And you have to be very quiet."
I nod quickly, showing my understanding. I turn, briefly, to the others, and they're smiling with relief in their eyes. Without saying a word, they free me to go to Faith.
I turn back to the doctor, and follow her as she leads me to Faith.
The first thing I notice is the dimness of the room. The lights are off, reflecting the lateness of the hour, but moonlight shines through the window, lending the room an eerie glow. It's quiet. The only sound is from the hum of equipment in the room; the thickness of the door mutes the sounds from the rest of the hospital. The air is so still. My eyes adjust, and I see her...and my breath catches.
Faith is hooked up to so many machines. Uneasily, it reminds me of the last time she was a patient of Sunnydale General, the time she was in a coma...when I stabbed her.
And with that thought, everything crashes into me and I'm crying. The fight, the panic, the fear I'd lose her, her eyes -- so full of pain, her face so pale -- it's all too much. I'm sobbing silently as I'm overwhelmed, flooded by the events of the last 24 hours.
This is my fault. I should have sensed that demon. Faith shouldn't have had to intercept it, shouldn't have been cut open protecting me...she shouldn't be here, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to so many damn machines!
Angel is here. I feel his arms wrap around me, comforting. How many times have we stood like this?
I know he loves her. They're like mirrors, in a way, both of them haunted by memories of their actions, trying to atone for the sins they've committed. They both have inner demons, trying to get free to cause havoc, to themselves and others.
Angel saw the real Faith, so long ago -- the hurting Faith, the one sorry for all that went wrong during her first disastrous stay in Sunnydale, the Faith hidden under a mask of indifference and false bravado.
He tried to tell me when I went to L.A. years ago, intent on hunting her down. I don't know what I was planning to do to Faith then...hurt her, kill her, make her pay for making me a victim. I was furious for what she had done, full of self-righteous anger, and I refused to hear him.
God, if only I had listened! Angel saw her, why couldn't I? So much time wasted. If I'd listened, if I had paid more attention...we could have had so much more time.
She went to jail for me. 'Tell me how to make things better,' she cried. And when I told her to turn herself in, she went without looking back. She tried to apologize, and I threatened to beat her to death.
Faith spent eight months in a coma. Three years in a prison -- when no prison ever built can hold a Slayer if she didn't allow it -- and now this.
It's not fair! We haven't had enough time. I haven't had enough time to make it up to her.
I don't know how much time passes as Angel and I stand together in the darkness of the too quiet hospital room. My tears have stopped, but I'm crying inside. Staring at Faith, I feel so afraid.
No matter what I do, the fear won't go away. I need her so much.
She can't die.
Please, don't let her die.
Dedications: To my fellow fanfic authors -- I don't often send fb., but if you've posted here, I've most likely read your work, and thank-you for writing it. You're the inspiration for my own nascent steps into btvs fanfic. Er...I _think_ that's a compliment...<g>
~~~~~
Day 3
~~~~~
Cordelia came to visit today.
I've never understood her relationship with Faith. When Faith and I first became lovers, I used to be so jealous of her, of how much she meant to Faith; they were so _close_.
She'd call, or Faith would call her, and I could see Faith lowering her defenses when she talked. I'd catch her, sometimes, and she'd have this look on her face that I rarely saw...unguarded, open, relaxed. Or she'd be laughing on the phone with Cordy, and that laughter was so carefree, so exuberant -- like she didn't have anything to hide, wasn't holding anything back -- it made my heart clench. Faith wasn't that open with me, yet, and I shared her bed.
It drove me nuts.
On the surface, Faith and Cordy are so different from one another. Faith and her sexy dark leathers, or tanks and tight denim, Cordy in the latest Gucci styles and Prada shoes...always at the height of the latest fashion trends. I could never figure them out.
Cordelia and I, despite all the years we've known each other, have never really bonded, not like I have with Willow or Xander. We probably wouldn't have crossed paths at all, if not for Xander's involvement with her in high school. (Their relationship being something that, to this day, I can't lay claim to understanding).
We've both seen more than we should have had to in our lives -- that's a given, with the demon-fighting we do -- and while we share information easily enough, tips on the latest Big Bad activity, we're not friends. There has always been a distance between us. I know some of my reluctance with Cordelia stems from our high school days - there's always been a hint of competitiveness between us, right from the start. That and...envy, I suppose, though I'm loath to admit it, even to myself.
Cordy was me, the Buffy I was before slaying entered my life, before I became a Slayer and my world turned upside down -- a cheerleader with a big, bright smile, energetically setting the fashion trends others would follow. Not caring for much beyond what was cool to wear, or which boy would be my latest fashion accessory.
After fighting for my life, and the lives of others, against vampires and demons that the world didn't believe in, so much of that became meaningless. Living on the hellmouth, especially, just reinforced that attitude. I didn't have the time or energy to hang out with people whose only worries were looks and clothes...it was hard enough trying to keep my grades up while patrolling nightly, and hiding all of it from Mom.
Still, a part of me has always wished that I could have been the normal girl with no concerns in the world; could have lived the carefree life, where a moment's distraction on my part didn't result in death, mine or of those around me. I envied the kids that didn't have an obligation to wander around cemeteries on a Friday night.
Cordelia never gave a thought to any of this. She knew about the demons and monsters, thanks to Xander's influence, but she was still so self-absorbed, so shallow...always only interested in something if it affected her own 'stock' in life. She had everything I used to have -- popularity, the 'cool' crowd, cheerleading -- and no world-saving worries. Her only contribution, it seemed, was caustic remarks, a snippy attitude, and a closet full of disparaging comments to toss at us.
It sure didn't endear her to me. It grated on me, constantly, her attitude. Cordelia never appreciated just how good she had it. Instead, she acted like everyone in the 'popular' crowd did -- rubbing it in that she was rich, beautiful, supposedly better than everyone else. She didn't care that her snide remarks hurt Willow, cutting her self esteem...Willow, who's always been so sensitive, and shy. It infuriated me.
No, Cordelia and I never clicked. At least, not until that horrible "Slayerfest '98", courtesy of Mr. Trick's warped mind. What a nightmare. Faith and I were supposed to go to Homecoming together -- I wish we had, so much might have been different -- instead, Cordy and I ended up in a rented limousine, courtesy of our friends who thought we needed to resolve our problems with one another.
It seems so silly now, but at the time we fought tooth and nail to win the title of Homecoming Queen. I was incensed by Cordy's uncaring attitude, and after being subjected to her blatant attempts to win herself the crown, and having received one put-down too many at _just_ the wrong moment -- when I was lamenting my own lack of presence in the high school yearbook, so different from my life at my old school -- I decided to fight her for it. It was a crazy thing to do, but I needed it so badly...something to prove to myself that there was more to me than just the Slayer.
Homecoming should have been a great night, dancing with friends, relaxing with peers, being crowned Queen...instead, Cordy and I ended up being the targets in an insane hunt, hounded by assassins, vampires and demons, all intent on killing who they thought were the Slayers. We missed pretty much all of the dancing, ruined our dresses, barely had a chance to relax with the gang, and worse, neither of us won the crown. All of that work, and we both came up empty.
Still...by the end of the night, we'd beaten the bad guys at their own game, cheated death, (yet again), and learned something of the other. Through the stress of being hunted together, we'd finally bonded, something that'd eluded us in our usual settings. For a little while, at least...for that one night, we understood each other, had a little peek into each other's souls, and realized that neither of us had it as easy as we'd thought.
Now that we're both adults, it seems strange that there's that distance between us again. Not just the physical distance from living in different cities, but, emotional as well. The understanding we established Homecoming night didn't translate into our daytime lives, and when Cordy moved to L.A., we said our good-byes...not as rivals, or enemies, or friends...just as two people that'd survived the years of Principle Snyder, having faced a few more demons than most of our classmates had, and lived to tell the tale.
It's in L.A. that Faith and Cordelia became friends, living together in the same apartment. When I think about it, it's made me wonder at times, but I've never been able to bring myself to ask Faith more about those days. Not the questions that burned in my mind, about her and Cordy. The years they've spent together. Alone in her apartment.
Arrgh!
It's not like I don't trust Faith...I know she loves me as much, maybe even more than I love her, (although how it'd be possible to love even an iota beyond the infinite depth of love I have for her is hard to imagine). It's just...it's always been a little unsettling how much she loves Cordy.
Faith can be hard to get close to, and yet Cordy seems to breeze by her defenses with ease, reaching her deep inside where she keeps her hidden secrets. There's noone else she relaxes so easily with...and it seems mutual for Cordy, as well. It's disconcerting, to say the least.
The few times I did manage to question Faith about Cordy yielded answers that were far from satisfying. I remember asking her about them once, early on into our relationship -- I was trying to understand what it was that tied the two of them together. She told me that Cordy's visions really affected her perspective on life, that there was a lot more to Cordy than people gave her credit for.
I was skeptical, and put it out of my mind. It didn't ring true with how I saw Cordy, and I couldn't accept it. And so, I was no closer to understanding her. I think, subconsciously...I didn't want to know, didn't _care_ to know. Not really. I wasn't ready to see Cordy as anything more than the self-centered, shallow girl I knew in high school.
So, despite the fact that we both fight demons on a far-too-regular basis, have friends in common from our teenage days, and have occasionally saved each other's lives, Cordy and I are still...unchummy. Which is odd. More so, when considering how much Faith, my lover and her best friend, means to each of us.
With Faith hurt, and lying comatose in the hospital, all of my previous reticence for Cordelia came to the foreground.
When visiting hours began, Cordy was the first to come see her, beside myself, first thing in the morning. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but a small part of me was suspicious when Cordy arrived. That nagging bit of jealousy, always present when it came to Cordelia, reared its ugly head again.
But she was subdued. No caustic, snide attitude that grated on my nerves. Only sadness, and gentle concern. Despite myself, Cordy's obvious concern for Faith completely disarmed me. As Cordy sat with Faith, I could tell how worried she was, how much it hurt her that Faith unresponsive, and a part of my hard attitude towards her relaxed.
I left them alone together and went to get us coffees. When I got back, Cordelia was giving a 'Queen C' tirade about how Faith had to wake up soon, dammit, she was going to miss the Prada sale. She looked up and saw me and gave me this sheepish grin. Said she used to wake Faith up like this, when they were roommates in L.A. I couldn't help but smile back.
We sat there, next to the woman who means the world to both of us, and talked for hours.
Cordelia told me stories of them in L.A., of how they'd go shopping together, and Faith would scare all of the sales clerks. Of how they were almost evicted once, when Faith flirted too outrageously with the wrong manager; and of another time, when she flirted a bit too successfully...and the saleswoman almost didn't let them leave. I laughed at that -- I could just picture it, Faith and Cordy in the middle of some upscale clothing store, being pursued by an overly interested clerk.
She talked of their nightly jaunts across the city, of burning up the highway on the back of Faith's motorcycle, blazing a path into the night, just the two of them. Of riding out to the country with Faith, to watch the moon come out, and the stars twinkling in the sky...times where they'd share secrets with each other, dreams, hopes, and fears. She tells me of other times, where shared silences spoke louder than words ever could. Of how their friendship was forged in loneliness, and pain, but grew into a bond that included laughter and happiness. A thing of joy, precious to them both.
Cordy told me of the cases they worked on at Angel Investigations, of how the whole gang, somehow, just _fit_ together, despite the vast differences in personality. The tension between Wesley and Faith nearly broke them up, until that one pivotal case where Faith nearly died facing a Plygorthi demon -- my heart paused, hearing that, but Cordelia continued on. Faith took the slash meant for Wesley, and the Plygorthi's poison worked its way into Faith's system. She was delirious for days, and in that time, some of the nightmares Faith had were revealed to him as he watched over her. That was the first time Wesley realized just how pained Faith was over her torture of him, how guilt ate her up. It was then that he forgave her.
I learn from Cordy of other, less dangerous missions. Of when an old woman, sure of a ghost in her apartment, called them only to discover that the moaning and groaning she heard late at night, were from a pair of indiscreet S&M lovers in the apartment next to her, whose soundproofing didn't _quite_ block all of their...play. I blushed at that. Cordelia's outburst of laughter at the memory sparked my own, and we sat for minutes giggling like schoolgirls.
Cordelia painted a rich tapestry of their life in L.A. Demon fighting and dancing. Picking curtain colours, and buying black leathers. Dark bars and destiny, singing karaoke, and a demon called Lorne. I never knew Faith could sing.
It was...soothing...talking with Cordelia, and I felt the tightness in my chest loosening just a little bit, the knot in my aching heart unraveling the tiniest amount.
Sitting with her, I think I finally began to see what Faith sees in her. I'm starting to understand why they're best friends, of how they get along while seemingly polar opposites on the outside.
I'm glad Cordy's here.
I'm still thinking about Cordelia, hours later, after she's left.
I know it hurt Cordy that Faith didn't show any signs of waking during her visit, that it killed her to have to leave before seeing even a flicker that Faith knew we were there...just like it kills me when I leave Faith here, alone, at night.
As I ponder Cordelia with new insight, one of my previous conversations with Faith comes to mind. She was trying to explain how she and Cordy were alike, deep down inside. Faith used an analogy that surprised me with its perception.
She said that people were just like icebergs -- you can only see the smallest fraction of them, that tiniest part that lies above the surface; when in fact, underneath, there was so much more hidden from the casual eye. The whole bulk that makes up the individual.
And that this was true of Cordelia and her -- with the added benefit that each of them could freeze out anyone they didn't want getting inside of them. She said this last part with her trademark cocky grin, and soon we were talking of other things. I didn't have much to say about Faith's observation, and I think she sensed it, and so she didn't push the issue.
I'd put that conversation out of my mind, unwilling to accept that there was more to Cordy than I thought, but I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have. I can see how Cordelia's changed. She used to be so self-centered, and she still is, to an extent, on the surface. But there's a depth to her now, one that didn't exist in high school...at least, not that I could see. I'm coming around a corner it seems, finally able to see Cordy in a new light.
If...when Faith wakes up, I think I want to spend some time with them. In L.A., where they first became the good friends they are today. I think I'm ready now, to understand what it is that they have together, the special friendship they share that I could never fathom before.
All Faith has to do is wake up.
~~~~~
Day 4
~~~~~
There's been no change in Faith's condition.
She's stable, the wound healing remarkably fast. The doctors are amazed, but they don't know about Slayer healing, or witchcraft; they don't know how tough Faith is. But, she's still unconscious. Why won't she wake up?
Willow and Tara have stopped by daily. Each morning they recast the healing spell they did at the warehouse; each morning I'm sure that is the day Faith will open her eyes and smile at me again. But it isn't, and each day my heart breaks a little bit more.
I don't understand. Physically, Faith's in great shape, especially considering what she was like when she was first admitted -- Willow and Tara have seen to that. When they're casting their spell, I can actually see Faith's wound healing, losing the ugly redness from where the demon's claws slashed her, and from the aftermath of the operation. There's still lingering traces of pinkness along the damaged flesh, but that's only to be expected. The way the wound appears, it's like it was weeks old, not just the days it has been since Faith was hurt.
What worries me is Faith's continuing state of unconsciousness. Giles assured me that the demon's claws wouldn't have had any venom in them, that there wouldn't be anything extra for her Slayer metabolism to fight off, just the physical damage. So she should be awake by now. Faith and I have both recovered from otherwise life-threatening wounds, and been up and running not long after. Given how well Faith is now, I would have expected her to be awake and demanding to go home long ago. So, why isn't she?
Instead, she's so still. It...this stillness...it's unlike anything I'd ever associate with Faith, and it unnerves the living hell out of me. Faith is fire, and passion, and raw fury. She's full of energy, whether she's burning up the dance floor, or beating vampires into submission. She _is_ the energy.
When we first met, so long ago, she scared me and intrigued me at the same time. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Wild, and untamed, dancing at the Bronze, then later, staking the vampire that had picked her to feed on. So different from anyone I'd ever known before. I was riveted to her, my eyes glued to her every movement. When I realized she was a Slayer, I thought that was the reason for the instant connection that formed between us, the explanation for why the very air seemed to crackle when we were together.
The Chosen Two. Slayers. We alone stood between the forces of evil and humankind. We alone in all the world possessed the powers we did, bore the responsibilities they gave us. There's a surety to our movements that only a Slayer can enjoy -- a combination of grace, agility, speed, strength...it's all there, and it sets us apart from the rest of the world. No one else could imagine the feeling, could possibly understand what it means to be a Slayer. No one.
So it came as a total surprise that we could be so very different in our approach to life. Faith threw herself into everything she did, with a reckless abandon that was the complete opposite from the iron control I placed myself under. She loved the slaying, whereas to me, it was always a burden, interfering with my ever living a normal life. She had a "bad girl" toughness that was a dramatic contrast to my "good girl." Her very presence inspired a gauntlet of emotions within me, forced me to reevaluate everything I thought I understood about my life -- it was confusing, aggravating, annoying...and strangely appealing. We were fire and ice, and the sparks between us could light up a city.
Faith challenged me in a way that, to this day, no one else ever has. She invoked emotions that I'd never felt before, reached deep within me, touching the core that made me "Buffy". And she did it easily. Without effort, she leapt over the barriers I'd begun constructing ever since Mom and Dad divorced, barriers I used to keep everyone out. I could hide nothing from her; as easily as breathing, Faith saw right through me. I felt naked when I was with her, even when dressed in my bulkiest sweaters, because she saw my very soul. That...instant knowing...she possessed resonated within me. Something buried deep inside of me recognized her, despite all of our apparent differences, responded to her advances with unparalled joy. Finally, there was someone who matched me, understood me...was _right_.
And yet, at the same time, I was terrified. The pure depth of emotion in my response to her scared me. We connected so easily, so quickly...and I'd never had such an immediate reaction to anyone else in my life. Faith turned my world upside down and sideways...and that frightened me. I think that's why I failed her the first time around.
Struggling with the unknown emotions, I allowed my fear to rule me in my dealings with Faith. I wouldn't let her in, and was resistant to her way of thinking, rebuffing her when we fought the undead at night. Our styles contrasted, and it was easy to criticize her unplanned assaults in favour of my deliberate moves. I rebutted her attempts to gain entry into my circle of friends, to the depths of my mind, shot down her efforts to understand...refused to succumb to her influence.
Until that one night. One glorious night at the Bronze, dancing together, alone with each other, even when surrounded by boys on all sides. Everything was perfect. Right. Like never before, my world was the way it should be. For a short time, I allowed myself to know her, and her me. I can still feel the pulse of the music, the heat in the air, the energy that we shared. There was only us. The Chosen Two. The way it was meant to be.
A fleeting moment in time, shattered by the accident, later, with Allen Finch. And it _was_ an accident. I knew it, even then. But it gave me an excuse to surrender to the fear. It gave me a reason to reject Faith and her wild ways. A last attempt to block her out, resist the connection between us that was becoming so vital to me. In Faith's presence, I was never in charge of my emotions -- I wanted to lose control with her. I _wanted_ it. A part of me screamed for it. And that terrified the part of me that clutched at the vestiges of control that I placed on my life.
As the horror of taking a human life sank in, it blended in with my fear at how easily I lost control of myself around Faith, with my fear at how Faith was becoming so necessary to me. Why was she so important? I didn't understand, didn't want to. My walls rose up, higher than before, and I slammed her out. In doing so, I unknowingly broke our tenuous bond. Before I knew what was happening, it was too late, and we had became enemies. Letting her go, not fighting the Mayor to get her back, not fighting for _her_...all in all, I think they're the biggest mistakes of my life, all taking place before I could even understand what was going on.
But even now, I don't think I could have done anything differently...I was too young and scared. Just eighteen. Too young to know any better, to realize my actions would lead to my biggest regrets. I think, no, I'm sure, that Faith has those same regrets. That we couldn't have been better our first time around.
When she came back to Sunnydale, I was never so grateful in my life. And when we tried again, I was never so glad of the Slayer connection that tied us together despite everything that worked to drive us apart. I never understood my feelings for Faith when we first met but I did when she came back, thanks in part to Willow's discovery of love with Tara. As I watched their relationship grow, it dawned on me that the passion I felt around Faith, the irresistible appeal she held for me, the longing I always felt to be around her, to lose control with her...it was a similar bond of love and desire.
Faith gave me another chance by coming back. I couldn't believe her courage in returning to Sunnydale, knowing that Xander and Willow hated her guts, that I was more likely wanting to kill her than welcome her. But she did. And now she's the most important person in my life.
She gave me all the time I needed to get used to her living in Sunnydale again. She never pressed me. She waited patiently for me to grow accustomed to her presence again, never lashing out at Xander or Willow when they baited her. Never responding to their barbs. I could see it then, how she had changed -- the old her would never have let them go unpunished for some of the things they said.
That night on patrol, when I finally let myself give in to her, reaching up to kiss her beautiful lips, taste her on my tongue...that night changed my life. Over the two years that we've spent as lovers, I've learned far more about Faith than I ever imagined possible. I know her better than anyone else on this planet, just like she does me. I've learned to appreciate Faith's attitude for what it is, the way she sees things, the reasons for why she's the woman she is today.
I learned that Faith is a fighter, and has been all her life. She's not someone who'll give up in the face of adversity. It took me a long time to understand it, and a part of me was so sad and so angry when I did. Ever since she was a young girl Faith has had to fight. Her pathetic excuses for parents -- those bastards, if anyone deserved hell, they were the ones. She never gave up when she was a child being abused her father, never gave up when her mother beat her black and blue. Pain and rage learned as a child forged her into the woman she is now. Somehow she overcame their cruelty, preserving instead the fierce determination to live and fight, to never give up.
As a Slayer, she never gave up when she fought me during the horrible time when we were enemies. She never gave up when she fought for me, to win my forgiveness, and eventually, my love. I sometimes wonder what she'd be like if she'd had decent parental figures in her life, the way I had Mom. Would she still be so dark and dangerous, my other half? Would her indomitable will to survive exist as it is today? I'll never know.
I only know that Faith is the strongest person I have ever known. That no one else makes me feel the way she does. Not even close. I know that I miss her, desperately.
I know that I want her back.
"Buffy?"
Wesley's voice rouses me from the light nap I'd drifted into. A quick glance at Faith tells me that nothing's changed, she's still unconscious, and I sigh softly.
"Wesley. What's up?" I ask, brushing the sleep from my eyes. He motions for me to follow him. Puzzled, I leave the room, throwing a last glance towards Faith as I go. We don't go far, just to a small waiting room where Gunn and Cordelia are standing together. They look grim, and I wonder what trouble is brewing now.
"We've received a call from Fred," Wesley begins, and I recall that she stayed behind to mind the fort in L.A. Strange woman...so smart, and yet, at times oddly vulnerable, like she's not quite there. "There's trouble with Gunn's old street gang. It appears there is some sort of demonic infestation that they have encountered, and they require our aid in disposing of it," he continues.
"Couple of vamps took out two of my crew. The boys were ready to take them out, but were ambushed in the sewers." Gunn chips in. "Looks like they ran into reinforcements, 'cause they got chased out in a hurry. None of them are pushovers, but they all got hurt bad -- it's just luck that they weren't killed, too."
I see the rage in his eyes at that, can easily read the angry tension in his body...I'd feel the same if anything dared to hurt Xander or Willow.
"Buffy," Wesley says, "It's imperative that we return to L.A. If there is a group of demons on the loose, there's no one there to protect the innocent. With Gunn's gang out of commission, the demons face no resistance to their attacks. If left unchallenged, they may cause irreparable damage.
"Giles is preparing to assume patrol duties here in Sunnydale. He will pair up with Xander, and on alternate nights, Willow and Tara. They should more than suffice, as I expect the level of vampire activity will be nearly non-existent, as it has been the last two nights. Word of our success in dispatching the demons at the warehouse seems to have spread amongst the remaining demon populace -- there are very few undead willing to risk their existence by roaming the streets at night, not even to feed. Certainly, they are not eager to chance a meeting with one of us, not after the carnage we wrought on their numbers."
As Wesley speaks, it strikes me how "in charge" he is, how different he's become from when I first knew him as a stuffy Watcher type. I realize that this is another reason for why Faith and Cordelia get along so well, why the whole L.A. gang seems so closely knit. The Scoobies, those of us who haven't left Sunnydale, we don't see the L.A. gang beyond our first impressions of them. When you form an image of someone, that image sticks in your mind -- and once it does, it's so hard to change it, no matter what might happen later. In Cordelia's case, she's the cheerleading, high school Queen C; Faith the rogue Slayer; Wesley a ramrod British prat; Angel forever dark and brooding. But they've grown beyond our image of them, matured so much in the years they've spent in L.A. -- and we don't always remember that.
Cordy, Faith...they don't have that problem. They see each other for what they are now, not what they were then. The same with Wesley and Angel...they're not carrying around the old baggage. Their relationship is so tight because they're not fighting images of what they were, just accepting, and moving on with what their lives are today.
"...we plan to depart once the sun goes down. This will give Angel a chance to say farewell to Faith. Buffy, you know that this is potentially very serious. Otherwise, there is nothing that could move us from Faith's side," Wesley finishes, and I refocus on the discussion.
"Right," I say. "It is urgent. I mean, I know there's a lot of stuff that goes on in L.A., too. You have to be there."
"I'm not going." Cordy breaks in. "I need to be here. And Faith needs me. I'm not needed in L.A., not this time." Cordelia's adamant about staying. Just yesterday this would have bothered me, but now I welcome her company.
Wesley nods slowly. I can tell how much he doesn't want to leave -- he really does care for Faith.
There's not much to say after that. As we wait for evening, Wesley and Gunn each take a turn sitting with Faith, sharing the last moments before they leave with her. When Angel arrives, there's a bit of tension again, as they try to delay their departure. After a few more minutes, they're finally ready to leave. Cordelia goes with them to bundle up the last of the supplies they've left at the mansion.
Alone again, I find myself standing at Faith's bedside, looking down at her quiescent beauty. In the darkness of Faith's room, it comes to me how much I need her, how much I've always needed her. My hands move of their own volition to touch her hair, running gently through the chestnut locks. As I follow the curve of her cheekbone, I marvel at how young Faith looks. So innocent and untroubled. I trace her lips lightly, first with my fingers then with my own lips, seeking their familiar comfort.
I linger there, breathing in the same air she does, before stepping back from her prone form. A lone tear escapes my eye, falling slowly down my cheek. It's time to leave, but I can't bring myself to go just yet.
"Come on, Faith," I whisper, "It's time for you to wake up. I need you here. With me."
Silence.
"I'm not five-by-five without you."
...to be continued...