Slaying Your Demons
by JewWitch18
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Joss and the Mutant Jerkoffs own everything…doesn’t mean I have to like it. And, lyrics from “Places I Remember” are owned by the Beatles.
Spoilers: One fleeting reference to “Killed by Death” (S2). Only a very vague reference to the girl-on-girl action awaiting Willow in S4…
Feedback: Hell yeah! Good, bad, or ugly.
Buffy entered the school library just as classes were letting out, prepared for another fun and wildly stimulating Scooby meeting. Things had been quiet in Sunnydale lately, and she and Faith were both growing restless. And while they had certainly been putting that excess energy to what was, in her opinion, quite good use, her girlfriend had been right when she had told Buffy in no uncertain terms that a lack of satisfactory slayage left her “itchin’ for a good uhhhgh.”
A dopey smile blossomed on her face as she thought of Faith. She still hadn’t told the gang, or anyone else, about the relationship she shared with her fellow slayer; but she was beginning to realize that the question burning in her mind was not, “Do I tell them,” but rather, “How do I tell them?” She knew it would freak everyone out a little (except Xander, she suspected, but he’d need a bucket of ice water on hand for sure). They’d deal, though, wouldn’t they? After her last relationship, this should seem positively vanilla by comparison. Yet still she held back, and she knew the reason. She remembered the cold, territorial, you’re-not-good-enough-for-our-Buffy looks that had been so often thrown at Angel by every one of her friends at one point or another, and she couldn’t stand the idea of them looking at Faith that way. They were all just beginning to really mesh as a team; the Chosen Two, their Watcher and their Scooby gang, and Buffy knew the approving smiles and pats on the back were new to Faith. She saw the glimmer in those beautiful, bottomless eyes every time Giles said “well done,” or Willow threw a friendly arm around her shoulders, promising witchy backup should the need arise. She didn’t want to take that away from her girl, who, for all her badass attitude, was obviously soaking up the caring support of her new Scooby family.
And yet, she was crazy in love with Faith, and she wanted the whole world to know it. She wanted to sing it from the rooftops, maybe make a big banner to hang in the lunchroom proclaiming it in giant letters. Most of all, she wanted to be able to kiss Faith in front of everyone.
She was still thinking of this and grinning like a Cheshire cat when she spotted the object of her desire, who was, surprisingly, asleep at the library table. Giles was still in his office, and the rest of the gang hadn’t gotten out of class yet. Buffy pulled up a chair next to Faith’s and rested her head on her arm, stroking her girlfriend’s silky chocolate-colored hair as she studied her sleeping face. She was so beautiful, so incredibly innocent, with her long eyelashes and her pouty bottom lip. Buffy thought she looked a little pale, though, and worried that Giles was working her too hard. She slipped the open book out from under Faith’s hand on the table—it was a Princeton Review workbook for the GED. Buffy smiled, swelling with pride, and allowed herself a moment’s fantasy involving herself, Faith, and a nice, cozy dorm room at UC Sunnydale. Then she leaned down and kissed the slightly parted lips.
“Uhhhn,” Faith mumbled, stirring slightly and scrunching up her nose. “B?” she murmured, eyes still closed.
“Naptime’s over, baby,” Buffy said softly in her ear, secretly thrilled that her name was the first thing on Faith’s mind as she woke. A small yet enthusiastic colony of butterflies erupted in her stomach as Faith opened her big, brown eyes and blinked up at Buffy with sleepy, unguarded adoration.
“Hey,” Faith said simply, smiling at the blond slayer.
“Hey yourself,” Buffy smiled back, and couldn’t help stealing a soft kiss from those perfect lips so close to her own. “Hard day?” she asked, ruffling her hand through Faith’s hair and kneading the back of her neck as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Nah, y’know. Giles keeps me busy training and studying, an’ Red came by to help me do some practice questions during one of her free periods.” Faith grinned shyly, the way she did when she couldn’t quite believe that people were doing things to help her. “Can’t believe I fell asleep,” she added sheepishly. “Guess quadratic equations just don’t hold my interest the way they used to...” Buffy giggled, and Faith kissed her slowly and thoroughly. “Now why can’t they test me on this?” she asked devilishly, making Buffy giggle again as they leaned their foreheads together.
“’Cause I’d kick their standardized-testing asses all the way back to...well, wherever people who like to grade tiny bubble sheets for a living come from. I’m the only one who gets to test you like that,” Buffy said authoritatively.
“Well, Professor Summers, do I pass?” Faith asked coyly. They were sitting up straight now, but very close together, with their knees touching. Buffy was preparing to offer a sizzling reply when she heard the library door swing open, and Willow, Oz, Xander and Cordelia walked in.
“Hey guys!” she squeaked, sitting back in her chair and pushing it back a few inches. She didn’t notice the way Faith’s face fell, and her shoulders slumped, as Buffy pushed away from her. “Everything A-okay on the Hellmouth?”
Giles came out of his office a few minutes later, and the Scooby meeting began. As per usual, Giles was taking an excessive amount of time to tell them that nothing much was up, but not to get overconfident or lax on patrol because that’s when evil slips up and catches you off guard. Buffy loved him, but he did tend to belabor a point every now and then. He had droned on without pause for over half an hour when Faith finally broke the monotony with a sharp breath and a sneeze.
“Bless you,” Buffy said, startled out of her dorm room fantasy for a second time. Just when she had had Faith coming back from her imaginary art class, all paint-spattered and yummy, while she ran a hot shower...
“Sorry,” Faith smiled awkwardly, pushing her hair back off her face. “Uh, what were you saying there, G-Man?”
“Oh, never mind, we may as well pack it in,” Giles conceded when he noticed the glazed looks they all wore. “I daresay Buffy and Faith can patrol tonight without assistance, so the rest of you can shove off.”
The group rose almost as one, eagerly preparing to leave school grounds and attend to that portion of their lives that was not Hellmouth-related. As Buffy rose, she had to stop herself from automatically putting her hand on the small of Faith’s back. It was one of her favorite places, and her hand seemed to have a mind of its own when it came within easy reach. Bad Buffy, she chastised herself, feeling bad that was beating herself up about it.
I ought to just tell them, she told herself for the hundredth time. Then she could touch Faith anywhere. Anywhere public, she thought furiously as a blush rose in her cheeks. Not anywhere on her body, because well, there was some stuff that was just private and she didn’t mean that she’d touch Faith “anywhere” in front of the gang, just that, once they knew, she wouldn’t have to worry about the regular, couple-y touching stuff when they were all together, because that’s very natural, and...
“B?” Faith asked loudly, in a tone of voice that suggested it wasn’t the first time she’d asked.
“Huh? Oh,” Buffy blinked as her internal babble fest was abruptly shut down. “Sorry. What?”
“I asked when you wanted to hit the headstones. You got studying you wanna do first?”
“Yeah, big French test coming up. Gotta get in some quality cramming time before the quality poofing time.”
“’S cool,” Faith nodded. “Why don’t I come pick you up around ten thirty?”
Buffy glanced around, noting that everyone had gone, and slid her arms around Faith’s neck.
“Golly gee, that kinda sounds like a date.” She played with the baby-soft hairs at the nape of the dark slayer’s neck. “Hope I can find something nice to wear.” Eyes twinkling, she leaned in to capture the pouty lips she loved, but Faith pulled back at the last minute, turning her head to the side in time to sneeze again into the crook of her arm.
“Bless you, baby,” Buffy said, frowning as she rubbed a hand across Faith’s back. “Are you coming down with a cold on me?”
“Five by five, B.” Faith shrugged coolly, rubbing her nose roughly. “Just a coupla’ sneezes. Nothin’ to get excited about.”
Buffy nodded, but couldn’t help thinking that she had never seen Faith sneeze even once before. That in itself was odd, but as slayers they were both preternaturally healthy most of the time. Of more concern to Buffy was the cool and distant attitude with which Faith was now gathering her things and exiting the library. Had she done something to upset her fellow slayer? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Faith if she was okay, but then thought better of it. If she’d learned anything in this relationship, it was that pissed-off-Faith needed both time and space before she could talk about her feelings. Otherwise she’d feel threatened, and Buffy knew she’d make no headway. She’d just have to wait ‘till slaytime, and hope that, whatever was causing her to walk out the door with a curt “Later,” she’d be ready to talk about it then.
Buffy had long ago given up on her French notes, feeling too restless to study, and had instead decided to make a batch of her special coconut brownies for after patrol. Faith loved them, and Buffy loved to spoil her. Everyone’s a winner, she thought cheerfully as she pulled them out of the oven. She had just finished cleaning up the counter space—she hated when her mom came home and had a reason to nag her, and she suspected Joyce hated it, too—when Faith’s distinctive knock sounded on her front door. Grabbing her coat and Mr. Pointy, Buffy opened the door.
“Hey B. *sniff* Ready to patrol?” Buffy blinked up at Faith without saying anything. She took in her pale, sweaty face, little ringlets of her dark brown hair clinging at her hairline. Her voice was even huskier than usual, and despite the warm night air, she was shivering. Buffy pulled her inside and shut the door firmly behind them. As she led Faith by the hand up the stairs, she heard her girlfriend saying, “Uh, Buffy...I don’t know how much slaying we’re gonna get done in your bedroom. Not that your bedroom’s not one of my favorite places an’ all, but...”
“You’re sick,” Buffy said simply. “You’re not patrolling. You’re staying right here and getting the Summers’ home TLC treatment.” Her tone brokered no room for argument.
Of course, Faith had never let that stop her before. “I’m not sick, B,” she whined.
“You’re cranky too,” Buffy observed. “I don’t blame you, sweetie. A fever can make a person very cranky.” She laid her hand gently against Faith’s cheeks and forehead as she spoke, feeling the damp heat of her skin. She almost grinned, thinking how this was probably the first time ever that Faith, heat and dampness was not a combination she was happy about.
“I don’t have a fever!” Faith insisted, and Buffy almost expected her stamp her foot. “Slayers do not get fevers. Slayers do not get sick!”
“Gee, I sure wish someone would have told me that last year before I passed out in the cemetery and had to be taken to the hospital. If I’d known, I could’ve told them.” Her sarcasm, while steely, lacked sting, as she stared the taller slayer down with firm but loving eyes. “Faith, baby, you are incredibly adorable when you’re belligerent, but that does not change the fact that you are not leaving this house tonight. Sick slayers do not fight vampires. Sick slayers get dizzy and pass out at inopportune moments, and bad things happen then. Besides,” she softened, “I love you and I want to take care of you. I hate seeing you not feeling good. Please, baby, please let me take care of you.”
They started at each other for a few moments before Faith crumbled. “’K,” she sighed. “You go patrol. *sniff* I’ll be here when you get back.” She sat down on Buffy’s bed looking miserable, shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Un-uh,” Buffy shook her head as she went into her closet, coming back with her favorite, flannel yummy-sushi pajamas and handing them to Faith. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself, silly.”
“But...” Faith stuttered, confused and incredulous, “patrol? Vampires? Unspeakable evil, unleashed on the world if not slayed in a timely manner? Any of this ringing a bell, B?”
Buffy calmly picked up the phone while Faith watched with interest, pulling off her clothes and getting into the comfy PJ’s. “Giles?” she said after a moment. “Hey. It’s me. You get to patrol tonight. Rouse the gang. Give them crumpets. Have fun.” Without giving him a chance to respond, Buffy hung up. Turning, she took in the sight of her girlfriend wearing her pajamas, and thought her heart might actually burst with love. Faith looked so cute in flannel sushi; it was so different from the pajamas she usually wore...well, now that Buffy thought about it, Faith usually didn’t wear pajamas at all. Not that she was complaining, but now was not the time for those thoughts. Right now, all she felt was tenderness. She ran her hand through sweat-soaked locks.
“Want a coconut brownie?” She asked hopefully.
“Un-uh,” Faith shook her head listlessly. “Not really hungry.” Then she blinked, her face scrunching up adorably, and sneezed hard.
“Poor baby,” Buffy murmured. The tender feeling in her chest expanded to fill her ribcage, her stomach, and almost made her throat constrict as she watched Faith sniffle, rubbing her nose on the back of her sleeve. She had never seen anything so vulnerable in her life as Faith was at this moment; never felt such a strong need to protect and care for anyone. Impulsively, she gathered Faith into her arms and kissed her hot forehead, holding her tight. Faith stiffened at first, but gradually relaxed into Buffy’s arms.
“Okay,” Buffy sighed finally, “let’s go downstairs and get you comfy on the couch. You can pick some fluffy movie for us to watch, and I’ll make you some nice hot tea. But first you have to take some NyQuil,” she said firmly.
Faith, beyond arguing at this point and too exhausted to try, allowed herself to be led to the Summers’ living room, and tucked into the couch with much fussing, and what she thought was a ridiculous number of pillows and blankets. She had to admit, it was comfy, especially because she felt achy all over, as if she’d taken a beating or ten.
“Thanks,” she said softly as Buffy finished settling her down and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Anytime.”
When Joyce finally arrived home, it was past midnight. She had been in LA, appraising paintings for the gallery, and was surprised to find not just Buffy, but Faith as well, asleep on the couch in front of the flickering television. Kleenex and several half-drunk mugs of tea were scattered on the coffee table. She looked at the two girls, wrapped snugly together under the blankets, and decided not to wake them. She was just moving to turn off the television when Buffy stirred.
“Mom?”
“Hi Sweetheart,” Joyce whispered, not wanting to wake the other slayer. “What are you doing down here?”
“Taking care of my sick girlfriend,” Buffy said simply.
“Oh,” Joyce said, not missing a beat. “Well, honey, it’s probably too late for this, but try not to catch it, okay? No kissing for a few days, if you can manage.”
“Uh...” Buffy stared at her mother blankly.
“Oh, Buffy, it’s all right. Do you honestly think a mother can’t tell when her child is in love? Just don’t wait too much longer to tell your friends. It isn’t fair to Faith.” With that, Joyce kissed the top of Buffy’s head and bayed her goodnight, leaving one dumbstruck slayer staring straight ahead, and the other, nestled in her arms, blinking her eyes open with a huge, dopey smile on her face.
Faith awoke with a pounding head. For a moment she had no idea where she was or what was going on; why she hurt so much. Then she opened her eyes and saw the Summers’ living room, and remembered. Coming over the night before to get Buffy for patrol; Buffy not letting her leave. Buffy taking care of her. Faith rubbed her eyes and swallowed, which she immediately regretted as her throat seemed to catch fire. The sudden sensation brought back a flood of memories from the night before: some time in the darkness of early morning, she had woken up coughing, her throat hurting. Then Buffy was there holding something to her lips, a hot drink that took the pain away. She had fallen back to sleep almost immediately, dimly aware of Buffy cooing to her and stroking her hair as she faded.
She burned with humiliation as she remembered; she couldn’t believe she’d let Buffy see her so weak and pathetic. You definitely wore out your welcome, she told herself, thinking there was no way Buffy would want to see her now, after she kept her up half the night—she’d gotten up, obviously, and had probably gone to school already, anyway. Faith swung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up quickly. A wave of dizziness rolled over her, and she put her hand to her head to steady herself. Get dressed, loser, she scorned herself.
That was how Buffy found her when she came in carrying a breakfast tray a few minutes later. “Hey,” she said gently, seeing Faith with her head in her hand, and ran immediately to her side, the tray forgotten. “Easy, baby. Take it slow. You going to the bathroom? You can lean on me...”
“No, B, just getting my stuff together.”
“Why?”
“Gettin’ outta your hair.” Faith coughed, swaying slightly. “Back to the motel.”
“Huh?” Buffy blinked at her incredulously for a moment. “You must really be delirious if you think I’m letting you go anywhere like this.”
Faith flinched. “Look, B, it’s cool. You don’t have to baby-sit me. I can handle it.”
“Yeah, you’re handling it real well now,” Buffy said angrily. “I thought we got past this last night.”
Faith opened her mouth to tell Buffy to back the hell off. Instead, she burst into tears. Immediately, Buffy’s arms were around her, holding her close and wrapping a blanket around them both.
“I thought you were gonna hate me after last night,” Faith whimpered, burying her head in Buffy’s hair.
“I could never, ever hate you, Fai,” Buffy soothed her. “What could make you think that? That I would hate taking care of you? There’s nothing I want to do more.”
“It’s just...” Faith’s voice was choked. She seemed unable to continue.
“...No one ever has,” Buffy whispered, as the realization hit her.
The four year-old stood trembling in front of the living room couch, willing her mother to wake up. She hurt and she didn’t understand why, and she needed her mother to make it better. But her mother was asleep, with the sour breath—the mommy with sour breath was the mean mommy, and Faith was afraid of her. But it hurt so much. She needed her mommy.
“Mommy,” she whispered, arms wrapped around herself tightly. Then, louder, “Mommy, please wake up.”
Her mother snorted, and rolled over, but stayed asleep.
“Mommy,” Faith began to cry.
“Huh, wha’s th’matter?” Her mother finally mumbled, her hand reaching out to find her daughter.
Relief flooded through Faith’s trembling little body as she felt her mother’s hand on her arm.
“My tummy hurts, Mommy.”
“Uh-hmmm...” Her mother’s hand dropped, and she went limp. Faith shook her, hard, afraid for her to fall back to sleep and leave her alone.
“Goddammit!” The taller figure jerked up. “WHAT?”
Faith gave a tiny moan and threw up all over the floor. When she was finished, her mother backhanded her, sending her to the ground in a heap.
“Clean this up, you dirty little troll,” the voice said from above her head, before stumbling away to the bedroom. Crying, still holding her stomach, the four year-old stood up on trembling legs, and began to move slowly toward the kitchen for some paper towels. When, a few minutes later, she began to feel sick again, a stab of fear shot through her and she raced for the bathroom, hoping she would make it and not get her mom mad again.
“...Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Buffy whispered. “I...I never knew how bad it was for you.” She was still holding Faith tight, one arm rubbing her back while the other ran soothingly through her hair. “You should never have had to go through any of that. Moms are supposed to make you chicken soup and tell you stories when you’re sick, not hit you. I mean...they’re never supposed to hit you.”
“Yeah, well...” Faith mumbled, uncomfortable. “I can take care of myself. I always have.”
“I know.” Buffy looked deeply into her eyes, the hand that had been playing in her hair moving to caress her cheek. “But you don’t have to anymore. Now, we take care of each other.”
The sincerity and love in Buffy’s eyes filled Faith with a feeling she hadn’t felt in so long, she hardly even remembered it—trust. She had always loved Buffy, from the moment she’d set eyes on her that very first night at the Bronze. But trust—well, she’d never really been able to trust anyone, because at heart she just didn’t believe that she was worth it. If she let her guard down all the way, she’d always assumed she’d be scorned and abused for her weakness. But now, looking into the eyes of the girl she loved more than life itself, she knew she could never, ever feel that way about Buffy if their positions were reversed. Was it so hard to believe that Buffy loved her the way she loved Buffy?
“You…you really want to take care of me? Even when I’m all snotty and gross?”
“Yup,” Buffy replied immediately, grinning stupidly. “And that’s not all.” The smile remained, but her eyes grew serious as things began to fall into place in the older slayer’s mind. “I want everyone to know that you’re mine…and I’m yours. That is, if you want that too…” Buffy trailed off, suddenly having caught the shy bug.
“Of course I want that!” Faith exclaimed, wincing slightly at the strain on her unhappy throat. She swallowed against the pain, but that just made her break into a coughing jag. Buffy got up quickly and went to retrieve her tray, placing it on the coffee table, and picking up a gently steaming mug.
“Drink a little of this, baby,” she encouraged her dark haired counterpart, who was trying somewhat unsuccessfully to catch her breath. Faith managed a few sips, which seemed to appease the sore throat demons enough for her to get her bearings. Buffy smoothed her hair back, her fingers grazing gently across Faith’s cheek as she took a few more sips.
“Damn, this is the nastiest thing I’ve ever been happy to taste. What is it?” Faith asked, sinking back into the couch.
“It’s TheraFlu, and it’s good for you,” Buffy said in a very mother-hennish voice. “I’m sorry it tastes so nasty. I put some honey in it, but maybe I should’ve put in more?” The concern in her voice made Faith smile.
“Nah, s’okay. It’s helping.” Buffy smiled at Faith’s smile, and for several moments they stayed like that, exchanging gentle touches and feeding off each other’s happiness. “What I meant to say before I was so rudely interrupted by…uh…myself…” Buffy giggled at this. “…was that I want the whole world to know you’re my girl.”
“Yeah?” Buffy asked hopefully.
“Oh yeah,” Faith felt a blush rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with her fever. “Otherwise, how could I ask you to be my date for the Homecoming dance?”
Buffy’s eyes lit up as she threw herself into her girlfriend’s arms.
“Ooof,” Faith groaned as she was suddenly enveloped by a hundred and ten pounds of blonde slayer. “Um, is that a yes?”
“Yes, you big dolt.” Buffy was still smiling like it was Christmas morning and all the puppies in the world were curled up at her feet. “But before I get to Homecoming on the arm of the most beautiful woman in Sunnydale, we gotta feed you. A slayer needs her strength, you know.” Buffy reached over to the coffee table and picked up another item from the tray, a bowl of something light brown and gooey.
“Not hungry, B,” Faith groaned, rubbing her eyes. She wasn’t used to this much emotional outpouring, and her already stressed-out body was beginning to shut down again from exhaustion.
“Fai, c’mon. You know you have to eat. Your body needs energy so you can get better.”
“I like it when you call me Fai,” the sleepy slayer murmured, her eyes getting heavy.
Buffy was torn. She wanted to let her girl sleep, but she knew her slayer’s healing powers wouldn’t be able to do their job without fuel. Hell, even if she was healthy, lack of food could make her sick. Their metabolisms put the hummingbird to shame, and she was trying very hard not to let Faith’s lack of appetite freak her out in the extreme. She picked up the bowl of cream of wheat, and the spoon, scooping out a small mouthful.
“Just open up, okay honey?”
Faith, too sleepy to argue, opened her mouth and let Buffy feed her. The blond slayer managed to get about half of the hot cereal down her partner’s throat before she slipped into a deep sleep. Buffy set the bowl back down on the tray, leaning forward and kissing Faith’s forehead with something like reverence as she pulled the blankets up around her. She felt humbled, hell, she felt honored that she was the one that Faith had chosen to let get this close to her. She knew that no one else had ever taken care of Faith like this; and if she had her way, no one else ever would.
Morning slowly gave way to afternoon as Buffy sat watch over Faith, catching up on her math homework as her girlfriend slept. For the most part she slept soundly; occasionally she would cough or sniffle, but she didn’t wake up. It almost broke Buffy’s heart when Faith began to whimper and cry, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. But Buffy had soothed her, feeling her own tears fall as Faith called out, “No Mommy, please! I’m sorry! Please don’t!” Buffy swore, if the woman who called herself Faith’s mother weren’t already dead, she’d put a stake in her worthless, so-called human heart. Instead, she rained gentle kisses on her love’s sleeping face, murmuring that she was safe now, that nothing would ever hurt her again, that she was loved and cherished. As she calmed, the sleeping slayer reached out and curled her hand into Buffy’s shirt, keeping her close in an unconscious yearning for the comfort of her lover’s body. Buffy, for her part, wasn’t about to complain, and she began singing softly as she curled up at Faith’s side.
“There are places I remember…all my life, though some have changed…” It was one of her favorite lullabies, she remembered her father singing to her when he tucked her in as a child. Her dad loved the Beatles, and she was always soothed by their gentler ballads. Faith seemed to be soothed, as well.
“Though I know I’ll never lose affection, for people and things, that went before…I know I’ll often stop and think about them…in my heart, I love you more…”
Minutes or hours later, both slayers were roused by the clang of the doorbell. Disoriented, Buffy sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, glancing over to see her girlfriend’s chocolate eyes blinking open as well. She placed a quick kiss on her temple before standing up with a stretch to see who was at the door.
Not surprisingly, she found Willow standing on her front porch, looking concerned. “Hey Wills,” she smiled, opening the door wider to let her friend in. Willow took in Buffy’s sleep-rumpled appearance, and frowned.
“Hey, Buffy…I came to see if you were okay, cause of the whole, missing patrol, and not being in school thing, and I brought your homework, too, even though I wasn’t sure you’d want to do it if you were sick…are you sick? Did I wake you up?” Buffy giggled at her friend’s trademark rambling, pulling her into the house and patting her arm reassuringly.
“Nope, I’m the picture of slayeriffic health. But Faith’s a mess; she caught that flu bug that’s been going around. Mom let me stay home today to take care of her, since it’s Friday, anyway.”
“Oh…” Willow nodded as she handed Buffy her assignments. Buffy had missed school to take care of Faith? Miss I’m-so-tough-in-my-leather-jacket Faith? Willow smiled weakly, as a wave of jealousy at the slayers’ ever-increasing closeness washed over her. “That’s…that’s nice of you, Buffy. You’re a really good friend.”
As they talked, Buffy led Willow into the living room, where Faith was sitting up and rolling the stiffness out of her shoulders from sleeping on the couch all day.
“Hey Red,” she said hoarsely.
Willow was stunned. She had never seen Faith look less tough. Suddenly she felt like a complete jerk for her moment of jealousy, as she took in the pallor of the younger slayer’s face. Even her lips were pale, her trademark dark lipstick nowhere to be seen. The only color anywhere in her face was her nose, which was red from rubbing.
“Faith, you look like shit.” Ironically, this inspired a quirky grin in the dark haired slayer.
“Thanks, Red. Good to know I can count on ya for an honest opinion.” Buffy giggled, and Willow smiled sheepishly as she sat down on the love seat, while Buffy sat next to Faith on the couch, taking her hand. While still battling her feelings of jealousy, and left-behind-ness that Buffy’s friendship with Faith inspired, she couldn’t really begrudge Faith the kindness she so obviously needed. She didn’t want to be the meanie, it made her feel...well…mean. She decided that in order to reverse this, she would do something extra-nice, like offer to go get videos and ice cream so they could have a relaxing movie night. Maybe she could grab Xander and Oz on the way back, too…and maybe even Cordy, since she was being nice. She was about to offer this to the room, but was interrupted by Faith sneezing, her nose crinkling adorably behind her hands.
“Bless you, baby,” Buffy said sympathetically, handing her a box of Kleenex from the table. Faith grabbed the offered tissues, sneezing several times more before she could croak out a feeble thanks.
Willow frowned in confusion. Baby? She knew Buffy was very affectionate; she always had been. But…baby? She blinked at the picture the two slayers made on the couch, Faith sniffling bashfully while Buffy smiled at her and stroked her pajama-clad leg. Willow raised her eyebrow, readying her ‘resolve face’ and determined to get some answers. Buffy glanced over at her, and suddenly looked as bashful as Faith.
“Uh…” Buffy was blushing like mad now, and seemed at a loss for words.
“Buffy,” Willow said sternly, “was there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Yes!” Buffy exclaimed sincerely. “I did! I did want to tell you. I was really just about to tell you, I mean, we were gonna tell you…” she trailed off, looking at Faith. “Sorry, baby, I know it’s not exactly the best time…but you just make such a cute face when you’re all sneezy, I really couldn’t help myself.”
Willow grinned mischievously as she began to put the pieces together. “She does have a cute sneezy face, doesn’t she?”
Faith was the one blushing like mad at this point. “Okay,” she groaned huskily, “now that we’re all agreed about how fricken’ adorable I am when I’m covered in snot…” she looked up at Willow with her big brown eyes full of trepidation. Then she took Buffy’s hand. “Are you cool with this, Red?”
“Oh, Faith, of course I am!” The redhead in question replied enthusiastically. “It’s perfect! I mean, the Chosen Two…you, you were made for each other, you know? And now I don’t have to be jealous, ‘cause I’m still the best friend.” Willow said this part rather bashfully, feeling now twice as stupid for her previous jealousy.
Buffy, however, didn’t seem to think it was stupid, as she launched herself at the redhead, hugging her within an inch of her life.
“Oxygen…becoming an issue…” Willow squeaked, and was quickly released by the still smiling slayer.
“You know you’ll always be my best friend, silly-willy,” Buffy laughed at her own bad pun.
“Yeah…I guess I’ve been a victim of the green-eyed monster lately, and you know I have a handicap, ‘cause I’ve already got green eyes.” Faith giggled, surprising both Buffy and Willow.
“What?” Faith said, shrugging. “I figure the whole tough girl thing is pretty much out the window, now that you’ve both seen me wearing yummy-sushi pajamas…I can be girly too, sometimes. But don’t you go spreadin’ that around, Red!” She put on an extra-mean, but somehow very fake scowl that sent them all into hysterics. This of course made Faith cough, and Willow watched as Buffy rubbed her back soothingly, handing her a glass of water and helping her drink. She had never seen either of them so tender with anyone else, and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was forever. Then she felt sad for a moment, because she realized that what she had with Oz…while it was good…it wasn’t forever. She wondered if she’d ever have anything like the slayers had found. She also wondered why the girl/girl thing wasn’t freaking her out, at all.
Shrugging off her momentary melancholy, Willow roused herself and made her offer of movies and ice cream, which was enthusiastically received.
“But, no ice cream, Faith can’t have that,” Buffy said in a frighteningly mom-like voice.
“Awww, B!” Faith pouted, another adorable expression that Willow had never expected to see the dark slayer wear.
“No dairy till you’re better,” Buffy said firmly. “You’re coughing up a swimming pool as it is. Will can get popsicles.” Faith continued to pout, and Willow watched her best friend’s eyes soften until she looked about ready to melt. “We’ll get good popsicles, okay baby? Whatever kind you want. The kind that change colors, or the rocket pops with the red, white and blue, you love those…” Buffy stroked Faith’s hair as she spoke, then began to drop kisses on her temple and cheek.
“…Okay,” Faith agreed, sighing as she nuzzled closer to Buffy’s touch, closing her eyes.
“Goddess, you two really are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Willow grinned as she watched them. “Are you gonna tell the guys? ‘Cause, cause I don’t think I can bring them over if you’re not…you can’t keep your hands off each other!”
The slayers smiled bashfully at each other, both asking each other silently if they were ready.
“Fai?”
“Ready when you are, girlfriend.”
Buffy continued to smile as she turned to Willow, gripping Faith’s hands tightly in her own. “Get the guys, Will. Cause these slayers are ready to rock!”