While You Were Sleeping
by Kelly Smith
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: I'm slacking on the updates again. I know this. Will try and be quicker.
Dedicated: AR-SENAL... AR-SENAL... AR-SENAL...
We are mighty and strong. And in the semi-finals of the Champions League.
I love the Arse.
Enjoy :)
The basement collapsed into silence as Giles finally took the time to run his eyes fully over the girl that he had so long ago bidden a farewell to. Never expecting to have her standing in front of him again, never suspecting that she would wake from something that had seemed so solid in its finality. In the beginning he had been concerned, had kept almost as keen an eye as Buffy on the patient. Not a first hand eye though, he was not one for the personal visits; but he had kept himself well informed on the situation.
He knew what the doctors had said. He waited for the slayer healing to kick in and prove them wrong. And after over a year of waiting, he accepted that nothing was going to heal the coma that seemed never ending. At Buffy’s death he had wondered again…
Silent meanderings he would never share with the youth of the group, just private thoughts… would Faith awake? Could she be the slayer that they so desperately needed? But no. That was one time when he did stop by to see her in person, observing the monotone beeping of the machines, observing the pale listlessness he would never ever have associated with Faith. She would never wake up. He had been certain of that.
“So what’s the what, you just come to stare, or you got something to say?”
That same voice edged with roughness, reminding him that even certainties were never really certain. That sometimes events could never be determined before they came to pass. Sobering thoughts indeed for a man who resided his mind in prophesies and predictions.
“I was hoping Faith, that we might discuss how you’re feeling. How your healing is coming along. Buffy tells me that you‘re getting stronger…”
“Does she?”
And Faith couldn’t give a crap about anything he had to say, any way he had to look at her. Look down on her. All of Faith’s focus was routing around the Watcher to hone in on her prey. The day’s first *real* glance, the moment’s first look. Not dipping green, not tinting pinks; eyes wide open. Gaze straight ahead.
“Yes. I have to say you’re looking much better than when we first left Sunnydale.”
“I heard I caught the last bus outta town. Way Andrew tells it, I’d be at the bottom of a rubble pit if I hadn’t woken up then. Timing’s a bitch, huh?”
Words which made him stutter on a breath, toss a look Buffy’s way before he met her eyes again. “We didn’t know that events were going to become quite so destructive Faith, obviously had we been prepared, we would have…”
“Made sure you tied me to the bed before you flew the coop? Damn, bet my arrival’s messed up the old victory parade.” She hardened her eyes as another of those disappointed looks made its way to Giles’ face. Letting the smile raise sarcastic across her lips as she offered sweet sentiments. “Least this way we all get to bury the hatchet and start fresh, right? Can’t wait to be buddies again G-man, it’ll be just like old times - gotta say the cage is a step down from my old apartment, probably got the nod over the motel though.”
Remember the motel Giles? Shit no. Giles only went to Buffy’s house to wine and dine. The idea of eating crap out of a takeout carton while sitting on a flea infested bed, had never really appealed to him. Least that’s the way that Faith saw it. Never had any tales to tell it different.
“Faith, Giles is here to try and help. Maybe you could strap down the attitude and give him a chance?”
She let her eyes linger longer this time. Pretending at considering, pretending she gave a fuck whether Buffy was happy or not. There was in fact only one feeling that Faith wanted Buffy to feel, and it was nowhere close to happy. Nothing to do with smiling. “Sure, carry on Giles. You left me for dead, we’ll call it bygones. So how have you been?”
“Let’s focus on how you’ve been Faith. I can see your charm and wit are back in spades, what about physically? Buffy mentioned that you still bore the scar from…”
Say it Giles. Say it.
“…the *incident* before graduation.”
“The incident? What incident was that?”
“I trust you know full well what I am referring to. Have you noticed any fading yet, has your slayer healing hastened the progress since you woke up?”
She caught his eyes in a stare and waited for him to look away. Running the knife through her head again, running the knife through her side again. Only he didn’t look away, he pinned her with as much focus as she had hoped to discomfort him with. Feeling her own skin itching, her own defences being tested…
“Yeah.”
“Yes what?”
Speaking anything to have him stop staring. “The scar’s fading, slayer healing’s kicked in.”
“Right, jolly good. What about the other aspects of slaying, have you felt any particular urges which the coma may have repressed?”
And Faith knew what he was asking. Had she felt the fizz, the running of electric through her veins which signalled the start of a fight, the sensation that slid down her spine when a vamp was looking to be dusted. The feeling that her body craved every night when the sun went down, the feeling that her blood demanded as the moon came up. To slay.
“Urges?”
Never too frigid to talk about what the slaying did to her, how it had affected her. Never too fucking golden to admit that darkness mixed tight with desire. That every kill released a need to be alive, to free the energy, to release the tension. Eyes flicking, fingers tapping. Never scared to call it what it was, never scared to admit what it was she needed…
“Faith?”
Looking at her now. Being looked at. And Buffy knew, Faith was certain. She had always known. Eyebrows igniting that look called lust.
“Sure Giles. I got urges.” Blinking on the instant to crystallise it in her mind, letting the tiniest reminder of that feeling lace an expression of want around her lips. “A body knows what it needs. What it craves. A little close contact, some hard hitting one on one…”
“Right. Yes… I imagine after four years, that element of slayer power is rather overdue a workout. Perhaps Buffy, we could set up a training regime down here, obviously nothing like sparring…”
“You want Buffy to give me a workout?”
Had he missed the meaning? Were his collars really that starched? And did it really matter when Buffy had caught her meaning with such sweet perfection? Her eyes locked again, but not pinning her down… oh no, pulling her closer. The bars in easy reaching distance, her hands finding a grip that would’ve crushed metal if it wasn’t tainted by magic.
“You might find it helps to release some of the tension which you seem so determined to hold onto. I can only imagine how difficult this present situation is for you Faith; waking up to find everything changed, trying to come to terms with everything that…”
“You think star jumps are gonna resolve that?”
Because really? He was Giles, all wise and watchful… and he was suggesting some kind of Jane Fonda workout session?
“What do you think Buffy; is it practical to have Faith begin some kind of training routine, something to focus on other than…”
Losing the words again. Faith not caring again. Still wanting to know every word that was gonna fall wasted from Buffy’s lips. What grand back up plan she had in store for when the star jumps didn’t release the tension.
“I think Faith needs another shower.”
“Sounds good to me. You gonna wash my back this time?”
“I meant of the cold variety.”
Not wasted words. Precious words. Words which let Faith know that her interpretation of urges had been fully understood by Buffy. That she had set the flame that would start the fire. Watching Buffy now, there was still nothing dipping about her gaze - it was the opposite of dipping. Meeting Faith’s cocksure, smart ass stare with every ounce of maturity she had gained over four years of downtime. Buffy may not have appreciated this thing called desire, but she sure as hell wasn’t gonna be embarrassed by it anymore. Wasn’t gonna let it dictate the pace of the train wreck.
Something that no amount of downtime could have prepared Faith for. She had been so sure that she could trip Buffy with the same moves, the same meanings as she had always used; wasn’t prepared for the look that knew no mercy as it rooted her to the spot, as it made her fists wrap even tighter around the bars for reasons which had her taut emotions instantly more unsettled.
Flashes of different feelings. When the want, the take and the have were nothing to do with destruction. Just the simplicity of the action.
“Faith, is there anything else you wish to discuss?”
Not hearing. Still held. A thousand thoughts pinning her down, mind shattering as it tried to comprehend how this fit into her plan, how this fit into anything.
“Dreams.”
“Pardon me?”
A fragment, a wisp passing by on the breeze. Somewhere that Faith knew the hurt still resided. Would always reside. “I’ve been having these dreams.”
No cocksurety to her words, no hint of harshness to her tone. No footing that felt like level. Winging it. Straightening as she felt the advantage swing back her way, as Buffy’s eyes did show something other than composure, something other than a willingness to meet her head on.
“What kind of dreams; do you mean slayer dreams?”
“Dunno Giles. What’s a slayer dream?”
“Buffy sometimes has them, they’re prophetic in nature, a forewarning of bad things.” She watched him hesitate, his eyes almost excited as they considered the thought of something prophetic. “Perhaps you could enlighten me to their content?”
“Huh?”
“What happens in the dreams, Faith?”
“Right.” Knowing that. Knowing what happens. Focusing for the first time on how it felt in the beginning. “It starts off someplace real nice; got me a sweet deal with a double bed, clean sheets and maid service. Serious Giles, I’m thinking I’ve landed my ass in heaven, the place is so bitching. I’m kicking back, everything’s going great…”
A stare being met. Buffy‘s gaze wrapping tight around her own. Remembering. Putting her in place, making her vulnerable. Faith would strike first.
“…right until the part where it turns out it’s all bullshit. Ain’t nothing like salvation there, G-man, nothing but the same old crap. Hunting me down, chasing me through a fucking graveyard. All fire and brimstone, big lust for my blood…”
“Did you… the thing chasing you, did you happen to see what kind of creature it was?”
“Wasn’t no creature. Can’t you guess what it was? Come on Giles, I always figured you were shit hot with the explanations.” Glasses off. Eyes down. “It was Buffy, you moron. Your precious fucking Buffy. She tell you about that - how she chases me down every night to collect her pound of flesh, how she smiles all fucking sweet as she slides the knife in again and again…”
“I don’t think…”
“Fuck you with your thinking. You think I care a crap about training regimes and slayer urges? You think I wanna work anything out with your piece of shit golden girl, other than how to make her suffer half as much as I have..?”
“Shut up Faith.”
Fire and brimstone.
Edged in ice, carved from granite. Buffy had stood and listened to every word which had fallen from Faith’s mouth, and she had watched every shade of darkness cross her eyes as they had blackened. Urges at first. She had fought that battle and won it. Had choked for the last time on that level of submission. Buffy would not be controlled by a desire that had always left her at a disadvantage, would not allow Faith to gain the upper hand by way of default. She was stronger than that. She was older than that.
And this. This twisting of a dream which had been Buffy’s basis for diagnosis; Faith had shared her space in heaven and that had seemed more important than sharing Faith’s place in hell. Not so sure now though, not so sure that this sequence of events didn’t determine things a little better… that she should be playing the game from Faith’s angle. Seeing who landed on top. Wearing Willow’s words with a face full of resolve and strength.
Smiling a return to the snarl, turning her smile Giles’ way.
“Looks like this was a wasted trip, huh? And there was me arguing the non-psychotic point of view.”
“Fuck you, B.”
“No Faith. Fuck you.” Finally letting the slayer take the fore, finally showing Faith that if a game was there to be played, then Buffy was going to win it. She would bend over backwards to accommodate the chance for Faith to have a shot at getting her life back - but she would not break herself to accommodate anyone. “I’m done playing nice to placate the many personalities of Faith. Yes F, I stabbed you. Let’s remind ourselves how you went psycho and were killing for fun, hey? Let’s remind ourselves what *you* pushed me into doing…”
“Let me the fuck out!”
Seeing that contempt rise, feeling the urge to strike.
“No. You’re better off staying in there until you have all of your strength back. Cos when I eventually kick your ass for all of this crap; it’s *really* gonna hurt. Big hurt. Way big…”
“You are so fucking dead.”
“Wrong again Faith. I’ve been dead. Twice in fact- another thing you missed out on. This is me, alive and well, channelling the happy thoughts. You’re the one playing at dead, hiding behind something that is so stuck in the past.” Her footsteps had led her the same way as her bottled up rage. Inches from bars which she also wished were not there. Just one touch, something to smash one iota of sense into the rage machine in front of her. “It was four years ago Faith. Get over it.”
Breathing it into her space, feeling the return moisture of panted air falling across her lips. So much tension. So much which called for more than star jumps, which screamed for someone to remove the fucking barriers which kept them both caged.
“Buffy, perhaps we should leave this conversation for now…” The watcher not needing to see anymore, not needing further proof of Buffy’s igniting abilities. “…I’ll return to talk to Faith when the situation has calmed down.”
“Faith doesn’t do calm, that’s too easy.”
Eyeball to eyeball. Endless months of endless emotions venturing forward to replace the softly, softly approach that had generated only more harshness. Let Xander play nice. Buffy was through playing. Not wanting to move away, wanting to raise her fist and smash the space through the bars, wanting to wipe that look from the face that she wanted to see bathed in smiles.
She was so angry at Faith for refusing to be Faith. So angry with her for denying the existence of the person that Buffy so ached to see. The one she cared about. The one she had affection for. Just dark pits staring back at her. The psychotic look she had first seen in the dark and dingy motel room.
“Buffy?”
“I’m coming.”
Not turning her back and walking away, accepting the gauntlet. Eyes flashing with the thing that Faith wished for as she slowly put distance between them.
Holding hands and words of truth had done nothing to ease a path to recovery, and Buffy was becoming exhausted from the trying. Not only that;
Faith was *really* starting to piss her off.
The two heads that left the basement were both spiralling off in completely different directions. Giles hadn’t expected anything else from Faith, had known that the battle to bring her back towards sane, was going to be a long and hard fought one. He could take her anger and shouts of injustice, he could stand strong in the face of her pain. He had endless age and experience on his side. A lifetime of watching; his own forays into the darker side of good. Yes. Everything that Giles had seen, had assured him that Faith needed help, and that she needed help from someone other than Buffy.
Buffy herself was still feeling the electric flowing currents that ran through her veins, signalling the start of a fight. Expecting more from Faith. Tasting the disappointment. Fighting to shake off a vibe which would see many unfortunate demons perish in the dark streets of LA when the moon eventually rose.
It was the bastardisation of the dream that had Buffy relying on the physical to dictate the new pace of the impending disaster. A dream that Faith had denied when it suited her to, that she had then remembered and twisted to fit the situation when Buffy hadn’t fallen at the first hurdle.
Desire and lust. Something a slayer didn’t shy away from. Something a slayer thrived upon. Buffy had touched that truth, had tasted and revelled in it on those dark nights with Spike. And Faith would not trip her with that hurdle again.
There were no more hurdles. The spiral coming to a halt on the memory of Kennedy’s words. Letting her out.
Buffy had tried to offer forgiveness with friendship. The slayer didn’t know the meaning of such soft words. The slayer wanted to cut the deck and deal with the consequences. The slayer wanted action.
“Buffy..?”
Not hearing concern in words when her thoughts were still raging in the basement, still smashing a way through those bars to fulfil her desire for Faith.
“How do you think that went?”
“Huh?”
Pausing in the daylight of the lobby, catching eyes which tried to soften a feeling.
“With Faith.”
“Are you kidding me? It went the way it always goes. It’s kinda hopeless.”
“On the contrary Buffy, I’d say it was rather fruitful in its outcome. It’s about time you offered Faith some home truths…”
“Home truths? I was thinking more domestic violence; that could help, right?”
“I think it’s admirable that you’re still so concerned with helping her, after all she seems intent on putting you through; but the inability to call her on her past mistakes was becoming…”
“Boring.”
“No Buffy, more tiresome. Faith has to accept what she has done before you can ever hope to have her overcome that period from her past. Letting her forget the part she played was never going to have her looking to find forgiveness.”
“I just thought, I don’t know… I thought we could cut out some of the heartache.”
“And surely you appreciate that life is never that easy.”
Buffy appreciated everything about that. She had more than enough first hand knowledge to make endless complaints about the harshness of life. The harshness of living.
“So what do you suggest Giles, cos all I’m left with is a great big urge to go kill things. Big things. Possibly lots and lots of big things…”
Making him chuckle an amusement that she always looked to provoke in him. Making him glad that the solid stone eyes of a stone solid slayer, were being replaced by the soft eyes of Buffy. Pleased as she sighed the rage from her shoulders, pleased as her own mouth curved up into a smile.
“I suggest that slaying is a great idea. I also suggest that you heed my earlier suggestion about staying away from Faith. For a few days at least…” Ignoring the frown, using his wisdom. “…you provoke an anger in each other that isn’t going to help keep the situation calm. We’ve seen what Xander can do, we’ve seen that Faith *can* do calm and easy. Perhaps you should allow some space for Faith to digest these new…”
“What about the bathroom. What about making sure she’s fed…”
“You said yourself that everyone had ’scurried’ off and left you to deal. Now it’s our turn. I’m sure Kennedy and the girls will be on board, I’m sure that Willow will be eager to help now that the situation isn’t so dismissive of past events.”
“So this is it. You are taking my badge away again.” Her eyes weren’t incriminating him this time, still soft with feeling, turning towards acceptance, ready to receive the help that didn’t sound like instruction. “I’m sitting at the back of the bus.”
“No Buffy. You’re taking a few days break. You’re resting. You’re recuperating from another apocalypse. You’re accepting again that you have friends and we all work best when we work together.”
And where was this Giles last week, when she had been forced to leave her own home with her spirit torn and in tatters..? Buffy didn’t care. She cared only for the words which he had found now, filling the space that Spike had left to rebuild her armour. Offering a belief that they could work this out. That she was strong enough to deal.
“That was quite a rousing speech, Giles - have you been taking notes?”
“I thought you had been taking notes from me…”
Their words easy and light as they walked further away from the basement. As the last of their sounds dripped slowly down the stairs to fall into ears that were eager to hear.
The day had been a revelation for Faith.
She’d had fun times and smiles, she had bantered through breakfast. A glimpse of a past she didn’t like to examine, a glimpse of a future she couldn’t bring herself to imagine.
Easy. It had all felt too easy. And Faith had never had it easy.
The moments which had fired Faith’s soul, which had helped to reseal the fractures which ripped into her own flailing spirit; were the moments spent with Buffy. Close contact. Hard hitting one on one. Everything that she had felt the urges for. Everything that her body screamed it needed.
Howling screams. Painful screams. Close enough to breathe her breaths, close enough to feel the anger as it had pulsated harsh from her body. So tight. So close. Wrapping around every thought, blackening every need to find peace.
Faith had never been too frigid to put words to her feelings. Desire and lust, the thrill of the kill. She had always been too frigid, too rigid, to look for the softness behind the desire. To recognise the feeling behind the force.
A smile hardened her snarl as she heard them walk away with a lightness that her step had never been blessed with. Buffy could play soft, Buffy could hide behind the fucked up façade of good girls and niceness; but Faith had seen. And Faith knew.
Buffy was ready to give her everything she needed. Everything she wanted. All that she desired. Buffy was ready to get in the game.
Words which had filled Faith’s mind as the sun had set, that had placated her blood lust to hunt and to kill. To make a mockery of evil, to turn badness into dust.
Everything that Buffy was doing. Marching hell bent through the streets on a mission of destruction. Vampire? Dust. Demon? Dead. She wasn’t bantering out her frustrations, she was placating a blood lust of her own. Something that Faith had called out in her, something that Faith had always called out in her. The slayer.
Faster. Stronger. Bigger. Better. Loving the feel of the words as she sliced the scythe through badness after badness… as she showed Faith what was truly better about being them. About being chosen. No matter she couldn’t see, no matter she stayed caged beneath a building; this display was all for Faith.
Every monster slain a reminder to Buffy that *she* was not the monster. Willow’s words held sway. Faith had forced her hand. She hadn’t wanted to do it. Faith had made her do it.
More excuses for murder when it wasn’t Faith doing the murdering.
And Buffy couldn’t help the laugh that carried her aching arms through the doors to The Hyperion sometime close to the middle of the night. She really did want to get with the feel of superiority, really did want to step back and let Giles rein in the one that she had wanted to hold onto. She couldn’t dismiss the feelings though. Couldn’t stand scared behind words which had been earned through experience.
Desire and lust. A slayer thrived on them. She crafted them and made them tools in her artillery. Weapons to be wielded. A long hard slay inspired both, demanded both. A release of the feeling, an outlet for tension. Eyes which couldn’t help but fall onto the screen as it flickered light in the darkness. So tempted, so needing… go below, release the tension. Release Faith and ride the consequences.
Wanting to engage that fire again, wanting to stoke the still glowing embers.
As she approached the counter to retrieve the keys to the cage, her eyes caught the movement that the screen projected. The speakers projected the sound that the screen produced. Words.
And Buffy sat down. And Buffy watched and Buffy waited. Waiting to see who was with Faith, who had her speaking in calm tones against the backdrop of Buffy’s pent up feelings.
Nostrils flaring, pupils dilating. Urges rising.
Angel.
It took more than a moment for Buffy to comprehend what it was that she was seeing. Every other feeling that she had been seeking to repress, every other problem which had been ripping at the tattered frays of her unravelling mind; here. There. Before her on the screen. Doing nothing to relieve her tension, nothing to stop the electricity prickling at every inch of skin which covered every inch of straining muscle. Stretched taut and tight, tense with desire.
Angel.
And what the hell?
Had she not told him, had she not explicitly warned him about journeying back into her space? Had her eyes not shone dark enough, had he not felt the sharpness of her pointed words? Obviously not. Because if he had, then surely he wouldn't be downstairs now.
That tone of placation echoing with the turning of the volume knob, the slow steadiness of his words which sought to soothe even the deepest of cuts. Which caused the deepest of cuts. Offering comfort to Faith, when all he had done for Buffy, was to take her comfort away.
The warrior within wanted to rise up and strike out her vengeance. Wanted to inflict the same level of hurting that she was right now experiencing, wanted to destroy the chance of ever again suffering any further hurt. The warrior was strong and single minded. The warrior was still feeling the call of the bloodlust. The scythe residing with ease in her grasp, the breaths that flowed with deep determination from her lips.
And if everything about Buffy had been exposed in the personification of the warrior, then the morning would have welcomed a basement decorated in blood, lust and dust. But Buffy Summers was so much more than the sum of her parts, she was so much more than what destiny had determined her to be. She had control of a different kind; discipline and restraint. Years spent learning her craft, years spent learning the ways to silence the urging. The mantra that had always held her in good stead.
No.
That one word denial of everything that screamed inside for release, every dark desire that would creep unbidden to throw her from her path. Buffy Summers was not a small insignificant slice of the slayer though, the slayer was that small slice of Buffy. Some would argue the most important part; the part which held and wielded the power, the part which had saved the world on umpteen occasions. Those that knew her though, those that had crept close enough to learn of the woman inside; they would argue that the most important part was the part that wasn't hidden from the view of the outside world during the hours of daylight. The exact opposite.
None of her friends would have been surprised as she had sat down composed in front of the screen. None of them would have been taken aback by the ease with which she had pushed the scythe away from her body, across the desk, out of striking distance.
Buffy Summers was indeed one hell of a slayer. More importantly, in the words of a past observer; Buffy Summers was one hell of a woman.
As the time ticked by, it was hard for Buffy to steady her hands. At first counting off the minutes, and then - as the minutes had stretched into long past an hour- simply fussing at a hang nail which had been caused somewhere in amongst the slayage of the last two evenings. Just another war wound. Her ears not fussing on anything except the words that they had been hearing. So many words to hear.
The hurtful and hateful kind. The kind which could break a heart.
Buffy had believed that somewhere beneath all of the layers of Faith, existed the girl who had held her hands in freedom, who had met her smile with a smile as they danced carefree and unbound under the lights of the Bronze. The unrestrained force that had made her believe in so much more than just the solitude of duty.
Over the last three days her opinion had swung steadily back and forth - one minute believing that the girl still resided inside, and then in the next, wanting nothing more than to break down the barriers and destroy all that had sought to destroy the girl.
And now..?
Now she just wanted Angel to speed his long dead ass up the stairs and give her the answers that she demanded. Reaching forward to quiet the screen, ignoring the hangnail as something else had demanded the attention of the mind that wanted to fuss.
"Buffy."
Oh yes. Turning to meet and to greet. "Angel." Eyes emotionless. "What are you doing here?"
"Last I checked, this was still my building."
"Last I checked, I told you to stay out of my way. Which part of that do you need me to clarify?"
She silently repeated the resounding no, as her fingers itched to reach out and regain the scythe. Perfect for dusting vamps, perfect for performing her duty. Trying to focus on the reality behind the present situation; that Angel had always meant much more to her than just fragments of dust.
"I only came to see Faith."
"I got that. You're quite the conversationalist, aren't you?"
"You were listening?"
"Hard not to, I always was a sucker for the deep and meaningful. I think my favourite part was where you told her that her rage was justified… I mean, there was me trying to get her to quit the rage, then you come along and make it all A-OK to wanna carve me up into tiny little pieces. Kinda crazy, huh?"
"It wasn't like that…"
"Or maybe my favourite part was where you told her that she really doesn't belong in a cage - oh wait, no, that surely loses out to the soul soaring moment where you told her that you could help make her life better. Seriously Angel, were you always this full of crap?"
Buffy couldn't help but feel justified in the vilification of her former love. She had sat and she had listened to every uttering that he had offered to Faith; had sunk down in the chair as she had witnessed Faith rising, and she had seethed inside as she witnessed their connection.
"You don't understand what she's going through."
"Sure I do. Faith's woken up and realised that every bad thing she has ever done is still waiting here to haunt her. Now she wants an easy way out, she wants her payback… how am I doing?"
Angel offering no answer as Buffy stalked her way closer to his position. Rounding the counter, minimising the distance.
"She wants to play the fantasy where it's all my fault that her life is still severely of the lacking. What is it she said - she won't be happy until she sees me `flayed, splayed and kissing her ass in hell.' - Kinda touching, right?"
"She's angry."
"Join the club."
Because Buffy had anger. Just looking for a target, somewhere to find some release.
"You locked her in a cage Buffy, did you really expect that you'd get different results - that she wouldn't crave her revenge?"
"She was trying to smash my skull in! What did you want me to do; offer her cookies?"
It brought about a standoff, a moment when neither could find any other words to say - her eyes trying to understand why he hadn't taken her side, his eyes only wondering how to make it better. How to regain what he had lost.
"You know that she wants to come with me?"
"Of course she does Angel - you're head of Evil Incorporated - what wouldn't appeal to her?"
"It's not like that. She just wants a chance, the opportunity to start over…"
"She wants the easy option! She wants a room with a view and a Playstation 2! God, I can't believe this. Please tell me you didn't fall for her crap, that you didn't buy into her whole, redemption will be my mission, nonsense."
"She said that she wants to try - is that really so hard to believe?"
Yes. It really was. Because Buffy had seen. And Buffy knew. There was no way to dismiss the stares that had intruded upon her soul in those moments down below with Faith. No way for Buffy to believe that everything Faith desired was anything other than her own demise. The eyes that had always looked to seduce her with something that felt so dangerous and wrong. Every one of the words that she had just eavesdropped upon seeming dangerous and wrong.
"Faith doesn't want to try. She wants revenge. You're a fool if you think otherwise."
"Then I'm a fool, Buffy. I've been where Faith's been, I've walked the same path…"
"And just look at you now! Hardly a glowing reference, is it?" She couldn't care for the sadness that flashed through his eyes at her words. She meant every single one of them. "You may have chosen the path to all evil, Angel, but I'll be damned if you think I'm letting Faith go with you."
"It isn't your choice."
"And you think that it's yours?"
"No. It's Faith's choice, her decision. Whatever you choose to believe Buffy; we are doing good here, we're making a difference. We can help Faith, we can offer her what she needs."
"Oh really?" Her skin instantly prickling, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Imagining the worst. Remembering the image. Him and her. Her and him. No matter that it had only been a ruse, a double crossing tactic - the unbearable ache had always remained the same. "And what exactly would that be?"
"Space. Distance. A chance to clear her head."
Okay. Maybe not what she was expecting. Confusing the thought process, missing the obvious. "Distance from what?"
"From you."
"From me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You don't know?"
Skin prickling in a different way. Thoughts confused in a different way. "Don't mess with me Angel, I'm not in the mood to be messed with right now."
Grabbing for anger instead. Not prepared to examine his words in the cold light of a dawning day, to state the obvious in the starkness of the hotel lobby.
And if only he would cooperate.
"You can't pretend to me Buffy that you don't know what this is all about? Surely you've realised…"
"I told you already what this is about! She wants revenge and she wants payback. She wants me dead, she wants me buried, and she wants to dance a jig on top of my grave! Don't try twisting this, don't pretend I didn't hear all of her pretty little words…"
So close to the violence that her soul craved. Grabbing so tight to that anger. "…she's the one that's psycho! This has nothing to do with me!"
"It has everything to do with you."
Release.
Her fist flying as if of its own volition. Connecting hard and true. Denying the sound of the truth.
And sometimes it was so damn hard - being the one hell of a woman. Perhaps it was the hardest fight of all. The absolute control needed as she breathed in a breath to urge the anger away. As she looked down on Angel with a need to destroy everything that she knew he could seek to say.
Another breath taken. Another battle won.
"Sorry." Stepping down. Offering out a hand, pulling him back to his feet. "I forget my own strength sometimes."
"I might take longer to forget."
"Sorry." Anger replaced with exhaustion. With a slump to the shoulders that was accompanied by a soulful sigh. Not caring in the moment if Angel had set up shop with the devil himself. "I didn't mean to do that. I just… I…"
Just ready to break. Lost at sea and looking for a light; for her beacon in the dark. His arms offered easily, his shoulders still so perfect to rest her weight upon.
"Come on, it's okay. It didn't even hurt."
An unexpected break from the turmoil.
"You're just saying that."
"Maybe. But then you are drooling on my shoulder - I'll say anything to stem the flow."
"You sure know how to perk up a girl."
"You called me evil."
"I didn't call you evil, I called you head of Evil Incorporated - there is a difference, right?"
"I hope that you know that."
Ending the respite she had found in his arms. Pulling her head back, pulling herself back. "I hope it's the truth."
"You used to trust me Buffy. You can't trust me now?"
Recalling in a second every moment spent, every minute when she had felt assured that he was her champion. That he would always be at her side. "I want to Angel, I do - it's just hard. Everything about this seems so wrong, it doesn't make sense to me. They're evil - why would you work with them?"
"We're not working with them."
"Could have fooled me."
"We're not."
"You're not? So what? It's a double cross, a Trojan horse?"
"Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. What better way to bring down a beast, than from inside its own belly?"
And without anger tainting her view, it did make more sense than Angel turning evil and the whole of the LA crew selling out to the underworld. A lot more sense. And if only she had been prepared to listen sooner… to quiet her rage and give him the chance to explain.
If she had been asked in that moment, Buffy Summers would have probably ascertained that she could be one hell of an ass.
"Do you really think you can do it though? You don't think that they'll be expecting a betrayal? - that this is their way of keeping their own enemies closer?"
"Probably. But that's the fun part; outsmarting them. Taking them down when they least expect it. We know it won't be easy but we're willing to give it a shot. We're still the good guys Buffy, we're still fighting on your side."
She accepted the silence that he offered to digest the information; mapping out the floor with heavy pacing, re-finding that place where things were often painted in greys, where nothing was ever quite as easy as good versus evil. Maybe not believing that this was such a good plan, that they could make it work - but finding herself believing in his intentions. Finally producing a smile.
"Okay - I still think you're all crazy for going through with this; but I'm much less with the wanting to stake you now."
"There's a relief." She followed his direction as he pointed to the scythe laying easy on the counter. As he raised his eyebrow in memory of Caleb. "I remember what you can do with that thing when you're feeling frisky."
"Hey! I was never gonna use that on you!"
"Not even a little?"
And now the eyebrows raised to tease her into another smile.
"Maybe just a little. But I never would've, you know - between the legs." A smile that she kept as they made their way to sit down, as they approached the subject that was Angel's sole reason for being there. Faith. Gradually dampening down, gradually losing the sparkle. Knowing that he was waiting for her to speak the words - but still not knowing the words.
"What do you expect me to say, Angel?"
"I don't expect anything from you. I want you to say that you'll let her come with me - with us. She needs to get away from this Buffy - not just you - all of this. Everything that she remembers as bad."
"And that'll help? That'll make a difference?"
"I can't promise anything, but I believe so, yes. It's too much for her here; locked up by you, kept prisoner by you. There's going to be no chance for Faith to see past her anger when it's staring her straight in the face every day."
She wouldn't have had the energy left to argue with him even if she hadn't found renewed trust in what it was that he was saying. Only having the energy left to sigh out acceptance - to meet his eyes with a slight nod. To signal agreement.
"Where would you take her? When?"
"Tonight at sunset. We'll take her to my place. It's not perfect, but for now it will do. Wes can have the Shamen perform a binding spell, confine her to my quarters. We'll assess her from there, decide what happens next…"
"And she'll be safe?"
"Of course she'll be safe Buffy."
"Right. Of course she will." Wishing she could think of an objection, still feeling the need to not let go. To not give in. "What about visits? Will I be able to see her?"
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"Well it's not terrible. I can keep her up to date on what she's missing, remind her of the fun we used to have before she went crazy…"
She caught his look. Wanted to ignore it. "What? There was fun! Maybe hidden beneath a constant need to kill each other, but there was still fun…"
Trailing off as his look never changed.
"I know you want to help her Buffy - I do understand - but this time you can't help. These aren't your demons to slay."
"I can't do anything?"
"You can stay away. If you really want to help, if you really want Faith to have a chance, then stay away."
"But…"
But what?
Her throat aching with the need to give the truth a voice. To finally free the reasons that were never spoken out loud - to at last accept the one reality which kept her bound and tied to the bond of a chosen two. Only the words would not come. She was still not brave enough to lay herself bare in the starkness of a hotel lobby. The feelings were still enough to scare her.
"No buts Buffy, at least not for now."
Another sigh. Another nod.
One hell of a slayer. One hell of a woman. One hell of an ass.
As Buffy bid farewell to Angel and made her way up the stairs to the safety of her bedroom, the only thing that she felt like was one hell of a coward. Agreeing to let go of Faith - just like that. No word of protest, no hint of a fight.
And she hated being a coward. She refused.
Below Buffy, in the bowels of the building, there was another refusal being made. Another slayer inert with exhaustion, another mind wrapped up and held prisoner by the words of the last few hours. So many words. All words that she absolutely refused to have any belief in.
Why would she believe?
Her inbuilt fears only confounded as Angel had made his silent walk down the stairs to her cage; reeling back in fear as she had realised how vulnerable she was - a sitting duck. An immobile target.
"It's okay Faith, I'm not here to hurt you."
"Get the fuck away from me."
Forgetting the bars as he had stepped closer, hugging the walls with a desperate need to flee. To escape.
"I'm here to help."
It had been priceless. The angles of her prison remaining the same yet the angle for her escape changing within that second. She had still hugged her body close to the walls, had still kept up a charade of panic; but inside she had stilled. Had begun a slow count to infinity as his voice had launched itself into one of his soothing monologues.
Darkness, darkness, evil, evil. Rage, pain, death and destruction.
Very soothing.
Her smirk only growing as he had filled her in on what it was that was happening with her. As he had shared his great understanding of what she was forced to go through, to live with. Imitating the call of the darkness, dulcet tones deepened as he had dropped his voice to talk about demons.
And Faith's demons had howled. Had ridiculed heartily the half-breed stood before them. Taunting him with hated words about his precious Buffy - detailing with sick delight all the nasty little things that she wanted to do to his girl. So many nasty little things.
All met by silence.
The confidence slowly seeping away as he had forced her to fill all of the voids alone, as he had found an even better way to return her taunting. Just watching. Just waiting. Vampire eyes not needing to blink out an ofference of even a second where she wasn't confined by his gaze.
No nasty things left. Every sadistic twist spoken, every dark desire painted with the colourful words of her venom soaked vocabulary. And then silence. No comebacks. No slurs. No pointed fingers and accusations of guilt.
It had left nothing for Faith to rile against. Had left her only confused by the lack of rage, by the lack of screaming that was filling her head. Leaving it empty.
"I understand Faith. Let me help you?"
And then that. His words. And how could she believe?
No matter in that moment that her spirit had calmed, that she was experiencing a moment of almost peace - how could she believe?
This was Angel. Not her saviour, not her hero. Buffy's. And that was why she wouldn't believe, and that was when the silence had ended. Remembering angles, remembering the changing shape of her prison.
Faith had done the only thing she knew how. She had gotten back in the game. Had sucked it up, breathed it out. Back in the saddle and ready to roll.
"Can you get me out of here?"
Spoken like a pro.
Freedom finally in sight as he had nodded an affirmative, as he had settled closer to the bars and offered the hand of friendship. Forcing herself to listen to his words, forcing her eyes to mimic regret as he had walked her through all of the things which she had to repent for, that she had to face up to.
"Anything Angel… I just need to get out of here. I can't… fuck, you don't know what it's like having to see Buffy all the time. I try and get myself chilled out, get my fucking head straight - but all I see is her. All I fucking hear, is her."
She had even mimicked tear drenched eyes as she had whispered to him the deceit of her dream. Twisting the sequence so she could tell a tale of how Buffy had dragged her down into hell - pleading with him to help her find a way out. Something different.
Redemption.
Even now as she sat reviewing the outcome of the evening therapy session, she couldn't believe how soft a target he had been. How gullible he had seemed as she had spoken her need for salvation. It was adding more ticks to the unbelievable column. Those parts of her that wanted to believe in his words being forced down and conquered by the years of mistrust and enforced survival.
There was no fucking way he was on the level. No fucking way that this wasn't some new ploy by Buffy to have her on her knees and begging to play second string again.
No. Fucking. Way.
She refused to believe it. Easier instead to settle her mind with thoughts of escape. Planning her tastes of freedom as methodically as she wished to plan her taste of Buffy. Those nasty little things again. The taste of her fear, the taste of her pain.
Faith wanted to drown in it.
A smirk settling as daylight had started to dawn. Eyes closing. Her breaths steadying and deepening as sleep had consumed her as easily as all of her thoughts of Buffy. Dreams intruding. Peace beckoning.
Drowning in it.
The morning came as the morning always did; with confusion, with hurt, with pain and with suffering. Nothing softly, softly enough to break through the reality which still ripped at her side, nothing ever close to strong enough to break through the fear induced fog that ate at her mind. Sweat pooling, eyes drooling. Tears beaten back by the bitterness that called for her eyes to open. To look and to see, to remember the situation she was being forced to feel… locked in a cage, still trapped in her rage.
"Morning Faith."
Eyes closing again. Greeting the morning was always the least favourite part of any day. Not only since she had woken to find that her life had been held hostage by the pause button, but before that… since…
"I know you're awake."
And ignorance is bliss.
Only recognising the truth that to have *her* calling her forth to a brand new day, was the worst that it could be. Distorted dreams drawn out by the tone in her voice, dreams distorted as Faith tried to remember what was the truth and what was the lie. What was then and what was now. What was today.
She ignored the silence that made the basement uncomfortable and lay in a peace that allowed her to reconvene the madness. Remembering how to snarl, remembering how to scowl. Remembering that a smile could be so much more effective when it was Buffy she was trying to affect.
"What's this B, you come to kiss me goodbye?"
Exhausted from the process. Her shoulders steeling as she lifted herself up, as she turned to face the one that made her feel less with a mask that made her feel more. Made her feel in control.
"I want to talk."
"I want a pony… never did get it."
"It's time to cut through the crap, Faith. It's crazy, I know, but I really thought I'd be able to help you… I really wanted to help you." A sigh. Not sure who from. Eyes lifting, meeting green. Look away. Stay safe. "We need to talk."
Need.
Something that grabbed her attention. Something that could always make her laugh when it fell from Buffy's lips. Buffy didn't know need. She didn't know want. She knew nothing.
"Got nothing to say."
"You had plenty to say last night."
"Last night? Don't have a clue what you're talking `bout B."
"Angel?"
"Oh - right. Soul dude. My saviour. He give you the low down on the sitch… tell you how he's busting me out of the cage?"
"I didn't need the low down."
Faith disagreed. Buffy had always needed something low down. Something to knock the edge off the perfection. Not yet knowing why she hadn't needed it last night though, if Buffy had gained the gift of telepathy in the four years that had shot past in a blur of nothing.
She offered an expression which showed she didn't have a fucking clue what was being said. Her eyes directed to take the route to the ceiling. To look up towards a heaven when she had only kept her gaze trapped in the direction which led to hell. The camera mounted high up on the wall. The red light blinking out its eagerness to share secrets.
"I was watching you. I heard everything."
And that knocked her for a moment. Knocked her hard. A speeding rewind which tried to remember everything that had been said; which of her secrets may have been stolen.
"If I knew you were watching B, I would've put on a show. Never really took ya for the kinky type." Leering out a way to cover her confusion. Her arms reaching up, her chest jutting out. "You always play the peeping Tom?"
"I'm not playing. I'm through with games… with all of this. I heard everything you said to Angel, I heard everything that he said to you… now I just want to know why?"
"Why what?"
"Why me, Faith?"
It made her eyes flit back down, made her shoulders ache with the effort of staying disinterested. "Dunno what you're talking about."
"That makes two of us." Her feet creeping backwards as Buffy had sought to step forward. "I stayed up all night after Angel left - going over what you said, all the different ways that you want to see me hurting - and it got me thinking; what did I ever do to you that was so damn bad…"
"You gutted me."
"No - that's not it. The gutting - which I hasten to add was so not a gutting - came after the hate, Faith. I tried to pin it down… tried to remember exactly when it was that you decided to want me dead…"
"Moment I met you."
"Liar."
A killer and a liar?
"We were close. I remember that, so I know that you remember. And it keeps going back to that night in the alley…"
"Yeah? I spent lots of nights in alleys, ain't nothing special there B. Now seriously; this shit is really starting to irritate… can't you just fuck off or something? Find someone else to torture?"
Another step taken back. No way that eyes were gonna be meeting anything other than the comics on the floor. Bending down to retrieve the nearest… turning her back. Denying the sound that wouldn't stop coming.
"You know exactly which night Faith. And I keep going over it - what I could have done differently, what part of it was my fault - and do you know what I've finally figured out?"
Just looking at the pretty pictures.
"It wasn't my fault. I don't know how you've got it spun in your head, I don't know what it is that you think you remember… but I tried my best. All I wanted was to help you… all I wanted…"
"Bullshit."
And Buffy also knew when to take the silent option. When to stop taking those steps which had brought her closer and closer to the cage. When to drop her own eyes to shield herself from the hatred that had spun suddenly round to attack.
"All you ever fucking wanted was to be the golden girl! To be the number one chosen, top of the heap slayer… I saw that look in your eyes… scared my shit was gonna stain you… scared you'd be dragged down…"
"No."
"Fuck no! Fucking yes! I saw it B. You came to MY room, my fucking space, and you called me a killer. You don't like the consequences, well ain't that a pity?"
Space recovered. All of that old pain uncovered.
"All of this Faith, because I called you a name?"
Yet it felt like a lie. It tasted like a lie. Like a cover. Like more camouflage. No answer to a question which offered to reduce everything she was feeling to some pointless level of patheticness.
"You were like the tin man from Oz, refusing to feel. Not caring. Not even wanting to talk about it, to mention anything. All I wanted… I don't know… I didn't want any of this Faith. I never meant any of this."
Nothing but silence and stares and bitterness.
"I was scared."
She was scared?
"Faith?"
Scared. It was laughable. Buffy had been scared? She had been fucking terrified.
"Fine. Keep the silence. I can talk enough for both of us." Hands lifting to settle on the bars. So close. "I've had years to think through all of this, and believe me Faith, I've thought about it more than you'll ever know - possibly too much. But the thing that gets me, that single stick out moment that I just don't understand - if you hated me so much, if all you wanted was me dead… then why did you save me?"
Save her?
It had the subterfuge of the comic forgotten for the moment, had her eyes lifting to meet Buffy's whether she wanted them to or not. A confused look. A questioning look.
"At the docks Faith. Why not just leave me to die?"
Oh.
"Well?"
And did she know the answer to that?
"Because to me it doesn't make sense, it makes less than sense. I could have been dead, you could have been gone…"
"I guess I fucked up. I won't do it again."
That buzzing starting in the back of her brain, the buzz that reminded her of all the things she would never have, would never be. Like a rattlesnake sliding tight around her mind, squeezing out everything that argued the way to make sense, silencing anything that didn't ring out with words of familiarity. "Maybe I saved you, so I could kill you?"
"You really believe that?"
"It's what I fucking said isn't it? Jesus B, you think any of this shit even matters to me…? I made one stupid mistake and you treated me worse than a fucking leper… I knew how it was gonna go, I knew that first moment you came to my room how it was gonna go."
"I tried…"
"No, you never tried. I'll tell you what you did, what you do…" Her focus redirected as if the comics had never existed. Stalking back towards the bars, her eyes squinting shut to remember what it was she was seeing, who it was she was seeing. "…the only reason you were scared is cos you knew I was right. You were sailing close to that feeling B, I saw it in you… fuck, I felt it in you, and you couldn't deal with that. You had to make me bad, just so you could get back to being Miss Goody Fucking Two Shoes. You were so fucking smug B, so fucking glad that it was my mistake…"
It was washing over her like every other time she had paused on the memory; the self righteous bullshit, the virtue that just couldn't bear to be tainted. "…you caged it back then just like you've caged me now. It's what you do B. All your tidy boxes for all of your untidy feelings…"
"That's crap."
Buffy's voice coming to her hard and disaffected. Buffy's hands clenching tighter round the bars. So affected.
"No, you're crap. At least I fucking know what I am, what the fuck it is that I want!"
Contact.
Her hands reaching out to wrap so damn tight around Buffy's, grinding their palms against the bars, holding her hostage with the closest thing to the truth she had ever managed to say. Breathing ragged. Eyes electric.
"What do you want Faith..?"
Confusion. The allusion of skin beneath hers so close to all that she wanted. Holding tighter.
"What do you want?"
The illusion denied.
"I want you to fuck off. I want you to die."
Her words making Buffy's hands begin a struggle beneath her own. Urging on her madness, urging on the need to free the pain.
"Let go."
No release.
"What? Think you can send your fucking boy toy down here and soften me up with salvation..? You think I give a shit about salvation?! The only thing I want B, is you gone. The only thing I ever wanted was you…"
"Gone?"
"Fuck off!"
Those eyes truly tormenting her now that she'd found the strength to hold them. The green not reeling back in fear, the hands no longer struggling. Something different. Something more. A softness… a moment… more bullshit…
Hands torn away. Fingers clawing through her hair as if she could rip apart all of the thoughts. All of the things which crashed down on her from every single angle. Every whisper which taunted, every touch that…
"I know the game you're playing Faith. I know it's all crap…"
"You don't know anything."
"I know what I've seen. I know what I heard." She watched as Buffy's eyes again flitted up to the camera on the wall, understood the insinuation that none of her moments caged had been moments spent in privacy. "I saw you Faith. I saw you cry."
And she heard the words. The greatest blow that Buffy would ever deal. Greater than any knife to the gut, harsher than any jagged cut, deeper than anything which could be produced by something sharp and ornamental. This was fundamental. This was attacking a reality that Faith could not bear to have attacked, this was calling her on something which she would never stand to admit.
She was not weak. She did not cry.
"No you didn't."
Her voice softer. Her eyes darker. Memories of every tear that had fallen all of those years ago, imaginings of every tear that would have fallen in the intermission. "I don't do tears, B. I don't fucking cry."
Yet her voice sounded like all it wanted to do was cry. Like all it had ever wanted to do was cry.
"I saw you."
"You saw shit."
Stepping back. Further back. Shadows welcomed to hide the things that she feared she couldn't hide; not daring to show the truth. Not daring to feel the truth. Her truth resided in that place where tears were all wasted, in a life that had never gotten anywhere by feeling sorry for herself. Another excuse to be beaten down, another excuse to be made less. She didn't cry. She was not weak.
"Just fuck off B."
"Is that what you really want?"
Because somehow Buffy understood that this was it. This was the final throw of the dice, the final chance to make anything about this different. The final chance for her to hang onto Faith. To not be a coward.
Daring to step forward again, daring to let her eyes unmask every ounce of torn emotion. The confusion, the disillusion, the thousand things that she didn't understand. The things that had kept her returning to Faith when she wasn't even there. When all she'd had was a shell to hold onto, a memory to cling to. Not caring if her own eyes shone with tears, not caring if she wasted the notion on Faith. It felt like a last chance.
The last chance.
"Is this what you want?"
A gentle nudging. A gentle voice.
"Yes."
A gentle answer.
It was with trembling fingers that Willow reached out to turn off the small screen that had just sought to shatter the fragile peace of the early morning. The recognition harsh as she forced her brain to order the thoughts. The understanding harsher as she realised where it was that those thoughts were taking her.
Not frivolous thoughts - suspicions founded in an ever meandering mind - but solid thoughts. Rational thoughts. The kind of thoughts that appealed whole heartedly to the logical side of Willow.
The truth.
Played out before her in a black and white montage that could never mute the colourful array of emotions which filtered steadily through the speakers. First the violence. The thing that she had come to expect - the foul mouthed outbursts - the twisted face that seemed stuck in a scowl. But then…
Willow didn't quite know how to describe the then. The captivation that she had been held with as everything had seemed to quiet, as her breath was held through the accusation of tears, as her sigh was released on the gentleness of Buffy's words. The pleading in Buffy's voice. She did know how it had made her feel though, she did remember the sounds of a heart breaking. She understood everything that it meant.
And she despised the understanding.
For years Willow had found her comfort zone in dismissing the random moments of clarity that had urged her to take a closer look at the dynamics between the warring slayers. Her first kiss with a girl pushing her to acknowledge her first attraction to a girl. To consider the real source of her hostile feelings towards Faith. To recognise what it was that she had truly been jealous of.
And all of it dismissed as the overworked imagination of Willow- brain.
Chastising herself heavily for such silly thoughts. Reassuring herself heartily that any fleeting attraction to Buffy was grounded in a deep admiration for the woman who was her best friend. Reminding herself that Faith was evil - that it was never anything to do with… what? Love?
Absolutely not! No freaking beeping way mister!
Except that she had seen it. Had felt it. And even the steepest of her denials was being overcome by the tremors which still shook her body. Assuring herself she had cracked the code - deciphered the text.
Yet she didn't feel flush with the triumph; she felt decidedly sick.
Sliding herself into the shadows as Buffy had crossed the lobby before her, hiding the distaste which shone in her eyes as dark as any forbidden magic.
Willow simply could not bear the thought of Buffy and Faith.
It was something which hit far too close to home, uncovered way too many feelings that had been successfully smothered and doused by time. By a welcome coma.
So, so easy to feel seventeen again, to feel all of that same hurt and rejection again. It all clouded anything which urged Willow to hold back. Dismissing the intervening years of maturity and understanding. Darkening her eyes, darkening her intentions.
Finally directing her feet to take the stairs to the basement and welcome back Faith.
The desolate slayer was not expecting the sound of footsteps on the stairs again so soon after Buffy had left. She did not want to hear the sound of footsteps - of anything. The gentleness in Buffy's voice disarming all of the defences she had spent years crafting as protection - the look in Buffy's eyes doing everything to force forward questions that held more than enough power to topple the whole of her belief system.
"All I wanted was to help you…"
The softness of the skin beneath her hands as she had sought to hold Buffy a prisoner. The electricity that had sparked from the touch only enhancing the steady beat of Buffy, Buffy, Buffy which still infected her maddening mind. Only not so mad. Not in that moment.
And that was wrong. Faith was the affecter, not the affected. She was the player not the played. It was her turn to come out on top. It had to finally be her turn. So sick of being at the bottom. Belonging at the bottom.
It had made the soft skin burn. Had branded her in places that she did not ever wish to be branded. That one word mantra of destruction seeming so useless in comparison to the one word mantra of her…
"Is this what you want?"
God. So gentle.
Thump, thump, thump. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy.
Is that what she wanted?
Faith knew enough to know that every want of hers was drenched in the crimson stains of bloodshed. Knew enough to know that her soul was tainted in ways which could never stand up to gentleness. Could never bear to be encased in softness. Was it what she really wanted?
It was what she needed.
Anything to stop the thumping of her heart. Anything to stop the relentless chanting that had followed her footsteps so steadily down into hell.
No. The footsteps on the stairs had not been a welcome intrusion. The hollow words that had echoed against the dingy walls returning her thoughts quickly back to the present. The past. Another unwanted reunion.
"Hello Faith."
As hard as nails. As welcoming as an acid bath. Inviting the smirk to find a place on her face, twisting her lips to mimic with gusto the red head's obvious distaste.
"What do you want?"
"Aw - that's not very nice. Aren't you pleased to see me?"
Willow's tone of voice did not induce pleasure. Faith could remember so well the Willow of yesteryear; the pathetic excuse of a creature that she had sought to torment at every turn. She did not recognise the confidence. The power that radiated so menacingly in the former eyes of uncertainty.
"Guessing you're not here to play nice with the psycho Red, so how about we skip past the pleasantries and you tell me what the fuck you are doing here?"
"Oooh - someone's all touchy. Anyone would think you were feeling a little threatened Faith. Does it feel good?"
And she was the crazy one?
"Look, I dunno what your deal is - don't really care what your deal is - but I'm not in the mood for this shit. Either get to the point or…"
"Shut up."
Huh?
"You're right Faith, I'm not here for pleasantries; there's nothing pleasant about sharing space with you again. This is more of a… hmmm, what shall we call it? A 'friendly' warning?"
The question didn't ask for an answer. It only produced silence. No quick retort issuing itself from Faith's lips, no scathing comeback to wipe the smile from Willow's face.
"Everyone else may be rushing to find the friendship with you again - but I don't know - I guess I just don't trust you. You see Faith, Buffy's not the only one that's been keeping an eye on our new best friend. I've been observing the little lab rat too - and really? You're just the same as you used to be. Skanky on the outside… skankier on the inside…"
"Fuck you."
"No chance. I don't do skanks."
The seething hatred mirrored in both girls eyes. Willow peering with an intensity that left Faith feeling far too exposed. Naked. A rawness about her need to inflict violence, to control the situation with the only power she knew she possessed. Her hands again gripping tight to the bars, screaming inside with a need to break, to shatter…
"There's really no point in trying to get out. You could never break through the magic, Faith. I'm way stronger than you are."
Her hands burning with the effort.
"Just stay in the cage where you belong, and listen to what I have to say. Oh - you should probably try and pay attention to this part too, I'd hate to have to show you what I'm really capable of."
God was there hate. A different hate. The strongest hate. When Faith had found herself facing off against Buffy it had all been edged with an intensity that fed something deep in her soul - this was something which strangled her soul.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"That's pretty simple, even for you. I want you out of our lives, I want you gone. I don't ever wanna hear from you, see you… actually, I'd like to pretend that you never existed…"
"You think I wanna see you?"
Watching that smile trace the strawberry lips. The air seeming heavier with the glint that shone in the evil eyes of a jealous green.
"I guess not Faith, but that's the thing - I don't mean me."
"Huh?"
"Buffy."
That word again. The shaker of her beliefs.
"I don't want you near her. I want you out of this cage and gone from her life. And I mean for good this time. No death and destruction, no psychotic grabs at revenge - this is it. Game over…"
Words. Just words. A pointless stream of noise which prickled at her senses as it crept across the space to find her ears. Had she not already just covered this ground? Had she not just issued her own plea of `stay away', to the woman herself?
It made her eyebrows lose the scowl and settle instead in confusion - taking her own time to peer just a little bit closer - letting her own eyes seek out the truth behind the empty flow of words.
"Back up there, Red." Interrupting the endless stream to issue a few soundbites of her own. "For someone that thinks she knows what she's talking about, you sure spout a lot of pointless bullshit."
Finding a smile.
"You really think I wanna see Buffy? Are you completely fucking insane?"
Enjoying the silence that answered her question. "If you have been watching the show, then you know that ain't the case. I mean, sure - not gonna be upset if she dies a horrible death anytime soon - but I want away from her. I'm done with this shit, with all of you. I'll tell ya Red, my life's never been nothing to sing about, but it was a whole lot fucking better before I came to Sunnydale. Before I met your precious Buffy."
And damn, was there some truth to that statement. Even Faith could feel the honesty which had managed to sneak up on her words. Remembering a time when it had simply been about good over evil. About being right instead of wrong. And well, sure - there may have been a few shortcuts, ways to make the duty a whole lot more enjoyable, but the premise had always stayed the same; the good guys always won. She had been a superhero.
And then she had met Buffy. And then she had seen what a real superhero looked like. And she had known that could never be her. Could never be hers.
"I wish I'd never met her."
"You're lying."
"You what?"
"You really think I'd fall for that Faith? You really think I don't see what this is all about?"
"For fuck's sake!" Hands again finding hair in an absolute honest need to claw away the madness. Not the psycho kind. Just the normal kind. The kind encountered when it felt like you were uselessly screaming into a never ending abyss. Like no one ever listened to a fucking word you had to say. "I hate her, okay? I fucking hate her! Do you hear that, do you get that!?"
"More lies Faith?"
An absolute endless abyss.
"I probably should have seen it sooner, I mean, with hindsight it's glaringly obvious. You don't hate Buffy… you never hated Buffy. I get it now - what drove your little crazy train down the tracks marked psycho. I get how hard it must have been - knowing you'd never have her, knowing you would never be worthy of her. Seeing her with Angel all of the time; all those little touches that you wanted to give, all those loving glances that were never for you. I bet it itched at your soul Faith - getting closer but never close enough. Never good enough to be the one that she chose to lo-"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Oh no. This needs to be said. You need to understand."
It was too messed up. So fucking far beyond crazy. Willow was attacking her with a wisdom that scared the living crap out of her. Terrified her. The words which she had silenced inside of herself a billion times over. Words which when spoken, left her gaping like an open wound. Prone to attack. Ready to break.
"You need to realise Faith, that if you ever come near her again, I will end you. Buffy doesn't want you - she will never want you. She hates you. We all hate you. Now do you get that?"
Did she get that? It was all she had ever got.
Her head dropping, her eyes closing. Ready to step back, to give in. Game over.
Never expecting the sound of the door swinging hard overhead. Enough interruption to silence her words before she'd had the chance to speak them. Forced to wonder instead if maybe she was wrong - maybe it wasn't all she ever got anymore. Maybe sometimes - just onetime - someone was on her side.
"Get away from her, Will."
His voice holding command in a way she had never heard before. No softness about a man face that still held the charm of a boy.
"Xander, I…"
"No…" His hand raising firm, his one good eye holding firmer. "…I mean it Will. Just get away from her. Leave her alone."
A light in the dark. A hero.
Xander Harris stood in silence as he surveyed the scene of the most recent destruction. He was used to destruction - had whittled away many hours piecing together the broken shards of his former happy home - but this he did not know. Did not understand. The weapons that Willow had used so effectively to batter and shatter Faith, seeming like words being spoken in a foreign language. So sharp, so twisted. So nothing that he had been expecting.
Xander had only flicked on the switch to the screen to check if his comic club cohort was still wrapped up in sleep. Not wanting to disturb her if she was still resting, yet as eager as anything to carry on the conversation of the night before. Friendly words. Something so much softer than what he had just witnessed from Willow:
"If you were in the X-men Faith, which X-man would you be?"
Remembering the snort of derision she had tossed his way, the smile which had become such an easy companion to all of her words. "I'd never be in the X-men - I'm way too badass. If I'm gonna be a superhero Xander, I wanna be someone cool…"
"Is this gonna be another ode to Batman?"
"What can I say? A girl's gotta have standards."
His smirk sneaking out. His posture bordering on comical. "I guess I'm the living proof of that."
"Nah, you're the exception. My moment of madness."
Everything becoming so easy. Learning how to banter past the bad, focusing on the fun times instead of the fraught. Something which felt like friendship growing in a place where Xander had never expected to find it. And he liked it. He enjoyed it.
There was a rawness in his own past that was still clenching tight to his chest and making his heart beat harsher - time with Faith had softened that. Had given him a purpose when his mind might've otherwise sought to wallow in Anya. In what was lost in the destruction of Sunnydale.
So much destruction. So much lost. His voice stating his wish that Faith not join the list of the dearly departed. His feet stepping closer to the bars to offer her the sentiment.
"Are you okay Faith?"
Honest sentiment.
"Totally great. Five by fucking five."
Only producing lies.
Only inducing a thousand question marks in his mind as he tried to think of words that might make anything better. That might douse the flames of hatred that had flared so fierce with Willow's words.
"You know that wasn't the truth. No one here hates you, no one…"
"Save it."
"Faith…"
"What? You want me to care and share and play pretty for the camera, is that the deal?" Her eyes still shining bright. Her shoulders still held rigid. "Not gonna happen Xander. I'm done being played by you guys. If I'm gonna get fucked, I'll get fucked on my own terms."
He thought of offering an apology. He vaguely considered asking what her terms might be - and he did the only thing that seemed right. That seemed as though it would make any difference to the glare that was threatening to nail him hard to the floor. Silence his only company as he made deft work of stretching up and ripping out a wire from the back of the camera. As he closed forever the evil eye of the witch upstairs.
"You really think that makes a difference?"
"I was hoping for a yes vote."
"Then you're a chump. It doesn't make a difference - nothing here makes the slightest fucking difference, does it?"
"What does that mean?"
"What do you think it means? Just look at me Xander! Jesus - you keep telling me things have changed, so what's changed? Why am I still the one getting fucked over? Why am I the one locked in a goddamned cage?!"
Because if she wasn't he'd be cowering in the corner like an overgrown schoolgirl?
It was the truth, but not the truth. Not the truth that Faith needed to hear. Not the truth that he would offer.
"I said that things had changed Faith, I didn't say that we were perfect now - that we don't make mistakes anymore. The cage was an impulse decision. You can be pretty fearsome for someone fresh out of a coma."
"What about the camera, was that an impulse decision too - did you all get your rocks off laughing at the dumb little prisoner?"
"I don't think you're dumb."
"I was dumb enough to believe that you were on the level, that you were my…"
A pause.
"Your friend?" Not missing the injury that flashed so plain in her eyes. The pain of betrayal. Pain he had placed there. "I'm your friend if you want me Faith, if you'll have me. Admittedly the eyesight's starting to fade, the patch maybe lowers my resale value; but I'm still a mean hand at fetching donuts. I whittle a good stake - I could come in useful."
Time stretching out as her gaze slid across him. Perhaps measuring, perhaps wondering. He wasn't sure. Only sure that he would stand strong, would stand and allow her to take whatever time it took to be sure that he spoke the truth.
"Told you I liked the patch."
Yes. She had. And it still made him smile. Maybe even more this time. Wishing that he could make her smile a return. Could wipe out the hours since she had laughed so easy last night.
"So that settles it then; we're buddies for life?"
"Whatever. Way my life's going, I wouldn't get too attached."
Not having a chance. Her monotone not inflected with anything that sounded like fun. Her eyes sticking to lifeless as she approached the front of her prison and confronted him without any of the energy left inside for anger.
"Why didn't you just tell me Xander - let me know I was putting on a show for the whole damn world to see?"
"I'm sorry Faith. I should've told you."
"Yeah. You really should've."
A sigh took. A helpless look.
"So what did you see?"
"See?"
"What was the highlight, what had the viewers chomping hardest on their popcorn?"
"It wasn't like that. We were only making sure that you were alright…"
"Great. Ever heard of asking?"
"In the future, I'll ask."
"In the future, it won't matter." He offered her a dipping brow, an honest show of confusion. "I'm out of here. Angel's bringing my release papers tonight - I'm blowing this joint."
"You're leaving?"
"Sure am."
It was news to him. He didn't even care that something approaching daylight had crept up on her face - he was still flashing confused. Not remembering that the minefield he was negotiating needed such a delicate step. "Does Buffy know?"
His foot inserted before his thoughts were formed.
"You wanna rephrase that?"
"Does anyone know?"
"Not that it matters, but yeah, people know. She knows. Probably getting the balloons and streamers ready right now - maybe even baking a cake…"
"Where are you gonna go?"
"Fuck knows. As far away from her as I fucking can."
Her? Here. Edged with the fiery again. That one special word all it took to fan the flames. All of Faith's hurts seeming to gather in the darkened depths of saturated eyes; old pain. New pain. Same pain. "I just need to get away from here. From all of this."
And maybe he could ask to go with her? Tempted by the harsh beat in his heart, by the tightness creeping across his chest; by the knowledge that this newfound friendship which had softened the blows was also getting ready to be lost.
"I don't want you to go."
"You what?"
"Really Faith; I don't want you to go. I get the bid for freedom, I understand needing an escape from all of the crazy stuff - but I like having you around."
"Yeah, bet it's a real laugh riot."
"It has its moments. I'll miss the moments."
Unexpected words painting her cheeks a new colour; a hint of a flush that was fresh to her face. Brushstrokes of confusion. Cover.
"You sure that preacher dude didn't pierce your brain when he went for the eye?"
Camouflage.
Xander saw it. Recognised it. And after what he had seen Willow inflict upon her just moments previous, he determined to allow her to keep it.
"Okay Faith - you got me. The sentiment is just a lame ass cover for the devastating loss of the comic club - I never actually got anyone to join my secret society before."
"You're kidding me?"
"Oh no, I'm being completely serious - there was this one time back in Freshman year when I thought it might take off. There were gonna be these little flyers, group meets…"
"I didn't mean the comic club, Einstein, I meant you - wanting to keep me here just so you can get me geeked up to your level. That's a pretty harsh punishment. Kinda makes me wanna rethink the whole friends thing."
Xander wasn't. He was cherishing it.
"I think you can manage the geek thing all alone Faith. As for the friends thing, that's a whole different ball game; you have to keep your end afloat or it all comes crashing down…"
"Told ya not to get too attached."
"Too late - I've lost too many friends lately - too much of everything. It'd mean a lot to hang onto you."
Her face flashing him a look draped in desperation and distress. So unsure of what was being said. His honest sentiment smashing through the camouflage to bring so many glimpses of the girl lost inside. "Hey, it won't be so bad, it's not like there's any ritual torture involved. I'll just drop by and see you now and then, maybe call once in a while…"
"You'd do that?"
"Sure I'd do that. I want to do that." Answering the voice that sounded the same as her face had looked. Making him ache, making him want to offer more. "Listen Faith, I know you don't like talking about this, and I know I swore on all things DC that I wouldn't push it… but if you really are leaving then you have to let me say something."
"I'm leaving."
"Then I'm saying something."
Breathing deep. Meeting the eyes. Stepping in closer - breathe deep again. "This whole psycho deal Faith, all of that going crazy stuff…"
"Wait Xander, don't…"
"No. I need to say this."
"No you don't. You don't need to say anything, right? Just keep it at the comics… we can shoot the shit on Slade Wilson some more. You know in this light, there's wicked hot resemblance…"
"Deathstroke lost his right eye Faith."
"I'm just saying."
"So was I." He wondered how many breaths he would have to take before she would seek to meet his gaze again. Counted thirteen. Was glad to stop. "I get that this is rough, but I'm not here to beat on you."
"You're not? You sure you don't wanna pick up where Red left off?"
And he started counting again. So close to losing her. Sensing the rising tide of anger that still festered below the surface. Hoping he wasn't pushing too far. Too soon. Almost as if he could see it as an entity creeping out across her skin; the way her body tensed, the way her hands reached up to claw endless through her hair. Fighting. Trying…
"It's okay Faith."
Wanting to break through the pointless bars himself and shake the sanity into her. Wanting so badly to understand what had taken the sanity out of her.
"Just go Xander…"
Watching her retreat. Not turning to leave.
He did have things to say. Things which had mulled in his mind the more time he had spent with her; the more time he tried to put reasoning to all of their actions. The good ones. The bad ones. Determined to speak the conclusions before he was forced to wish her goodbye.
"I can't go. As much as this hurts you to listen, you need to hear what I have to say…"
"For fuck's sake! Why can't any of you just leave me alone - all I want, is to be left the fuck alone!"
"Then I'll make you a deal Faith; you hear me out, and if you still want me gone - I'm gone."
Keeping a sense of joviality to his tone to combat the harshness of hers. Stifling a chuckle as she grabbed at the comics on the floor, as she twisted her body away from his gaze and buried her eyes deep in distractions to counter his words.
"Okay. I'm gonna take that as a yes."
A chuckle of something that would be joy. The way that she seemed to soften the world's blows. Even in this moment; balancing precariously on the fraying thread of newfound friendship - she still softened the blows. A woman, a slayer; yet still such a girl. Believing that the world could be silenced by the superheroes in a comic.
He envied her optimism. Focused his.
"As I was saying before I lost you to the lure of Batman; all of that crazy stuff Faith - the stuff back in Sunnydale - I want you to know that we're past that now. It's gone. Done and dusted. I'm never gonna beat on you about anything that happened - sure, I'm here if you ever want to talk about it, but I'm still gonna be here even if you don't. You're not the only one of my friends that has taken the dive to the wrong side of the tracks - it's a pretty crowded club, endless group meets… "
He saw her gaze sneak a glance. Knew that she was listening.
"…and the thing is; I forgive my friends. I don't torture them till they repent and get down on their knees to beg. It's a given."
Absolute attention.
"I'm a lucky enough guy to have seen the real Faith; here and four years ago. And I'm telling you now; that rage crazed guise you've got going just isn't you. Not the real you. It's not someone you have to be anymore…"
"You really think that?"
"I know that."
"Yeah…" The comic was tossed. "…cos it's all so fucking easy, right?" A sigh delivered. "You don't know Xander - you have no fucking clue what it's like in here… everything's so messed up, nothing makes a damn bit of sense to me…"
"That's life Faith. It's messed up and senseless and some days it'd be easier to roll up and die than to make it worth living - we still try though. You can still try."
He watched her flinch at each of his words as if they were weapons as harsh and as hateful as Willow's. Starting a pace, stomping out a rhythm. Giving him a beat to carry on his sermon. "Everything still seems rough, I get that, but things have changed. There's nothing left to hate Faith, no one left to fight against - just give it a chance. Give us a chance?"
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Over and over and over.
Her eyes different when she finally stopped. When Xander finally ceased counting his breaths at somewhere past hundreds and stilled himself to hear her verdict;
"Faith?"
An eternity of silence.
"Just go Xander, please… "
A hung jury.
Upstairs in the sunshine, away from the doom and gloom of the basement, a different kind of doom and gloom was settling down across the shoulders of Buffy. The number one golden girl feeling bottom of the heap. She had sought out and spoken to Giles after her time below with Faith; had nodded along with the pretence of agreement to each of the words which were founded in wisdom and maturity. And she wished that she could reject them all.
"This is probably for the best Buffy. I doubt that any of us here could have provided the kind of help that Faith so obviously needs… I'd have to say that with all things considered, this provides a rather satisfactory conclusion."
A satisfactory conclusion.
Nothing more than Giles' British way of calling it what it was. The End. An end that she did not want. Could not contemplate coping with. There were still too many secrets left untold for Buffy, still too many messes that she didn't want swept under the rug, too many words that were yet to be spoken out loud. In all of the time that Faith had been sleeping, Buffy had offered her a thousand different whispered words - millions and billions of jumbled up sentences that had never come close to touching the truth of the story.
Oh no. Buffy the Brave had never even spoken those words to herself. Four years she had sat poised with her mental eraser; ready to un- scribe in an instant any words which would pounce on her with the force of uninvited memories. Always so many of those. The wrong smell, the wrong sound, the wrong phrase; a million moments which could catch her unguarded.
The times when Buffy had held Faith's hand in hospital had always been the hardest to run from. A deadness in a connection that had always ebbed with life. The emptiness in her heart that had never been explained. Never been questioned.
And who needed questions when the answers were so unbelievable? Unachievable.
Buffy had always thought not her. Had clung to the reality where Faith's coma was an everlasting barrier to any kind of question that had sounded too tough. Too rough to deal with. Not banking on the sleeping, waking. Not banking on the insistent threat from her heart that it was ready to take up the beat again. Ready to name the tune.
Faith.
Such an easy little tune to remember. Buffy knew - it wasn't like she had managed to forget. The intensity in glares and stares. The electricity etched in just one touch. In every touch.
Name that tune.
Taunting. The words still too daunting to allow a safe passage. Like a game. Like rings round roses. Spirals formed to outrun the rhythm. Distraction sought to prevent falling down. Buffy could do it.
Like slaying!
In sunlight?
Or not.
Not really a distraction anyway when she considered how every blow landed inevitably reminded her of who she was trying to forget. Or not forget. She couldn't forget. Maybe not think about. And anyway, it wasn't like Giles hadn't given her plenty more things to think about. Asking her to lead again, asking her to give direction; to make decisions. A plan of action for the army of slayers that she had helped create. Because that was important. That was far more important than the dead beat that had taken up residence in her chest.
Than the deadbeat that was taking up residence in front of her eyes.
"Hey Buffy. Can I talk to you?"
The short answer or the long one?
"I'm kinda busy right now Kennedy, can't you speak to Giles instead?"
"You don't look busy."
"Don't be fooled by this total lack of action. I'm actually strategising - making plans - doing like all good leaders should…"
"Was it your plan to send Faith away?"
Kapow!!!!
Complete with comic book writing and exclamations aplenty. That's how it felt to Buffy at least. No place for hiding. Smashing headfirst into the solid brick wall that she'd been hopelessly seeking to avoid.
"You know that Faith's leaving?"
"Giles just told us - the girls aren't happy."
"I don't really see how it has anything to do with the girls."
"Yeah, well, you wouldn't, would you?"
The distinct aroma of a challenge wrapping itself around the words.
"Am I sensing a little hostility here Kennedy?"
The hint of distraction enticing Buffy to stand.
"Could be. Mostly though it's just disappointment - we were almost starting to think that you were human - that you gave a crap. I hate being wrong; it leaves a bitter taste."
"It does? I would've thought you'd get used to that after a while."
And it was all there: the sarcastic slice of perky in her tone, the hardness of the slant that cocked her hips. Every wrong thing that she used in her own defence against the weight of the world. "You should go and ask Giles for a mint, I'm sure he'd be happy to oblige."
"You really are something, you know that?"
"Tell it to someone who cares." Because Buffy really didn't. Or couldn't. Or wouldn't. "Now was there anything else, or can I get back to what I was doing?"
Almost turning to dismiss her. Ready to settle back down and remind her mind to think about something else.
So close.
"You didn't answer me yet Buffy - was it your idea to send her away?"
Forgetting perky. Feeling pissed.
"I thought we just covered the ground where this isn't your business - are you having trouble understanding - do you really need me to break it down for you?"
"You could try and break down the part where we're all supposed to stand back and smile, while you go ahead and get rid of Faith…"
And could she just scream? Please?
"I'm not getting rid of Faith!"
Except that `letting go' and `getting rid' both sounded the same in the harsh light of heartbreak. Both hurt the same. No shout loud enough to cover the empty echo of such empty words. Nothing hard enough to protect against the desolation that wracked her body in the moment that denial was sounded.
No answering words to fill that ever growing void.
And the silence was the worst. A space created for every unspoken thought that wanted to batter her already fraught defences. Memories thrusting fast. The present and the past. Every minute. Every moment. Everything Faith.
"You just wouldn't understand Kennedy."
Stepping down. Running scared.
"I thought you were gonna break it down for me?"
"Wish I could. Really don't think I can." Searching hard for the bouncy step, for the sun sparkling eyes. "Look, it's great that you're worried about her, we're all worried about her; but there's really nothing to worry about. She's just going to stay with Angel for a while. It's all for the best - a satisfactory conclusion."
"You sound like Giles."
"That's good… Giles is very wise."
"Giles is a jerk who doesn't have the first clue what it's like to be a slayer. To be like us. I can't believe you're doing this - what chance have any of us got if we can't even save one of our own?"
"Is that what you think?"
"It's what we all think! So Faith's past is a little shady - seems to me like all of you guys have got some shady in your past; it's hardly a good reason to cast her aside. To give up on her. She's still a slayer Buffy. She belongs here with us."
And maybe Kennedy was the wise one. The one who could force the issue. That could drag the words of truth from the fear infested Buffy. So scared of the realisation. Of the consequence of all the inaction. Every single memory reduced to a sigh as she offered just the faintest glimpse of what twisted inside.
"You really think I don't know that - you honestly believe that I don't know where Faith belongs?"
"Then why let it happen? You're supposed to be the big leader, right - so do some leading. Tell Giles to stick it."
"As highly tempting as that thought is, this wasn't Giles' call. Faith made the decision all by herself; it's her choice to go."
"Yeah, well if it was me you were keeping in a cage, I'd be pretty keen to up sticks too. Maybe if you let her out… if you told her you wanted her to stay…"
Laughter.
Fraught and frantic painful laughter.
Provoked by the absurdity of the statement; by the idea of standing before Faith and declaring the wish that she wouldn't leave. It was hysterical.
Hysterically sobering.
"Do you have any idea what would happen if I was ever crazy enough to ask Faith to stay - better yet, if I opened up the cage and then told her that I wanted her to stay?"
"Do you?"
"I can probably guess. There'd be beatings. Possible heinous acts with definite mortal consequences. There are certainly no happy scenarios. Believe me Kennedy, I've spent more than enough time thinking them through."
"Sounds bleak."
"It is bleak. That's the life of a slayer; destined for bleakness. You still glad you signed up?"
"I signed up after the inspirational speech, if you'd given us this one, I guess your ass would be sitting home alone in that dust pit named Sunnydale."
"I think I'm all out of inspiration."
"Well there must be something we can do, someway we can make Faith see that we're on her side. She hasn't even met any of us yet - maybe knowing that she's part of something bigger…"
If only. Not likely.
"Faith's not one for group bonding. She never really grasped the whole concept of playing well with others. I doubt that rounding up the girls to offer solidarity would swing much in our favour - except maybe a crossbow. She has real flair when it comes to being pissed off."
"So that's it - we're giving up, just like that?"
"No. We're accepting that what Faith wants is far away from here. It's not giving up, it's being mature. It's giving her what she needs."
"Right. So what makes you the big expert on Faith - how do you know what she needs?"
Kapow again. Memories prickling again. Conversation threatening to cross over into realms where she wasn't so happy straying. If Buffy took the time to listen, if she truly asked herself what it was that she believed Faith needed - where the heck would she start? Where the hell would she stop?
How would she ever keep her grip on the slipping defence of denial?
It was hard enough to deny the need that beat so strong in her own chest; she doubted that she was strong enough to ever deny what she had always seen in her reflection. What she had felt from Faith all of the times they had danced chest to chest beneath the strobing lights of The Bronze. When that taste of something so unrestrained had rocketed her heart full thrust towards disaster.
This wasn't affect, affectedness or affection. It wasn't desire and lust or the thrill from a kill.
Buffy knew exactly what Faith needed. Had always known. Beyond the cut and thrust, the hate and mistrust. The feminine wiles and deceptive smiles. Beyond blood stained alleyways and the hard ride to crazy. Buffy knew. It was in the eyes behind the door on Christmas Eve, in the fingers that brushed a photo in the empty office of a Deputy Mayor. It was in every single reason that Buffy had never been able to let go.
Name that tune.
So much being said without words.
Not turning from the intruding eyes of Kennedy - from the untainted mind that rushed fast to fill blanks. Flicking a switch - blipping a radar. "Oh my god."
Not even allowing a sigh to escape as every single dam sounded out a warning of impending flood. Broken defences. Flinching at the touch from Kennedy - from the hand that tried to offer a small stroke of comfort.
"Have you ever told her?"
The silence still saying so much.
Howling and growling said so much too. Screamed so much to one who wanted only silence. Little solder drops of sense burning through to confront the messengers of madness, little drips of destruction that wanted to signal an all-out war. Too much information.
And Faith wasn’t like that. Situations were only ever surmised by how best she could survive, what there was to be gained. Selfishly simple - Want. Take. Have. She didn’t ponder another’s feelings; she didn’t care if her benefits didn’t benefit them - life was what you made it, and she knew more than enough to know that in this life you looked out for number one. No other fucker was ever gonna do it.
So why the incessant screaming? Why the endless fucking choir that implored for her to shut the fuck up?!
The constant smashing and crashing of cymbals. The constant rise and fall of the words that did nothing to name her tune. She had never been religious. Never troubled by a greater meaning to a life that wasn’t exactly paradise; yet still her head was relentlessly pounding along to the heaven sent strains of Hark The Herald Angels… really so fucking ironic. The only thing she wanted to do to the heralding Angel was send a salvation sized splinter dead centre through his heart. Bust to dust the confusion that was doing a whole lot worse than any coma had ever done.
Four years of downtime sounded perfect right now. A forever of downtime sounded even better.
Nothing sounded worse than what was inside her head. Almost having her shaking, almost having her stopping the pacing to introduce cranium to brick. Sorely tempted. Sore all over.
Too much information.
“I’m here to help.”
“I was scared.”
“You can still try.”
Floating phrases which encircled her mind. Poking and prodding. Finding ways in.
“I understand Faith. Let me help you?”
“Is this what you want?”
“Give us a chance?”
So many fucking questions. Not a single answer.
No one had offered Faith peace as an option - no one had sidled up to her with a pointed weapon and induced her back to sleep. No one had followed the rules of engagement. The meaning of life.
This wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t what she knew.
All except for Willow of course… now that had been a flavour that Faith was much more accustomed to tasting. The venom and the hate marching forth like sadistic little saviours of her soul. Something for the madness to hold onto. A dark comfort found in places that felt all too familiar.
“We all hate you.”
Never wanting it any other way.
Right?
Cue the chorus. Cue the itching beneath her skin as she fought her hardest to silence the encore, the crushing weight of a phrase that dripped with an antidote she did not desire.
“I never meant any of this.”
Not the script! Not the fucking way it was meant to play!
Unable to douse the burning behind her eyes as she saw again the gaze which had been wrapped in gentle. Wrapped in everything. Breaking everything. There was supposed to be pain and violence, hate induced agony - fights which swore that they would last to the death; not gentle. Not tinted pinks and dipping eyes and looks which only reminded her of lies.
Faith had seen looks like that before. Had learnt the hardest way what it was like to put her trust in them. To feel vulnerable. To need someone.
Holding so tight to the walls of resistance. Wanting to batten down every hatch in the hope of preserving what she knew. What was safe. Happy to stay forever in her tidy box if it meant that she would never have to face what lay outside. What lied inside.
Why she had been put inside that tidy little box in the first place.
Buffy had sought solace in the safety of her bedroom after the long hard talk outside with Kennedy. Slamming down the windows, turning the lock that sat on her door; trying so hard to hide from all of the things that she had just said. Not meant to say. Not then.
“Have you ever told her?”
Unable not to say them. Smashing through the silence to bring secrets to life. Harsh at first; a snort of disbelief, a sarcastic smile to wrap around words.
“Gee - during all of the mudslinging and duels to the death, I never quite found the time to let her know that she was important to me. My bad.”
Gradually losing the sarcastic as Kennedy had refused to let lying dogs sleep. Itching at the issue as rabidly as a mutt with fleas - “Maybe it is your bad. It’s hardly a big deal, is it; telling someone you care?”
“Oh look, proof positive you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re taking about. You may have all managed to cook up some fantasy in your heads about what Faith’s really like, but let me assure you: Faith doesn’t do caring. It’s this whole thing she has going for her - why care, when it’s so much easier not to.”
“Like you, you mean?”
And the smile had disappeared then too.
She would’ve liked to deny it. Would’ve liked to cling tight to her haughty airs and graces and assure Kennedy again that she didn’t have a damn clue what she was talking about. It was hard to be a bare faced liar though - hard to deny words that she herself had wrung from her own body just a few days previous in an offering to Spike.
She cut herself off. She spurned connection. A thing she had going for her.
Not because it was easier, but because that was how she’d had to survive. Get too close and you suffered loss. Care too much and chances were you’d be forced to send a sharpened sword straight through love’s unbeating heart. Or maybe slide a knife through its gut as easy as if it was butter. No. It was much better to survive than to face the consequences.
Only now, in the claustrophobic confines of her shut tight bedroom, Buffy did not feel as if she was surviving. The opposite. Each breath of air feeling rank and stale. Each tick of the clock seeming closer to sunset.
And she knew what she had to do.
Had reasoned with herself for hours. Back and forth over the unspoken words which had been spoken to Kennedy. Not exactly declarations; Buffy would never be one to trumpet out her feelings from rooftops on high - but words which had broken through the crap of her resistance. Speaking of forces, of power - of the way you could feel in an instant when everything around you sat exactly the way it should. In tune and synchronised. How just one look, one touch - god, one suggestive wink from one suggestive eye - was enough to spark currents strong enough to power the whole of the Western Seaboard. How one glimpse behind the mascara framed mask of seduction had been enough to melt away everything inside that had wished to stay hard.
And then - always then - how it had morphed into feelings which were tainted with hate.
“It must have been hard - in the end - to, you know… it must have been hard.”
“No Kennedy, it was surprisingly easy.”
…there were so many shouts of denial being sounded by then.
She had added the words silently until Kennedy had prodded even further for explanations. Her voice unable to cease the telling of the tale. How embittered they had all been. How sick with the betrayal. Even now Buffy could still remember fresh the rage that had flowed so thick through her veins - the absolute loathing for what Faith had become, the deepest desire to eradicate the feelings that she still harboured in her heart.
As easy as sliding through butter.
An unwanted memory that could creep up anytime. One absent mind. One quick hard smash back to reality.
“You did it… you killed me.”
It usually killed her perky spirit. Had killed it today. Not wanting to venture down again, not wanting to partake in the afternoon activities of forced joviality and nonsensical banter. Not wanting to make small talk about Faith and the impending nearness of her departure. No - the big talk with Kennedy had been enough to sustain her through the hours of solitude. Had led her to work out exactly what it was that she had to do.
And do pretty soon if the shadows across her bed were anything to go by.
The hour of sunset had always called to Buffy; since the moment she had been called as a slayer she had known inherently when the sun was bidding its nightly farewell. Not needing a clock. Not needing anything except the pumping of her pulse and the thumping in her heart. Barely perceptible. The slightest change. Tick, tick, tick. Pupils dilating just a fraction. A slight tightness of muscle. Ready for action.
Sliding back the lock on her door.
The lobby of the Hyperion sat deserted as the minute hand ticked its way towards sunset. Just dim light left to catch the dust dancing. Nobody about to witness the stealth of the slayer - sliding through shadows, creeping soft to the desk. Buffy had expected a crowd, had thought that she would have to use her greatest powers of persuasion to carry out the final act in the unsatisfactory conclusion. But no. The troops were disassembled and her pathway lay clear.
Great!
Or terrifying.
Her skin slightly clammy as she took the now familiar steps down into a now familiar basement. Holding just the tiniest bit tighter to the scythe in her grasp. Just an extra slice of courage, an affirmation of the feeling that she meant to set free.
“Faith?”
All commanding like. Not a trace of her uncertainty. Not a hint of an answer. Stepping forward. Her eyes sent skirting into the shadows of the prison in a bid to search out her quarry. Like hide and seek. Like more games. Except that games were supposed to be fun, and the figure that finally stepped away from the wall to meet Buffy’s stare was not bathed bright in the glows of fun and frolics. A stone set hardness in her eyes. A rasp of exhaustion from her mouth.
“Now what?”
“Technically? - now nothing. Angel will be here soon.”
Buffy could see the gaze flicking quick across the scythe, caught the momentary confusion as Faith’s eyebrows did the low down dip. The tiny twist of a snarl that curled up her lip.
“You finally found the balls to finish the job?”
“You could say that. In a way. Kind of.”
“About fucking time.” A snarl that dared to twist perversely into a smile - that dared to put some joy into her phrases. “Nice choice of weapon B - much bigger than last time. You gonna go for the guts again?”
“No Faith. I was thinking more the heart.”
Stunning the eyes. Confusing the eyebrows again. And Buffy knew why. She knew exactly what it was that her own eyes were showing - the things that Kennedy had called her on in seconds - the things that had always been kept guarded from Faith - “You do have a heart, right?”
Pouring out in seas of green. Not so scared anymore; not afraid of consequences when the situation already felt so much like death. Like loss. So sick to the pit of her stomach of loss. Staring out the sentiment across the secluded space which lay between them. And she wanted to venture forward - would have to venture forward at some point; but at this point her legs were not moving. Frozen by the face behind the mask. Aching from the need which sounded so desperate in Faith’s voice.
“Can’t you do this without the talking?”
And god.
Faith really believed that this could be an attempt at an execution? She wanted this to be an execution?
“Sorry Faith. I can’t do that. I’m never gonna finish that job…”
The crash of a fist against bars making her jump. One step back. Two steps back.
“Well fuck off then! Just FUCK OFF!!”
The crazed rage making her instantly reconsider her barely thought out plan. But where would that get her? Where would she ever get if she didn’t finally confront what had simmered inside for too many years?
Be brave. Be honest.
“I’m not going anywhere, Faith.”
Not even thinking about the risks of heinous acts and definite mortal consequences. Oh no. Buffy wouldn’t consider anything except her goal, would not focus upon anything except the task which lay at hand. The keys which lay in her hand…
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
Selecting the right one to fit in the groove. Sliding it all the way in until it rested just right. Pausing.
“You said to me I keep all this locked up - that I’ve always kept it locked up - and you’re right Faith. God are you right…”
Twisting the key. The satisfactory clunk.
“…and now I’m setting it free. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Set it free?”
Buffy couldn’t prevent the second pause. Like dangling from the highest precipice and knowing that at any moment you were going to freefall into an eternal abyss. There had to be a pause. One final breath of sanity before she let it all out. Before she let Faith out. Not the only one trying to cling tight to denial…
“Don’t do that B… you don’t wanna be doing that…”
“Why not? You said that this is what I did wrong - I’m only undoing my wrongs. Setting things right. I’m sick of the tidy boxes, I’m sick of telling myself that you’re someone I’m supposed to hate. I don’t hate you.”
The words forcing Faith back, making her head shake and her fists clench. The air around Buffy coming alive with the sweet sensation of anticipation. Expectation. Feeling the electricity, tasting the danger.
The door flung wide. Stepping purposely inside.
“This is what you wanted Faith, so here I am. No more bars. Nothing left but me and you. So what do ya say? - are you still thirsting for revenge or are you ready to hear me out?”
So strange to be inside of the cage, to take a look at the room from Faith’s perspective. The dankness of the cell. The darkness in the shadows. The non surprise of the backhand that landed hard across her face. Just below her eye. Breaking skin. A scratch.
“Revenge it is then?”
“What the fuck are you doing B, what’s this supposed to prove?”
That snarl stalking her now in purposeful circles. Ignoring the openness of the door. Focused only in one place - “You think I won’t kill you?”
Focusing right back.
It was like Buffy had said; there was power in an instant where everything sat just as it should. In tune and synchronised. Her breaths finding Faith’s. Her stance settling down to match the challenge.
“I think you couldn’t if you tried.”
Smiling tight at the harsh laughter.
“Still so fucking superior. You know I can take you B… just been waiting on a chance.”
“Maybe you can. I’m not questioning the ability though Faith, I’m questioning the desire. You don’t want me dead. If you’d wanted me dead, we wouldn’t be here now. We both know that.”
A fist this time. Snapping her head back, twisting her neck.
“Stop kidding yourself. How much fucking clearer can it get…”
A foot nestled snug against her stomach. A rush of air from her lungs.
“…I hate you B.”
Her body backed slowly up against the wall. Letting the hand wrap slender around her neck. Words whispered up close, everything up close. “I could do it right now if I wanted… squeeze the life right out of you. Watch you die. Get you the fuck out of my head forever.” The ragged feel of bitten nails digging sharp against skin. “This is what I always wanted.”
Eyes digging sharper. Buffy could feel the cold wall making shivers against her back, could feel the breaths raking hot against her skin. Found the strength to speak.
“What about what I want Faith..?”
“Fuck what you want.”
Still so close. Her one word mantra.
“No.” Pushing back. Finding the fury for her own gaze. “Not fuck what I want - I’m sick of fucking what I want! You hurt me too Faith, I’ve got scars in places that still feel the pain - don’t I get to demand a little retribution? Surely I have to have a turn at smacking you around and pretending it’s all about revenge?”
She saw the light go out. Watched the arms drop and shoulders shrug. Witnessed again the eyes that begged for an execution.
“Yeah? You want it, go for it B. Take your best shot.”
The intensity from the touches gone in an instant. Just a sitting target. And Buffy looked. And she saw. And she knew. All of the reasons she could never let go. What Faith needed. Doing as she had promised. Aiming for the heart.
“My best shot? Okay. I don’t want you to leave.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Get away from me.”
Taking her turn to do some stalking of her own. Letting her feet dictate the pace, letting Faith dictate the direction of their descent into yet another corner. Back into the darkness.
“No. You wanted my best shot; this is it. As crazy as it sounds, I want you to stay… I want us to put all of the bad stuff behind us, work through it - do whatever it is that you’re supposed to do with the bad stuff…” not resisting another step. An infringement of space. Letting the unmistakable energy draw her in closer. “…I want us to be back on the same team, fighting the same fight. God Faith, do you know how many times I visited you in hospital? Holding your hand while I moaned about the hardness of every day I fought alone, while I told you about all of the things that I never meant for you to miss…”
“Get away…”
Barely a whisper. A plea.
“I never told you though Faith, how I felt. I never told you why I was sitting there night after night, I never had the courage to tell you what it was that I always wanted.”
“Please B…”
Breaths shaky. So shaky.
“You always knew though, didn’t you? Always waiting for me to admit it, to accept it. I think you knew in the end how hard it would’ve been… maybe that’s why you pushed so much for me to hate you - you were just as scared as I was. Well I’m done denying, Faith. I’m done denying you. I care about you, I always cared about you. The first moment I felt you… that last moment, the look in your eyes…”
Her own eyes stinging.
“…what do I want? What have I always wanted?”
“No.”
“Yes. I want you Faith. Here, with me. I want you.”
And had her heart ever broken in two so succinctly? Staring into eyes that met hers without cover. Open and honest and terrified. And backing away. Fists balled to push at Buffy’s shoulders, mouth twisting to slide that one word mantra right back her way.
“No.” Hoarse and heavy, gaining volume. “No, no, no!”
“Faith…”
“Just shut the fuck up! Stop screwing with my head, god… I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this!!”
“It’s okay…”
“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for every fucked up thing I ever did; I wish it never happened, I wish none of it had ever happened! Just leave me alone… just leave me the fuck alone.”
She couldn’t - not if her life depended on it.
Buffy would back down though. She had never meant any of this. Every instinct urging that she to go to Faith, that she find a way to hold her close, to shoulder the sighs that kept rising from the open cage. Every warning begging for no. She had pushed to the breaking point. She had spoken out loud. There was nothing left to deny.
Settling back. The stairs offering no comfort. Cold against her bones as she watched the last of the day disappear. As her blood rushing fast let her know that Angel was here.
And she didn’t turn her head as he entered. Stayed stone still as he passed her by, as he violated the silent space of the basement.
“What happened?”
Surprise voiced at finding the door open and unlocked.
“Nothing happened. I was giving Faith an early taste of freedom. I guess she didn’t want it.”
“And this?”
He leant down and ran a cold finger across her cheek - making another shiver - showing her the blood that sat accusing on his hand. “What happened?”
“I walked into a door.”
“Buffy…”
“Just leave it Angel. Nothing happened. Everything’s fine.” Bending down. Retrieving the scythe. “I was just getting ready to go slay, thought I’d say goodbye first.”
Whatever. Smiling a greeting as Wesley made his own entrance into the basement, smirking at the way he seemed to creep his way down the stairs. Eyes darting. “Hello Buffy. Nice to see you looking so well.” Not noticing her split cheek, not noticing anything. “So where is she?”
“She, is here.”
And indeed she was.
No trace of a timid tone left in her voice. Nothing but the mask of indifference to greet her new found freedom. Her grand exit through the door to the cage.
“Wow Wes, someone sure decked you out with a big dose of the dark and rugged. Best looking watcher I ever saw.”
“I’m not a watcher anymore Faith, I work with Angel now.”
“You do?”
His nod. His vulnerability.
Buffy saw it in an instant. Watching Faith feed from it, watching her step closer with that leering smile of seduction fixed firmly back in place. “Guess we’ll be working pretty close together then. Maybe you can help me tackle those hard to reach places…”
“I think we can go now.”
Angel interrupting the moment.
And she wanted to laugh at the fire that flared so bright in Faith’s eyes. That instant where she could see so clearly the urge to strike. Understanding the feeling. This was it. She wanted to cry.
“Wait Angel… can I just get a minute…”
“I doubt that’s best Buffy. I’ll call you when we get her back to mine, she’ll be okay.”
No.
“I wasn’t asking. Give us a minute - we’ll both be fine.”
She watched him look at Wes. Watched him take even longer to look at Faith. Finally coming back to rest on her. “Two minutes. We’ll be waiting upstairs.”
Two minutes?
Two minutes of silence?
And what?
What was so mind-blowingly earth shattering that just by its bare whisper, Buffy could make everything okay between them?
She thought it through as she listened to Angel and Wesley take the stairs. The soft whoosh of air as the door closed behind them. The lacking of air as the basement closed in around her.
Not the one speaking out loud this time.
“I don’t wanna hear it. Whatever it is that you can possibly have left to say; I don’t want to hear it. I’m out of here… that’s it.”
Not moving though.
“Maybe you got some of that Sunnydale dust left in your eyes; I dunno. But this is all bullshit. Probably just a little of that guilt thing working against ya B - forget it - we’ll call it quits. You stay out of my way, I’ll stay the hell out of yours.”
“Did you not listen to a single thing I said?”
“Heard it all. Real nice it was too. The bit about hospital visits? Way touching. Kinda hard to confirm when the hospital’s buried in rubble though…”
“I brought you your clothes. Is that proof enough?”
“You did what?”
“Your clothes Faith. Your jacket, your boots. I had to buy new jeans, a top - the blood stains weren’t so easy to get out…”
“That was you?”
“Who’d you think it was?”
“I figured… I dunno… The Mayor, I guess. Wasn’t really thinking anything when I woke up. I just wanted to…”
Falling into silence. Tick. Tick. Tick.
And for a moment - just the briefest of seconds - Buffy thought that the breakthrough was coming. That the offering of clothes would be enough. That the proof that she had never left Faith would be enough to stop her leaving. Those brown eyes deeper than she had ever seen them… the air seeming to pause for the charge to gather…
And then not.
“I better get going. Angel’s waiting.”
“Right.”
Watching her back. A slow steady pace.
“Faith?”
A pause.
“I know you don’t wanna hear me, you don’t wanna listen to anything I have to say - but that doesn’t change things. I’m still gonna be here - I’m not going anywhere. I’m not giving up on you again.”
The shoulders lifting in a sigh, a hand lifting to run tight through the hair.
“Nothing but a waste of time, B.”
Walking away. Leaving.
A satisfactory conclusion.
Angel let his eyes linger on the form of the sleeping slayer for one long peaceful moment before he turned to leave. Tucking her in with a contemplative gaze, wishing her sweet dreams with one of his drawn out brooding sighs. Every night since her arrival he had done this, and every night he had wondered the same; could he really save someone that didn't seem to want saving?
He had worked with a refusal to believe it at first. For so many years he had observed the human spirit, had watched with awe and wonder the way that it always seemed to manage to triumph, no matter the depths to which it had plummeted - but not Faith. Sure - he saw glimpses, he caught moments where her eyes had softened and her mouth had smiled, but they were the exceptions. The milliseconds that were buried beneath the hours in a day. She refused a belief in humanity. She almost delighted in tearing it down.
"…yeah, well that's where you're wrong. There's no nasty thing that I could do that hasn't been done before. People are bad Angel, people are fucked up… that's life. Sink or swim."
The philosophy that he had drawn out of her through a constant barrage of conversation. "You think you're swimming, Faith?"
"What's it matter?"
Drowning.
And to her, he could see that it didn't matter. Or it didn't matter to her whether it mattered to him. He wasn't sure which. Wasn't sure if she really was past the needing to be saved, or if she was simply hiding her desire beneath layers more intricate than any that he had previously encountered. Protecting herself from the world which she claimed was only out to get her; had only ever been out to get her.
"…Different voice, same shit. You think I never heard this crap before - oh Faith, you're so very special, you know you could really be someone? - exact same thing my mom used to say before she'd get tanked and smack the crap out of me. Then there was good ol' Uncle Pete… he used to love to build me up before he sent me down…"
Eyebrows all a swagger, hips rotating a suggestiveness that he didn't need to hear. Pretty sure of the down that she meant she'd been sent to.
Angel had learnt over the last few days how much Faith could delight in the depravity of her past - almost wielding it as a new defence - her words able to twist and curse, her face able to find pleasure in the perverse. Something that had begun the more he insisted that they talk about Sunnydale.
Something which she really didn't want to talk about.
Those were the moments that made him think of the more - of the things that existed beneath the layers - of the things which she was trying so hard to protect herself from. The only word she hadn't mentioned, made only more ominous by its glaring absence. They had danced around it, had fleeted their feet in steps round the issue - but whereas before Faith had seemed adamant in her need to voice the name of the one that had ruined her life, now she seemed as if that one did not exist. The time when he had tried to force it, being the time that Faith allowed him to see how much her strength had improved, how close she was to complete physical recuperation.
"Buffy's been calling again. She wants to know if you're ready to talk…"
"I told you already…"
"You have to face up to it sometime Faith; the hurt that you caused, the people that…"
And she had flown from the sofa. Attacking him with such fury, with such pain, that for a moment he had been unable to protect himself. Inert beneath her, taking the punches.
"Shut up!" Smashing down into his face. "You think I need to hear what she has to say… you think I care about what she wants…"
He suspected that she cared a lot.
It had been another of those moments where the layers were ripped away, where the pain that she had been trying to inflict was only a reflection of the pain that shone so bright in her own eyes. The way that she had gasped to a halt - had rolled herself off of him, away from him.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Seeking refuge in the bed. Pretending at sleep that he knew she was feigning. Her face still twitching with the memories, his face still twitching with the truths that were revealed in her silences. In her punches.
And he knew that he hadn't been wrong before. Angel had lived far too many lifetimes not to recognise the catalyst behind the slayers deadly connection - why they had grabbed so thirstily for hate - the emotion that existed just beyond the thin line. Always a suspicion, always something that had shone in the green eyes of his girl when Faith was around. Something that still shone in her green eyes now.
He tossed out another sigh as the elevator doors opened up on his empty moonlit office, as he remembered every recent pained and strained conversation that he'd been forced to have with Buffy.
"…She hasn't mentioned me at all..? Eight days and not once? Not even a little - hey, tell Buffy I wish her dead. Or maybe a vague little list of all the really wicked cool places that she wants to hide my body parts…"
"She's in denial Buffy, she doesn't want to confront the thing that terrifies her. She won't let herself confront it."
"Great. So now I terrify her?"
"Not you, it's not that simple. What terrifies her is the way you make her feel - maybe the way you've always made her feel. It would certainly explain a lot."
She had pled ignorance for all of five seconds. Had stood before him and pulled her slayer face, had growled her slayer growl and gnashed her slayer teeth - and he had remained impassive before her. He had known that she would open up when asked; this was Buffy and he knew Buffy. He knew her heart.
When he had explained his theories, had explained a background story that she had always guessed at but never known; explained why it was that Faith needed to manifest her feelings as hatred in the extreme… then she had spoken the words that he asked for. Explained as best she could what she saw as the situation.
"You need to be straight with me Buffy, I need to know what it is that we're dealing with. Was there ever anything between you and Faith - is there still something between you and Faith?"
"Define, `something'."
"Buffy…"
"Okay - you asked. Yes. To both things. Don't ask me the what, why or how, because honestly? I don't have a clue. But something… maybe. Yes. Always."
"Always?"
Unable to stop himself asking. He may have been the most mature of all men, may have had a double century of years to get a handle on an emotion as jaded as jealousy - but he still needed to ask. Silently grimacing as her eyes had dropped away from him, as she had confirmed his heart's worst fears.
"There was always something. I didn't mean it Angel, I sure as hell didn't ask for it… but it was there. I could feel her. She could feel me."
"A slayer thing, a supernatural connection?"
"No. That was different… less intense. It was like I…"
Eyes widening that time. Almost as if she had realised at the last what she was about to say - who she was going to say it to.
"What is it Buffy?"
Urging forth the words.
"It sounds weird, but I guess you could say that I… I don't know. I craved her? It's like she had a way to get under my skin, she made me feel different. Everything just always felt more with Faith. Do you understand?"
Of course he did.
He had smiled and nodded and swallowed down the last of his disappointment, and he had sat next to her as they spoke further of the ramifications of every denied feeling - how rejection had sought to get tied up with every other bad thing that Faith was already dealing with. How Buffy's prominence had only ever made Faith feel less - feel worthless. How fate had twisted to make the bad stuff stain. Mistakes. Regret. Revenge. A wrestle for superiority.
"If she can beat you, then she's no longer beneath you. She can tell herself she's better than you, tell herself that she's the one doing the rejecting. It makes sense for her."
"What if I wasn't rejecting?"
"You mean…"
"Why not? I can't deny the way she makes me feel anymore - seems like I'm doing a pretty crappy job of hiding it from people - so why not? If that's what it takes to make her better…"
"I never said that."
"No, but it makes sense, right? It's gotta make more sense than sliding a knife through her stomach."
And maybe it made more sense to Buffy that way, but Angel still wasn't sure that it made more sense to Faith. She seemed to want the violence, she seemed to wish that Buffy had finished the job properly the first time. She craved the comfort of the knife in her belly.
But she wouldn't speak a word of it.
Even Angel, a vampire accustomed to more nights spent brooding than the average re-ensouled demon, was driving himself close to crazy trying to reason through everything that he knew. In one moment he could transcribe one emotion to explain one action, and in the next, totally explode his own theories with explanations for different acts. In truth he wouldn't know anything until Faith chose to speak.
The last week and a half had seen him try everything. From the unending act of talking constantly at her, to the extreme decision to relax the binds of the Shamen, he had exhausted every possibility. He had watched from afar as she had bunkered down with Xander and a box full of comics - had tried the same technique;
"I had the original edition Batman, from when it first came out - I always liked the caped crusader - all those zany battles with evil…"
"Save your wet dreams for bedtime. I'm trying to read."
Not given admission into the exclusive comic club. It grated a little. Especially when he had seen Andrew being accepted so graciously onto his bed to discuss whether or not some ultimate evil's character could be redeemed by one act of complete and selfless bravery.
That was the discussion that Angel wanted to have. They were the foundations for the things that he wished to broach with Faith. Whether she was redeemable. If she was ready to step out of the darkness.
Kept at bay though. His ears only bashed by the subjects that she would let him broach. Pre-Sunnydale. Nothing that really meant anything. Everything that meant something. More and more of those layers to peel back. He had found out where the connection with the comics had first come from - had heard all about the reasons why she'd first put her faith in superheroes.
"…so I'm all wide eyed and innocent, looking through this guy's collection, and next thing you know his dick's in my face. Seriously - like this dude is supposed to be some Outreach for Care-kids leader, and he sticks his fucking dick down my throat. Said if I did it good I could keep the comics - figured I'd be doing it anyway, may as well get something out of it…"
Thrown out so nonchalantly. Her voice only offering the slightest betrayal at the last.
"…been hooked ever since. Guess it's funny the things you can forget about, when you've got somewhere else to go."
And she had smiled sadly, without masks. Had buried her eyes back in her latest edition. The gifts from Xander. Except that he had noticed how long it took for her to turn that first page - just staring blankly - her mind a million miles from anywhere that she had ever allowed him to follow. Finding her refuge in that somewhere else.
All of it had prompted him to seek help in the most unlikely of places. The first of the most unlikely of places. Xander Harris. Summoned into his office after one of his many visits and asked for help. Angel had wanted to choke on the words, didn't really have any wish to be asking for help from Xander, but he'd swallowed the discomfort and made the sacrifice. He had become intrigued by Faith. Attached to her. He wanted to help her not for his own redemptive quest, but for hers. He wanted to save her soul.
"…So you see, nothing I say makes any difference. I've exhausted all of the angles I can think of - I don't know what else to offer her."
"And you want my help?"
"Yes."
"I guess you could say that you need my help?"
"Is this really necessary?"
"Not at all - it is kinda enjoyable though. It's like therapy for the high school years - I'm feeling all warm inside."
"That's nice. Do you want to talk about how Faith feels inside?"
And he knew Xander too. As much as the guy irritated him, and he irritated him a lot, he had utmost respect for the person that he knew him to be. For all the time that he had stayed at Buffy's side, happy to play in the background as long as he was allowed to help.
"What do you need me to do?"
As easy as that.
Angel had explained the lay of the land to him, had disclosed just the smallest of secrets in an attempt to broaden his horizons, and he had sent him into battle. Seeing if he was the one who could persuade Faith to talk about the past that wasn't so distant; the things that she cried out about when her eyes were closed and sleeping…
Almost causing a catastrophe of the most explosive proportions.
With the great gift of hindsight, Angel could see how wrong his judgement had been; he should never have asked Xander. He should never have taken away from Faith the one and only thing that had seemed to bring her any level of happiness. His mistake realised as he had listened silent behind the door, as he had heard the words that tripped so fast towards disaster.
"…I told you, no! We're not doing this - we're not going there. We don't have to talk about this. Isn't that what you said?"
"I know what I said Faith, I meant what I said… I don't know though, maybe you need to talk about it? I spoke to Angel…"
"You fucking what?"
"He told me some stuff, he thinks that I could help."
"Just couldn't resist it, could ya?" Instantly recognising the sound of danger. The nastiness that was creeping up on her tone to wrap tight around the words - "Throwing out fakes of the straight guy, when it's all about fucking me over again. Did she send you… are you still playing errand boy for Buffy?"
"Faith…"
"Don't act scared Xander. You wanted to get in the game; I'm ready to play. Is this what you've been dying to talk about?"
The sounds of a struggle had urged him into throwing back the door. Finding a scene straight out of a memory: Faith's hands squeezing the life from Xander's throat, her face lost somewhere in the look of a killer. And she hadn't turned on his entry, hadn't even noticed his arrival. Everything focused on destruction - everything screaming out to him that he would have to conclude the scene in the same old sorry way. Prepared to strike her - determined to hold her back. His punch restrained by the words from Xander's throat - the desperate plea for Faith, the strangled sounds of stop. Like a moment of clarity. Her eyes wild and panicked. Edging slowly back.
"Get away from me… stay the fuck away from me!"
Refocusing. Fleeing. Dragging her body away from Xander with savage shakes and the sweat of surrender.
It had only enforced all of Angel's beliefs that Faith needed to face up to her past in Sunnydale and she needed to do it soon. He had seen behind the wild eyed look. Had understood exactly what she had been terrified of in that instant. And it wasn't Buffy, it wasn't the things that Buffy could make her feel - it was herself - the things that she was seeing herself do, the acts that she was capable of committing. And maybe even with hindsight, Angel would've still sought to use Xander in his quest to save a soul. For the realisation he had seen in Faith's eyes that night was worth a thousand catastrophic explosions, a million misplaced friendships. He had seen regret and revulsion. He had witnessed the spirit still fighting inside.
And still she would not speak it.
Angel had done his best to pacify Xander, had allowed Faith the time to cool off after her outburst - and then he had approached her again. Had used his most soothing tones to draw her in and offered his most placating phrases to draw her out. All of it discarded in the same way that she had sought to discard the comics. Trashed by the bedside. Torn to pieces. Not even the twisted tales of a former youth offered up that night.
Two nights ago. The time when he had finally decided against all of his better judgement and started listening to the voices in his head. Though not really in his head; more like surrounding his head. Doing everything they could to make sure that they were heard. Constantly.
"…Stop being such a bloody poof - you know I've got a special touch with slayers. Let me at her."
"Let you at her? Is that gonna be your whole approach?"
"I'm not talking approaches, I'm talking a little light entertainment. So how crazy is she?"
It had been a constant assault. At first Angel had fought back through ego - he did not want Spike, albeit a ghostly form of Spike, succeeding in a place that he had not succeeded. It was hard enough to listen to his constant tales of conquering Buffy - Angel doubted that he could deal if Spike became Faith's champion too.
Then he had fought back with sense. William the Bloody was hardly anyone's likely choice for role model of the year. Except here they were dealing with Faith, and nothing else seemed to be working.
He was only waiting now. Sat uncomfortable in the comfy chair in his office and awaiting Spike's appearance. The moment when he would give a reason for saving Faith's soul - something a whole lot more meaningful than light entertainment - another chance for Spike to be Buffy's champion.
And Angel only hoped that it worked. That he could get the self-centred vampire to help him in his quest.
He really had nothing else left.
Far across town, in a basement that should have sat empty, there was still somebody stood there, solemnly on guard. Keeping a silent vigil. Thinking through in their own mind all of Faith's latest and greatest exploits into yet more madness.
Xander couldn't help being down there. In amongst everything that was happening, it seemed the only safe place to be. His throat still a little sore, his heart still a little bit broken. And he supposed he should have known, he supposed he shouldn't have pushed… but…
But he had wanted to help.
The things that Angel had told him, the secrets that he had charged his ears to hear, were not the things of bedtime reading. Oh no. They were words that he had recoiled from hearing, situations that he had thanked god most heartily that he hadn't had to survive. He had realised in an instant why Faith couldn't trust - and in the instant after, he had proven it to Faith yet again. So stupid. So thoughtless.
He had been lost in a need to go to her though, wrapped up in some dumb fantasy where his friendship would've been enough to have her stripping down her walls and letting him in. Not holding him up against those walls with a fist wrapped firmly around his throat. She had stopped though. She had heard his plea.
It was offering comfort.
"Xander? What are you doing down here?"
His head turning now, as Buffy's voice broke through his lengthy self recriminations. Surprising him a little, making him jump.
"Oh, Hey. Why with the sneaky slayer?"
"Who's sneaking? I didn't think anyone was down here. Why are you down here?"
"I'm hiding out from the joy fest upstairs. There's way too much joy involved."
"There's a joy fest? We're festing?"
"Something like that. Will has all the girls whipped up into a frenzy about leaving - she even played the duty card. Apparently we're putting lives at risk by taking time off. Now everyone's running around screaming about where they want to go, when they want to go……"
"Willow's such a spoilsport. I like time off, time off is of the good. You know I actually read a book last week. A whole one, with big words. I haven't read a book in years."
"Yeah? How are Dick and Jane?"
"It's Jill and Jane nowadays, the world has gone progressive. "
"What happened to Dick?"
"I think he's renting a condo down in the Keys. It's all a bit vague."
He laughed at her humour as they lapsed into silence. Both of them staring emptily at the cage. Both of them wishing that they didn't feel quite so empty. Xander could sense it encompassing Buffy as easily as he felt it consuming himself. She was hurting, he was hurting.
"Where do you think you'll end up, Buff?"
"Probably not the Keys. I don't know. Dawn wants to stay with Giles - I guess I'd like to stay with him too. At least for now - till I find my feet again."
"England then?"
"Mother country beware! It seems as good a place as any, and Willow liked it there. What about you - where in the world's getting the pleasure of Xander?"
A hard question. Xander had started to think it through as soon as Willow had started the suggestion. So funny how keen she was to leave - how soon after her little one on one with Faith she had looked to raise the idea. He had confronted her about that - had looked to find the explanations behind her words. But he hadn't. She had swished him aside with talk about danger, about protecting Buffy from a revenge fuelled Faith. When he had asked her more specifically about her exact choice of words, she had done the wide eyed look of innocence and told him that he should talk to Buffy if he wanted to know the truth.
But he hadn't. Not yet.
It was easier to hide in a basement and mourn the loss of a friendship. Mourn the space that he had placed between himself and his comic book buddy. Thinking out loud now… close to the truth.
"Where will I go? What does it matter? - you don't need me anymore, you've got more than enough cover for your back with all of the slayerette newbies. Maybe I won't go anywhere."
"This from the man that saved my life. Twice! You really think I don't still need you - are you crazy Xander? I'll always need you."
"Maybe I'm needed more here."
"Here? Is this because of Faith?"
The answer was all in his gaze. Lifting up from the floor of the cage to settle into green.
"Aren't you going to England because of Faith?"
"Where did that come from? Has she said something?"
A smile tugging soft at the corner of his mouth. "Are you kidding me? The one and only time that Faith has mentioned your name was in the second before she went all throttle crazy again. I'm just guessing… trying to make sense of the insanity."
"Well, no. I'm not going to England because of Faith. I'm going because of Dawn and Giles. And me. And when the heck did Faith go throttle crazy - is that a motorbike thing?"
"No. More a hands around the neck thing. Day before yesterday."
"Oh. Wait - what?! Are you okay?"
"Great. She stopped before she crushed my windpipe and I like the taste of the lozenges. So if Faith wanted you to stay, you'd really still just go off globetrotting? "
Xander knew that he was pushing again, but in the mood that he was in, he didn't much care. Just sick of seeming to be the only one not clued into the loop. Not getting to hear from the horse's mouth what everyone else was whispering about.
"If Faith wanted me to stay, I'd probably die from the shock. What's this all about Xander - what's going on?"
Her eyes penetrating deep.
And Xander got to see for himself in the dingy light of the basement why everyone else was whispering. A certain softness that wasn't there before. A certain acceptance. Giving him the confidence to speak out loud without feeling quite so crazy.
"You and Faith, what you said to me before… about the way she makes you feel, what it's like when you're together. You meant all of that, didn't you? You were telling me something, but I didn't listen."
"And now you're listening?"
"Now I'm listening. I think I've got it, I just don't understand it. You and Faith - I mean, did you ever…"
"Xander! No!"
He hadn't been able to say those words out loud; had used his hands to mime the action, or what he thought the action might be. Had caused shock just the same.
"I never… we never… god, you think I… wow…"
"Sorry."
"No, just - wow. I'm not even going there. I care about her Xander, I want to make things right between us, and maybe, if we don't kill each other in the process; I'd like to get to know her better. But that - I can't… I don't think my brain can handle the images right now."
"They are kinda steamy."
"And that's the PG rated version."
And he laughed again. He laughed properly. Accepting that maybe Buffy did still need him in her own special way. Delighting in igniting her eyes, bringing the smile back to her face. Finding banter to soften the blow of her latest romantic adventure.
Buffy and Faith.
It had merit when compared to Buffy and anyone dead. Or enlisted. The aesthetical advantages of Faith far outweighing anyone in a uniform. But… wow. Holy cow. So the slayers were secret members of Willow's secret society..? With the group meets… and the group… stuff. And the…
Willow.
It hit him hard and sudden and it all made perfect sense. So much sense that he almost forgot himself and launched himself into Buffy's arms. Almost. He truly had been the one that saw. All of the dynamics. All of the back biting. All of the out of proportion jealousy that fuelled the still burning animosity. Xander realised in that moment that he had not been the only Scoob who had harboured secret fantasies of Buffy dressed in little more than a rain mac. Who had harboured secret fantasies about breaking into her heart.
And it made the basement pointless. He had found his answers. He knew all of the secrets. Now it was time to prove that he was still useful for a whole lot more than just fetching donuts and whittling stakes.
Xander had asked for Faith's friendship. Now he was going to find a way to earn it.
Buffy took one look at the chaos going on below her, and immediately wished that she could turn and head away from the stairs. Maybe slide back beneath the covers of her bed, maybe slide her eyes over another of the books that she had been taking such joy in reading. Downtime. Absolute, unhindered, downtime. No immediate crisis looking to pull her back towards another apocalypse, no girl in the basement sending her mind towards all sorts of crazy.
It was a freedom that she was enjoying.
The first couple of days after Faith's departure, Buffy had not coped well at all. Constantly tense. Waiting for the call that would signal the start of yet more hardship…
It hadn't come though. No matter how many nightmare scenarios she had told herself to expect, none of them had come to pass. Faith hadn't tried to kill Angel. She hadn't hunted Buffy down in the middle of the night and finally forced her issues of revenge. As far as Buffy could tell, Faith hadn't done much of anything. The days passing slow and the nights passing longer, until finally she had begun to relax. Her sights refocused on the world that she had saved, her thoughts refocused on what happens next…
Hence the standing high on the stairs and looking out at the chaos which reigned down below. Not even able to call it a Scooby Meet anymore, when the whole affair was being overrun by slayers. Loud and proud slayers. Each one wanting to voice their choice for the future, none of them afraid to stand before Giles and demand that they had some say now on what was occurring. Maybe the biggest say.
Buffy admired their determination. Recognised their steel; strange to once again be getting used to sharing her power.
With Faith she had resisted from the outset, had muddied the waters with the misuse of feelings - a mistake she would not be making with this new opportunity. Not a chance. The girls would not allow her to make the same mistakes.
Buffy had been certain that Kennedy was the ringleader in amongst her newest bunch of friends, and certain proof had been offered the night that she had come just a little too close to losing it. Four nights after the loss of Faith. When she had still been caught in the desolate feel of failure; when every call put through to Angel was being answered exactly the same - "No Buffy, she's not ready to talk."
And she had wanted to scream. She had screamed. The scythe her only companion as she had fought to find clarity in the sacrificial slaying of demons - searching out the biggest and the baddest - seeking wisdom somewhere in the seductive sounds of death. At what point tears had started to cloud her vision, she could not remember; had just known that the howling was not all from the demons anymore. The feel as more blows had landed harsh against her body. Exhausting her defences. Everything exhausted in that moment. The moment where her mouth was forced to find agape as the girls had materialised in front of her - around her - surrounding her with an unbreakable ring of protection.
"Kennedy? What are you…"
"We've got your back."
As simple as that. Fighting for her. Laying to dust all of the loneliness that she had been forcing herself to feel.
It turned out that she had been oh so very wrong when she had taken the ride on the rescue bus out of Sunnydale; she didn't have nothing left, not at all. Buffy had a legacy to build, a connection to be nurtured. A whole group of girls that needed her guidance and her leadership…
Fastening her feet forward as she smothered the small smile provoked by Giles' loss of cool. By the indignation that sat so fierce below her, on the face of a fired up Kennedy.
"So you say England, and we all jump?! I've got a newsflash for ya Giles: we don't take orders from you, we don't want orders from you…"
"I am not ordering, Kennedy, I'm simply stating the fact that to try and establish some level of order, we need to first establish a central command centre, somewhere that-"
"You can direct and dictate and tell us all what to do?"
"No! For god's sake woman - Willow, could you please explain to Kennedy the virtue of working together on this?"
"Come on Sweetie, listen to Giles. You know that we can go wherever we want after we've set up a home base. And England is nice… it'll be fun."
Buffy caught the younger slayer's eyes then; marched with purpose into the centre of the confusion, the epicentre of the madness. "What's going on?"
Twenty voices all raised at once. Each of the slayers looking to stand behind Kennedy - and poor Giles - fluttering and spluttering all alone at the side.
"Put quite simply Buffy, it's anarchy. None of the girls will appreciate that the re-establishment of a council is vital to both their training and continued…"
"And HE won't appreciate that none of us gives a crap! We have each other - we don't need hangers on… people that think they can tell us what to do, and where to do it."
And she was expected to placate this mess?
It brought about another of the small smiles. A look of amusement exchanged with Dawn, a clearing of the throat and a drawing back of shoulders.
"Giles has a point, Kennedy - we need people to do the bookwork, to sort through the prophesies… there's the cleaning of weapons, the dressing of wounds…"
"Don't forget the fetching of the donuts."
"Exactly Xander, you can never underestimate the healing qualities of a well delivered pastry. Look, I know that you're all eager to go get your slayer groove on, but the best way to do that is to be prepared - to minimise risk. To make the best use of all of your resources. Without my `hangers on', I wouldn't still be here - you should think about that Kennedy. I know it seems a strange concept that people as strong and as powerful as us should need guidance, but that's precisely why we do need it; brawn is useless without the brains - Giles is our brain, I encourage you to use it."
At first silence greeted her little speech giving, then Andrew stifled a sob, and Giles duly cleared his throat.
"Very good Buffy, I believe that settles the question of the travel arrangements - we will all be going to England. I'll see to it that the reservations are made immediately. "
And that was the cue for more of the furore. Her own voice raised as heartily as the others, when a timeframe was to be decided for the mass exodus out of LA. Already accepting that she would be leaving, but still not able to take that first step, to really let go. Because letting go was a doable option when the distance was confined to the same city - but an ocean apart?
Time zones apart. A language apart.
England truly did seem like an alien nation when measured up against the things that she would be leaving behind. Buffy's heart was in America. Could she really bear to abandon it?
That was scary in the same way that every feeling she was having towards Faith was scary. Like fate had yanked on her timeline and now everything was confused. Five years ago she had first met Faith. Four years ago she had accepted that she would never meet her again. And now..?
Now was the scary part. Not sure if a depth of feeling was quite so deep because of the confusion… like if Faith had never woken up - would she still be feeling so empty now? Or would she have offered a silent farewell and then carried on with life without thought for the past? Maybe it simply was that the loss of her home had magnified a need to find refuge in something that felt all too familiar.
"What do you say, Buff?"
Having to shake her head to re-find the focus for her eyes. Settling on Xander; not able to pretend at hearing words she hadn't listened to.
"Say about what?"
Searching fleeting gazes to gain clues. Resting curious on Willow - wary of the caustic glare.
"Xander seems to think that we all need to stay here until Slutty Spice is feeling better again. I don't see why we need to waste the time."
"Slutty Spice? Did I miss the nineties girl-group revival?"
"She means Faith. And yes Will, I do think we need to stay here a little bit longer. Where would you have been if we weren't there for you when it went all bad? Oh, wait! We'd all be dead!"
"Funny."
"Not joking."
And what the hell was happening now?
No curious gaze was giving her an answer. No prolonged look in anyone's direction offering enlightenment. Just the pointed stand off between her two best friends. "Guys - you wanna explain?"
"Yeah Will. Wanna explain?"
Bringing forth more of the caustic.
"I'm not doing this! I'm sick of you trying to compare the things that I did, with what Faith did. I made a mistake Xander, something I regret - Faith is the mistake…"
"Why can't you stop acting like such a bitch?"
"I'm a bitch? Guess I'm lucky that you have such a soft spot for bitches these days…"
And it seemed that everyone had lost their minds. Her two oldest friends - the very cornerstones of her life - were currently butting heads with the forcefulness of thunder. Because of Faith. It offered sobriety for all of her little smiles, made her face reflect the turmoil that hadn't been dampened by distance. Still sat within the city limits.
"Can we stop this? Can we please just put a lid on it for the next five minutes? God, have you even listened to yourselves?"
Bringing sobriety to the masses.
"I think Xander makes a valid point. Like I said already; we don't mind hanging out in LA a little longer. We want to meet Faith."
Bringing words from Kennedy that did nothing to soften the acid tones of Willow. The disgust for her girlfriend's statement burning brightly in her eyes.
"This is so ridiculous. I'm not gonna be a part of this - I refuse to be a part of this - I'll be up in my room if anyone decides to maybe see sense."
And gone.
Giles' travel plans decimated for the day - no point in trying to talk sense with anyone, when it seemed that everybody was still losing their focus in Faith. Buffy had seen the thousand headshakes that the chaos had caused. Had waited until the others had left the lobby, and then she had looked to find her watcher. To soothe his worries. Pausing at the open door of the office to observe his sighs.
"Hey Mr Frowny Face - penny for them?"
"Ah Buffy, I'm just reminiscing on those good old days where the end of the world was all we had to worry about. I rather long for the simplicity."
"You do?"
"Absolutely. At least against The First I felt that I had a chance of succeeding. It's doubtful that I will ever possess the strength of will to succeed against Kennedy."
She made her way forward as he removed his glasses; his forefingers used to rub the bridge of his nose. To grab at his tension. The edge of his desk used as a seat for her ass.
"She's not that bad. Admittedly she has an extremely loud mouth; but her heart's in the right place. I get where she's coming from with Faith - they all feel the connection Giles, they're all curious about her."
"Be that as it may, it really isn't a problem that we need to be focusing on right now. Angel has given us his word that he will take care of her, and I really don't see that our continued presence here is going to do anything to influence the outcome. We have to move forward Buffy - we need to take a clear look at our situation and make plans for the future. I thought we'd agreed on this?"
And they had. She remembered nodding along to his wisdom. Wishing that she could refuse it. Yet even now, it still made sense - no matter that it meant the enactment of the whole oceans apart scenario, that her heart really would be abandoned in America - she knew most definitely that waiting around for the time that Faith was ready to talk, was not conducive to protecting the world.
"We did agree. I even agreed to the sightseeing bus tour with Dawn; but I can't force the others to agree. Maybe you need to talk to Willow - she might be able to bring Kennedy onside."
"Yes, because that relationship is just a blooming bed of roses right now. You've said yourself that you're managing to forge a closer bond with the slayers; perhaps now is the right time to utilise that - to be their leader?"
"As long as I lead them where you want them to go?"
She vacated her seat to stride out her words. Turning to face Giles with her eyebrows raised, a little tone of authority slipping back into her voice:
"They've told me they don't want to leave Faith behind, what am I supposed to do - what words do I use to tell them that abandoning her is the right way to go?"
"For starters, I'd leave out `abandoning'."
"I'm not kidding Giles, they're serious about this. Maybe I'm serious about this. How can you be so sure that she doesn't need us?"
It certainly felt like a valid question. In amongst all of her acceptances of the last few days, Buffy had also accepted that she didn't have all of the answers. There were still things that made her feel unsure.
"If Faith should need us, then I'm sure she'll be able to find us; we're going to England, Buffy, I'm not suggesting that we vacate the planet and colonise Mars. You'll probably be shocked to learn that England has that strange invention you Americans refer to as `the telephone'. If Faith does need something, then she will only have to call."
More sense?
Nonsense.
"You know full well that Faith would never call - she wouldn't say anything, even if she did need us."
"And that provides us with our current conundrum. We can't wait around indefinitely for Faith to not ask for a help, that we see she needs - it's a completely unreasonable situation. I hate to sound boring, but the world does still depend upon your services… you do still have a calling."
As if she could ever forget.
"And how do you manage to make boring, sound like the only option available? You know you're as bad as Willow - I was enjoying my downtime."
She wasn't allowed to though. The pout that she offered not changing her destiny; no amount of pining for something different doing anything to change her circumstances. She was still fate's bitch. Misery's mistress. Her smile of self pity already in place to welcome Giles' words of condolences.
"I'm sorry Buffy. You deserve downtime and you will have downtime; but first we need to get back on track - we need to salvage whatever we can from the council and start afresh. We have to find the new slayers, train the new slayers…"
"Yeah, yeah - I told you I got the boring; I just don't get the need for the urgency. Angel would surely know if there was something apocalyptic brewing - I would know if there was something crazy going down. Where's the harm in waiting a few more weeks?"
"How many more weeks are you suggesting?"
And was there a ballpark figure for all of eternity?
"I don't know…" Looking for something just a little more concrete, something to illustrate the overwhelming importance of her need to stay where they were. "…do you remember Giles, when Faith first went all unstable girl? She'd killed the deputy mayor, had done the near-death thing with Xander…"
"Of course I remember."
"I told you then that I wasn't gonna give up on her. Do you remember what you said to me?"
His blank look affirmed the no. Led her to repeat his words.
"`Then I think she stands a chance.' Well I think so too, Giles. I want her to have the chance."
Buffy had treasured those words at the time, had held them close to her heart and believed in them with everything that she was. Now she had found herself believing in them again.
"Do you also remember that Faith was already looking to play the double cross by then? It rather renders my words useless."
"Don't say that. I don't believe that."
Offering him a hardened sigh as he rubbed again at the bridge of his nose. Settling back on the desk to hear his closing arguments.
"I don't know what you do want me to say, Buffy. I have no idea if Faith will be able to redeem herself; Angel himself has no idea if she even wants the chance to be saved. Do I think that you make a difference to her condition? I'd be a damned fool to try and deny it; but that doesn't mean it's a good difference. You may well find that Faith does much better without your interference… isn't that what she herself has asked for?"
It was exactly what Faith had asked for.
"Yes." More of that acceptance sighed out. "Fine, okay - I'll speak again to Kennedy, I'll speak to the girls…"
She rolled her eyes heavenward as she lifted herself up, sought the strength in her shoulders that Giles expected to see. Smiling tight - a perky little wiggle of the fingers. Pausing on closing the door as he spoke to her once more.
"Two weeks Buffy - I really don't see what good it will do, but we'll postpone all of our plans to leave for another two weeks. I hope that it helps."
And it did. A little bit.
"Thank you."
A genuine smile offered then. Changing the direction of her thoughts from Kennedy to Willow, from leaving soon, to staying just a little bit longer. She instinctively knew that Will wouldn't like it. Was maybe a little bit timid as she took the stairs up to her room.
There was tension there. It had been brewing since they had last left the boundaries of Sunnydale - since Buffy had first struggled in her efforts to carry Faith onto the bus. A little sneer that had looked to sit so permanent on Willow's lips whenever the reawakened slayer was mentioned. And Buffy had tried - with all of the new feelings of old that she was remembering how to feel - she wanted nothing more than to go to her best friend for advice. For comfort. For some kind of understanding about all of her confusion.
Not a chance.
The sneer had sat there. Mocking in the eyes as Buffy had dared to bring voice to the things that she had shared with Kennedy. Not an ounce of sympathy.
"God Buffy. I thought you'd hit the bottom of the barrel with Spike; but Faith, for real - is this a joke?"
Rendering her speechless. Dictating that she should change the subject. Not liking the side of Willow that was exposed when her thoughts would lead her words to stray to Faith. Safer to stay away - to keep talk all light and pointless.
"…So did you visit London when you were in England? Does it really rain as much as they say it does?"
But not now. Not anymore. Buffy had only two weeks left to make anything about everything different - and she wanted all of her friends on side. She didn't want Xander and Willow crossing swords over Faith, she didn't want Kennedy and Willow falling apart over Faith. And she really didn't want to fall out herself with Willow over Faith…
And what the hell was the deal with Willow and Faith?
Angel was sat pensive in his office across town, finding himself more bemused about what the deal was with Spike and Faith…
A connection seeming to instantly form the first minute that Spike had made his grand entrance through the walls to the room - shocking her into silence - having her eyes looking all confused.
"What the fuck?"
"This is who I was telling you about, Faith - I'd like you to meet Spike."
"You're fucking kidding me? You can't be serious - you never said nothing about it being a ghost!"
"Boo."
The way that Spike had stood there so uninterested, as if his whole universe hadn't been altered by the sight of her. "So this is the bint then - I thought she'd be beefier."
"Screw you, I just spent four years in a coma."
"Boo-hoo?"
Rolling his eyes at her tale of woe. Looking away as she had sought to stand in his space.
"Bet I could still bust your ass, pretty boy."
"Yeah - if I wasn't a ghost, you moron." Turning away, fetching his step closer to Angel. "I guess Buffy got all of the brains. So where's the redeeming features you were blabbing on about?"
The start of a beautiful friendship.
Angel had wanted to denounce it; was still unsure that exposing Faith to Spike was really the right way to go if he wanted her to get some sanity back. A sense of goodness. But he couldn't denounce it. Spike it seemed could mention the B word at will, and not once had Faith looked at all affected by it. He thought that it was progress, he didn't, in any actuality, have the first clue what it was.
He had asked Spike of course. Had tried to insist that he share the words that were spoken - argued that he needed to know what was said, so that he could have a better chance of helping Faith:
"If she wanted you to know, she'd tell you herself. You can sod off if you think I'm sharing secrets with you. That wasn't part of the deal. I help the slayer - you make me whole again. My end is going well…"
And that had been that.
And then there had been this morning. Just another normal session with Faith, trawling back through memories far, far away. Until she had looked at him a little different. Biting at her lip for an age, finally finding the words to speak:
"So what's the deal with Spike - did he really get his soul back, just to impress Buffy?"
And that's when he had been shocked himself. He hated to admit it; but maybe Spike really did have a touch with slayers? Something he contemplated now - something he hadn't wasted time on this morning. Following Faith's direction so carefully, guarding each of his words.
"Is that what he told you?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Said he tried to hurt her real nasty, and then he went and got his soul back. Is he shitting me?"
"That's the basic story. He thought that doing the demon trials would win Buffy's heart - that if he had his human soul…"
"Did it work?"
"In a way, yes. She told me that he was in her heart - I don't believe that she was ever in love with him though. I hope not anyway."
"Because you still have the tragic hang-ups for her?"
"No, because Spike is an idiot. Buffy deserves better."
He had let her fall silent. Hadn't exclaimed any of his joy at what he saw as progression, hadn't browbeaten her into progressing any further. She had done that again on her own. Maybe with Spike's help - he was still contemplating.
"Angel, wait?"
Calling him back as he had sought to give her some peace.
"What is it?"
"Maybe you could - I dunno. Can you give the X-man a call? Ask him if he'd come by and see me, tell him to bring some new comics."
Not able to hide the silent pride in his eyes.
"Of course I will."
"It's probably a fucked up idea - doubt he'll wanna see me anyway, I wouldn't wanna see me…"
Leaving her to babble on at the walls as he had almost victory danced his way into the elevator. Mindful not to crow too early - not to tempt fate in the worst ways. It was a breakthrough that he had not expected; not at all sure what had provoked the easiness in her words, whether she would progress to allow him to talk about the bad times.
Whether she had already spoken to Spike about the bad times.
Just sat pensively. Waiting for the moment that she would come out of her shell and stay there. Hoping against hope that today had been the first day on her path towards redemption. He had pushed too fast too soon before, and this time he was determined to travel at Faith's pace. Not pushing the Sunnydale issue if she was happy to tread there herself - not doing anything other than devising ways for her to start feeling useful again. Like she was living again.
Like she was a slayer again.
Willow knew only how to seethe as she made the relentless pace back and forth across the boxed room of her bedroom. Everything had changed - everything was going wrong - and all of it, every single damned and cursed minute of it, was down to Faith. Willow had been learning to feel happiness again; her stomach fluttering at every glance from Kennedy, her heart learning how to heal as she had remembered how to love.
Not now though. Not when every other word exchanged with her new slayer sized girlfriend revolved around Faith. Always Faith. Every fucking thing, Faith:
"What was she like before the bad? Buffy said she was always getting you guys worked up, encouraging you to be naughty…"
"Can you please just shut up?"
"What? Did you just say what I think you said?"
"Yes Kennedy - shut up! Do you know how sick I am of hearing about the glorious enigma that's Faith? Well guess what? She's not glorious. She's a bitch. A grade A, dirty skank bitch. She was a bitch before the bad, and she's still a bitch now…"
And she had wanted to jump up and down in glee, proclaiming the bitchiness that was. Not able to do anything though, other than watch the retreating shape of her girlfriend's back. Not the first time, not the last time. So many arguments formed in amongst the lingering turmoil that had followed them from Sunnydale. Willow's least favourite so far, would have to be the night that Kennedy had dared to ask her to bare all of the hidden truths:
"You know I spoke to Buffy?"
"That's nice sweetie - I want you two to be friends."
"Uh-huh. She said some pretty far out stuff, made me realise a few things about… well, about Faith… and her. The stuff that happened back then."
"Do we have to do this again? I thought we agreed…"
"No, you agreed. I want to talk about this - I want to know what all of this, is about."
Being stalked then, edged back to the bed. The deep brown eyes looking down on her, flashing a heat she didn't recognise, a gaze she hadn't seen before. Following her up onto to the bed until there was nowhere left for her to hide.
"Was it because of Buffy, baby…? Did my little green eyed Willow have some jealousy flowing through her veins…"
"Get off of me…"
Seductive tones doing nothing; not looking to whisper secrets into a pillow whilst her mind was distracted elsewhere.
"Have I hit a nerve?"
And she had thrown her from her body. From the bed. A moment where the magics had flowed so unrestrained through her body - hearing the call of her anger, looking to be the bearer of her hate. A strength called forth that wasn't really hers. It had shattered something in her new formed relationship. Trust. Honesty. Maybe a rib or two.
And all because of Faith.
They hadn't spoken about her again, they hadn't spoken much of anything since then. No snuggles at bedtime, no loving glances exchanged across the dining table at breakfast. Just a coldness. A disappointment. A reason that she wanted to get out of this god forsaken city! Once everyone was away from Faith - once they had new issues to deal with, a Council to set up, baddies to hunt - then everyone would forget about Faith. The same as when she was in a coma.
A small slice of Willow… just, well… just the tiniest slice really, had already thought about using means not quite human to end the troubles with the unwanted slayer.
A small spell. A simple spell. And no one would ever know to tell…
Except that she would know - and Willow really did believe that she was so much more good than bad. She really was so much better than Faith.
She stilled the thoughts and stopped the pacing, as a small yet firm knock sounded light against her bedroom door - knowing exactly who it would be - feeling her favourite source of power waiting expectant for an answer. Trying and failing to plaster something like a smile to her lips, as she rose to offer entry.
"Hey Will."
"Buffy."
The acid brewing in her tummy as she tried to hide distaste.
"Can I come in? I think we need to talk."
"If this is gonna be another of your Faith recitals, I'd really rather not. I have packing to do - socks to fold…"
"You fold your socks?"
"Well, no. I put them into those little tucked up ball shapes… but it's like folding… there is some folding involved in the process. Anyway, aside from my packing habits - I really don't wanna talk anymore about Faith. That is who you came to talk about, right?"
"Always so perceptive."
"Always so predictable. Are you not sick to death of tragic love stories, Buffy? Just once wouldn't you like to fall for someone a little more stable… maybe, you know, less psychotic?"
Willow saw the pain that she had inflicted in Buffy's eyes, but she could not find the room to care so much. She could not help herself. Willow had her own pain - had her own reasons for wanting to keep lids on old feelings that had no right to be felt. Stepping back now - turning away and knowing that Buffy would follow her in… that she would seek to keep on pushing.
Something those slay girls all had in common.
"Was that good for you, Will? Did you score extra points for hurting me?"
"I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to help you! You all have these blinkers on, and it's like you can't see what Faith really is. You know her - you can't deny what she is Buffy…"
"Can you please stop? Seriously now; the kid gloves are coming off. Just sit the hell down and shut the hell up."
And she did. Her mouth dropping open without words, as she dropped her ass back down to the bed. Dumbfounded. Confounded. Witnessing again the agony behind the eyes of her best friend - the lifting of Buffy's hand as she wiped away at the things she couldn't hide.
"Buffy…"
"Stay there. I don't want comfort from you; I did want that - it was all that I wanted. You to hold me close while I told you what was hurting, maybe a little bit of understanding…"
"Understanding?! We're talking about Faith!"
"No, we're talking about me. Me, Will. You remember? Best friend, housemate. You chucked me out of my home, and now you've chucked me out of your heart?"
There weren't any words quick enough to leap to Willow's defence this time. She couldn't think sense - just recovery. Trying to stand again, softening her gaze to offer Buffy her arms…
"No! I told you, no. I don't want hugs, I want answers. I want to know why you've got such a mountain-sized problem with Faith - I mean, what is it? Is there something happening here that I don't know about?"
"What do you mean?"
"I know you, I know how caring you are, how soft your heart is - I can't, I just don't understand how you can hate her so much… what she did that made you so…"
"She hurt you!"
Buffy's look was still exhausted as her head shook along to Willow's words. Closing her eyes. Her hands raised to encompass her face, to slide all the way back and run frustrated through her hair.
"Exactly. She hurt me. And admittedly, someone hurts you and I'm gonna be all big with the wanting to protect - but I don't want this. I don't need you to protect me from Faith…"
"Well, what do you want Buffy? You want me to hang the banners and proclaim my joy at the thought of you and her? Is that what best friends do? Should I toast your taste in psycho killers?"
And Willow really couldn't help it. She wanted to pull back, she wanted to take heed of her friend's pain and stop the vitriol from pouring forth… but it was Faith…
The Faith who had always found a way to come between them. Who had always been worthy of those special smiles from Buffy, those special dances, when she'd had to make do only with rescheduled revision nights and totally chaste hugs on totally chaste doorsteps.
Letting the memory encompass her, letting that hurt explode hard and fast in her heart. "I think it's sick. I think the whole thing is sick."
"Really? Is that how you really feel?"
"Absolutely."
"In that case Will, you need to keep the hell away from me."
"Wait - you what?"
"You heard me. I really hoped that you wouldn't do this, that I'd come up here and you'd offer me a good explanation, maybe apologise for the crazy insults you've been tossing around…"
Feeling her own eyes dampening at Buffy's words.
"…but no. You're too damn stubborn to see that this could be good for me. That this could make me happy. Why is that? Don't you think I deserve the happies?"
Did she?
Absolutely. She wanted nothing more than for Buffy to know eternal happiness, a whole lifetime of happiness. But she couldn't find a place in herself that wasn't outright screaming at the burning fury invoked by thoughts of Faith.
"Willow?"
"You mean, with Faith?"
"No… yes, not - do we have to do this again?"
"I thought you wanted to do this? I can't not do this. I can't stand around while my best friend makes the biggest mistake of her life, and pretend that I don't see it coming… Faith is evil. Give her half a chance, and she'll kill you Buffy. Offer her your heart and she'll only break it."
Spoken with such authority and intelligence, perhaps as if she thought that she was cleverer than Buffy, as if her burgeoning IQ meant that she should be able to stand around and dictate all of the smaller issues in life. Allowing herself a little smile as Buffy flinched at her words… looking to raise her hands again… stroking smooth across her arms…
"Come on, you've gotta admit that it's a pretty far out notion. Not just cos it's a girl - and hello - when did you get so down with the girly loving? But it's Faith, Buffy. Not some nice girl that's going to treat you right and love you; not someone that's going to care when you've had a bad day and you need a little snuggle time…"
"Stop."
Trying to bend the unbendable to fit in her grasp. Her arms sliding up to shoulders. Trying to pull Buffy close again.
"No Will, I said stop!"
And finding herself pushed back. Thrown back. Buffy's eyes holding proper tears, Buffy's voice holding unbearable pain.
"I can't believe this… I can't…"
"Wait…"
"God Will, who are you?"
And forever freezing on that moment.
"Buffy…"
"No - I don't even know who you are anymore. I thought… I don't know, I guess I believed that you'd want to wish me well. That when you knew how much this meant to me - when you knew how much she meant to me - you'd be able to let it go. I don't understand you…"
The slayer shoulders that she had always admired, straining tight because of her. The steel slipping into eyes - the look of absolute determination etching tight across Buffy's face.
"…I can't deal with this. I won't deal with this. I asked you to be there for me, and you said no - now I'm telling you again Will; stay the hell away from me."
"But…"
"But nothing. I'm done with this."
The door rattling so hard on its hinges as Buffy turned and walked away. Leaving the room silent. Leaving Willow heaving sobs into the uselessness of a duvet - grabbing for comfort in the starchy harsh pillows of the hotel bed.
Everything was just going so wrong…
And nobody could see. Or maybe she couldn't see?
She didn't know - could not fool herself that she was anywhere near sure - she just knew her feelings. Felt the inconsolable anguish ripping at her heart whenever she let her mind wander to the places that Buffy had taken it. That time last week when she had first brought voice to the nightmare that lived inside…
"So that's it Will, I've been harbouring the secret deep down feelings for Faith - kinda crazy, huh?"
Knowing that Buffy had been so nervous, knowing that what she needed was a hold that offered acceptance, words that would soothe her pain - but no. Willow had twisted her face and let her own pain shine through. Dismissing Buffy's feelings, ridiculing her feelings. Yet again insisting that Faith was never anything to be loved.
And Xander was right. What a bitch she had become.
Maybe they were all right and she was the wrong one? She couldn't help but find consideration for that thought now. Sat so alone. Feeling so alone. But how could she hold in a feeing? How could she stop her blood boiling and her anger itching, every single time that anyone mentioned the name of Faith?
It felt impossible.
How could so much have changed in so little time, when yesterday still felt like four years ago, and tomorrow still felt like something she would never see? Faith didn't know, didn't understand the changes that she was going through; but she could not deny that changes were occurring. Catch her in a good moment, and she would even admit that she liked the change.
Everything was just so different here.
For a start; no bars. No cage. No prison. No made to remember every single damn moment that she held her eyes open, that she was bad. There was no one here telling her that. No one here who reflected on her like that.
She hadn't thought in the beginning that it was going to be like this. No - she had believed most sincerely that Angel would serve only as the first of her stakes back into the game. That he would be the fodder to bring the tears to Buffy's eyes……
She was going to take them all out, one by one… start with Angel, hit the friends - maybe the sister. Show Buffy what alone really felt like; see how well she survived when she had nothing. When she had no one. When they were equal.
But everything was different here.
People that didn't look at her as if they knew everything about her, people who smiled at her as if she really was someone worth smiling at.
"…Angel asked me to pick you up some things, and really, Cordy was so much better at all of this - but I tried to keep in mind the things he said, and… oh, wait, I haven't even introduced myself yet! Hi. I'm Fred."
"Right… uh, I'm Faith?"
"I know that, silly. Angel said you were coming to stay. Look, here's the clothes and if you need anything else, just give me a holler."
Smiles and clothes. And really, the clothes hadn't been half as bad as she had expected from the introduction. Some new jeans. A couple of vests, a few faded T shirts. And the genuine smile had been worth so much more. Had meant so much more. Faith had allowed herself to believe the bad press, she had nurtured the bad press until it spoke mostly the truth - but here she was seeing the good press. She was learning a different side to life, the side where sometimes you didn't have to take because someone just gave.
She was listening to the voices that she had learnt to keep silent.
It was no easy answer. For hours she could find herself slipping back into a silent reverie that reeked of rage and revenge and all things nasty - remembering with bitter distaste how she felt deep inside, the aching hole that she had tried to fill with all of the darkness. Feeling that flow in the veins as she relived all of the death - her own destruction.
Something that always sent the brainwaves soaring. That had caused more damage to Angel's ancient treasures and periodic paintings than he could ever care to mention. Just so much anger. Such coiling, boiling anger when she remembered the feelings that still felt like yesterday.
"You did it… you killed me."
Her eulogy. The minute when moments had stopped.
Ready to really let that be the last minute - to plan every move for the future based upon that one instant - that one twisted and fucked up second that she still couldn't bring herself to understand. Buffy wasn't ever meant to have killed her. It was wrong. Jesus - it was so fucking wrong…
"…Don't be so bloody daft - you think if the slayer wanted you dead, you'd still be left standing? Not a chance."
New voices taking hold. Voices that made her laugh - that tickled her in places she had forgotten how to feel. Deep belly chuckles and things that sounded like fun. But so much more than fun. Faith couldn't explain it to Angel, didn't really want to explain it to Angel - but there was something about Spike that was breathing the air back into her lungs. Honesty for a start. He didn't fuck around with her - he had something to say? He darn well said it. Didn't care if something was gonna set her off, didn't care to use words that would calm her down. You got what you saw.
And then there was the second benefit. Maybe the most beneficial - the thing that Angel would love to know, the thing that Faith could never explain.
She felt safe with Spike.
One hundred percent, absolutely and unequivocally safe with him. He was a ghost. No matter what, he couldn't touch her. And no matter what, she couldn't touch him. Safety. When nothing mattered because no one was going to get hurt.
And there was freedom in that.
Freedom for the voices that had been strangled beneath the violence, a time when they could plan sneak attacks and filter through any of the residues left over from the madness. A voice that she barely recognised. Offering placation where she had only pled for death, the promise of salvation when she had honestly believed that there was really nothing left.
Not sharing the words she heard, just gathering information. Letting Spike fill her ears with talk of the glory days - every little happening that had happened back in Sunnydale. And it was funny the way that he chose to tell it; every situation casting dodgy light on the Scoobies and a decidedly heroic light on himself. It had made her laugh more. Everything funny until he had told her the truth. A moment that had hurt so bad, yet meant so much, and at the same time sought only to confuse her more.
He had tried to hurt Buffy. Fuck that. He had gone into her home and he had tried to rape Buffy.
"…Nothing there I'm proud of luv; just telling it so you'll see."
"See? See what? Dude, that's fucked up right? That is so far past fucked up."
"Exactly. There's not much worse I could've done."
"What? You want a high five for that? Shit - you think I'm gonna be impressed by that?"
"You really are an imbecile. No, you idiot, I'm not looking for garlands - I'm getting you to see that you're not the only one that's done some things they're not so proud of. It's not the end of the world."
But it had blown hers apart.
So many entwined emotions bursting to break her mind. Anger of course - so much fucking anger. And he was lucky he was a ghost, because in that moment, if she had been armed, if he had been solid - he would have been dust. And that raised the case of another emotion. Not able to name it. The one that had her confused.
She had been ready to kill for Buffy. Not kill Buffy. But for her. The first and most primal instinct, to protect her. To curse and kill anyone that would dare seek to harm her.
Define confused?
It had broadened something else that she was learning to call trust. Listening to the full tale - not just from then, but from the now - how he wouldn't allow Buffy to know that he was back, how he felt like he had defiled his death as her champion by returning as he had.
"…Man, that's a rough sitch. You know she'd be cool though, right? It's Buffy - you know what she's like."
Offering comfort to a ghost. Not for self gain, not to reap a reward; just because it was a rough sitch. She felt that and she had shared the feeling. Not listening to her own words, almost choking hard on his:
"You know something, Faith? I'm beginning to think you've got a soft spot for our little blonde slayer…"
Classic.
Making her laugh again. Making her think again. Making her want to form more friendships. Re-find old ones. Imploring herself to finally face up to the shit things that she was capable of doing, and seek forgiveness from Xander. Faith had never gone there with him… had spent so much time trying to avoid remembering back then…
Just comics. Nothing close. Nothing real. Barely a friendship.
Pulling her hair back slowly into a ponytail as she glanced across at the arriving elevator. Back in the moment. One of the sink or swim variety that she'd had so much fun explaining to Angel.
"You think that you're swimming?"
She was damn well going to try.
Not quite sure what she was meant to do though as she found herself staring into Xander's one good eye. As her gaze travelled down and met his easy smile.
"Xander… hey."
"Hey? I'm gone for two days, and I only get, hey? Where's the love?"
"You want love? You don't wanna kick my ass?"
And she found herself encompassed in something she hadn't expected. Arms that felt supportive instead of suffocating, words which let her know that things were still okay - his end was still afloat.
"No Faith. This lean, mean fighting machine is all unready for action. Just go easy on me okay? I'm not one of the bad guys, you don't have to beat me up."
And her end had nearly sunk.
"I'm sorry. Serious Xander - not used to saying it, but I damn well mean it. It was messed up, I didn't mean to…"
"Hey, quiet. I get it, okay? You've still got stuff you're dealing with; I should've respected that. Not saying I'm thrilled about the violence, but I get where it came from. We'll forget it."
"No."
"No? You don't wanna forget it?"
"I can't afford to forget it. I'm on the edge here, Xander - maybe it's time I figured out which way I'm gonna go."
And where was the strength that she was always telling herself she had? Buckling now. Not so easy to find the words that she had rehearsed so frantic with Spike. Moving away from support, steeling her breath to form words.
"Faith…?"
"No, I'm cool. This is just… different."
Everything here was different.
"Do you wanna look at the comics?"
And didn't he get that? Couldn't he open that eye and look at her, and see that she was trying?
"No - I don't want to look at comics. Just can it for a minute, yeah? I've got shit to say, and it's never getting said if you keep on distracting me."
And there. He saw.
"Sorry, what did you want to say?"
"Where was I up to?"
"Uh… you mentioned the edge…"
"Right, the edge. I'm at it Xander. It's like I'm so fucking close to this howling abyss and all I've been able to hear, is all of the shit inside. Bad shit, you know?"
"Bad shit?"
"Real bad shit. And the thing is; I don't want the shit anymore. I can't take the shit anymore… I want what you said. Back in the basement - after Red's welcome home…"
She stepped back as he sought to bring her close again, not accepting support. "You said, give us a chance, right?"
"Yes Faith, that's what I said."
"Well, I want to. Shit, I want you to give me a chance. I don't even know if I can do this, haven't got a fucking clue how I'm meant to do it, but I'm ready to learn."
The silence that greeted her words did not have Faith bathing in comfort. As if everything she had just exposed was echoing back from the panelling on the walls. Filling her ears - taunting her senses. Nervous words springing forth.
"Fuck, that was stupid, right? I try and strangle you, and then tell you I'm changing…? Maybe I'm still crazy; it feels like I might still be crazy…"
"No, stop Faith… I'm just… wow. What's Angel been feeding you?"
"Meatloaf. Pizza. Canteen food…"
"And a whole lot of sense. Wait - is this a joke? Are you gonna eviscerate me as soon as my head's turned?"
"Didn't plan on it."
"Then wow, again. I don't actually have anything past the wow."
"Wow is good. I like wow."
And she did. Something soft in his smile as he looked at her now; patting the bed space beside him and waving the bag with the comics. Looking to tempt her in that same teasing way as the first time.
"Ready to get the goodies, Faith?"
"Don't tempt me lover boy. You know it's been four years, could be all sorts of painful."
Teasing him back with the arch in her eyebrow and the curve of her lips. Rolling her hips as she stalked him, laughing out loud as she collapsed into the space beside him.
And it was different. She felt different.
Like she was taking her first step towards living.
Yet again the basement had become the place for Buffy to seek seclusion, a place where it felt okay to speak out loud, a place where it felt like maybe, just a little bit, a connection with Faith still existed. She didn't have much else to go on. Not a member of the Terrific Two, who it seemed could visit at will as long as they carried some comic-y goodness for her eyes to feast upon. Buffy didn't have comic-y goodness; she had only the shared past - the one which included acts of betrayal and knives through the gut.
Their relationship needed a lot of work.
But a lot of work couldn't be done while Faith was still insisting on an absolute communication blackout. Nothing. Not the tiniest morsel of a crumb to encourage Buffy that there was anything left anymore, other than Faith's predicted waste of time. And it felt like wasted time.
Giles had offered her two weeks to find some sort of reprieve; to at least find a foothold that could one day turn into a bridge, that could one day cross over all of the troubled waters of the past. So far Buffy had zilch. Four days down and all she had managed to do was to lose the application form for her replacement passport. Not genius - she knew that - but as a back up plan it held some merit.
"You've lost the application form? Again? You do realise Buffy, that you won't actually be able to board the plane without your passport?"
You don't say, Giles?
And she hadn't said. She had simply shaken her head at her amazing show of ditziness and agreed to go with Giles tomorrow, when he would personally escort her and her rather stubborn ass as she filled out every single one of the necessary forms.
"You're taking the watcher duties just a little too watchfully, don't ya think?"
But he hadn't laughed. He had shaken his head oh SO wearily, made a whole big puffing show of reiterating responsibility and setting good examples for all of the young ones……
It was another reason that Buffy kept hiding out in the basement. There was way too much responsibility upstairs. Sure, parenting was a possibility about a thousand years in the future, but now? And so many children?
"…Buffy, tell Rona that the Cocoa Puffs are mine! She knows they're my favourites, but she-"
"Well tell Kennedy to keep her witch loving lips away from my Gatorade!"
"Guys - a little perspective? " Trying to calm them, trying to act all responsible. "We save the world nightly, and you're arguing about soda?"
Cringing as the scream had come from somewhere upstairs, proclaiming that `someone' had used Dawn's towel, and she was going to kick ass if Buffy didn't sort it out. Now.
Yes. The basement was a quiet little piece of tranquillity.
The only person that ever sought to disturb her down here was Xander. Knowing since the first time where she would be if she wasn't in the middle of the domestics - seeking her out to banish whatever doom and gloom mood was looking to overtake her. Her only other connection to Faith.
He was keeping her informed on all of the progress; his joy the day that Angel had called to invite him back into the fold, his absolute astonishment when he had returned that night to tell Buffy everything that had happened - "She's changed Buffy. I don't know what it is - maybe Angel really is all sage with the wisdom - but it's like she's being Faith again."
"For real?"
"Completely for real." His conviction convincing her. "She even called me Lover Boy."
His peacock posing, having her laughing out loud. And for a second it had given her hope. Brave enough to put another call through to Angel - asking if maybe, possibly, Faith was ready to talk. To her.
"Give her time, Buffy."
And that was a fantastic answer if she had all of the time in the world. She didn't though; she had days. And the hope had started to fade again. It was just so unfair. She was sure that if she was given the chance - if someone would just let her stand again in front of Faith - that she could make it make a difference. She would find the right words. She would offer the right gestures. She would find a space to place that first foothold.
Finding only a turn of her head as the door opened up above her. Smiling already at who she knew it would be. "Xander?"
"Hey Buff - you decided on a colour scheme yet?"
"Huh?"
"Well you must be doing something while your staring at the walls. I think sky blue; it's bright and airy."
"I like it how it is. It's…"
"Dank and depressive?"
"Exactly. It seems fitting."
She managed to keep the smile in place as he took the stairs to join her; flopping himself to the floor, slinging an arm across her shoulders.
"I thought Giles taught you about keeping a positive mental attitude: a girl's gotta smile while she slays!"
And Giles had never taught her that one.
"I missed that lesson, and anyway, I'm not slaying. I'm phily… philosopho… I'm thinking."
"Deep thought? Nobody's friend. So what's taking the sunshine out of the Summers - are you and Will still fighting?"
"She told you about that?"
His hand squeezed her shoulder with the offer of support, as she listened to him let out one of those long exhausted exhales.
"Yeah. I got the condensed `why does the whole world hate me?' version. It sounds like you went a little rough on her."
"I didn't mean to be rough, I was going to be gentle. I just don't understand it Xander…" She pulled herself out of his arms to offer free reign to her hands. Able to gesticulate the roughness that Willow herself had been seeking to dish out. "…She keeps on attacking me, as if the things that I'm feeling for Faith are some kind of personal insult against her. She's my best friend - nothing that I feel for Faith could ever replace that."
"Did you explain that to her?"
"What? After she told me that I needed to improve my taste in murdering psychos? No. I told her to stay the hell away from me. I meant it too - I can't deal with her issues right now. I've spent half of the morning talking to myself in the basement. I think I have enough issues of my own."
"Amen to that."
"Hey!"
His infectious smile had her breaking into one of her own though; sticking out her tongue and not caring that it was childish. "Seriously though Xander, what's Will's problem - why can't she let it go like the rest of us?"
"You want to know what I think?"
"Well I'm not getting anywhere with what I think. I was even starting to wonder if she's got a secret crush on Faith… she's always wanted her, and that's why she hates her. Bonkers, right?"
"Right theory, wrong girl. It's like being trapped in the middle of a huge lesbian dra…… ow! What was that for?"
"This is so not a lesbian drama; I've never even kissed a girl!"
She didn't make the connection at first - so surprised to be labelled as a lesbian, that she didn't hear the rest of his words. Running through the quick recall as he rubbed at his arm. As he mumbled something about being a punch bag for slayers…
"What did you mean - right theory, wrong girl? What's the right theory?"
Stopping his mumbling. Pinning him down with a glare when he looked like he wanted to wriggle free. "Come on Xander, spill. What's the what?"
"Right - the what. Well, think about it, Buff… who could Willow have a crush on that could make her hate Faith like she does? Who is it that's got feelings for Faith?"
"No."
Her head shaking away that first glimmer of enlightenment. Trying to stop the thought from lodging. "No way. Not a chance. God Xander, it's Willow, as in best friend forever Willow. She would never think of me like that."
"Sure, cos I've never had the naughty thoughts about you."
"But… but you're a guy!"
"And Willow is a lady loving lady. Not a completely zany notion that she might've once or twice wanted to-"
"Stop!"
Her hand raising high to prevent the finishing of the sentence. It was bad enough that the thought had most definitely lodged; there was no way that she was following the thought through to the kinda places that Xander was looking to go…
"Please, okay? Can we not go there?"
"Sure. But you have to admit it makes sense?"
"No, it really doesn't. It makes less sense than one of Giles' ancient prophesies. Those Babylonian ones that…"
And she babbled her way through it. Exhausting her mouth with a tumble of words that looked to silence the puzzle being pieced together inside. Not a pretty picture, but a picture all the same. All of the edges linking together. Every single one of them making sense.
"You can ignore it all you want Buffy, but it's the only reason that I can come up with. It explains all that old jealousy, it explains the new rage fuelled persona of our resident uber-bitch… makes sense of the things she said to Faith."
"Said to Faith? Did I miss something?"
"You don't know? I thought she would've been gloating about it."
"What things, Xander?"
And when? And how?
A little whisper of agitation having her folding her arms tight across her chest. Wanting to tap her foot. Waiting on Xander's words.
"It was all of the basics: everybody hates you, you're a skanky ho, keep the hell away from us. But she said some other stuff too, stuff about you and Faith. That you would never want her."
He shrugged his shoulders as Buffy's eyes opened up on the biggest `what the fuck?' moment of her whole entire life. Because really, what the fuck?
"She said what?"
"She said that. I didn't get it then, but when things started to make sense… then everything made sense. It's like I said, huge lesbian drama."
And she couldn't chastise him that time, when what he was saying only lightened the load of what she was starting to feel. A mess of confusion that even she had not been pessimistic enough to guess at. A nightmare scenario.
So - she liked Faith, and Willow liked her… and Willow was warning Faith away from her, because…
"Where does Faith fit in?"
Wanting the one who it seemed had all the answers, to answer her this one. To reignite the hope that she was nine days away from surrendering.
"In what?"
"The big picture, the drama. You said that Willow likes me, and we know that I like Faith; but why was Will warning Faith away? Who does Faith like?"
"Batman."
"Batman? She's crushing on a guy in tights?"
"It's more like rubber, and no; she just has a thing for superheroes. "
"Right. Thanks, that's real helpful, Xander. You know? I just wish I knew if she felt anything for me anymore, aside from the crazy vengeful rage. It's hard to keep that positive mental attitude going, when nothing seems very positive."
She ushered out a sigh as he looked to stand from his seat. Walking his way to nudge her on the shoulder, to offer another of his infectious grins to lift the bad.
"Hey, there are positives. Faith is getting better everyday. Give it time, Buff. I'm sure she's gonna get to a place where she needs to see you too."
"And if I'm gone by then?"
"Then I'll call and tell you to get your ass back here. You need to stop thinking about it - Angel's working with her, she's doing really good - just relax for a while. Xander Harris orders it!"
And she wanted to salute. Smiling instead, catching his hand and thinking about the future. "You wanna come grab pizza with me and Dawn? I promised a lunchtime excursion."
"No can do. I told Faith I'd-"
"Right. No problem."
Dropping his hand with a little bitter sting of disappointment. Not only because she wanted to hang out with Xander, but also because he got to go and hang out with Faith. And it wasn't fair. And she wanted to scream; and it seemed that she was telegraphing every single emotion with each look that leapt across her face.
"Cheer up Buffster, we can hang out later - there's enough Xander love to go round."
"No, it's okay. I have to patrol later, set a good example…"
"I can patrol. I can set good examples too."
"You want to?"
"Of course I want to. Go take Dawn for pizza, I'll go see Faith. And then tonight, we slay!"
And as she watched him walk the stairs with that little bounce in his step, she felt nothing but the deepest admiration for him; maybe tainted with the slightest hints of resignation. Buffy had not lied when she said that she would always need Xander in her life: he was her heart. He made her happy. And the thought that not only was she leaving Faith, but that she was also leaving him…
She wanted to lose the passport form again.
Try as she might, Faith could not manage to keep any level of concentration on the conversation that was carrying on around her. Pushing cold fries round the plate, rather than tuning in on some oh so boring details about Giles setting up a new council. Because really - who gave a fuck? She was almost ready to start talking about all of the nasty things that went bump when the lights went out, if only it would add some sort of excitement to the mix.
Angel and Xander. And blah, blah, blah…
"…does Giles propose to allocate a Watcher for every slayer? Does he even know how many Watchers survived?"
"We don't even know how many slayers there are now. Willow is guesstimating at somewhere in the upper hundreds…"
And please, could someone slice her ears off?
When Angel had first suggested that they get together for a few intense three-way conversations - his moniker for therapy sessions - she had thought, why not?
Three different perspectives for the time when she went bad. Angel's always peppered with his really old guy wisdom; her own kinda sketchy, depending how much she felt like talking. And then Xander's. His had been the most revealing - not just describing the Scooby anger as she had slipped away from them, but also the sadness. His own. Daring to mention Buffy…
"…She always felt like you were her responsibility. She never gave up on you."
"Right. Say it with stab wounds."
"That's not fair. If you think that Buffy wanted to do that, if you think she would've done it if there was any other way, then you've still got a lot of learning to do. I saw her that night Faith, and she wasn't a bundle of joy-"
"Alright. I get it."
Always silencing the words before they touched on the things that still raged confused. Always more information to gather - trying to form pictures, to make everything fit. Hearing in real time about the things that she had missed… the glorious rundown of every single apocalypse.
And Buffy had been busy. And dead. Also resurrected:
"Serious? She really was in heaven?"
"Apparently so. I still never know if I'm supposed to feel bad for taking her out of there…"
Listening to the way that Xander had to tell it. Sliding it together with the things that she knew from Spike. From Angel. The things that she had seen in a dream. Just working it through - moment by moment…
Not letting herself feel a thing. Freezing whilst they spoke her name, tuning out on anything except the bare facts. A passive face turned their way - nothing happening. Everything is fine.
Except until the moments when it all became too much and she was forced to feel with so much urgency, that Angel had learnt to always keep the gym free after any type of conversation. Pounding out the same beat that her fists had always flurried too. Driving home the pain - trying to beat away the feelings that still held her in a vice. Still had her feeling as if this wasn't her life.
Define confusion?
Letting her ears open up again now, rather than confronting the things that she still felt might lead her into madness. Smiling at Xander as if she wasn't wrestling with that someplace dark inside. Just wriggling in her chair, restlessly tapping her fingers.
"It's nothing to smile about, Faith. You try and supervise fourteen girls all trying to use the bathroom at the same time. It makes me wish that the nine days would fly by."
"Nine days?"
"Till England. Till hot showers."
Her fingers stilling in an instant. Information she had missed.
"You're leaving in nine days?"
"No, they're leaving in nine days. I've decided to stick around - I'm not going anywhere."
"You're not?"
"Nope. Like I could ever bear to surrender my presidency of the comic club. Not a chance."
She shot a look across at Angel, caught his barely there nod that confirmed Xander's words. Had to remember how to breathe as she pushed down the urge to strike out. The heat that was building in her veins threatening to combust into rage…
This was so fucking stupid. So fucked up. Xander could hide behind the comic club bullshit all he wanted, but Faith knew what this was. Felt the sincerity of feeling that sat in his gaze.
He was staying for her. And that was messed up.
She didn't even know if she'd wake up tomorrow and still feel sane; didn't know if this time next week she'd be creeping her way up the list of America's most wanted. She didn't want Xander to throw away his life in some kind of sacrifice for hers…
She couldn't carry the weight of what felt like expectation.
"You shouldn't bother. I'm getting bored with the comic club anyway, it's nothing but some fucked up geek thing."
Still capable of causing shock. Of hurting feelings. Not understanding why he didn't look aggrieved, why his mouth was softening even further into a smile.
"Yeah. Like we didn't already decide that you're a geek." Settling himself further back into the deep comfort of his chair. "You're not getting rid of me, Faith; it's pretty much a waste of time trying."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Just start thinking of all the fun things we can do, when Angel finally lets you out of the tower of doom. You know there's an all-you-can-eat ribs place just around the corner?"
And settling for smiling herself. Keeping a lid. The face still passive. Words which could flow and not make her sound like she still felt just a little bit too close to crazy.
"Cool, we'll definitely check it out. Bet I can eat more than their all."
Steadying her breaths as they wound down the fun times. Knowing that the gym was going to be the only therapist that made any sense as soon as all of the goodbyes were said. Not knowing where else to focus her feelings, not remembering what it was that fed the blood in her veins. Why the urges raced so strong.
Not long now.
Standing as the others stood. Tuning in to hear the last of the words.
"Yeah, well it's getting pretty late and I told Buffy I'd patrol with her. How long have I got till sunset?"
Looking up at Angel. Angel looking to her.
"What? I never had a watch."
Just knowing that she needed something to punch. And she needed it now.
Angel watched in silence from the doorway to the gym; knowing that on some level Faith no doubt sensed him anyway, but not wanting to interfere in the therapy that she dished out to herself as she beat defenceless punching bags into a decimated pulp. No longer any doubt for him about her physical recuperation - she was fighting fit. She was fighting ferocious.
Which only left her mental recuperation. The thing that he couldn't be so certain about. He saw that she was trying; he was well aware of the hoops that she had been making herself jump through as she came to terms with the things that she had done. But he wasn't so sure that she was succeeding. There was an instability there, something which she hadn't yet found the strength to focus on. And he knew what it was. He knew the issue that made her look to always change direction.
Buffy.
And every single act that came of Buffy.
He had watched her as she emptied her eyes to hear the tales from the past; the light always dimming when the stories were of slaying, or of demons, or the council… when they might come anywhere close to touching her inside. To reminding her of who she was inside. Only close to admitting it when he watched her in her silent battles with inanimate objects - her grunts resurfacing, the cocky roll of her hips as she sliced her way through routines which had returned to her almost as soon as she had stood on the mats in the centre of his gym.
So slow that first time. As if she didn't trust to lift her hands - as if she didn't trust what she would find there. Listless thumps making dull thuds against leather. Her face not coming alive for what had seemed like an age…
Until the sun had set.
That had been when it first made sense to him - the first time he realised that it wasn't only Buffy that Faith was forcing down, but also the urges that came with her. The need to slay. To be the chosen one. To fight and protect and to destroy all things evil.
And he imagined just how terrifying it must feel to confront the calling that she had betrayed. Perhaps as hard as confronting the one that she had betrayed. Never mentioning it. Just opening up the gym to her as the moon began to rise and letting nature work it out. Every night seeing that one more improvement, every minute hoping that this would be the one: the moment when she opened her eyes and saw who she was.
Wishing for it now.
Angel had noticed Faith's instant discomfort at the words from Xander, how her ears had pricked - how her face had frozen:
"…I told Buffy I'd patrol with her - how long have I got till sunset?"
Not being able to think of a way that he could have scripted it better. Knowing that her mind wouldn't have been able to do anything but soak the words up. Sensing her agitation, her grab at words about watches. And then following her down as she headed straight for the gym… not bothering to change, just wanting to pound. Her screams still reverberating against the high walls now. The punching bag still suffering as she went at it with all that she had. The most that he had seen.
Crying out as her leg span graceful through a final spinning kick, the moonlight filtering across the room as her arm arched back - a pause, a second - and slamming it home. The phantom stake that he had been waiting to see, busting to dust every single demon that dared to cross her mind.
And he clapped. Not even knowing why, just wanting to offer some kind of appreciation for the moment that he had been allowed to witness. Her eyes meeting him confused - raging - the power that he saw in her gaze, seeming to buckle each of her words with a deep down pain.
"Angel?"
Barely a hoarse grab at making sense. Like everything might break as she began to speak the truth.
"I… I need to slay."
And she did. Not in this moment, not to let off steam. It was deeper than that - it was the place that produced the steam. The very thing at her core.
Faith was the slayer. And now she needed to slay.
He offered something that he hoped looked reassuring; stepping down into the room, crossing the distance to arrive in the centre. Lifting off his sweatshirt and stretching out his shoulders.
It was time.
"Come on, Faith. We'll spar."
Giving her a place to release the feeling.
Buffy let her feet trudge wearily to the office; not quite dragging, but as close to dragging that she could get whilst still showing some level of enthusiasm for the task. Giles was just being so darn… enthusiastic! It was exhausting. Trying to keep her head nodding along as he imparted so many facts which to him seemed important, but which to Buffy, seemed only trivial.
Really. Who cared if the famous coven in Cornwall had invited them to stay in some outdated monastery for Halloween? Or if that old friend Roger Boswell… or Bosworth… whoever, had relayed the truly exciting news that three more surviving watchers had been found hiding out in deepest darkest Africa?
Buffy was all on board with the bringing order back into the mix and providing support for the slayers; but at what cost? Giles had even made her take notes yesterday. Notes! She was the clerical slayer, the secretarial slayer - she could staple a vampire from a hundred yards…
She peeked her head around the door to the office, and found that Giles was indeed on the telephone to one of his many important contacts on the other side of the pond. His officious tone making her stifle a giggle as she looked to park her ass on one of the chairs. Slipping her feet up onto the desk just to gain a cursory look - a sort of payback for the making of note taking.
"Yes, Angus, I very much look forward to Saturday too. Yes… really. That's rather fascinating… yes…"
And there was no payback bad enough to compensate for the loss of brain cells she was having to cope with in the quest to re-establish what was lost. Heaving out a sigh of relief as Giles finally cut the call with the man named Angus.
"How's Angus?"
"He's actually rather tedious Buffy, but we have to make best use of all of the resources that are left to us."
"And Angus doesn't mind you `using' him?"
"Oh do grow up. Not everybody here is looking to embrace their inner rainbows. Angus has simply volunteered to provide a pick up at the airport on Saturday, that is the only capacity in which I'll be using him."
Buffy felt her face colour appropriately at the rainbow comment. Having a sexuality on display that she hadn't actually even considered completely herself, definitely fell into the realms of mortal embarrassment. Grabbing instead at the other emotion. The one where she remembered that Saturday was only five days away and she still hadn't found the first foothold. Or footstep. Or anything else other than standing still. Immediately losing the colour from her face. Immediately back to business.
"So what's up, Giles? Did ya want me to do some more filing? Maybe reorganise your paperclip collection?"
"Very funny. No, I have something I wish to discuss with you."
"Ooh discussions. My favourite. So…?"
"You really are quite irritating at times. If you'd rather not know what Angel called me about this morning, then fine; go on - run along…"
"You what?" The mind spinning instantly. The possibilities all jostling to find first place. "Angel called? Is Faith - is she okay?"
"So now you're interested?"
Now she was hanging onto the edges of the chair. Not interested; absolutely obsessed with the next words that would fall from his mouth. "Giles…"
A warning: A little lacy taste of undertone just to let him know that this was not something they were allowed to joke about. "…is she okay?"
"Yes, she appears to be fine. According to Angel, she's exceeding every hope they had for her. Hence the phone call."
"Hence the phone call? You mean… does she, is she ready to see me?"
And god. That more like made the room spin. Made every one of the possibilities re-jostle for more of the first places as she considered all of what that could mean.
"No."
No?
"She doesn't?"
"I don't know, Buffy. Angel didn't call to discuss Faith's social arrangements, it seems that he is of the opinion that she is ready to slay again."
Take the room spin - turn it upside down - shake vigorously - and then slam it to the ground. Hard.
That was the reaction that the real reason behind the phone call was looking to produce. Her eyes set on bulging, her hands already busy throwing shapes through the air.
"Is he crazy?!"
"Buffy…"
"No! What if something happens to her? What if she's not ready? God - she was in a coma for four years, Giles! Is he trying to kill her?"
"Will you please calm down?"
Not likely. Buffy could feel the anger pulsating somewhere deep within, could feel the fury as it looked to make prickles across every inch of skin. "It's too much of a risk. He's got no right-"
"I voiced these very concerns, Buffy. In fact, I voiced a lot more concerns than I expect even you could come up with. Angel is adamant though, that he knows what he is talking about - he offered a rather colourful argument about the path to redemption. I don't know, perhaps with the results he's been having with Faith, we ought to trust more in his judgement?"
Yes. Even though Faith could be vampire fodder sometime soon, she should trust that Angel knew what he was talking about. Not that it wouldn't matter at all about redemption if Faith ended up dead. She should smile. She should nod…
"There should be a slayer there. Angel can't handle Faith if things go wrong… I want to be there."
Not able to do either. Her face tight - her stomach tight.
"That's a bad idea. Putting Faith into a slaying situation, and then facing her with the one thing that seems to spark her rage, isn't quite what I think Angel has in mind."
"So why are you telling me? If I'm still not allowed to be included, why are you telling me?"
She didn't mean to be losing it - didn't mean to be shrieking her words at Giles in the manner of a newborn hell-spawn - but she really couldn't help it. Wanting to rip the glasses from his hand and smash them down upon the desk. Wanting answers.
"Did you just want to torment me some more? Is that it? You think I'm not hurting enough right now, I need a little extra agony just to finish me off? I'm sick of this, Giles. I want to see Faith. I need to see her."
Finding imploring to cover the rage - uncovering her pain to smother the anger. Didn't he get it? Didn't he see what this was doing to her?
"I'm sorry, Buffy."
And maybe he did.
Leaving his glasses resting on top of the desk as he lifted himself up to find her. Kneeling at the side of the chair - her hand suddenly engulfed by his. "I hate to see you hurting, I'm sorry that this situation is so painful for you. I only wanted to speak of it, so that you would know, so you didn't have to hear about it second hand."
"That's the problem though, isn't it Giles? All I get is second hand, all I'm allowed is hearsay and health reports: yes Buffy, Faith looks great! Sure Buffy, she's eating real well… we're leaving here in five more days; what the hell am I supposed to do?"
She knew that he had no answer. Accepting the comfort of his sigh - the same old message in his words:
"Just give her time. I know that it's hard Buffy, but there really is no other way. Just give her time."
"Right."
Shrugging away his hand. Settling the shoulders again, acting responsibly again. "So when is she slaying?"
"Buffy…"
"What? I just want to know where and when so that I don't accidentally run into her. That'd sure mess up everyone's plans, wouldn't it?"
"That's highly unlikely to happen. You know I can't tell you. It really is for the best."
Right again.
Wrong again.
"Is that everything?"
"That's everything. Are you going to be okay?"
"Peachy, Giles. I'm gonna be just peachy."
As soon as she had found Xander.
The same question about Faith's ability to slay, was currently being argued in a different office, somewhere in the same town. The current CEO of Wolfram and Hart having a hard time convincing a former watcher from the Watcher's Council that releasing a vaguely unstable slayer back into the general population was anything like a sane thing to do.
"Did you say, vaguely unstable? I'd suggest that's a rather flattering assessment, wouldn't you?"
"No Wes, but then I've actually been putting in the hours working with Faith. What's your area of expertise again? Translating manuscripts - not very helpful here."
"Don't you take that tone with me. I was Faith's watcher; I'm extremely qualified to offer judgement on all areas of her slaying-"
"Would you two pansies stop with the handbags already? She did alright in the test didn't she? Way I heard it, she barely broke a sweat."
It was one of the only times that Angel would be thankful of a Spike interruption. Closing his own mouth before he really let rip, before he took the time to re-examine exactly how well Wesley had done as Faith's watcher…
And Spike made a very valid point. Two nights after he had first sparred with Faith, Angel had allowed her to slay within a controlled environment. The gym closed off to everyone else, two vampires brought into the room. And Faith; finally armed and dangerous. It had been risky, he knew that, but it had also been necessary. Once that spark had come alight again, there was no way that he could look to douse it - every fibre of Faith's being screaming that she slay - that she reconnect with what she had lost. What she had given up.
And she had barely broken a sweat. Her eyes surprised at first, not sure why he had armed her, not sure why there were two guys staring at her from the centre of the room…
"What's this, Angel? You planning on me working off a little steam - can I do the one on the right first?"
Her words stunning him silent. The cocksure bravado she let enter her step. "You gonna watch?"
Fluttering the eyelashes.
And then the guys had gone to game face. Tempted by the sweet seduction that was everything Faith; wanting so bad to get themselves a taste. Their growls echoing loud, their steps advancing solid.
"Oh."
Her realisation.
Angel had watched her understand, waited with a wasted breath to see what she would do. Pinning her eyes on the stake - looking up to catch sight of the vampires. Not even breaking a sweat. As if every move was so familiar, so easy, that to do it took no thought. Dust covering the ground before he'd had time to tell her to be careful… her sly smile turning before he'd found applause.
"Now I've really got some steam to work off."
The stake tossed back. The punching bag attacked.
She had done well in the test.
"At the end of the day Wes, we won't know what slaying is going to do to Faith, until we let her slay. She's not gonna earn redemption by telling us she's better - by saying that she's sorry. Faith needs to get out there, she needs to start walking the path."
"Utter codswallop! Releasing an unstable slayer back into the general population is tantamount to condoning the possibility of a massacre. It's reckless Angel. You don't even know for sure that Faith wants redemption!"
He caught the movement, the shadow that hovered by the door; the ears that caught the words. The girl that emerged to stride with confidence into the room.
"She does."
And she couldn't fool him. Maybe Wesley - but not him. He knew the nervousness that existed inside when she thought about going out again. Slaying for real. Taking that first big step up to the plate, learning how to hit again when the last time she'd only struck out. Faith could stand there now and look as though she owned the room; but Angel knew. He heard the pleading behind the words. He understood everything that it meant to her.
"Look Wes, I know that you're worried, I've given you every reason to think I'm gonna screw this up - but I'm not, okay? I'm gonna get it right this time. I want to get it right."
The nervous way that she bit into her bottom lip as she waited on a response; for Wesley to look at her in some way other than with the same distrustful glare. Nothing coming.
Angel beginning to think that he would have to break the silence himself, that no one else had anything to say…
"Bloody hell!"
He should have known.
"Why don't we just let the slayer do her job? If it looks like she's gonna flip her lid, you can have Angel tie her to a tree and give the geriatric vamps a feast. Can we talk about something else now - like when you buggering idiots are gonna work out how to make me whole?"
Another timely intervention. Spike commanding Wesley's attention with all of his deep down despair at remaining incorporeal. Apparently it was hard being a ghost. Or not.
Angel just kept his eyes on Faith. Watching every reaction - every muscle move across her face, every nervous twitch that looked to go unnoticed. He watched it all. Keeping her calm. Holding onto her cover. Her final words:
"I'm going up for a shower… don't talk about me too much while I'm gone."
Spike's laughter. Wesley's stern tut.
And no matter what, Angel did believe that letting her slay again was the only thing to do. The first step - the next step. He would take her out late; a weekday so that it wasn't so busy. A barely functional cemetery out by a barely functioning old folk's home. An almost safe environment.
He believed that it was right. He still knew that it was a risk.
Buffy's legs swung steadily back and forth against the counter in the lobby. Making an ever annoying thump. Encouraging her sister to finally lose patience with her.
"Buffy! We're trying to play here! Can't you go be annoying somewhere else?"
Nope. Thumping just a tiny bit louder, edging out just a little more of her irritation. All day long she had been waiting on Xander - and all day he hadn't shown up. Probably off with Faith, probably holding her hand and talking about all the really groovy patrols that they were gonna go on…
"Buffy! Willow, can't you get her to stop? Like, magic her legs off or something?"
"It's okay, Dawn."
"No it's not! How am I supposed to concentrate, when she won't stop with the banging? I've lost every game because of her!"
"It's only Snap, Sweetie. I'll let you win the next one, okay?"
And wow. Good to see that everyone else had worries too.
She did stop the banging though. Buffy didn't want Willow defending her, not under any circumstances. It was all still a little bit completely unfriendly… not feeling able to accept any of the apologetic looks from Willow, when she was still struggling to comprehend the feelings that Xander said she had for her…
More hearsay and second hand.
Not like she could just confront her either though…
`Hey Will, just wondered if you've ever wanted to do the low down bump and grind with me' - or there was always - `I heard you might have a crush on me Will… wanna discuss?'
It was all just a nightmare scenario. Telling herself that she could only possibly be expected to concentrate on one nightmare at a time; and at this precise moment, that nightmare was Faith. Or Xander. And where the hell was Xander?!
Ready to actually out-loud scream that question to the heavens, by the time he finally walked through the doors. So unconcerned with anything that looked like worries, his step bouncing him down the stairs with his ever present smile in place.
"Hey, my three favourite ladies! How's things? Not slaying tonight, Buff?"
"No, Kennedy's got it. Where have you been?"
Her eyes actually narrowing on him as if she could peer at the answers. Hopping down off the counter, moving to invade his space.
"Out and about. I stopped by and saw you know who." His gaze routing round her. "What ya playing there, Dawn? Looks pretty intense."
"It's Snap, and it is intense. I'm four to nothing down. I think Willow might be cheating though… I haven't ruled out the unfair use of magic…"
"Hey! I am not cheating! I don't need to cheat against you - you have about as much hand-eye co-ordination as a visually impaired slug…"
"Slugs don't have hands."
"Exactly!"
"Do they have eyes…?"
Buffy could see herself losing him; the way that his feet looked to walk around her to find them… wanting to know about slugs, wanting to find something that sounded like fun…
And she couldn't allow that. She needed him.
"Xander, can we talk?"
"Sure Buff, what's up?"
Seeing the way that they all turned to look at her; forgetting about the card game. Waiting to see why her voice had suddenly dropped to ominous.
"In private?"
And it wasn't for them to know.
As they walked up the stairs to her room, Buffy tried to dispel that distinctly foreboding tone from her voice. She didn't mean to sound quite so end of the worldy - but it did seem like the end of the world. Everything was changing and she had no control anymore over anything that happened. Not that she'd ever had control - but it had seemed like it at the time. Back home when she always known what was around each corner. When she always knew exactly where Faith would be.
Buffy certainly didn't miss the beep, beep, beep of the machine that had sat at Faith's bedside for the entire four years in the hospital; but so much so she missed the reassuring sound of her heartbeat. She missed her own heartbeat.
And it was hard to keep her tone bright and airy.
Shuffling Xander through the door, offering him a seat on the bed.
"Did you know that Angel's taking Faith out slaying?"
No time for small talk.
"Slow down there, Buff - where's the crisis?"
"Did you know?"
"Are you gonna beat it out of me if I say no?"
She saw that he was trying to smile, trying to lift the scowl that was currently crossing her face. And it wasn't that easy. Settling for sighing, for rolling her shoulders and praying that someone, please, had a cure for her tension.
"No, I'm not gonna beat it out of you. I'm guessing you know though, right?"
"Yeah. I'm a little surprised that you know; I didn't think that Angel wanted-"
"Why?"
"Huh?"
"Why am I not supposed to know? God Xander, what does everyone think I'm gonna do to her?"
He tried to offer her comfort, and she threw his arm from her shoulders. Standing to give herself distance, to be able to iterate her point in ways that showed how it was breaking her heart. "I only want to help her."
The point that no one seemed to be getting.
"You are helping her - no Buffy, you are."
His frame also looking to stand. Crossing the room and taking his place at her side. "I know it seems like you're not being included, like everyone's trying to keep you away, but it's not like that. Well, it is - but not for the reasons you think."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that no one's worried about what you'd do to Faith, we're a little more worried about what Faith does when she sees you."
"I can handle myself."
"Of course you can, you're my number one slay gal. What if Faith can't handle herself though? She's still hanging onto the edge Buffy… what if seeing you pushes her over that edge? Do you really want to take that risk?"
Did she?
Absolutely.
"And what if it does the opposite? You don't know what seeing me will do to Faith, none of you do. You keep telling me she's getting better, she's doing really great - you even said `terrific' the other day. So what's the what - how does everyone else know what would happen, when I haven't got the first clue myself?"
"Do I need to state the risk part again?"
"No, you need to give me the details. When's the scheduled slay-fest set to occur?"
Seeing that his gaze wasn't weakening. Trying to soften the order. "Should I wear black tie?"
"Don't make me do this Buffy."
His words making her want to soften everything. Buffy could see in an instant that he didn't want to tell her, she knew how loyal his heart was, she knew that he wouldn't want to betray anyone. And that made her feel bad because she knew that she would make him commit the betrayal. She knew that she would look to rely on every year that had passed between them, every memory of friendship; whatever it took to have her getting what she needed.
Anything to at least gain back some sort of control.
"I'm sorry Xander. I wouldn't ask you though, if it wasn't important to me. You know how much Faith means to me. You know what I feel for her…"
"No I don't."
Shocked into standing still. Struck by dumbness.
"I know you care about her, but so what? I think it's safe to say that I care about her too. I love you Buffy - you know that, and you know I'd do anything you asked of me; but I can't do this. If it all goes wrong, if something happens to Faith because of-"
"I love her."
"You what?"
She what?
"You heard me…" Having to find the bed again because she knew only how to collapse under the shock of everything that her words had just revealed. To herself. To Xander. The weight unbearable. "…don't make me say it again."
"I didn't… are you sure? Maybe you're just feeling down, everything is getting on top of you…"
"No. I mean yes, I'm sure. I can't breathe for thinking about her… I can't eat for worrying about her. All I want is to make her better, Xander - to see her smiling again. Whether I like it or not, I can't keep telling myself that this is just some crazy kind of crush."
And she really couldn't.
Buffy had pondered obsession, would have gladly taken obsession over what she was sure she was feeling now. But it wasn't that. It was this. The reason that her chest only held a dead beat. The reason that she had never been able to let Faith go…
"Wow."
Bringing her eyes back to Xander. Stunned himself into sitting back down; peering at her now as if maybe he would see the truth. And she tried to show him. Felt the tears gathering and swallowed them down - just held herself steady as she thought of all that Faith meant to her. As she offered it all to Xander.
"You really…? The big L, with Faith?"
Just the strength to nod.
"Wow." Relieved as she saw him smile. "And this isn't just some ploy to get me to tell you the secret slay location?"
"No Xander, it's the reason. What else am I supposed to do - bury the feelings again? Pretend that I'm somehow living, when all I can think about is Faith? I need to see her."
"Buffy…"
"And you don't know - you don't know what she feels for me. You told me she won't talk about it to anyone, so maybe she's burying them too, right? And with Will warning her off like she did, it's no wonder that she doesn't want to see-"
"Shhh."
She leant her head against his shoulder as he pulled her in close. Stopping her frantic babble, allowing real words to break free. To vocalise the pain…
"I won't hurt her Xander, I promise. This is my last chance… this is all that I have left."
His sigh breaking her flow.
"Please?"
His words seeking to mend her heart.
"Okay. But if something happens…"
"Nothing will happen. Please, Xander…"
"Right. Thursday night. After midnight. There's some old folk's place up on Ocean Drive… that's all I know."
His monotone making her feel like shit. The way that his shoulders had slumped as he had told her, the way that he was looking at her now.
"Thank you."
Offering the only thing that she could.
Buffy knew that this was a gigantic risk, but what was the risk compared to the loss? How could she possibly get on a plane in five days time without taking one last chance to reach Faith? To find that space to place a foothold. To begin to set things right.
It was no risk compared to love.
...continued in chapter 21...