Chapter Twenty-one.

Faith tried to take a deep, steadying breath for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Everything within her keened to hear the alluring call of sunset. Each of her senses individually heightened, the electricity already offering her the comfort of the buzz that was creeping enticingly along each of her limbs. Awakening the slayer.

And then there was the flip side. The place that wasn’t finding comfort in anything which offered a reminder of the past. The place that had dictated she spend all of the evening pounding furious punches into a lifeless dummy just to keep some sort of focus. Some sense of control.

Really so easy to remember how it used to be. How it still was if she closed her eyes long enough.

Not what she wanted. Trying to smash through the darkness with a look towards light:

Everything was different here. Life was different here.

For so many nights now, Faith had found herself re-examining her stagnant view of existence through a new kind of microscope. A soul filled vampire always ready to counter-argue anything which stank too much like bullshit - always ready to put her back on the path when she felt like she wanted to stray…

“So what’s the point? I can’t change what I did - you said yourself that it never stops hurting - so what’s the fucking point?! It’d be easier for everyone if I just gave up.”

“You take it one day at a time, Faith. It isn’t ever easy, it’s not supposed to be easy, you can never take back the things that you’ve done. But you keep trying; every single minute you try to be a better person. You work hard, you take the pain - then one day, without even realising it, you find yourself living again. You can look in the mirror and face who you are.”

“And that’s redemption?”

“That’s redemption.”

“Shit dude. Guess you’re totally screwed then.”

And she had ridden him hard for his lack of living, for his total inability to ever study his own reflection; but deeper than that, she had listened to his words. She hadn’t meant to, it was one of those nights when her fury had raged until sunrise, where all that she truly wanted to do, was to stop his endless assault of truth seeking missiles with a sharp slice of wood to the heart.

“Everyone else is ready to forgive you, Faith, why aren’t you ready to face up to what you’ve done?”

“Screw you, deadhead. I am facing up. I’ve fucking relived Sunnydale so many times, I might as well still be there.”

“And Buffy?”

Fuck off.

It had been a rage filled night. Not knowing why he was digging so intently - what the fucking obsession was with wanting to talk about Buffy. And then she had understood. Faith had been telling Angel with an ever increasing steadiness that she wanted to change, that the darkness had had its pound of flesh and she was ready for the good times again. To be good again. A bit. As much as she could be. But still she couldn’t face the confusion of talking about Buffy. She could talk around Buffy with the expertise of a well versed Traffic Cop - short blonde ahead? Just follow the diversions. But to touch the feeling? To even consider the feeling in daylight?

She wasn’t ready to face the pain. She wasn’t ready for redemption. She wouldn’t be ready to live again until she had faced up to everything. To everyone. Maybe. Still not sure how that one would work. Whether bagels would be enough to stop her wanting to rip Buffy’s head from her shoulders. To rip the clothes from her body.

The thoughts still so fucking confusing.

At least Angel hadn’t dressed it up though. That had been what had forced her to listen. Forced her to feel the words. There wasn’t any bullshit there; no pretending that she could skip her way gaily back from insanity with barely a backwards glance. Without witnessing the carnage that she herself had caused. No. He had told her that she would have to live with the pain. But then - at least he had told her that she could live.

It was a new view. Accepting that she would always feel those same feelings inside, but fighting at last to silence them. To quiet the demon voices that called out to her with the taunting tones of endless torment, that followed her through every single day to remind her of who she was. What she was.

She was bad. She was evil. She was a killer.

All that Faith really wanted now, was to be different. To do like Angel had said and maybe one day look into a mirror and not be disgusted by the person that she saw looking back. By the things that she had done. Had enjoyed doing.

Making her sick with the nervousness now; silently studying the clock and waiting for Angel to come get her. Not sure exactly what the plan was, where exactly she was going; just knowing that tonight was the night. Tonight she would slay again. For real. No boundaries of Angel’s gym to keep the insanity at bay, nothing but her and the power she remembered so well. Everything about being a slayer remembered so well. Never able to hide how it had made her feel; the fighting. The hormones that could never be harnessed after she had driven a stake through the centre of all evil, how her limbs would sing with such sweet anticipation until she gave them the release that they desired. Such deep down fucking lust. Riding it from her body hard. Everything ridden hard. But deeper than that. Harder than that. A whole lot fucking darker than that:

Touching death. That was where the real power lay. Holding the very threads of existence in the palm of her hand, being the one with the ultimate control, the final say so over living and dying. Provoking the worst kind of feeling - awakening all of those nasty desires; making her believe that she really was all sorts of invincible.

No one could touch her.

And Faith still didn’t know if she was strong enough to fight the feeling. If she could be good enough to stop being bad. Sure - she had the words of the other souled vampire to keep her head pointed in the right direction, but even then, his words had only added to the other confusion:

“I touched more evil than your pretty mind could ever dream up - I was the Big Bad that all other bads were scared of.”

Almost wanting to smile past the severity of his words when she had witnessed the way that he postured. Striking a pose. Eventually making her chuckle.

“You didn’t have a soul then Spike - it doesn’t count.”

“You think it’s different now, slayer? You think I don’t still crave a little of that feeling? Truth is, once you’ve touched it, you never wanna let go. You never stop wanting it.”

“So what happened? Why don’t you go grab the darkness?”

“Fell in love with a girl.”

And that was that. Knowing that he thought he was telling a tale for both of them, showing her how it was. And her, Faith, still so unsure of anything. She had been doing well with the Buffy stuff, doing everything to distance herself from the feeling; to focus only on the other things that she had to think about if she was to take a different path. But now - with slaying - how the hell was she meant to forget?

Something so fucking sublime in the way that her skin had glistened with the flush of exhilaration whenever they had fought side by side - heart thumping, blood racing - every single bit as intense as when they had fought face to face. Always so much to feel. Too much to feel.

It had brought out her bad side. Needing to defile the feeling before it could take a deeper hold. Needing to fight off anything that had felt like vulnerability.

It was tempting her bad side now. She felt vulnerable now.

Scared of who she was. Who she might be. Still wishing that she could turn back the clock to that time before she had ever met Buffy; when it was simply about good over evil. When she didn’t know enough to know that she had only ever been destined to be second best.

The slow sliding sound of the elevator arriving, stunned Faith’s thoughts back into the present. Her eyes focusing again on the face of the clock, her feet looking to stand with an urgency that she was sure she wasn’t feeling.

This was it. A meeting with destiny.

Holding out her hand as Angel armed her again with a stake, remembering how to breathe as his words broke through the silence:

“It’s time, Faith.”

Time to meet her maker.

The plans that had been made on the strength of Xander’s information had not been made alone; Buffy had relied upon the bond that had grown between herself and the girls to unite each of them in the quest to regain Faith. Telling Kennedy first because she needed to talk it through, and then Kennedy insisting that the girls were in. That there was no freaking way that Buffy was going out to face god knows what, all on her own. And Buffy had remembered imploring them not to be alone; now she was reaping the full flush of benefits. Leading an educational fieldtrip into why slayers should never date in the workplace.

Giles would be proud. If he knew. Which he didn’t.

He would have approved of her stealth though, that she was sure of. The way that they had run an extensive sweep of the area the night before, the way that she had personally checked every damn vantage point until she had been sure that she could see every single inch of the cemetery. And tonight; the way that they had arrived so early, had crept so expertly into place, everyone working on the agreement that this was Buffy’s show. No one was to do anything unless it came from her. Even Kennedy accepting the rules. Understanding what kind of a quest they were on. Settling herself just one branch away, up overhead, surrounded by foliage.

It was something that had made Buffy smile - that this brash, loudmouthed, annoying wiseass could be sat up in a tree in the middle of the night, just to offer help. To cover her back. It was a friendship that was developing beneath the slayer bond - someone she could talk to about the way that she felt. Someone who understood when she hoped that Willow would have been the one to understand.

And Kennedy had never blushed when they talked about sex stuff:

“I bet you’re just dying to do the low down slip and slide with her…”

“Hold up Kennedy; for one that’s naughty talk, and we never do naughty talk straight after slaying. And two; I wouldn’t know how to slip and slide even if I wanted to - I mean honestly, what the hell do you do?”

“No way! You never grilled Willow on this? You’ve never even watched the adult channel?”

“No. And absolutely no. I wouldn’t have the first clue which bits were for slipping and which bits were for sliding…”

“As long as it’s wet, you can’t go wrong.”

So very informative.

It had urged her into thinking about possibilities. It had heightened her senses in all of the wrong places when she should have been focusing only on the air that shifted around her. Almost missing Faith’s arrival. The moment when the rasping tones that only spoke to her now in the softness of dreams, had finally split the silence of her vigil. Sensing the sudden steadiness of the girls all around her - knowing that everyone was focused on what would happen next.

And Buffy had re-found her focus too. Fixing her eyes, maybe losing the focus further. Really so hard to think about trivialities such as air, when Faith was only the shortest distance away.

Buffy had certainly lost her breath.

Like a sucker punch to the solar plexus the moment when she had first caught sight. That same old cocky strut, the same look of deep-down empowered indifference; like she didn’t need to take any notice because she already knew everything that there was to know. Buffy recognised that cover, remembered enough to look beneath it, to search out the nervous laughter that ended every sentence; to feel her heart ache as she realised inherently that Faith was scared. She had seen Faith scared before. The very first time that she’d met her, Faith had been scared.

Buffy wanted to go to her then. Wanted to shirk all of the words about patience and time and drop right down at her feet - maybe remind her again that they were a team; that regardless of anything, she still had her back covered. Faith didn’t need to be scared. Not of anything anymore.

Not allowed to do that though. Buffy had instead been forced to feel a pang of a different kind as Angel had appeared at Faith’s side; talking his steady words, reaching out to place a calming hand upon her shoulder. And he was good with her. Even through the hazy green of sudden jealousy, Buffy could see and accept that he was good with her. Letting go of her breath as Faith had sucked in a lungful:

“So what time do the old folks like to party?”

“This isn’t a party, Faith.”

“Only if you’re doing it wrong.”

All hell breaking loose as if that had been the cue that evil was waiting on. Or at least someone’s dearly departed grandparents, who right then looked like they should most definitely be residing somewhere close to hell. A him and a her. Matching waxy complexions. Matching looks of hunger. Their mouths growling loud as they advanced purposefully upon the power poised Faith - her fight stance affected - her mouth drawn back in a smile that offered a lifetime of delight.

And far up in the branches, somewhere much closer to heaven, Buffy had also found her smile again as she witnessed Faith’s return. Lost in the moment, lost in the memory. The feeling that was so much more intrinsic than anything that could ever be called a slayer bond; the very thing that she had insisted to Xander was love. That she knew was love. Holding her back now from racing forward and joining in the fight. Just sitting expertly up on her branch. High enough not to bring gazes; to watch without being watched. To recognise all that she was being shown:

Because something here was different… this was all different. A different girl to the one that they had kept locked in a cage. A different person to the one who had raged so furious and futile against the bars of her imprisonment. Hearing instead her howls of success. Studying the face of her laughter as she reduced to dust the final vampire from the very morbid couple. The turn. The high five. The happiness.

And it was enough.

Buffy’s heart would still break on the silent goodbye; but for now she knew - she felt - that this was good enough. To see Faith smiling was everything. It was what she had said to Xander - that had been her definition of love.

A tear threatening to form in her eye even as Kennedy whispered down to draw her sight to the straggling vampire that was encroaching on the space right below them; passing directly underneath, looking to stalk his way slowly towards Angel and Faith. Their backs turned. Focus distracted by the still strong Boston drawl that was cheering on their victory. And Buffy could feel what was happening before she saw it. Her eyes darting upwards… the movement above her. The crossbow pointing through leaves…

…the movement in front of her. Instinctively knowing that Faith was drawing her stake. Ready. Waiting. Playing the vampire. Whispered words not quick enough…

“Kennedy, wait!”

The soft thwack of the arrow beginning its flight. Faith’s sudden turn. The instant of impact. Confusion so obvious through the cloud of settling dust.

“What the fuck?!”

Brown eyes beginning the quickest scan ever of the area all around. And Buffy held tight - tensing - knowing that the pounding in her chest was likely to give them all away at any moment. The moment. Faith’s gaze following the moonlight to peer into all of the secretive spaces - her mouth forming the silent question of ‘B?’, as Buffy threw off her cover to drop down from the branches.

“Faith.”

Not sure if she was expecting a greeting in return, just sure that she wasn’t expecting the same sudden sneer; the way the air instantly cooled as Faith tore her gaze back towards Angel.

“You set me up? This is all a fucking set-up!?”

“No Faith - I had no idea that she would be here.”

“Right, that’s why you’ve been banging on the Buffy box so hard all fucking week. I should’ve known - every fucking time and I still fucking fall for it…”

Buffy caught Angel’s accusing glare, watched the way that Faith stepped up to face off against him - and she could almost live with that. That little unfriendly place called jealousy, insisting that watching a division form between the pair in front of her, was not all bad. There were positives…

But no. She had remembered love when she’d seen Faith’s smile, and she refused to lose that feeling so quickly. Not prepared to settle for just a fleeting glance. Stepping forward - clearing her voice to make sound. To maybe break the tension.

“Wait Faith, it wasn’t Angel, he didn’t know anything about this.”

“You expect me to believe that? You think I don’t see what this is? Fuck, you just always gotta keep the control.”

“No. I wanted to see you before I left. You do know that I‘m leaving, right?”

Just two sentences allowed before Angel found his way to block the space right in front of her. Blocking her light. Blocking her sight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Buffy? Do you realise how reckless you’re being? Did you even stop to think for a moment about anyone other than yourself?”

His tone forcing her back. The absolute aggression that had sprung into his words as a defensive wall for Faith, making her wonder if there would be punches; if he was willing to push that far to prevent her from having the moment that she had come there needing. And she hoped not; had been prepared to walk away just a moment ago - but not now - not now that she had met the gaze again. Had seen the snarl. Finding an aggressive stance to match Angel’s harsh tone… ready to fight if that’s what it took.

Forgetting that her back was covered.   

The soft sudden whoosh surprising Buffy, as the remaining slayers on the fieldtrip dropped down from their covers. The instant hum surrounding her as they sought to even up numbers, as they looked to protect one of their own.

“Yo, you wanna back off, vamp?”

Kennedy the one who of course found confrontation the fastest; maybe still juiced from the sharp slay of her crossbow; glad to still be closing in on the sniff of more prey. Her arm still itching to get in a fight. Buffy sensed it as easy as she sensed the prickle that was urging her own arm into working - instincts still confused by nature.

Angel - vampire. It was always there somewhere.

Stepping up now to prevent catastrophe. Trying to remember that all of this had been about seeing Faith. About getting her to listen for maybe half a second to any of the number of things that she wanted to say. To at least, possibly, if Buffy held onto her greatest hope, have Faith saying that one day, no matter if it was still real far away, she would be ready to talk. To listen. To build the bridges.

“Kennedy, back down. Angel’s just a little bit excitable, I think it’s a territorial-”

“Damn…” The heavy tones reaching up to silence her instantly. “…guess these are your new bitches, B. You sure got‘em trained good.”

Not able to find words that could answer Faith’s sarcastic taunting. Not needing to. The reassuring hum from Kennedy, threatening to turn into something a lot more dangerous as she rounded to offer a look. A tightly whispered -“Are you frickin’ kidding me?”

Letting all of her well rehearsed attitude spin her back Faith’s way. Getting up in her face. “You’d better start watching your mouth, unless you wanted me to make you my bitch?”

The glare settling tight. Nothing making Buffy think that anything positive was coming from the night. Angel’s slow step forward only confirming the fact. And even now, barely an inch away from touching Faith, and still there were more barriers. Just one more thing to keep her away. His hand soft on her shoulder again, her breathing instantly looking to calm.

“Come on Faith, we’re leaving.”

And no! No, no, no, no, NO!!

Buffy’s heart constricting. Her throat constricting. Yet again everything turning into the same old fucked up disaster; not even just this once allowed for something to be anything different, to make a choice and have fate close its eyes and bless her. Grabbing so hard for her mantra and remembering again how many times she had risen from the ashes, how many times she had made that crawl from the grave,  how many times she had managed to reverse the odds.

“Wait, Faith - please, can we just talk?”

Sounding so pathetic, so everything that she had promised herself she wouldn’t be. She would be strong. She would be brave. She would find a sneer herself as Angel looked to answer her words.

“Now’s not the time, Buffy.”

His arm sliding tighter around Faith. Not letting Buffy see the look in her eyes, not letting her listen to anything that Faith may have been thinking to say. Just walking away. Again. Just faced by her back. Again. And she may have found a silent sob; may have finally broken down once and for all in front of the army that destiny had decided to charge her with leading - but she didn’t. Kennedy sidling up to her to ward off thoughts of tears, words whispered again under a cloaked offer of hope…

“You’re so gonna owe me for this if it hurts.”

A wink. A look of such complete mischievousness that Buffy was sure she should be feeling the first flow of worry.

“Kennedy?”

“Just listen…” Her voice rising to encompass all of her audience; all of the early leavers…

“…Yeah, you never said that she was a coward though, Buffy. Guess she likes being the vampire’s bitch.”

Oh yes.

And maybe the night wasn’t going to be over quite so early.

Faith’s footsteps instantly halting. Her harsh words spoken on the turn.

“You wanna throw down, little girl?” All of it a warning. All of it looking to remember the dark and nasty. “Any special places that you want me to touch?”

The maliciousness winding tight around the deep seductive tone. An offer to get physical. And again, for Buffy, it was enough.

“I think that’s all the help I need Kennedy. I want to talk to Faith alone. Can you make sure that Angel gets home okay?”

“Wait, you can stop right there. This has already gone on too long. There’s no way that I’m leaving you alone with Faith, you have no idea what-”

“I wasn’t asking you to leave. Girls - make sure he gets home okay.”

Her commanding tone choosing that time to re-find everything inside that sounded like strength, everything that made destiny sleep well at night knowing that the world had been placed in good hands. The slayers stepping up to surround Angel; to cut him off from something that to them had nothing more to do with him. Rona taking her turn to find front and centre.

“This is slayer business now; you can either leave the easy way or the hard way. Makes no real difference to us.”

Vi releasing her quirky smile to try and soften all of the hostility that sat heavy in the air. “Yeah, you may be letting us stay rent free in your hotel, but we’ve got wood mister…, uh… Mister Angel, and we’re not afraid to use it.”

His eyes never softening as he had weighed up the odds. His tone brutal as he finally turned to address Buffy again.

“You’re acting like nothing but a stupid, selfish schoolgirl - you’d better hope that nothing happens to her…”

Too intent on watching Faith, to even think about offering Angel an answer. Faith’s gaze also fixing. Like maybe she was accepting that now was the time. That facing up, had to start somewhere. Like maybe with facing off.

Hearing Angel’s final words as he was being led away.

“Just stay calm, Faith.”

“It’s okay, Angel. I got this.”

And silence. And now. And how?

Knowing inside that she had to wait for Faith to make the first move; that yes, she herself may have instigated the show - but from here on in it was Faith’s show to run. The only one that could set the pace. Who could smash the opening volley.

“Still can’t get the message, B - you want me to be bad again?”

Everything offered inside those so few words. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Buffy caught and carried every emotion, tried her best to return them with something that meant anything. A soft lob that would maybe land without obstruction.

“I never wanted you to be bad.”

Not a chance.

“Jesus! Wasn’t it enough to lock me in a cage, wasn’t it enough to stick a god damned knife in my gut? When have I been punished enough by you? When the fuck will you leave me alone?!”

“I’m not punishing you…”

The fist telegraphed a mile away. Still able to land though, still able to cut a swathe through Buffy’s words and throw her from her path. Stopping the flow. Her mouth closed on impact to hear the venomous outpouring of Faith’s accusations.

“You hound me in my sleep! You fucking hound me when I’m awake - what do I have to do, B?” A kick sailing viciously close to places that she wanted to protect. “Who do I have to kill to make you hate me again?”

As if Faith instinctively knew how to inflict the most damage. As if she thought that the words which carried the same twisted message as the past would be enough to get things moving. Not expecting the lessons that had been gained from four years not sleeping. Buffy smiling to cover the wince, finding soft words to counteract the pain…

“I can’t hate you anymore. I told you already…”

Not allowing the cry to break free as Faith struck out again. Not stopping the plea for sanity as she looked to raise her hands in protection. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Just shut the fuck up! Fight me!”

Blows gaining speed. Everything shutting off except for the steady rhythm of attack; a kick, a punch. Faith’s scream of frustration as Buffy held herself back from anything that felt like retaliation. Just holding her ground. Deflecting the words.

“I said fucking fight me!”

“I’m not doing this Faith.”

“No? Thought I heard you liked it rough.” A snarl smashing her smile. Another kick landed. “Heard you liked it real fucking nasty.”

Thrown onto her back and hitting a gravestone; not able to not cry out. To not feel dazed. One second where the warrior within, refused absolutely to take a one sided beating. Her own leg kicking out; smashing hard into soft flesh. Bringing a surprised shout of pain. A drawn out look of absolute satisfaction.

“Now that’s more like it B. That’s what I’ve been missing.”

Shaking off the hit to stand ready for more. Faith’s taunting words searching to find targets that would provoke more of the fisted responses - and Buffy kept on swallowing. Kept on defending. Her parries becoming more and more useless as Faith took her anger to an uncontrollable level. Such bare naked rage in everything that was being said…

“You fucking want this, you always wanted this! You need me to be bad, you fucking need me to be bad!”

…the force of the words pushing her back. Finding shelter under the tree that had been her earlier sanctuary; not finding comfort in the way that the bark scratched rough through her top. By the way the low branches stopped her hands from protecting her head from the hits to soft places. Feeling the one that broke her lip, that put blood across her mouth.

And the hand. So slender around her neck again. Nothing coming close to feeling this forceful in the basement. Those brown eyes penetrating her now with such intensity, such heat from the battle, that Buffy believed she would burn up in an instant. Holding her breath as the tones hit nasty again, as the face edged slowly in. Just a hairs breadth from her lips. An inch from losing her life.

“Is this what I have to do, B? Is this what it takes to make you hate me?” 

So hate filled. So hurt filled. The gaze wide-eyed and panicked. The grip tightening hard around her throat…

“Faith?”

And connection.

Smashing apart anything and everything that stood in its way. The savagery of Faith’s lips crashing through the surprise that would have brokered resistance; just yielding. A kiss filled with fury. Not knowing where it had come from - if this was the act that was to make her hate Faith - not caring. Swept up by the rawness of teeth bruising hard where punches had landed. The hands leaving her throat to find arms. Pinning her up, pinning her back.

And she gave up control.

Buffy had decided long before she had arrived this evening, that this would go the way that Faith wanted - postcards, a letter at Christmas; whatever or whenever… however Faith wanted. Letting her invade her mouth with the tongue that had hurled abuse so degrading… really not caring. Arching her neck as the touch was dragged to spark passion across her pulse point. Needing to breathe. To find footing.

“Faith?”

Hard breaths. Harsh breaths.

Eyes meeting again. And in the moment that her hands were released, she let them find Faith. Let them cling to Faith. Dragging them through hair to bring lips back to hers; not surrendering this time. Insisting with the softness she was offering that this didn’t have to be so hard. It didn’t have to be about hating. Her body relaxing into the kiss as she felt Faith responding… exploring now. A whimper now. The slightest of struggles as her arms were pulled away again… as a thigh slipped so deft between legs…

…a nervous rhythm. Not able not to speak. Not able not to break the moment…

“God yes…”

Her prayer of thanks, like a last minute call to all of Faith’s demons. The pull back so sudden. The look so lost, so confused, so what the hell was happening now?

And no again.

No!

Already seeing the yes. The panic provoking attack. The warm feel of lips replaced by the cold feel of hate. The final punch. Another end.

Barely moving before Faith was gone. Her shadow already sucked into darkness. Her presence just left in the memory of the kiss.

And what the fuck?! Beating any other what the fuck moment that may have involved best friends and naughty thoughts  and all of the shared beds at sleepovers - and really, again, what the fuck?!

Buffy could feel the pain of every blow she had failed to deflect; could taste the small stain of blood that was already looking to cake her bottom lip. But kisses? Where the heck did kisses come into the plan? When had that been decided? Who had decided it?

And how did they make the pain feel better already?

As Buffy took a final look around the unimpressive graveyard that had been the backdrop to a battle that had ended in confusion, the only thing that she knew for sure, was that she was going to be facing all sorts of hell. That this outcome was going to be viewed as the worst thing that could have happened; Faith made mad and then made free. And she knew that she would be collecting all of the blame. All of the consequences.

Still able to smile though as she readied herself to pass through hell on the pathway to heaven. Because Faith had kissed her; Buffy had decided. Not the other way around. Not her begging for scraps from the table that had been closed off to visitors. It had been all about Faith. And Buffy would find her now - damn it - she would find her, tie her up and wash out her ears if she had to. But regardless of who stood in her way, of what level of hell she would have to endure to get to where she was going; Faith was going to listen to what she had to say. She was going to have to hear why it wasn’t about hate. Why it could never be about hate, no matter how confusing. And she would absolutely hear why Buffy had pulled her back in for that second kiss, when the first had only been given to stoke something like disgust.

A cover.

A place for Faith to hide.

With the passion that had relaxed and reciprocated when the world had finally sat softer, Buffy believed that she now knew what it was that Faith was afraid of. What it was that she was hiding from.

Vowing to not let her hide anymore.

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