Chapter Twenty-Five.

Faith may have finally dropped, may have closed her eyes on all of the torment and closed her ears to all of the words; but even in sleep she hadn’t managed to find rest. There was still too much to remember - too much to feel - too many images that had scratched and scraped at her insides like broken splinters of an endless dream. So many fragments of so many lives that when welded together, spoke only of her life.

Mostly of her life.

Hard to ignore the essence of the dream - where it was that her mind seemed to want to meander to at the end of every shattered sequence. No matter the bloodshed or shouts of anguish, the depravity that existed in the darkened depths of a damaged subconscious - the destination was always the same. The feeling was always the same:

Someone had saved her a seat in heaven. There were comics by the bedside.

Her eyes flicking up to see a different bedside now. Not encased in sheets of white or secluded in the silence of peace; just the same old bed. Angel’s bed. Currently home to one very pissed off Xander.

And she could see the way that he kept his gaze trained down to the comic in his hand; noting with sadness the way that his jaw worked hard to restrain his words. And she hadn’t meant to cause him the discomfort, hadn’t meant to make him seek friendship in fiction instead of with her. It was just… the things that he’d said. The things that she had said. Not meaning to ask… just slipping out. A question that had betrayed all of her thoughts in the very instant that she’d managed to speak it:

“Is B okay?”

Stopping the easy flow of banter. Erasing his smile.

“Didn’t think you cared.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Something sounding hostile in the room before Faith had been able to make a grab at it. The sneer that crossed her lips in her only worn out defence against the many other things that her mouth might’ve said - that single gaze of Xander’s that had told her he wasn’t prepared to back down either.

“Yeah Faith, you did. Can you deal with the honest answer though?”

A shrug. A whatever. Deeper than that.

“She’s not so good. She’s not - look, I don’t understand everything that’s going on with you and Buffy, but if this is all just some kind of revenge thing… if all you’re trying to do is to hurt her, then well done. Great job Faith. She’s hurting. You win.”

The honest answer not being softened with a return to his easy smile and the fun filled banter. Nothing soft for Faith.

“She hurt me first.”

The thing that had torn his gaze away. That had forced her to sit through fifteen minutes where silence and memories were her only companion.

And she was still trying. Every single fucked up minute, just trying to rip away the truth from the lies, trying to see through the four years of coma filled sedation and understand what the fuck anything meant. Because Faith didn’t know. She didn’t understand. Never raised with arms that had held her close and shown her the security that could exist in the feeling; just grabbed and groped by arms that had only ever shown her how to run. How to flee. How to block out any emotion that spoke anything other than hate.

Truly, honestly, so broken beneath the hate.

Swallowing the fear to keep facing the demons. Turning now to step timid to the bed - to keep her end afloat. To put trust in the friendship that had grown between herself and Xander.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”

His gaze leaving fiction to listen to her facts.

“This… everything… you don’t know how fucked up it is. I’m not - I don’t mean the stuff from before, Xander. Sunnydale stuff. I mean now stuff… since I woke up. It’s all fucked up.”

“It’s messed up for Buffy too.”

“Then she messed it up - I didn’t ask for this. Coulda left me at the bottom of the dust pit and I wouldn’t have given a shit. Why didn’t she just follow the rules? Why the fuck has she always gotta be pushing?”

“I think you probably know why.”

“Yeah, cos of some dumb superhero complex. Doesn’t want poor old me reminding her that she’s not always perfect, that she can’t always win.”

Faith could see his jaw working again. The grinding of teeth that was holding his face tight, the single staring eye that was offering no respite from a conversation that was weeks in the making. And she got that. Had been surprised at how long he’d been able to hold off from taking the other side.

“What? You telling me I’m wrong?”

“I’d tell you you’re an idiot if I thought it’d make a difference.”

“An idiot?”

“You have your moments.”

“She has her moments too.”

Something stubborn forcing her up from the bed with her own need to not back down. To confront the side that Xander was taking: “All this was her, ain’t no way the blame’s biting my ass this time. I was happy to stay away, I didn’t wanna deal with her shit anymore.”

“I thought you were meant to be dealing.”

“What? You’re stealing lines from Angel now - can’t come up with your own shit to say?”

And even though her words were coated in acid, Faith could still sense that this was somehow new. She could feel the itching of the issues that were always there to haunt her, but she wasn’t feeling the same biting rage that went along with them. Not needing to pound Xander, not needing to rip the tongue from his throat to have him shutting up. Maybe wishing for it, but knowing that she wouldn’t be doing it. Just breathing. Just taking a second to make it sit calm - to silence insanity.

The drawn out sigh signalling her return. Finding that his gaze was still intent on pinning her down. Waiting for his words. Already knowing what they would be:

“You kissed her, Faith…”

Because there was nothing in that about staying away. Maybe the first time - so sure that the act would have Buffy screaming with revulsion - but the second time…

“…and that’s not how us regular folk like to say ‘stay away’.”

“Well she wouldn’t quit with the yapping. Tried smacking her mouth shut, but she wouldn’t stop whining. That’s all the kiss was.” 

“Really?”

The second time was something else.

The thing that had ripped away the boundaries to remind Faith of what every single tinted pink and dipping green had ever meant. Provoking the dream. The taste that had driven her so far past crazy… so far past anywhere. Nothing about shutting up.

“Really. Don’t know what the fuck B was up for, but I was just trying to keep the sitch simple. It was ‘sposed to end the bullshit, not…”

“What?”

“I dunno. Told ya Xander, it’s all fucked up.”

And she shrugged again. Maybe softened the gesture with something like a smile; her teeth breaking through the moment to nibble nervously along her lip. “You should go ask B - she’s the one that took it someplace else.”

Someplace shrouded in the feeling that made Faith want to run. Remembering the tingle down her spine that the hands in her hair had provoked; the way that lips had touched hers so softly… so heart-achingly gentle. Making her wonder. Leaving her scared.

“I never asked for that. I don’t want that.”

“You’re sure about that?”

And Xander had left the bed too - left the comics behind. Intensifying Faith’s need to flee. Strengthening her desire to be different. To stay still and face up. Not moving away as he found the space that felt like close… not being a wiseass just to make him shut up.

“I’m pretty sure it’s fucked up. You know the deal, you know it can’t ever be anything different. B’s just dreaming if she thinks this has a happy ending.”

“Don’t you want the happy ending, Faith?”

“Ain’t mine to have. Stunts I’ve pulled, I’ll be touching a thousand ‘fore I ever get the chance to square things away.”

And that was how it felt. That was why there was anguish in her dreams instead of just the peace and tranquillity that the shared vision had dared her to remember. No easy words of forgiveness having her sleeping better at night - not stopping the same old shakes that had woken afresh at the end of the coma. No. Putting it all on show for Xander. Wondering what words he would find to make that scenario sound better.

“I’ve pulled some stunts too.”

Nothing that she was expecting.

“Yeah, you’re a regular Evel Knievel. Musta missed all the action while I was catching my Z’s.”

“Okay, so I didn’t go all big with insanity and try to end the world; but I did some things I’m not so proud of. I hurt someone that I love, too.”

And Faith had already heard this one.

“Demon chick?”

“Ex-demon chick. And yes - Anya. I told you how that one went down, and I don’t see how it’s any less bad than anything you did. Less bloody maybe, but no less bad.”

“Think it’s the bloody that makes the difference.”

“No, it’s the outcome that makes the difference. At the end of the day Faith, none of the bad stuff even mattered. It never stopped me loving Anya, and it never stopped her loving me. That was all that really mattered.”

“Right. Cos you get left with the heartbreak, and she’s not here to pick up the pieces. Sounds dreamy.”

Harshness re-entering her tone. Her fingers tapping out a rhythm of dissatisfaction along her arms as she folded them tight across her chest. Still scared of what beat inside. Still safer to deny and defy, than it was to accept the feeling.

“Is that what this is?”

And now what?

“Huh?”

“You’re pissed at Buffy cos she’s leaving? You want her to stay?”

“Like fuck I do.”

“That’s how it sounds to my untrained ear; like this goes just as deep for you as it does for her. Makes my point about Anya a whole lot more pointy.”

And Faith wanted to rebuke, wanted to shout down words of nonsense with words of sense, but she had no words left. Not harsh ones or soft ones. Had only eyes that opened further, that took their turn to pin down Xander and silently demand the more:

“I’m not gonna deny Faith, that I’m left with a lot of the heartbreak - I loved her. I still do love her. I’m willing to bet that I’ll always have a place in my heart that’s only there for Anya; but I can promise you now, scout’s honour, that I’d be a whole lot more heartbroken if we hadn’t made our peace. If she’d gone without me telling her how I still felt - how I’ll always feel.”

Still no words.

“It’s not too late, Faith. You’ve still got a chance to make things right before Buffy goes.”

“No chance.”

Spoken on autopilot.

“Then you really are an idiot. I said I didn’t understand, and I don’t - wouldn’t have called it, not in a million years - but I know that what Buffy feels for you is real. I’ve seen her Faith, I’ve heard her speak the words, and if you’re prepared to just throw that away, to act like it’s something that doesn’t even matter to you, then you’re less than an idiot.”

“Guess that’s the way it is then.”

Back in control. Holding the line of defence. Not wanting to hear more words, not needing to hear more sense. Already knowing without the vocalisation that this was something that twisted deep inside. Always had been. Always would be.

“Figure an idiot’s better than a fuck up. Gotta call it an improvement…”

Not stopping as Xander pushed himself away from her side to gather up his comics. Clearing the bed of the easy distraction; not meeting her eyes anymore as he shrugged himself into his jacket.

“…and ya know, with B - I really hope she gets her shit together, I do; just don’t wanna be anywhere close to the shit myself. I’m done with the crazies.”

“I’m outta here.”

“You’re going?”

Stating the obvious.

“Yes, I am. Because Buffy does matter to me; she matters a whole lot to me. Tomorrow she’s leaving and I don’t have a clue when I’m gonna get the chance to see her again. Heck, I don’t even know what I’m doing here anyway - what I thought I’d be able to achieve.”

Stating the disappointment.

“Xander…”

“No. We’re buds Faith, we’re tight - but you are an idiot, and you’re also full of crap. Buffy’s getting on a plane in less than a day, she’s going to England - doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Means she won’t be getting in my face anymore.”

“That’s right Faith. She won’t.”

Her eyes following his back as he walked stiff to the elevator. Her teeth the ones grinding now to keep it all in.

“You’ll call me tomorrow?”

Forced to keep it all in as he left without smiling.

And Faith got that also. She got all of it. But it didn’t change a thing. It couldn’t change a thing. Buffy gone was all that she wanted - a chance at freedom was all that she wanted. And if her dreams spoke different? If they spoke of peace and patience, trust and understanding?

Then she would sink silently down to the bed that now sat empty. She would gather up her knees, she would hold herself close; and she would release tears on a feeling that had only ever made her want to turn tail and run.

The next morning brought a franticness that wouldn’t have surprised anyone who had watched the way that Buffy had been dragging her feet over all of the plans for leaving LA. The very last one to pack her bag. The very last one left standing in her room and casting eyes over the meagreness that summed up the whole of her life. Less than a bagful really. Nothing to take away except for the memories of the past and a few of her new bought clothing essentials.

Denting her already severe lack of happy. Barely keeping her ears open to the steady babble of Willow who was sat watching from the bed. Not really remembering that a conversation took two to make it an actual conversation.

“…And I’ve said sorry again, but I don’t know, Buffy. I acted like such an ass. Worse than an - hey, are you listening to me?”

Just glad to have some sound in the background. A voice that had done its best to project contrite, a voice that had wrapped its words around sorry so many times, that Buffy hadn’t been able to do anything other than accept. Glad to accept. To push aside all of the nightmare scenarios and at least pretend that the world still sat steady.

“Buffy?”

Because if the world sat steady, then maybe she could stand steady. Maybe she would be able to straighten her shoulders again and march forward into the world without sinking down into the depression that thinking about-

“Sorry Will, what was you saying?”

Grabbing at steadiness.

“Kennedy. I really think I might have blown it for us. I just can’t believe that I was acting so-”

“It’ll be fine, you know she loves you. And sure, you haven’t been the kind, caring, and considerate Willow that we all know and love… but everyone has their off-weeks. She’ll be ready to slip and slide again before you even know it.”

“Slip and slide? I was hoping more for the snugglies.”

“Well snugglies then. She’ll be ready for snuggly time before you know it.”

The impish smile back on Willow’s face. Buffy’s face staying plain to chase away the anguish that wanted to sit there. The regret about the snuggles that she would never know. And of course, the whole slipping and sliding thing. When Kennedy had first mentioned it, it had tantalised her senses. Now it just hurt.

“You do know how sorry I am, don’t you Buffy?”

A lot. Pushing it aside to be strong. To be Buffy.

“You mean from the six thousand times that you’ve already said it? I think I got the gist Will, and you know I’m not holding a grudge. Everything’s been crazy - you were just joining in.”

“That’s the nice way of putting it.”

“It’s my way of putting it, and you have to agree or I’m likely to go postal. I’m pretty good at doing crazy too.”

But no matter how hard she tried, Buffy still couldn’t help but show the signs of all of the hurt. Her eyes starting to mist as they flitted again over all of the nothing that she had thrown into her bag; her sigh filling the room with the sound of her sorrow. And she could do this. Had so much experience at pushing aside the things that hurt, in favour of things that meant something, that it was just practiced routine that had her turning and bending to pick up the scythe; looking to Willow with the small plea for fun.

“You think I’ll be allowed to bring this as carry-on?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not entirely. I know you’re not allowed nail clippers, or scissors…”

“…or hairspray Buffy; not even the environmentally safe kind.”

“Exactly. But this isn’t any of that. It seems way too risky to pack it in my case.”

“Oh Goddess! Imagine Giles if they lost it? With the noises, and the glasses… I don’t think he’d be able to make it through the turmoil.”

“So it’s carry-on?”

“I say take the risk. If anyone argues, I’ll bend their perception: What to us is a weapon of world saveage, will to them be nothing but a harmless old… something. Hmmm, I should probably work on that. Any ideas on what the glamour could be?”

“Glamorous?”

“Helpful. I guess I could go with umbrella; what with the dimensions and our destination, it seems totally possible that you’d be carrying-”

The fun knocked sideways by the knock on the door. A firm tap. No pause for an answer. Xander the one who was there to bring interruption and instruction, carrying his words into the room with subdued in his smile.

“It’s getting time to roll. Giles wants me to bring down your bag Buffy, it’s the last one to go on the bus.”

“Right.”

Back to business. Back to feeling the emptiness as she lifted up her bag and handed it to Xander. Not so much left inside. Nothing for Buffy to focus upon, except the steady rhythm of placing one foot in front of the other. Trailing behind, still dragging her feet. Still wondering what had happened to the missing beat in her chest.

No more Xander to guard her heart. No more…

…no more Faith to remind her of what it was her heart was there for.

Not much of anything really.

Something that Buffy had cried on and accepted. She had done her best - there was nothing else that she felt she could have done to have the situation resolving any differently. She had put it all in Faith’s hands, and Faith had pushed her away. That was all. That was the end. And those were the melancholic thoughts that Buffy was so lost in thinking, that she had switched off from taking any notice of direction. Letting her feet follow blindly behind Xander and Willow; just turning corners and taking steps. Her yelp of pain quite audible as she slammed into the backs that had stopped fast in front of her:

“Ow! Guys! Is there any special reason that you’re trying to break my nose?”

The shock less audible, but no less jarring, as the backs turned to face her and the space was made for her gaze to see. What had stopped them. Why there needed to be a commotion.

“Figure that’s on account of me. Guess this is a surprise, right?”

Faith.

As in…

“Faith?”

“Heard you guys were checking out today. Angel wanted me to settle the bill, collect the cash - make sure you haven’t trashed the place.”

And if this was to be the final ‘what the fuck’ moment that would occur in LA, then it would hold the honour of being the biggest shock of ‘what the fuck’ in Buffy’s entire life. Her thoughts so sure that this was something that would so never happen, that the possibility hadn’t even blipped a signal on her radar. Hope had left her building.

So what the hell was Faith doing in it?

Pushing past her friends to complete her journey down the stairs. Slowly but surely. Remembering the straight shoulders, remembering how to hold herself steady.

“What are you doing here?”

“Told ya. Angel wanted me to-”

“Cut the crap, Faith. What do you want?”

No time left to play at placation, to make the soft roads for Faith to travel. Buffy had given her all and she had not much else to give. A scythe, a plane ticket…

Just trying to breathe as her friends found her side again; Willow bristling with a face most displeased, Xander letting out words that made no kind of sense:

“You gave up on being an idiot then?”

“Wouldn’t say that. Some things are too hard to give up.”

“You look like you’re doing okay. We’ll take it slow, I can be your sponsor…”

No time left to wonder what the heck was happening. Breaking through any covers of brainless banter to have Faith’s eyes finding hers again. Direct. To the point. Making Buffy want answers. Holding onto defences to keep the hurt from haunting her words.

“I asked what you’re doing here?”

“Got stuff to say.”

“You want to talk? Is this some kind of joke? You do know that I’m leaving in…”

Looking to Xander.

“You’ve got about fifteen minutes tops ‘til Giles goes ballistic. I’ll take your stuff out, offer a distraction.”

Handing over the scythe in a daze. Because it was okay to tell herself that she could be steady, that she could face Faith with nothing in mind but short and sharp sentences; but the truth was that she was already struggling. Already biting her tongue to stop from taking that one last shot at the something different. Letting Xander walk away with her bag and the scythe and a goofy kind of smile. Offering a lesser smile in return as Willow had dragged herself away with the last of her own words still tainted with warning:

“Lay one more finger on her Faith, and I promise you won’t have fingers left to play with.”

Like a layer of something distasteful settling over the lobby. Signalling the witch’s departure. Signalling another moment where it would be just the two of them. Kind of. No protection from the eyes of the gathering slayers; from the eyes of a younger sister who was wondering at what the last minute excitement might be.

“You think that was Red’s idea of a heartfelt goodbye?”

And Faith. Not a shred of protection from the eyes of Faith.

“Is that why you’re here? For heartfelt goodbyes?”

“Never said that. Got stuff that needs saying, figure it’s now or never.”

“Now’s good.”

Buffy’s arms crossing her chest without direction from her mind. Her fingers starting to tap with what felt like impatience.

“Now… right. Can we do this in private?”

“You want privacy?”

“Unless you wanna lay it all out in front of an audience? Not my style, but if that’s what you want.”

Feeling all of the eyes. All of the stares.

“Is your version of privacy likely to cause bruising?”

“Valid question, answer’s no. I’m not here to rough you up B, I meant what I said: got stuff to say. Should probably get moving if I’m gonna say it ‘fore you go.”

And it was enough to move Buffy. Taking the lead again. Letting Faith fall into step behind her as she showed the way to the rooms. To her own room. Empty now. Pausing as she pushed open the door, breathing deep as she waited for Faith to follow her in. Almost like she was still living in that same ‘what the fuck’ moment… no clue. No shoe dropping to fill her in on what exactly was happening. Like she was only ever destined to be waiting for Faith.

“I’ve probably got about five minutes left… what’s the stuff that needs to be said?”

A slight hint of curious raising her tone at the last. Softening it a little. Inviting an answer. Not getting the answer as Faith instead looked to map out the dimensions of the room with her fast falling footsteps. Moving around Buffy. Bypassing obstacles. Almost as if she could walk her way around the things that she had come there to say.

And Buffy had made a vow about no more hiding.

“Four minutes.”

Her fingers now tapping the same beat as the clock, her mouth not being able to resist making the smallest of smiles in response to Faith’s sudden stop and turn. The pained look that had appeared upon her face.

“I’m not good at this.”

“I think I’m getting that. Just spit it out; pretend I’m not here and get right to the point.”

“You being here kinda was the point. Or it was Xander’s point. I’m starting to see now that the guy makes sense - well, most times; still not sold on the whole Hulk deal. Green chump’s never coming close to beating Superman’s ass…”

“Faith… the point, please?”

“The point. Shit. Look B, you get that I hate you, right?”

And she had held her breath and walked the steps for this? For the same level of crap that would cause the same level of hurt, sent from the exact same mouth? It was a lot for anyone to take. Even Buffy.

“I think I’m getting a mutual feeling. You came to tell me you hate me? Again? I’m leaving Faith… I’m going. I’m out of here, across the pond… five thousand miles of staying away…”

Fighting to keep her voice even.

“…what more do you want? God, I’m done with this. Finished. You hate me - that’s great. I doubt you’ll ever have to see me again, so it’s all worked out well. I’m really happy for you - if hating me makes you feel good, then really, I’m happy for you.”

“Damn, B. You work long on that?”

“I’m not joking Faith, I’m officially sick of whatever game you think you’re here to play. I’ve got it. You hate me. Can I go now?”

Silence greeting her request.

And Buffy wouldn’t care anymore. Not about clocks and two minutes, or anything other than the fact that it felt like she had taken back some of the control. And it felt kind of good. A lot good. Already moving her feet to move around Faith. The smile starting to drop as she felt fingers grip hard on her arm to hold her in place.

“Said I had stuff to say.”

“And I said I was done with listening. Let go of me.”

Wanting to run from the touch that was burning bare skin. Shaking her arm loose and finding eyes for Faith that weren’t anything friendly. Just needing to go now. Right now. The shout from Xander only calling the now into focus; giving her an escape route that wasn’t simply about running away. Running scared. Not looking back. Not thinking back. Concentrating only on the direction of her feet. On the sad faced man that held his arms open in a hold that was everything gentle. Maybe the gentlest of tight holds that Buffy had ever felt. 

Not crying.

“This really sucks, Buff. I don’t want you to leave.”

“It sucks a lot. If it’s any consolation, I don’t want you to stay. You know it’s not too late… Giles could-”

“Or you could. Stay that is. We can get an apartment, be roomies. Be the wacky kind of neighbours that keep strange hours and bring home the dead.”

“You put it like that Xander, and I’m almost convinced.”

Even attempting a smile. Something soft as Xander’s hand reached out to tuck away a stray hair that had escaped from her ponytail. Pulling her in close again. Holding even tighter than he had held her before. So much sadness in view on the sidewalk.

“I’m gonna miss you Buffy.”

“You really think you’ll get the chance? Giles said they have telephones in England, I think they might even have computers; I’ll be in touch. I’ll be in touch so much you’ll need an overseas restraining order.”

Wanting to hold even tighter herself as Giles honked the horn on the waiting bus. The same transport out that had transported them in.  

“I think that’s your cue, Slayer. Go save the world some.”

Pulling back. Pulling forward. Another honk. Another hug.

Another ‘what the fuck’.

Fingers on bare skin again. Buffy’s arm recognising the prickle before she had been spun round to see. Still Faith. All Faith. Wanting to vocalise her anger, but not having the chance. Words already rushing forth to split the silence of surprise:

“Just what the fuck is it, you want from me B?!”

And who what?

“Jesus! I came to tell you it makes a difference, alright? Think you could climb down off your high horse long enough to hear me?”

And it looked like privacy would be the only thing that didn’t bare witness to the moment when a thousand walls were finally forced to come crashing down. Time demanding it. Now or never.

“You didn’t say that Faith. You said…”

“I know what I said, I’m not stupid, B. Still doesn’t mean I’m good at this shit. I was trying to make a point.”

“And the point is?”

Another honk. A whole row of eyes staring out at them from the windows of the bus. Narrowed eyes. Protective eyes. Willow’s eyes having Buffy lifting her hand to say it was okay. Pushing Xander to tell Giles just one more minute. One final moment. The time when maybe she would start to see the point.

“I hate you…”

“Faith-”

“Holy fuck. Can’t you just shut up?”

Buttoning her lips. Biting her lip.

“That’s not it B. The point. The hate thing. That’s what I’m trying to say. Was pretty sure that was it… woke up thinking it was all I had left - cage sure didn’t help much.”

“I’m sorry about the cage, Faith. The cage was wrong.”

“Cage was fucked up. Still not the point.”

The engine revving out its impatience behind her. And it didn’t bother Buffy. Just a few weeks ago she had been confronting Faith with an earthquake raging behind them; this seemed somewhat tame in comparison. Easy to ignore.

“So the point is?”

Concentrating every thought into making Faith speak. Making her open the mouth that had seemed to suddenly stick to being closed. Not catching her eyes anymore. Not catching anything except the same old defences and the same obsessive beating of the horn blaring out behind her.

Giving up. Knowing she had to go.

Turning without any more false chipper tones that would wish a quick goodbye. That would wish for anything.

“Buffy…”

Except for that.

The final hope. The soft sound that had spoken her name, reaching out to trace places other than just her ears. Making her feel the beat in her chest. Making nervousness rise as she waited on words that didn’t look to be coming. Still barriers. Still walls that could slam down in front of eyes.

Seeing the nothing. Knowing the nothing.

Turning away for the last time before Faith would get to say it. Taking her control and heading for the bus. Taking her nothing and walking away.

And she was so wrong…

“Don’t know what it is you want me to say. Betting I wouldn’t know how to, even if ya told me… but shit, B. It made a difference.”   

The words that she would’ve sworn were never going to come, making their own final grab at holding control. Halting the air that flowed in Buffy’s lungs. Stopping her steps from walking away. Making her eyes find Faith again.

“Dunno if that means anything to you. Fuck; it’s not like I ever know what anything means. But it did.”

“It did?”

“Yeah. Made everything different.”

And Buffy wanted to ask. Wanted to stop the world from turning if it meant that she could ask. But was she daring enough? Was she brave enough?

Absolutely.

The burning need to know, crushing everything inside that would seek to shatter her confidence. Maybe already knowing. Lips settling on soft as she asked the only question left:

“It made everything different? How different?”

“Well… it’s not all about the hate anymore.”

Gifted a smile. A smirk. A look that she had longed to remember. And it was enough. Smiling back. Stepping back. A smile for Xander, a smile for everyone. Getting onto the bus and even finding a smile for Giles. Pushing past his annoyance and impatience until he offered a soft face in return. Because it wasn’t all about the hate.

Not anymore.

Faith watching from the sidewalk with her own private case of ‘what the fuck’ reaching down to tickle her into lifting her lips higher. Because she had more than faced her demons this time. She had shouted them down and she had spoken out loud. She had finally said something that was starting to make sense.

Not weak anymore.

Feeling the weight start to lift as the bus faded off into the distance. Just turning and taking the arm that Xander threw so easy across her shoulders.

“What do ya say to getting some breakfast, Slay Gal?”

“You eat out with idiots?”

“No, I don’t. And you’re so not an idiot. You had me fooled for a minute. You did a damn fine impression; but I’m onto you now. I know what you are.”

“You do?”

“Sure I do. You’re a superhero Faith, a bona-fide, cape wearing-”

“A superhero? You totally lost the plot?”

“Well you’re my hero right now. We can get you some spandex; you’ll need a cool weapon…”

“And a lair. Can’t be a superhero without a cool lair.”

“We’ll get a cool lair…”

Their voices fading into the same distance as the bus.

A distance where the world had chosen to give a touch of peace to both of the slayers. The original slayers. A moment’s peace. A minute’s respite. Just a few short months to stop and draw breath. For the world may have made the offer of peace, yet it was already turning towards its next disaster. The next apocalypse. Towards the time when the slayers would be placed face to face. Sharing space. Together again.

And fighting side by side.

The End