Chapter Ten.
The hour had easily crept round to mid-morning again, by the time Buffy finally made her way down the stairs the next day. Another sleep in. Another sleep in that was nothing to do with actual sleeping, and everything to do with resolving long resided issues. The ceiling mapped and charted by her eyes all of the hours that she had lain lost in the thoughts which plagued her just as easily as any nightmare sent demon would have sought to plague her.
And her desire had felt quite demonic when she’d considered it in those terms. Practically a nightmare even with her eyes wide open. This concern, this word which began with the prefix of affect, wanted no part of the desire that had ridden up in Buffy when Faith had stood so naked before her. She didn’t want that memory of feeling, she didn’t want to go to the place that her memories had taken her to. It had just been so much easier when Faith was sleeping.
No fire. No spark. None of that thing that had raised her hackles in a thousand different ways. No barriers. No defences. No mixed signals.
Buffy had held Faith’s hand and called it friendship. She had spoken private truths to her and called it comfort. She had never once, not in all of those years, looked at Faith’s broken shell and called it desire. Something she could ignore when there was no-one left to call her on it, something she had been able to deny even as her maturity had taught her all of the words for all of her wants.
It was something that had her mind feeling edgy as she took the stairs down to the lobby. Determined not to even glance the way of the screen, determined to seclude herself in the easy emotions of genuine friendship. “Morning guys!”
Like fresh air itself as she skipped a little jaunt to join them at the sofas. Willow, Giles and Dawn. Just what the doctor ordered. If the doctor was all about ordering silence and awkward glances and sentiment that wasn‘t returned with the gusto of a great new day. Dawn was the only one to look up and meet her eyes with a welcome forthcoming, not seeming bothered by any of the tension that was seeping out around her.
“Okay Dawn, what’s up with those two? Did you poison the pastries?”
Buffy’s voice looking to spread the cheer, still seeking some of that medicine for her undercurrent of edginess. And she hoped that she had found it in the moment that Dawn had smiled, had rolled her eyes. Guessing that she hadn’t as they had dropped straight back down again.
“Nothing that easy. You‘re about to get interventioned.”
“I what?”
“Dawn! We never said that…”
Not even really paying attention to Willow. Fixing on her younger sister still; The way she had taken to biting her lip between her teeth, fussing at her fingernails. And Buffy could guess at how this one was gonna go. Giles would fuss and be overly protective, would argue she was not looking after herself properly. And Wills would back him up. Always the worrier… always concerned…
“Buffy?”
“I’m here.” Still smiling. A little confused - it wasn’t like she had been totally neglecting herself. Amused as well though. Willow’s resolve face causing her smile to rise ever higher.
“You have to understand, we’re just concerned about you…”
“Hey! I’m fine - look, all healed…” Turning on her spot, lifting her top to flash the slight scar that was fading with every hour, that was barely a reminder that another apocalypse had been thwarted quite so recently. “…with the new clothes as well, I’m feeling pretty much…”
“We’re concerned about Faith.”
Giles voice breaking through to resonate with the ominous, not allowing the illusion of everything being great to persevere. Breaking through the perky prose, bringing more of the confusion back to Buffy’s eyes.
“Faith?” Losing all of her longed for amusement. “What’s wrong with Faith?”
Because she hadn’t heard any more of the crazed rage filled screaming. Wasn’t aware that more problems had arisen since she had observed her so happy last night.
“No, not Faith. You.”
“I think I need coffee.”
She joined that thought with a need for possible illustrations. Diagrams which would divert her thought path to fly along the same lines as Willow.
“What Willow is trying to say, is that we’re concerned by the way you have chosen to focus all of your attention onto Faith. Now I understand Buffy, but…”
Buffy held up her hand. She doubted more than anything that he truly understood, but this to her was not even about that. Too soon since the last questioning of her focus, too soon since the last time she had stood solitary before them.
“Where’s Xander?” Her voice like ice as it froze the air around them. “Shouldn’t he be here for this? Interventions are never complete without everyone attacking at the same time…”
“We’re not attacking, this isn’t an attack.” Willow spread her hands expressively, compassionately. Beseeching Buffy to see the concern behind their statements. “Xander’s down below with Andrew, they wanted to take Faith’s breakfast…”
“Andrew? See, we are punishing her!”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s *wrong* with me?”
And there was no seeing concern behind statements, just reacting to the words which were chosen. All of this felt like an attack, and she didn’t even know why she was being attacked. Yes, she was focusing a lot of her time and thoughts into Faith - but what the hell else was she supposed to do? Leave her to rot? Turn her over to the appropriate authorities?
“Buffy, we’re just concerned that your view on dealing with Faith, may not be rooted very firmly in the facts. No matter what you want to believe…”
“I don’t *want* to believe anything…”
“Yes you do!” Buffy’s head snapped round as the volume raised from Willow. Surprise at the vitriolic voice shouting out so many old hurts before her. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything that she did to us. Faith killed a man, killed *two* men. She shot an arrow full of poison through the chest of your boyfriend, she held a knife to *my* throat, wrapped her hands around Xander’s…”
All those memories brought to the fore. The edginess that was running rings around her false feel of perky, slowly lifting. Not turning as the door had opened in front, not caring that the happy band of sorority slayers were back from whatever morning jaunt Giles had sent them on. Just soaking up the attack. All of the wounds from the past.
“…she was with the Mayor, Buffy. She would’ve happily killed all of us.” Stood still and unflinching. Waiting for the rest that she knew was definitely coming. “And the best part, the part you seem to have tuned out on the most..? She *enjoyed* it. Faith’s crazy, and the sooner you get your head around that, the better for all of us.”
“What about better for Faith?”
“See!?”
They were stood squaring off. Never a thought of the physical, but so much wanting to unleash verbally. It flowed between them like waves of tension, reaching out, unfolding, tightening around everyone who bore witness, like a noose around their necks.
“What’s going on?”
“Kennedy, this doesn’t concern you or the girls. I suggest you go…”
“No. If Buffy is gonna be tearing strips off my girlfriend, I wanna know why.” Her shoulders firm. Her stance unwavering. “Not moving till I do.”
“Me? You think this is me tearing strips?”
“Willow?”
Kennedy watched and waited as her feistier than she had realised girlfriend, blew out the rage that had seemed to so easily reach out and encompass her. Sad sighing at Buffy, a shake of the head which only looked patronising. “Buffy - in her infinite compassion for psychopaths - decided to let Faith out of the cage yesterday. And not only out, hey Buff? More like a little buddy bonding upstairs in the shower..?”
Such sarcasm, such insinuation. So easy to remember past jealousies, times gone by when every minute that Buffy spent with Faith, was another minute not spent with her. Forget old faithful. Just focus on Faith.
“Huh? You let her out for a shower?”
Kennedy not privy to old jealousies, to dynamics which would have only confused if she had been there and seen it all. She had disbelief at the shower for different reasons.
“Yes Kennedy, and ya know what? You have a problem with that…”
“Yo, hold up, there’s no problem here. I’m just surprised - I had you pegged as unfeeling, this is refreshing.”
“Oh, right. Thanks?”
“Kennedy..?”
“Sorry Willow, but I’ve told you how I feel about this.”
Her tone wasn’t combative, it wasn’t looking to fuel the fight; Kennedy was simply stating the truth as she felt it. “You’re not going to solve anything by keeping her locked up. You’d be better off letting her out and dealing with the consequences. You know that we can take her, *we* know that we can take her…” Late night patrol littered with varying ideas on Faith. The slayer that had shared her power so unknowingly. “…if you give her a chance, I don’t know, maybe she’ll surprise you?”
“With a knife to the neck? A stab to the back? I’m not so keen on those surprises.”
“Willow…”
“No Giles! You agreed with me! Buffy shouldn’t have let Faith out without all of us knowing, being prepared.” Willow felt her shoulders slump as the fight went out of her. Realising that this battle was already feeling like lost. A last ditch effort. A last turn to her girlfriend to seek an ally. “Why are you being like this?”
“Like this? *You* made me like this, you made me like her. This is Faith’s power that you shared amongst us all… slayer power. I can’t just damn her Willow, I don’t even know her.”
“Yeah? Lucky you.”
“Right, well, I don’t see how any of this covers yesterday’s little excursion. I may not be as vehement in my approach Buffy, but you have to accept that letting Faith out, without any form of back up in case…”
“No Giles. I’m not doing this. You wanna relieve me of the leadership badge again..? Go right ahead. If you come up with a better idea on how to help her, I’ll be up in my room. If things blow up in your face again…”
“That’s hardly fair Buffy.”
“This is hardly fair! You all scurry off and leave me to deal, and then you don’t like the way I’m dealing?”
Breathe deep. Re-craft the granite.
“I’m doing my best Giles. If that’s not good enough - my bad. At least I’m trying. At least I’ve made the effort to visit, at least I’m giving her the chance.”
Project the compassion.
“I don’t really see that my visiting would make a difference.”
“So you don’t even try? You were her watcher! She was your slayer! Come on Giles, what would the council do? Where’s all that wealth of experience now that we need it? You said there were ways to rehabilitate…” Make him see how little he had done to help. Cooing about her injuries, offering soft eyes when everything she was going through was just so hard. “…help me Giles, tell me what I should do?”
Rendering him silent. Yes, there were ways, council ways. Ways which had blown up along with the rest of the legacy. He had offered little, because he was not sure what to offer. Had known how little good he had done before.
“I’m sorry Buffy, but I don’t know.”
Just as she had expected.
She cast her eyes across the group that were now gathered in varying degrees of shock around her. The new slayers with grudging respect; their stone cold leader now humanised before them, surviving a run through with a sword, but wavering in the face of human emotion. It comforted them. Relieved that they would not be turning to the stone they had thought she was cast from. Dawn; eyes downcast. Wishing she was well away from the epicentre of the mini Buffy earthquake. Giles; forlorn in his failure. And Willow;
Buffy could not see the answers expressed on her face, in the deep green of her eyes. She could see the taint of tears though, the sparkle that heightened the sadness at the turn of events. The beginning of a train wreck. The onset of tears.
Tears to Buffy were a wasted notion. A thought she sighed on as she turned to go up the stairs. Something she would not cry on as she returned her focus to Faith.
The almost silent tap that sounded against her door, allowed her to guess exactly who was standing there awaiting entry. Seven years of friendship good enough to give her sixth sensing abilities, knowing that Willow would come to seek safe ground. To direct them back to a place where brief blow ups would never really matter.
“Come in.”
Her voice already softening as she silently practiced her own sound of sorry.
“Hey Buffy. I bring ice cream.” A smile alighting as the tub was indeed produced before her eyes. “You wanna share?”
“Yeah.”
Finding firm footing already. Relaxing as space had been made on the bed, as Willow had gathered her skirt around her and found a place to sit. “I’m sorry about downstairs Buff, I never meant for it to go quite as…”
Holding up a hand, holding back apologies. “It’s forgotten already. We’re all a little battle weary still, minds are frayed, tempers are frayier.”
“Definite agreement. Especially the frayier bit.”
Just taking a spoon and delivering a spoonful. Gasping at the cold, delighting at the taste. Wishing it really was this easy to placate a battling of Wills. “Apart from the shouty bit, I meant what I said downstairs; I’m dealing with Faith my way, the only way I know how. She screws up and I’m gonna ride her ass, until then it’s all about second chances.”
And the ice cream wasn’t the only source of cold in the room. Willow’s hand freezing in mid air, not delivering anything, just sat silently awaiting more words she knew she would wish to refute.
“Don’t you ever wonder what might have happened if she had woken up sooner. If the coma hadn’t lasted so damn long..? Faith hasn’t had the time to grow up, to mature, to stand back and take stock… don’t we owe her a shot at that?”
“We don’t owe her anything. *You* don’t owe her anything.”
“Doesn’t she *deserve* the chance?”
“Why? Because she’s a slayer? Because you all share some mystical bond that none of us normal folk will ever get the flush of feeling?” Willow couldn’t stop the sarcastic slant again. Her ears bombarded by her girlfriend’s sharing of the bond, her tether close to snapping as she was edged outside the caring sharing circle once again. “That doesn’t cut it with me Buff, I’m not sharing the bonding. Faith is still Faith, and she’s still a cold blooded killer.”
“What type are you Wills?”
Everything freezing.
“No way… that’s nothing like this! Don’t even bring that into it.”
“Why not? You skipped sides just as quick as Faith did, had a bloodlust just as thirsty as hers was.”
Tears still wasted. A notion lost beneath words.
“We forgive you because you’re Willow, and we condemn her because she’s Faith. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No!” And Willow didn’t have a broomstick, or a pointy hat and cat, but she still held her own power. Something which brimmed and boiled in her veins when attacked, that pushed her mind to touch places she would never normally embrace. “*I* had reasons Buffy, do you remember them? Do you remember what he did to Tara?!”
The feeling thrusting at her senses; the sight, the sounds, the smell, the taste. The weight that had died in her arms. Tears never enough to capture the pain that wouldn’t fade away, would never disappear behind the illusion of days and months and just over a year.
“God Buffy, he ripped my heart from my body, he took away the love of my life… I know how wrong I was, I know I’ll never be free of that… but at least I had reasons.”
Lures and pushes.
Reasons.
Stories which started with hearts ripped from bodies, and the loss of love. Which ended with the loss of life.
The similarity hung before them without either finding a voice. Both holding such power, yet neither brave enough to take a step over that final barrier. Connecting the dots to see the full picture. Understanding all that needed to be understood. Speaking the reasons. Making it real.
They stood in silence.
“I’m not saying that Faith doesn’t deserve a second chance, I’m asking why you have to serve it up to her on a silver platter Buffy. Why you’re letting her play the helpless victim, while we all get to play the monsters. I never hurt Faith, I never held a knife to her neck. Why am I the bad one?”
And seven years of friendship had taught Buffy when tears were the kind not to be ignored. Laying down her own rhyme and reasoning, to hold tight to a woman she had witnessed losing everything. She wouldn’t hold that pain against her, she had never been able to.
“I’m sorry Wills, I shouldn’t have brought that up. You’re right, this is nothing like that…”
“I would never have done what I did if Tara… if he hadn’t…”
“Shhh. I know.” Her arms finding a hug, releasing a feeling. “I’m sorry.”
Shushing the words that had been ready to burst forth. Hard words. Unflinching words. Dismissing excuses, no matter how heartfelt, to focus on the facts. The slayer could still remember the dark eyes of Willow, the strength that had ridiculed her own in the magic shop; the threat to her family, the threat to her friends, the threat to the world.
The friend allowed the quiet to offer forgiveness.
But no similarities?
Even Buffy wasn’t that blonde.
It had shocked her when the next knock had come at her door. Not expecting Giles to have finished cleaning his glasses yet, not expecting that he would come to offer apology. But then Buffy did not know his own depth of feeling for her, how much he had been hurting over the downslide in their relationship. Questioning her authority, not once, but twice over the last couple of weeks. Sending her off to find comfort from a dead man, when he should have been the one holding her up and making her strong.
He still felt the urge to take her by the hand. To protect her from everything that he knew would hurt her. He had tried to harden himself, harden her in the face of a battle he was terrified they would lose. Terrified that he would lose her. Giles wanted to shake himself by his good old English britches when he counted all the different ways he had pushed her away.
“Buffy, may I come in?”
“Are you still intervening?”
“No,” His tone conciliatory as he entered her room. “I realise how that must have felt to you, but I assure you I have nothing but confidence in your ability to eventually reach Faith.”
“Eventually? It’s not much of a confidence vote is it?”
Buffy raised herself up from the bed to stand before him, ready for more battle, ready to stand down if it looked like she had pushed too far. She had already picked out stories of death to regale Giles’ ears with, tales of the Ripper, memories of Ben. She had already prepared herself to meet another brick wall. Another derailment.
More excuses for why murder wasn’t murder when it wasn’t Faith doing the murdering.
“On the contrary, it’s a rather large vote. I want to help you Buffy, I want to help Faith. If there’s a way that you think I might be of use…”
“You mean it?”
“Absolutely. As a watcher, I take it as my duty to offer what ever assistance you need.”
And he could hide behind his council walls, and officious tone, but there were another seven years that had been well spent by Buffy. Learning to love the man in front of her for the care and affection which often clouded his view. That caused his glasses to smear. She may not have still needed him to lead her, to teach her; but she still needed his love more than anything. His guidance readily accepted when it wasn’t meant as instruction.
“Thank you.”
Her hand reaching out to be dwarfed in his, so grateful inside that he had chosen to stand beside her. “I don’t know what good it’ll do, but maybe you can connect with the slayer side of things… get her mind back on the duty, on what our calling stands for…”
“Do you really think that it will make a difference?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then why?”
Not sure if she could explain it. The idea that grew and shaped with every minute spent thinking over the time lost, over the time she had had to mature and to grow. “I know she won’t listen now, I know what she wants now… but things change Giles. Maybe one day it *will* make a difference.”
“Then it’s certainly worth making the effort.”
Giles smiled and steadied his gaze, swallowed down any mention of approaching Faith himself. Alone. He had agreed with Willow earlier, he did believe that Buffy had been irresponsible in her releasing of Faith without back up; but he did not believe as much in a lack of second chances. He would much rather meet Faith without the igniting fuel of Buffy, but this was not the time to be making suggestions. This was the time to be standing at Buffy’s side.
Down below, in the depths of the building, the one who had caused all of the turmoil had no clue that turmoil even existed. In her world it didn’t. A world where two geeks had brought her breakfast and an endless supply of nerd filled topics to keep her mind amused. Not caring a fuck when she had alerted herself to Buffy’s steady approach, to the sound of her footsteps, the small tinkle of laughter that had breezed in right before the girl herself. She forgot about demons when she thought about superheroes.
As for the one who had rode the storm of the turmoil, she had also lost herself in the sudden thought of superheroes. Seeing again the comics strewn across the floor, the easy pose struck by Faith. The fun filled faces that glanced up to greet her.
“Ah, Buffster! Do I sense another member for LA’s newest and most exclusive comic club?”
And glancing right by them. She wanted this moment, had denied herself this moment. Engaging the Faith that she so often imagined.
“You’re in a comic club?”
Her eyebrows arching up high on her head, amusement coating the smile which trickled across her lips.
“You know what prison’s like B, ya think you’re safe as a kitten, then you fall in with a bad crowd. I tried to resist, really I did.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
Batman flying through the air to land in her grasp. Tossed through the bars. Caught with ease. “Xander tempted me with the hard stuff.”
It turned Buffy’s eyebrows the way of another long held friendship. Sliding into a flash of a frown, just for a second, just as she had placed the pieces together until they all fit. “You brought the comics?”
“Yep! Nothing like good old Marvel goodness to perk up the pri…” He went to say prisoner. Changed at the last. “…prisms… uh, prisms of power.”
Earning him looks. Four of them. Buffy’s voice the one to do the asking. “Prisms of power?”
“Right. That’s how I see you slayers; all tall and powerful and prismy, very much like prisms.”
“I think you mean prismatic, that would be the correct…”
“Actually Giles, I think he meant prisoner.” Faith let her smile curve round her lips, let the sanctuary of superheroes fly off into the night as she rose to greet the watcher. The one who had overlooked her downfall. Made it so much easier for her to flounder so pointlessly beneath Buffy. “Long time no see.”
Though it still felt like days.
She had caught up on more of the missing while hanging so innocently with her new best buddies. The geek brigade coming to her rescue, and providing her with answers. Andrew was especially good for running his mouth off, his tongue tripping across words that Xander had kept seeking to censor. She had caught the basics though. Learnt more than enough for one day. Was content to play the happy hostage and show the signs of steady reform.
No one had ever slain Faith’s demons. She didn’t believe in superheroes in this world.
A mantra that made her dimples etch out easiness as she stepped a pace closer to the bars. Show them what they need to see. Silently prepare the rest.
“Yes Faith. I’m sorry I haven’t been down to see you before now, things are still hectic…”
“Yeah, I caught that. Team Andrew filled me in on the spell to go slay crazy. Seems like I owe Red a thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.”
And her silence had no understanding yet for the awkwardness that filled that moment in front of her. The quick glance between the watcher and his *real* slayer. That number one golden girl. Just itching to find a fall.
She still stored it away though. Built new memories to refer back to in the darkness of the night time. Something to chase away the blood, sweat and tears that she didn’t care to think about.
Just practising relaxed as Giles had suggested to the comedy duo that they go and fetch something to eat, that lunch had long passed and Faith was no doubt hungry. Practising the deep breaths as he had turned to face her again.
And all of those years had passed and he still hadn’t learnt to hide the look? The disappointment that sat obvious whenever both slayers were in the same room, and his gaze was forced to rest on the darker of the two. Thrift shop silver when compared to the pure carat gold of Buffy. Truly relaxing as she made herself recognise more of the same old shit.
The comics were left on the floor. Her demons were back in the drivers seat.
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