This Is How It Goes

"Faith?" Buffy asked tightly. "Is that — is it you?"

Faith frowned, furrowed her brow. She tried to sit up, but stopped as she felt the chains behind her back. "What?" she asked confusedly. "I don't — where are we?"

"You don't remember anything?" Buffy asked uncertainly.

"Remember what?" Faith responded, a tinge of sharpness to her voice. She managed to sit up fully, her hands still bound. "B, what the fuck is -"

Faith stopped talking abruptly, her mouth open, her eyes widening. Buffy saw a myriad of emotions flicker across her face as Faith's body went almost completely rigid. She was staring at a point beyond Buffy but her eyes were saturated with memory, witnessing something painful and internal. She's remembering, Buffy thought desperately.

There were several moments of blank staring before Faith shut her eyes tightly, her face contorting in naked horror. She began twisting her body around, moving her arms violently and trying to force the chains off.

"Jesus," she croaked. "Get — get these fucking things off me."

Buffy approached her, taking the key out and moving behind Faith to release her arms. Faith shook the chains off ferociously as soon as they were open and scrambled up, her eyes roaming wildly. They stopped as she looked down at her shaking hands with an agonized, lost expression.

Buffy slowly walked around to the front, watching Faith's face as it contorted, as she was submersed again in painful recollection. Buffy reached out her arm, tentatively touching Faith's shoulder. The other Slayer jerked violently, almost involuntarily.

"Don't — don't touch me," Faith snarled brokenly. Her eyes, glittering and sharp, slid over Buffy's face, refusing to meet her gaze. "What did I do?" she asked raggedly, quietly enough that only Buffy could hear.

"Faith, you didn't do anything," Buffy said, her voice shaky. She kept her distance. "It wasn't you. It was some demon, screwing with our minds. It's over now," she said plaintively. "Faith, it's over now, okay?"

Faith shook her head, looking down at her body. She brought her hand up, ran it over her face, her chest. "It's not over," she said, her voice jagged and uneven, her head jerking. "I — I can feel it. It's still inside me."

Buffy moved forward instinctively, seeing Faith's pain etched on her face, reaching her hand out again. She had barely touched Faith's arm before the other Slayer hit her hand away, backing up.

"Stay the fuck away from me, B," Faith growled. She looked at Buffy directly for the first time and the depth of emotion in her face, flashes of panicked desolation, disgust, shame, sent an agonizing ache through Buffy's body. "Just — just stay away from me," Faith continued in an uneven, softer voice, averting her eyes again.

Buffy stood there, breathing shallowly and feeling helpless, frustrated tears rise up, and didn't know what to do, what to say to make everything right again. If things can be right again, she thought unwillingly, and swallowed.

"Well, now, I'd call that a complete success." The Mayor's incongruously cheerful voice cut into Buffy's consciousness, and she remembered where they were. "Now, I've got a meeting with my demon PR official in about," he checked his watch, "15 minutes, so how about we wrap things up?"

Buffy stayed looking at Faith's gently shaking form, her head and body turned away, for several more moments before inhaling deeply and gritting her teeth. She noticed Willow a couple of feet away, watching the events unfolding with an anxious, relieved expression. Giles and Angel were standing close, their eyes gentle and concerned. Buffy nodded at them, and picked up the box, walking over to where Xander was standing, holding tightly onto his crossbow. Buffy stepped forward, handing off the box to one of the Mayor's vampires and keeping her face smooth.

"Fantastic," the Mayor said, clapping his hands together. "And everyone gets a happy ending. Ladies," he inclined his head towards Buffy and Faith, "it's been a pleasure. I'll be seeing you soon." He gestured to his employees and they turned and walked away, leaving Buffy watching their retreating figures and feeling lost.

She slowly turned around, eyes sliding over to Faith and saw the other Slayer's shoulders trembling. This was supposed to be the solution. Faith had come back to her, had pushed out that demonic force. Everything was supposed to go back to normal now. Except Buffy's throat was thick with repressed tears, and that sharp twisting in her chest made her think that there might not be a "normal" now. She could see Faith slipping away, even as they were both standing there.

Buffy walked over to her slowly, tentatively, making no sudden movements.

"Faith," she said softly. "Please don't shut me out right now."

Faith was staring at the ground. Buffy could barely make out the change in Faith's expression, a grim decisiveness replacing most of the naked pain on her face, and the resignation in it scared Buffy. "Stay away from me, B," Faith said, her voice carefully even.

"No," Buffy responded shortly.

"It wasn't a question," Faith spat out. She turned around, slightly, her eyes resting somewhere near Buffy's left shoulder. Her entire body was taut and coiled, seconds away from running.

"You don't have to do this. We can deal together," Buffy said plaintively, trying to keep her voice soft and reassuring.

"No, B, I can deal," Faith snarled. Still avoiding the other Slayer's eyes, Faith spun around and began striding away. Buffy felt a spike of panicked adrenaline and reached out before she could think about it, grasping Faith's wrist. She could feel the tense energy humming under Faith's skin, could feel the brunette's pulse fluttering underneath her fingertips.

Faith recoiled from her violently, trying to wrench her arm away, and Buffy tightened her grip in response. They stopped moving, locked in a motionless fight, before Faith turned her head slightly. "Let go of me, Buffy," she growled. Buffy didn't move.

Faith whipped her head around, her face illuminated by the street lights in a sickly, yellow light. Buffy saw the rigid lines in her expression, the way her mouth was trembling. Then she saw Faith break down. Her face collapsed, naked confusion and self-loathing replacing whatever anger she was experiencing. Buffy felt a breathless sob rising in her throat and pushed it down.

"Please," Faith whispered, so quietly that Buffy almost didn't hear it.

Buffy let her hand slide off, fingers trailing across Faith's palm. She watched as the other girl turned and began moving swiftly away, and stood there, her arms now hanging limply by her side.

"Buffy," a voice said softly behind her.

Buffy turned around after Faith's form was swallowed up by the darkness, after she inhaled and tried to control the overwhelming wave of helplessness rushing through her. Angel was standing the closest, holding out his hand. She put her hand in his and he grasped it tightly.

Chapter 28: Complications

Author's Notes:

"I don't know what to do," Buffy whispered despondently. She was sitting on Angel's couch, her elbows on her thighs, her face in her hands. "I haven't seen her in four days. I — I don't even know if she's okay."

It was difficult to believe that life had just continued on while Buffy's world was collapsing. She had been in school the past several days, resisting the urge to laugh in the middle of French class at the triviality of it all. How could her classmates walk, talk, and laugh as if life was normal? As if the most important person to her was gone, alone in her anguish or fucking or drinking herself into a coma? Willow and Xander were worried about her, shooting furtive glances at her during class, but her mind was saturated entirely with Faith.

Angel stood behind her, looking into the gently smoldering fireplace, one hand resting on the mantelpiece.

"Why can't she talk to me? Doesn't she understand — I know it wasn't her," Buffy continued earnestly, taking her hands away and twisting slightly to see Angel's profile. "I know that's not who she is."

Angel stayed silent for several moments, apparently engrossed by the fire. "She needs time," he said shortly.

Buffy sighed wearily, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I'm getting that."

"Buffy," Angel began, lifting his head to look at her. "You can't understand what she's going through right now."

Buffy raised an eyebrow aggressively, feeling a surge of irrational anger. "And, of course, you do," she said harshly.

There was a moment of tense silence where Angel turned his attention to the fire again and Buffy kind of felt like an asshole. "I know what it's like to discover a darkness inside you," Angel said quietly. "I know how it feels, not being able to draw a line between you and it. Not knowing if you're even separated."

Buffy stared at him. "But — but there is separation," she finally said, verging onto hysterical territory. "There's Faith and there's that other Azaria guy, and they're very much separated."

"Maybe they're physically separated now. But, for a moment, they were the same person. That won't ever change."

Buffy's mind was being drawn, inexorably, to that time. Seeing Faith like that, seeing her swallowed up by self-destructive lust and violence. A thought, completely unwelcome and yet repetitive, sprung into her head. How much of that was solely the demon?

"But nothing even really happened," Buffy protested, grasping at the thin silver lining and ignoring the unpleasant path her brain was taking. "I mean, we beat each other up, but that's like a daily occurrence even without demonic possession."

"It's not about what actually happened or not, Buffy," Angel said, shaking his head and looking pained. "It's about what could have happened. It's about the potential damage. And it's about how it felt." His brow furrowed, his mouth tightening. "I still remember how it feels to break someone's neck. The rush, the exhilaration. You — you have no idea — the purity of that, of feeling no remorse."

"She didn't break anyone's neck," Buffy snapped, confused and utterly frustrated. She realized she was standing up, glaring at him.

"She wanted to."

Buffy stopped. Her breathing was shallow, a strange skittering restlessness across her skin. An image of Faith, predatory and feral, crushing her wrist and laughing, flashed across her mind. Buffy clenched her teeth.

"It wasn't her," she said quietly, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself as well as Angel. "Faith didn't want that."

"She killed a human being before. She's tasted it," Angel said quietly.

Buffy was across the room before she even registered she wanted to move. "You — don't say things like that!" she said furiously. "You know nothing about that."

Angel looked warily at her, calm even in the face of Buffy's rage. A deep, black, inexplicable fury was rising in her chest.

"You think I don't understand, Angel? You think I can't possibly conceive of what it's like to have some darkness?" she yelled at him, her hands shaking. "I'm an 18-year old high school girl who goes out hunting in a cemetery every night! I don't go shopping for lipstick and make-up — I go shopping for garroting wire!" Buffy was almost bellowing now, her eyes vivid and flashing. "I kill things every day and — and I enjoy doing it! Me and Faith, we search it out. And it fucking terrifies me, Angel!" Her voice was turning desperate, panicked. "It terrifies me when we hunt, when I push it down and she gives into it. When I see her laugh at it." Buffy's voice trailed off as she swallowed the rising sob in her throat. "I can't lose her to that."

Angel stepped in and grasped her shoulders, peering at her. "Do you trust her?"

Buffy looked up at him with bright, wavering eyes. "With my life."

Angel jerked his head impatiently. "That's not what I meant." He frowned. "Do you trust her not to go too far?"

Buffy stared at him, her mind whirling. She stepped back, ran a hand through her hair distractedly. "I — I'm not going to pretend that I know Faith, because that girl has more layers than a 14-tier wedding cake. But ... but I know she likes things black and white. She likes it simple. And when something like this happens, something that forces her to choose a side, I ..." she hesitated, feeling her chest tighten, "sometimes, I don't know which way she'll tip."

Buffy stood after her speech, hands hanging limply at her side, looking firmly at the floor. Her words were reverberating through her. Hot and furious shame was coursing through her at her own admission. And, yet ... it was true. She felt a fleeting sensation of relief, of a leaden weight being removed from her shoulders, and then a bone-deep weariness descended.

It was time to stop pretending. It was time to stop trying to make everything okay, when it wasn't. Something, maybe irrevocably, had changed with Azazel. Faith knew it, Buffy knew it, Angel, with his fathoms of experience that no one should ever experience, knew it. They needed time to deal with it. You were thinkin' that I've never played nice, Faith's voice said, bouncing around in Buffy's head like a maniacal pinball. Even when you're trying to pretend that this isn't me, that I would never say those mean, hurtful things, some part of you wonders, doesn't it? And Buffy could respond now, yeah, I do wonder. It wasn't in Faith's nature to play it safe. She would flirt with that potential because that's how she lived.

"Buffy," Angel said quietly, watching her intently. "You can't move on with her if you feel that way. Without that trust ..." he trailed off.

"But, I love her so much," Buffy said quietly, desperately. Angel flicked his eyes away, and Buffy thought she caught a glimpse of his pain at her words. "Can't that be enough?"

"I — I don't think so," he responded softly. "It never is," he added, so quietly that Buffy almost didn't hear it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling another current of shame run through her at her own obliviousness. Sometimes, when everything in her was focused on Faith, she almost forgot who Angel was to her, their history. Almost. "I — I really shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"No. It's okay," Angel said quietly, turning his head back. He took a deep, unnecessary breath.

Buffy searched his face for a second and then glanced out of the mansion window. "It's getting dark," she said. "I should be getting home."

"I'll walk you," Angel said softly.

They walked on the sidewalk in a slightly tense silence. The sun had just disappeared over the horizon and the air was getting cooler. Buffy shivered and hugged herself, glancing over at Angel discreetly as he strode alongside her, his face frustratingly smooth. Sometimes she couldn't read him. Sometimes she didn't even know how deep the emotions he was feeling went. But she could understand that, to a point. He could exist, before Angelus was released, before hell, as a relatively normal person. Guilt-ridden, yes, prone to lurking, yes, but able to relish, to embrace emotions. His entire existence now was based on restraint. He knew the consequences of feeling those extremes, of losing himself to love and rage. There were times where Buffy could see him visibly hold back. So unlike Faith, who could never keep anything in for long. Who wore her heart on her leather pants.