This Is How It Goes

This Is How It Goes

Chapter 1: Subconscious Hijacking

Author's Notes: I've been working on this story for a long time. It is, for all intents and purposes, my child. A child that grew far too much far too rapidly, much like Hagrid's Norwegian Ridgeback (for all you Harry Potter fans). It's a long, complex, emotional rollercoaster. It follows Season 3 to an extent, but many events have been altered, removed, postponed, added, elaborately fucked with, set on fire, etc., to suit my own nefarious purposes. Anyway, I'd like to see if there's enough interest for me to keep posting. As with many new authors, I am a shameless feedback whore, so if you like it and want to read more, let it be known. Oh, and the fic title is from an Aimee Mann song.

Giles took the familiar handkerchief from his pocket and began cleaning his glasses. "Buffy." He sighed softly, tiredly. "I'm disappointed in you."

He put his glasses back on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose, and peered at his Slayer.

"Any amateur businessman would see the niche for office supplies Nevada is offering us. For God's sake, woman, Staples just went out of business!" He began gesticulating wildly.

"Giles, I know!" Buffy said, exasperated. "All I'm saying is that we should look at llama farming. Did you know the profit margin on those babies? Have you seen my clipboard?"

She gestured with the object in her hand.

Giles' expression transformed as he glanced at her hands. He looked terrified. Buffy stopped moving and felt an inexplicable rush of fear. She slowly looked down at the object her hands were tightening around. It was a sword.

She snapped her head up, wildly searching for reassurance, and saw that the scenery had changed. She was in the clean, grey sterility of Angel's mansion. Acathla was grinning at her sickly. Buffy glanced down at her hands, saw deep red blood, saw her sword running through black fabric and buttons.

"No, no, no ..." she whispered desperately. "This — no, this can't be happening again."

"Buffy." He said her name with such confusion, such innocence.

"Angel ... I didn't mean ..."

His face changed as quickly as Giles' had. It was suddenly sardonic, mocking, contemptuous.

"What, it wasn't enough for you to take my soul? You had to send me to a hell dimension for eternity? Overreacting a little, aren't you, lover?" He grasped the sword running through his chest and yanked it out, grimacing.

"Please, Buff, let me return the favor." He grinned widely and suddenly slashed it through the air towards Buffy's neck.

"No!" she cried out and shut her eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable blow.

It didn't come. Buffy stood with her hands clenched at her sides, trembling. She opened her eyes slowly.

Angel and Acathla were gone. She was still in the mansion, but the shadows were longer and darker, the air colder. She shivered. The walls around her had deep claw marks and violent gouges covering them. Buffy looked closer and saw that they flickered, rippled like the surface of a pond.

"Are you from the IRS?" a voice asked.

Buffy turned her head around and saw a girl standing in front of one of the walls. Long, dark brown hair, about her age, slightly taller, slim. An abundance of leather and dark make-up. Seriously pretty, in a hazardous-to-your-health kind of way. Huge, deep brown eyes, full mouth, face and body composed of elegant, tight lines.

There was an air of coiled energy around the girl. Not fidgety energy, but the type of body language that said, "Look at me wrong and I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be licking my boot." And ... the way she was holding herself, how her weight was balanced on her feet, it felt bizarrely familiar to Buffy. She could see an offensiveness to her stance that other people wouldn't have been able to pick up, could see a solid strength under her clothes. The girl had her arms crossed in front of her chest and was glaring at Buffy suspiciously.

"You better believe I'm not gonna cough up 800 bucks just `cause you bastards thought me special enough to send an agent." The girl leaned to the side, cocked her head. "Even if this one does have a nice ass."

Buffy twisted around, trying to see her ass, and realized she was wearing a bright yellow, not particularly form-fitting raincoat.

"What? You can't even see my ass!" she said, disturbed.

"I got a good imagination." The girl smirked at her arrogantly.

Buffy narrowed her eyes and frowned. "You — you're an actual person, aren't you? That seems — well, it seems kind of ridiculous, but I don't think I would imagine anyone as annoying as you into my dreams voluntarily."

The girl looked at her, re-evaluating. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Who am I? Look, Ms. Too-Cool-To-Pay-Your-Taxes, you're the one who hijacked my subconscious. I'm pretty sure that puts you in the `owing me' column," Buffy said, pointing at the other girl indignantly.

She snorted. "Whatever, blondie. Before this shithole of a fantasy, me and Johnny Depp were just about to get real comfortable." She paused, smirking. "Well, as comfortable as you can get on a bathroom floor." She frowned slightly. "Wearing a fireman suit."

Buffy blinked. "Well, that sounds about 240 times more pleasant than what I was dreaming. Although, I have heard llamas can lower cholesterol."

The girl, ignoring the absurdity of Buffy's statement, glanced around the mansion, her expression growing wary. "Where the hell are we?"

Buffy raised her hand guiltily. "That would be from my head, actually. This is a place I kinda used to visit a lot."

"On purpose? `Cause I've been to sunnier funeral homes," she said, arching an eyebrow snarkily.

"Hey, let's not focus on the badness of this experience. I mean, look, the walls are, uh, pretty," Buffy said lamely.

"The walls are fucking terrifying," the girl said flatly. "And, I'm not a dream expert, but when strangers show up in each other's heads, it gives me the feeling that somethin's majorly off."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "Yeah, that's a pretty reasonable statement." She looked down at her outfit. "And why am I wearing this? We're inside, so logical progression equals no rain."

"It's always raining." The other girl suddenly sounded serious. Her entire demeanor had changed. Her fists were clenched tightly by her sides, her eyes bright and cold. A clap of thunder echoed loudly and Buffy looked up anxiously. The ceiling that used to be there was gone, and the sky above was a pure, unadulterated black.

"Easier to wash away the blood," the girl said, except it sounded as if two people were speaking.

Buffy felt a chill. "Whose blood?"

"Yours, mine, vamps, don't really matter." She stared at Buffy unblinkingly.

Buffy belatedly registered what she had just said. "Vamps? You know about vampires? And these are literal vampires, right, not metaphorical money-sucking-vampires `cause those just aren't as -"

Buffy's eyes snapped open. She was sitting bolt upright in bed, her hands clutching the twisted, damp sheets. Her eyes ran frantically around the room, landing on familiar objects, and she inhaled shakily.

"What. The. Hell." She groaned loudly and put her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes. "Why can't anything I experience be normal? Leonardo Dicaprio, you've disappointed me again."

Buffy heard her mom yelling something about breakfast downstairs. She sighed and pouted.

"This is just going to be the best day ever."

~ — ~ — ~

It wasn't the best day ever. Days with high school in them rarely were, Buffy thought morosely. She moved through class distantly, only dimly perceiving her surroundings. She kept thinking of Angel's mocking face as he pulled the sword out, of the girl's bright, vivid eyes as she talked about blood. Everything seemed to reach her through a haze, everything paling in comparison to her dream.

Last night had caused so many of the emotions she had been furiously suppressing to resurface. L.A. had been her attempt at monotonous normalcy, at escaping her identity and history and melting into the mass of humanity. It hadn't worked.

Since she'd been back, she had been actively trying not to think about Angel, because when she did, it felt as if her lungs stopped working, as if a vise had been clamped on her gut. So much pain, guilt, and this intangible but pervasive sense of "what if?" What if Willow's spell had worked only minutes before? What if there was some other way to stop Acathla? Of course, actively trying not to think about something generally had the opposite effect, but she was managing. Piling her days full of slaying, schoolwork, and the comforting presence of her friends. The dream had shot all of that to hell. Where Angel was, she thought, and her stomach clenched.

And then that girl. Was she really an actual person, a stranger somehow invading Buffy's dreams? That made no sense. Except there was something about her, something in her energy that was familiar. Buffy had felt ... strange around her.

"Are you going Bronzing tonight, Buffy? Dingoes are playing, and Oz has his black hair `cause he wants to be all edgy," Willow said happily as they were walking down one of the halls.

Buffy realized a second later that she was being talked to and blinked, trying to shake the images out her head. "What? Oh — uh, yeah."

"Are you okay? `Cause you seem a bit ... elsewhere." Willow peered into her eyes, concerned.

"No, I'm okay. I just didn't sleep so well last night. Weird dreams," Buffy said evasively. Dark red coating her hands, dripping off the sword.

"Weird as in `why is that purple shrub talking to me,' or weird as in Slayer stuff?" Willow asked, brow furrowed.

"Both, actually. Or, neither." Buffy sighed. "I have no idea, Wil."

"Well, both of us know who to go to when your subconscious gets all paranormal," Willow said, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, yeah. You don't think he'll be all stuffy and British and say things like, `I cannot hope to unravel what goes on in your brain'?" Buffy said, inserting a horrendous British accent.

"If your dreams are of the talking purple shrub variety, then, no, I can't guarantee he won't go all `God save the queen.' But, if there's something else, then book-consulting is in order."

"Yeah. I'll go talk to him after classes," Buffy said. "He'll enjoy having an excuse to do new research. What a shameless dork."

"Well, yes. We dorks are a proud race of people. Who needs shame when you have tweed and ridicule?" Willow asked cheerfully.

"And if that's not a self-assured motto, I don't know what is," Buffy said, grinning.

"So, verdict for Bronzage tonight?" Xander asked, sidling up to them.

"We go, we drink, we be merry. We -" Willow started.

"Try to forget about the fact that my life sucks and I can't even relax while dreaming?" Buffy complained.

"Yup. Although, less with the life sucking and more with the dancing until you cannot dance any more. Did I tell you Oz has his black hair?"

~ — ~ — ~

After Giles' surprise, intrigue, and eagerness to research (in that order), as well as constant reassurances that his books would be able to provide all answers, Buffy tried to push all her dream baggage to the back of her mind. She was going to the Bronze with her friends, and she was going to enjoy herself without all the morbid freakiness that seemed to inevitably find her.

She found Willow and Xander at one of the center tables, one of whom was staring adoringly at the stage as the Dingoes played a number. Oz, who was indeed sporting his black hair, looked at Willow frequently with a soft smile that made Buffy insanely jealous of all of the couples in the world.

"Hey, Buff. How goes it in the rocky landscape of Buffonia?" Xander said, holding out a plastic cup for her. His eyes kept focusing on something on the dance floor.

Buffy shrugged. "Been rockier." She sat next to him and grinned at his preoccupation. "Whatchya looking at?"

Xander jumped guiltily. "Uh, nothing." His eyes flashed to the floor again.

"Well, `nothing' appears to be wearing an entire cow," Buffy quipped, glancing at the leather-clad girl that Xander was currently ogling.

Xander seemed to realize where he was, and began scanning the club frantically. "Cordy's not here, is she? `Cause, regardless of what my actions with vampires may indicate, I actually like my limbs attached."

Willow glanced over at the girl as well, whose face was obscured by the throng of male bodies dancing around her.

"I'll be honest, Xander. I don't really think you wanna pursue that unless you have a burning desire to be beaten up by a testosterone-fueled mob," Willow contributed.

"My to-do list has a couple of things above that. Like, become a transvestite." His eyes were still glued.

They continued to stare at the girl as she grabbed one of her harem and dragged him out of the club. Buffy watched them, brow furrowed. There was a procession of unpleasant tingles running up and down her spine.

"I don't think that guy's top priority is making out," she said, moving quickly from her seat and following them. Willow seemed to be oblivious as Oz began a solo. Xander got up inelegantly and went after them.

Buffy stepped out of the Bronze and looked around frantically, taking out a stake she had stashed in her sleeve. "Did you see where they went?"

Xander shook his head, and then snapped his head around as a crash echoed through the alleyway. "My guess? Follow the violent noises."

They ran towards the end of the alley and were immediately forced to duck as a body came flying towards them. The vampire, game-face contorted in confusion, went flying by them and crashed into the brick wall behind them. He groaned and held a hand to his head.

Buffy whirled around as footsteps echoed towards them.

The girl from the dance floor sauntered forward and Buffy's eyes widened. "What the imaginary heck are you doing here? Don't you belong in my head?"

The girl stopped too, eyes narrowing in recognition. She saw the stake Buffy held tightly and her expression became insultingly incredulous.

"You're the Slayer?" She regained her composure and snorted contemptuously. "Gotta say, didn't see this coming. You're like four feet tall."

Buffy was speechless for about three seconds. Then, assuming her patented, "who the hell do you think you are?" expression, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at the other girl. "First of all, I'm a solid 5'3. Second of all, how did you just throw that vamp like he was a piece of clothing? Which, incidentally, you should look into."

The girl smirked. "I'm a Slayer, dumbass. I'm Faith." She stepped forward and snatched the stake fluidly from Buffy's hand. "You mind?" She swaggered casually over to the still-stunned vampire and staked him.

Xander had been looking back and forth between the two Slayers as their exchange went to increasingly strange places. "Uh, so you guys know each other?"

Faith walked over to them, handing the stake to Buffy. "Buffy here," she jerked her thumb at the other girl and Buffy looked surprised to hear her name, "decided to hate on my man Johnny last night and shunted me to one of her own lame dreams that had a whole lot less bathroom linoleum than I was lookin' for."

"I'm sure that clears things up completely," Buffy said sarcastically, turning to Xander. "We kind of shared a dream for like 20 seconds. No big deal, really."

"Oh," Xander said faintly. "That's a pretty common thing for Slayers?" Faith shrugged. Buffy just looked annoyed. "So, what are the chances of a personal invite?" Buffy smacked him on the arm and he flinched.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy shot surreptitious glances at Faith as they made their way back into the club. She walked with the kind of swagger reserved for movie stars and people with large guns, Buffy thought. Leather pants, swaying hips, leisurely stroll, walking into the club as if the manager was her lap dog — Faith was the image of supreme confidence.

The Slayer thing makes the sharing head-space more believable, Buffy thought reluctantly. We do have a connection, regardless of how little I want to be connected to her. It also explained the bizarre sense of familiarity. She saw part of her own skills and strength in Faith, saw something that pulled at her memory and gut. But that was their only avenue of connection, she thought firmly. And then tried to remind herself to keep an open mind as Faith cockily plopped down in her seat and took a big swig from her drink. Something about Faith just ... unnerved her.

Willow looked positively shocked that the girl from the dance floor had sat next to them. She glanced at Xander disbelievingly and he shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, Wil, she didn't fall for my manly charms."

"I'm a Slayer," Faith said shortly.

"Oh," Willow said weakly. "I'm, uh, Willow."

"Xander," he said, waving and grinning like an idiot. Buffy glared.

"Oh!" Willow said again, but in understanding. "`Cause of that minor problem we had where Kendra died and Buffy was on the run from the cops and Spike and Drusilla wreaked bloody havoc on the entire town. You were called." Her voice trailed off slightly as she realized the length of her sentence.

"Looks like," Faith said, smirking at them. She seemed to enjoy the unsettling effect she had on other people. "So, B," Buffy irritably registered her new nickname and Faith continued, "heard this place was some kinda demon magnet. Like, all the creepies and nasties just show up here."

"Yeah, pretty much. Called a hellmouth," Buffy said curtly.

"That's a cheery name," Faith said, smirking and continuing to take large gulps of Buffy's drink. "Keeps you occupied, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"Yeah, I got a couple of wicked vamp stories myself. This one time in Boston, man, it was so hot that summer that I just made it a habit to sleep naked ..." Faith began to tell one story after another, her hands gesturing elaborately, her face lighting up as she recounted her kills. Buffy found herself staring at her, this stranger with whom she shared something deep and primal. She seemed so ... alive. So vivid and happy. It was painfully obvious how much she enjoyed slaying, the hunt, the satisfaction of dust staining her hands.

Buffy thought about her dream, the stark contrast between Faith's intense, dark face as she talked about blood and rain, and her bright, animated face as she now talked about taking on six vampires at a carnival with a stuffed animal, all of them covered in pink cotton candy. Buffy ignored the questionable veracity of that story and continued to look at Faith, trying to see through her, trying to see what made her so different from herself. She saw dark eyes, framed by an unhealthy amount of dark eye shadow and eyeliner, dark red lipstick, a tattoo on Faith's right bicep of some sort of design, tight leather covering almost her entire body.

There was something coiled and dangerous about her, as if a force was moving beneath the surface. Buffy felt mundane and uninteresting next to Faith. Most importantly, she felt enervated next to Faith's vibrant energy, like she had been slaying, but Faith had been living while doing it. Buffy flashed again onto Angel's face, how the sword had felt sliding through him, and felt a wrenching in her chest. Slaying hadn't been especially enjoyable since then.

She looked up to find everyone staring at her. Crap.

"Uh, what was the question?" she asked, feeling like she had just been caught doodling in class.

Faith grinned at her. Buffy noticed for the first time how obscenely attractive her dimples were. "Just askin' whether you felt the double h's after slaying."

"The what now?"

"Hungry and horny, B. Some reason, slaying vamps just gives me a wicked urge for food and screwing. Usually not at the same time, but I got an open mind." She cocked her head, smirking indecently.

Buffy blinked. "Uh, I — don't think I've ever had that particular experience." She blushed and Faith looked inappropriately happy at her discomfort.

Trying to change the subject and take all of the stares off of her increasingly red face, Buffy said quickly, "So, Faith, you ready for some of that good, clean slaying fun without those pesky h-words? I could show you around Sunnydale, you know, go to all the happening places. By which I mean cemeteries."

Faith's chair scraped as she got up and grabbed her jacket. "Hell yeah, B. I've been itchin' for some better fighting than that loser from earlier. Lead the way.

~ — ~ — ~

The night was quiet and still. Their shoes rustling the leaves and the occasional breeze provided the only noises. The two Slayers walked side by side, peering into the darkness.

"So ..." Buffy tried to start a conversation, the silence disconcerting, but had no idea what she was going to say. Faith glanced at her.

"Did you talk to your Watcher at all about our, uh, dream incident?" Buffy asked.

"Nah. She left to go on some Council retreat, so I skipped town to see what the famous Buffy Summers is really like." Faith grinned sideways at her.

"What retrea — I'm famous?" Buffy asked, uncertain and a little flattered.

"You got mentioned, yeah. Heard that you kicked some major ass. Gotta say," Faith said, shaking her head in admiration, "I give props to any skinny little chick like you who can use a rocket launcher."

Buffy's stomach clenched, remembering the context. "Yeah, I redefine the Slayer handbook. Who knew crossbows just didn't cut it against an impervious demon?" she said weakly.

Faith caught the change in tone and looked at her intently, frowning. "Rough kill, huh?" she asked.

Buffy glanced at her, surprised. "Uh, yeah, actually. I — I'm kind of still not in a good place to talk about it."

Faith held up her hands. "S'okay. I had a couple of those myself."

"And here I thought cotton candy was easy slaying," Buffy said lightly.

Faith snorted. "You'd be surprised, blondie. But, slayin's not all dust to dust, you know? Just `cause a demon's killed don't mean it's gone." Her tone lost its teasing, and Buffy caught something somber and aching underneath it.

Buffy opened her mouth to ask, in a semi-tactful way, what had happened to her, but the two Slayers abruptly stopped walking as a tingling sensation went up their spines. Buffy looked at Faith and saw her staring back with an almost juvenile eagerness that lit up her entire face. It was adorable, Buffy thought, and then realized what had just gone through her head. I'm obviously going insane, Buffy considered seriously. It was bound to happen eventually.

They turned to the source of tingles and saw a group of five vampires prowling around the edge of the cemetery. One of them stopped and inhaled through his nose, a predatory smirk gracing his not so attractive features.

"Well, well. Check out the brave little girls. Mall too busy?" he asked, smirking. The other vampires stopped and turned their heads to stare at Buffy and Faith as well.

The two Slayers began walking forwards casually, confidently, glancing at each other again.

"Nah, we just needed a little fresh air, you know? `Course, if we had realized that `fresh air' meant smelling assholes who haven't discovered hygiene, we mighta reconsidered," Faith said loudly and arrogantly.

The vampires growled, and launched themselves in a completely disorganized way at Buffy and Faith. Buffy rolled forward, coming up with a kick to one of the vampires' chests. He grunted as he was propelled in a nearby tree. The other vampires froze.

"That was unexpected," one of them said intelligently.

Buffy and Faith didn't give them a chance to consider another option, throwing themselves into the group with fists and feet, taking on two vampires each. Buffy blocked a punch from one of them, following up with a left hook and a stake to the chest. She moved immediately through his dust, catching the other one by surprise and sweeping out her legs. She went down and Buffy moved to plunge the stake in but was stopped by a foot to the face. Right, left, dancing around, punch to the ribs, and finally Buffy found an opening and felt wood pierce the vampire's heart.

She started to move towards Faith and stopped suddenly. Buffy stared at the other Slayer in utter fascination. Faith moved like liquid, like confident, violent liquid. Legs and arms swung through the air fluidly, unerringly finding their target. Technique wasn't really an issue, as Faith seemed to combine and invent moves as easily as she breathed. Her face was contorted in concentration and pleasure, nakedly caught up in the thrill of the fight. Muscles moved seamlessly under skin, her tattoo twisting with the fierce motions of her arms. It was like watching a beautiful, deadly work of art flow. That coiled, dangerous energy Buffy had seen before wasn't coiled anymore — it was undulating in waves.

Buffy thought vaguely that this was the only time tonight she had actually seen Faith. She realized that she was breathing heavily and promptly felt like a perv as she noticed she had been standing and staring at Faith for the past minute. Faith backed the last vampire into a gravestone, jabbing and kicking incessantly, and plunged the stake home. She turned back around to Buffy, grinning maniacally.

"Goddam. That was wicked fun. Vamps are just more fun to punch here than they are in Boston," Faith said breathlessly.

Buffy stared at her, feeling as if she was intruding on something private. "You really enjoy this, huh?"

"Fuckin' a." Faith smirked at her. "Don't tell me you don't, B. I caught that little bit of bullshit back in the club. You get off on this, same as me."

Buffy flushed without really understanding why, her stomach performing a complex swoop.

"C'mon, princess. Let's go be burdened by the responsibility of slaying some more." She jerked her head in another direction, still smirking cockily at Buffy.

Faith walked off, leaving Buffy feeling as if she had just entered a play without knowing the lines or stage directions. Buffy stared vaguely at Faith's retreating form and then, blinking herself out of her stupor, jogged after the other Slayer.

Chapter 2: White Knight

Author's Notes: Much, much thanks to everyone who reviewed my first chapter. I really appreciate all the feedback and encouragement. Henceforth, I am officially inspired. This story ain't stopping till it's done.

Buffy entered the library the next day to find Faith sitting at the table as if she had always been there, laughing with Willow and Xander. They turned their heads as she approached, all of them still grinning at something riotously funny.

"Buffy!" Willow said loudly and happily. "Faith was just telling us some more wacky Slayer stories. Did you know that Delket demons re-grow fingernails almost instantaneously?" She looked at Faith with something uncomfortably close to hero worship and Faith gave her a lopsided smirk in return.

"I can't say I did," Buffy said, irrationally jealous all of a sudden. She realized with no small amount of trepidation that she didn't know who she was jealous of. "Must have real trouble finding a roommate willing to put up with the constant nail clipping."

Giles came out of the office, staring intently at a book and chewing on the end of his glasses.

"Giles," Buffy said. He glanced up. "So, I assume you and Faith have met?" she asked, almost warily.

"Ah, yes." He smiled fondly at Faith, like they had known each other for years. "She was just telling me about her Watcher. We've actually met several times during Council events. Extraordinary lady."

Buffy glanced at Faith and saw a brief and intense sadness flash across her face, echoing yesterday. She felt a rush of something resembling protectiveness and almost slapped herself.

"Yeah, she's a pretty sweet chick. Plucked me off the streets of South Boston and told me straight-up, no sugar-coatin' it, that I was meant to kill vampires. Kinda blows a girl's mind," Faith said, re-applying her cocky smirk so quickly and convincingly that Buffy almost thought she had imagined that flicker.

Willow and Xander were staring at her, their mouths slightly open.

"So, you just went and started slaying? No girly screaming?" Xander asked eagerly.

Buffy glared at him. "Just to set the record straight, my screams were definitely of the warrior variety."

Faith glanced at her briefly, raising an eyebrow. "`Course they were, B." She turned her head towards Xander. "I didn't just say, okay, point me at the nearest undead fucker. Took some convincing. But, it felt right, you know? Like that was what I was supposed to be doing."

More worshipful staring, as well as a little flinch from Giles at her language.

"Buffy, I'd like you to begin patrolling with Faith on a regular basis," Giles said during a lull in the nauseating Faith-loving convention. "The arrangement will make it safer for both of you."

Buffy looked at the ceiling, sighing melodramatically. She had expected this, but felt a surge of anxiety she couldn't explain. Faith was another Slayer. Giles was right — it would be a lot safer patrolling with her. And yet, there was something ... off about her. Something unstable. She was keeping something from them, and Buffy knew it would come out sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

~ — ~ — ~

"So, after about 17 failed relationships with complete assholes, I realized that simple is better." Faith shrugged. "Get some, get gone. Made my life a lot less complicated, gotta tell you."

Buffy looked sideways at her. "I can see the advantages of that," she said quietly.

"Not for you, though, huh?" Faith asked knowingly, a little acerbically.

"Unlikely, but who knows? A year ago, I would have said, no way am I patrolling without make-up, and look at my sloppy self now. Things change quickly," Buffy said lightly.

They were patrolling that night, strolling through one of Sunnydale's larger cemeteries. The moon was hanging heavy in the sky, round and yellow. Buffy felt restless, impatient in her own skin. For the first time in a while, she wanted to slay. She wanted to move, jump, feel skin under her fists. She wanted to feel that unrivaled sensation of complete victory, of dust where a body used to be. If she was being entirely honest with herself, something about Faith brought this out in her. Something about the blatant, predatory energy rolling off of Faith in waves.

Buffy's train of thought was abruptly truncated as a scream ripped through the night. The Slayers looked at each other quickly and set off running towards it. They leapt over headstones, sprinting all out, and soon came upon a group of vampires grinning and circling a young girl. The girl was on the ground, whimpering and looking terrified.

"Take the left!" Buffy yelled and threw herself into the right three of the group.

They scattered and Buffy took the advantage of surprise to stake one of them almost immediately. The other two regrouped, one of them coming up behind her and twisting her arms behind her, pinning her. She received two hard punches to the face before leaning back into the vampire and kicking out both her legs. He flew and she wrenched herself out of the other vampire's grip. Spinning around, roundhouse kick sending him crashing to the ground. Stake out and in his chest before he could open his eyes. Buffy felt strong hands on her shoulders and was suddenly being dragged away by the vampire she had kicked before. She struggled, reached up and hit him in the face. Vaulting back up, kick to the stomach, stake as he doubled over in pain.

She looked over at Faith, wanting to see if she needed help and in no way wanting to watch her fight again, and was suddenly tackled. Buffy fell to the ground with a grunt of pain and looked up to see the young girl the vamps had been circling in game face, snarling at her.

"You know, call me optimistic, but I thought you'd be more grateful that we rescued you," Buffy said, standing up and taking a defensive stance.

"Poor Slayer. You have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?" The vampire grinned unpleasantly at her.

"Elementary school drop-out with a bad perm and dye job?" Buffy asked innocently.

The vampire growled deeply. "For Kakistos we live, little girl. And for Kakistos you die."

She launched herself at Buffy, punching and kicking relentlessly. Buffy was forced back by the sheer ferocity of the attack, finding herself against a gravestone and trying to block the fast, hard, unceasing hits. The vampire managed to grab her forearms and pin them against the gravestone, grinning while she lowered her head and opened her mouth wide. Buffy struggled, but found there was almost no space to bring her knees up. Her movements became frantic as the vampire's teeth found her neck.

Suddenly, the teeth were gone and a soft something had replaced the hardness of the vampire's chest. Faith looked almost comically surprised as her momentum from staking the vampire caused her to fall into Buffy. The other Slayer was unexpectedly pressed tightly against Buffy, hips against hips, chest to chest, hands pushed against the gravestone on either side of Buffy.

Buffy almost stopped breathing. The rush from the fight was coursing through her, making it difficult for her to do anything more than make small pathetic noises. She inhaled shakily and looked at Faith, whose obvious shock was being slowly replaced by something else, something that made her eyes wide, dark, and lustrous. Faith stared at her, their faces inches apart. Buffy could feel the other Slayer's warm breath, could see her mouth barely open, could feel the heat of her chest and stomach pressed tightly to hers.

Buffy didn't want to move. She was afraid something would shatter if she did. She felt herself, completely bereft of any self-control now, open her legs slightly so that Faith fell more into her. She closed her eyes, bit her lip and failed to suppress a moan at the contact. She opened her eyes to see Faith looking at her lips intently, leaning in slowly, mouths moving towards each other at an interminable pace. Until a twig cracked nearby and reality came unpleasantly rushing in.

Buffy snapped her legs closed. Her arms, regaining control, pushed Faith back so quickly that she stumbled. Buffy's brain seemed to be exploding with the sheer amount of, "What the fuck?" and, "What are you doing?" thoughts that stampeded through it. Something is seriously wrong with me, she thought. I've become a lesbian nymphomaniac. Is there a pill for that?

"Uh," Buffy started to say, and was disgusted with how much her voice trembled.

Faith looked at her, a triumphant, cocky smirk gracing her features. Buffy wanted to either hit her or jump her, and the lack of distinction between the two was incredibly disturbing.

Buffy swallowed hard. "So, kudos to us for falling for that not-so-original trap. Vamps usually aren't that occupied with planning. Did — uh, did you hear what that vampire said before you staked her?" Buffy said, seizing on a topic.

"No, not really. More focused on other things." God, that smile was infuriating. Or sexy. She couldn't decide.

"She said something about living for Kakistos," Buffy said flatly.

Faith stepped back, her smirk dissolved and the color drained from her face. She suddenly looked terrified and small.

"Kakistos?" she said weakly.

Buffy stared at her, shocked at the abrupt change. Everything that had previously happened suddenly seemed years ago. "Faith?"

"Kakistos," Faith said again quietly, running her hands through her hair. "It's — he's a vamp. A big, old, fucking mean one with a scar through his eye that I gave him." She pointed at herself and Buffy saw that her hand was shaking.

"What happened?" Buffy asked gently. There was more to it and Buffy was almost scared to find out.

Faith just stared at her, growing paler. "Faith, you need to tell me," Buffy said firmly. Faith turned quickly and tried to move away but Buffy grasped her hand tightly, holding her there.

"What happened to your Watcher?" Faith's head snapped around, her eyes blazing such heat in her colorless face that Buffy almost took a step back.

"There aren't words to describe what he did to her." Her voice broke.

"Faith, listen to me. We're going to kill him. But we need to do it together." Buffy stared intently at her. She saw a myriad of emotions running across Faith's face.

"You did nothing wrong. Guilt isn't what you should be feeling. If you hadn't run, you would be dead too," Buffy said steadily.

She continued to hold Faith's hand and began leading her away. "We're going to Giles. Right now."

~ — ~ — ~

Giles opened the door to his apartment, mouth open and firmly prepared to yell at the person who had disturbed him at such a late hour, and promptly closed it as he saw Buffy and Faith, pale and grasping hands.

Ten minutes later, sitting on Giles' couch with hot cups of tea in their hands, which they definitely wouldn't drink, Buffy began. "There's a new vamp in town, Giles. Calls himself Kakistos. He killed Faith's Watcher."

Giles' face fell. "Oh, good Lord." He looked at Faith intently. "He followed you here?"

Faith nodded, still pale.

"Well, unfortunately, I've read about him. Apparently, his age is so advanced that his hands and feet are cloven. Hyperbole, I'm sure, but he'll be difficult to kill." He glanced at Buffy, sitting straight and resolutely. "Both of you will need to be aware at all times. Vampires as old as he usually have a considerable following."

"We've met," Buffy said shortly.

Giles brow furrowed. "I'd suggest you both go home and get some rest. We can research him more in the morning and start training seriously." He stood up and looked at Faith, his expression compassionate. "I'm so sorry, Faith. Your Watcher truly was a remarkable woman."

She looked back at him, her eyes bright and hard.

They left Giles' apartment, Buffy shooting glances at Faith as though she was afraid she would fracture suddenly.

"I'm not running, B. You can stop looking at me like I am," Faith said angrily.

Buffy rolled her eyes and snorted. "That's not why I'm looking at you, Faith. I'm worried about you." Her voice grew softer. "I can't imagine what that was like for you, losing your Watcher."

Faith sneered at her. "Yeah, well I don't need your goddamn pity. I can take care of myself. It's what I've been doing my entire life and it's not gonna change just cause you see yourself some kinda white knight." Her voice was hard, unyielding.

Buffy felt her anger rising. She stopped in front of Faith. "I'm not here to rescue you," she said heatedly. "You don't want my pity? Fine. Show me you can do this and you'll get my respect."

Faith looked at her and Buffy saw thick, overwhelming fear in her eyes. She looked as though she was about to say something, but her face froze as they both felt the growing presence of vampires. Faith looked around frantically as the two Slayers were hemmed in the alleyway. Eight vampires, smiling arrogantly, circled Buffy and Faith.

"You didn't think you could do that to our Master and live to talk about it? Poor, afraid little girl. Keep that fear up, Faith. It makes you taste better," one of them growled.

"Come on, Faith. This is what we do," Buffy said quietly, forcefully.

Without waiting for the other Slayer, she picked up the nearest trash can and flung it at one of the vampires, immediately following up with a hard hit to the stomach. She didn't think, couldn't think, as she battled the vampires. Buffy found herself exhilarated despite the circumstances. Four vampires lunging and hitting, and Buffy had to use all of her skill, all of her instincts not to slip. She could see Faith in the corner of her vision, throwing punches like she wanted to shatter bones. One down. Two down. Until she looked around and saw that they were losing.

"Faith!" she yelled. "Let's go!"

Buffy grabbed wildly at one of Faith's forearms and dragged her away, running towards an opening. They sprinted, almost skidded into the wall and turned sharply. Buffy saw a door up ahead and rammed her shoulder into it, causing it to splinter. They climbed through it and looked around frantically. Buffy saw dead bodies stuffed in the corner and Faith moaned pitifully.

"No, no! It's his — he led us this way!"

"Faith." A voice, deep and gravelly, spoke from Buffy's left and Kakistos stepped forward.

Holy mother of God, Buffy thought. He was enormous. His hands were warped into large, twisted claws. Hyperbole my ass, she thought, and resolved to kick Giles in the shins next time she saw him. She forced herself not to think too much about what was going on, and lunged at Kakistos. He blocked her hit casually, laughing. She kicked him in the stomach and he barely flinched. He backhanded her and Buffy smashed into a wall, feeling her shoulder take the brunt of it. She got to her feet and saw Kakistos leisurely backing Faith into a corner.

"Faith!" she yelled. "You're a Slayer! Go slay!"

Faith's eyes were wide, unblinking. Buffy leapt at him, kicking him in the legs and spinning him around to plunge a stake into his chest. She grinned triumphantly, and then froze as he laughed, yanked the stake out and casually tossed it away.

"Sorry, Slayer. You're going to need to do better than that puny piece of wood." His voice was harsh and darkly amused.

Faith blinked. Her eyes focused and Buffy saw her entire body harden. She broke one of the wooden beams above her and shoved the entire two by four into Kakistos. He gasped and was abruptly dust.

Faith and Buffy stood looking at each other, breathing heavily. "That was bracing," Buffy said. "And oddly anticlimactic. Where did all the other vampires go?"

Faith's smirk reappeared suddenly. "Who gives a fuck? We're getting Mexican. I'm starving."

Buffy grinned at her, feeling a surge of happiness. "You're paying. I spent all my money on that crappy rain coat."

Chapter 3: Areas of Confusion

Author's Notes:

"All I'm sayin' is that guys like your Scottie there wouldn't be able to handle Slayer strength in the sack." Faith was walking backwards, grinning at Buffy's discomfort.

"Scott isn't my boyfriend. And since when did this conversation become about sex?"

"Since you started having it with me." Faith's grin grew.

Buffy eyes widened to monumental proportions. "Wha — um — we haven't — what?" she sputtered, her heart thumping unevenly.

"Since you started having the conversation with me," Faith explained, obviously completely understanding the multiple levels of that comment. She gave Buffy her lopsided, patented, cocky smirk. "Get your mind outta the gutter, B."

Buffy rolled her eyes, trying to regain her composure. "Sometimes I feel the need to hit you repeatedly. Preferably until you're unconscious and can't say things like that," she said flatly.

There was a low, diffuse mist in the cemetery that night. It was several weeks after the Kakistos confrontation, and they had been patrolling together regularly. The two Slayers had developed a rhythm and a level of comfort between them. None of their conversations went particularly deep, but it was nice to have company to trade barbs and small talk with.

Buffy and Faith would meet up after school, at the library or Faith's shitty motel, and then go hunting. The predator in Buffy, the thing she squashed into a tiny ball most of the time and pretended never existed, seemed to have more control when Faith was around. It was a different kind of hunting. When she had patrolled alongside Angel, the air didn't have the same tight anticipation that it did with Faith, the same kind of barely suppressed intensity. Faith went through slaying on the balls of her feet, all fierceness and impatience. Nothing like Angel.

Angel. It had been getting easier. Thinking about him and still being able to breathe. It seemed like every day the vise around her gut loosened a fraction of an inch. Faith was actually helping with that. Distracting her, pulling her along for the chaotic tornado that was Faith. Of course, Faith didn't help with a lot of other areas. Areas full of confusion, inexplicable stomach flutters and shameless voyeurism. Areas after a big, adrenaline-fueled fight where the two Slayers looked at each other and Buffy's brain went to places where it had no business being.

There hadn't been any more uncomfortable incidents of near-kissage, but Buffy sometimes found herself watching Faith, looking at her fluid recklessness with an eagerness that terrified her. She tried desperately to pretend the ... time with the thing and the gravestone had never happened, but Faith wasn't really the type to respect social boundaries. Hence, subtle sexual allusions that rapidly became less subtle.

"So, what's up with Scottie anyway? You flirting shamelessly with him? Quickies in the bathroom?"

"Who knows?" Buffy sighed. "Well, except for that last part, which is definitely not happening. I don't know if I'm ready for some kind of relationship with him." She raised an eyebrow at Faith. "Don't suppose you have any constructive advice."

"Just one. Duck," Faith said, looking vaguely over Buffy's shoulder.

Buffy had just enough time to wonder why Faith was talking about pond animals before something large and heavy collided with her head. She fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

"God, that was hilarious, Faith," she growled irritably, jumping to her feet and delivering a right hook to the vampire that had snuck up on her.

"I got my own stand-up routine, B," Faith called to her from within a whirling mass of fists and legs.

She ignored Faith's ringing laughter and focused on her vampire, who had at first looked triumphant and was now merely bruised and confused.

"I know. Slayers really should have some sort of sign. Maybe a large white hat," Buffy said innocently, shrugging. "But, really, how many normal girls are gonna go walking through the cemetery at night? Hunt downtown, buddy, like a smart undead creature."

He stared at her, nonplussed. He was young, college student-age, with neatly coiffed hair and an immaculately starched polo shirt.

"Newbie?"

He nodded, dazed. "Who the hell are you?"

"Slayer. Sorry, but you won't really have a chance to look it up," Buffy said, staking him.

Faith gave a triumphant yell as she finished with her vamp. She walked over to Buffy and put her arm out, palm up, which Buffy slapped hesitantly.

"Hell, yeah. So, continuing our convo before. What's wrong with the boy?" Faith asked, falling into step with her.

"I don't know. He's just ... normal. He's ridiculously normal. He goes to school and he does his homework and he doesn't have a secret double life where he has to use special shampoo to get demon puss out of his hair," Buffy rambled.

Faith wrinkled her nose at the last statement. "That's fucked up, yo."

Buffy motioned with her hand impatiently. "And? Anything else incredibly insightful you can contribute?"

"I get it, I do. You got a life that would make most people shit their pants. How can a guy who doesn't even know about it really fit in?" Faith said, rather sympathetically.

"That ... makes an unreasonable amount of sense. Have you been taking classes?" Buffy asked, frowning.

"I know slaying. And I know guys. And most of the time, blondie, they don't go together. `Less you're willing to use my fool-proof system."

"The `use `em and lose `em' approach?" Buffy asked skeptically, and Faith nodded. "That's not a system, Faith. A system is complicated. It has squiggles and complex little swirls. Yours is a straight line."

"Maybe not that straight," Faith said, smirking.

Buffy sighed. "I don't even know why I talk to you. You're a walking sexual innuendo."

"C'mon, B," Faith said, laughing. "You know I'm right, anyway. Scottie just isn't your slice of pie. I mean, have a quickie in the bathroom with him. Hell, have 14. Just don't plan on fat grandchildren."

"The world seems so weird when you say logical things. Or, semi-logical things, at least."

Faith shoved her playfully. "We're done here, anyway. Vamps in this town don't have the balls to take us on. It's Bronze time."

~ — ~ — ~

The two Slayers found their way into the writhing mass of bodies at the Bronze. Faith made a beeline for the bar, while Buffy spotted Xander and Willow being compacted into an unrecognizable shape by the teeming crowd.

"Hey, guys. New weight-loss program? Called, `fat trembles in the face of brute squashing force'?" Buffy asked, grinning.

"Ha. Ha. Oh, and come sit over here by me," Xander said weakly.

"Hey, Red," Faith said, bringing an excessive amount of alcohol over to their tiny table.

Willow's eyes scanned the club anxiously. "Uh, did they change the laws? Is alcohol not illegal for us anymore? Did my voice just get oddly high-pitched?"

"Flirting'll get you anything, Wil. Remember that." Faith smirked and handed Buffy a shot glass.

"Faith. I'm not drinking that," Buffy said, trying to sound stern.

"Fuck yeah, you are," Faith snorted. "If you don't, I'll find a way to slip a roofie into your drink at school. You'll wake up in the janitor's closet panty-less."

Buffy stared at her. "The fact that I don't even know if you're joking or not says a lot about our friendship."

"Drink up, princess," Faith said, and threw back her shot like a professional alcoholic.

Buffy tentatively took the offered glass and looked into it. "Don't smell it," Faith warned. Willow was looking at her with an anxious expression.

"What the hell," Buffy mumbled, tilted her head back, and downed it. "Ugh! God, what was that?" she cried, gagging a little.

"Good shit, huh?" Faith grinned.

"I think my esophagus just dissolved," Buffy gasped, but stopped as she felt a warmth seeping through her. The actual drinking was horrendous, but it made her stomach feel all warm and fuzzy.

"Gimme another one," she said firmly.

Faith handed her another one, looking inappropriately happy. Buffy threw it back, making the same "Ugh!" noise.

Willow was watching the events unfolding before her with an appalled expression.

"But — you shouldn't — Giles! What would Giles say?" she sputtered.

"Chill, Red. We're young and stupid. We're supposed to do things like this. Giles would understand that even tight-asses like B need a break." Faith grinned as Buffy took the last shot she had just been handed, looked at it warily for about two seconds, and then downed it.

"Okay, that's it. As resident tight-ass, I'm drawing a very mature and rational line," Buffy said.

She grabbed Faith's hand and dragged her out to the dance floor. Her head was swimming pleasantly. Her legs felt warm and tingly, and she was very aware of Faith's hand in hers.

They found a relatively large space and began moving. Faith was a frenetic piece of machinery, throwing her hips around, tangling her hands in her hair, body twisting in ways that Buffy didn't think was physically possible. Faith's eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, tongue barely touching her glistening bottom lip. Her shirt kept riding up over a taut stomach, her pants hugging her hips. She looked so vivid, so vibrantly lost within herself, throwing herself into dancing with the same abandon as she did slaying.

Buffy realized that she had been staring at her for the past minute. She jumped a little, looked around guiltily, and began moving herself. Letting the alcohol guide her body in ways she probably wouldn't have even considered before. Buffy closed her eyes, put her hands on her own body, mimicking Faith, and did what felt right.

She stiffened slightly as she felt someone behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Faith grinning at her predatorily, and her heart started pounding wildly. She felt hands on her hips and the feel of Faith's body flush against her back. Buffy bit her bottom lip as Faith's breasts pressed into her back, as Faith's hips firmly attached themselves to her ass.

This is bad, Buffy thought anxiously. This is very, very bad. This is exactly the kind of sexually ambiguous situation I shouldn't be getting into.

"Relax, B. Go with it. Don't wanna disappoint our audience," Faith murmured into her ear, and Buffy shivered and noticed the furtive glances they were receiving from the crowd.

Faith started the rhythm, swaying and moving Buffy's hips back and forth. There was a moment of hesitation, of vaguely considering sitting back down, before the alcohol and the feel of Faith's warm, solid body won the debate. Buffy followed her, feeling her body undulate and surge with the Slayer behind her. She felt powerful, sexy, reckless. She felt something loosen in her chest and limbs, a release that made her move languorously and seductively. Buffy could feel Faith's reassuring and alluring heat behind her, hot breath ghosting across her shoulder blades. Buffy's own breath hitched as Faith's hands began moving slowly upwards, sliding underneath her shirt and finding clenched stomach muscles.

Buffy moaned softly as Faith's hips pressed more determinedly into her ass, as her hands moved to places that weren't really appropriate for the dance floor, and Buffy realized that there was absolutely no way she was going to stop her. The thought was more than a little terrifying, but exhilarating too. She tilted her head back, brought her hand up and tangled it in the other Slayer's hair, and Faith gently lowered her mouth to the warm skin of Buffy's neck. She felt a tongue, teeth, lips on her collarbone and inhaled sharply. This isn't supposed to feel this good, she thought, and then promptly and deliberately buried it under the alcohol-induced whirling in her head.

"You taste good, B," Faith murmured in a dark, rough voice into her neck. Buffy almost had an orgasm.

"I — don't really know how to respond to that," she said weakly.

"Well, lemme help with that," Faith said softly, slightly mischievously, and slowly moved her hands from beneath Buffy's breasts to a more southern location. They reached the top of Buffy's pants and slid lower, nearly touching her through her jeans. Buffy moaned, rolled her hips forward.

"Yeah, that's really the kind of response I was hoping for," Faith said, gently scratching her teeth on Buffy's neck and causing her to shudder.

Faith suddenly removed her hands and mouth and stepped back. Buffy whimpered pathetically, turning around to see Faith smiling and breathing heavily. Buffy's eyes flicked involuntarily to Faith's mouth and then back up to the deep brown of her eyes, dark and wide with an emotion that made something twist in the pit of Buffy's stomach.

"Your friends are about to have aneurysms," Faith explained, amused, glancing at something on the edge of the floor.

Buffy looked around at the table where Willow and Xander were sitting. Willow was sitting with her hands clenched her lap, a ludicrously shocked expression on her face. Xander was slumped forward, his jaw open and his face slack. There might have been some drool. Buffy started laughing, ignoring the pang of disappointment she suddenly felt.

"Come on, Faith. Let's go do some damage control." Buffy grasped the other Slayer's hand and led her back to the table.

Chapter 4: Grade A Hedonism

Author's Notes: Okay, so if any of you are getting a little impatient with the conventional (one could say trite, and they wouldn't be too far off) Fuffy plot points, then I ask you to keep reading for a couple more chapters. This is my first time posting something longer than a chapter, and I kind of failed to realize the importance of early creativity. But, never fear, things will get more interesting. Season 3 shit will go down. This story isn't just a Buffy-and-Faith-have-lots-and-lots-of-sex story (although they do get down with their bad selves quite a few times ... hmm), and things do happen. So, thanks for the patience. And hope you enjoy this chapter. Another first for me — writing this kind of scene.

"You really wouldn't?" Faith asked incredulously.

"No, Faith, I wouldn't have sex with Brad Pitt if he was a vampire," Buffy said, slightly exasperated but smiling.

They were patrolling again. Since last week, Buffy had been avoiding the Bronze whenever Faith was there. She didn't want to consider the "why" of that too thoroughly, because that would mean she would have to actively think about it. She only distantly acknowledged that dancing, alcohol, and Faith was a dangerous, dangerous combination.

"Girl, you have serious issues." Faith gave her a look. "It's not the vampire thing, cause you've been there, fucked that."

Buffy looked at her sharply. "Faith, we're not talking about that." Angel had, of course, come up in previous conversations. Faith seemed fascinated whenever Buffy talked about him.

Faith cocked her head and considered her, suddenly serious. "It still hurts that much, huh?" she asked. There was an undertone of skepticism in her voice.

Buffy looked ahead of her, her expression still intense. "Yeah, Faith, it still hurts that much." She inhaled deeply. "I honestly don't know if it's ever going to stop hurting. I loved him so much." She looked at Faith, smiling faintly. "Maybe it shouldn't stop hurting."

Buffy vaguely registered the rapid change in atmosphere. All of a sudden they were having a real conversation. Faith was like that, she thought. Changing so suddenly and dramatically, switching between playful taunting and genuine emotion. Buffy could never read her completely.

"That seems like a waste of energy, B," Faith said sincerely. Buffy frowned at her. "I mean, people just aren't like that. They shouldn't be grieved over forever. You have whatever you have with them, and then you move on to the next warm body. Or," she smirked, "cold body, you know, whichever."

Buffy stared at her. "How did you get so cynical? You're like 17," she said, mildly shocked.

Faith shrugged, said sarcastically, "What can I say? I guess growing up in the projects in south Boston didn't really sell me on the softer side of humanity."

"Then maybe you should start investing in it here," Buffy said, glancing at her. "I just can't see anyone living happily with that kind of view."

Faith looked at her, annoyed. "Hey, I'm five by five, B. Maybe you're the one who needs to wake up and smell the bullshit." She gestured around her distractedly. "The world ain't a nice place. It's just everybody screwing each other over for their own little piece of the sky."

Buffy shook her head, a little stunned at Faith's outburst. "I don't believe that."

"`Course you don't, B. You fight `cause you believe the opposite. That human beings are all nice, you know, real deep down. That we wouldn't all kill each other without a second glance," Faith said sardonically. "You ever think that those convictions of yours, those reasons you fight, are spoon-fed to you `cause those old Council bastards need you happy and obedient?"

Buffy realized the person next to her was a complete stranger. "Why do you fight, then?"

"Why not?" Faith gave her a twisted grin. "We're made for this shit. We're built to enjoy smackin' down vamps. The way I figure, most humans aren't worth fighting for. They're a bunch of drunken assholes. But, we can still get off on this." She was smirking, but her mouth was a tight, hard line.

Buffy stopped walking and turned completely to look at Faith. "That's it? You fight because it feels good?" she asked incredulously.

"B." Faith's expression changed to something infinitely more dangerous, something predatory. Her voice had taken on that rough quality that made Buffy's stomach flop. "I do most things `cause they feel good."

She stepped forward, very deliberately invading Buffy's space, and the atmosphere changed again. Buffy's heart started thumping erratically, her legs suddenly feeling unstable.

"There's a name for that, right?" Faith asked, her voice a little deeper, a little huskier.

"Uh," Buffy said wittily, and hated how her voice broke so easily. "Hedonist?"

"Yeah, that's it. I'm a grade A hedonist." Faith was staring at her fixedly, smiling dangerously.

Buffy felt like something was about to happen that she had no control over. Her mind was going into a thoughtless hibernation as Faith moved even closer. She could smell leather and vanilla and some kind of really unexpected flowery aroma, could see the other Slayer's dark eyes growing darker.

Faith stopped moving and her head snapped up as they both felt those familiar prickles. Buffy's brain began functioning again.

"Oh, thank God," Buffy croaked.

Faith turned her head around and her eyes were glittering and amused. "Don't think you're getting off that easy, blondie. I like to take a little time before that happens." Her smirk was impossibly indecent. Buffy tried to desperately ignore the cascade of images accompanying that comment.

The two Slayers turned as a group of vampires strolled casually around the side of the nearest mausoleum, talking and laughing. Buffy and Faith took out their stakes, tensed their muscles in anticipation.

"Hey," Buffy said loudly (and only a little shakily), and the vampires turned around, surprised. "Aren't you guys supposed to be able to sense us or something?"

"Yeah, B. Poor fuckers. They musta missed that day of vampire class," Faith supplied arrogantly.

"Or maybe we just aren't afraid of little girls," one of the vampires said, and then looked at his group uncertainly. "There isn't really a vampire class, right?" he asked quietly.

Buffy and Faith launched themselves into the group, and then there were only the sounds of slaying, of fists hitting flesh, hard breathing, grunting, bodies falling, hitting gravestones. Punch, kick, sweep, dust. Repeat until satisfied. Block, roundhouse, stake plunging home as bodies dissolved. Buffy felt almost exultant. Faith was right, they were made for this. Her body responded purely on instinct, no thought. She could see Faith fighting and it made Buffy ache to look at her. Such fluid violence and movement.

The two Slayers finished their last vamps and stood alone, shoulders heaving and bodies vibrating with adrenaline and the ferocious rush of violence. Buffy stayed with her head down, staring at the small pile of dust that had been, just a minute ago, hitting her in the face. She didn't want to look up, see Faith's face. Her body was thrumming as she clenched her fists to try to regain control. There were rhythms all through her. Pounding between her legs, in her hands, her wrists, blood pumping in her temples. She flashed on Faith's words before the fight and realized she was almost painfully wet.

She finally raised her head and found Faith staring intently at her. She saw Faith's mouth was slightly open, her lips sensual and bruised, and couldn't stop herself from running her eyes over the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her shirt. Buffy found herself wondering how they would feel against her hands and flushed, suddenly embarrassed. She snapped her head away.

"That was almost disappointingly easy," Buffy said, her voice shaky and breathless.

Faith didn't answer her. The silence was so completely un-Faith. Buffy looked up again as she heard Faith closing the distance between them. The other Slayer's body moved swiftly, purposefully, until she grabbed Buffy's forearms and slammed her up against the mausoleum wall. Buffy's breath hitched, her heart slamming wildly against her rib cage. Their bodies were inches apart, and Buffy could feel the heat and energy pouring off Faith in waves. There was a second when Faith simply looked at her, gauging her reaction, almost seeking permission. Buffy couldn't have said anything if she'd tried. Still watching her, Faith deftly slipped a thigh in between Buffy's legs and leaned in.

"God," Buffy hissed.

A deep groan rose in her throat. And suddenly they were kissing, mouths working and opening frantically. Kissing a girl was like kissing a guy, except completely different, Buffy thought intelligently. Faith's lips were soft and full, and Buffy melted into that deep, warm heat in both of their mouths. There was sweetness in the other Slayer's motions, a thorough and unexpected tenderness that completely contrasted with the rampant passion Buffy was feeling. Faith ran her tongue along the edge of Buffy's lip and she opened her mouth, meeting her tentatively, slipping into each other. Buffy's hands moved to Faith's neck and face, sliding deep into her hair, fingernails digging into the back of Faith's head.

Buffy's breathing grew ragged as Faith's hands slid into the space between her body and the mausoleum wall, moving across her bare back and slowly gliding around, fingernails raking gently across her clenched stomach. Her hands moved up and cupped Buffy's breasts through the fabric of her bra. Buffy gasped into Faith's mouth, tongues still tangling, and her hips rolled forward on their volition, seeking the firmness of Faith's thigh.

They began a glorious rhythm then, Buffy's hips surging, Faith's thigh pushing back. Every time the other Slayer pushed in, her leg pressing solidly, her warm, practiced hands on Buffy's breasts, something in her throat and stomach snagged. Faith's hands went to her ass, pulling her along and shifting her along that length of muscle. She rode Faith's thigh, shuddering and groaning, and had never been so turned on or wetter. Her entire body was shaking, the only truly stable presence being the pounding between her weak legs and the rhythmic motion of her and Faith.

Buffy moved her head back, stopped kissing.

"Faith ..." she tried to start, and swallowed hard. "I — I can't stand up."

She saw Faith give a small, gentle, and distinctly un-cocky grin, her intense expression softening. She drew back a little and her hands went slowly down to the backs of Buffy's thighs, lifting her in one effortless motion. She hooked the blonde Slayer's legs around her waist and moved them into the wall, thrusting her hips toward and creating a beautiful friction that made Buffy's eyes roll back. A deep growl issued from her mouth that lasted precisely as long as it took for Faith to lower her mouth down and slip her tongue in again.

Buffy thought her entire central nervous system was going into some sort of seizure. The sensations moving through her body were incomprehensible. She tried to remind herself that this was Faith, not only a girl, but a girl who fucked like other people breathed. What precisely the hell was going on here? Why was she letting this happen? How could this possibly feel so good? And then Buffy's brain screeched to a grinding halt as Faith popped open the buttons of her jeans, yanked the zipper down, and slid her hand under the elastic of Buffy's underwear.

Faith's fingers moved slowly, tortuously down, stopping a centimeter away from where Buffy was aching and wet and resting there. Faith drew back with an expression of unabashed need, drifting her eyes along Buffy's slightly open, bruised mouth, down her heaving chest, her stomach, and then looking at her own hand inside Buffy's pants. Buffy shuddered under her gaze.

"Faith," she croaked weakly, trying to make her understand how much this was killing her, how much she needed it, while also trying not to sound like she was begging. That last part needed work.

Faith cocked an eyebrow at her tone, still not moving. Buffy was two seconds away from grabbing Faith's forearm and shoving her hand where it should be when the brunette slid a single finger inside her folds and pressed down, hard, on her clit.

"Fuck," Buffy let out in a strangled gasp. Her hips jerked forward.

Faith took her time, sliding through her, gathering wetness and moving in leisurely strokes and circles. Buffy's body stretched in a taut line every time Faith brushed over her clit. Every muscle was tense and shaking, her back arched and her jaw clenched. She was intensely glad her legs were around Faith and not on the ground, because there was no way they could have supported her. It felt so good she wanted to cry. Faith was exerting just the right amount of pressure, hard enough to make Buffy lightheaded, soft enough to make her shift her hips forward and look for more.

Faith moved forward, her breasts pressing into Buffy's, and lowered her mouth to Buffy's neck, sucking on her pulse point, teeth scraping on her collarbone. Buffy felt her everywhere. She was surrounded by Faith's hands, by her scent. Her entire body was on fire, a deep, delicious heat building in her stomach and between her thighs.

Faith's fingers started pressing on her clit, and Buffy couldn't stop the ragged cry that broke through the heavy stillness of the cemetery night. And then couldn't make any sound at all when Faith slid a finger slowly, deeply inside her. Faith added another finger and began a languid, unhurried rhythm, slipping in and out of her while her thumb circled her clit.

Buffy's eyes closed as her hips responded, rolling along in synch with the movements of Faith's hand. The brunette was going so slowly, and if Buffy didn't know who was doing it, she would have said gently. Buffy found her voice again, and almost wished she hadn't as she heard herself making noises she didn't even know she was capable of making. Pathetic-sounding whimpers that she would have been ashamed of if she could form coherent thoughts, some sort of high-pitched girly squeals, and shaking growls that felt as though they emanated from somewhere buried deep inside her.

She opened her eyes and found Faith once again staring at her intently. God, how had she never noticed how long her eyelashes were, how deep and wide her eyes were? Faith was looking at her with such naked, blatant hunger that Buffy shivered and almost came just staring at her. And she saw something else, a flicker of something incongruous, of something so deep and achingly tender that Buffy thought she was imagining it. Buffy lifted trembling fingers to Faith's face, gently stroking her cheeks, and felt Faith inhale sharply.

And then Buffy had to screw her eyes shut again because that slow burn inside her was turning into a friggin' napalm explosion. Her hips began surging, her breath coming in shallow, short pants.

"Faith," Buffy whispered, and thought she heard Faith's breath hitch in response.

Faith added another finger and curled them up, stroking that spot inside her, and Buffy was torn apart as the sensations coursing through her reached their peak in one violent, sweeping moment. Her entire body went rigid, clenching around Faith's fingers as the orgasm ripped through her viciously. Buffy tangled her hands in Faith's hair, vaguely felt the other girl's mouth on her neck, and arched her back as it rushed through her. She could only open her mouth and make small, ragged cries as Faith stayed buried deep inside her and lights and colors exploded within her.

Buffy's limbs didn't seem to be working after the overwhelming heat in her gave way to slow warmth. She slumped against Faith, her legs curling weakly around her waist as Faith held her up, slowing withdrawing her hand from Buffy's pants. There were several minutes where she could only breathe and try to regain feeling in her feet. And then Faith put her gently down and stepped back. Her silence was unnerving Buffy. Of course, other much more pressing matters were also unnerving Buffy.

"Look, B," Faith began, and her voice was a little hoarse, a little shaky. Buffy looked at this person in front of her, someone she realized she didn't really know, and saw the same hunger she had glimpsed earlier.

"We both needed this. Doesn't mean anything more."

And Faith walked away without another word, leaving Buffy slumped against the wall and more than just a little confused, with her pants unbuttoned, her underwear obviously not in the same condition as it had been, feeling like she had just been fucked into some sort of alternate dimension where she actually liked being fucked by girls, and wondering why exactly Faith would need this when Buffy didn't even get to return the favor.

Chapter 5: Normal People Problems

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Always welcome feedback.

Classes the next day were a blur of naughty images that kept replaying themselves in Buffy's head. This is getting ridiculous, she thought, as history class consisted of thinking about Faith's fingernails across her stomach and how her tongue had felt on her neck. Thinking about ... other places where her hands had been wasn't even an option, because Buffy realized that her motor functions stopped working when this happened.

Buffy wasn't even entirely sure what had happened last night. When she thought about it, the event began to adopt that slightly blurry, surreal feel of a dream, a notion that Buffy grasped onto frantically. Maybe it was a dream. A wonderfully erotic, pants-creaming, toe-curling dream. She didn't know where to fit it in, in her life, in her self-conception. She just didn't do things like that. She didn't lose self-control, and she certainly didn't lose it in the sexual arena with someone like Faith.

Buffy was exceptionally nervous going into the library that afternoon, thinking, how was she going to act normal? How could she look Faith in the face after seeing that desire and tenderness etched so clearly on it? After she had just had the best sex of her entire life in a cemetery up against the wall with, by the way, a girl.

Buffy walked into the library and instantly spotted Faith sitting at the table, combat boots propped lazily on the surface. Leather pants, short, tight, red tank top, and suddenly Buffy knew she couldn't do this. Saw a thin strip of Faith's lean stomach and wanted to do nasty, not-good things to it. She steeled herself, walked over to the table and sat down across from Faith, who was now smirking in a way like she knew exactly what was going on in Buffy's head. Which, oddly enough, did not make Buffy feel any more comfortable.

"Buffy." Giles came in from his office, and Buffy tried not to imagine his face if he knew what they had been doing last night. "Everything go alright with last night's slaying?"

"Uh, yeah," Buffy said, and looked at Faith. "Did you get any more vamps after we — uh, um ..." Crap on a stick. "Split up?" she finished lamely.

Faith raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Nah, I think we got all the action we were going to that night."

"Right. Um, yeah, it was pretty uneventful. Dull, really. Almost makes you wish for those good old days where vamps tried something more interesting than attacking little old ladies," Buffy said, in a voice that was about two octaves higher that she normally spoke.

"Last night wasn't interesting enough for you? Geez, B, I think you oughta lower your standards." Faith's smirk was slowly driving Buffy insane. Not in the least because Buffy wanted to go suck on Faith's lower lip.

Buffy glared at her. "My standards couldn't get any lower if I tried, F."

Faith's grin grew, but not before Buffy caught a flicker of something that passed across her face. Was that hurt? Did she just hurt Faith? That bothered her more than it should. She deserved it, Buffy thought guiltily, seducing me like some kind of dirty seducer. Or seductress, maybe.

"I doubt things will stay calm for long," Giles said, who had clearly heard nothing of Buffy and Faith's strange exchange, and was busy cleaning his glasses. "Perhaps this would be a good time to increase your training, be prepared for whatever comes next."

"God, Giles, pessimist much?" Buffy said, more irritable than usual in the face of rampant sexual uncertainty. "How about a nice, `Go, relax, Buffy, soak up the very rare times where you don't have to worry about the impending apocalypse, and try to rebuild your crumbling social life'?"

"Yes, well, Buffy, you don't really have the luxury of relaxing for very long. You have a calling, and that calling requires certain sacrifices -" Giles started didactically, into what was undoubtedly going to be a long speech detailing Buffy's responsibilities.

"Yeah, I get it, Giles," Buffy interrupted, sighing. "`Blah, blah, one girl, blah, no fun.' No need for speechifying."

"Or two girls, really. The more the merrier, right, B?" Faith cocked her head and sent her a shit-eating grin.

Buffy gave her what she hoped was a libido-shriveling look.

"Well, then by all means go start training with Faith, if you can't suffer to listen to my blahing," Giles said dryly, moving towards his office again.

"What? Training with — with Faith?" Buffy shot an involuntarily desperate glance towards the girl in question, who cocked her head, eyebrows raised in an innocently inquiring way that wasn't remotely innocent. "Uh, don't you think I should do homework, or something? We don't want me flunking out of school and being forced to flip burgers to support my slacker lifestyle," she said, quietly panicking and not fully understanding why. Giles ignored her completely and disappeared into his office.

Buffy realized she and Faith were alone. No one around. With a perfectly durable table right in front of them that would probably feel fantastically cool on her back ... no. Stop that. Buffy did a quick, severe mental repression. She felt a strange, complicated swoop in her stomach and coughed weakly, trying to break the taut, deafening silence. She could feel the warmth of Faith's eyes on her.

"What's wrong, B?" Faith asked, mockingly sympathetic. Buffy very reluctantly turned to look at her, attempting to be nonchalant and failing utterly. "You scared? I would be too, I guess, skinny little blonde like you trying to take me on. I'll go gentle on you, I promise." Smirk firmly in place on Faith's face, except now there was something hazardous behind it.

"Your level of confidence is just ... obscene," Buffy said, immediately regretting her choice of words.

"I'm an all-around obscene person, B," Faith responded, shrugging. "If you haven't figured that out by now, I must be doin' something wrong." She very leisurely and very purposefully drifted her eyes along Buffy's form, lingering on her chest and legs.

Buffy snorted, partly to express her exasperation, partly to hide the small, unflattering squeak that escaped her mouth. "You know what? Fine, let's go train. And by train I mean `me kicking your skanky ass to another dimension.' Lemme go change into something a little more destruction-friendly."

Several minutes later: Buffy, in sweats and a tank top, Faith, in her customary leather-filled, curvage-accentuating outfit, which Buffy was not checking out in any way, facing each other on the library floor. Both of them were in fighting positions, visually looking for weaknesses or openings. Faith, that familiar cocky grin gracing her face, took the first shot, coming out with a right hook that Buffy dodged and responded with a hard kick to the stomach. Faith was quick, a little quicker than Buffy, and blocked it. They moved into a rhythm, dancing fluidly around each other as bruises piled up and muscles weakened.

Buffy found herself hitting harder than usual, being more uncontrolled with her shots as she became increasingly and irrationally angry at Faith. What right did she have to do that? We were fine, slaying and being all unsatisfied, why did she have to go and complicate things by satisfying? This was really all her fault, she thought. With her sluttiness and ... cleavage. Of course, it didn't help that Faith looked like a beautiful, reckless machine when she was fighting.

Buffy left too many openings in her anger, which Faith took full advantage of, and Buffy realized she was losing, being backed into the library wall. Faith dodged a hard punch and slammed her shoulder into Buffy, sending her back against the wall and reminding her, at a really inopportune time, of all the good (no, not good) things that had happened recently against a wall.

And suddenly Buffy wasn't really that angry anymore, and some other foreign emotion was making its presence known. She became almost hyper-aware of her own breathing, of Faith's predatory, triumphant expression, of the proximity of their bodies, of the way she was practically drooling to run her tongue along Faith's collarbone. Her body responded on its own as she grabbed the front of Faith's shirt, reveling in the surprised, hungry look she received, and pulling her flush against her own body.

Her own lips found Faith's, one of her hands on the back of Faith's neck while her other found her ass. Buffy shoved her roughly against her own hips, and heard Faith's sharp intake of breath. Without even realizing it, she hooked one of her legs around Faith's and felt as if the space between them was miles too long. Warm tongues found each others' mouths and Faith moaned in a way that made Buffy want to have violent, nasty monkey sex.

Buffy moved her hand from Faith's ass and cupped one of her breasts through her shirt, ripping a deep, shaking groan from Faith. She felt a rush of something that was half liquid arousal and half intoxicating power. She, a girl generally inexperienced with girl-on-girl action, and she was pulling noises like that from Faith. Faith, the tough, unflappable one, the jaded "I've seen all the shit you can throw at me" Southie. Buffy sucked on Faith's bottom lip and moved her hand down to cup her through her pants, and Faith bucked her hips against Buffy's palm, gasping.

A door slammed open nearby and Buffy suddenly realized where they were. She jumped, shoved Faith away from her, and whimpered pitifully at the loss of contact. She turned her head and saw Willow and Xander entering the library, laughing and not noticing the illicit almost-sex that Buffy and Faith had just been having a second ago.

She knew she looked flushed and more than a little ruffled, and was wondering how exactly she was going to explain her appearance when she couldn't breathe. Then Buffy looked at Faith and saw her lick her lips slowly and deliberately, and almost moaned. She saw how dark and wide Faith's eyes were, how she was staring at her like she wanted to take her against any surface available and fuck whoever was watching, and she bit her lip to stop herself from doing something monumentally idiotic. What was wrong with her? She had just initiated something which would have been just a tad inappropriate in a school library.

"Hey, Buff," Xander said, completely oblivious to Buffy's inner struggle between logic and the burning desire to fuck Faith senseless. "Wil and I were just discussing whether Mrs. Milton's mole was actually proof of demonic activity." He stopped and looked at her. "I really hope you were just working out, `cause otherwise we need to seriously talk about some anti-perspirant. Maybe an inhaler."

"No — um, just training. Yeah," Buffy said in a weak, strangled voice, moving away from Faith's heated stare and desperately trying to ignore her. She grabbed the water bottle resting on the table and gulped it down more violently than she had intended.

"You guys officially have the shittiest timing ever," Faith mumbled, sitting back at the table and resuming her "I'm bored and screw everything" position.

Xander looked at her with a growing smile. "Why? I hope we weren't interrupting something naughty and sweaty and which should be described in great detail."

"Ha!" Buffy said, a little too loudly, as three pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction, one of them being thoroughly amused. "Ha. That's — that's not — ha — you know, Faith's just pissed `cause this was like the one time she was beating me. She was just getting ..." Buffy paused, aware she was about to say "lucky" and knowing that would evoke some sort of sexual innuendo from Faith. "An unusual amount of luck," she finished weakly.

Willow raised an eyebrow, apparently decided to ignore the increasing awkwardness of whatever was going on, and changed the subject. "So, what's the what with the paranormal slackage lately?" she asked, dumping her bags on the library table.

"Maybe they just realized they should get outta dodge before we beat the shit out of them," Faith said apathetically, examining her nails. Buffy tried not to stare at her fingers.

"Always such a pleasure listening to your eloquence, Faith," Giles said, re-appearing from his office. Buffy thanked all the deities she had ever known that he hadn't done that two minutes ago.

"Who knows what goes on in the minds of the slimy citizens of Sunnydale, Wil?" Buffy said, regaining a semblance of control over her brain. "I'm personally hoping that we overwhelmed them with our new strategy of half-assed strategizing."

"Ah, yes," Giles said sardonically, raising an eyebrow. "The lazy high school student approach. I believe that was one of Alexander the Great's favorites."

"Don't scoff, Giles. Stats don't lie." Buffy looked confused for a moment. "Except when they do. But they don't lie now. Vamp killings are down and we are properly proud. How about we at least try to bask, and not ask questions that have answers we're not even gonna like?"

"Basking, not asking. I second that," Xander said, raising his hand. "Now, about Mrs. Milton's mole. Me and Wil were thinking some sort of slow-growing demon fetus, `cause we swear it's expanding."

~ — ~ — ~

"God, I spend way too much time in the cemetery," Buffy mused out loud. "`Going out clubbing with your friends?' No, Mom, I'm going to swallow a pint of vampire dust and contract some undiscovered disease, right next to dead Mr. Weston."

"Talking to yourself, B?" Faith said, appearing suddenly.

"Gah!" Buffy yelled, pressing a hand to her pounding chest. "Don't do that!"

"Why not, when I like to see you squirm so much?" Faith cocked her head and gave her a lopsided smirk.

Buffy ignored the not-so-under undertones of that comment and continued walking, with Faith coming up beside her.

"You avoiding me, B? I mean, unless Red's started poppin' steroids and suddenly developed a talent for aiming, I figure I'm still your best patrolling buddy," Faith said, looking at her closely.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm just ... perfecting my solo abilities."

Faith gave her a skeptical look clearly communicating "stop the rampant bullshit," but didn't say anything. A minute later:

"So, what's on the menu tonight, girlfriend? Vampires, demons, screwing against a tree?"

"I'm — you — I don't even know how to start answering that," Buffy sputtered. "I don't think I could muster the disdain that comment requires."

They walked along in a slightly tense silence. Buffy could feel Faith grinning.

"What the hell are we doing?" Buffy asked suddenly, vehemently, stopping and turning to face her. "What am I doing?" she said in a high-pitched voice that sounded much more hysterical than she meant it to. "And what are you doing?" She pointed at Faith accusatorily, and then gestured at both of them emphatically. "And — and what are we doing — together?"

Faith raised an eyebrow, mouth forming into an unruffled smirk at her histrionics. "We got horny, we fucked. Ain't rocket science, B."

Buffy stared at her. "That's it? Horniness equals sex? No, `huh, maybe we should stop and think about this,' or, `why am I having naughty thoughts about a girl?'"

"Is that what's got your panties in a bunch? That I'm a chick?"

"One panty-buncher on a very long list. I — I don't just go around having amazing sex up against mausoleum walls with someone I've just met. I have a distinct rule against that," Buffy said, avoiding looking directly at her.

"That good, huh?" Faith asked, smiling indecently and looking exceptionally self-satisfied.

"So not the point, Faith. Pay attention to my rambling," Buffy said, trying to inject a note of stern teacher disapproval into her voice. "It's — is it just screwing?"

Faith laughed cynically. "What, you want something more? I ain't a flower and chocolates girl, if that's what you're getting at."

"I don't know what I'm getting at," Buffy mumbled, looking intently at the ground.

"Look, B. I'm gonna explain this to you," Faith said, slightly patronizingly. "We're Slayers, two of a kind. I totally get that smacking around vamps gives you that special kind of itch, `cause I got the same condition. It makes sense for us to help each other out in that area. Who cares if we're both chicks?"

"That's — that's still not really the point." Buffy glared at her. "I guess having random, meaningless sex isn't really an issue with you," she said, more coldly than she had meant to.

"No, not particularly. Why would it be? I know what I want, and I get it. Simple." Faith's mouth was growing into a tight line.

"No thought for the consequences?"

"What fucking consequences? See, they have this new thing called a condom, B. Stops a lot of those pesky complications. You should look into them."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Faith. "What if I want to think about the consequences? What if I'm not all about `get some, get gone' and ignore everything else?"

"Don't go putting yourself on a pedestal just `cause you're marching in your own denial parade," Faith said angrily. "I know what you want, B."

Faith moved fluidly into Buffy's space, putting one hand on her hip.

"Slaying gets you hot. I get you hot. And no amount of pretending is gonna make that go away." Faith cocked her head at Buffy, sneering slightly. "You know what your problem is? You think too much. Pull that stick out of your ass and loosen up. Or, better yet," she grinned dangerously, "take that stick and shove it somewhere else. See how good it feels." Faith emphasized the last part by moving closer.

Buffy shoved Faith away angrily, trying to ignore how her pulse began racing with something distinctly different from anger. "I would call you crude but that would be the understatement of the century."

Faith held up her hands in mock surrender and grinned, dimples flashing. "Fine. We gonna slay some vamps tonight, or do you just wanna keep being a self-righteous bitch?"

Before she even knew what had happened to her right arm, Buffy hauled off and punched Faith in the jaw.

"Fuck you," she spat, suddenly furious.

Faith, whose head had been snapped to the side from Buffy's punch, rubbed her chin, touched her lip and brought the tip of her finger away red. She laughed mirthlessly, gave Buffy a twisted grin.

"There's my girl."

Buffy didn't want to respond to that, so she punched her again. Faith, expecting it this time, blocked it with her forearm and let loose with a sharp left hook. Buffy stumbled back and Faith followed up by sweeping Buffy's legs out from beneath her.

Faith moved quickly, straddling Buffy and pinning her arms with her knees before Buffy had even realized she was on the ground. She looked at Buffy, still smirking confidently, and very deliberately ground her hips down against Buffy's pelvis. Buffy bit her lip and tried unsuccessfully to stop the deep groan that escaped her. Faith leaned over, her face inches from Buffy's.

"Don't play, B," Faith said quietly, her eyes bright and her face hard. "You want this as much as I do. Saying you don't isn't gonna do shit when those nasty little desires come out."

Buffy wrenched one of her arms free, shoved Faith off of her and flipped them over, reversing their positions. Faith looked unsurprised and annoyingly content to have Buffy straddling her. She placed her hands on Buffy's thighs and slowly tilted her own hips upward. Buffy glared down at her, breathing heavily, anger and desire and frustration all vying for dominance in her body.

"Why are you doing this?" she gritted out.

"Why aren't you?" Faith shot back. The other Slayer suddenly sat up, arms snaking around Buffy's waist, her face abruptly inches away. Buffy, despite her anger, felt her breath hitch.

"What are you waiting for, B?" Faith whispered. She was staring intensely at Buffy, her smile gone.

Buffy realized the answers she had for that question became irrelevant when Faith was looking at her like that.

She leaned forward and met Faith's eager mouth, hard and bruising in her anger. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth as they wrapped around each other, as Buffy's body began humming with every brush of bare skin. Faith's arms were holding her impossibly close, pressing them together as though the centimeter between them was one too many. The other Slayer's arms moved down, hands spread on the small of Buffy's back and pulled in, firm and fast. Buffy felt the pressure of Faith's lower stomach, rubbing against her through her jeans, and she groaned helplessly. They rocked against each other, searching for more friction, moaning breathlessly as they slid through each other's mouths.

Buffy abruptly recognized that the ache she felt between her legs was nothing compared to the need to make Faith feel what she had felt yesterday. It was a pure, instinctive urge — she needed to touch her.

Buffy moved her hands onto Faith's shoulders and pushed forward, lowering them down onto the ground. She stretched out, spreading her body between Faith's thighs and letting herself lie fully on top of the brunette. Faith let out a surprised huff of air as her back hit the grass, as Buffy moved her mouth to the line of Faith's jaw and tasted sweat and sweetness, as she moved her hips forward into the warm center between Faith's legs. She slid her hand down the trembling plane of Faith's stomach and snapped open the buttons of her leather pants, drinking in the other girl's small gasp. Fingers slipped into the tight space between pants and the soft fabric of Faith's underwear, stroking her gently, feeling the moisture seeping through, how damp they were already. And then Buffy froze, fully realizing what was happening.

She stopped moving her hand completely, raising her head from the comfortable dip between Faith's neck and shoulder.

Faith twisted her head to look at her, confused.

"B?" she asked, slightly breathlessly.

"I've never done this before," Buffy said in a quick rush of words, feeling her face flush with embarrassment and a thick twisting in her stomach. Great. This is fucking great. Insult her, physically abuse her, straddle her, begin to have sex with her and then, then, back off because of raging insecurities.

The lines in Faith's face smoothed out in comprehension. One of the corners of her mouth was curling up and Buffy averted her eyes, not wanting to see that contemptuous smirk.

"I want to, but ..." Buffy whispered anxiously. "I — I don't know what to do."

Faith cupped Buffy's face, turning it towards her. There was no contemptuous smirk, just a slow, easy smile. She brought their mouths together, soft lips pressed against each other in reassurance. Faith moved her hand down Buffy's arm, fingers slowly brushing against the inside of her forearm and grasped her wrist lightly, pulling it out.

"Yes, you do," Faith whispered huskily back against Buffy's mouth. Faith put her hand over Buffy's, fingers intertwining, and guided it under the elastic of her own underwear. Buffy's fingers slipped effortlessly into wet folds and they both gasped with the feeling. God, Buffy thought, almost astonished. Her fingers felt as if they were sliding into molten liquid. The sheer heat of it, the searing moisture, was pulling her in like some kind of magnetism. She slipped into Faith like a perfect pair of jeans. And she never wanted it to end.

Faith shut her eyes and tilted her head back as a shuddering growl went through her. Buffy began moving her fingers slowly, letting Faith's body lead her. She slipped a fingertip over Faith's clit and the brunette let out a whimpering moan, her legs bending and curling up around the other girl. Buffy felt the warmth of Faith's thighs around her, felt the way she was moving desperately against her palm, and experienced a roaring surge of desire. Becoming bolder, she grazed her teeth along Faith's collarbone, biting down roughly, and felt Faith's sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck, Buffy," Faith hissed, her voice cracking.

Buffy continued kissing her way up Faith's neck, biting more as she realized that Faith grew wetter when she did it. She felt the same rush she had felt in the library, that fierce revelation that she was making Faith make those noises, that she was the cause of the wet heat she was currently moving through. Faith was right — she did know how to do this. The other Slayer was losing control under Buffy's hands and mouth, and it made her feel strong, made her feel proud. She couldn't comprehend how satisfied, how aroused it made her.

Buffy followed her instincts and slid a finger inside, reaching deep, savoring the warmth and tightness that drew her in. She pushed another in and began moving in and out of Faith, drawing shuddering moans each time she thrust in, palm pressing into Faith's clit. She took her other hand and slid it underneath Faith's tight tank top, raking fingernails across her stomach muscles and sliding up to cup her breast. Faith gasped and bucked her hips violently, colliding with Buffy and causing her to moan into Faith's neck. She felt Faith's entire body shaking underneath hers, felt her shallow, ragged breathing and her hips rocking back and forth, hitting the ground.

Buffy leaned back and looked at her. She suddenly realized, and it was shocking because it was so obvious, how beautiful Faith was. Faith herself knew, probably a little too well, how hot she was, how sexy, but Buffy looked and saw a soft and vulnerable beauty that she just hadn't noticed before. Underneath her hands, Faith was just a girl, no liquid predatory gaze, no swagger, no cynical smirk, just a girl who was, by the way her gasps had become moans and her hips were rolling, reaching a happy place.

Faith snapped her eyes open as she began that steep ascent, as Buffy moved insider of her harder and quicker, and Buffy saw a soft and tender urgency in her deep brown eyes that made her heart constrict. She thrust into her one more time, her hand surrounded in that exquisite heat, and then rubbed Faith's clit between her thumb and forefinger. The brunette came swiftly with a soft, uneven cry, her eyes screwed tightly shut, her body shuddering around Buffy's fingers and her hands clutching the other Slayer's arms as if she was clinging to her. Buffy let her ride it out, still gazing at her with a profound and uncertain fascination.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. She had been furious with Faith just minutes ago — this was supposed to be angry, rough, emotionless sex, not the cause of some Faith-related epiphany. As Faith slumped limply to the ground, eyes closed, Buffy slowly took her hand out of Faith's jeans. She took her other hand and cupped Faith's cheek, moving her thumb gently over her mouth and jaw, causing the brunette's eyes to open again. Buffy leaned down and looked at her briefly, before kissing her tenderly, slowly, trying to tell her something she didn't even know herself. Mouths met and there was no battling, no urgency, just softness and warmth. When she drew back, she found Faith looking at her with an expression she couldn't place.

"B, don't," Faith said softly, jaggedly.

There was a brightness in her eyes, her tone and face almost pleading. Buffy felt something twist in the pit of her stomach.

Buffy opened her mouth to respond with something, she honestly didn't know what, and then promptly closed it as she felt that unwelcome tingle running down her spine. She snapped her head around just in time to feel a steel boot connect uncomfortably with her face. She was thrown off Faith and smashed into a nearby headstone. Buffy heard her name being called in the distance and tried to regain her bearings, ears ringing and stomach lurching. Thank God for Slayer perks, she thought, as she stood up and found her legs stable.

She saw Faith fighting viciously (look away, she thought, look away now) with one vampire, another one rapidly closing, and then turned to her right and saw another attempting to sneak up on her. He was large and distinctly smelly, blonde mullet and Kenny Chesney t-shirt barely covering his stomach.

"Sorry to interrupt your little sexcapade, sweetheart," he leered.

"Fortunately for all involved, our little sexcapade was just ending. If you wanted to have some alone time with Mr. Chesney, though, I'm sure we could take a breather," Buffy said cheerfully.

He drew up, indignant. "Kenny's got more talent in his pinky finger than you do in your entire body, Slayer."

"Oh? Can he do this?" Buffy asked innocently, and twisted her body into a roundhouse kick that sent the vampire into a tree. "`Cause I kinda doubt it. Country singers nowadays just don't have the same kung-fu moves they used to."

The vampire scrambled to his feet inelegantly, smirking. He looked inappropriately cocky for just having been thrown across the cemetery. "So, Slayer, I bet you haven't been bagging as many vamps as you used to, huh? They all seem to be running from you and your girlfriend?"

Buffy stared. "You got any useful information, or are you just babbling `cause you think your voice is pretty? Which, FYI, it's not."

"If I did, you really think I'd tell you about it? You want answers, you're gonna have to talk to the man of the town. I'm just the ignorant messenger, girly."

Buffy paused at the mention of someone pulling the strings, frowning, but then realized that the vampire really wasn't going to tell her anything.

"Yeah, well, you're about to be the ignorant pile of dust messenger," Buffy said, and let loose with another kick to the stomach.

He responded with a backhand, stronger than Buffy had expected. He was also unexpectedly fast, Buffy realized with a sinking feeling. She was barely blocking his punches. That's the last time I underestimate an overweight, mullet-sporting sleaze, Buffy thought.

She dodged a kick and took advantage of his lack of balance by slamming into him and sending him careening into a gravestone. Buffy didn't give him a chance to get up, kicking him in the face and placing her foot on his neck, pinning him. She swooped down with her stake, and was abruptly sent flying back by a well-aimed cowboy boot. Buffy pushed herself off the ground and looked wildly around for the other Slayer.

"Faith!" she yelled, and realized with no small amount of anxiety that she was completely alone with the vampire. "Dammit," Buffy hissed angrily.

She glanced around, looking for available weapons, and picked up a hefty tree branch.

"Come on, Beavis," Buffy said, keeping her voice light and swinging the branch threateningly at the leering vamp. "Let's you and me continue the vamp population's downward spiral."

Several minutes later, Buffy limped away from a considerable pile of dust. Her shoulder was stinging and her ankle had twisted trying to dodge one of his punches.

"Oh hey, Faith, let's have sex in the middle of a cemetery and then you can run off and leave me to get impaled on my own branch after an awkward moment," she mumbled irritably. "God, I wish I had normal people problems."

Chapter 6: The Stuff of Bad Indian Soap Operas

Author's Notes: Very short and possibly frustrating chapter here. But I promise that the next one will be both longer and juicier.

Buffy entered the library the next day, still limping slightly, to find Willow staring at a history textbook.

"Hey, Wil," she said tiredly.

Willow glanced up and flinched. "Wow, Buffy, you look horrible." Buffy gave her a look. "Um, okay, not the most flattering greeting, maybe. But points for candor," she said sheepishly.

Buffy sighed. "Had a rough night. Faith decided to split in the middle of a fight `cause, hey, she just wasn't being a big enough flaky ho bag."

Willow blinked at Buffy's sudden vitriol, looking at her curiously as she sat down across the table.

"You guys having Slayer issues?" she asked, and then embarked on a classic Willow-ramble. "I — I mean, not that I'd be able to contribute to an argument about — about stake sizes, or what the best move is to incapacitate an Aphed demon, or how to get a blood and vampire dust stain out of polyester, but I — I'd like to offer my services as a ventee," she finished hopefully.

Buffy gave her a weak smile, picking up on the level of insecurity Willow was essentially beaming out. "Wil, you know I'll always need your opinion," she frowned, "and possibly a bitch slap if I resort to wearing polyester when slaying."

Willow looked away awkwardly. "Yeah, I know, but — but it's just that I feel — you and Faith have this entire thing together, and I sometimes feel ... kind of apart from it," she said in a quiet, uncertain voice.

Buffy stared at her intently, making an internal decision and taking a deep breath. "Wil, I gotta be honest. If you were to become a part of it, this entire bizarro situation would reach new and terrifying levels of uncomfortable."

Willow looked taken aback and slightly offended. Buffy sighed. "There's something I have to tell you," she said.

Willow's expression turned concerned and quizzical. Buffy looked up at the ceiling briefly, saying a small prayer to the gods of Sapphic-related humiliation, and then said, in a desperate rush, "Me and Faith are having sex."

Willow blinked. And blinked again. And maintained a blank, shocked expression for ten solid seconds.

"Wil?" Buffy asked worriedly. "Was it the grammar? Okay, let me start over. Faith and I are having sex." She leaned forward, trying to catch Willow's stunned gaze. "Can you say something?"

"Something," Willow squeaked, and Buffy glared at her.

"Good to see I haven't traumatized the inappropriate humor out of you," she said flatly, and Willow gave her a small, faint smile.

"Sorry. This is, uh, just a little ... surprising," Willow said, the last word coming out uncertainly.

"Surprising?" Buffy asked incredulously. "Wil, this is the stuff of bad Indian soap operas. This is — is the premise of cheap porn, with outfits and plastic fangs!" She was almost shouting. "This entire thing is about six shrimp dimensions ahead of `surprising.'"

Willow frowned. "How did this happen?" She abruptly backtracked, looking anxious. "And — and I don't mean, like diagrams and pointing on dolls and elaborate explanations of what goes where, but you generally go for people of a more ... masculine persuasion."

"And I still do! I like to be masculinely persuaded!" Buffy said vehemently and sighed, ran a hand through her hair. "Honestly? I have no freaking idea how it happened. We were fighting and patrolling and doing normal Slayer stuff and then, completely out of the blue, she just looked so ... hot. I mean, have you seen her fight?" Willow shook her head, looking wary. "I dare you not to jump her after that. It's ... beautiful. Really," Buffy said quietly, looking away, her expression turning into one of nostalgic-type longing.

Willow was watching her intently. "Okay, so, you seemed to go to your own special place just then. It — it's not just the sex, is it?" she asked pensively, empathetically.

Buffy looked at her sharply, holding Willow's gaze for several moments and then shook her head unhappily.

"I can't tell you how much I didn't want this to happen, but it's more ... to me. God," she croaked, "I feel like I — I need her now. And that scares me so much it's not even funny."

"Well, funny-ironic, maybe," Willow contributed, and Buffy gave her a look. "Right. Not the time." She grew serious. "Why — why does it scare you so much?"

"Because it's Faith, Wil," she said plaintively, desperately. "Because I don't think the words `commitment' or — or `monogamy' have ever come out of her mouth. Like, if there was a club for emotionless one-night stands, she would be the president and CEO and high chief and possibly even captain," she said distraughtly. "I mean, I don't even really know her. I know she likes to slay and to screw and I know she doesn't dislike me, but that's it. This ... thing, whatever it is that we have — it's just a way to scratch an itch," Buffy finished hopelessly. She groaned and dropped her head down onto her arms.

"Except it's not a one-night stand with some stranger, Buff. It's you, and you guys share something that no one else can even touch," Willow said firmly, and Buffy raised her head slightly. "What if she's thinking the same thing you are? What if she's having this exact conversation with, uh ... herself? You need to talk to her, honestly. Like, lay the whole shebang out for her."

Buffy scrunched up her face. "But, that would mean not acting like a prepubescent wuss," she said unhappily.

Willow looked away thoughtfully. "You know, I'm kind of an idiot." Buffy looked at her strangely. "I'm just running through Faith-Buffy interactions in my head, and — and it becomes pretty obvious." She fixed Buffy with a contemplative gaze. "I've seen how she looks at you. How you look at each other. And those aren't googly eyes of unemotional polygamy, mister," she said sternly.

"So ... I should talk to her," Buffy said hesitantly.

"Try to inject a little more enthusiasm when you're actually talking to her, okay?" Willow suggested with a small grin.

"This should be easy, right?" Buffy began optimistically. "I mean, I've decapitated the undead. Having an awkward conversation with my gay lover who may or may not see me as just a sex object should be a piece of lesbian pie." She groaned and looked at the ceiling for some sort of reassurance. "Oh, God, I'm gonna die."

"Kinda makes you wish for a good old-fashioned apocalypse, doesn't it?"

Buffy nodded vehemently, and then gave Willow a weak, grateful smile, putting a hand on her arm. "Thanks, Wil. I — I know me and Faith have been spending a lot of time slaying — and, uh, other things — but you're my best friend. And that's not changing any time soon."

Willow grinned back at her. "I know. And I'd much rather hear about unexpected lesbian drama than study the Ming dynasty in ancient China anyways," she said brightly, and then frowned slightly. "Except that makes me sound kind of like a pervert. A gay pervert."

Buffy snorted and stood up, grabbing her bag. "It might be a close call, but I think you'll be able to maintain your chaste, nerd reputation. Oh," she said excitedly, "and if you're ever doubting your innocence, compare yourself to me and Faith screwing like rabbits in a very public cemetery."

Willow looked disturbed. "Uh, that image isn't actually helping with my pervert identity crisis."

Buffy frowned. "No, mine neither," she admitted thoughtfully, and the two girls walked out of the library.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy set off to patrol later that night with the firm plan of finding Faith and talking to her. Of course, this very well-intentioned strategy began to seem more and more ridiculous and potentially humiliating as she walked along. She's gonna laugh at me, Buffy thought. She's gonna laugh and do that sexy — no, not sexy, skanky — little smirk like she knows exactly what I'm thinking and then we're probably gonna fight and have nasty, animal sex. Goddamit, she thought viciously.

She walked far away from Faith's crappy motel and visited the cemeteries that she and Faith didn't patrol regularly. I'm not avoiding her, exactly, Buffy rationalized. I'm doing my job and that job happens to be at least 12 miles away from her. She was slightly lost in her pathetic justifications when she heard an ominous rustling in the bushes near her. Buffy snapped back to reality, grasped her stake firmly, and then slowly stepped forward.

She landed on her back as something large and snarling came flying out of the bushes. Buffy twisted her body to see what had just attacked her and froze completely.

"What ..." she croaked.

He was covered in dirt and twigs, snarling at her like he had no idea who she was. He looked feral, dangerous, the softness that she loved utterly gone from his eyes. The pants he wore were almost shredded and small cuts and bruises covered his naked chest. His face and chest were pale, their gauntness vivid and painful.

"Angel?" Buffy whispered brokenly.

Angel responded with a deep growl and launched himself at her. She instinctively rolled away and kicked out with her foot, sending him crashing to the ground. Before he could do anything else, Buffy kicked him in the head. He whimpered and collapsed, losing consciousness.

Buffy was in shock as she stared at him, this man she had loved and sent to hell. She felt a confused numbness spreading over her entire body. How? How had this happened? Angel didn't seem to have any knowledge of where he was, let alone who she was. He wasn't Angelus, she was absolutely certain of that. He looked like a wild animal, and Buffy realized she was crying silently. She sobbed as she looked at him, his muscles trembling even in unconsciousness. Buffy was only vaguely aware that rain had begun to mingle with the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Chapter 7: Roots

Author's Notes: So, as promised, here is the longer, juicier chapter. If you're contemplating my painful death, I'd like to say that the Angel thing will not get dragged out for a ridiculously long time.

She dragged him back to the mansion that he, Dru and Spike had lived in, his inert body sliding through the rain. Entering it, she felt a surrealistic rush, flashing back to the dream that seemed years ago, where he had mocked her so contemptuously, where he had attacked her. Faith, she thought suddenly, and just as abruptly buried the thought. She needed to focus on Angel. He was dangerous, she thought firmly. He needed to be contained.

A rumbling snarl of thunder echoed through the mansion as Buffy took the manacles hanging from the wall, clasped them around his thin, wet wrists and felt sick. How many times had she imagined him returning? Soft smile, arms clasped around her, utter forgiveness on both sides. They would go back to what they had before, to pure innocence and ignorance. She shuddered, hugging herself as Angel growled, waking. She had never imagined it like this.

He struggled viciously, chains clanking against each other and the grey walls. Buffy flinched every time they crashed together. There was no soft smile in this reality. What was she going to do? Tell her friends, she thought, and something inside her recoiled violently against the idea. I can't, she thought frantically. They'd try something and she wouldn't be able to defend him. Faith, she thought again involuntarily. How could she explain this to her? Faith didn't like complications. Angel was a complication. Buffy unconsciously thought of Faith's face, how she looked with that fierce, tender urgency. How she felt trembling under Buffy's hands. She shook her head angrily. This wasn't the time, she thought, and cringed again as Angel's rage surged.

Buffy wanted to deal with this herself. She needed to see if Angel could be rehabilitated, and, if he couldn't, she had killed him once. She could do it again, she told herself, and ignored how weak her voice sounded even in her head. She wouldn't tell anyone until she was sure.

"Angel?" she said softly.

He growled, didn't even look at her, and continued to struggle against his chains. She could see his muscles trembling under gaunt skin, rivulets of water coursing down his back.

"I'll come back," Buffy whispered.

~ — ~ — ~

She did the next night, carrying a container of pig's blood from the butcher's. Buffy had avoided her friends, her Watcher ... Faith. She didn't want to lie to them. She didn't want to see their faces darken with betrayal, or vengeance for some of them. Buffy had slipped out as soon as she could, and moved quickly across town to his mansion. She entered, and saw Angel slumped on the floor, looking exhausted. The chains and wall behind him had deep, violent gouges through them, and she saw his wrists were chafed and raw. Buffy approached him quietly, trying not to startle him.

"Angel?" she said softly.

He snapped his head up, lip curled in a feral snarl. She flinched, but kept walking towards him, tentatively stretching out a hand. She touched him lightly on his shoulder and he recoiled fiercely, letting out a deep, shaking growl. She felt her chest constrict tightly, felt a sob rising and clamped it down forcefully.

Buffy stepped back slowly and took the blood out of the paper bag, and Angel stopped snarling and stared at it fixedly. She opened the container and his head tilted up, inhaling sharply through his nose. Buffy saw his expression of ravenous hunger before his eyes turned yellow and his face transformed.

She hesitated a little, and then firmly grasped the blood and set it a foot away from Angel, who was growling quietly. Buffy had barely set it down before he lunged forward, his face contorted in desperate hunger, grabbed it and turned his back to her, shielding his food. She heard him gulping it frenziedly, heard sick splashes, and cringed unconsciously, both because of the imagery and the thought that he hadn't eaten for ... God, how long?

Before coming to the mansion, Buffy had slipped some books from the library, looking for information on hell dimensions. She knew time traveled differently there, knew that days had passed here while years had gone by for Angel. Potentially hundreds of years. Hundreds of years of possible torture, unimaginable pain, the gradual process of breaking an individual. Buffy didn't know if he, or anyone, could ever recover from that.

She felt utterly exhausted as she watched him. Emotionally, physically, psychologically. She felt as if her entire body had been wrung out. She didn't know what to do, who to tell, who to trust. Buffy slumped to the ground several feet away from Angel, and buried her face in her hands. She looked up to see Angel's back, weak muscles moving underneath a canvas of bruises and scrapes, his tattoo faded and discolored. She felt a noiseless sob rip through her and opened her mouth silently.

"God," she gasped, and almost didn't realize she had spoken out loud. "Angel. I don't know what to do." She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, whispered, "Why did you come back?" and felt sick.

"I can't — I have no one to talk to. They can't know you're back yet. I haven't even seen ... Faith. How can I tell her? We were ... maybe we were about to have something and now I'm lying to her." She laughed mirthlessly. "Kinda puts the whole `does she like me, does she like me not' in perspective. Who needs flowers when you have pointy weapons and secret homicidal ex-boyfriends?"

Angel had stopped moving. Buffy saw him drop the empty container of blood to the floor. He slowly turned around, the ridges and fangs gone, and there was a flash of something in his eyes. Not quite recognition, but an expression of frantic grasping, like he wanted to reach something. He opened his mouth for several seconds and Buffy inhaled sharply.

"Angel?" she whispered, a tentative hope in her voice.

Suddenly he snapped his mouth shut and let out a furious growl, his face abruptly inhuman. He began moving violently, hysterically, lunging forward towards Buffy with hungry yellow eyes. The chains smashed together threateningly.

Buffy scrambled to her feet and ran out of his mansion, legs pumping frenetically. She ran through the cemetery, vaulting over headstones, barely registering where she was. She kept hearing echoes of his frantic snarling, seeing his face devoid of humanity and softness. Buffy ran until all she could hear was the thumping of blood in her temples, the shallow breaths she was taking, the rhythmic pounding of her feet hitting the ground. She stopped finally, bending over and gasping. Sat back on her feet and inhaled deeply. She realized that she wanted to hit something. Hard.

She stood up, took out her stake, and began walking through the cemetery, all of her senses vividly attuned. She was hunting, and felt a fierce satisfaction in realizing that this was what being a Slayer was truly about. Buffy was a predator, simply and utterly. She wanted to get back to some serious roots.

A hand suddenly descended on her shoulder and she spun around instinctively with a sharp left hook.

"Jesus, B!" Faith said angrily from the ground, rubbing her jaw.

Buffy stared at her, feeling a surge of exultation. She walked forward, grabbed Faith's hand and hauled her up.

"We're going hunting, Faith," she said simply.

Faith looked at her closely, glanced down at where their hands were still clasped. "Why I'm here," she said shortly.

Buffy let her hand fall and started walking forward, her face hard. Faith caught up to her and looked at her sideways.

"So, not that I'm complainin', `cause this is fifty times better than librarian Slayer, but why're you suddenly channeling Rambo?" she asked seriously.

Buffy glared at her. "You told me to let go. I'm letting go and you're coming with me."

Faith looked uncertain. "Okay," she said slowly. "Just figured you'd take a little more persuading."

"Faith, I'm just ... I'm tired of everything being so complicated. I want it simple, and that's your catchphrase. So, help me do this right," Buffy said, her voice breaking slightly.

Faith caught the tremor and narrowed her eyes, but nodded. They started walking, scanning the graveyard. Buffy felt the prickling up her spine and for the first time embraced it. She and Faith looked at each other, the same fierce eagerness in their eyes, and began moving swiftly to the source. They came to a mausoleum, one of the windows broken, slightly muffled voices and lights inside.

"Careful!" one of the voices yelled anxiously. "You break that and you can personally tell him."

"Or, we could do it for you," Buffy said, stepping into the doorway. "Slayers come off as so much more responsible, you know?"

The vampires exchanged nervous glances. "Uh, could we maybe do this outside?" one of them asked hopefully.

Faith raised her eyebrow. "`Cause there are wicked dangerous objects in here that your boss needs for something, I'm thinking, not along the lines of building an orphanage?" She looked at Buffy, smirking. "Well, certainly wouldn't wanna put a damper on those plans."

One of the vampires growled. "Ask Lenny over there what our boss does to vamps who fail him." He pointed to one of them. "Lenny's the one without the liver, by the way."

Faith and Buffy cringed. "Good to see such loyalty in the troops," Buffy said, and punched the lead vampire in the face.

She wanted to cry at how good it felt, how viciously clear everything was when she was fighting. Her body was vibrating, her hands and feet moving without any useless emotion, without any thought of what waited in that mansion. Buffy staked her first vampire without breaking stride, dispatched the next one within seconds and flung her stake into the last one, who looked frankly relieved that this would be his only punishment.

She walked over and picked up the stake from the ground just as Faith finished her own. They looked at each other from across the mausoleum, separated only by several feet. Faith licked her lips and Buffy felt something inside her snap. She closed the distance between them in two long strides and roughly grabbed the back of Faith's head, bringing it down to hers. Their mouths, tongues, and lips collided and Buffy felt all the energy rush to the pounding ache between her legs. Faith's hands went to Buffy's hips, grabbing them desperately and pushing their bodies closer together.

Their movements became frantic. Gasps, whimpers, heavy breathing, hands sliding forcefully towards bare skin. Faith moved Buffy backwards and Buffy felt her ass hit a concrete slab in the mausoleum. She grasped Faith's arms and lifted herself up onto it, immediately pulling the other Slayer into her and locking her legs tightly around Faith's waist. Faith seized the lapels of Buffy's jacket and yanked it off her shoulders.

Faith maneuvered her hand into the tight space between their bodies, fumbling slightly with the buttons on Buffy's pants. There was a soft pop and Faith's fingers were suddenly sliding into Buffy's wetness, slipping over her clit and pushing inside of her. Buffy cried out loudly, unabashedly, arching her back and rolling her hips forward. Faith started moving in and out, and it wasn't gentle or slow. It was thrusting that made Buffy shiver and moan, that made all of the muscles in her body clench. Buffy's clit found Faith's palm and hips behind it each time she thrust in, and her body groaned with the intensity of it.

But she was aching for something more. Needed to touch, to take, just as much as she needed to be touched. While she could still control her limbs, Buffy's hands groped towards Faith's stomach, inelegantly unzipping the brunette's pants and slipping under her underwear. She followed the trembling of Faith's legs and her own fervid desires and didn't hold back, not hesitating in slipping fingers inside of her. Faith shuddered and widened her stance, giving Buffy more room even as they both leaned forward, mouths meeting roughly, deep groans vibrating through Buffy's entire body.

Buffy felt that unmistakable heat growing, fed by Faith's strong hands and the feeling of the other Slayer's warmth clenching around her fingers, and she shuddered as it expanded inside her. As Faith's fingers moved faster, deeper and she lowered her mouth to Buffy's neck and bit down, Buffy increased the pace as well, thrusting harder into her. The sheer quantity of sensations was overwhelming, dizzying. The air was swirling around her with a searing heat, a line of connection flowing between them. She looked at Faith and could see her own desire reflected, could see the start of that same inexorable climb in Faith's face.

"Faith," she said unevenly, her breathing growing ragged and shallow.

"Fuck," Faith whispered in response, and dropped her head onto Buffy's shoulder.

Buffy almost came at the sound of Faith's voice, so close to her ear and so saturated with helpless need. They were both moving at a frenetic, rough pace, curling up into each other and shivering at each thrust. Faith shifted her hand, pressed her thumb firmly down on Buffy's clit as she drove into her again, and Buffy was quite abruptly gone, her mind and body shattering. She climaxed with a broken cry, pushing into Faith once more and feeling the other Slayer follow her. They clutched at each other, buried deep inside one another, Buffy's legs wrapping around the brunette in a desperate hold.

Buffy slumped as it receded, gasping and shuddering in its aftermath. Her body felt like warm liquid, emotions and muscles loose. Sex is just the most amazing thing ever, she thought torpidly. She kept Faith close to her, reveling in the feel of the other girl's warm, lean body between her legs, still feeling the brunette's walls clenching around her fingers. Savoring how Faith was breathing into the dip between her neck and shoulder. Buffy inhaled vanilla, leather, and that uncharacteristically flowery smell.

She leaned back eventually, slowly slipping out of Faith's pants. Faith lifted her head up as well, looking at her. Buffy felt her chest constrict at the other Slayer's lips, red and full, at the dark eyes gazing back at her with a longing that resonated in her entire body. Buffy kept eye contact as she brought her own hand, the one she had just removed from Faith's underwear, to her mouth. Faith bit her lip, her expression growing darker as Buffy closed her lips in a deliberately slow motion over her fingers, gently sucking on them. She could taste Faith on them, could smell her as she breathed in, and the sensations were making her lightheaded. Faith inhaled through her teeth in a sharp hiss, the look in her eyes changing from satiated contentment to a deep, feral hunger. She watched her motions like she wanted to lick every inch of her.

Buffy leaned forward before Faith could fulfill that particular desire, her hands resting on the top of Faith's pants and reaching around to move over tight muscles just under the surface. They reached the hem of Faith's shirt and Buffy had a sudden, completely insane desire to tear it off of her. Squashed that urge firmly, and instead began to lift it slowly up. Faith raised her arms and Buffy slipped the shirt off, eyes moving involuntarily to the soft expanse of her chest and stomach.

God, she thought dazedly, and just stared at her. Eyes wandering over a firm, smooth stomach, over full breasts rising and falling, over the soft dip between hips that her leather pants barely covered. Buffy was shocked at the depth of her own want, of how agonizingly difficult it was for her not to lean her head forward and treat Faith's stomach like a popsicle. Or, never mind, she thought, and proceeded to do exactly that. She lowered her mouth to the other Slayer's abdomen, kissing softly, hands resting gently on her hips, and felt Faith shudder in response, her breath catching. When had this become not about sex? she thought confusedly. When did this become so gentle?

Buffy moved her head up and met the other Slayer's mouth with a tender urgency. The kiss was soft at first, and then Buffy's hands slid up to cup Faith's breasts and it became about need, about tongues and open mouths and short gasps. Buffy felt Faith's hands travel to her already opened jeans and grasp them firmly, pulling them down. She leaned back, tilted her hips upwards, and Faith slid them off, hands trailing along thighs. After a slight hesitation, in which Buffy reflected on the prudence of being practically naked in a cemetery, Buffy's underwear followed a similar path, tossed casually to the floor.

Faith hesitated for a moment, raking her eyes hungrily over naked thighs and hips, and then she brought her mouth to Buffy's neck and collarbone. She began kissing her way down, lifting Buffy's shirt just enough to run her tongue gently across Buffy's stomach and make her shiver. Faith's head moved further down, and Buffy suddenly realized where this was heading.

"Faith," she said, and her voice echoed shakily in the mausoleum.

"Buffy," Faith said, and she raised her head to look at Buffy. She was smirking again, but it was more gentle than cocky.

"What, uh — what are you doing?"

Faith arched an eyebrow. "Do you need a diagram, B?"

"Um, no, probably not. I just — this is kinda new," Buffy said uncertainly.

Faith smiled and said in a dark, husky voice, "Embrace change, princess."

Buffy opened her mouth to feebly protest some more, but froze as Faith kneeled and lowered her head back down. Her mouth moved over Buffy's hips, the inside of shaking thighs, coming agonizingly close to where all of Buffy's blood was rushing. Faith's head moved a little lower and suddenly her mouth was in places that mouths had not previously been. Buffy's cry was a complete shock to herself, ripped out of her as Faith's tongue slid from low to high and back again in one glorious stroke. Buffy's hips rolled forward, her hands tangled in Faith's hair, and she whimpered weakly. Her legs were shuddering uncontrollably. With her mouth still occupied, Faith slid her hands to Buffy's thighs and placed them over her shoulders.

As Faith's tongue began to focus on certain areas, moving in a slow, circular pattern, Buffy discovered that one, she needed both hands to support herself and frantically grasped the slab behind her, and two, she relinquished control over her voice in certain situations.

"Holy shit," she managed to gasp.

Buffy was almost embarrassed at the level of moaning issuing from her mouth. Her fingernails scraped the concrete chunk behind her as she tilted her head back and let out a deep, resounding groan. And, quite abruptly, Faith moved one of her hands and fingers joined the symphony that was progressing between Buffy's legs, and she opened her mouth in a noiseless cry.

Her entire body was shuddering as waves of sensations rolled over her. Hips surging uncontrollably, moving with the rhythms of Faith's mouth and strong hands. Stomach muscles fluttering, one hand moving to tangle itself in Faith's hair and grip sharply. Buffy found herself at the edge of a deep precipice in a ridiculously short time. Faith closed her lips around her clit, sucking gently on it, and Buffy gasped, hips bucking. Faith's fingers were thrusting rhythmically, moving in and out and making Buffy moan with the agonizing pleasure of it.

All she could feel was the other Slayer, her vision, her sense of surroundings utterly focused on what Faith was doing. Faith's mouth and hands suddenly began to move quicker, harder, and Buffy felt her second orgasm begin with the force of a slow-moving freight train. On fire. With little fiery tendrils stretching into each limb and transforming her skeleton into warm, gelatinous goo ... Buffy was never very good at metaphors.

She went rigid, her eyes tightly shut, and it tore through her almost painfully slow. As it reached its apogee, Buffy wouldn't have been able to say where she was, what she was doing, who she was. If someone had asked her to introduce herself, she would have been able to respond with an intelligently squeaked "Walnut?" and then would have had to go collapse somewhere. Which is exactly what happened (except for the walnut part), as she rode it out and felt her bones liquefy.

Buffy opened her eyes and realized she was on her back in the mausoleum. Faith was standing over her, Buffy's legs wrapped weakly around her, watching her with an amused smile. After several moments of recovery, Buffy propped herself up on her elbows and stared at the other Slayer in shock.

"What the jesus?" Buffy said shakily. "Where the rug-munching hell did you learn to do that?"

Faith grinned, looking very pleased with herself. "I guess I'm just naturally talented like that," she said happily.

"Don't tell me this is your first time with a girl," Buffy said, arching an eyebrow skeptically.

"No, it ain't. But there's only been a couple, B. You were the loudest, by the way," Faith said, grinning widely.

"Shut up," Buffy mumbled.

"You were -" Faith started to say, but her voice broke and she stopped abruptly.

Buffy looked at her curiously. "I was what?" she asked softly.

Faith plastered an entirely unconvincing smile on her face and said, "You were a fantastic lay, B."

Buffy glared at her, feeling as if Faith had just denied her an important moment. "That's what I've heard in my long and fruitful sexual career with two people," she said sarcastically, and suddenly remembered what had made her crave such simplicity.

She stood up abruptly and began picking up her discarded clothes, seeing Faith looking bemused in the corner of her vision. She felt vaguely as if something heavy was pressing on her chest, and felt a desperate need to continue the frenzied running she had began earlier. Angel, she thought, and almost yelled his name with frustration. So much for hunting and fucking away reality, she thought bitterly. Buffy kneeled down to grab her jeans and realized with a horrified sensation that there was a lump in her throat and tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

She sat down suddenly, still only in her underwear, and buried her face in her hands. She felt her shoulders begin to heave in uncontrollable silent sobs, and felt Faith's warm hand gently descend on her shoulder. Buffy couldn't look up, wouldn't, or else she knew that everything would come pouring out and she wasn't prepared for that yet.

"Buffy?" Faith said uncertainly, and the tentative affection in her voice made Buffy turn around blindly and cling to her. She pressed her face into Faith's shoulder and felt a terrible helplessness spread through her body. Faith seemed frozen for a moment, but then wrapped her arms around Buffy firmly and held her as she shook with sobs.

She felt a pervasive and overwhelming guilt. Thinking painfully, how gentle Faith was being. How Buffy had just used her to forget about her problems. How much she wanted to stay in Faith's arms forever and how she was lying to her. She cried and had no idea what to do. If she told Faith, would she try to hurt him? Convince her that he was a monster, had always been and would always be a monster? Could she trust her?

"Buffy," Faith said again, as Buffy's wracking sobs subsided a little. She gently drew back, grasping Buffy's shoulders and looking into her face.

"You know, B, girls don't usually cry hysterically after having sex with me. It's the guys that do that." Faith was gazing at her with an expression of such uncertain compassion that it hurt Buffy to look.

Buffy laughed weakly, wiping a hand across her cheeks. She didn't know what to say, how to start.

"I ... I guess I'm just stressed out," she said, and felt like a complete and utter asshole. She could barely look Faith in the eyes and see the disappointment etched on her face.

She needed to be more certain about him, she thought, and immediately knew that she was lying to herself. Angel was from another life. What he represented was so removed from Faith that Buffy couldn't even begin to reconcile the two. Would she have to choose? She wanted to keep them separate for as long as possible. She wanted desperately to live two lives, one with all the youth and innocence, the reassuring and familiar presence of Angel, and one with the newness and unpredictability of Faith, the excitement and delicious indecency, the frantic tearing off of clothes in graveyards. Buffy couldn't tell her yet. She had to discover unequivocally if he could recover, if she would have to choose between them.

She stood up shakily, Faith still looking at her with concern and gently holding her shoulder. There was something in Faith's expression that made Buffy ache, a resigned and deep sadness, as if she was thinking, "I should've known." I'm imagining that, Buffy thought fiercely. Faith doesn't do that. Faith doesn't fall for people, and she doesn't care what's going on with me.

Buffy grabbed the remainder of her clothes and turned to Faith.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night. You know, try to get my usual four hours of sleep," she said quietly, looking vaguely over Faith's shoulder.

"Yeah, sure, B," Faith said in a tone of forced nonchalance. "I'll do a couple more sweeps, see if there's any more lame-ass scheming going on."

"I — I'll see you tomorrow," Buffy said, and walked out, leaving Faith with clenched fists, fingernails digging into her palms.

Chapter 8: Own Little World

Author's Notes: This chapter may make some people...perturbed. Just keep with it. I promise.

One week. That's how much time she was going to give him. If there were no changes, then ... she would do something. Thinking much further than that wasn't within Buffy's abilities. She moved through classes with an oblivious numbness, alternating between thinking about the feral, naked violence of Angel's face, and the gentle, uncertain compassion of Faith, of the way her voice broke, of the way she tried to cover it up with her typical cocky indifference.

Slaying made it easier not to think, to relinquish control to instinct and survival. Buffy once again found herself eager to hunt, to feel bones break and listen to the muffled sound of dust littering the ground. She didn't want to see Faith at all. Patrolling with her would just lead to more seemingly uncomplicated sex that quickly became complicated. Buffy seemed to lose self-control around Faith after a fight. She listened to ... other parts of her anatomy that weren't necessarily the most logical.

Buffy grew restless searching the cemeteries, failing to find what she wanted, until, finally, those prickles swept through her and she ran eagerly. Four vampires. Walking, laughing, utterly unaware of the fact that they were about to become non-existent in the next five minutes. Buffy didn't even bother with the time-honored quips and sarcastic exchanges, and moved fluidly through the graves with a stealth that surprised even her.

There was a second where one of the more observant vampires sniffed the air suspiciously, and turned around just as Buffy plunged the stake into his back. He dissolved with a shocked expression, and she moved on with a reckless ferocity. Every thought, every emotion, everything that made Buffy the high school girl was subsumed under a fierce desire for hunting, for the kill. She destroyed the other vampires with a vicious efficiency, stakes plunging home one after the other. She finished with the last one and was suddenly hit in the back of the head and went crashing to the ground.

Buffy looked up, head spinning, to see three vampires she had completely missed circling her. One of them lashed out with his foot, kicking her brutally in the stomach and causing her to curl up and whimper. They fell on her, punching and kicking, not giving her a moment to gain the upper hand. She thought vaguely that she might not get out of this. Buffy put her hands over her head, curled up, and cried out as each blow rained down on her.

Suddenly, there was one less pair of feet kicking, one less pair of fists punching. And then they stopped completely. Buffy opened her eyes weakly to see a figure ripping the vampires apart. Deep, vibrating growls emanated from him as he broke the neck of the last one and bent down over to pick up the stake.

"Angel?" she said brokenly, and pushed herself off the ground.

He didn't look at her as he staked the vampire lying supine on the ground. And then he turned his head and gazed at her with an expression of such confused loss that she felt her breath stop. He recognized her. Angel walked over to her hesitantly, moving to only feet in front of her. He was gaunt, but so beautiful. She had almost forgotten how his face looked when it was soft, when he was Angel and not Angelus or that feral creature.

"Buffy?" he whispered, and her heart ripped apart.

He fell to his knees and grabbed her around the waist, clutching her as if he was drowning. She could feel him shaking. She couldn't say anything.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy left school early the next day to pick up some fresh pig's blood from the butcher's. Her mind was whirling, possibilities, reactions, futures moving through it. She arrived at the mansion and found Angel sitting on one of the jutting concrete slabs. He had found some of his old clothes and was buttoning a shirt, his hands shaking. She entered, clearing her throat, and he jumped and growled reflexively.

"It's just me," she said quietly, stopping.

He stood up and looked at her, lost.

"Buffy," he said raggedly. "I don't know what I'm doing. I feel ... is this a dream?"

"No, it's not. I don't how, and I don't why, but you came back," Buffy said, and her voice was uneven too.

"How long has it been? How long have I been gone?"

"Five months," Buffy said.

Angel's shoulders collapsed as he turned from her. "Months," he said in a soft, disbelieving voice.

She went up to him, touching his shoulder tentatively. He recoiled, let out a soft snarl. Buffy stepped back quickly, and he grabbed her arm. She shivered involuntarily at his touch, so familiar and yet so new.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I — I didn't mean to do that."

She understood. He was still in the fight or flight mindset, the instinctual purity of survival.

"I brought you some blood," she said, and took out the container from the paper bag. He reached for it, and she could tell he was trying not to show how much he wanted it, trying to repress the ferocious hunger in front of her.

"Drink, Angel. Don't hold back because of me," Buffy said firmly, and he looked at her briefly before grasping the container, ripping it open and drinking deeply. He turned slightly away from her, so she couldn't see his teeth elongate uncontrollably, or how the ridges on his forehead formed.

She walked back and sat down on one of the concrete slabs, watching him tenderly as he tried to hide himself. Angel finished, inhaled deeply, centering himself, and turned around with his face smooth again.

"I haven't told them you're back," Buffy said hesitantly.

"Them?" His face scrunched up in a frustrated effort to remember. He was looking around him, avoiding her eyes.

"Willow, Giles, Xander ... Faith," she said the last name quietly.

"God," Angel said breathlessly. "I haven't thought about them in ... so long."

Buffy looked at him, almost afraid to ask. "Did — did you think about me?"

Angel snapped his head to look at her, his expression suddenly intense and fervent. "I never stopped thinking about you, Buffy."

She inhaled sharply, felt herself falling back into the rhythm of them, of the comforting and reassuring pull. They looked at each other and Buffy couldn't tear her gaze away. Until Angel turned his head away and Buffy saw that his eyes were oddly bright.

"Who's Faith?" Angel asked a moment later, his voice steady, and Buffy almost stopped breathing.

Hearing her name from his mouth transported Buffy to a surrealistic world where they existed simultaneously. She felt her chest constrict and swallowed hard. And then promptly almost started laughing as she imagined them side-by-side, Faith with her cleavage, leather pants, swagger and predatory smirk, and Angel, silent, stoic, conservative, dark clothing, standing as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. And then she almost started crying.

"A Slayer, actually. She came here from Boston after her Watcher was killed. She's, uh, eccentric. Kind of a handful," Buffy said, a little shakily.

Angel looked at her closely, picking up on the change in tone, caught the sadness and deep underlying affection.

"I don't want you getting in trouble because of me. Don't come here more often than you have to," he said, turning away from her.

Buffy's stomach clenched. Of course he would be all noble and avoidy. Angel thrived on denial and abstinence. It was the fire to his brooding. They both knew too well what happened when things didn't stay strictly separate with them. All of her juvenile fantasies of him coming back never really dealt with this part.

"Yeah, of course," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "I should, uh, get back to Giles. He worries if I'm not there to mangle the English language enough."

Angel twisted his head and looked at her steadily. Buffy turned around and began to walk out, and it was only through Slayer senses that she heard him say quietly, "I missed you."

~ — ~ — ~

The next week passed by in an interminable haze of avoidance, denial, and confusion. Buffy visited the mansion whenever she could, even if they interacted with each other in a painfully awkward way reminiscent of 7th grade school parties. There was still so much between them. Love, lust, heartache, causing each other unimaginable torment, killing off each others' friends, the list grew increasingly strange. They believed, at least on the surface, that they would be able maintain a platonic relationship. A belief that was challenged whenever they got within five feet of each other.

Buffy found herself utterly torn. Angel or Faith. Vampire vs. Slayer. Sex = lost soul and homicidal tendencies vs. sex = miraculous pleasure, nasty urges, torn clothing. They were both so vibrant in their own ways, so painfully beautiful. She ached to think of Faith's disappointed sadness, of Angel's broken eyes. So many thoughts and emotions were careening through Buffy's body.

She had been studiously avoiding Faith and the others, and they were beginning to notice. She stopped by the library for a hasty, "Hi, everything's good. I'm going patrolling," and then practically ran out. Buffy knew she was going to have to come clean about Angel, but that was a conversation that needed excessive amounts of mental preparation and possibly a crossbow.

Guilt became a pervasive, ubiquitous presence in Buffy's mind. She thought about Faith, about that aching tenderness that revealed itself, about how much she wanted to spend the night in a bed and not on a concrete slab in a mausoleum, about that cocky smirk that infuriated her. And then she thought about Faith's cynicism, that bitter expression that looked like it belonged on a 75 year-old spinster who cursed the world. Thought about the sardonic laugh that preceded, "I ain't a flower and chocolates girl." The other Slayer became a constant, almost reassuring ache in her chest, grounding her, reminding her of a life outside Angel and their secrecy.

Buffy slipped off one night later in the week to the mansion, carrying her usual offering of pig's blood. Angel was reading on one of the couches that had been manufactured out of apparently thin air, and he looked engrossed and serious. He glanced up as Buffy entered, though, and his face lit up, or as lit up as it could be in his repressed, weak condition.

"Buffy," he said, and she quietly marveled at hearing her name from his mouth.

"I come bearing O positive," she said, trying to inject a note of cheerfulness into her voice and handing him the paper bag.

"You were able to get here without any trouble?" Angel asked. He seemed to ask her this every time.

"Pretty much. Although my diversion of burning down a school classroom may be frowned upon."

He didn't smile, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and then went back down as he thought about what she had said. "That — that was a joke, right?"

She gave him a look.

"Well, you have burned down school buildings before," he said monotonously. Sometimes Buffy thought Angel actually had a sense of humor.

"Why does everyone feel the need to bring up that tiny little mistake constantly? It was a strategy. A well thought-out, carefully planned strategy. Which went horribly wrong through no fault of my own," she said defensively.

Angel walked over to the fireplace, staring into the lack of fire.

"How are you doing? You know, with life in general," he asked, his back turned.

She stared at him. How to even begin answering that question. Gee, Angel, my life revolved around patrolling and having rampant lesbian sex in public places. And then you came and made everything so confusing and now I'm torn between you and Faith, who, incidentally, has no confidence in humanity, me, or herself, and might only be in this little relationship for the screwing. Oh, and I don't even know what it is that you and I have. Buffy looked down at her shoes for inspiration and, shockingly, found nothing helpful.

"I'm doing okay. My life ... it's pretty confusing right now. Lots of things going on," Buffy said hesitantly. "It feels kind of like all these objects and people are orbiting my brain and pulling me in different directions."

Angel was silent for a moment. "I'm not helping things, am I." It wasn't a question.

"Angel, no. I want you here. Having you here, now, is incredible. I — I never thought I would get you back," Buffy said, and her voice broke.

Buffy realized vaguely that, up until now, they had been intentionally or subconsciously avoiding any conversation about the past. No mention of where he was, what had happened, how much everything had hurt. No talking about emotions, either, as if they clung to an unrealistic hope that ignoring their turbulent past would cause it to disappear.

He turned around, gazed at her with a somber expression, and began walking towards her in that slow, loping pace. In some ways, it made him look young, like a normal guy and not a 250-something vampire. Though his eyes, deep, fervid, and soulful (there's that ever-present word) betrayed his age, his experience, the intense ambivalence both of them were feeling. Exposing that sensation of something between them moving just underneath the surface, struggling to get out and destroy whatever illusion of peace they had cultivated.

"But I'm not back," Angel said, stopping several feet away, hands in his pockets. "I'm not sure if I'm even staying. Buffy, you're about to graduate high school. You're going to leave Sunnydale and I don't want to stand in your way." His voice wavered a little.

Buffy strode forward without even thinking about it, grasping his arm.

"You're not standing in my way. And I'm not ready for you to leave — you just got here." The last part came out in a desperate rush.

They looked at each other. Buffy suddenly realized how close they were, how she could feel his skin underneath her hand, and how long it had been. Her breath caught. And, quite abruptly, Angel closed the distance between their mouths and they were kissing. Buffy's brain temporarily shut down as she felt his cool, familiar lips, his long arms wrapped around her. She felt her own arms reach up to him automatically, grasp the back of his neck as the kiss deepened.

And then she realized what exactly was going on. She let go of him, pulled back, and saw his face looking confused, lost, guilty. She stepped back slowly.

"That — I'm sorry, Buffy. That wasn't supposed to happen," he said shakily.

"No, um, not really. Not like I stopped you, though," Buffy said softly. She realized how entrenched they had become in their little world. She felt overwhelmed, and knew suddenly that she couldn't pretend anymore. She had to tell them, she had to tell him.

"Angel," she said suddenly. "I — I may have something with someone ... else."

He looked sharply up, his eyes blazing hurt and jealousy. Buffy saw him clamp down on the emotions fiercely, and his eyes grew soft again.

"You need to know. I can't just forget about them," she continued unevenly. "It's — uh — this person is special to me, and I'm not being fair to either of you."

Angel looked at her steadily.

Oh, God. Buffy took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and looked at the ceiling briefly. "It's Faith."

He blinked. "Faith. The other Slayer?"

Buffy nodded weakly. "It wasn't something planned or something I was looking for. It just kind of happened."

"Faith ... is a girl," Angel said uncertainly.

"Um, yes?" she squeaked lamely.

"That's — uh — that's new. A little unexpected."

"You're telling me," Buffy mumbled, and looked at him intently. "Angel, you have to know that I — I'm just so confused right now. I love you," she said, and realized she hadn't said that to him since she sent him to hell. "I will never stop loving you. But, we — we're not so stable. Of course, neither is she," she added as an afterthought, frowning, but then shook her head sharply and continued. "I feel so attached to both you and her, and I don't know what I'm doing. I know that seeing you, that being with you is wonderful, but I miss her."

Buffy stopped abruptly and realized how startlingly true that was. She missed Faith. God, how she missed her. She missed her complete rejection of social boundaries, her cocky little smirk, how she looked like an unrestrained, fluid machine when she fought. She missed her hands, her fingers, her lips, her eyes that projected such arrogance, but that softened when she was writhing under Buffy's hands. She missed her constant sexual baiting, how her body felt pressed up against her, how patrolling had been so insipid, so unexciting since she had begun avoiding her. Buffy wanted to strip all those layers, all those stupid pretenses and cynical assumptions and find out what Faith truly was.

Angel had been watching her closely as all this was rampaging through her head.

"You're in love with her," he said softly, a current of a suppressed, deep hurt underneath.

Buffy blinked. "Um." She felt her eyes widen. "God, I hope not."

Angel gave her a soft, sad smile that made Buffy's heart dissolve into a puddle of goo.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Faith is ... complicated. Well, I mean, she's not really the type to reveal emotions, or have relationships, or not flirt with anything with a heartbeat, or wear anything other than a hooker outfit, or not resort to violence when she's uncomfortable -" Buffy stopped, realizing she was rambling.

"She sounds, uh, interesting. Kind of like this one vampire I knew in the 19th century." He looked away for several moments, lost in some distant memory.

Buffy looked at him. "I have to tell them, Angel. I have to tell her and them that you're back."

Angel nodded in gentle understanding. "I know."

"If they try anything ... I promise I won't let anything happen to you," she said fiercely. He just looked at her.

Buffy walked out of the mansion, feeling anxious but, ironically, lighter than she had in days. No more secrecy. She was going to face whatever firing squad they threw at her. She was going to show Faith that not all humans were drunken assholes, that she could let go of those engrained beliefs a little.

Chapter 9: Disillusionment

Author's Notes:

Buffy moved swiftly to the school. She wanted to do this now, or else she would find some other pathetic justification not to. She was almost eager.

She walked into the library and froze. All of her friends were sitting at the table, and they looked up when she entered. Buffy looked at Giles and Xander, saw deep disappointment, anger, scorn. Looked at Willow and saw compassionate anxiety, hurt. Oz and Cordelia were simply watching her.

"Buffy," Giles said, and she could barely stand the depth of disillusionment in his voice.

"Giles." She looked at him a little frantically. "I came here to tell you all something."

"We already know," Xander said, his tone short and clipped. "Your boyfriend, you know, the one who terrorized the town for oh, half a year, killed people, made our lives a living hell, is back." Buffy had never heard his voice laced with such bitter anger.

"And you conveniently forgot to tell us, huh, Buff? Decided that you would keep him your dirty little secret, see how much destruction he could do without us knowing?" Xander continued, his voice getting progressively louder.

Buffy felt her stomach twist violently. "What — how did you find out?" she asked quietly.

"Faith saw you together," Xander spat. "Gave us a description and then we checked it out for ourselves."

Her insides, previously feeling like a plumbing job gone wrong, suddenly dissolved. No, no, no, she thought desperately.

"Where is she?" she asked, too loudly, too urgently.

"She decided to not participate in this little intervention. Can't imagine why. I'm actually looking forward to your rationalizations. See what reasons you made up in your head about why you kept a dangerous, homicidal animal and didn't tell us." Xander was talking again, sardonically and then simply furious. Willow and Giles weren't even looking at her.

Buffy stared at him, feeling her anger rising. "I didn't tell you because I was afraid of this exact reaction. You don't understand. You didn't see him. I had to make sure -"

"That you two could screw without us knowing?" he interrupted bitterly.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "How dare you," she said intensely, quietly. "How dare you pretend that I didn't go through hell and back when he — when he changed. How could you possibly think that we would repeat that? Do you think I want that again?"

"Faith — she said she saw you kissing him," Willow said in a quiet voice, looking up at her, hurt, anxious, and a little sympathetic.

"What?" Buffy whispered weakly, and wanted to suddenly curl up.

"Buffy." Giles suddenly spoke. "You deliberately ignored the danger of this situation. You put yourself, us, and the entire town in danger by even interacting with Angel again. Your actions were self-centered and irresponsible." He was glaring at her with equal parts anger and betrayal.

"Did you just decide to forget what had happened? How he threatened you, your mom, all of us? How he killed Ms. Calendar?" Xander asked angrily, and Buffy saw Giles flinch.

"No! Of course not!" she yelled back. "He came back wild — he didn't know who he was, who I was, anything. I had to make sure I wouldn't have to ... I had to make sure he could be himself again."

"And you couldn't tell us about it?" Willow asked, sounding injured. "We could have helped. You didn't have to do this by yourself."

"Of course she did," Xander said acrimoniously. "Buffy's the Slayer, right? She doesn't have to consult us lesser people when she makes decisions." He glared at her, his eyes bright and narrow. "Forgetting, of course, the mess you left for us last time you decided to play house with Angel."

Buffy felt as if she'd been slapped. "The mess I left for you? Tell me, Xander, please, since my memory just isn't what it used to be, how helpful you were when this happened. Did you stop the world from being sucked into hell? Did you do anything but be a jealous 12 year-old boy?"

Xander stood up so quickly from the table that his chair overturned, and faced Buffy.

"I didn't choke when I had the chance to kill him," he said, dangerously quiet.

Buffy stepped forward, closing the distance between them, feeling her stomach clench at his words. His eyes flashed and Buffy was two seconds away from hitting him in the face.

"Enough!" Giles yelled. Cordelia grasped his arm and Xander shrugged her off, still staring at Buffy.

"Xander, don't be an idiot. Buffy could kick your ass in 13 different directions," Cordelia snapped.

"Xander, sit down." Giles pointed firmly, and Xander angrily picked up the chair and sat down in it. "Buffy, just go. We'll have to talk about this later. We need to discuss what we should do about Angel," Giles finished wearily.

Buffy stood, feeling adrenaline and anger coursing through her, and abruptly turned around and walked out. Her fists were clenched, fingernails digging into her palms as she thought about what Xander and Giles had said. She shouldn't have kept him a secret, she knew that. But what Xander had yelled, accusing her of forgetting everything that had happened, of forgetting how painful that time was, of forgetting Giles' face as he collapsed, shaking with grief and rage. No, she could never forget that.

Faith, she thought. And suddenly all of the rage inside her dissolved, replaced by desperate anxiety. God, she saw us kissing. How was she going to make this right?

Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around. Willow was standing there, her face contorted in concern, apprehension, and Buffy was intensely relieved to see, empathy.

"Are you okay?" Willow asked quietly, and Buffy felt something inside her let go, and began to cry. Willow pulled her into a firm hug and held Buffy as she shuddered.

"God, Wil, I'm so sorry," she managed to gasp. "I — I had no idea what to do. I should have told you. I should have told everyone."

"Well, yeah," she said gently. "But, we all do not so intelligent things sometimes. Part of the human packaging."

Buffy stepped back and looked at her, wiping her cheeks violently. "What — how did she look when she told you?"

Willow didn't have to ask who Buffy was talking about. "I honestly couldn't say, Buffy. Faith isn't exactly an emotional billboard, you know. I mean, she was angry, but also trying really hard to hide it and do the whole indifference thing." Willow looked down and said the next part in a quiet voice. "I think she was really hurt."

Buffy clenched her fists tightly. "How could I do this? To her, to you, to everyone. It all seemed so logical when I thought about it." She snorted bitterly. "Funny how that works."

"Buffy," Willow said, grasping her shoulder. "I've known you for a while now, and I know that you don't do things unless you believe they're the right thing to do. And, in my humble opinion, you've got a pretty darn good moral compass."

"But, it just used to be so simple. Right, wrong. Good, bad. You remember?" Buffy asked plaintively.

"Uh, no, not really," Willow said, frowning. "Would this be before or after your vampire with a soul boyfriend lost aforementioned soul and began ravaging the town? Or maybe when I got my own brand spanking new boyfriend who happens to try to eat me once a month? Or when Xander started dating Cordelia?" Willow paused. "Actually, that last one isn't even morally ambiguous. It's just wrong."

Willow shook her head and continued. "My point being that nothing's simple. There are very few things in this world that can be just plopped into one of those categories. You and Angel, you guys pretty much span the entire spectrum."

"Yeah, we're extra special like that," Buffy muttered unhappily.

"I don't blame you for wanting to keep him a secret. You were confused and torn and I myself am familiar with the less than logical feelings that guys can bring out. But I trust you, Buffy. And whatever poopy-head things came out of Xander's big mouth today, he trusts you too."

Buffy smiled weakly.

"Anyways, what are you standing around talking to me for? You have a temperamental, emotionally stunted Slayer to woo. Go woo." Willow pointed at the door.

Buffy blinked and then sighed. "Right. Because my self-esteem just hasn't been obliterated enough."

Willow gave her a sympathetic smile. Buffy took a deep breath and, after squeezing her friend's hand one more time, she walked out the school door.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy strode purposefully towards Faith's little motel. What was she expecting? Anger, denial, indifference? Did she even truly know that this would bother Faith? Did she imagine all those little moments of exposed tenderness, of gentle touches and deep brown eyes? And then, if not, if there actually was something between them, or at least the potential for something, how would she explain Angel? There were too many if's, too many questions stampeding through Buffy's mind.

She suddenly found herself in front of Faith's door, in front of peeling paint and the unpleasant aroma of unwashed bodies and garbage. Why did she let Faith stay in this crappy motel, anyway? She shook her head. Focus on what you're going to say, she told herself. Maybe if she doesn't punch you or completely ignore you, you can invite her over for tea, crumpets, and sex that doesn't involve mausoleums.

Buffy took a deep breath and knocked. Her heart was pounding erratically as she heard shuffling behind the walls. It swung open and Faith stood there, looking coolly indifferent. Buffy realized she hadn't seen her in a painfully long time, and had an irrational and probably fatal urge to hug her. Faith's eyes narrowed slightly as she saw who it was.

"B," she said shortly.

"Uh, Faith," Buffy started uncertainly. "I — I just wanted to see how you were. Doing. After what happened. After you saw, uh, what happened."

Faith continued to look at her, slightly raising an eyebrow. "Five by five. Figured you and your little posse would want some time to work out the drama."

"Yeah, there was definite drama. And shouting and possible violence. I could see how you might wanna avoid that," Buffy said, keeping her voice light but staring at Faith intently, trying to see what emotions lay under the surface. There were several moments of silence following her awkward sentence.

"Did you want anything else, B?" Faith asked flatly.

"Yes," Buffy said, suddenly more resolute. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out about Angel like that. And I didn't want you to see ... what you saw."

Faith kept looking at her, her face neutral. "Whatever. You don't have to apologize. Not like we're best buds or anything. I don't expect you to tell me everything."

Buffy stared at her blankly. "What? Yes, we are, Faith. We're friends. I should have told you."

Faith laughed shortly. "Are we? I don't have friends, B. I got fuck buddies, potential fuck buddies and people that I wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole. That's about it." There was a suppressed emotion underneath her voice that Buffy couldn't identify.

"You have me, Faith," she said quietly. "I know you don't trust me right now, but I want you to."

"Doin' a real good job convincing me of that," Faith said in a sardonic voice, head cocked.

"I know," Buffy said quietly, looking down. "I should have come clean. I — I just didn't know what to do. And I'm sorry you saw us like that, saw us ... kissing." She said the last part hesitantly.

"Why?" Faith narrowed her eyes, smirked at her. Buffy looked back at her apprehensively, and didn't know what to say. "`Cause you thought it would hurt me or some bullshit like that?" she continued harshly, smiling a twisted grin. "We screwed a couple of times, B. Doesn't mean we're getting married. I don't give a fuck who you sleep around with."

Buffy felt her something in the pit of her stomach wrench, and knew her face betrayed her emotions.

Faith gave another mirthless laugh, leaned casually against the door frame. "Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, princess. I got horny, you were there. End of story."

Buffy stared at her, felt something inside her crumbling. "I was there?" she asked weakly. "That's it? We slept together because I was — what, the most convenient?"

"Pretty much," Faith said nonchalantly.

Buffy didn't trust herself to say anything else.

"Is that it? We done here?" Faith asked indifferently, and before Buffy could answer, she shut the door in her face.

Buffy stood there, staring at the closed door for several moments. She felt like her heart was shattering into tiny little pieces. Her stomach was trembling, her hands closing into fists. She didn't want to start crying. It felt as though that's all she had been doing. She needed to keep it together. Faith had told her, pretty bluntly, that nothing was there. She had to accept that, Buffy told herself firmly, and her heart continued to splinter.

She began to turn around and walk away, but suddenly froze. She could hear something, muffled and faint behind the door in front of her. Buffy walked closer, carefully, noiselessly, and softly pressed her ear up against the door. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, as she realized what she was hearing.

Crying. Faith was crying. Sobbing, actually. She heard her taking deep, shaking breaths, trying to repress each sob before it came through. She heard cries, raw and hoarse, ripped from Faith's throat, and the emotional nudity of them felt like a punch to the stomach. Buffy heard a loud thump and thought that Faith had just put her fist through the wall. She thought her heart had been breaking before, but that was nothing compared to what it was doing now.

She had never felt so helpless in her entire life. She had never felt such self-loathing, either. Nothing she could say to Faith right now would make any difference. Nothing she could say would convince Faith that she cared about her, that she made a horrendous mistake and was sorry. The emotions inside of Buffy had no outlet, and she felt them and their uselessness acutely. God, what had she done? She had pushed Faith that much deeper inside her carefully constructed persona, the girl who doesn't need anyone else, who thinks she rises above, who sees relationships as simple avenues for power. She had just proved all of her cynical assumptions.

There would have been something, Buffy was sure of it. If Angel hadn't ... if she hadn't kept him a secret, was truthful, there could have been something eventually. It would have been a long time coming, she didn't fool herself. Faith didn't give things up easily. Before this, they had existed in that middle state, between friends and something more. Buffy had pushed it out, forced Faith to confront it much too early, and she had lost something important. There was such a painful instability to Faith, such a precarious, coiled energy. It hurt Buffy to look at her, and see those uncertainties manifest, see how impetuous she was, how dangerously insouciant.

Buffy stood listening at the door for several minutes, hearing Faith taking huge, gulping breaths of air before breaking down again. She heard another thump, softer this time, and imagined Faith sliding down her bed to the floor. Buffy felt sick. She walked away quietly and tried to ignore the fierce lurching in her stomach.

Chapter 10: There's This Bridge and a Whole Lot of Water

Author's Notes:

Buffy needed to talk to someone. She went to school the next day looking like she had just rolled out of a movie about junkie insomniacs. She needed a different perspective, or advice, or just something else to think about.

She saw Xander in the hallway, getting books out of his locker, and hesitated. Buffy took a deep breath and experienced an unpleasant moment of dИjЮ vu, flashing back to preparing herself before knocking on Faith's door. Hoping the outcome of this confrontation would be slightly better, she walked up to him. He turned around and looked at her steadily.

"Hey," she said quietly.

He nodded in a silent greeting.

"I need to apologize to you. I should have told you. I shouldn't have gone all Buffy-general and made the decision myself. You were right," she said firmly.

Xander looked down at his shoes for several moments and then glanced up, his eyes soft.

"Yeah. I'm sorry too, Buff. I was being an ass yesterday. You didn't deserve the things I said." He sighed. "Just — hearing he was back, I got a little crazy."

Buffy smiled. "Think I'm a little familiar with that arena. Angel kinda turns my head into illogical mush. Usually doesn't turn out too well."

They looked at each other in silent acknowledgment and forgiveness, and began walking down the hall.

"So. You look terrible. Do you not understand the whole `doctor-recommended 8 hours of sleep' thing?" he asked, looking at her with a concerned expression.

"I just couldn't get to sleep. Thinking too much about things. You guys and Angel and ... other stuff."

"Yeah, what is Angel gonna do anyways?" Xander asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Buffy glanced at him sideways. "He doesn't know yet. He might be going somewhere else, actually. Not staying here."

Xander looked surprised. "Thought you guys would be getting with the non-pelvic snuggling. Epic Shakespearean love and all."

"You ever notice how all the couples in those plays die, or poison themselves, or suffer some other horrible fate?" Buffy asked.

"Well, not a great analogy then."

"Actually, it's probably appropriate. I — I don't think Angel and I can work. There's this bridge and a whole lot of water, and it's too dangerous, and too painful, and too, uh, abstinent."

Xander grinned at her. "Red-blooded woman like yourself can't be expected to squash those natural urges."

She smacked him. "Not exactly what I meant. Abstinent in general. We would have to be so ... cautious. About everything. Sunlight, sex, wooden objects, getting too emotional, alarm clocks -"

Xander gave her a curious look.

"We keep different hours — side effect of the creature of the night thing," Buffy explained. "Alarm clocks and I have never had a very positive relationship anyway."

"Ah, yes. Who needs doomed love when you can have tumultuous affairs with electrical objects?" Xander said, putting his hand over his heart and gazing into the distance.

Buffy paused. "That could be taken completely wrong." She caught herself and added hastily, "If your mind went to perverted places that my mind never goes near."

"My mind can swim those murky waters enough for both of us."

Buffy glanced at him, inwardly took a deep breath. "Also, I — uh, I might have someone else."

Xander gave her a knowing look. "Scott, huh? He's a little ratty, don't you think? Kind of small and twitchy." He demonstrated by wiggling his fingers in front of his face.

"Yeah, he's a little rat-like, but no, it's not him," she said nervously. They continued walking, Buffy trying to desperately snatch at the last vestiges of her courage.

"Well don't keep me in the dark here, Buff," Xander said finally. "Who's the lucky guy that's stolen your heart from tall, dark, and sun-deprived?"

"It's Faith," she said quickly and very, very quietly.

Xander raised an eyebrow, looking confused. "Unless the threshold for normal hearing just plummeted, you're gonna need to speak a little louder."

"Faith," she said, and realized it had come out far too loudly as several people turned around and looked at her.

Xander stopped walking completely. He was staring at her.

"Um, I may have fallen asleep and started dreaming inappropriate dreams. Did you just say `Faith'?"

"Maybe," Buffy said anxiously.

"Faith as in Faith? As in another girl with girly parts? As in naughty touching?" His voice had reached a high-pitched, slightly hysterical tone.

Buffy looked around wildly, seeing more people turning around curiously. She grabbed Xander's forearm roughly and dragged him into an empty classroom.

"Okay, if you're done with the teenage boy theatrics, could you stop mentally masturbating and listen to me?" she whispered fiercely.

Xander shook his head violently. "Yeah, I'm here. Wait, hold on a sec." He looked off for several seconds, then snapped his head back. "Okay, back, here for good, fully prepared to be the sensitive and caring friend."

Buffy glared at him. "Good." She glanced away and started pacing around the classroom, wringing her hands.

"I hurt her," she said abruptly. "She's all with the nonchalance and `I don't need people or human interactions or anything resembling normal emotions,' but I heard her — she was crying." She looked at Xander desperately.

"I hurt her." Buffy felt as if the hole in her chest just reappeared. "I hurt her and it makes me feel like throwing up. I mean, I made Faith cry. That's — that's like against all the laws of God and man. It's like if Oz just up and became one of those cheesy motivational speakers, or — or joined the cast of Rent."

She ran a hand through her hair distractedly. "We had — well, not a relationship, but maybe something that could have become a relationship. More than just screwing after patrolling, you know?"

Xander's eyes became abnormally large, but he held his hormones in check.

"And then she saw Angel and me kissing. And I confronted her and she shut me down completely." Her mouth grew tight as she made a cutting hand motion. "All, `I don't care about you, I got horny, you were there,' Faith avoidy denial stuff. But, we had these moments. These moments where she looked at me and that other Faith was gone and it was just her. And I knew — I knew she felt something." Buffy stopped pacing and stared at Xander plaintively. "I made her go back into that shell. I just crushed all those hopes of whatever we could have had."

Xander looked at her firmly. "I think you're giving yourself too much credit, Buffy. Faith's been in that shell for a very long time. Maybe you were drawing her out, maybe not. Or maybe, whether or not there might have been something, she couldn't handle it." His eyes were gentle, concerned. "Maybe she just used this as an excuse to shut it down because she couldn't deal."

Buffy stared at him, her mind whirling. "Why the hell would she do that?" she yelled suddenly. "Doesn't she have normal people feelings? Doesn't she want something ever that's more than rough sex in cemeteries?"

"How rough?" Xander asked before he could help himself, and abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth. "Not the issue, obviously," he said, taking his hand gingerly away. "Faith is a rare and delicate creature, Buff. She's got this `too cool for school' image, but she's more fragile than any of us. If you think this can happen, she needs you to do it for her. Push until you cannot push anymore, and then keep pushing." He frowned. "There's a really obvious joke involving bathroom humor in there, but I ain't touching it."

Buffy looked at him in mild shock. "Apart from that last part — how did you get so sensitive and observant?"

"It's one of my well-kept secrets. It would ruin my unflappable manly image if it got out." He gave her a lopsided smile.

She shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do without you and Wil."

"Probably regress into some sort of cave-Slayer." Xander grinned. "You know, grunt and hit people over the head with clubs. We keep you violent types civilized."

Buffy smiled with him and then glanced at the clock on the classroom wall. "Oh, crap. Because my life just doesn't suck enough right now without asymptotes," she grumbled as they opened the door and began walking down the hall again. "And, why exactly is that `p' silent? Did all the math nerds in the world just join a massive conspiracy against the English folk? Sort of a, `Ha, ha, you don't own us and anyway our language is more universal than yours' thing?"

"That's a distinct possibility. Have you seen the people in the math department? They're terrifying. Like warriors. I'd say that nerds are supposed to be more timid, but I saw that movie. A cornered nerd is a vengeful nerd," Xander said, shaking his head.

~ — ~ — ~

The next couple of weeks were a living hell for Buffy. While her relationships with Willow and Xander remained strong, there was a shaky tension between her and Giles. It physically hurt Buffy every time Giles said something to her a little harsher than he usually would, or gave her a look bordering on cold. She understood why. Giles had a more turbulent past with Angel than anyone else besides Buffy. Epic torturing, murdering of significant others in gruesome and merciless ways, threatening those he loved dearly. She knew it would take time, but he would forgive her.

Faith, however, was a completely different matter. They were still patrolling together, but much less frequently and with much more awkward silent tension. Buffy would try to make conversation, carefully keeping it within the shallow realm, but Faith would answer with monosyllabic, apathetic grunts. Buffy flashed on Xander's words about cave-Slayers and found them ironically applicable. On most nights, Faith would split after only twenty minutes of feet-shuffling and uncomfortable throat-clearing, and go to a different cemetery. If they did come across some undead citizens, one of them would mysteriously disappear after the slaying.

There were more than a few times that Buffy saw her at the Bronze, grinding with some random guy or girl and then hauling them off to a more private location. It made her heart feel like it had been put into a meat grinder, and she generally had to mumble some sort of excuse to Willow and Xander's concerned faces before running back home and trying desperately not to cry. She tried so hard to talk to Faith, to drag her back into the sphere of social interaction and casual banter, but Faith would barely even look at her. Buffy had no idea how she was going to make anything resembling progress in this Operation Mollify and Pursue Faith.

"I'm leaving soon," Angel said suddenly one Thursday afternoon.

Buffy stared at him, her hands tightening around the familiar paper bag. "What? Why?"

"Buffy," he said firmly, looking at with her soft eyes. "We both know you're the only reason I'm staying here. But I'm just confusing things. It's not good for either of us."

She felt her brain working frantically to come up with excuses. "But, no, it's good. No confusion. Confusion-free." Her voice squeaked at the end and she stared at him desperately. "We're friends, and I like you being here."

"We're not friends. We both want something that can't happen. And -" he paused, looking away from her. "It's painful to be around you."

Buffy felt her heart wrench.

"I don't mean to hurt you, Buffy. That's the last thing I want to do. But, me leaving is what we both need. You have a shot at a normal life here. You have a shot at a ... relatively normal relationship."

Buffy snorted, regaining her voice. "Yeah, normal." She looked at him plaintively. "My life will never be normal, Angel." She scrunched her face up in regret, guilt. "I'm just being selfish ... aren't I? I think you're right. I'm keeping you here when it's not fair for either of us. Having you here, it's just — reassuring."

She walked over to him. "I don't want to lose you again," Buffy said in a quiet, pained voice.

He looked at her, eyes bright. "You're not losing me. I'll be here when you need me." He turned his head away. "I'm not leaving today or tomorrow. I'm not sure exactly when, but I thought you should know."

"Where are you going?" she asked hesitantly.

"L.A.? Or maybe somewhere else that's not a blazing, sunny desert." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "I don't really tan well."

"Yeah, funny how they haven't made sun block for vampires yet. They could make a fortune."

Angel paused for a minute, turning around and walking away. "How — um, how's Faith?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Impressive attempt at not caring." She sighed. "She'll barely look at me." She looked at him skeptically. "Angel, you don't want to hear about my relationship difficulties."

"Well, no, not really. But I do care if you're happy or not. Can — can she make you happy?"

"She can make me desperately unhappy. Does that count?" Buffy said, a little bitterly. "Who the hell knows? Maybe if she could pull her head out of her ass for more than two seconds, and see what's in front of her."

Angel gazed at her for several moments, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Can I stop being all noble now?"

Buffy grinned. "Sure. Give into those petty jealousies, Angel. You're only hum — uh, you're only a centuries-old ensouled vampire. Embrace the small-mindedness of your humanity."

"I'll do my best." They looked at each other, feeling the fleeting nowness of the moment, its ephemeral quality.

Buffy felt acutely as if an era was ending. Angel. He had always been such a force in her life, had always taken up such a huge space in her mind, in her heart, in her gut. He was leaving, and she didn't want to face what would come without him. But he was right. They both knew it. There was too much baggage between them, too many obstacles to make any relationship work. But God, would she miss him. She stared at his face, trying to memorize it, trying to savor the deep, soft brown of his eyes, how his face transformed when he smiled.

"Will you tell me when you're leaving?" she asked in a small voice.

He nodded. "If you want me to."

"Yes, please."

"I, uh," Angel faltered a little, "I want to meet her."

Buffy stared at him. "Faith? You want to meet Faith?" she said, much louder than she had intended.

He nodded simply again.

"God, I can't see how that can go well." She glared at him. "Why would you wanna tempt the gods of accidental stakings?"

Angel shrugged, in a very human gesture that made him look young. "Curiosity? Embracing my petty jealousies?"

Buffy started laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

"My life makes `The Young and the Restless' look like an elderly knitting convention." She stopped laughing abruptly and looked at him suspiciously. "You aren't gonna go all psycho ex-boyfriend, are you? Special interrogation techniques that only a 240 year-old vampire would know? Threats of bodily harm?"

"No." He smiled a little. "Probably not."

Buffy ran her hand through her hair. "I don't even know how I'm going to orchestrate this. Faith won't even say full sentences to me." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Although, she always was pretty fascinated by you. Maybe I can lure her in with promises of Q and A sessions and pizza."

Angel looked apprehensively at her. "Q and A? As in questions and then me answering them? That sounds ... like a nightmare I once had."

Buffy smirked at him. "If you're really determined to have this little gathering, then I'd say you should keep your expectations low. Like, below sea level. Your expectations should live with seaweed and crabs and those little tasty shrimp they serve with butter and lemon," she said, miming squeezing a lemon wedge.

Angel looked at her stoically.

Chapter 11: Progress

Author's Notes: Seeing as how several of my readers expressed some impatience with the lack of Faith in the previous chapter, I decided to update a little earlier than I usually would. And also to reassure you that the next couple of chapters will be all about Buffy/Faith. So, enough of the intermission. Let the Fuffy drama recommence.

It was a Saturday night. Buffy and Faith were entering into another session of awkward pauses, silences, and tension of the cut-with-a-knife variety. Except for the fact that Faith seemed completely comfortable and only Buffy felt as if her insides were executing some complex gymnastics routine.

"Hey," Buffy said suddenly. "Did you see that special on Animal Planet about shrimp?"

Faith gave her a "are you fucking serious?" look. "My TV gets two channels, B."

"Oh, uh, right. `Course it does," she responded quietly, feeling like an inept moron.

They walked for several more minutes in silence, Buffy's mind desperately trying to come up with more inane conversation topics and break the oppressive non-talking. It was a semi-relief, then, when sounds of grunting, pounding, and cracking bones filtered through the still night and both of their heads snapped around. The two girls glanced at each other quickly and set off running. They came to the source of the sounds and skidded to a stop, looking lost.

There were two groups of vampires, fighting each other viciously. They didn't even notice the presence of the two Slayers. One of the groups was dressed impeccably — suits, ties, and shiny expensive shoes which were currently being put through stomachs. The other group was the typical motley group of vampires. The motley group was losing, badly. One of them broke free, stumbled, and ran off, looking terrified.

"Hey. Hey!" a well-dressed vampire yelled. He pointed at two of the others. "You two, go stake that little shit. The Mayor doesn't want any rogue vamps messing up his town." They ran off in hot pursuit.

Faith and Buffy looked at each other, stunned. "The Mayor?" Buffy mouthed incredulously.

"Maybe we should get out of here and tell Giles," Buffy whispered. "Before they notice -" she stopped talking as the winning group turned as one and saw them. "Us."

"Nice plan, B. Needs better execution," Faith said flatly.

The vampires growled menacingly and charged them. Buffy side-stepped one of them, kicking out with her foot and sending him to the ground. She was hit in the face by another, then kicked in the stomach. She fell, and quickly scrambled up as the vampires began to circle her.

"Slayer, huh?" one of them said contemptuously. He looked around at the group. "He'll be pleased that we took these two out before it gets serious."

"Oh, it's already serious, boys. I'd say you should tell the Mayor that, but in about twenty seconds communication without an Ouija board is gonna get real difficult," Buffy said brightly, looking around for an opening of attack.

She lunged at one of the vamps, elbowing him in the face and quickly following up with her stake. He dissolved and the other vamps were on her. She tried to shield her head as the blows came from every direction.

Buffy lashed out with her foot and felt it connect. She got her hand around a stake and brought it up, preparing to plunge it in the nearest undead chest, but one of them grasped her wrist and bent it back viciously. She cried out as she felt bones snap and pain shot up her arm.

"Buffy!" Faith yelled wildly.

Buffy heard her through a dim haze, still reeling. All of a sudden she couldn't move her arms. She whimpered in pain as her wrist was bent more and her arms pinned down. A vampire was approaching her almost lazily, enjoying the fear on her face. He stopped in front of her, grabbed her hair roughly and yanked it to the side, exposing her neck. She felt his teeth break skin, felt blood come rushing out, and then coughed as she inhaled his dust.

Faith was standing there, looking absolutely livid. She wrenched one of the vampires off of Buffy with a feral snarl and threw him savagely into a tree, kicking the other vampire in the chest. Stake out, plunging in twice and they were gone.

Buffy collapsed, shaking. She held her wrist to her chest gingerly, her face contorted in pain. Faith kneeled in front of her, her hands out uncertainly. She was looking frantically over Buffy's body, seeing the blood on her neck. Buffy looked into Faith's eyes and saw how furious and scared she was. Saw ... what? Tenderness? Faith almost looked like she was going to cry. The expression looked so alien on her face that Buffy forgot the searing pain for two seconds.

"Buffy? Are you okay?" Faith asked anxiously, her hands still hovering tentatively, as if she was afraid to touch her. Buffy had never heard her sound so young, so uncertain.

"Yeah," Buffy said through gritted teeth. "He bit me, and I think he broke my wrist. I — I need to go to the hospital. We can call Giles — he can drive us."

Faith gently put her hands on Buffy's elbows and lifted her up. Buffy grimaced, put her good hand on her neck to stop the flow of blood. They began to walk slowly to the cemetery entrance, Faith supporting her gently. Buffy could feel the other Slayers' hands shaking.

"Fuck, Buffy," Faith spat suddenly, and she sounded enraged. Buffy looked at her, shocked. "If you weren't bleeding all over the place, I'd smack the shit out of you. How could you be so stupid?"

Buffy blinked, stunned and offended.

"Why would you go after those vamps like that and get hurt? You some kind of mental retard?" Faith snapped heatedly.

"Um, what the hell are you talking about?" Buffy asked, nonplussed and getting angrier. "Did I get transported to some alternate dimension where I wasn't defending myself against like four vamps? I don't know what kind of standards you're dealing with, but in my book, getting out alive is a definite plus."

"Those are your standards, B? Getting out alive? How about not getting chomped on and having your goddamn wrist shattered!" Faith shouted. She dropped Buffy's elbow and turned around to face her, looking furious.

"Well, Jesus, Faith, sorry if I rained on your perfect slaying record! Does my broken wrist push you into the `damaged' column?" Buffy yelled, stopping too.

"Why — why did you have get hurt like that?" Faith sputtered, and there was suddenly an undercurrent of fear in her voice. "God, you — you complicate everything. Why do you always have to make everything so fucking confusing?!" She was almost bellowing.

Buffy opened her mouth in shock. She felt, and this seemed like a common feeling when she was around Faith, like she had just walked into the middle of a play and had no idea what was going on. She stared at Faith, who was looking at her with a combination of rage, confusion, fear, and a soft uncertainty. Buffy felt a rush of comprehension move through her like lightning, felt her anger crumble.

"Faith ..." she said softly.

"Don't — don't talk to me like that!" Faith yelled furiously. "You don't get to talk to me like you give a shit, like you know what's going on!" She pointed at Buffy, and her voice was intense and dangerous. "Fuck you, B."

Before Buffy could do more than tentatively reach for her, Faith spun around and walked off. And then abruptly turned around again after two steps, her face a canvas of tight angles and lines. She walked up to Buffy, grabbed her elbow and continued walking, not even looking at her.

"I swear to God, if you weren't about to pass out `cause of blood loss, I'd drop your ass like it had syphilis." She glared at Buffy. "Don't even think about opening your mouth."

Buffy smiled a little, despite the situation. It was odd, but even with a broken wrist, a bleeding neck, and the pervasive feeling that she had just gotten her ass kicked all the way to Uzbekistan, she felt happier than she had in months. Progress, she said to herself, and glanced sideways at Faith. They walked out of the cemetery together to find a pay phone.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy came to school on Monday with a cast reaching to her elbow on her left arm and a large white bandage on her neck. After Giles had something resembling a heart attack and drove her to the hospital 50 mph over the speed limit, the doctors stopped the now trickle of blood and set her wrist.

Faith had come along, glaring in general and looking as if she would drop-kick anyone who tried to talk to her. She had walked off after hearing that Buffy was okay, and Buffy hadn't seen or talked to her since. Maybe "progress" was too generous a term, Buffy thought. But she couldn't help be buoyed by the turn of events. Faith had revealed something. And even if it was only because she thought Buffy was dying and had even almost killed her herself, it was something.

They met in the library that afternoon for a Slayer-centered meeting.

"Buff, what have I told you about injuring yourself for the sake of new fashions?" Xander asked as Buffy walked in, lounging in one of the chairs.

She glanced at her cast, then up at him skeptically.

"It's a whole new look. Screams `I have no sense of self-preservation.' Gonna be the new thing," Xander continued.

Willow glared at him and then gave Buffy a sympathetic look. "How's it feel?"

Buffy shrugged. "Been worse. `Course, having your wrist twisted like a piece of spaghetti, not the pleasurable experience you'd think it be."

"Ah, Buffy," Giles said, coming out of his office and looking at her warmly. "How are you doing?"

"Okay. Although, I think your driving skills, or lack of same, didn't really help the odds of me not dying," Buffy said, grinning.

Giles coughed. "Yes, well, the speed limits here are ludicrous, anyway." Willow, Xander, and Buffy shared an amused look.

"Did something unusual happen last night, Buffy? The vampires, were they more organized?" Giles said quickly, still slightly embarrassed.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, actually. You guys are gonna want to hear this. Me and Faith were patrolling last night -"

"Really?" Willow interrupted eagerly. "Like, direct interaction?"

Giles looked at her strangely. "Um, which is not at all relevant. Sorry," Willow said quietly.

Buffy gave Willow a pointed "we'll talk later" look and then continued. "So, we were patrolling and we came across these two groups of vamps whaling on each other. It was weird, well first `cause they were fighting each other, and also because one of the groups was kind of drowning in Armani."

Giles looked lost. "Well-dressed," Buffy clarified. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

"So one of the smellier vamps runs off and a metro from the other group yells out, `Go get him. The Mayor doesn't want any rogue vamps running around.'" Buffy looked around meaningfully.

The others stared at her. "The Mayor?" Giles asked, mildly shocked.

"Yup. And, when we were fighting them later on, or really when I was being eaten and broken into tiny little pieces, another vampire says, `He'll be happy that we took the Slayers out before it gets serious.' So, conclusions reached." Buffy held up fingers from her good hand as she ticked them off, "The Mayor's pulling the strings. He's the cause of the decrease in vamp killings. And he's planning something ginormous."

Giles took his glasses off and began cleaning them thoughtfully. "It does make sense, I suppose. The Mayor of Sunnydale would have to be painfully aware of the paranormal activity going on here. And in that office, he would be well-positioned for some sort of massive take-over."

"But why the vamps against vamps? Why's he keeping some?" Xander asked, frowning.

"Join in or get out," Willow said thoughtfully. "I bet he's giving the vampires options. Either become an employee or scram. And if they don't, he sends out staking committees. Also," her eyes widened, "he's controlling the vamps he does have. Blood, treats, other motivational tools."

"Keeping their livers," Buffy added helpfully. The others cringed.

"He would also be able to take credit for the increased safety of the community," Giles said.

Just as he finished his sentence, the doors of the library swung open and Faith sauntered in. Buffy glanced up, surprised.

"Yo, G. Got your message. What's up?" she said casually, not even looking at Buffy.

"Faith. We were just discussing what you and Buffy discovered last night," Giles said.

"Yeah. Mayor's the new player in town." She dragged up a chair across from Buffy and sat down in it, propping her boots on the table. She was still effectively ignoring her. Buffy felt an ache that had nothing to do with her arm.

Giles flinched as he looked at her feet, but restrained himself. "Yes. We think he's been hiring or driving out the vampires. It explains the decline in vampire deaths."

"So, what's the plan? Torch city hall? Or send him a flower basket?" Faith asked, looking almost bored.

"Maybe we could plant a mayorly competitor. Have someone give ol' Mr. Incumbent a run for his tax-payers' money," Xander said, nodding his head conspiratorially.

"Or, in a style more attuned to impatient Slayers, we could sneak in, see what we can find in his fortress of politics," Buffy said. "Maybe I could get Angel to hit the streets, see what info he can pick up in the underground. You wouldn't believe the fear he generates when people realize he's come back from a hell dimension. They get all chatty."

She glanced at Faith, and saw her fists clenched tightly, her knuckles white, and her face carefully neutral at the mention of Angel. Buffy felt a combination of happy justification and guilt at Faith's discomfort.

"Yes, perhaps that would be prudent," Giles said thoughtfully. In contrast to Faith, he didn't seem uncomfortable at asking Angel for help, and Buffy rejoiced internally.

"Faith, you should patrol regularly tonight. Buffy needs more recovery time and I don't want you to go near city hall until we have a much more comprehensive idea of what the Mayor is planning. We don't know how dangerous he is," Giles said. "I would also prefer having some blueprints of the building. Willow?"

"On it," Willow responded eagerly, and went to the computer. "His schematics are mine."

"Okay then. I'm gonna get some of my monument-sized pile of homework done. And send positive healing energy to this thing attached to my body," Buffy said, glaring at her useless left arm.

"See you guys later, then," Faith said, her voice flat. She rose in a fluid movement, walked to the door.

Buffy glanced briefly at Willow's pointed look and got up clumsily. She walked quickly over, reaching Faith just as she was about to open the door.

"Uh," Buffy began brilliantly. Faith stopped and glanced at her, and Buffy could tell she was trying hard to keep her face smooth. She hesitated and then put her good hand on Faith's arm. "Be careful?"

Faith looked down at her hand. "You know me, B," she said, and her smirk looked more like a grimace. She walked out.

Chapter 12: Nothing's Simple

Author's Notes: Just wanted to say again how much I appreciate all the feedback and encouragement. Big thanks to everyone who's reviewed.

Buffy spent the next several days in an advanced state of restless anxiety. When dusk began settling, like clockwork, Buffy would feel an uncontrollable urge to slay, to run, to do freaking something instead of sitting and sending ineffectual glares at her cast. She would sit by the window in her bedroom while she was supposed to be doing whatever homework, staring out at the tops of swaying trees, listening to the heavy stillness of the night, and trying not to think about Faith. And when she wasn't thinking about Faith, she was thinking about Angel. Two cheery, positive topics that made her clench her teeth, her fingers opening and closing in a parody of making a fist.

She had to wait at least a week before essentially bribing the doctor to take her cast off. It had probably healed before that, but she didn't want Sunnydale Hospital considering her too much of a medical miracle. The doctor removed the cast, examined her wrist and made several small, incredulous noises. Buffy flexed her arm eagerly and had a ridiculous urge to see if she could punch a hole through the hospital wall. And then re-thought and realized that would be a little less than inconspicuous. She thanked the flummoxed doctor for his magical healing abilities, and then walked out of the hospital with her mom, wishing it was night.

And, finally, after checking in with Giles after school, she saw the sky darken, grabbed Mr. Pointy, and hit the cemeteries. She was practically bouncing, feeling the grass flatten beneath her feet, breathing in the slightly polluted California air, waiting for those sensations up and down her spine.

"Bingo," she whispered as she felt vampires nearby. "And Monopoly and Parchisi and those little crossword puzzles." She began sprinting.

A single vampire was emerging from a fresh grave, struggling and snarling. Buffy stopped and frowned. "This is — well, frankly disappointing."

The vampire looked at up her in disbelief. "I'm disappointing? Why don't you try finding out that Kelly Smit, the girl you've had a crush on for like ever, didn't even come to your funeral!" he said indignantly.

"That's rough, buddy," Buffy sympathized, and hauled him out of the grave before plunging a stake into his chest.

"Figures," he groaned, and crumbled.

Buffy pouted and began walking again towards a different cemetery. "Mayor jerk," she grumbled. "Taking away all my fun."

She continued to mumble obscenities under her breath as she entered a different graveyard. And abruptly ran into three of the Mayor's vampire employees.

They all looked at each other for several frozen moments, surprised, before Buffy flung her stake into one of the vamps' chests.

"Goddamit. Why don't we bring weapons that work at more than two inches away?" one of them complained, and they advanced on her.

Buffy, waiting patiently, suddenly jumped up and threw both her legs out, kicking the two vamps in the face and sending them sprawling. She moved quickly to one of them and staked him, and then spun with a sharp roundhouse kick as the other one attempted to gain the advantage. He went down, scrambled up, and aimed a spotless shoe into her stomach. She dodged it, feeling exhilarated. Feeling hot blood coursing through her entire body, her arms and legs working in tandem. Twenty seconds later and another scattering of dust on the ground.

Buffy stood, breathing heavily, and suddenly heard footsteps behind her. She inhaled deeply, centering herself, and clenched her stake tightly. She waited until they were close enough and spun around, arm and stake out. Faith caught her wrist tightly, grinning slightly.

"Faith," Buffy said, surprised.

"Hey, B." She let go of her wrist. "Back in action, huh?"

Buffy's heart was pounding wildly, both because of the recent violence and how close Faith was to her. She shouldn't be allowed to look so ridiculously attractive, Buffy thought weakly, trying not to be too obvious about running her eyes up and down the other Slayer.

"Yeah. Finally. The hospital thinks I'm a big freak, though," Buffy croaked.

"Hey, nothin' new to me," Faith said, but she was smiling.

Buffy was uncertain about this new Faith. She was friendly, she was talkative, she was forming complete sentences. Huh. Maybe it was actually progress. Maybe that little episode before had made her realize they could at least have a semi-healthy friendship.

They began walking, keeping their eyes peeled for anything interesting.

"You feeling the good Mayor's charitable actions too?" Buffy asked her.

"What, you mean the fact that the only thing I slayed tonight was a roach on my motel wall?" Faith frowned. "Throws me off when there's nothing to pound on."

"Yeah, I got lucky with a couple of vamps back there, but my recently healed arm is a tad more ambitious," Buffy grumbled. "I mean, it feels weird complaining that there aren't enough homicidal vampires around, but there you go. Well, plus that this is sort of the silence before the storm, you know?"

Faith nodded, glanced at her sideways. "Can't relax when it's dark anyway. I need to dance or punch shit or screw. It's like my body won't stay still."

"Yeah, gotta say I'm familiar with that," Buffy said softly. They were silent for several more moments until Faith stopped walking.

She looked around, snorted. "Man, there's no point patrolling. All the vamps in this town are feeding out of the Mayor's hand, anyway. All we have to do now is geek work and recon, and I ain't that patient." Faith looked at Buffy, smirking. "Let's hit the Bronze, B. See if we can't make this night a little more interesting."

Buffy paused, thinking of the last time she had been with Faith in the Bronze. Was that what she wanted? Did she really have the self-control to stop something from happening? Did she want to? Questions were piling up in her mind and she had absolutely no answers.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, sure. I could do that." She thought of something and glared at Faith. "But don't convince me to drink too much. I honestly don't know how, but a pint of alcohol always mysteriously ends up in my bladder when you're around."

Faith saluted, and Buffy irrationally thought how adorable it was. "Scout's honor, B."

Buffy snorted. "Faith, they wouldn't let you into the girl scouts if you changed your entire appearance and found Jesus."

"Yeah, but I fucked one once. I think you can get points for that," she said, smirking.

Buffy laughed, feeling something lighten inside her. "Come on then, you future role model for impressionable young girls."

~ — ~ — ~

The two Slayers reached the club and found it busier than usual. People in Sunnydale sure know how to take advantage of a vampire-less town, Buffy thought. Faith grabbed her hand as they went inside and Buffy felt her stomach lurch pleasantly. She dragged them both over to the bar and smiled provocatively at the bartender. Who happened to be a girl. Is bartendress a word? Buffy thought randomly, as she sat back and watched, with no small amount of jealousy, Faith smile and flirt her way into five shots.

She pushed over two of them to Buffy, who raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Faith asked innocently. "That ain't a lot of alcohol, B. Just something to warm the entrails." She grinned.

"I find it odd that the largest words you know have to do with blood and guts," Buffy said, smiling slightly.

"Hey, if you're gonna talk about shit like that, at least do it prettily," Faith said, and raised her glass.

Buffy followed reluctantly, tossing her shot back with Faith and gagging a little. "I don't know why I'm surprised every time that it tastes like lighter fluid. Seems like I should be expecting it now."

Faith just grinned and threw back another one, licking her lips. Buffy tried not to stare too blatantly. "Tastes like candy to me, B."

"Yeah, well, that's 'cause your taste buds have been burned off," Buffy shot back snarkily, and raised a glass with Faith again.

"Dunno. Seems like my taste buds work fine when I'm eating other things," Faith said casually, smirking. Buffy almost spit her shot out. Faith hit her on the back as she coughed, eyes watering.

"I — I'm going to pretend you were talking about cheeseburgers," Buffy said weakly.

"Be my guest. Denial's hot on some people, B." Faith grabbed her hand and dragged her off to the floor. "Unfortunately, you aren't one of them. So stop talking."

She turned around quickly as they reached the dance floor and placed her hand firmly on Buffy's back, bringing her in close. Their bodies pressed together, faces inches apart. Buffy closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the other Slayer's warm body after what felt like years and years of separation. Faith put one hand on Buffy's ass, one hand on her hip and began moving. Buffy knew how this went. She followed, putting her own hands on Faith, tangling one in her hair, one on the middle of her back. They moved together, fluidly, surging, blood pounding in Buffy's temples and wrists.

Faith shifted slightly, maneuvered her thigh in between Buffy's legs. She gasped, her hips moving forward. An agonizing friction began every time they swayed, Faith's leg pushing, Buffy's hips pushing back. Their lips were almost close enough to touch. Buffy could almost taste her, the smokiness of alcohol, the feel of Faith's tongue. She wanted to take Faith out in the alley, do things to make her moan. This not quite naughty touching was driving her insane.

Suddenly, Faith's leg, hands, body disappeared. Buffy opened her eyes, blinked at the abrupt loss of contact. She saw Faith had moved back and was grinding on a large, college-age guy with ridiculously gelled hair. Buffy stared at her. She was smiling invitingly, rubbing against him, hands moving to grab his arms and put them around her. Buffy felt her heart pounding with hurt and anger. She glared at them. Faith was staring right back at her, smirking with a callous knowledge, just as she grabbed at another guy and made a Faith-skank sandwich.

As Faith began to bring his head closer to hers, Buffy looked away. That was it, then. She had brought Buffy here to see how much she didn't care. To see how much she didn't matter. Buffy felt her heart wrench, her eyes blur with tears, and wiped at them angrily. She wasn't going to cry, she told herself, and spun around, grabbed her jacket from the bar chair, and walked out of the club.

How dare she, Buffy thought viciously. She couldn't just be indifferent, she had to make it hurt. She had to prove that she had the power, that I couldn't touch her. Alcohol and undiluted rage were coursing through her blood. Buffy walked into the alleyway, feeling helplessly angry. She walked over to the wall, leaning her head against the cool brick, and realized she was crying. No, no. Goddamit, I'm so sick of crying, she thought fiercely.

She put her fist up against the wall, turned around and slid down, her ass hitting the ground, her back against the brick. Tears were coming that she couldn't stop. She brought her hands to her face, pressed them tightly against her eyes and tried to suppress the shaking in her body. She wanted to hit her, or jump her, or forget her completely. Wanted to push Faith away violently because she made everything too complicated, too painful. Nothing's simple, Buffy thought, echoing Willow's earlier words. Fists are simple, she found herself thinking. Fists and feet and elbows and smashing them into faces, that's simple. I should do that more often.

"Buffy?" a voice asked tentatively, wrenching Buffy out of her violent thoughts.

She wiped her eyes furiously, looked up to see Faith standing there, looking uncertain. Buffy scrambled up, pushing her hands against the wall to stand. Her entire body was pounding. She was shaking with anger.

"Did you come to gloat, Faith? To point and laugh?" she shouted, and her voice echoed around the alley. "'Cause it's obviously not enough to ignore me, to pretend I don't exist! You had to see it, right? See my actual pain."

Faith stood there. Buffy couldn't see her expression in the dark.

"I can't even believe you. I can't even believe I thought for a moment that you gave a shit about me," Buffy said, her jaw tight.

Faith suddenly stepped forward.

"You can't believe it? That's fucking hilarious. This from the chick who lies to my face, who goes around my back fucking her ex-boyfriends!" she shouted, her eyes vivid and bright.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy yelled at her, confused and furious. "Around your back? We were screwing because it's convenient, remember? You don't give a fuck who I sleep around with. That's what you said!"

Faith stopped and Buffy could see her body tighten.

"Don't you even think about throwing my words back at me," she said, her voice dangerously quiet, her body moving forward. "You think you know what I meant? You think you -"

"I heard you crying," Buffy said abruptly, trying to throw her off, trying to expose the emotions that lay underneath her anger.

Faith froze. Buffy could just see her eyes narrow, her mouth tighten into a line.

"I heard you after our little chat, when I came to apologize, to tell you that I should have been honest. You slammed the door in my face, you remember? Acted like you couldn't care less about me," Buffy said, her voice shaking.

Faith glared at her. "So, you heard me spring a leak and you think you know me? See that, really, I'm just a poor lost girl playin' tough?" Faith asked sardonically, furiously. "You got me all figured out, don't you. You don't know shit about me and you never will."

"I want to," Buffy said quietly, heatedly.

"Bullshit, princess," Faith spat, sneering. "You want to choose what you know about me. You don't want me as is — you want some trimmed, customized version of me. You don't wanna deal with the parts you don't like."

"That's not true," Buffy said, her teeth clenched.

"No? That why you only come to me after dark? That why you come to me when you wanna do something apart from your pristine little life? Drink, screw, kill, that's why I'm here," Faith said, her voice uneven, her face contorted in contempt and anger.

"No! That's not how I want it! That's not how I see -"

"Fuck you, B," Faith interrupted bitterly. "You wanted to keep me your dirty little secret. I was gonna be the side dish, the one you fuck after patrolling and then go back home to your undead sweetheart."

Buffy froze, staring at her. God, how could she have not seen it before? Her anger dissolved as understanding moved through her entire body.

"Faith," she started quietly, marveling a little at the sudden lucidity of the situation. She opened her mouth again to explain, but Faith cut her off, continuing her invective. Buffy watched her quietly and saw every caustic insecurity, every resentful weakness, every doubt pouring out of Faith as if she couldn't stop it. As if their argument had opened a flood gate and Faith didn't even know how to deal with what it was revealing.

"You think I don't know how a girl like you works?" she said loudly, pointing accusatorily at Buffy. "It's all about pretending you got control. All about separating the shit from the rest of your life, and pretending it don't smell," Faith continued scornfully, her eyes flashing. "Well, I'm not gonna be a part of your little puppet show, B. I ain't gonna play the bullshit part you got for me, and I ain't gonna sit back and be treated like some week-old garbage you can just throw away. I — I'm not gonna be that chick anymore so just -" she stopped talking abruptly, clenching her jaw and looking away as if realizing the transparency of what she was saying. "Just run back home to your boy and leave me the fuck alone," she gritted out, her voice quiet but still saturated with a bitter anger.

"No," Buffy said shortly.

Faith twitched. "You want a little more incentive?" she asked harshly. Buffy saw the other girl's stance shift slightly, how she was balanced on the balls of her feet. It would have looked utterly innocent to anyone else, but to Buffy, it screamed fight or flight. Faith was moving into more comfortable territory, was shifting into aggression.

"Stop," Buffy said sharply. Faith's brow creased in confusion at her tone, not expecting that level of stern impatience. "You came after me for a reason, Faith, and it wasn't to do some macho posturing. All of this — all of what you're doing," Buffy said, gesturing vaguely, "is because you know how both of us feel and you're scared." She saw Faith snort weakly, turn her head.

"Fuck you, B," she said again, but the emotion behind it sounded false.

"Faith," Buffy began again, softly but so intensely that Faith shut her mouth and snapped her eyes up to look at her. "You know what you are to me and it's not week-old garbage." She moved forward cautiously, unthreateningly, until she was only a couple feet in front of her. The other girl was watching her warily, face still tight with anger. "Yes, I — I was confused at first. You came here and changed everything. You make me feel things that I've never ..." Buffy stopped talking, swallowing, and tried again. "You're not my dirty little secret. I already told people about us — Willow, Xander ... God, even Angel." She looked away briefly, inhaling. "I don't want you to play some bullshit part, okay? I want — I want you to be mine, openly, publicly, with me wearing little pins that say `Faith's mine, so step off her hot ass.'"

Faith looked at her for several moments, her expression unreadable. "You think it's that easy?" she asked tightly.

"Well, I mean, pin-making — not really rocket science," Buffy said, scrunching her face up.

Faith decided to ignore that. "You think you can just snap your fingers and we're fucking Ozzie and Harriet?" she asked contemptuously. "I don't fit in your perfect little world, B. I never did." She stepped back, putting more space between her and Buffy. She shook her head, shut her eyes tightly. "Goddamit, why do you fuck things up so much? Things were simple before you came along." Faith opened her eyes and Buffy saw how much she was lost, confused, hurting.

"I don't have a perfect world. I don't want a perfect world. And things are never simple," Buffy said heatedly. "You know what I was thinking just a minute ago? That you made things too painful, too complicated. And then I thought about hitting you in the face, and that was simple. Only it's not. It just distracts, it just covers up."

Buffy moved forward again, holding Faith's anxious, uncertain gaze. "I want you. More than just screwing in a cemetery." She paused. "Although, no reason to stop that, `cause, sort of the hottest thing ever." She grew serious again. "I want you. All of you, the whole package. With all the imperfections."

Faith's face contorted, in Buffy couldn't tell what — pain, hope, fear. "We — this can't work," she said quietly, shaking her head.

"Give me one reason why not."

"Angel," Faith said shortly, eyes narrowing.

"Angel's leaving," Buffy said firmly. "When you saw us, that was the only time we — we slipped up. We both know a relationship isn't gonna work. I told him I had someone else."

"You — you told him you had someone else?" Faith said incredulously, sounding disgusted with the last two words. "Jesus, B, you make it sound like we're having some dirty, intimate affair. Reason number two: I ain't that someone else. I don't know how to be."

"Faith," Buffy said, flapping her hands impatiently. "Stop with the excuses. You think this isn't new for me too? You think I have all my other lesbian lovers stashed in my closet?"

Faith looked at her and then jerked her head violently. "That's just a fucking horrible image," she muttered.

Buffy rolled her eyes and Faith held up three fingers, apparently onto reason number three. "I'm not what you want," she said, a brush of bitter self-deprecation in her voice.

"Well, gee, everything just clears up when you put it like that," Buffy said sarcastically. "I have a radical notion. How about we pretend that I know what I want for a second, and you stop being a stubborn dumbass." She put her hand out on Faith's arm, felt muscles trembling underneath skin.

There was pure silence for several moments, Faith's eyes flicking around the alley and finally landing on Buffy's gentle, searching ones. She could see, actually see her cracking. That faГade was crumbling with Buffy's touch, with the insistent questions.

Faith's jaw was working. "I — I don't how this works. I don't know what you want from me, and I don't know if I can give it to you," she said in an uneven voice.

"I have faith in you," Buffy said, trying to keep her face straight.

Faith stared at her for several moments. "That was the lamest thing you've ever said," she said, almost disbelievingly.

Buffy shrugged. "Can't argue with that, but as far as tension-breakers go, that one was beyond divine." She slid her hand down hesitantly and grasped Faith's, lacing their fingers together. A surge of tentative happiness expanded inside of her as Faith didn't move away, contrasting dramatically with the bitter anger she had been experiencing just moments ago.

Faith glanced down at their clasped hands. "You aren't expecting me to get you heart-shaped chocolates and play the romantic sap, are you? 'Cause that just isn't happening."

Buffy rolled her eyes, her heart soaring from the implication of Faith's statement. "I'd probably die from shock. And not the nice, drowning, suffocating death either. The bad kind."

Faith looked at her, still uncertain. "Don't expect too much from me, B. I ain't the most reliable person ever."

"Faith, we officially stopped being screwing buddies like 30 seconds ago. I think we should give it a little more time before I write you off as bad girlfriend material," Buffy said flatly, raising an eyebrow at her.

Faith just stared at her. Her face was changing from anxiety to a type of scrutinizing wonder. Buffy put her hand on Faith's cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone gently. Faith inhaled deeply.

"No pressure, okay? We're just what we were before all that unpleasant drama happened, except with more monogamy. And possibly more snuggling. And maybe even sheets."

Faith smirked at her, and Buffy grinned at the familiar cockiness of it. "You gettin' tired of all the graveyard fucks?"

Buffy started walking, hand still laced with Faith's. "Now, I know this is gonna make your already giganamous head even larger, but those little sessions of ours pretty much blew my mind. And my central nervous system. So, no, definitely not writing off satisfying the post-slayage horniness." Faith was grinning unabashedly at her pronouncement. "But, I say we take a chance on the power of mattresses and pillows. I've heard they can be nice."

"I knew you were gonna be high-maintenance, princess," Faith said, giving her a lopsided smile that made Buffy's heart melt into an amorphous blob.

She couldn't believe how this conversation had progressed. Just minutes ago they had been screaming at each other. Now they were — what? Girlfriends? Lovers? Buffy didn't really care. The two girls walked back into the club.

Chapter 13: Important Slayer Missions

Author's Notes:

Buffy entered the library the next afternoon to find Willow, Xander, Giles, and Faith sitting at the table, the latter slouched in her patented "I'm too hot to care about good posture" position. Buffy grinned, feeling as if her entire body had suddenly turned into a brightly decorated Christmas tree. She sat down next to Faith and reached for her hand underneath the table. Faith looked at her, eyes incongruously soft in the arrogance of her expression, and squeezed her hand gently. Buffy's skeleton almost liquefied.

Willow had been watching them furtively, trying to hide her face behind the computer. When Buffy caught her eye, smiling, Willow positively beamed.

"Did you find something useful, Willow?" Giles asked, glancing at her expression.

"What?" Willow asked, startled. "Oh, uh, no, not yet. Still working on the Mayor's security systems."

"You seem inordinately happy at the lack of success," Giles said, frowning.

"Oh, um." Willow smiled weakly. "I just love a challenge, you know me."

Xander had been looking at Faith and Buffy with a slightly dazed expression. He blinked and shook his head violently at the sound of voices, saying loudly, "Buffy! When did you get here? So good to see you!"

Everyone stared at him. Buffy gave him a dirty look, apparently working out where his brain had just been.

"Yes, well, if everyone's finished acting exceedingly odd, I believe we should begin discussing what progress we've made," Giles said firmly.

"Which isn't really that much," Willow said, grimacing.

"Not completely true, my red-headed hacking fiend," Xander began. "Oz and I went to the public records building and found some blueprints for city hall."

"That's great," Buffy said, leaning forward. "Can we go break and enter now?" she asked brightly.

"I still don't think it would be a good idea. We have almost no idea how dangerous the Mayor actually is or what kind of security systems he has operating. He may be a warlock, or have some sort of mystical powers, or even be a demon in human guise. I would prefer to have some more information," Giles said, brow furrowed.

"C'mon, G. We're practically dying of boredom out here," Faith complained. "No vamps, no illegal activities, what're we supposed to do for fun?"

"Yeah," Buffy added, trying to ignore how Faith was moving her thumb in small circles over Buffy's hand. "Slayers are built for action, Giles. Point us and shoot. We promise we won't do anything really super reckless."

"Is that meant to be a comforting statement?" Giles asked dryly. He looked at the two Slayers, one of whom was gazing at him plaintively, the other belligerently.

He sighed. "Very well. You two can do a simple reconnaissance mission at the Mayor's office tonight. Reconnaissance," Giles emphasized. "No fighting, no jumping on unsuspecting vampire employees, just observe."

Faith grinned, looking at Buffy. "Sweet. I'll go get my flamethrower. B, you pick up the grenades."

Giles glared at her. "Just playin'," Faith said, smirking.

~ — ~ — ~

That night found Faith and Buffy walking down normal streets, heading towards city hall. The building had daytime public hours, but it had been closed since evening. They had decided to try your basic lock-picking approach, but wouldn't be averse to window-smashing if it didn't pan out. Faith had confessed to an extensive knowledge of opening locked doors, but would just grin evasively when Buffy asked where she had learned it.

They reached the building, a large, white, intimidating structure, and crept around until they found a side door Xander had discovered on the blueprints. Both Buffy and Faith had examined them, studying where the Mayor's office was and where the exits were. They didn't know how tight security was, or whether there were guards, but they concluded that two Slayers could probably handle it. They reached the door and Faith kneeled down while Buffy peered into the darkness, keeping watch.

Buffy heard a series of scrapes and clicks and Faith stood up, looking pleased with herself.

"Damn, I'm talented," Faith said arrogantly.

"Talented, delinquent, what's the diff?" Buffy asked.

"Hey, can't help that I'm good at opening things," Faith said, smirking naughtily. "Locks, bottles, legs, they all just take a little skill and patience."

"See, now I know you're talking out of your ass, 'cause you don't have a patient cell in your entire body," Buffy whispered, opening the door slightly.

They snuck in quietly, feet padding softly on carpet. It was dark, but there was just enough light to see where they were going. They set off towards the office, senses alert for any noise. They reached a corner and Buffy snuck her head around, drawing it back quickly.

"Guard," she whispered.

"Vamp?"

"Human."

Faith nodded. "You wanna give the guy a love tap, or should I?"

Buffy shrugged. "I'll do it. Need to work on my stealth bomber skills anyways."

She looked around again and saw the guard was glancing in the other direction. Buffy began moving, low and as swiftly as she could without making noise. The guard snapped his head around at the last second, opened his mouth, and abruptly collapsed as Buffy smashed a fist into his face.

"Um, that wasn't as gentle as I wanted it to be," she whispered guiltily as Faith sidled up next to her, both of them looking down at the unconscious guard.

"Well, subtle just isn't your style, B," Faith said. "S'okay. I appreciate a girl who's forward."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, smirked at her. "Why is that not a complete shock to me?"

Faith just grinned, making an "after you" motion with her hand. Buffy started forward again, Faith following. They crept down the hall, moving towards the Mayor's office, which they realized belatedly had lights streaming under the door.

"Working late?" Buffy whispered.

Faith opened her mouth to respond and shut it as they both heard voices and footsteps moving closer. Faith seized Buffy's forearm, grabbed wildly at the doorknob to their left and dragged her into what fortunately happened to be a janitor's closet, closing the door softly after them. Buffy's head brushed against a dirty mop and she pushed it angrily away from her, making far too much noise. Faith squeezed her arm, gave her a "seriously?" look that Buffy could just see in the dark. They stood, inches apart, trying to control their breathing as several people moved by the door.

"You know, these dark rituals are fragile little things. Get a word wrong and suddenly you've got a Relaash demon trying to cut out your kidney. Heck of a clean-up," a voice said.

Buffy realized, at an exceptionally inopportune time, how small the janitor's closet was, how much heat Faith's body was emitting, and exactly how long it had been since she had felt Faith's hands on her. She could feel warm breath on her face, could reach out just inches and touch her. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid the people outside could hear it. She inhaled shakily and saw Faith staring at her intently, a small, positively evil smirk gracing her features.

"Yes, sir," another voice said, a little sycophantically. "We're making sure all of the materials are prepared."

Faith, looking at her in a way that made Buffy either hyperventilate or stop breathing, put her hands on Buffy hips and tugged firmly, pushing their bodies closer. She leaned in slowly, bringing her mouth centimeters away from Buffy's ear, who shivered. Faith proceeded, and Buffy could feel her smirking, to run her tongue gently up and down Buffy's neck, reaching her ear and sucking on it slightly. Buffy's eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she bit her lip and let out an undignified squeak.

"That's swell, Allan. And how's the vampire situation coming along?" The first voice paused and the two Slayers heard, or at least vaguely noticed, him stop just outside the door. "Really, I just can't understand how difficult some of them are being. It's like they're being intentionally rude. Being dead doesn't give you the right to forego necessities like manners and hygiene."

"Uh, yes, sir," Allan said uncertainly. "We've almost rounded up all of the vampires in town. There are a couple of groups still giving us trouble, but we sent out Skinner and his, uh, crew to deal with them."

Buffy was quietly having a crisis as the two men talked outside. She wanted to wrap her arms around Faith, pull them closer together, but knew that would just exacerbate matters, so she stood with her fists clenched and trembling and tried to calm her rebellious body.

Faith, continuing her assault on Buffy's neck, moved her hand under Buffy's shirt, sliding up and then down, deliberately avoiding the most erogenous areas. She grazed the bottom of Buffy's bra, moved down, almost slipping under Buffy's pants. Fingertips gliding over heated skin, leaving blazing trails, dancing around Buffy's body like she was an instrument to be played. Feeling fingers just teasing the elastic of her underwear, Buffy let out a quiet, rumbling groan, and Faith continued skating hands and fingernails under her shirt. Buffy felt like she was either going to cry out of frustration or rip all of Faith's clothes off in about five seconds.

"He's an efficient worker, Skinner is. I can appreciate that level of initiative. His people skills need a little work, though," the first voice said, and they both continued walking. There was the sound of large doors opening and then closing, and then muffled voices coming from inside the Mayor's office.

Buffy grabbed Faith's wrists, stopping the agonizing progression of her hands, and glared at her. Faith stared back, trying to keep her face smooth.

"Something wrong, B?" she asked innocently, although the effect was ruined slightly by her arrogant smirk.

"Faith," Buffy began irritably, letting go of Faith's arms. "We're on a mission. An important Slayer mission which does not include making Buffy go insane with sexual frustration. I'm pretty sure I would've noticed if Giles had included that in the instructions."

Faith continued to smirk at her.

"We can't do ... things ... like that when we're on the job," Buffy said, using her sternest professor voice.

"Things like this?" Faith asked with a mischievous grin, leaning forward to resume sucking on Buffy's earlobe. Buffy inhaled sharply, her body responding on its own while her mind stopped working.

"Um, yes?" Buffy squeaked, as Faith moved her head down and gently scraped teeth against Buffy's collarbone, warm hands on her hips.

"Or, like this?" Faith asked, moving her arms around to deftly unbutton Buffy's pants, tug the zipper down, and slip her hand in. They moaned together, as silently as they possibly could, as Faith's fingers slid through wet folds, Buffy's hips surging forward.

"Faith," she said unevenly. She tried to open her mouth again in some pathetic parody of an admonishment, but Faith raised her mouth to Buffy's and kissed her until she was gasping and her legs were buckling.

"Oh, God," Buffy hissed as one of Faith's hands did miraculous things between her legs, and the other slid underneath her shirt and firmly attached itself to one of Buffy's breasts.

"Faith," she said again, her breathless voice doing strange, vibratory fluctuations, "we're ... in a janitor's ... closet ... in city hall."

"Politics is all about who sleeps with who anyway, B," Faith whispered next to her ear, sending another wave of shudders through Buffy's body. "We're just followin' the trend. And unless the next words out of your mouth are, `Faith, please fuck me harder,' you're gonna need to stop talking."

Her hand inside Buffy's pants wasted no time on preliminaries, dipping in to spread wetness and then moving higher, rubbing her clit in firm circles. Buffy's hips bucked and Faith pushed inside her, sliding in effortlessly. She curled up, fingers stroking and caressing, rubbing against areas that made Buffy bite everything in reach to try to silence herself. Faith began moving in and out in deliberate, unhurried strokes, her thumb circling Buffy's clit in a painstakingly slow manner. Buffy grabbed wildly for something to support herself, and found one of her hands clutching the top of a mop as if she were hanging on for dear life, and the other gripping Faith's ass as the other Slayer rolled her hips forward with each movement. Her body was shuddering each time Faith's fingers and hips thrust forward, and she was frantically trying to suppress the high-pitched moans coming from her mouth.

Faith moved her head forward, sliding her cheek against Buffy's in a slow, sensual friction. Her mouth was centimeters from Buffy's ear as she began talking softly.

"God, I missed this," she whispered, her voice low, sweet, sliding across Buffy's ear like molasses. Buffy shivered and swallowed a moan. "You have no idea how much."

Buffy whimpered at Faith's words, feeling them feed the fire between her thighs. Faith, breathing hard along with Buffy's shaky gasps, seemed to realize the amount of noise they were making and lowered her mouth to Buffy's, tongues sliding in. Buffy kissed her hungrily, moaning into her mouth, and felt that familiar heat curling in the pit of her stomach.

Her hips rolled with each rhythmic movement of Faith's hands as they thrust faster, harder, and the heat grew, spreading from her stomach outwards. Faith cupped her breast, gently rolled the nipple covered by bra fabric through her fingers, and it pushed Buffy to happy territory. Her orgasm surged through her, crashing on her, and Buffy shuddered as she came, finding her broken moan smothered by Faith's mouth.

They stayed wrapped around each other for several moments, waiting as their breathing slowed and their hearts stopped thumping wildly. Faith slid her hands from inside Buffy's shirt and pants and began re-buttoning the other Slayer's jeans, smiling softly. Buffy released the mop handle, which was not so much a handle now as splintered pieces of wood, and inhaled deeply.

"I'd call that recon mission a complete success," Faith said quietly, looking at Buffy through hooded, shining eyes.

Buffy cupped Faith's face with her hands, kissed her slowly and thoroughly, and then pulled back, her face flushed, her eyes glittering.

"If I could feel my limbs right now, I would beat your ass," Buffy said, glaring at her with a small smile.

Faith arched an eyebrow. "You really think we've reached the spanking phase of our relationship, B?"

"No, I've think we've reached the `no more sex in public places while people who want us dead are two feet away' phase," Buffy answered, continuing to glare.

"Don't think I'm familiar with that one. Sounds wicked boring."

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Knievel."

Buffy pressed her ear to the door, listening closely. "Looks like they went back inside the office." She turned to Faith thoughtfully. "I'm thinking that was the Mayor and one of his human flunkies. At least we got some valuable information out of this little excursion."

Buffy put her hand on the doorknob but Faith coughed meaningfully, inclining her head. Buffy snapped her head down, flushed, and quickly yanked her zipper up. Blushing furiously, she opened the door quietly and leaned her head out. Seeing no one coming, the two Slayers padded down the carpeted hall and crept out the side door.

Chapter 14: Strange Interactions

Author's Notes: Slightly smaller chapter here. Needed to take care of a few things before delving into major plot stuff. Which will happen shortly.

"A dark ritual?" Giles asked, looking interested.

"Yup," Buffy nodded.

"Did you hear anything else about this ritual?" he said, brow furrowed.

"Just that it was fragile. And materials were being prepared. They weren't being very forthcoming with the information," Buffy said, shrugging.

They were in the library the next day after school, discussing the mission. Willow was still behind the computer, and Xander had a biology book open in front of him which he was effectively ignoring.

"They also were talkin' about some vamp named Skinner. Who apparently needs better social skills," Faith contributed, periodically nudging Buffy's leg with her own thigh under the table.

Giles looked at her strangely. "The Mayor's kind of, uh, eccentric," Buffy added helpfully. "Complaining about vamp hygiene and manners. But, our genius theory was right. He was talking about Skinner and his crew rounding up all the Sunnydale vampires."

Giles inhaled deeply. "It's good we know that. And also rather frightening that one person has the resources and manpower to do that." He glanced at the two Slayers again. "Is that all the information you were able to gather?"

"Yeah. They went back into the Mayor's office after that and we, uh, couldn't hear them anymore," Buffy said, trying to keep her voice steady while blushing violently.

Giles didn't appear to notice Buffy's discomfort, but Willow leaned out from behind the computer and smirked at her. Buffy looked at the ceiling, avoiding her eyes and actively praying for her face to regain its normal coloring.

"So, what's it all mean?" Xander asked theatrically, flipping randomly through his biology textbook and thankfully not aware of Buffy's embarrassment.

Giles sighed. "Unfortunately, we don't have the larger picture yet. We know the Mayor's setting up for something, rounding up the vampires to increase his control over Sunnydale, and preparing for some dark ritual. We don't know why, though. We don't know what his ultimate plan is." He took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Angel," Buffy said suddenly, and Faith snapped her head around. "Uh, he said he would go through the seedy demon places, see if he could scare up any info." She hesitantly glanced at Faith and saw the other Slayer's eyes narrowing, her mouth tight.

Giles raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I had forgotten. Why don't you go talk to him, Buffy, see if he can't fill in some of the glaring blanks."

"I'll take Faith," Buffy said, and Faith looked at her, startled.

"Uh, why the hell would you do that, B?" Faith asked, confused.

"He, um — he wants to meet you," Buffy said in a quiet voice. Faith snorted and mumbled a "dead bastard" under her breath which Buffy heard clearly. She kicked Faith under the table.

Giles was looking between them, wearing a lost expression. "I'm going to assume I don't want to know about whatever strange interactions just occurred."

Buffy smiled at him innocently, got up from the table and grasped Faith's hand, pulling her up roughly. "We'll come back with more info, Giles," Buffy said, and began walking towards the door, still dragging a glaring Faith.

~ — ~ — ~

"I'm just sayin', if my stake happens to come out and accidentally plunges itself into his chest, it ain't my fault," Faith said tightly. They were walking that evening in the cemetery near Angel's mansion.

Buffy rolled her eyes, gave Faith a sideways glower. "I'd say stop the pissing contest before it starts, but only one of you has the equipment for that anyway. Stop being difficult."

Faith stopped walking suddenly. Buffy glanced back, startled, and turned to face her. Faith's face seemed to be working with some unknown emotion. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"This — this guy — he loved you, screwed you, and then tried to kill you. Those are three pretty solid reasons why I shouldn't feel extra fuzzy towards him," Faith said, her face and voice intense.

Buffy froze, shocked. "Oh, my God," she whispered, and held a hand to her mouth. "You're jealous," she said loudly and inappropriately happily.

Faith recoiled, scrunched her face up. "What?" She snorted contemptuously. "No, I'm not. He's a goddamn vampire, B. I — I'm supposed to hate him. Comes with the super powers."

Buffy continued to smirk. "This isn't about you being a Slayer, Faith. This is about you being a jealous girlfriend."

Faith snorted again, but it was weaker this time. She didn't say anything for several moments, just glaring at Buffy.

"What if I am, huh? It's your fault, blondie. Fucking with my emotional stability," she said angrily, but her eyes and mouth were soft.

Buffy shrugged innocently. "What can I say? I'm an emotion-wrecker. Sort of like a home-wrecker, but more complicated." She walked over to Faith, smiling softly. "It's really kind of endearing, you being all protective."

Buffy cupped one of Faith's cheeks, stroking gently, and the other Slayer's face softened further. Buffy leaned in and kissed her, and Faith responded. It was soft, tender, and then Faith slid her tongue in and it became slightly less gentle. Hands tangled up in hair, bodies pressed together tightly. When Buffy pulled away, they were both breathing heavily and her head was spinning.

"Uh, what were we doing?" Buffy asked, a little dazed.

Faith appeared to think about it. "Havin' a nice, civil visit with your vampire ex-boyfriend. Who may or may not be a pile of dust in about ten seconds."

"Oh, that," Buffy said, then frowned as she registered what Faith had just said. "No staking. Or biting. Those are two rules I'm pretty firmly enforcing."

"I'm okay with the first one, but I gotta disagree with the second. Biting's part of my sexual vocab," Faith said, smirking.

Buffy rolled her eyes affectionately. "I think the collection of hickies on my neck can attest to that," she said, and grabbed Faith's hand as they began walking towards the mansion again.

"Angel's just curious. And definitely a little jealous himself," Buffy continued, lacing her fingers with Faith's. "And remember that he's leaving, so there's no need for anything dramatic."

They reached the mansion in another couple of minutes, and Buffy squeezed Faith's hand reassuringly before they went in. As they entered, both of them stopped dead, releasing hands.

"Holy shit," Faith said breathlessly. "I've been here before." She looked at Buffy, shocked. "In the dream."

Buffy nodded, stunned herself. The dream seemed eons ago, but it was suddenly crystal-clear in her mind. "Everything's the same. The marks on the walls," she said, gesturing towards the violent gouges Angel himself had done just over a month ago. "Well, except for the raincoat and the IRS allusions. And the lack of ceiling," she added, looking up.

"Also, I'm not saying creepy-ass, morbid things. But, that dream wasn't exactly a happy announcement of things to come." She looked at Buffy, her face hard and wary.

Buffy looked back at her. "I know. Doesn't mean that's how this -"

"Buffy?"

Buffy snapped her head around and saw Angel standing a little awkwardly, hands in pockets.

"Angel," she said, suddenly remembering why they were here.

He looked at the other Slayer beside her, his face smooth. Buffy grasped the magnitude of them being in the same room. It felt as though two huge and distinctly separate parts of her life were connecting in some bizarre and surrealistic situation. The line between dreaming and reality abruptly felt a little thinner.

"Angel, this is Faith. Faith, Angel," Buffy said, looking back and forth between them a little gleefully, a little anxiously.

"Hey," Faith said shortly, sizing him up. She crossed her arms, giving him her patented arrogantly indifferent glare.

"It's good to finally meet you, Faith," Angel said, his voice warmer than Buffy had expected. The corners of his mouth lifted very slightly.

"Can't say the sa -" Buffy elbowed her hard in the side and Faith swallowed. "Nice to meet you, too," she said, through a tight jaw.

Angel nodded, amused and unsurprised at the less-than-friendly greeting. He looked at Faith intently for several moments before turning to Buffy and saying, "So, what brings you two to the deader side of town?"

Buffy glanced briefly at Faith, making sure she wasn't going to do anything stupid. "We're having trouble gathering info on the Mayor. Wanted to know if you had any more success."

"Yeah, actually. I checked out some of the demon haunts, asked around very politely, and got some similar answers."

Buffy looked at him expectantly. Faith was still glaring.

"You know about the vampire situation, I'm guessing?" Angel asked. Buffy nodded. "Well, apart from that, the demons kept talking about something called the `Ascension.' I don't know what that is, but it sounds like some sort of ritual the Mayor has to perform, or maybe undergoes."

Buffy frowned, and Faith's expression changed for the first time. "You get a bead on when this was supposed to happen?" Faith asked.

Angel shook his head. "I got the impression that it was pretty big, though. Needs a lot of preparation."

Buffy and Faith glanced at each other. "So, hopefully not this afternoon," Buffy said, frowning, and then focused on Angel, looking at him gratefully. "This is really helpful, Angel. Thanks muchly." She turned to Faith. "We should get this info back to Giles ASAP. He'll be happy to have something definite to research."

Buffy began to walk out and abruptly stopped. She paused, thinking furiously. This was big. This was bigger than they thought, and they needed help. Faith looked at her quizzically, and Buffy gave her a reassuring smile before glancing towards Angel.

"Angel, do you think me and Faith could talk for a minute?" He looked taken aback, but then nodded.

Buffy grabbed a surprised Faith's forearm and led her out of the mansion. She turned to her as they reached the cemetery grass.

"I want to ask if you'd be okay with something," Buffy said seriously.

Faith looked at her suspiciously. "I'm thinkin' this isn't about spanking."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I wanted to ask if you'd be okay with Angel staying here longer."

Faith's eyes narrowed. Buffy continued quickly, "He's a good fighter, and I have a feeling we're gonna need serious power. Plus, he's got connections and the whole intimidating bumpy forehead." She gestured at her own brow vaguely.

Faith was still looking at her warily. "Faith, this isn't about us. It's about helping the town," Buffy said firmly. "Angel and I are seriously and definitely over. I need you to be okay with this, for the sake of people that aren't us."

Faith crossed her arms in front of her chest. Buffy waited patiently.

"You're lucky I'm so generous and self-sacrificing," Faith said finally, and Buffy grinned. "Ask him, B. But if he touches you, I'm setting him on fire."

"So much for the not being jealous pretense," Buffy said, still smiling.

Angel was looking at them with interest as they walked back in. Buffy stopped, thinking how to word her request. She was still unsure how he was going to react.

"Me and Faith were, uh, talking about — can you stay here longer? Help us with the Mayor?" Angel's brow furrowed and he looked away. Buffy continued, "We need fighters and we need info. And you can help us with both."

Angel's face was heavy with some emotion as he gazed into one of the mansion's corners. "Buffy, you know why I don't want to stay." He glanced apprehensively at Faith before settling his eyes on Buffy. "It's not fair to either of us."

Faith stepped forward, and both Buffy and Angel looked at her, surprised. "Look, big guy, we all gotta make sacrifices. I'll be honest — I don't particularly want you here either. But we both need to suck it up cause there's some nasty shit going down and we're needed." Faith cocked her head, examining him appraisingly. "And if you're as noble as B here says, then you'll feel what I'm saying."

Angel stared at her intently for several moments, looking mildly shocked. Buffy gazed at this person beside her and experienced that disturbingly familiar sensation that she was standing next to, and maybe dating, a complete stranger. She felt as though an entire surface layer of Faith had just been peeled off and she was seeing a new level. Here was another piece to the enigmatic puzzle that was Faith, and Buffy felt a rush of pride at witnessing it.

After several moments of some intense melodramatic staring, Angel smiled. Or, more accurately, the corners of his mouth lifted infinitesimally and his eyes became softer. Angel didn't really smile that much, but this facial expression was the closest he came to relinquishing his stoic broodiness. He nodded.

"Tell me how I can help. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Chapter 15: Release

Author's Notes:

"So, basically, this ingenious plan involves me and Faith waiting around for something horrible to happen, while you guys try to research something that you've never heard of and really have no idea where to start researching?" Buffy said irritably, her arms crossed.

Giles removed his glasses, began cleaning them. "Uh, yes, basically," he said, grimacing.

"No."

"No?" Giles put his glasses back on rather forcefully, glaring at Buffy. "You're refusing to cooperate?"

"Damn skippy I'm not cooperating. That's a horrendous plan, Giles! That's not even a plan — it's procrastination," Buffy said angrily, standing up in a dramatic gesture.

Buffy felt as if half of her life was spent in the library, having conversations about things that really didn't belong in a school library. Or in this reality.

"Well, then be my guest if your superior strategizing skills have thought of a better one," Giles said sardonically, motioning with his hand.

"They have! Or, they're still working on it, but they will have in about 10 minutes," Buffy said loudly, sitting down again and looking petulant.

"How 'bout we try to screw up whatever rituals he needs to do?" Faith asked, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table. "I mean, whatever this `Ascension' is, it needs some major prep time. Let's tear shit up early."

Willow nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Giles, Buffy and Faith shouldn't just wait around for people to die or demons to be summoned. They can throw a wrench in the works." She frowned. "Or a firebomb in city hall, you know, whatever's more appropriate."

Giles sighed. "And how exactly are we going to find out when or what these rituals are? Are we just hoping to accidentally barge in on some elaborate dark ceremony?"

"It doesn't matter, Giles. We mess things up enough, whether or not something's going on at the time, and we can at least scare him. Maybe prevent future bad stuff," Buffy said eagerly.

"What do you propose?"

Buffy stood up again, began pacing. "I say we use Angel again to put his ear to the ground, see if and when the Mayor's making ripples. Even if he can't help, me and Faith go into city hall again, except less with the sneaking this time and more with the hitting. Look for demony objects or books or something and make a bonfire in the middle of the Mayor's office."

Giles looked at her intently. "Very well. But I ask that you wait at least several days. I'm still your Watcher, Buffy, and regardless of how very little you listen to me, I ask that you respect my wishes. I'd prefer to see if we can uncover anything first."

Buffy narrowed her eyes, looking back at him for several tense moments, but then nodded.

"You and Faith can spar in the meantime, to keep up your reflexes and release some energy."

Faith smirked at Buffy, arching an eyebrow and mouthing the word "release" to her. Buffy snapped her head away, blushing slightly, and nodded to Giles again.

"Alright," Xander said loudly, clapping his hands together. "Let's see if we can't use these smelly books for something other than uncomfortable pillows."

Giles glared, sliding a book across the table a little more forcefully than he usually would have. Xander caught it, smiling sheepishly.

"You two can train for now," Giles said, glancing at Faith and Buffy. "Xander, Willow and I will begin researching."

The two Slayers nodded and began moving to the center of the floor, stretching a little. Buffy looked pointedly at Faith's leather outfit.

"You're not changing?" Buffy asked skeptically.

"See, it's a trade-off. I can't move as well, but the other guys get preoccupied checkin' out my fine ass," Faith answered, smirking arrogantly.

Buffy snorted.

"Think that'll apply to you, B?" Faith asked, cocking her head and smiling predatorily.

"Only one way to find out, F," Buffy said, and punched her in the face.

Faith stumbled and Buffy, taking advantage, lashed out with a kick to the stomach. Faith caught her foot, grinning widely, and spun it violently with both hands, causing Buffy to flip in the air and fall on her stomach. Buffy turned over and vaulted up, and the two Slayers, breathing hard and smiling, circled each other, their bodies tight in offensive positions.

Faith spun out with a roundhouse kick, which Buffy ducked, and promptly responded with a ground sweep, trying to take out Faith's legs. Faith jumped over the other Slayer's whirling legs and followed with a sharp boot to a still-crouched Buffy, sending her to the ground on her back. Before Buffy could do more than raise her head, Faith quickly pinned her arms down and straddled her. Faith leaned down close, her mouth inches from Buffy's ear.

"Now why does this position seem familiar?" Faith whispered breathlessly, smirking, her proximity sending involuntary shivers through Buffy's body.

Buffy snapped her neck, head-butting Faith and following up with two feet to the stomach. Faith was thrown off, sliding a little on the ground. She placed her palms on the floor, vaulting up, and grinned knowingly.

"Maybe 'cause you're so used to being on top?" Buffy responded, her eyes glittering, her face flushed. "'Course, you should probably get familiar with the floor now, before I make you eat it."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Hey, if the floor's just the first course -"

Faith didn't have a chance to finish her blatant sexual suggestion as Buffy's right hook connected with her mouth. Buffy moved swiftly behind Faith as she stumbled a little, grasping her forearms and pulling them behind her back with one hand, her other arm wrapped around the top of Faith's chest. Faith, effectively immobilized, struggled, trying to get her limbs free.

Buffy moved in closer, pressing her body against Faith's back. She felt Faith, trembling with adrenaline and not a little arousal, inhale shallowly. Vaguely noticing that she was concealed from the others at the table, Buffy lowered her mouth, mimicking Faith's actions several days, and ran her tongue gently along the length of Faith's neck. Faith shuddered, bit her lip, and let out a small, high-pitched noise that made Buffy smile.

"Not so nice when you're on the receiving end, is it, Faithy?" Buffy whispered into her ear, nibbling on it.

Faith let out a strangled, breathless laugh. "B, if this is your idea of unpleasant, I think we could integrate some more kinky shit into our sex life."

Buffy released the other Slayer's arms, backing up. Her heart was thumping violently, her breathing shallow and erratic, a painful pounding between her legs. Jesus, she thought. This is ridiculous. Punching people shouldn't do this to me. Buffy had just begun to regain control over her breathing when Faith spun around with a roundhouse kick, sending her foot flying into the side of Buffy's head. Buffy staggered, her head spinning from the combination of Faith's kick and the other more enjoyable things that had just transpired.

Buffy blinked, shaking her head, and threw her fist out wildly. Faith easily evaded it and Buffy followed up with a better aimed left hook which Faith dodged as well. Suddenly, she found herself backed up roughly against the wall with Faith's forearm at her neck, their bodies pressed agreeably together. Buffy gaze flicked down to Faith's mouth, just inches away, and then back up to her eyes, dark, wide, and staring at her like she wanted her naked and tied to a bed. Buffy swallowed hard, and found her head leaning forward imperceptibly.

A small, embarrassed cough sounded, and Buffy and Faith jumped, having completely forgotten where they were. Faith backed up so quickly her shoes squeaked on the floor, and Buffy turned her head around to look at the three spectators sitting at the table. Giles, who had coughed, had taken off his glass and was looking at the floor uncomfortably. Xander was gawking at them dazedly, his jaw sagging. Willow was turning a violent shade of red and trying to adopt a casual air in staring fixedly at the ceiling.

Buffy flushed, biting her lip, and saw Faith smirking at her.

"Ah." Giles coughed again, put his glasses back on. "Perhaps this wouldn't be the most suitable location for sparring. It appears our researchers are rather, uh, distracted."

Willow was still gazing intently at the ceiling. Xander was clearly utterly oblivious, staring blankly at Faith and Buffy. Buffy cleared her throat, blushing.

"Right. Our bad. We'll, uh, go look for non-existent vampires somewhere not here," Buffy said, her voice trailing off. She grabbed a swig of water from the bottle on the table and grasped Faith's hand, dragging her off.

~ — ~ — ~

"When exactly did it become so hard for us to control irrational sexual urges?" Buffy asked, frowning, as she and Faith walked out into the heavy evening air.

"Dunno. Since I got this smokin' hot?"

"That's incredibly helpful, Faith. Thanks so much," Buffy grumbled.

"Here's helpful: let's not fight in front of other people. Unless we're in a ring and they're giving us money," Faith added, reconsidering. "B, hitting things for us, it's just -"

"Foreplay," Buffy finished resignedly, sighing.

"Yup. How we're made. Nothin' wrong with it," Faith said, shrugging.

"Okay, ignoring the questionable morality of getting horny over punching things, problems arise when I can barely not jump you in public," Buffy said, grimacing.

"Well, I'd talk about how smokin' hot I am again, but I don't think you'd appreciate it." Buffy gave her a dirty look, and Faith smirked. "Figured. Don't worry about it, B. It's not gonna happen that often and when it does, I'll smack you if things get too frisky. See, unlike some people, I got this thing called self-control." She gave Buffy an infuriating grin.

Buffy snorted, looked at Faith sideways. "Sometimes I wonder how you perform daily functions with how huge your head is and how much bullshit flies out of your mouth."

Faith put a hand to her heart, wincing but still smirking. "Ouch, B. That hurts my -"

Faith abruptly stopped talking, and snapped her head around to peer into the darkness of the street they were walking on. Buffy stopped too, looking startled.

"What is it?" Buffy asked worriedly, trying to look into the darkness as well.

Faith glanced at her, brow furrowed. "You can't feel that, B?"

Buffy shook her head, confused.

"Vamps," Faith said, beginning to smile. "More than one. I'd say our non-existent vamps just got a bit more existent." She looked at Buffy quizzically. "You really can't feel 'em?"

Buffy frowned, looking uncertain. "No, not at all. What's up with that?"

Faith shrugged, smirking a little. "Maybe it's just a fluke. Good thing you've got me looking out for your sorry, defenseless ass."

Buffy smacked her shoulder. "Shut up. Go slay."

Faith began walking towards the supposed vampires. Buffy followed, taking out her ever-present, trusty stake. In a couple of minutes, the two Slayers heard crashes, soft conversation, bushes shaking. They saw a group of vampires prowling around a house with broken windows. The house appeared deserted, crumbling and dark.

"A house? You're trying to take over an empty house?" Buffy asked incredulously, both her and Faith stepping forward. The vampires whirled around, growling. "Where did the ambition go? Where did the urge for sweet virgin blood go?"

"We ain't too concerned with sweet virgins, girly. More concerned with not dyin' while the Mayor does his funky magic," one of the vampires said, moving forward.

"What funky magic?" Buffy asked, suddenly more interested.

"We don't got specifics. All we know is that somethin's going down tonight and we wanna be safe and distinctly not on fire when the sun rises," another vampire said, trying to inconspicuously circle around the two Slayers.

"Well, sweethearts, we can definitely offer a guarantee about the last part. Can't really be set on fire if you're already a pile of ashes," Faith said, smirking.

The vampires growled, suddenly lunging at the two Slayers. Buffy and Faith went back to back, crouching, moving like a violent, smooth unit. They staked two of them before they were separated, Buffy being thrown into one of the house walls. She stood up, cringing at the pain in her arm, and was almost immediately hit in the stomach again. The vampire, leering, sent another punch at her side which Buffy blocked with her forearm. Her head snapped back with a hit to the face, and she felt uncertainly out of her element. She felt sluggish, her arms unusually heavy and limp. Buffy was hurled on her back with another brutal hit, and whimpered a little with the pain.

The vampire, looking gleeful at Buffy's weak position, moved on top of her and opened his mouth wide, preparing to lean down and bite. Buffy held her stake firmly and maneuvered it between her and the vampire, thrusting up and feeling her attacker dissolve. She lay on the ground for several moments, feeling the grass beneath her, her breathing slowing down, hearing grunts and blows several feet away, and finally the sound of Faith mumbling obscenities and the pounding footsteps of a vampire running away.

"Buffy!" Faith yelled, and ran over to her, crouching down beside her. She put her hand on Buffy's arm, her eyes searching for visible injuries.

"You okay?" Faith asked, brow creased in concern.

Buffy, about to answer, looked down at where Faith's warm hand met her skin. Faith looked down as well, their gaze resting for a moment on the point of contact. Their heads rose simultaneously to look in each others' wide, dark eyes, and it was all over. Self-restraint crumbled as quickly as the vampires had.

Buffy grabbed the front of Faith's shirt and yanked the other Slayer on top of her, crashing their lips together and maneuvering Faith's body between her legs. Hands scrambled frantically, tongues sliding forcefully, and moans sounded in tandem as Faith rolled her hips forward in a glorious, friction-filled move.

Buffy could vaguely feel the grass flattened beneath her back as her and Faiths' hips met again urgently, deep groans echoing. Buffy, surprising herself as much as Faith, suddenly and adroitly rolled over and reversed their positions. She barely broke their rhythm as she ground her own hips forward and found the other Slayer's legs wrapped tightly around hers, hands pressed against her ass and shuddering gasps echoing in both of their bodies. Buffy grasped the end of Faith's shirt and lifted it up, sliding her hands along and cupping Faith's breasts roughly, feeling the weight, the softness of them in her palms. Faith arched her back and let out a deep, shaking moan that traveled straight to the rhythmic pounding between Buffy's legs.

Buffy had a sudden urge to feel as much of Faith's skin as humanly possible, and was only reminded of their less than private location by the soft breeze now brushing across her back. Self-control my ass, she thought, frustrated and disappointed. Two emotions which became rapidly subsumed under the overwhelming desire to make Faith happy and writhing, as Buffy heard the other Slayer's uneven gasps and breathing next to her ear.

Buffy moved her hand from exploring the interesting territory of Faith's chest down to open the buttons of Faith's ridiculously complicated leather pants. After an embarrassing several seconds, during which Faith might have rolled her eyes and smirked, Buffy slipped her hand under the lacy (lacy?) fabric of Faith's underwear and slid her fingers into the searing warmth she was searching for.

For being unequivocally straight the majority of her life, Buffy found it odd how much she enjoyed this. It wasn't as if being with Angel had been unsatisfying or unpleasant, or in any way suggesting that Buffy would in the future cross into slightly less phallic territory, but this, what she had with Faith, seemed to reach a new level of intensity. Angel had been about gentleness, tenderness, veneration, but Faith occupied a space of need, of naked hunger and blatant carnality.

As Buffy's fingers slid into that heat, that flowing vulnerability, she marveled at how natural it felt. How ludicrously good it felt when Faith bucked her hips, latched onto various reachable parts of Buffy's body and released her breath in an unsteady groan. Buffy inwardly wondered at the effortlessness and simplicity of the situation, and outwardly let her hands and mouth convey the message.

She trailed her lips and teeth over Faith's neck, feeling the other Slayer's rough breathing and thumping pulse, while beginning to move her fingers rhythmically, urgently in and out. Buffy understood that sometimes, what she and Faith had was the complete opposite of gentleness. It was blunt and coarse, and sometimes that was exactly what they both needed. Faith's hips were rocking with the fierce motions of Buffy's hand, her legs shaking, her entire body thrumming.

"Jesus, B," Faith gasped weakly, and Buffy sucked on her earlobe in response.

Faith arched her back, her hands clutching at Buffy's arms and shoulders, and bit her lip hard as a groan rose deep in her throat. Buffy felt it coming, was nearly there with her, and began to thrust deeper, harder, her palm hitting her clit each time, as Faith clenched around her fingers and went rigid. She came almost silently, back arched, eyes shut tightly, legs wrapped around Buffy's body, face contorted with the sensations tearing through her, mouth open slightly, and Buffy wanted it to last forever because she looked so painfully beautiful.

Faith shuddered a little in its aftermath, slumped on the ground, hands still limply holding onto Buffy's body. Buffy felt their furious heart beats slow down together, her chest pressed against Faith's, as they lay on the slightly damp grass. Something was progressing in her chest and stomach, something tight and wrenching and exquisite, as she continued to look at Faith. This girl, who was on occasion violent, confusing, infuriating, pathologically insecure and arrogant at the same time, and all Buffy could feel was an agonizing tenderness and ... love? Was she in love with her? Crap.

"I guess that answers that question," Faith said in a deep, husky voice, opening her eyes lazily. Buffy felt a rush of irrational fear. What question? Could Faith suddenly read minds? That would be ... problematic.

"Whether you're okay or not," Faith supplied. Buffy smiled, exhaled. She felt that familiar tightening in her stomach looking at her.

"It does seem like my injuries aren't that serious. What with the energetic rolling on the ground," Buffy said, her voice shaking slightly.

Faith was looking back at her with an expression that Buffy couldn't identify. Still hopelessly tangled on the ground together, Faith opened her mouth to say something, and then flicked her eyes away and closed it again. Buffy sighed and began to push herself up, feeling Faith's legs fall back down. She grasped Faith's hand and pulled her up, and they stood inches apart, Buffy still searching the other Slayer's face for that unknown emotion.

Buffy suddenly wrapped her arms around the brunette, held her tightly, inhaled those familiar scents that were Faith, and fell a little further. She released her and stepped back after several moments.

"What was that for?" Faith asked, brow slightly furrowed but smiling.

Buffy shrugged. "Figured I should slip as much sentimental crap in as possible when you aren't expecting it."

Faith stared blankly at her for a couple of seconds and then began smirking. "Good call, princess. 'Cause that shit just isn't gonna fly when I'm my naturally observant self."

Buffy snorted. And then jumped a little as she realized something. "Shit, Faith! That vamp said something about the Mayor doing major spells tonight!"

Faith's eyes widened guiltily. "Oh, yeah. Whoops." She quickly buttoned and zipped her pants back up.

Buffy grabbed her arm and began moving swiftly towards city hall. "Let's pretend we didn't just sacrifice the entire town's well-being for our rampant hormones. And hope Giles never finds out."

~ — ~ — ~

The two Slayers reached city hall in an impressively short time, possibly due to their frantic sprinting. Buffy kept replaying images in her head of the town as a lifeless pile of rubble, and her and Faith attempting to explain to everyone why they weren't there to stop it. She kept hearing Faith shrugging, awkwardly saying, "Whoops?" and Giles' voice yelling incredulously, "You were doing what?!" Buffy ran a little faster, cringing every time she thought of this.

City hall was dark and rather ominous. Neither of them could see any lights, but that just meant that the Mayor was deep inside, conducting whatever illicit activities behind closed windows. Buffy and Faith crept around, going straight for the side door they had entered through before. Faith kneeled down, accessing her lock-picking abilities again, and Buffy stood, alert for any trouble.

"We're in," Faith whispered after a couple of minutes, and she grasped the doorknob cautiously. The door swung open noiselessly and the two Slayers moved forward, eyes scanning the area.

Faith's head snapped around before they could fully enter, her mouth open to cry a warning, and Buffy suddenly felt an object collide brutally with her head. She collapsed, her head whirling and dizzy, and fought to remain conscious. She heard Faith yelling her name frantically, heard the sounds of violent struggling, but they were muffled and distant. Buffy opened her eyes blearily to see the bottom of a shoe flying towards her face, and then didn't see anything after that.

Chapter 16: Loyalty

Author's Notes:

Buffy woke up and immediately felt a jolt of sharp pain. She touched the side of her head gingerly and groaned. Who needs Slayer senses when I can tell if there's a vampire around simply by being knocked unconscious? Buffy thought bitterly. And then she realized where she was. Which was ... where exactly? She looked around warily, her stomach lurching unpleasantly and her head throbbing, and saw nothing familiar.

She was lying on the ground of a room which looked like it hadn't experienced cleanliness for a good 30 years, with crumbling plaster on the walls, dust and debris three inches thick, and a lone light bulb swinging morosely from the ceiling. Faith, she thought suddenly. She looked anxiously around again, not really expecting to see anything different, and knew that the other Slayer was somewhere distinctly not here. If something happens to her, she thought heatedly, but didn't want to finish that painful train of thought.

Buffy rose clumsily to her feet, still clutching her head, and began walking towards the door. She tried the doorknob, found it unlocked, and stopped. That's a tad unusual, she thought. The bulb was swinging slightly, throwing random shafts of light into corners and then receding. Buffy felt a shiver of fear, but took a deep breath and opened the door into a dimly lit hallway. Was this the Mayor's doing? Why would he put me in an unlocked room in a deserted house? Buffy thought, and had absolutely no answers.

Except the word "deserted" probably wasn't appropriate, Buffy mused as she stepped tentatively out into the hallway and heard chuckling and creaks that echoed hollowly around the house. She felt her heart begin to pound furiously, a rush of fear and adrenaline coursing through her.

"Okay, creepiness definitely reaching bad horror movie levels," she whispered, but forced herself to take deep, measured breaths. She was the Slayer, she could handle this. A stake would be nice, though. Or a machine gun.

Buffy stepped forward, her entire body tensed. She walked down the hallway, passing several other doors and saw a stairway ahead of her. She reached the first step and there was another echoing string of deep, amused chuckles that made Buffy's hair stand up. She continued down another couple of steps and the laughter sounded again, except this time it was crisp and clearly behind her. Buffy whirled around and saw a figure, obscured by shadow, at the top of the steps.

"So, you the one behind all the sinister giggles? You should know that laughter, while being the best medicine, isn't really an effective weapon," Buffy said, her voice loud to hide her fear.

The figure didn't respond, and Buffy walked back up the steps towards it, fists clenched. The figure moved suddenly, so quickly that Buffy only had time to blink before he reached the step above her, wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed.

Buffy could see by the dim light that it was a vampire. He sighed, saying in a deep, amused voice that sent shivers up Buffy's spine, "You know, I was going to let you wander around a little, see the beautiful mess I've made downstairs, but I just can't help myself." He began licking a dark, red substance off the fingers of his other hand. "Self-control was never my strong suit."

She felt his fingers close tighter, felt her air flow cut off, and let loose with a hard right hook. He grabbed her fist before it made contact, squeezing brutally and causing Buffy to gasp with pain and shock. She couldn't move. He was so strong, and her arms felt as if they had become jelly. Buffy struggled futilely for several moments, feeling both of his hands grip tighter, and realized with a horrifying jolt that something was terribly wrong with her. She had no strength. No Slayer power. She couldn't fight him. She was going to die, helpless, weak, and alone in some abandoned house.

No, she thought suddenly. I'm not dying here. A resilient determination spread through her, the knowledge that she wouldn't, couldn't die here, not like this. Buffy grit her teeth and kneed him as hard as she possibly could in the groin. He grunted, released her throat and hand, and she spun around and ran down the stairs, grabbing wildly at the banister. She reached the bottom and looked around frantically, searching for an escape, a door. Buffy began sprinting, feeling her heart almost pounding through her chest, towards a door to her right. She yanked it open, rushed inside, and slammed it shut, pressing her back against it and taking deep, gulping breaths. And then she froze as she saw what was inside it.

It was a kitchen, at some time or another. Now there were blood spatters, stains, long streaks running all over it. A body, or the remains of a body, lay on the table. Buffy felt bile rise in her throat as she saw the gashes covering it, the gaping wounds and rearranged anatomy. She clamped down fiercely on her nausea and looked around for objects she could move in front of the door. And then realized that being a normal teenage girl was going to make moving refrigerators difficult. She grabbed the top of a chair, trying to ignore how her hand grew slick with the blood on it, and propped it against the doorknob.

The door abruptly shuddered, something heavy slamming against it. The vampire was chuckling darkly again, and Buffy felt a sharp rush of anger and fear. If this really was it, she was taking this bastard with her. She grabbed a large knife from the counter and felt its comforting heft, and stood in front of the door and waited, as the door shuddered again and the hinges began splintering. Her mind was oddly clear, free of whirling uncertainties. Her body, even if it had lost its strength, remembered the moves, the cold tightening.

The noise and movement stopped. The door stood, ominous in its silence. Buffy listened, heard nothing, and moved forward tentatively. Her fear was returning with the growing unpredictability. She removed the chair and grasped the doorknob, her hand almost steady. Her very normal senses felt unused, dull. Buffy couldn't hear or sense anything as she stepped out onto creaking wooden floors, the dust muffling her footsteps.

She looked around, breathing heavily and feeling something in her stomach trembling at the deafening silence, and saw the front door. Buffy ran over to it, grabbed the handle, and whimpered as it stuck. She pulled at it frantically, and then whirled around as she heard something behind her.

He was grinning in a feral, predatory way. Advancing on her slowly, almost lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. Was this how regular people felt? No control, just helplessly waiting for things to happen to them? She wanted to scream. This wasn't supposed to be how it happened. She was the predator, not the prey. The vampire grabbed her shoulders hard and she shuddered.

"Shh," he said, eerily softly. "It's not dying. It's moving on. You'll see what I mean."

He lowered his fangs and pressed himself close, and then gasped in pain as Buffy shoved the knife into his stomach. Gritted her teeth, twisted it in to the hilt, and felt warm blood spill out. He backed up, looking down at the weapon protruding from his gut and then raised his head and gave her a sick, warped grin.

"This just won't do. Although, I have to say, I do like a woman who's not afraid to get her hands dirty." He bent his hand down to catch the blood. "Don't worry, it's not all gone. I'll save some for you."

Buffy looked at him in terrified horror. No, no, no, no, repeated in her head. She needed a stake. Now. And then gasped as another vampire stepped out of the shadows behind him. The first vampire glanced back.

"I'm sorry," he chuckled self-deprecatingly, "I forgot my manners with the stabbing. This is Bronson. He's a little new. Forgive him if he gets too excited."

Bronson growled, his yellow eyes full of a ravenous hunger. Which widened in shock as he stared down at the stake pushed through his chest. He dissolved with a guttural cry and Giles stood behind him, his jaw clenched, his face hard.

"Giles!" Buffy cried desperately. Frantic hope coursed through her.

He raised his eyes to her and there was something terribly painful and naked in them. Buffy's chest tightened. They looked at each other for a split second and then Giles gently tossed her a stake. She caught it automatically, feeling its reassuring presence, and stepped up with something hot and furious pouring into her stomach.

The first vampire, who had turned slightly to face Giles, crumbled with a strangely resigned expression as Buffy slammed the stake into his chest.

There were several moments of silence and Giles and Buffy stood, staring at the pile of dust. She raised her head slowly to focus on him and was suddenly terrified at the look of crushing guilt and bitterness on his face.

"Giles ..." she started, feeling her voice break. "What's going on?"

He grasped her shoulder firmly, said in a shaking voice, "We have to get back, Buffy."

Giles walked over to the front door, took a heavy, bronze key from his pocket, and unlocked it. Buffy's heart stopped. He walked out, not looking back, and Buffy followed, her chest constricted.

~ — ~ — ~

" — care if I have to walk around town with a goddam megaphone calling her name! We're going looking for her and fuck you if you're not coming!" Faith shouted furiously at Xander, a bloody gash covering her forehead, a crossbow in one hand.

As Buffy opened the library doors to witness this, Faith and Xander's heads snapped around. Xander clapped a hand to his cheek, his eyes rolling to the ceiling in silent, melodramatic gratitude.

"Oh, thank God," he said loudly.

Faith's face, contorted in frustrated outrage, suddenly went slack with relief. She dropped the crossbow on the table in a loud clatter, crossed the room in three long strides and Buffy felt strong, familiar arms wrap around her. She inhaled leather, vanilla, and flowers, and almost started crying at the warmth and safety.

"Jesus, Buffy," Faith said, and she sounded young and scared against Buffy's shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me."

Faith pulled back to look at her, and put her hand gently on Buffy's cheek, tracing the numerous scratches. She stared at her with such naked tenderness and relief that Buffy almost forgot the last two hours.

"What happened?" Faith asked, her eyes and voice hardening.

Buffy glanced over at Giles, her mouth a tight line. "I think we're all a little curious."

Giles, who had been examining the floor intently, raised his head in a slow and pained gesture. "I ... I think you should all sit down. There's something you have to hear."

Faith's eyes narrowed dangerously, but she walked with Buffy over to the table and sat down next to her, never releasing her hand. Xander sat on the other side, his eyes anxiously flicking back and forth between the two Slayers and Giles.

"There has been a test for Slayers ever since the Watcher's Council has existed. On her 18th birthday, a Slayer ... her strength, her powers, are taken from her," Giles began, his jaw clenched and his voice shaky. "She — she is placed in a life-or-death situation as a test of her resourcefulness."

Buffy felt Faith's hand tighten painfully on her own.

"I'm not turning 18 for another month, Giles," Buffy said quietly, her stomach plummeting.

"The Council ... we decided to move up the test, because of the Mayor. The situation was too unstable to do it later." He wasn't looking directly at her.

"We?" Buffy said unevenly.

Giles closed his eyes tightly. "It's an organic compound. Muscle relaxant, adrenal suppressant. Not permanent. You'll have your strength back in a couple of days."

"You — you did this to me?" Buffy asked brokenly, and there were a thousand emotions running through her body.

"I had a role. The instructions were very clear." He looked at her suddenly, and she saw a depth of pain and regret. "I was to administer the compound, to slip it to you somehow. Your water bottle."

Buffy felt a painful comprehension rush through her mind and body.

"You set up everything up ... the vampires earlier, who said the Mayor was doing something. There was never anything going on. You ..." she swallowed. "You put me in that house. With that vampire," Buffy said slowly, rigidly. Something was coursing through her, an agonizing anger that made her stomach lurch and her hands clench. She was holding Faith's hand as if it was a life raft.

Giles started to move forward, just made a tentative movement, and Faith was suddenly standing up between him and Buffy. Buffy blinked and Faith was liquid violence. She had never seen anyone, human or vampire, move so fast. She could see the other Slayer's body, could see every muscle tight and bared.

"If you touch her, I'll kill you," Faith said, and her voice was so quiet and dangerous that Giles took a step back.

He flicked his eyes towards Buffy. "I couldn't — I have a job, Buffy. But I couldn't just sit -"

Giles stopped as the doors of the library opened again abruptly, and an older man, radiating self-importance and purpose, strode in. There was a moment of tense silence as he walked in. He glanced casually over the surprised faces, his eyes landing on Buffy.

"Ms. Summers," he nodded.

"Quentin," Giles almost spat.

Quentin spared him one supercilious glance before turning back to Buffy. "I am Quentin Travers, the head of the Council. I'd like to congratulate you on your success in the Cruciamentum."

Faith turned slightly to face him, and Buffy saw her angry sneer. "Yeah, congrats, B. While these bastards sit back and sip their Earl Gray, you get locked in a house with a psycho vamp." She walked over to him, aggression in her hips, in her hands. Her eyes were bright and lethal. "Gosh, Quentin, we're just so grateful we could be guinea pigs in your mind-fuck."

His brow furrowed. "The other Slayer, I presume. Faith." He frowned. "You are not a part of this. This concerns only Ms. Summers."

Faith cocked her head and smiled a twisted, threatening grin. Buffy had never seen her so tensed, her body language so aggressive. "Maybe you gutless little shits don't understand loyalty, but you fuck with B, you fuck with me. And I'm a little less forgiving than she is."

Quentin looked at her and something uncertain flashed across his smug face for a split second. "I merely came to offer my praise of Ms. Summers. And to attend to Mr. Giles."

Giles' eyes narrowed. "Attend to me?" he asked flatly.

"Ms. Summers passed the test. You didn't. I approached the Council and they've agreed — we have decided to relieve you of your Watcher duties. We're letting you go," Quentin said firmly.

Giles' face betrayed nothing. He raised an eyebrow. "And the reasoning behind this?"

"The Cruciamentum is a test for the Watchers as well as the Slayers, Rupert. You failed to maintain a distance. You disobeyed a direct order of the Council by interfering." Quentin stared at Giles, and there was something sympathetic in his expression. "You have a father's love for her."

Giles looked down. Faith snorted, let out a sardonic laugh. Buffy stood up and put her hand softly on Faith's forearm, feeling muscles tight and moving under her skin. She looked in her eyes and saw Faith's searing anger melt a little.

"Quentin," Buffy started sweetly. "Why don't you go back to England and send my best regards to the rest of the Council. Oh, and this." She raised her middle finger slowly and deliberately, and Faith laughed shortly.

Quentin's mouth was a tight, hard line. "Very well. We'll be sending a new Watcher soon. I hope we can expect more cooperation." He glanced around the room one more time and walked out.

There were several moments of intense silence after his departure. Xander hadn't said a single word since Buffy had come back, and he was sitting and staring at Giles with a hard, disillusioned expression.

Giles looked at Buffy and broke the silence, his eyes oddly bright. "I'm so sorry," he said, and Buffy felt a small part of her anger crumble at the blatant anguish and sorrow in his voice.

She stepped forward, holding his gaze. Faith twitched in the corner of her vision.

"Saying that — it doesn't change what you did to me," Buffy said, trying to keep her voice steady. She saw Giles clench his jaw and tried to stop the trembling in her own palms.

"I want you to listen to me, Giles," Buffy continued, and a note of solid decisiveness entered her tone. "I don't care what that well-tailored weasel from the Council said. You are my Watcher, and I still need you. But I can't trust you. Not right now. Not after what you did."

Giles looked at her, face drawn and jagged, and nodded tightly, his eyes sliding to the ground.

"Take me home, Faith," Buffy said quietly, turning to her after several moments.

"Yeah, B," Faith responded shortly, her eyes flicking to Giles with a small, angry sneer. She took Buffy's hand.

"Buffy," Giles said softly, his voice uneven. Buffy turned around to look at him. "I will do whatever I can to win back your trust."

"I know," Buffy responded, giving him a small smile. She turned back, Faith's hand in her own. Faith swung open the library doors, shooting one last contemptuous glance at Giles before walking out into the hallway, Xander trailing behind them.

Chapter 17: Trust

Author's Notes: Thanks muchly to Sapphire Smoke for helping me figure out what the hell was going on with my banner. Belated — yes. Lame — quite possibly. But, existent? Hells yeah.

Buffy woke up the next morning to find Faith gone. The other Slayer had escorted her home, clasping her hand tightly the entire time. She had padded silently upstairs with Buffy and stood uncertainly by as she collapsed into bed. Buffy had gone to sleep with the image of Faith watching over her, the angry fire still in her eyes softening with a protective tenderness.

Buffy woke up with a sharp twisting in her stomach and the faces of Faith, taut and livid, and Giles, full of anguish, burned into her mind. God, Giles. As she brushed her teeth, she tried to organize her feelings. A small part of her felt as if something had irrevocably changed between her and Giles, as if her basic conception of him had been fundamentally altered. He was a different person to her. He had betrayed her, had stripped her of everything that mattered in her life to fulfill some bureaucratic obligation. The other part of her, the dominant part, wanted to forget everything that had happened, to embrace him and forgive him unconditionally. To only see the sacrifices he had made for her and not the mistakes. To look at his deep pain and guilt and accept that he loved her and that was all that mattered. More than anything, Buffy wanted Giles to be that dependable, trustworthy person to her again. The deep ache in her gut told her it would take time.

She walked into the library in the morning and saw Giles immediately, opening books behind the counter. He looked up at her, keeping his expression carefully neutral, but Buffy saw a flash of fear behind his eyes. He opened his mouth, took a breath to speak, and then apparently thought better of it and closed it.

"Hi," Buffy said quietly.

Giles smiled tightly. "Hello." He shut a book closed and Buffy saw his hands were unsteady. "How ... how are you feeling today?"

"Better," Buffy responded shortly, dumping her bags on the table. "Could open the jar of strawberry jam all by myself, so call it progress."

"I believe it should only take several days for you to — to fully gain your strength back," Giles said slowly. His attention was fixed solely on the books in front of him.

"Good," Buffy said softly.

She saw Giles close his eyes and inhale deeply. "Buffy, I -"

"Don't," she interrupted sharply. Giles looked at her directly, fear and shame clouding his face. "Don't apologize again. It won't change anything." Giles' mouth tightened and he nodded at her, averting his eyes.

Buffy stood up and walked over to the counter. "I want things to go back to the way they were. I want to be able to trust you again. All you can do now is let me," she said, her voice quiet but clear. She tilted her head, catching his apprehensive gaze. "Okay?"

Giles swallowed and nodded. "Yes — I — yes, of course."

"Okay," Buffy responded firmly, putting her hands on the counter and leaning forward. "Now. Down to the real business. Who the hell is Thomas Hobbes and why did he write a book about a giant sea monster?"

Giles stared at her. Buffy drew back, frowning. "That — that probably wasn't the most intelligent way I could have asked that," she said tentatively.

Giles shook his head. "Could you maybe help me not look like an idiot?" she asked timidly, adopting that hopeful, innocent expression that always got her what she wanted.

He smiled at her, shaking his head in exasperation. "I suppose I could do that," he said quietly. He walked out from behind the counter and motioned for Buffy to follow him, a small, contented smile on his face. Buffy felt that unpleasant tightness in her stomach loosen for the first time since yesterday. Instead of the usual foreboding anxiety that occupied her gut so consistently, she felt a warm, comforting conviction. No matter how long it took, they were going to be okay.

~ — ~ — ~

"You shoulda let me hit him," Faith grumbled. She sent a half-hearted kick in Buffy's direction.

"Giles?" Buffy asked, blocking it.

"Him, too, but I meant that little shit from the Council. What the hell kind of pansy name is 'Quentin' anyway? I hope he got his head shoved into a toilet every day in high school," Faith said irritably, her punch a little harder in her anger.

It was the afternoon of the same day. Faith had stopped by after school was over and she and Buffy were in the library, gently sparring. Buffy was already stronger, and the supernatural strength and power coursing through her gave her an indescribable sense of satisfaction, of rightness. She wasn't up to her full strength, but going through the motions still felt good. She recalled all of her earlier wishes to be "normal," to be just like the other girls, and decided to officially renounce normalcy forever. She'd rather be abnormal than helpless.

Buffy smirked and dodged the punch. "I think they probably do something else in England. Like, rubberband his suspenders, 'cause he was obviously born with those on. Or rub beans on toast into his hair." She snorted skeptically. "Why anyone put beans on bread in the first place is something that needs a hefty explanation, though."

Faith stopped sparring completely. She was looking at Buffy with a disbelieving anger. "Why are you treating this like some kinda big joke, B? They fucking poisoned you. Giles betrayed you, and locked you in some condemned house with a crazy vampire and you're all 'forgive and forget, let's be bestest friends again.'" Her voice grew bitter, louder.

Buffy stopped too, staring at Faith. Her smile was gone, her eyes narrowed irately. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Sure fucking looks like it," Faith said curtly. The air was abruptly tighter around them. Like many conversations with Faith, this one had taken an unexpected turn. They stood a couple of feet apart, staring each other down. "I swear to God, B," Faith said, shaking her head in contemptuous frustration and sneering, "you give up so much to people that don't deserve it."

"I'm not giving anything up to him," Buffy responded, trying to keep her voice even.

"Not yet," Faith snapped. "But I know you. You're gonna jump straight back into that naОve little mindset. You're gonna trust him again, even after he pulled that shit."

"If he earns it back," Buffy said shortly.

Faith let out a short bark of mirthless laughter. "If he earns it? What the hell does that mean? When he gets a gold star for not trying to murder you?" She curled her lip up in disgust. "Some people shouldn't be able to earn it back, B."

Buffy peered at her searchingly, brow furrowed. The growing anger inside of her at Faith's accusations was temporarily eclipsed by curiosity. "Why are you getting so mad?"

Faith looked slightly taken aback and then stared at her incredulously. "Why am I getting so mad?" she repeated. "Why aren't you?"

Buffy frowned, considering the question. "Because some things are more important. Because I know how much he gave up for me. I just — I know him."

"Obviously not as well as you think you do," Faith sneered.

Buffy narrowed her eyes, thinking furiously. "Are you having a hissy fit because of what Giles did, or because he did it to me?" She frowned pensively, pursing her lips. "Or possibly both."

Faith's face went rigid. "What are you, my fucking shrink?" she asked sardonically, but there something false and shaking in her voice. "Get the hell out of my head, B."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "You started this little Freudian session."

Faith glared at her. "I don't understand you sometimes, B," she said, sneering slightly and ignoring Buffy's last statement. "If Giles had done that shit to me ... I don't know." She shook her head violently. "Yesterday, when he fessed up ..." she stopped talking, swallowing.

"What?" Buffy asked softly.

"I wanted to kill him," Faith said suddenly, her face full of terrifyingly cold anger. Buffy blinked at her statement, inhaling sharply. "If you hadn't been there ... I think I would have."

Buffy didn't respond at first, still absorbing the level of fury in Faith's voice. "Faith -" she started softly.

"Don't — don't try to talk me down with some bullshit," Faith snarled. "You almost died, Buffy!" she said loudly, suddenly, her voice breaking. Her eyes were still tight with anger, but there was another emotion underneath that made them glint. "I — I couldn't find you, couldn't do fucking anything except sit here with my thumb up my ass!" Her face was twisted in pain and rage.

Buffy's stomach curled painfully watching Faith. Watching the other girl recall her own helplessness at the same time Buffy was experiencing it.

"I know," Buffy said, her voice quiet but forceful. "I know exactly what you were feeling, Faith." She walked forward slowly, holding Faith's agitated, furious gaze. "But I didn't die. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't tell me that," Faith said harshly. "You can't blindly put yourself in the hands of a bunch of assholes and tell me nothing bad's gonna happen."

"No," Buffy said heatedly, giving into her sudden flare of anger. "No, you don't get to put me in some box because you're scared. Stop treating me like some naОve little girl who needs to be protected. You know nothing about me if you think I trust blindly."

Faith's mouth tightened and she averted her eyes, having the grace to look slightly ashamed. There were several moments where Buffy felt her heart return to its normal pace, her blood stop racing.

"I understand, okay?" Buffy said quietly. "I understand why you're afraid. I am too." She sighed. "But stop pretending that we can control everything. Shit's always going to be there to hit the fan, and when it does, we'll deal." Buffy moved forward and lifted her hand hesitantly, cupping Faith's cheek. Faith shuddered a little, but didn't draw away. Buffy traced a line along Faith's cheekbone with her thumb and the brunette turned her head, meeting her gaze. Buffy saw the fire in her eyes receding, the rigidity of her face softening.

"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" Faith said softly.

"It's mutual, trust me," Buffy responded flatly.

Faith's brow furrowed. "I want to," she said quietly, earnestly, responding to the second part of Buffy's statement. Buffy's chest constricted painfully at her tone, at the way the other girl was looking at her. "That's the idea, ain't it?"

"Yeah," Buffy whispered.

Faith leaned forward and kissed her. Soft, open-mouthed, melting into the heat and warmth of each other. Buffy's hand was still cupping Faith's cheek, holding her as they kissed. It was chaste and sweet and all the right kinds of comforting. Buffy thought distantly that all of her arguments with Faith should end like this, with physical reassurance.

"Buffy?" a voice suddenly asked faintly. "Are you there?"

Buffy pulled away from Faith sharply to see Giles stepping out of his office, his expression turning into one of uncomfortable surprise as he registered the two girls' intimate positions.

"Oh," he said quietly. "I — I'm sorry for interrupting."

"You should be," Faith snapped, glaring at him, some of the simmering anger returning to her eyes. Buffy quickly stepped in front of her, getting between them and smiling disarmingly at Giles, who was looking more than a little wary.

"No, it's fine, Giles," she said.

She twisted her head slightly to catch Faith's attention, who was mumbling obscenities under her breath.

"Faith?" Buffy asked quietly. "Don't you have to go pee?"

"What?" Faith asked sharply, confused, and then opened her mouth in comprehension as Buffy continued to look at her plaintively. "Oh. Yeah, sure, I guess I could do that." She shot another glare at Giles before walking towards the exit. As Faith sauntered out the door, Buffy knew she was deliberately swaying her hips more, trying to claim her attention. Buffy snapped her gaze away from the other Slayer's ass as Giles walked over to her.

"I — I just wanted to tell you I found another book to help you with your history course," Giles said quietly.

"Thanks," Buffy said, smiling, and swinging her arm in a "gee golly" movement. "That Tom. He's a character."

"Yes, quite," Giles said distractedly. "I, uh, I don't mean to pry, Buffy, but is there something you'd like to tell me?" he asked, peering at her pointedly.

Buffy felt her heart thump erratically. "Uh — what are you — do you mean — no?" Buffy's level of suave obviously needed help.

"I mean, is there something between you and Faith that has unequivocally not escaped my notice over the past month?" he asked, smiling gently.

"Oh. That," Buffy said, breathing out a weak laugh. "We're kind of ... actually, I'm not sure what we are. Girlfriends would probably be the most accurate term. But feel free to not use it, or remember anything about this conversation," she said brightly.

Giles grasped her shoulder, gave her an affectionate smile. "I assure you, Buffy, I'm happy that you've found someone who won't, how do I phrase this delicately ... sporadically turn into a soulless psychopath. She seems very loyal to you." He frowned, looking pained. "And not particularly happy with me at the moment, I gather."

Buffy looked at him a little warily, a little suspiciously. "The girl-on-girl thing doesn't bother you? You are kind of ... advanced. And tweedy."

Giles adopted an expression equivalent to Buffy rolling her eyes. "Thank you for that vote of confidence," he said sarcastically, and then grew more serious. "Buffy, the only thing that truly matters in these situations is happiness. And, since Faith seems to make you happy, I can only offer my support and blessing."

Buffy smiled widely and unabashedly. "She does. Make me happy, I mean." She frowned a little. "Of course, she can also infuriate me. And confuse me. And make me cry."

"Ah, the wide emotional range of teenage love," Giles said, shaking his head. "Remind me to savor my advanced tweedy state."

Buffy grinned sheepishly. Faith chose that moment to swagger back in, giving them both a dirty look. She walked over to them and Buffy grasped her hand, lacing their fingers together, trying to reassure her. Faith shot Giles another cold glare, possibly less intense this time now that Buffy was stroking her hand, but Giles merely nodded at her, adopting a small, placating smile. Buffy felt a surge of vivid happiness as Faith raised a skeptical eyebrow but smoothed out her antagonistic, rigid expression.

Chapter 18: Fuck the Man

Author's Notes:

Happiness was not the most prominent emotion in Buffy's mind the following week. Her strength returned, and the feeling of being able to punch through concrete again was beyond sublime, but that was about the only bright spot. Well, that and patrolling with Faith, which wasn't so much "patrolling" as not finding any vampires, making out and copping a feel whenever possible.

Buffy walked into the library on Friday, exhausted after two tests, a physics lab, and a general feeling of academic overload, and was confronted with a distinctly unhappy Giles and a strange man in a suit unloading books onto the table. Craptastic, she thought morosely.

"I have to admit, Mr. Giles, I'm a tad surprised that you don't have Oliphent's Paranormal Encyclopedia," the man was saying in a superior tone, his face buried in the box.

"Elephant's Encyclopedia?" Buffy asked. "God, Giles, what is our library coming to when we don't have important books like that?"

The man straightened up, adjusting his tie, and strode over to Buffy with his hand outstretched and a wide smile.

"Buffy. It's a pleasure to meet you." Buffy stared at his hand circumspectly for several moments before he coughed and withdrew it. "I am Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, and I'll be your new Watcher," he said proudly.

Buffy looked at Giles and raised her eyebrow questioningly. Giles sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, saying irritably, "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"So, Wesley, is it?" Buffy asked, and Wesley nodded. "What exactly does this alleged 'Watcher' job entail?"

He looked flustered. "I — I assumed Mr. Giles here had been your Watcher for quite some time. I thought you would be familiar with my responsibilities."

"Not really," Buffy said innocently, shrugging. "I mean, Giles would suggest that, for example, I go stop a demon cult from ushering in the apocalypse, but if I had too much homework or a date or a bad hair day, he would understand."

Wesley looked taken aback for several moments, but then smiled in a knowing, self-satisfied way that made Buffy want to punch him in the face. "Ah, yes. I suppose I'm a little like the surrogate professor that everyone finds necessary to taunt." His brow furrowed. "However, I feel obliged to tell you that I won't tolerate that kind of behavior from you in the future."

"How much in the future? A minute from now?" Buffy asked sweetly.

Wesley gave her a stern look which had absolutely no effect. Buffy walked over to Giles, who was sitting on the table with an aggravated expression, smoothed out her skirt and sat next to him. She whispered in a voice that carried clearly around the room, "Is he permanent?"

"As permanent as those godforsaken weeds that pop up in everyone's bloody lawns," Giles answered exasperatedly, not even bothering with the stage whisper.

Wesley glared at both of them. They stared back, Buffy with a saccharinely innocent look, and Giles derisive and annoyed.

The doors opened and Faith swaggered in with her customary tight leather pants, shit-kicker boots, and tight white sleeveless shirt. She saw Buffy and Giles' expressions and stopped, registering who else was in the room.

"New Watcher?" she asked, sneering slightly and looking at Wesley like he was a well-dressed cockroach.

"New Watcher," Giles answered resignedly.

Faith gave a short, mirthless laugh, walked across the room in several long strides, and grabbed Buffy's hand.

"Fuck that," she said, and began to drag Buffy out the door.

Buffy shrugged at Wesley's incensed, departing face. "She's very opinionated," she said, repressing her laughter as Faith opened the doors.

They walked into the empty hallway holding hands, both grinning widely.

"That was shameless," Buffy said happily.

"Shame is for lesser people, B," Faith answered, smirking dangerously. "We answer to higher gods. Like teenage hormones and bathroom quickies."

Buffy's eyes widened and she dug in her heels as Faith ignored her attempts and continued to drag her. "Faith," she whispered frantically. "We can't — no bathrooms!"

Faith turned around abruptly, put her hands on Buffy's hips and brought their bodies and mouths securely together. Buffy had time for one undignified squeak before Faith's tongue was doing obscenely enjoyable things to her mouth.

Her brain, previously resolutely against doing anything in school, had ceased to function. She unthinkingly wrapped herself around Faith, hands tangling into the wild mess of Faith's hair, hips, chests, shoulders pressed together. Her breath, which just seconds ago had been wrenched forcefully from her, was back with a shallow, panting vengeance.

Faith's hands found Buffy's ass and pulled her firmly forward, and Buffy moaned into Faith's mouth, tongues sliding together, over, under. Faith began shuffling both of them backwards, and Buffy felt her breath hitch as her back hit the lockers, the other Slayer's body melded to hers, grinding into her. Faith moved her mouth down to Buffy's neck, kissing, sucking, biting gently, and Buffy tilted her head back, wrapped her leg around Faith's, and made small, breathless moans.

Faith's hand moved slowly, teasingly down to Buffy's thigh, and then up, playing with the hem of Buffy's skirt.

"See, this is why I can appreciate skirts," she said next to Buffy's ear in dark, husky voice. "Easier access."

Buffy groaned in response, as Faith's hand inched tortuously upwards beneath her skirt. Fingernails scraped gently on the insides of her thighs and Buffy bit her lip and moaned.

Which is how Wesley found them. Buffy had no idea how long he had been staring in incredulous shock, but there was a suspicious squeaking noise and her eyes snapped open. To see the shoes that made the noise and the person to whom they were attached. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide and blank.

Buffy yelped, pushed a surprised and vaguely annoyed Faith from her, and attempted to rearrange her hair and clothing into a semi-presentable ensemble while her stomach clenched with embarrassment. Faith turned around, saw who had interrupted them and smirked, and Buffy found herself fuming and utterly jealous of Faith's unflustered confidence.

"Uh — um, we — Faith was just ... there was a spider?" Buffy finished weakly.

Wesley closed his mouth, blinked, and seemed to regain some semblance of conscious thought. Or possibly just movement, as he turned on his heel and walked back to the library without saying anything.

Buffy buried her violently red face in her hands. "Oh, God," she said, half-laughing and half-seriously-mortified.

Faith looked perfectly relaxed and amused, leaning nonchalantly against the lockers with her arms crossed. "Maybe that'll knock his superior ass down a few pegs. Dickless action always upsets the balance with guys like that."

Buffy took a deep breath and raised her head. "Okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just that our new, painfully stuffy Watcher saw us making out against school lockers and will now probably have a minor aneurysm every time he sees us."

"Or a boner," Faith added helpfully.

Buffy gave her a dirty look, which Faith smirked at. "We should probably go back," Buffy said unhappily. "See what he wanted."

Faith snorted, looked at Buffy, and then rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay. Better be quick. I'm a busy girl, you know, got things I'd rather be doing," she said, smirking, and rolled her eyes up and down Buffy's body in a way that made something curl in the pit of her stomach.

~ — ~ — ~

They swung open the library doors, and it seemed to Buffy like she opened those doors more than she opened the door to her own room, and stopped suddenly.

"Angel," she said, surprised.

He was standing near the table, shifting awkwardly. Wesley was carefully avoiding looking directly at either of the Slayers and Giles was still sitting on the table wearing an expression of repressed glee and smugness. Buffy flushed, realizing that Giles had figured out why Wesley was staring intently into a corner and turning a strange, unnatural puce color. She wanted to disappear into the floor, but she turned to Angel instead, hoping that her face wasn't as blazingly red as it felt.

"What's up?"

Angel glanced around uncertainly, picking up on the strange atmospheric ripples. "Got some information you might want to hear."

Everyone in the room raised their eyes and perked up, eager for a potential distraction.

"Heard through the demon grapevine that something big's getting shipped in. Something the Mayor needs for a ritual." He smiled slightly. "One of his vamp employees had a few too many yak blood shots at Willy's, and I happened to be in the right spot to keep paying for them."

"When?" Buffy asked excitedly.

"Tomorrow night. At the docks."

"Do we know exactly what this ingredient is?" Giles asked, brow furrowed.

Angel shook his head. "All I know is that it's important and the Mayor might be a little ticked off if it was damaged."

Faith grinned predatorily. "Wouldn't want that, huh, B?"

Buffy sighed. "Just a damn shame," she said gravely.

Wesley suddenly stepped forward, his hand out and finger pointed upwards. "I would like to have some say in this matter," he said in a high-pitched, distraught voice.

"Would you?" Faith asked rudely. "Seems like you were having trouble sayin' anything just a few minutes ago, Wes."

Wesley turned an unattractive purplish-red color. "Uh — well, yes — that may — I am the Watcher here," he finished, suddenly stronger. "I am the voice of the Council and you and Buffy must follow my instructions."

Faith sneered at him and Buffy glared. "So, instruct away," she said tightly.

He straightened up a little, looking more self-assured. "You and Faith will go to the docks tonight. We need to make sure Angelus' information is correct, and scout the area. You will watch for any suspicious activity and report back to me."

"What?" Faith said, her face scrunched up in contemptuous scorn.

Angel craned his neck, said loudly, "Uh, it's just Angel, actually."

"That's a shit plan," Faith continued angrily. "Nothin's going down 'till tomorrow night and one of the Mayor's flunkies might see us anyway, blow our chance of surprising them."

"Are you questioning my orders?" Wesley asked, puffing out his chest, his eyes narrowing.

"No," Buffy said suddenly, grabbing Faith's forearm as she opened her mouth in a retort. "We'll go check it out." Faith shot her an angry, hurt look.

Wesley smiled smugly. "Very well. You two should return here by," he checked his watch, "11. That will give you enough time to properly explore the area and see what kind of unsavory characters are hanging about."

Buffy nodded while Faith crossed her arms and glared. Buffy turned to Angel. "Thanks, Angel. Knew we were keeping you around for some reason," she said, smiling.

Angel gave her a small smile in return. "Well, I have to keep up my terrifying, 'demon that hell itself spat out' image in Sunnydale."

Buffy grinned and dragged an unwilling Faith out the door. As soon as they were out in the hallway, Faith wrenched her arm roughly out of Buffy's grasp and turned to her irately.

"Thanks for the back-up, B," she said bitterly. "It's a shit plan and we both know it. I guess I'm just the only one's who got the balls to say it."

"It's a shit plan," Buffy said. Faith blinked. "We're not doing it, by the way. I just needed to get him off our backs. We're going to the Bronze, dancing until 11, and then coming back here and making something creative up."

Faith's wide, unabashed grin made the entire conversation worth it, Buffy reflected.

"Lead the way, girlfriend. How's it feel committing your first 'fuck the man' act?" Faith asked, draping her arm casually around Buffy's shoulders as they started to walk off.

"I feel liberated. Maybe we should commit further crime and liberate me some more," Buffy said happily, smirking.

"I got a plan of my own, B. Involves liberating you from those constricting clothes," Faith drawled in that dark, husky voice that made Buffy's skin prickle with heat.

"I admire your strategizing skills."

Chapter 19: Something New

Author's Notes: I need a little disclaimer: this chapter is sex. All sex. Pure, 172% sex. Fair warning for any recovering fan fiction sexaholics and those perusing fics for profound, philosophical dialogue. Sorry. For the remainder of you: enjoy. Oh, and it's also a little short. The next chapter'll be significantly longer.

The Bronze was a hot, writhing mass of people into which Buffy and Faith managed to insinuate themselves. They found a spot near the center, the music pounding rhythms in their ears and bodies, and wrapped around each other. Their hips swayed, collided fluidly, hands swarming and mouths and lips brushing over heated skin. They threw themselves into the music, into each other with unrestrained abandon.

A circle formed around them, giving them space, making them a display. Dark and light moving together in a sinuous, aching dance. Limbs so tangled that no one could really tell who wore the leather pants and who wore the skirt. They barely noticed the naked stares, enveloped in their own personal reality.

Buffy bit down on the side of Faith's neck, where her pulse throbbed like the beat between Buffy's legs, and she tilted her head back and moaned into the air, raw with energy and desire. Faith rode Buffy's thigh until they were both gasping and wet, until Buffy's stomach hurt with the clenching and coiling, exquisite heat. She buried her face in Faith's shoulder, felt the other Slayer's hips rock against her thigh slowly and deeply, and wanted to feel naked in her, around her, with her.

They drew back and Buffy saw Faith's eyes, dilated and vivid with lust, and shivered. She laced their fingers together and led her out the door. Eyes followed them and they were oblivious. They stepped outside, breathed in air clear of bodies and longing, and looked at each other. There was a moment where Buffy would have let Faith fuck her anywhere if it had gone on any longer, but she knew what she wanted and drew back.

"We're going to your motel," Buffy said, and Faith's eyes glittered as she nodded. They walked swiftly, blood still hot and coursing, fingers intertwined, and Faith opened her door with shaking hands.

They walked inside, and Faith had barely opened her mouth to say something, probably about how crappy the room was, before Buffy pushed her roughly against the door, slipped her tongue into her mouth, and slid her hands underneath Faith's shirt, cupping her breasts. Faith let out a guttural moan, muffled by Buffy's mouth, and Buffy felt it pour through her body like the molten liquid rushing between her legs. Faith surrendered completely, giving herself to Buffy's hands. She whimpered softly as Buffy leaned back, grasped the hem of Faith's shirt and lifted it over her raised arms.

Buffy leaned in, lips fluttering over Faith's jaw, hearing short bursts of breath against her ear. She moved her mouth to Faith's neck, tongue flicking out to taste the salt and need on her skin, feeling her pulse pounding under her lips. Her hands went to Faith's stomach, gliding over firm, heated flesh to press against the warm muscles of her back. Buffy vaguely thought that she could stay all day in this position, exploring the naked, curving expanse of Faith's back, savoring how the brunette's breath hitched when Buffy hit a particularly sensitive area. But she had more ambitious goals. She moved her hands up, finding the elastic strap of Faith's bra and, fumbling for a few moments, unhooking it. She drew back, sliding the offending material off as Faith stretched out her arms and unceremoniously flung it away.

Buffy backed up and just looked at her, examining her handiwork. Faith's naked chest was rising and falling with her shallow breaths, her nipples taut and straining, breasts round and full and heaving with her exhalations. Her eyes were impossibly dark and wide. There was a curious expression on her face — part blatant desire, part trepidation, part pleading anxiety. The brunette didn't move, though, didn't initiate anything. She was waiting for Buffy, relinquishing that control she loved. Faith watched her, hands hanging by her side, and waited for her. Buffy felt a tight wrench in her stomach at the sight.

Buffy stepped forward and put out her hands, uncertainly at first, just brushing against skin, but then felt Faith shiver and cupped her breasts completely. The other girl let her breath out in a tight hiss, hands slamming into the door behind her. Buffy held Faith's breasts in her hands for several minutes, feeling their warm weight, their suppleness, their bare softness. She gently rolled the nipples between her fingers and Faith inhaled sharply, arching into her palms. Buffy met Faith's urgent, wanting gaze and kept eye contact as she moved her mouth down to replace one of her hands. Sucked softly, pulled a nipple into her mouth and grazed it lightly with her teeth, and a deep, shaking groan was ripped from the brunette's throat.

"Buffy," Faith gasped, pressing into her more.

Her name — beseeching, expressing an indefinable question, full of tentative need and sounding almost foreign coming out of Faith's mouth — pushed foreplay entirely out of Buffy's mind. Buffy switched breasts, swirling her tongue around Faith's other nipple, while her hands moved swiftly down. Removed her mouth from Faith's breast and unbuckled the other Slayer's belt, pulling it off her in a violent, fluid movement. She felt Faith shudder as she unbuttoned her pants, kneeled and tugged them off of her. And then stayed on her knees as she ran her hands up Faith's calves, knees, thighs and heard her respond with sharp gasps.

Buffy moved slowly to the top of Faith's underwear, fingers playing with the elastic, and felt her muscles fluttering, trembling under her hands. Buffy slowly tugged Faith's panties down, let them fall in an ungraceful pile at her feet, and leaned in to kiss the inside of her thighs. She heard a slight thump as Faith's hips bucked against the door, as Faith's hands moved down to tangle themselves in her hair. She breathed in, inhaling Faith's scent, her arousal. It surrounded her, pervasive and enveloping, a deep, earthy smell that made her light-headed.

She had never wanted something as much as she wanted to taste, to explore at that moment. She wanted to have Faith writhing, crying out, hands buried deep in Buffy's scalp. She took one of Faith's thighs, draped it over her shoulders, and heard Faith breathing shallowly, whimpering with want and uncertainty.

Buffy leaned in further, and flicked out her tongue for a first taste. Faith moaned deeply, her hips surging forward as Buffy began moving her tongue experimentally, searchingly through wet folds. She was sweet, with a hint of salinity, and Buffy drank her in. She flicked her tongue gently, rhythmically against Faith's clit and the other Slayer cried out weakly, her fingers grasping Buffy's hair. Buffy moved her hand up, fingers moving through that heat and slid them in effortlessly.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Faith was repeating in a breathless mantra. "God, Buffy. Fuck."

Buffy would have smiled at the expletives if her mouth wasn't occupied. She moved her tongue in wide, thorough circles, alternating between strokes and light flicking, while her fingers pushed slowly inside, thrusting deeper each time. Faith's legs were shuddering, her walls pulsing around Buffy's fingers, her hips banging into the door as they surged with Buffy's mouth. Buffy felt powerful, reckless, vibrant, and utterly intertwined with Faith. Her pleasure was Faith's, and every moan and gasping "fuck" fed the heat in her belly and between her legs.

Faith suddenly went silent, her obscene mantra cut off as Buffy felt her body go rigid, all of her muscles tensing. Buffy pressed her tongue as hard as she could against Faith's clit, driving into her and curling up inside her, and felt Faith's walls clench violently around her. Faith's hips and legs convulsed, her hands tangled pleasurably in Buffy's hair, and she came with a shattered cry.

Buffy stayed buried inside her, mouth on her, held her as Faith's orgasm tore through her and her body shuddered ferociously. She slumped after several moments, and Buffy, still holding her, stood up and saw Faith open her eyes. Buffy ran her thumb gently along Faith's cheekbone, leaned in and kissed her slowly, languorously, as Faith held on weakly.

She drew back and found Faith wearing a peculiar expression. She looked ... lost. Her face was full of uncertainty, shining eyes narrowing in confusion as they met Buffy's. Buffy furrowed her brow, opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but found Faith's insistent mouth on hers before she could speak. Her train of thought was abruptly derailed as Faith's tongue traced her bottom lip and then slid in, twisting against hers.

Faith walked them both backwards, not breaking the kiss. Buffy could feel Faith's naked chest and groin pressing into her, slight wetness and heat reaching her even through her clothes, and she shuddered with it. Faith's hands were resting on the thin strip of bare skin between Buffy's skirt and top, drawing light, scalding circles with her thumb. Buffy felt the back of her knees hit the bed unexpectedly and almost fell, releasing an undignified squeak, but Faith's arms suddenly encircled her, holding her tightly. There was a moment where they simply looked at each other, reading lust and emotion and need in each other's eyes. Then Faith moved her hands to the bottom of Buffy's shirt and began sliding it up languidly, palms hot and blazing in its wake.

Buffy lifted her arms as her shirt slid over her bra, Faith's hands caressing her breasts in an excruciatingly slow movement. Buffy's knees almost buckled, a whimpering moan leaving her mouth. Her entire body was pulsing, throbbing under Faith's hands. There was a fire in her gut, between her thighs, flaring on her skin wherever Faith's fingers grazed. Her nipples were painfully hard, her legs shaking. She watched Faith touch her, look at her with tenderness and desire, and couldn't stop shivering.

Faith began removing Buffy's clothing, one piece at a time, unhurriedly, sensuously dragging them along her skin. Faith looked like she was performing some complicated math problem, her brow furrowed, her throat working, teeth pushing against her bottom lip. She was going so slowly, so gently, so infuriatingly softly. Buffy was savoring it and simultaneously going insane with it, needing more pressure, more friction while relishing the tenderness in Faith's hands. Shirt, bra, and skirt flung unceremoniously away, until she was standing uncertainly in her underwear.

Faith suddenly dropped to her knees, as Buffy had done just minutes ago, and leaned forward and kissed Buffy's stomach. Buffy let out a strangled sigh, hands clenching uncertainly. Faith dragged her tongue down, leaving a trail down Buffy's stomach, and reached the elastic of her panties. And then she took the top of Buffy's underwear between her teeth and dragged them down. Buffy stared down at her in sexually-overloaded shock, wondering vaguely how the fuck she just did that, and feeling an impossibly warm gush between her legs. Faith's mouth removed her panties, warm breath ghosting over swollen folds, and Buffy suddenly couldn't stand anymore. She sat down hard on the bed.

Faith glanced up at her, unsurprised at her sudden posture change. Her lips curled in that gentle, arrogant smirk, the first time tonight, and Buffy's heart fluttered with it. Faith dropped Buffy's panties on the floor in a nonchalant pile and stood up, and Buffy realized that they were both entirely and unabashedly naked. For the first time. She felt a sudden urge to cover herself, and crushed it down savagely. This wasn't about that. Feeling a surge of boldness, Buffy slid herself back on the bed, lying down fully in front of Faith and letting her legs fall casually, not making any effort to close them.

Faith let out her breath between her teeth, eyes glinting. Hands pressing on the bed, she moved to Buffy, hovering over her, hair falling around her face in a soft curtain. Everything else had ceased to exist for Buffy. She was mesmerized by the soft glint of Faith's eyes, of the fluid way she moved, of the heat swirling between them.

Faith bit her lip, meeting Buffy's gaze, hesitating a moment in anticipation, and then lowered her body between Buffy's legs. They both moaned, loudly and unrestrained, with the contact of bodies, the delicious pressing together of breasts, bare stomachs, hips, groins. Faith rolled her hips forward, in one slow, undulating motion, and ripped a guttural groan from Buffy.

"Faith," Buffy gasped, and moved her hands to Faith's back, pressing into her.

Faith settled into her, stilling her hips, and Buffy made an incredulous noise. Faith's fingers were tracing her breasts, brushing softly under their curves, circling her nipple. They moved to her sides, gliding over curves, hard muscles and bone, sweeping over her stomach. Faith caressed her everywhere, leaving streaks of heat and electricity and an insufferable throbbing between her legs. Buffy was gasping, fingers digging into Faith's back, head thrown back. Faith's fingers moved down, down, sliding over hip bones and then ... moved back up again. Buffy clenched her teeth and looked at the other Slayer.

"Faith?" she asked softly, questioningly. "What ..." her voice trailed off, not entirely sure what she was asking.

Faith didn't answer her for a moment and then raised her head. "Just ... let me do this, B," Faith said in a soft voice, looking at her with huge, bright eyes.

Buffy looked back at her, frowning in utter confusion before realizing something. She understood completely. Faith was right. They had never done this. Even in the cemetery, buried so far in each other Buffy didn't know whose fingers were where, they had never approached this level of vulnerability, this level of metaphorical and literal nudity. What they were doing now — it was open and exposing and almost terrifyingly uncomplicated. This was about emotion. Lust was simply a consequence. An effect, not the cause. Faith, with trembling, uncertain fingertips and eyes soft with tenderness, was telling her as much.

This was something completely new for Faith. Sex hadn't ever been about emotional connection for Faith — her experiences revolved around quick, nameless fucks. It was a mean to an ends. It was just another way for her to get what she wanted. It was hard and fast and ungentle, about pure possession and dominance. What was going on right now, was something as undiscovered to Faith as German philosophy was to Buffy.

So Buffy understood. She lay back, took Faith's head in her hands and kissed her gently, telling her it was okay. She pulsed under the slow, exploratory progression of Faith's hands and mouth, teeth and tongue eventually replacing fingertips, and savored it. Savored the anticipation, the delay, the gentleness. And when Faith finally slid into wet folds, it was the sweetest thing she had ever felt. Faith started slowly, pushing into her with long, drawn-out strokes. They rocked against each other, a rhythm in Faith's hands and Buffy's breathing. They rolled forward and back like ebbing waves, slowly building up that fire in the pit of Buffy's stomach. Faith pushed in and out of her until she was a shuddering, gasping mess, until she was clenching around the brunette's fingers like she never wanted her to leave.

Buffy's hips surged with the motions of Faith's hand, her back arched, fingernails digging sharply into Faith's back. Her legs were wrapped around Faith, quivering as Faith's hips pressed into her with every thrust, heaving with her. Their bodies were slick with sweat, sliding against each other, building up that rolling, exquisite cadence until the pace increased to something harder and frenetic and painfully right. Until Faith's fingers were curling inside, driving into her and reaching spots that made Buffy weak with sensation. Until she was twisted from the inside out and mouths and hands and bare skin were the only things she could comprehend.

Buffy came with a fractured cry, as she finally reached that peak and her orgasm expanded suddenly and fiercely inside of her. She closed her eyes, scraped her nails so hard against Faith's back that she might have drawn blood, and it utterly shattered her. Her head was full of white noise, blank buzzing as she rode it out, as Faith's fingers stayed inside her pulsing walls and she was surrounded by hot, oblivious ecstasy. After what could have been 10 seconds or 25 minutes, she collapsed against the bed, head spinning, limbs warm and torpid.

She opened her eyes to see Faith watching her, a small, warm smile on her face. Buffy raised a shaking hand and brushed the damp strands of hair out of Faith's face, fingertips running over hot skin. Faith closed her eyes and melted into her touch. She was glowing, so purely content, face smooth and unburdened. She looked young. She looked beautiful. Buffy's breath hitched at the sight.

"Why did we wait so long to do this?" Buffy whispered. Graveyard quickies suddenly seemed distant, seemed indescribably empty.

Faith opened her eyes and smiled at her. "Fuck if I know," she said hoarsely.

Buffy grasped the other girl's shoulders and deftly and abruptly rolled them over. Faith whimpered as Buffy's hips pressed into the warmth between the brunette's legs.

"You know," Buffy said, smiling and cocking her head, "I have this strange memory of promising to report back to our new Watcher."

"That's odd. 'Cause I have the exact opposite memory of promising never to talk to his sorry ass again," Faith croaked.

Buffy lowered her head to Faith's bare breast, drawing her nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. Faith inhaled sharply, hips bucking.

"Let's split the diff and say we ignore him for tonight," she whispered against Faith's chest. And then proceeded to slide her way down Faith's still-slick body, mouth moving towards its destination.

Chapter 20: Reactions

Author's Notes: So, I have to deal with some stuff over the next week and I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to post. I will do my very best to keep it regular, though.

Buffy opened her eyes blearily to see a dazzling shaft of sunlight peeking through the blinds. There was a moment of slight confusion at the unfamiliar scenery, but then she experienced a rush of ridiculously pleasant memories from last night and smiled. They hadn't stopped touching, tasting, writhing, wrapped around each other, for hours and hours. Buffy didn't think she had felt, during her entire life, a fraction of what she had felt last night. Feeling, sensations, (positions) that she hadn't imagined. She could still see Faith's eyes, full of gentle need, and the trembling in her fingers as she touched her. Could feel a diffuse, eminently satisfied ache between her legs, a remnant of last night's activities.

She inhaled the scents of the motel room, of sex and vanilla and Faith, and then frowned as she realized she couldn't feel a warm body behind her.

Buffy twisted around to see the other side of the bed and found it empty. An irrational rush of fear went through her, an unwelcome memory surfacing of waking up in a similarly empty bed last year.

She closed her eyes tightly, breathing deeply, and felt the surge of overwhelming apprehension slowly recede. Not the same situation, she told herself. No "perfect happiness" loop with Faith. A prickling of anxiety remained though, because where would Faith go? This was her motel room.

Buffy threw back the sheets and began picking up her clothes strewn around the room. She plucked her bra off the corner of the dresser, put everything hastily on, and opened the door to blazing, distinctly non-morning sunlight. Shit. Her mom would be frantically worried by now, not to mention Giles and Wesley, although the latter would probably be more outraged than concerned with her well-being.

She paused before stepping out. Should she wait for Faith, see if she was coming back? Buffy hesitated and then shook her head. No, she had to check in with her various authority figures before one of them spontaneously combusted.

Twenty minutes later, Buffy arrived at her home to confront and mollify her anxious mother, whose relief at seeing her daughter safe was quickly replaced by indignant anger at her absence. She took a quick shower, changed, and, after reassuring her mother than she was not going to disappear for another 22 hours, walked towards the school. She reflected that her morning just wasn't going that well, and that Wesley probably wouldn't help matters.

"This is absolutely unacceptable," Wesley said in a high-pitched, affronted voice. Buffy had opened the library doors to see Wesley standing two feet away and waiting for her, arms crossed and fuming. Yup, she thought resignedly. Not really helping.

Giles was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame of his office, eating an apple and looking vaguely interested at the events unfolding before him.

"I agree completely," Buffy said, semi-earnestly. "Have you seen Faith?"

Giles frowned. "Did you get separated last night?"

Buffy blushed furiously, thinking of the distinct lack of separation that happened during the majority of last night. "Uh — well, um — yes?"

Giles raised an eyebrow, giving her a stern, "I can see right through your crap" look. Buffy folded.

"She, uh, wasn't at her motel this morning ... when I woke up." She said the last part in a very quiet, timid voice. Giles snorted, mumbled something resembling "bloody adolescent libidos."

"This is beside the point!" Wesley interrupted. "We were discussing how you went gallivanting off last night with no regard for your responsibilities!"

"And we can totally continue that lovely conversation after I find Faith," Buffy said distractedly, frowning.

Had something happened to Faith? Had she just taken off after Buffy fell asleep? Did she do something wrong last night? Was she bleeding profusely somewhere? There seemed to be an intensely disturbing trend for significant others to disappear after sleeping with her, Buffy reflected anxiously.

Wesley sputtered a little, preparing to launch into another diatribe, and Giles cut in. "It would be prudent to find Faith. We need to prepare for tonight, and you can admonish them all you want when they're together," he said firmly, addressing Wesley.

Wesley paused, narrowing his eyes. "Very well." He straightened his tie self-importantly. "Buffy, go locate Faith."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "What a great plan, Wes. Such initiative."

"No need to be sarcastic," he retorted testily. "Where do you believe she could have run off to?"

She frowned, felt another wave of apprehension. "I don't know," Buffy said quietly, frustrated. How one person could cause this much confusion and anxiety in her was an utter and unpleasant mystery.

"Does she frequent certain locations? Certain hang-outs?" Wesley continued, his irritation decreasing in the face of Buffy's blatant anxiety.

"The Bronze? But that's at night." She shook her head. "She does, you know, Faith-things during the day, like sleeping, and watching TV and — and walking around town like she's the hottest piece of ass on the west coast." Buffy looked off into the distance with a blissful, dazed expression.

Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly and Buffy's head snapped back down. "Right. Focusing."

Buffy began pacing, her head down, obviously thinking hard. Wesley watched her uncertainly, Giles calmly. She stopped abruptly, inhaling deeply, her brow still furrowed. The two men waited as several moments passed in utter silence.

Buffy turned around to look back at Wesley and Giles and her eyes were hard and resolved. "Okay. New plan not involving useless pacing. I'll go around town, check out the busy places. I'll be back here before nightfall."

Before Wesley could do more than raise his hand and open his mouth, Buffy had grabbed a stake and marched out of the library, muttering darkly, "If I find her and she hasn't been injured in some gruesome way, I'm killing her."

~ — ~ — ~

She did neither. After wandering around town in a state of rapidly progressing anxiety, going to all the places that Faith even might visit, Buffy walked back to school. Deep red and orange from the sunset were slanting across the library door when she swung open the doors harder than she intended, and was confronted by her friends' and Watchers' hopeful faces. The others watched as she walked over to a chair, collapsed into it, and buried her head in her hands.

She wanted to cry, to yell, to hit Faith repeatedly and tell her what a dumbass she was being, to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Instead, she ran her hands through her hair, took a deep breath, and raised her head to play her part.

"Faith's not coming. This doesn't change the fact that we're needed, that the Mayor's getting something tonight that we have to stop," Buffy said, and her voice held that familiar steel. "Xander, Willow, you guys'll hang back, use the crossbows, 'cause things are gonna get hairy. Wil, if you have any fighting spells, now would be a good time to dust off the newt's eyes. Wes," she looked to him, "you know how to fight?"

Wesley held his chin higher. "I was trained by the Council to be proficient with all weapons and forms of combat." Buffy continued to stare intently at him, raising an eyebrow skeptically. He slumped. "No, not particularly."

"Right. If Faith shows up, then great. If not, we'll fight without her. And we'll win, because that's what we do."

The others nodded at her. Buffy stood up and began selecting weapons. This wasn't time to be "Buffy the High School Student," or "Buffy the Teenage Girl Caught in a Dramatic Lesbian Relationship," this was time to be "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." It was time to push all those superfluous emotions and feelings under battle techniques, ambush tactics, weapons knowledge. Regardless of how little she actually listened to Giles' lectures, he was right — the Slayer had to make sacrifices. She could do that, would have to do that, and she could cry about Faith later.

The group made their way to the docks when it became dark, being as quiet as possible as they arrived. Buffy and Giles went first, crouched behind several wooden crates, and witnessed a sizeable group of vampire employees waiting and looking attentive. They couldn't see the Mayor anywhere, but it was possible he was waiting in a distant, safer spot. Buffy counted twelve vampires and a sleek, black limousine waiting, and her shoulders slumped. Twelve was too much for two Slayers, let alone a group of semi-experienced, terrified teenagers.

"We waitin' for something?" a quiet voice said next to them, and Buffy had a minor heart attack.

She gasped, put a hand to her thumping heart, and turned to her left to see Faith crouching next to them. She felt a thick, overwhelming relief, so intense it was almost enervating, and then a hot flash of anger. Buffy opened her mouth to whisper something unpleasant and scathing, and then paused as she really examined the other Slayer.

Faith's clothes were coated with dirt and dried blood, her eyes deep-set and hooded, her make-up caked and smudged. There was a long gash on her arm, small scratches on her face, and a pungent smell of day-old alcohol floating around her. She was looking at Buffy with her customary predatory grin that didn't entirely hide the profound sadness and anxiety in her eyes.

Buffy felt her heart wrench, her stomach tighten with a multitude of emotions. She ignored them temporarily and wrapped her arms around Faith, hoping she could convey a measure of her relief silently. She could feel Faith's muscles tensed, her entire body stiffening, before she exhaled deeply and slumped into her arms. Giles looked away and seemed to be utterly fascinated with the vampire employees, one of whom was picking something out of his fangs.

Buffy drew back and found Faith's eyes refusing to meet hers. She put her hand under Faith's chin, brought her head up firmly, and saw her eyes bright and wavering.

"Don't, B," Faith said shakily. "Not now."

Buffy's mouth tightened, but she nodded. Faith turned from her slightly, wiped her eyes surreptitiously with the palm of her hand, and slipped into that familiar, reckless character. She turned back to Buffy with violence in her smile, and Buffy quietly handed her a sword.

"What's the plan?" Faith whispered.

Buffy pointed at a rapidly approaching boat, just visible by the blinking lights on its bow. "Stop whatever comes off that. And try not to die."

The boat cut through the water and pulled up to the docks, where the vampire employees tethered it and waited attentively. Buffy saw one of the vampires giving instructions, a large, brawny guy with a scar running down the side of his long, thin face. He was snapping out directions in a voice that expected nothing less that absolute and unquestioning obedience. Skinner, I presume, Buffy thought.

A man stepped off the boat then, darkness shrouding his features, wearing a top-hat and carrying a hefty-looking box. He approached Skinner, who was watching him closely, and they proceeded to have a conversation in short, clipped voices that Buffy couldn't hear.

After receiving an envelope, the man handed the box to Skinner, tipped his hat and walked back on the boat. Buffy twisted around and caught Willow's apprehensive eyes hiding behind another cache of wooden crates. Willow nodded, her face hardening. She took out a worn book, a smoking bottle, some herbs, and began chanting quietly. A few minutes and incomprehensible Latin intonations later, and Buffy could almost feel a tendril of power rush past her as Willow completed the spell.

All of the vampire employees whirled around as a wooden crate near them suddenly caught fire. A spark leapt off the crate, landed on one of the vampires' sleeves, and he flailed frantically for several moments before dissolving.

Xander, Wesley, and Giles stood up as the vampires were occupied with combusting, aimed their crossbows and let loose with a volley of darts. One vampire crumbled as he was struck in the heart, and another wailed in pain as an arrow buried itself in his leg.

"That's our cue," Buffy said, and she and Faith shot out from behind the crate and sprinted towards the vampires.

"Slayers! Focus on the Slayers!" Skinner yelled, his face contorted in an angry sneer. He was clutching onto the box as he moved behind the small army advancing upon Buffy and Faith.

The two Slayers exchanged adrenaline-fueled glances before launching themselves into the group. They moved seamlessly, staying only feet apart while they literally tore through the first line. Faith was sweeping the sword in wide arcs, slicing appendages like carrots. Buffy was a whirling mass of fists, feet, and stakes, jabbing and punching her way through two vampires in the first thirty seconds.

Buffy found herself taking on three at a time, twisting her body in ways that made her muscles sing, that made her stomach soar. Punches landed on her body and she barely felt them, her entire being focused on reaching Skinner, who was watching the events unfolding with a contemptuous sneer.

She pulled a crossbow dart from one of the vampires' legs and plunged it into his chest, instantly turning in a fluid movement to smash her foot into another's face. Buffy could vaguely see Faith wielding the sword like a machete, her sheer ferocity making up for a distinct lack of technique.

Buffy blocked a punch from one and was kicked in the stomach by another, smashing into a wooden crate and scrambling up immediately to block a right hook. She saw Faith lose her sword and get a foot to the face, stumbling.

"Come on, you pansy motherfuckers!" Faith yelled furiously. She came back with bare knuckles and a maniacal, feral grin, picking up a wooden shard from one of the crates and staking two before they had time to wonder if running away was a viable option.

Buffy, battling another two, saw Skinner drop the box and enter the fray with a guttural snarl. She counted quickly and found they had five vampires left, including Skinner. Make that four, she thought happily, as a dart from Giles' crossbow whizzed into another un-beating heart.

She kicked one of the vampires in the chest, sending him careening into a wall and turned around to receive a fist to her mouth. Her head snapped back and Skinner, his scar livid on his face, followed up with another punch. Buffy ducked it, sweeping his legs out, and he fell to the ground with a pained grunt. Another vampire behind her took advantage of the distraction and wrapped an arm around her neck in a chokehold.

Buffy could smell his rancid breath behind her as she struggled. She saw Skinner getting up with a leer, snapped a brutal elbow to the gut of the vampire behind her, and was released with a groan. Buffy twisted her body in a roundhouse kick, saw the vampire stumble and plunged a stake into his chest.

She could hear Faith grunting and yelling obscenities, could see her throwing bone-splintering punches in the corner of her vision, but her focus was on the vampire in front of her. Skinner was leering unpleasantly at her, looking positively relaxed.

"You know why they call me Skinner, sweet thing?" he said, cocking his head and approaching her lazily.

"Because your human name was Ashley Louise and that was just a tad too Southern Belle for the undead?" Buffy asked sweetly.

Skinner laughed nastily and produced a malicious-looking curved knife. "I like you, Slayer. I'm gonna like you even more when you're in little pieces." He caressed the knife almost lovingly. "You see, my specialty is dragging things out. You'll be begging for death after I'm done with you."

"Hey, you talk much more and I'll be begging sooner than that," Buffy said tightly. Her stake felt reassuring and deadly in her hand.

He leapt at her with a snarl, slicing viciously. She twisted and dodged, kicked out at him, and gasped as the knife slashed through her forearm.

Skinner inhaled deeply through his nose. "Smell that Slayer blood. Gets me all riled up." He grinned at her, lunging again. He was fast with the knife, faster than her. She acknowledged that fact with a calculating detachment, looking for weaknesses. Buffy knew she would have to finish this quickly, couldn't dodge him forever.

He jabbed at her stomach, she sidestepped him and brought her elbow down hard on his wrist, making him grunt with pain and drop the knife. Buffy slammed into him with her shoulder, and Skinner careened backwards towards the edge of the docks. He looked uncertainly behind him, seeing the water, and Buffy grinned.

"Bad luck, Ashley," she said, and kicked him in the chest. Skinner hit the water with a satisfying smack, and Buffy peered down and saw him sputtering and flailing.

"Buffy!" Faith called urgently, and she whirled around, taking in the scene.

Buffy saw Faith struggling with one vampire, and another, his face smooth and human, circling around to grab the box Skinner had dropped. She saw Faith stake the vampire she was currently fighting and sprint towards the box with a frustrated growl. Buffy ran too.

Faith and the vamp reached the box at the same time, and Buffy saw her smash a fist brutally into his face. He dropped to the ground, limp. Faith crouched down and took her stake out, preparing to bury it in his chest, and Buffy suddenly knew that something was terribly wrong.

"Faith, don't!" she shouted frantically, pumping her arms and legs frenetically. Please, no, she thought.

It felt like the moment lasted forever and yet just a split second. She could hear her own shallow breathing, could hear her feet pounding on the wooden docks, could see Faith's face screwed up in anger and satisfaction. Time stopped, Buffy's brain working, and then it sped up as Faith's hand came down in a savage motion.

The stake went in with a horrible, plunging sound. Blood gushed up and she saw Faith looking confused as the body stayed solid. Buffy ran over, feeling as if her muscles had stopped working, crouched next to them and put her hands over the wound. The man, very human, looked down at the wood protruding from his chest, and raised urgent, lost eyes to the Slayers. He opened his mouth, a stream of blood trickled down his chin, and his eyes went terrifyingly vacant.

"What ... I — no — I didn't ..." Faith said weakly, and she scrambled back suddenly, pushing herself off the ground.

Buffy stared at the body in frozen shock. She looked at her hands and they were coated. His eyes were open, glazed and unseeing, his chest still pouring blood. She could vaguely feel Faith standing behind her. She felt numb, unbelieving, his body surreal and dreamlike. It had happened so fast. One instant, and everything changed. Buffy twisted her head around and saw Faith's eyes fixed on the body, horrified and panicked.

Faith's eyes flicked back to Buffy's, her face colorless and terrified. Buffy inhaled, about to open her mouth, and Faith spun around and ran.

"Faith!" she tried to yell, but it came out strangled and hoarse.

Buffy heard the sound of pounding feet disappear, saw Faith swallowed up in the night. No, no, no, no, she thought wildly. Her mind was refusing to accept what had just happened. Everything seemed too surreal, too bright and too vague at the same time.

"Buffy?" a voice asked worriedly.

She snapped her head around and saw Giles approaching. His stopped, his face transforming as he saw what she was kneeling beside.

"Good Lord," he said faintly. "What happened?'

Buffy opened her mouth and suddenly felt a violent wrenching in her stomach. She twisted around, clutched herself and vomited. She felt her entire body shuddering, felt as if she were turning inside out. She heard soft, urgent footsteps, and felt Giles' warm hand on her back, rubbing softly. She turned to him when it stopped, pale and sweating.

"Faith — she — there was an accident," Buffy said desperately, shaking. "It was an accident, Giles. Everything — it was all so fast and she just reacted. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't." She stood up with a panicked, urgent expression on her face, looking towards the direction where Faith had disappeared. Giles stood up with her. "I have to find her. I have to tell — it wasn't her fault."

Giles put a firm, steadying hand on Buffy's shoulder, turning her around to face him.

"Buffy. It's going to be okay," he said gently, decisively. "We can find her tomorrow. You have to sit down now."

"No — no. I can't. Giles, she — we killed him. He's dead." She looked at him, her face nakedly despondent and plaintive. He pulled her to him and held her as she shuddered and heaved dry sobs.

"Oh, God," Willow whispered, stepping softly forward with her hand over her mouth. Xander stared down at the body in shock, Wesley following, his face hard and grave.

"We should go back," Giles said, Buffy still trembling in his arms. "She's going into shock," he said very quietly to the others, and Willow looked at them, panicked. "She'll be okay, but she needs to sit down, rest a while."

Giles met Xander's stunned eyes and motioned at the box. He shook his head violently and picked it up, straining a little at its weight. They moved back towards the school.

~ — ~ — ~

"We have to alert the Watcher's Council," Wesley said after Buffy was sitting down at the library table, a blanket wrapped tightly around her.

Buffy was staring blankly at the table, at the glaringly conspicuous box in the center. She could barely think, just process images of blood, and his blank eyes, and Faith's petrified face. He's dead, kept running through her head. She could feel that thick substance still coating her hands, even though Giles had washed it off.

Giles, sitting across from Buffy, looked at Wesley fixedly, almost searchingly, and then nodded.

"What about the police?" Willow asked quietly. She was sitting in the chair next to Buffy, shooting furtive, concerned glances at her unmoving figure.

"The Council has dealt with matters like this in the past. They manage the police," Wesley said, his brow furrowed.

"This has happened before, Willow. People being caught in the crossfire," Giles contributed softly. He glanced at Buffy. "The Council will determine whether there was malicious intent and then act accordingly. It was an accident, though, and they'll recognize that."

Wesley was staring at him intently, his eyes narrowed. "If it was purely an accident."

Buffy's head suddenly snapped up, eyes blazing in her pale face. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice quiet steel.

All eyes turned to her, surprised at her sudden awareness. She was staring at Wesley.

"The Council will make the final decision, Buffy. They will ascertain whether Faith acted responsibly, or if she was reckless and endangered that man," Wesley said sternly.

Buffy didn't say anything for several moments, just gazing at Wesley with a simmering anger. "You ever been in a fight, Wes?" she asked abruptly.

"Well — no, not exact — I hardly see how that's relevant," he responded, taken aback.

"You know why it's relevant? Because you can't imagine how confusing, how chaotic a battle is." Buffy stood up, shrugged off her blanket. "It's about reaction and instinct, and it doesn't leave a lot of time for decision-making or second glances." She stepped forward aggressively, glaring at him, her jaw clenched, her mouth a small, tight line. "Don't you dare go making judgments about something you can't even begin to understand."

"It's not my judgment that matters, Buffy," he said somberly. "It is the Council's verdict."

Buffy glared at Wesley for several seconds, and then walked past him towards the weapons cabinet, brushing against his shoulder in a not-quite gentle way.

"Buffy," Giles said, standing up.

"I need to find her," Buffy said angrily, grabbing a crossbow and a knife from the cabinet. "If you want to sit here on your asses and talk about how she acted recklessly, go ahead. She's hurting and terrified, and I care enough to go after her."

Willow and Xander stood up, as well. Giles stood in front of her as she strode towards the door purposefully. She narrowed her eyes at him warningly.

He stood, hands out unthreateningly. "Buffy, please, wait for morning. You've been through a terrible ordeal tonight, and you need rest. Not to mention that fact that if Faith doesn't want to be found, she won't be. And when the sun comes up, we can all help you search."

Willow and Xander nodded vehemently. "Listen to him, Buff. We'll help you look in the morning," Xander said firmly. Buffy seemed to pause, her eyes flicking around the room.

"Uh, there's a slight problem," Willow said tentatively, pointing at the box. "The Mayor's going to be looking for that, and we have no idea what it is, or how dangerous it is."

"Would you be willing to stay and research, Willow?" Giles asked, and Willow nodded.

"Of course. Anything to help."

"I'm staying too," Xander said resolutely, and Giles nodded gratefully at him.

"I can put it, temporarily, in a safe location. And hopefully we can find a description of it in one of the books. Until then," he grasped Buffy's shoulder, looked at her compassionately, "you need to go home and sleep."

Buffy stared into gentle eyes, dropped her weapons with a loud clatter, and abruptly felt exhausted. She slumped. Everything felt so wrong, so twisted right now. The hot rush of anger receded and she was left grasping for something else to steady her shaking hands. God, she needed to see Faith, to hold her, to reassure, comfort both of them. Was it just last night that they had stayed in her motel? Was it just this morning that she woke up to warm emptiness, pervasive smells of sex and sweat and Faith?

Her knees buckled, and Giles was there, holding her up.

"I'll drive you home," he said softly, and looked at the others. "Try Silas Durdan's Primer first. Chapter 12 discusses components for dark rituals."

They began walking out, Giles supporting Buffy, hands firmly under her arms. Wesley walked in front of them, and they gazed at him suspiciously.

"Buffy, I am truly sorry," he said softly. "The Council is fair in these matters, and I — I'm sure she'll be alright."

Buffy nodded at him, but her eyes were hard. They continued out the doors.

Chapter 21: Possession

Author's Notes:

Buffy lay in her bed at home, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, sheets wrapped around her in a coiled mess. She didn't want to close her eyes, because images were imprinted on her eyelids no matter how tightly she screwed them shut. The cold, blank vacancy of his eyes, how she could still see tinges of emotion under that vacuum, of uncertainty and pain and, she became sure of this lying in her bed, accusation.

He's dead, she thought. We killed him. Every time this thought emerged, another one followed closely behind it, a thought that made her shake her head violently, her stomach wrench ferociously. She killed him, Buffy thought, and wanted to curl up in a fetal ball. Oh, God. Faith.

Buffy drifted off in the late morning, sheer exhaustion overcoming the rampage of thoughts and images through her head. She drifted off into uneasy, prickling sleep, and found herself in a classroom at school.

She was sitting in a seat in the center, and all eyes were turned to her. Teachers, students, vampires who had inexplicably appeared, all gazing at her unblinkingly. Her eyes flicked around the room, finding Willow, Xander, and Wesley among them, their faces expressionless. She looked towards the door and saw, with a surge of anxious happiness, Faith leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

Buffy rose, but the eyes didn't follow her. The class continued to stare at the empty chair. She walked over to Faith, found her eyes veiled, her face stoic.

"They don't understand — it's not me," Buffy said, looking at the chair in the center.

"Yeah, I get that," Faith said, her voice flat and emotionless. "It's me. Fifteen minutes of fame, right?"

Buffy felt a shiver run down her spine. She reached out to touch Faith, to reassure herself, and stopped as she realized she was holding a stake, blood dripping off of it in a sickening rhythm.

"That's mine, B," Faith said, and grasped it. Buffy felt it slide out of her hands, felt a lingering wetness on her hands when it left. "Not yours to hold."

She abruptly felt that something was horrendously wrong. The atmosphere changed, became tighter, more difficult to breathe.

"No," she whispered.

"Time to split, B. Tell the gang I didn't mean it," Faith said, and raised her hand to gently trace a line on Buffy's cheek. Her eyes were bright and vivid, wavering. She turned around and walked off, and Buffy felt a desperate surge inside her.

"Faith!" she called, but Faith kept walking.

She tried to run after her, to grab her and not let go, and found her feet wouldn't move. Buffy looked down and saw they were stuck in the floor, sinking into it. She looked up frantically and saw Faith disappearing, fading out.

"No!" Buffy yelled, sitting bolt upright in her bed.

She looked around wildly, her heart pounding furiously, sweat causing her shirt and sheets to cling to her. She sat and felt a fierce, searing panic coursing through her. That was Faith in her dream. The real Faith. She said she was leaving. Buffy threw back the sheets and saw a faint light coming through her window. It was early morning.

She dressed quickly, hands trembling, and crept down the stairs. Opened the door quietly and slipped out into the still air. The sun was just rising over the trees, suffusing the air and branches with a soft glow. It was so tranquil, so quietly serene, that Buffy felt like the chaotic mess where her intestines used to be wasn't even real, as if she was still dreaming.

She half-ran to Faith's motel, still feeling a muted panic. Please don't let her be gone, she thought. Buffy reached the door, bit her lip, and tried the doorknob. It opened easily. She saw a worn, leather bag on the bed, open and stuffed haphazardly with clothes. Faith, wearing combat boots, tight jeans, and a white wife beater, was rifling through a drawer in her dresser, but snapped her head up when Buffy entered. Their eyes met for a split second before Faith flinched slightly and turned her head back to the drawer.

"Reason there's a door there, B," Faith said shortly. She was clean, the smell of stale alcohol gone and the scratches healed, but her face was pale and drawn, deep bags under her eyes that the make-up didn't entirely hide.

"Where are you going?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her voice steady, and stepped towards the bed.

"Somewhere not here," Faith responded flatly, but there was an almost unnoticeable tremor in her voice. She grabbed a pile of clothes from the dresser and dumped it into the bag.

"Were you planning on telling me, or were you just going to disappear again?" Buffy moved closer, two feet way from Faith. She was stuffing things into the bag, squashing them down and not looking at Buffy.

"Better this way," Faith said quietly.

"Better for who?" Buffy asked, and couldn't keep the tremble or anger from her voice as it poured out loudly into the room. "For you, so you don't have to look me in the face? Or maybe you think it's for me. 'Cause what you're doing is so self-sacrificing, running away like a coward." She almost spat the last word.

Faith snapped her head up to glare at Buffy, her eyes blazing. "Don't call me that."

"What should I call you then? Spineless, maybe? Does this make you a hero, splitting when things get too rough?" She moved closer, pushing into Faith's space, getting right up in her face.

"Hero?" Faith shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I never wanted to be a goddam hero, B. That's your job. I don't give a shit about puppies and old ladies." She looked at Buffy directly, steadily. "I don't belong here. This is your world, and I ain't a part of it."

"Yes, you are," Buffy said heatedly. "You became a part of it. I need you here."

"No, you want me here," Faith responded sharply. "There's a diff between those two things, B. 'Cause what you're feeling, that's gonna fade and we'll just be two violence-prone chicks who can't get each other."

Buffy glared at her silently for several moments, wearing a small, angry sneer. "Does it really help?" she asked abruptly.

"Does what really help?" Faith asked, eyes narrowing.

"Lying to yourself. Making this world into something simple, something you can understand and deal with, something without complications," Buffy said rigidly, saying the last word with incensed scorn.

"You want uncomplicated?" Faith said furiously. Buffy saw deep pain and fear flare up suddenly in Faith's eyes, underneath her anger. "I killed someone last night," she said, her voice hoarse and broken.

"It was an accident, Faith," Buffy said fiercely, grabbing Faith's arm. "We all know that. The Council'll figure that out too."

"Doesn't matter," Faith said, shaking her head, the mask firmly back on. "Doesn't change the fact that I shoulda left a long fucking time ago." She pulled her arm roughly out of Buffy's grasp, zipped the bag shut with more force than necessary.

"Like you left me yesterday morning? In your bed?" Buffy asked, her voice quiet and hard.

Faith paused, swallowed, her fingers tightening around the bag.

"Except you didn't, Faith. You came back." Buffy said, almost plaintively. She reached out to touch Faith and then hesitated, pulled back. "You got scared, I know. You got scared of us. You freaked and left and probably did a bunch of self-destructive things, but you came back."

"Yeah, and look how great that turned out," Faith said roughly, bitterly. She jerked her head, lifted the bag. "Here's me not repeating that mistake."

Buffy watched her, feeling something urgent and panicked. "What about me?" she asked quietly, desperately. Faith's hands quavered a little.

"You'll do better without me." Faith heaved the bag over her shoulder, strode towards the exit.

Buffy intercepted her fluidly, moving between her and the door. She kept her stance straight, unthreatening, but her eyes were hard. Faith stared at her intently, cocking her head. "We gonna fight, B? That it?"

"I'm not letting you just walk out of here, Faith. You're not shutting me out like that. You wanna leave? Fine. Try it." She felt her muscles tightening automatically, her weight shifting slightly to change to a more offensive position.

Faith smirked mirthlessly. "You honestly think this is gonna stop me, B? You think I won't hit you?"

"Only one way to find out, F," Buffy said harshly, ironically echoing earlier, playful words, and punched her in the face.

Faith's head snapped back and she stumbled. She raised her head, eyes bright with anger, and dropped her bag on the floor. Buffy watched her silently.

Faith lunged forward suddenly, feinting to the left and kicking out with her right foot. Buffy felt a boot firmly connect with her ribs and flinched. She responded with a left hook, her fist colliding with Faith's cheek bone and feeling skin tear. Blocked another punch from Faith and kicked her in the stomach.

This wasn't like sparring. There was no holding back, both of them fighting with a desperate, angry urgency. Fists landed and muscles shuddered and ribs cracked. Faith's lip and cheek were bleeding, Buffy clutching her side and breathing shallowly as they danced around, with each other. Faith's eyes glittered with rage and adrenaline, her mouth curled in a sneer. There was no verbal exchanges, no sarcastic quips. Words were superfluous. This was their language, the purest, most honest language between them. Silent except for grunts and crunches and plaster shuddering.

Buffy spun with a roundhouse kick, feeling her foot hit a jawbone, and Faith smashed into the wall face-first. She moved quickly, twisting one of Faith's arms savagely behind her back and moving in, pressing her against the wall. Faith struggled viciously, rotating and wrenching her shoulders. Buffy held on, gripping harder, and Faith snapped her neck back suddenly, head-butting Buffy and causing her to stumble.

She couldn't say how long they fought, couldn't count the injuries on both of them or say how much her muscles burned. Couldn't say how each punch she landed induced both fierce satisfaction and aching guilt. How both bodies held such a plethora of deep emotions that everything blended together. Rage, lust, love, guilt, pain, relief, sadness.

They fought until Buffy could barely feel her left arm, until each breath burned her ribs. Faith was gripping her shoulder, face contorted with pain and fury. They circled each other, acknowledged the damage caused, and Buffy abruptly moved. Right hook which Faith blocked, left hook which she didn't, slamming her back against the wall. Buffy moved in, forearm at her throat, pressing in close, and looked into eyes that held the same intensity she felt in hers. There was a moment of mutual hesitation, of mutual uncertainty, before Buffy acted.

She removed her arm from Faith's throat and abruptly grabbed the back of the other Slayer's head, yanking her forward and crashing their lips and bodies together. Her tongue thrust in roughly, her hand pulling Faith's hair as she devoured her. She could taste blood in Faith's mouth, could feel their tongues meet in a savage collision. Faith moaned unrestrainedly, her hands clutching Buffy's ass and pulling her closer. Buffy ground her hips forward and they both let out shuddering groans of pain and pleasure.

Their breathing was shallow gasps and moans, damaged limbs and injuries burning like the heat between their legs. Buffy had never felt such a need to possess, to dominate, had never felt such a violent urgency like what she was feeling now. Faith was hers, only hers, and she conveyed it. She had broken down those barriers that Faith erected with punches and kicks, and now she broke them down with teeth and fingernails. She tangled a hand in Faith's hair and yanked her head back fiercely, moving her mouth down to suck roughly on Faith's neck. Faith's entire body was shivering, her hips surging frantically, her back arched. She growled as Buffy bit down, hard, on her pulse point.

Buffy's hands traveled down, quickly and roughly unbuttoned Faith's jeans and jerked them down, raising Faith's legs and flinging them off of her. Moved her hand to cup Faith through her panties, pressed her palm hard against Faith's clit, and found the flimsy material soaked through. Faith cursed in a rumbling growl, her hips bucking, her hands still clutching Buffy's ass as she thrust her hips behind her hand.

Buffy wrenched Faith's underwear off, quite possibly causing it to flutter down in tattered pieces, and grabbed the other Slayers' legs, lifted her up, and hooked them around her own waist. Supporting Faith now with only her body pressing between her legs, she positioned her hand, slid through wet, swollen folds and shoved fingers deep inside of Faith. The other girl's entire body surged forwards, her uneven cry increasing as it found Buffy's hips.

Her fingers, her hand, her hips and body thrust forward and Faith wasn't just moaning, she was yelling, cursing, shouting incomprehensible words and Buffy's name. She grasped one of Faith's legs, fingernails leaving little half-moon marks around her thigh, and continued the rhythm. Her fingers sunk deeper inside, enveloped by calescent warmth, and Faith cried out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy.

Faith's hands found Buffy's hair, pulled her head forwards, and kissed her hungrily, moaning into her mouth. Buffy felt her walls throb around her fingers, felt how her legs shuddered, felt her hips heave with her thrusting, felt how close she was to the edge already. She increased the pace, moved faster inside of Faith and the other Slayer ripped her mouth away to groan loudly. Buffy moved her lips down, sucked on her earlobe.

"Come for me, Faith," Buffy whispered into Faith's ear, and it pushed her over that edge. Hard.

Faith went rigid, opened her mouth to make small, pathetic whimpers and gasps, grabbed the back of Buffy's neck for support and shook as her climax crashed on her. Buffy felt it around her hand, the clenching, the searing warmth, and curled her fingers more, pressed her body closer and molded it to Faith's, as it rushed over her. Could almost feel it with her, could almost taste it when she scraped teeth gently on her sweat-slicked neck and Faith let out her breath in a guttural groan.

Buffy didn't move as Faith's shudders decreased, as her hands fell limply to Buffy's shoulders, as she sagged against her. She just held her, incongruously gently compared to what had just occurred. Her ribs were burning, jolts of pain every time she inhaled, but she could barely feel them with the sensation of Faith's naked thighs wrapped around her. Warm breath across her shoulder blades as Faith's chin nestled into the curve between her neck and shoulders, as the other Slayer's chest stopped heaving.

Buffy felt content, satiated, a soft glow inside her. Even with numerous scrapes, throbbing injuries, horrendous memories from the past two days, holding Faith as she came down felt perfectly, exactly how it was supposed to be. She would stay, because there wasn't an alternative. They fit together, complemented, supported, infuriated, satisfied each other, and it felt so fucking right.

Buffy drew back, clasped Faith's thighs and gently unwrapped them from her waist. Faith's feet, still somehow wearing her combat boots, hit the ground with a soft thud. Her head was down, refusing to look at Buffy. She cupped Faith's face in her hands, brought her head up and saw tears and mascara running silently down her cheeks. God, she looked so small, so fragile. Faith was trying to furiously repress her sobs, keeping them in her throat even as the tears poured out, and it made her look agonizingly young.

"Faith," Buffy said softly. "Let go. Stop holding on."

She clasped Faith to her, wrapped her up, felt her stiffen and tense, half-heartedly push Buffy away. Buffy held on tighter, not letting her go, and then, finally, felt her break down utterly. Faith's muscles went slack as a cry tore itself out of her throat. They sunk to the ground together, Faith clutching onto her shoulders as tightly as she had been just minutes ago. Her body was shaking with sobs, her cries muffled in Buffy's shoulder. Buffy held onto her, stroking her, murmuring into her hair, and felt as if her heart was shattering.

"I didn't mean to — I'm sorry. God, Buffy, I'm so sorry," Faith gasped, gripping Buffy's back as if she were drowning. "I didn't realize — I didn't see him." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I see him now. Every time I close my eyes."

"I know," Buffy said quietly, unevenly. "I do too."

There were several moments of near silence, Faith inhaling shakily as her sobs died down. They stayed enfolded in each other on the ground until Buffy drew back, grasping Faith by the shoulders and peering into her tear-stained face. She traced her thumb over one of the tracks, wiping off the running make-up. Still so beautiful, she thought in amazement. More even, now that there was a glimpse into what lay behind that faГade. To see those deep, brown eyes waver with an emotion that wasn't arrogance or rage. Buffy ran her thumb gently over Faith's sensual, full mouth, blood on her bottom lip, and it parted to breathe in sharply.

"How do you do this to me?" Faith asked, her voice soft and disbelieving. "I don't know who I am when I'm with you."

"I do," Buffy said quietly, and cupped Faith's streaked, anxious face in her hands, gazing at her closely. "You're a Slayer. You're my Slayer." Her eyes ran over Faith's face, lighting on her bruises, her tear tracks. "You see things that no one else does and you say them out loud. You're fierce and sexy and wild and horrendously cocky." She trailed a fingertip over her cheekbone. "You try so hard to cover up things you don't want other people to see, and you don't even realize how beautiful they make you." Faith bit her lip, averted her eyes.

"I need you to be here, with me. I need you to stay and not shut me out," Buffy said fervently, her voice breaking. "This is us, Faith. This is you and me, right now. We're going to deal, because I'm not letting you just walk away."

Faith raised her eyes to look back at her. There was still so much uncertainty, so much pain and confused anger in them. Her bottom lip, trembling, suddenly stopped as her jaw clenched. Buffy could see her trying to repress the emotions spilling out, to contain and shove them back down, and failing as they etched themselves on her face.

"Why are you doing this, B? Why're you trying so hard?" Faith asked, screwing her eyes shut. "You care that much about a fuck-up like me?"

"Yes, I do, and you're not a -"

"A murderer?" Faith spat hoarsely.

Buffy grabbed her head, roughly turned it to face her. "Don't ever say that." Faith could barely look her in the eyes. "I was right there, Faith. I saw it, I lived it. I know how confusing it was, how chaotic. It wasn't your fault."

"You think that matters?" Faith said vehemently, wrenching Buffy's hands away and cringing a little at the pain in her shoulder. "There's still a body, B. And it's 'cause of me. Sayin' it was an accident isn't gonna make that guy any less deader."

"No, it's not. We're never going to forget that, and you know what? We never should," Buffy said tightly. "But we -"

"Stop saying 'we'!" Faith shouted suddenly, her eyes blazing. "It was me, Buffy, not you!"

"But we," Buffy continued decisively, ignoring her outburst, "shouldn't let it destroy us, or stop us from doing what we need to do."

Faith was staring intently at the floor, still looking quietly livid. Buffy inhaled deeply and pushed herself off the floor awkwardly, clutching her side and gasping softly with the pain. She straightened up and gazed down at the slumped figure below her.

"You're not alone in this, Faith. I'm here, and Willow, Giles, and Xander, they're here too. I'm not giving up on you. Not now, not ever," Buffy said, deep emotion making her voice waver. She stretched out her hand, offering it to the other Slayer.

Faith raised her head hesitantly, eyes flicking back and forth between Buffy's hand and face. There were several moments where they stayed in the same position, Faith collapsed on the ground in a small heap of tangled limbs, and Buffy, standing up, her hand outstretched, until one of them moved. Faith extended her own hand and Buffy grasped it, feeling a surge of hope and tentative happiness that made her heart pound and her stomach soar.

She pulled Faith up, ignoring the sharp pang in her side and arm, and they stood inches apart. Buffy gazed at her steadily while Faith's eyes shifted around the room, refusing to land on an object. She quietly marveled at the girl in front of her. Faith wouldn't let any bullshit slide in other situations, situations where she knew the lines and steps, knew what to say to make hearts pound and the atmosphere tighten. And yet, here she was, in all of her glorious insecurities and anxieties, barely capable of accepting another person's help and compassion, and Buffy had never felt such an aching tenderness towards her.

She knew what Faith understood. Fists and kicking and fucking were the language that Faith spoke. Dropping her in a place where that communication only went so far, and she was suddenly awkward and tentative, almost inchoate.

Buffy put her hand gently on Faith's cheek, meeting her eyes as they reluctantly moved to hers. She leaned in and kissed her softly, slowly, just a brief meeting of lips. Faith sighed into her mouth and Buffy felt her muscles soften, loosen, something flow into the space between them and warm it. Buffy pulled back and wanted to say something to her, wanted to say, "I love you," and, "you feel like coming home," but instead glanced down and failed to repress a small smile.

Faith's brow furrowed, but she followed her gaze and her face softened.

"I'm pretty sure I should be given a medal for having that entire conversation and not checking out your very obvious nudity once," Buffy said quietly.

Faith didn't answer, wasn't ready to come back to the reality of the situation. Buffy grasped her hand, led her over to the bed, pulled back the covers, and lay both of them down softly. She pressed herself up against Faith's back, molding to her body, wrapping her arms around her stomach and tried to make something warm and safe and impenetrable around them. Faith leaned back into her and exhaled deeply, shakily.

If Buffy hadn't been feeling the periodical clench and flutter of Faith's stomach muscles, she wouldn't have even known the other Slayer was crying silently.

Chapter 22: Connecting Lines

Author's Notes: First, thanks so much for all the positive reviews. I'm glad you guys enjoyed that chapter. Second, sorry for the slightly belated update. I'm in the middle of a road trip and internet is rather scarce. I'm posting quickly while I still have it. The update after this should come in the next few days, though. Hopefully.

She woke up to feel herself curled around Faith, body pressed to her back, the other Slayer's arms holding onto hers tightly. Everything was warm and pliant and soft, and Buffy sank into her and Faith like a hot bath. Sunlight was streaming into the room, making patterns on the covers and playing on Faith's bare arms. Her tattoo looked multi-colored, parts of it faded in the light.

Buffy didn't know what time it was, but it looked as if morning had passed. She felt the ineluctable tug of Slayer responsibilities, remembered the Mayor's box. God, how she wanted to just stay here, to forget the fact that someone was trying to destroy the town (again), to forget the blood on her hands and the body on the docks. She wanted to slip into their own enclosed bubble and never come out. She kissed Faith's shoulder softly, inhaled their scents deeply, and pressed in closer to her.

She felt Faith's breathing changing, quicken as she woke. She felt one of Faith's hands move to Buffy's hips, tugging them closer, the other grasping Buffy's forearm to her stomach. It was so unlike Faith to openly, unreservedly accept the comfort Buffy offered, to want to be close to her in a non-sexual way that Buffy's chest tightened with a painful tenderness. It was easy to forget what Faith truly was, to buy into that carefully cultivated image and forget how young, how vulnerable she was. Wrapped around her, Faith felt small, fragile, and Buffy experienced a powerful rush of protectiveness.

"What time is it?" Faith asked in a quiet, hoarse voice. Buffy couldn't see her face.

"Afternoon, I think," she answered.

Buffy felt the other Slayer tense in her arms. "Gotta face the firing squad eventually, right?" Faith asked softly. Her voice held a resigned sadness, a tight bitterness.

"We don't have to go right now. We could, you know, stay here for a little while," Buffy said, and tried not to sound plaintive.

Faith sighed deeply. "No, we can't. 'Cause if I stay here with you for another five minutes, I'm saying 'fuck it all' and never getting up again."

Faith gently extricated herself from Buffy's grasp and swung her feet down to the floor. Buffy felt the removal of contact sharply, and actively stopped herself from reaching out again, pulling her back in. Faith sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, her back rising and falling with deep breaths, and then stood up and groaned.

"Jesus Christ, B," she gasped, rubbing her shoulder and moving her jaw around. "You hit like a Mack truck."

Buffy sat up, cringing as well, and saw the mass of bruises on Faith's body, ugly splatters of black and blue on her legs, arms, and shoulders. Faith turned around to give her a dirty look and revealed the additional bruises on her face, the hickies on her neck.

"Oh," Buffy said quietly, guiltily. "Uh — that wasn't entirely my fault."

"Yeah, well, I also got my brains fucked out against a wall, so not really complaining." Buffy blushed. "'Sides, you look like a quilt knit by sadistic old ladies," Faith said, smirking a little.

Buffy's expression became horrified as she scrambled out the bed inelegantly and ran into the bathroom.

"Oh, God," she wailed as she saw the collection of purple covering her face. "That's — that's perfect. And with my hair, just completes the 'I got beat up and died in a dumpster' image."

Buffy walked out of the bathroom, looking petulant, and stopped, feeling a rush of fear, as she saw Faith rifling through the worn leather bag on the floor.

Faith was frowning as she rummaged through the bag, but her face smoothed as she looked up and saw Buffy's anxiety. "Don't worry, B. Not going anywhere," she said firmly, and dumped a pile of clothes out on the floor. "Just trying to find some underwear that isn't in little pieces."

"Oh," Buffy said again, quietly. The flood of worry faded a little, replaced by awkward guilt as she saw the underwear in question littering the floor in several different places.

Faith pulled on (intact) panties and jeans, and then picked up her belt from the floor and began buckling it. Buffy watched her silently, a multitude of thoughts and emotions whirling through her.

"Are you staying?" Buffy asked abruptly, quietly. She wanted to touch her again, to make sure she was still here.

Faith raised her head sharply. There were several moments of silence, the two Slayers simply gazing at each other. Something roiling and chaotic was progressing in Buffy's stomach.

"Yeah, B, I'm staying," Faith said shortly, finally. Her eyes looked incongruously soft in the tightness of her face.

Buffy smiled and walked over to help Faith put her clothes back in her dresser.

~ — ~ — ~

Angel was sitting on the worn, red couch in the mansion, engrossed in a book, when Faith walked in. Her pace was quick, controlled, nothing like the easy, arrogant saunter she usually used. He glanced up, and his expression of expectant hope transformed into mild shock.

"Faith?" he asked uncertainly.

"Angel," she said shortly. She stood in front of him, her arms crossed, her body tight and anxious. Her eyes flicked randomly around the room, sliding across Angel's face and lighting on the jagged marks on the walls.

He stood up slowly, unthreateningly, looking at her closely, and put the book down.

"What — what happened?" Angel asked, gesturing at her bruised face. It had been a day or so, and the bruises had taken on that sickly, yellow, in-the-process-of-healing color.

"Uh, B and me, we kinda had a disagreement," Faith responded uncomfortably.

"Over who could be beaten unconscious first?" Angel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Somethin' like that," she replied shortly.

"Is she here with you?" Angel asked, brow furrowed, and she jerked her head. "Then, uh, is there something I can help you with?"

Faith didn't answer him for several moments, shifting her weight awkwardly. "I'm not really sure why I'm here," she said rigidly. "I just — I don't really have anyone else to talk to about this shit."

"We — we're not — this isn't going to be some awkward relationship question about Buffy, right?" Angel asked, slight panic coloring his voice.

"No. I mean, she's involved, but this ain't about her," Faith responded. She began pacing quietly. "I don't know how — did you hear what happened?"

Angel shook his head, confused.

"There was ... an accident. During our fight. I — uh, I killed someone. A guy," she said, her voice uneven.

Angel stared at her closely for several moments, his face smoothing in comprehension. He put his hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed. "And I'm the only murderer you know."

Faith met his eyes directly for the first time. "Yeah," she nodded. "Although, I was gonna use a nicer term, something like 'life-taker, heart-breaker.'"

Neither of them smiled. "What did you want to know?" he asked, moving slightly closer.

Faith let out a sardonic half-snort, half-laugh. "Gosh, I don't know. When do I stop seeing him every time I try to sleep? How do I look Buffy in the face? Why do my hands shake when I'm alone?" Her voice was loud, bitter, and then nakedly desperate.

He shook his head. "Faith, I — I can't answer those things."

"Why the hell not?" she asked quickly, her body language shifting to something more aggressive.

"It's not my -" he began, but Faith cut him off.

"What, your place? This conversation make you uncomfortable, Angel? Do you not wanna talk about all the people you've killed?" Her voice was harsh, scornful.

Angel looked at her steadily, his expression unchanging in the face of her vitriol. Faith closed her eyes, shook her head violently. "I'm sorry. I — I didn't mean that. Everything's ... fucked up right now."

He moved another step closer. "Faith, I can't answer those things because I don't know," Angel said, his voice deep and firm. "You're not like me. I killed without remorse for hundreds of years. Did things to men, women, children that you can't imagine." Faith's body was taut, humming at his words. "I will never stop repaying for my crimes. I will never not see those faces. But, you," he said softly, and moved so that he was only feet away from her. "You didn't murder, Faith. You made a mistake."

"A mistake?" she asked incredulously, snapping her head up to reveal blazing eyes. "A mistake is calling out some random chick's name during sex. It's — it's picking up Pepsi instead of Coke at the grocery store. It ain't supposed to have a body count," Faith said vehemently, her voice breaking. She sneered at him. "How do you even know it was a mistake, huh, dead-boy?"

"Because of how it's tearing you up," Angel responded shortly.

Faith looked at him silently, her eyes holding something jaggedly painful and unstable.

"You make mistakes, Faith. You're fallible. You're only human."

"Am I?" she asked him, eyes narrowing. "Human beings punch through brick walls?"

Angel didn't answer and Faith continued rigidly. "You know for sure, Angel? You know for sure that B and me, we don't have some demon parts? 'Cause, unless all teenage girls got a hidden homicidal urge and can bench-press 650, there's gotta be something not entirely normal with us."

He stared at her intently, appraisingly. "Would that change anything?" he asked abruptly. "Would being inhuman make what you did better or worse?"

Faith blinked, shook her head. "Shit, I don't know." She ran her hands through her hair, shoulders slumping. Started pacing, muscles twitching frenetically, opening her mouth and closing it, trying to prepare for saying something.

"It's — just — when I killed him, there was a split second where I ... I felt ... good. Powerful." She let out a strangled half-laugh, half-sob, not even looking at him. "It makes me wanna throw up. And it makes me think that I'd at least have ... a reason. If there was something demon in me." Faith raised her head, stared at him desperately. "'Cause, otherwise, it's just me. Getting off on sick fucking things."

Angel looked at her with his brow furrowed, but his eyes were soft and understanding.

"I can't — I don't even wanna be around B. She's a goddam genuine hero, you know? She belongs on that fucking pedestal," Faith said, and another emotion entered her voice when she talked about Buffy, a tenderness. "And sometimes I don't think I deserve to even be talking to her, and other times, I just wanna drag her down, to my level."

Pacing continued. Angel was still watching her.

"Part of me hates how perfect she is, how controlled and noble and perfect. 'Cause I'm never living up to that, and it kills me every day that I see her. And part of me wants to lock her up in some protective cage," she clenched her hands, "you know, and make sure she never changes. That she's always that golden girl. 'Cause that's how I love her," Faith said the last part so quietly that Angel wouldn't have been able to pick up on it with human hearing.

Faith stopped talking and pacing. She stood with her back to Angel, her head down, her eyes screwed shut. He could see her take deep, steadying breaths, trying to repress the shaking in her voice, in her body.

"Such a fuck-up," Faith said brokenly, quietly.

Angel walked up to her, put his hand gently on her shoulder. She didn't turn around.

"I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this shit," Faith said, her voice holding a measure of bitter amusement. She surreptitiously wiped her palm across her cheeks.

"Maybe because I'm the only semi-human in Sunnydale who's dated Buffy and killed people. And those are pretty specific qualifications," Angel responded softly. He grasped her shoulders, gently turned her around. Faith's face was a mass of tight lines.

"I know how you're feeling, Faith. He died, and something inside you felt high with it. That you could just end an entire life, an existence, with your hands. It makes you feel like a god." His voice grew rougher, saturated with a deep understanding. His eyes weren't looking at her, lost in a distant, painful memory. "But the feeling isn't what's important, Faith," Angel said, snapping his eyes back to the Slayer. "What's important is how you deal with it. That you acknowledge it and not get sucked into it, not drown in it. Move on to what you're supposed to be doing."

"And what am I supposed to be doing, huh?" Faith asked aggressively, sneering slightly.

"Being a Slayer," Angel said shortly. "Being there for Buffy. She needs you, more than you know."

Faith's face loosened at his words. They stood there, feet apart, looking at each other, and found common ground, connecting lines between them.

"That man's face is going to be with you for a long time, Faith," Angel said softly, still grasping her shoulder. "And you know why? Because you're a good person."

"No, I'm not," Faith responded quietly, shaking her head. "I'm a fucking asshole. But, when I'm with her, I don't feel like it." She paused, seemed to reflect on what she had just said, and frowned. "Or, I feel like more of a fucking asshole. Depends on the day, you know?"

Angel gave her a sad smile. "Yeah, I know."

Faith raised her eyes sharply. "Guess you do," she said softly, looking at him intently. "Maybe we do have some shit in common after all, big guy."

He continued to smile gently at her.

Faith cocked her head, looked at him appraisingly. "You know, if I didn't have some snarky little blonde waiting for me, and if you weren't B's ex and I didn't hate you on principle, I might be trying to hit that." There was a small smirk on her face.

Angel looked taken aback for several moments, and then laughed lightly. "I'm going to ignore all those 'if's' in front of that and take it as a compliment."

Faith grinned. "Really should." Her grin faded as she looked uncertain again, eyes moving uncomfortably. "Uh, thanks, Angel. Not so good at sayin' that, but ... feel like I should."

He nodded. "I'll be here, Faith."

She smiled at him again, a genuine smile that made her face smooth and young, and then stepped back and walked out of his mansion. Angel sat back down on the couch, looking thoughtful. He shook his head, smiling a little, and picked up his book again.

Chapter 23: Pretty Words

Author's Notes:

Buffy glanced up hopefully as the library doors swung open again. She found herself grinning uncontrollably when Faith sauntered in, swaggering hips, cocky smirk and leather pants. The group raised their eyes briefly, Willow giving Faith a small smile, and then bent their heads back down to pore over pages. Buffy felt that small but expanding bubble of anxiety pop when the other Slayer sat down next to her, grabbed at some random book, pulled it towards her, and promptly began using it as a pillow.

Buffy moved her hand inconspicuously and placed it on the small of Faith's back, rubbing softly, and felt a satisfied vibration under her palm.

"Did you get what you needed?" Buffy asked quietly, trying not to disturb the rest of the group's research.

Faith turned her head and gave her a lopsided smile, even more lopsided considering it was sideways against the book.

"Yeah," Faith answered, just as quietly.

"You're gonna have to tell me about these secret missions one day," Buffy said, moving her hand slightly lower, fingertips brushing against Faith's ass.

"Move that hand around to the front and I'll tell you anything, princess," Faith whispered, smirking indecently.

Buffy rolled her eyes and removed her hand, ignoring the adorable pouting expression that developed on Faith's face. She bent her eyes over the book again, trying to take in the arcane and utterly useless references to how a troll kidney could be used in an Armenian conjuring spell. They hadn't found anything about the box currently residing in one of Giles' various hiding places, and the entire group was beginning to get frustrated and restless. Buffy kept reading, vaguely noticing that she wasn't absorbing a single word, and became aware that Faith was staring intently at her from her sideways vantage point, eyes holding an unidentifiable emotion.

She raised her eyes to meet the other Slayers' and gave her a quizzical look. Faith gave her a small, genuine, un-cocky smile that made Buffy turn into a puddle of sentimental mush, sat straight up and leaned over to brush her lips softly against Buffy's cheek. She drew back and Buffy looked at her, confused at that very uncharacteristic display of affection.

"I love you," Faith said quietly, smiling.

What?

Buffy stared at her and felt her mind actually slowing down, trying to process the words she had just heard. What? Was she hallucinating? Did Faith actually just say that? Her body seemed to understand what had just transpired much faster, as she felt something fierce and searing course through her.

"Thought you should know," Faith added softly, the ghost of a smile playing around her lips.

Buffy realized she had been staring blankly and silently at Faith for a solid ten seconds. The other Slayer was gazing at her with deep, bright, uncertain eyes, and all she could think of was how agonizingly beautiful she looked right now. Buffy tried to open her mouth to respond.

"The Watcher's Council has sent an envoy to assess the situation."

What? That's not what she wanted to say.

"They will be here in the next several days," Wesley continued, having stepped out of Giles' office.

Oh.

All heads turned to Wesley, including Faith's. Buffy was left in a stunned daze.

"To 'assess the situation'," Faith repeated skeptically. She, in contrast to Buffy's distinct lack of conscious thought, seemed to have fully recovered and was looking at Wesley with a raised eyebrow. "What pretty words, Wes," she said, throwing him a twisted grin.

"That is their job, Faith," Wesley said firmly.

"If by 'situation' you mean me. And if by 'assess' you mean cart off to delinquent superhero juvie," Faith responded sardonically.

"Faith," Giles said, standing up. "Even if the Council finds that you were reckless in the fight, they most likely won't be doing any, uh, carting."

"Maybe they should," Faith mumbled softly, looking away.

"Besides, the superhero juvenile detention center isn't supposed to be ready for another four years," Giles said, looking thoughtful.

Buffy was quietly having a minor stroke, the words "I love you" echoing in a bizarre marching procession in her head over and over again. She had always thought she would be the first one to say that, many months from now when she had enough courage and was significantly intoxicated, or about to die, or inebriated and about to die, but ... what? What had just happened? And she hadn't had a chance to say anything back! Why did her brain and vocal chords shut down at such inopportune times?

She suddenly snapped back to reality, registering what Faith had just muttered and frowned, putting her hand on Faith's shoulder and feeling tense muscles.

"Don't say things like that," Buffy said quietly. "Didn't we already go through this? You said you wanted to leave, I beat the crap out of you. Ring any very large, heavy bells?"

Faith smirked weakly. "Don't think I'm gonna be forgetting that little interaction any time soon."

Buffy leaned in closer, cupping Faith's face with her hand, lightly touching the bruises, and held her anxious gaze. "Faith. We're not letting anyone, including you and your misguided dumbass intentions, take you away. So stop."

"Yes, ma'am," Faith said seriously, eyes glittering.

"Good. Now that we've put a stop to that nonsense," Buffy shut the book in front of her with a loud, echoing bang, "we should put a stop to this nonsensical research cause we're not finding anything."

"Why aren't we just taking a mallet to that sucker?" Xander asked, slumping forward and looking exhausted. "Why are we researching something that's gonna be itty bitty pieces soon?"

"Because taking a mallet to it might cause our organs to liquefy, Xander," Giles said austerely. "We know nothing about this box. Not what's inside of it, not how to destroy it, not why the Mayor wants it." He turned to Wesley. "I don't suppose the Council had any helpful ideas?"

"Actually, they did," Wesley said, allowing himself a smug smile. Buffy decided that kicking him in the face would probably be too melodramatic. She settled for exchanging an exasperated look with Faith.

"They believe it might be the Box of Philostene, a 16th century artifact containing the -"

"Bones and mummified organs of Philostene's pet ferret," Giles interrupted, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose in a weary, frustrated gesture. "Yes, of course, that's terribly unhelpful. The Box of Philostene is a foot-long coffin buried somewhere in Mongolia."

Wesley opened his mouth. And shut it again. "Oh. Indeed," he said quietly.

"What about the markings around the box?" Willow asked, rubbing her eyes and leaning forward on her elbows. "Wouldn't they be able to tell us something?"

"They would, if they weren't in a dialect of some obscure, ancient language," Giles responded. He rose up from his chair, walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out a large, black tome, and began flipping through it. "No, I believe discovering information about this object is going to be accomplished the old-fashioned way."

"Stumbling on it?" Buffy asked morosely.

"Basically," Giles said distantly, still looking at the pages. Buffy groaned and dropped her head down on the book in front of her. Faith leaned back in the chair, put her feet up, and began thoroughly examining her nails.

"Giles?" Willow asked, straightening up and suddenly seeming more alert. "Why couldn't we just use a general spell? Like an all-purpose destruction spell?"

Giles looked up thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. "Well, yes, I suppose we could. I — I was hesitant to suggest magic, because of how unstable the field around the box may be." He strode over to the bookshelf again. "But ... something like ... ah, ostendo communis."

"The revealing incantation?" Willow asked eagerly.

"Yes," Giles responded distractedly. He blinked and suddenly looked up sharply at Willow. "How did you know what spell I was referring to?"

"Oh, uh, well ... I took a, uh, Latin class?" Willow suggested hopefully.

He shot her a stern, disapproving look and snorted. "I'm fairly certain Principal Snyder will adopt 14 small children before a class on Latin is offered here. I suppose I'll have to get a lock for those books, away from curious eyes." Willow looked slightly ashamed. Giles walked over to the table, set down a slim volume. "Right. We'll need several ingredients. Xander?"

"I live to run errands," Xander said resignedly, standing up.

"The magic shop on the corner of Main and 2nd." Giles pulled a pen out of his front pocket, began rapidly scribbling on a piece of paper. He ripped it off and handed it to Xander. "Quickly, please."

Xander saluted and walked briskly out the door.

"Yes, very good," Wesley said loudly, obviously trying to regain some control over the situation. "Well done, group."

Everyone shot him a dirty look and he shrunk slightly.

Giles strode over to his office, walked out with his jacket and keys. "Buffy, Willow, Faith, keep researching. Any information would still be helpful." He put on his jacket hastily and inelegantly. "I have to go retrieve the box."

"Right," Buffy called after his retreating form, giving him a thumbs-up. "We're on it. Don't even worry your British little head."

Giles walked out, leaving the three girls and Wesley looking at each other awkwardly. Faith dropped her boots from the table, stood up, and started stretching. Buffy tried not to stare at the expanding strip of toned stomach as her shirt rode up.

"Pepperoni cool with everyone?" Faith asked, and Buffy's eyes snapped up to her face again. Faith was smirking at her, obviously aware of where she had been focusing. Buffy flushed.

"Yeah," Willow said, returning her attention to the book. "Oh, and mushrooms," she called distantly.

"I suppose I should ..." Wesley began uncomfortably, coughing and gesturing at the pile of books on the table. He sat down and pulled one of the volumes towards him.

Faith snorted and walked into Giles' office where the phone was. Buffy, shooting a glance to make sure the researchers were properly engrossed, stood up and followed her.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Faith asked, smirking and glancing up as Buffy entered the office.

Buffy walked over to her, stopping just inches away. Faith's smirk faded as they gazed at each other. Buffy looked at the other Slayer intently, searching for some ineffable emotion, some sign of uncertainty or insincerity. There were several moments of pure, intense silence.

Buffy abruptly leaned in and kissed her fiercely, cupping her face in her hands. Mouths were pressed together so tightly it felt as if they had actually molded into each other, tongues sliding against each other in a slick, furious dance. Faith moaned and clutched at her hips, pulling their bodies together, arms wrapping around waists and chests.

Buffy pulled away finally, resting her forehead against Faith's, feeling both of their chests heaving. Her heart was pounding wildly.

"I love you too," she whispered. Faith let out a strangled whimper, her breath hitching. "Next time give a girl some warning before you throw stuff like that out. Or the chance to say it back."

Faith laughed weakly, inhaling in a shaky breath. She tilted her head and kissed Buffy again, more slowly and thoroughly this time.

"Oh," a voice squeaked. Buffy and Faith pulled apart, seeing Willow blushing and standing in the doorway. "I — I'm sorry. I just, uh, wanted to see if it was too late to add green peppers."

Buffy's head was spinning pleasantly as she tried to organize her thoughts, and possibly remember who she was.

"Nah, Red. Haven't called yet," Faith answered, in a voice made husky with previous activities. Buffy shivered a little at it.

"Okay. Good," Willow said, her voice slightly less squeaky. She was beaming at them with unrestrained happiness, clasping her hands together. "Gotta have those green peppers, you know? Vegetable goodness. Very important to the nutritional balance of the pizza."

Buffy smiled at her. "Very."

"I'll just, uh ..." Willow began, gesturing behind her. She spun around and walked out, still smiling widely.

"This is becoming a habit," Buffy said, looking at Faith again and frowning.

"What? Being caught with my tongue down your throat?"

"Yeah. Maybe we should walk around with an umbrella, and one of those portable 'Do Not Disturb' signs. To minimize exposure, you know," Buffy said thoughtfully.

"Or we could just quit mackin' in school libraries," Faith said, smirking.

"Screw that. Sounds wicked boring."

~ — ~ — ~

"Theia, grant me vision. Show me the truth of the object. Ostendo communis," Willow chanted, her eyes closed, her expression contorted in concentration.

She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of a large circle in the library, her face softly illuminated by the candles bordering it. The box was in front of her, an ominous, dark object that flickered with the lights surrounding it.

Everyone else was watching silently and anxiously. Faith and Buffy were the closest to the circle. Giles was pacing back and forth slowly, gripping a book with white knuckles and staring intently at the forms in the center.

Willow finished the incantation, her eyes still tightly shut. Buffy could see her eyelids trembling, beads of sweat gathering on her brow, arms shaking. She had a deep, twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach, an unpleasant prickling on the back of her neck. The magic in the room was almost tangible, rising like sinuous heat.

There were several moments of pure, tension-filled silence after Willow's ringing voice tapered off. Buffy flicked her eyes around the room anxiously, searching for some sign the spell worked.

There was suddenly a bright flash of light from the circle. Buffy heard a sound, or maybe a lack of sound, as if energy and light and noise were being sucked into the box. Everything felt as if it were rushing past her, being drawn into the center, rippling into a vacuum. And then a shuddering, resounding thump as it was released, as it exploded outwards. She felt the wave of energy hit her and almost staggered, her hair flying back.

Buffy could see, squinting and through a dim haze, a shaft of bright light hit Faith in the stomach as the energy from the box burst through. She saw the other Slayer be propelled off her feet, thrown into the wall next to Giles' office, and slide down limply, face-down on the floor. She didn't move.

"Faith!" she yelled frantically, except her voice was swallowed up in the rushing. She tried to move and couldn't, her feet feeling as if they were planted to the ground. Her body was shuddering under the spell, under her violent attempts to move.

"Stop it!" Buffy shouted as loud as she could. "Stop the spell!" Except it sounded as though her voice hadn't even left her mouth.

The several minutes where she could only helplessly look at Faith's limp, unmoving body, clench her fists and dig her fingernails into her palms felt like hours. The rippling waves of the spell receded and she stumbled forward, her knees buckling slightly as she sprinted over to Faith's side.

Buffy grasped Faith's shoulders and turned her over, seeing her eyes closed and her face terrifyingly slack.

"Giles!" she yelled brokenly. He was there suddenly, putting a hand to Faith's neck.

"She's alive," he said, and Buffy closed her eyes in weak relief. "Her pulse is faint."

Buffy glanced up and saw everyone else congregating around them. Willow looked pale and shaky, her eyes oddly bright in the colorlessness of her face, clutching Xander's arm as they made their way over to them.

"Bring her over to the table," Giles said firmly, grasping Faith's legs.

Buffy took hold of her shoulders and they carried her to the table, laying her down gently. Giles grabbed his jacket and rolled it up, placing it under Faith's limp head. Buffy stared at her, feeling a chaotic panic surging through her. She looked so small, so weak.

"Get me a towel and some water," Giles said loudly, glancing at the group. Willow sat down in a nearby chair, looking positively faint, while Xander ran out. Wesley looked lost.

"Hospital?" Buffy asked anxiously.

Giles shook his head. "It's mystical. Medicine can't help."

"What the hell does that mean?" Buffy said angrily. Giles looked at her sharply.

"It means that we have to wait," he said slowly, resolutely, and Buffy twitched. "We have to see if the spell had any negative effects on her."

"She's unconscious, Giles!" Buffy yelled, pointing at Faith. "That seems pretty friggin' negative to me!"

Giles grabbed her shoulder tightly. "Calm down, Buffy," he said firmly. "Panicking won't help matters. Faith needs to wake up on her own. And then we can determine if she has any serious injuries."

Buffy glared at him for a second before closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, slowly. "Okay. I'm okay. I'm calm," she said quietly, trying to reassure herself.

"What happened?" Willow asked in a small, fearful voice from her chair. Xander skidded into the room, his shoes screeching against the floor, holding a cup and rag.

Giles shook his head, frowning. "I — I'm not sure. It appears that Faith was hit with some sort of magical backlash." He looked at Willow. "Did — did the spell work? Did you see, or receive any information about the box?"

Willow shook her head. "No, nothing. I — I don't know what went wrong." She leaned forward slightly and Buffy saw her arms were still shaking. "What did I do? I must have read it wrong, or one of the ingredients ..."

"We can't be sure. It may be the box itself, somehow immune or impervious to magic," Giles said pensively, brow furrowed.

There was a small moaning sound from the table. Buffy snapped her eyes down to see Faith moving her head, her eyelids fluttering.

"Faith?" she asked anxiously, leaning over.

Faith's eyelids began to open blearily. Buffy saw her eyes trying to focus and put her hand on Faith's cheek, stroking softly. The other Slayer's vision narrowed at Buffy's touch, focusing on her concerned face.

"B?" she croaked, and Buffy almost started crying with relief.

"I'm right here, Faith," she said unevenly.

"What the hell happened?" Faith asked hoarsely, her eyes beginning to wander around the room.

"The spell. You — you got hit by some magic wave thingy," Buffy answered, her hand still tracing Faith's cheek.

"How do you feel?" Giles asked, peering into Faith's eyes.

"Like I drank a pint of JD's and got put through a demonic trash compactor," Faith responded weakly. She tried to sit up, clutching her head and cringing, but Giles put a steady hand on her shoulder.

"Stay lying down, Faith." He turned his head around. "Xander?"

Xander walked over with the water, looking uncertain. Giles took the cup and put it to Faith's mouth, tipping it slightly.

"Slowly," he said, and Faith swallowed, coughing. Buffy grasped the other Slayer's hand tightly and squeezed it. Faith turned to give her a small smile.

"Don't worry, B. Takes more than a lame magic wave thingy to flat-line this chick," Faith said, gripping back, and Buffy smiled weakly.

"Faith, you were hit with some part of the spell," Giles said. "Do you — do you feel any different? Anything feel off?"

Faith's eyes narrowed as she stared at him suspiciously. "What exactly am I supposed to be lookin' for, G? Demon possession? A tail?"

"Well, we're, uh, not entirely sure," Giles said, taking off his glasses and looking flustered and anxious. "That was a joke, right? You — you don't have either of those things?"

"No," Faith answered, frowning and quickly twisting her arm around to feel behind her. "But, I mean, that creepy little Exorcist girl didn't go all Charles Manson for a while, right?" she asked plaintively, looking at Buffy. "Can this shit pop up later?"

Giles grimaced, put his glasses back on. "Um," he began, and both Buffy and Faith looked at him sharply.

"Um?" Buffy repeated incredulously, glaring at him. "Giles, unless that's a new British slang word for a long, elaborate explanation, you're gonna have to share a little more."

"I — I don't know?" Giles said helplessly, shrugging. Buffy growled. "We, uh — we'll just have to keep our eyes peeled for anything unusual. In the meantime," he said, his voice becoming stronger, "Faith should rest." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, brow furrowed. "We have to find another way to deal with this bloody box. Magic doesn't seem to be particularly effective."

"Fine," Buffy muttered angrily. "I can take Faith back to her hotel." She began tenderly helping the other Slayer up.

"Be careful," Giles said tightly. "I don't believe the Mayor is going to be especially happy with his ritual being disrupted. He may send people after us, or after the box."

"Well, who knows? Faith could probably fight them off with her new, undiscovered demon powers," Buffy said irritably. Giles gave her a look and she cringed. "Sorry."

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy and Faith walked cautiously through the town, growing more anxious as dusk enveloped Sunnydale. They opened the door to Faith's room, to the now-familiar peeling plaster, unpleasant smells of the motel, clothes strewn haphazardly around the room and unmade bed. Buffy had one arm wrapped around Faith's waist and the other holding her elbow, and she could feel how weak the other Slayer was, how unstable and trembling she was. It scared her.

She gently helped Faith undress, ignoring her sexually charged comments and suggestions, and helped her into bed.

"You say one more word about the power of sexual healing and I'm knocking you unconscious. Again," Buffy said sternly, and Faith smirked weakly.

There was a certain forced nonchalance to Faith's teasing that made Buffy think she was more unnerved than she was letting on. Almost as if Faith was trying to cover up the fear of her own fragility with jokes and innuendoes.

"You need rest. And by rest I mean sleep, not lying on your back," Buffy said affectionately, trying to keep the concern out of her voice.

She lay Faith down gently, pulled the covers over her and brushed a stray hair off her face. Faith was looking back up at her, eyes half-closed with exhaustion and full of implicit trust.

"B?" she said, propping herself up and suddenly looking more alert as Buffy stepped back.

"Yeah?"

"Could, uh — could you stay with me?" Faith asked in a small, hesitant voice. Buffy's heart did a strange complicated flip.

She smiled. "'Course I will." Faith relaxed against the pillow, eyes closing again. "Lemme call my mom to let her know."

Buffy hung up the phone several minutes later, after explaining the situation to her mom, to see Faith already semi-dead to the world, mouth open slightly and breathing deep, steady breaths. She drew back the covers and quietly crawled next to her, feeling Faith shift and press herself along Buffy's back. Her arm snaked itself around Buffy's stomach, her body molding perfectly. Buffy grasped Faith's arm tighter, felt the other Slayer's head and warm breath against her shoulder, and sank into her.

Chapter 24: Inside

Author's Notes:

The air was unusually thick the following night in the cemetery. Buffy and Faith were walking side-by-side, doing a routine patrol after Giles essentially kicked them out of the library for being too obnoxious. They were growing tired of researching, feeling that overwhelming itch under their skin to move, to slay, so they decided, or were quite possibly forced to, get some fresh air and look for the Mayor's flunkies.

Faith had woken up that morning looking and feeling much stronger, to Buffy's immense relief. It appeared the spell had just knocked her out, without any other unfortunate consequences.

"You'd tell me if some demon part was sticking out of me, right?" Faith asked, gazing at Buffy with a pleading, earnest expression. "I mean, you wouldn't be all like, 'No, Faith, of course there's not a third arm comin' out your back,' just to spare my feelings, right?"

Buffy looked at her skeptically. "You kidding? I'd be taking pictures and selling them to the highest buyer if that happened. I'd make you into a lucrative circus freak." She grinned.

Faith gave her a dirty look. "Thanks for the comfort, blondie. Here I am, being all vulnerable and shit, and you're taking advantage of my fragile state."

Buffy shrugged, smirking at her. "I take advantage of you every other way, so why not?"

Faith laughed at that. "Props, B. Glad you've decided to own up to how you use me shamelessly. 'Course, if -" she stopped talking abruptly, looking away sharply. Buffy followed her head and grinned in anticipation, feeling it too.

"Score," Faith said excitedly. She looked at Buffy with a predatory grin and took off suddenly. Buffy rolled her eyes, muttering insults under her breath, and ran after her.

She skirted a mausoleum and saw Faith already pounding on a regular, non-Mayor-employed vampire, looking positively gleeful. Faith, not the vampire. The vampire was looking distinctly like he was getting his ass kicked by a violence-deprived Slayer. Buffy skidded to a stop, leaned against a gravestone, crossed her arms, and watched. God, how she had missed this. Watching Faith in motion, watching as she twisted and punched, muscles tightening under the surface, that fluid grace that only she possessed. Buffy saw her face, glowing with happiness and the thrill of the fight. Her eyes were flashing with a deep, feral threat. It had been far too long since either of them had this kind of simple brawl.

Buffy tore her eyes reluctantly from the acrobatic show in front of her to see three more vampires, suited up and growling, approaching them.

"Faith! We got incoming!" Buffy yelled, and turned to face them.

She was expecting some sort of interrogation, some sort of questioning as to where the Mayor's box was, but the vampires spread out silently and lunged at her in a coordinated wave.

Oh, penis.

Ducked and weaved, jabbed, right-left-kick, head snapping back with a fist to the chin, body thrumming and heart pounding. She could see Faith in the corner of her vision, wailing on the same vampire, and felt a rush of irritated fear.

"Faith?" she shouted. "Little help?"

Faith utterly, completely, totally ignored her, and proceeded to toss the non-Mayor-sponsored vampire into a tree. What the hell? There wasn't really time for anything more than a frustrated obscenity before Buffy was thrown onto her back with a kick to the chest. Vaulted up with her fist clamped down on a stake, eyes hard and body tight.

"Step up, boys. Looks like my girlfriend decided to be a raving bitch, so it's just you, me, and the expectant guy with the pitchfork," Buffy said rigidly.

The vampires advanced, snarling, and Buffy suddenly wished for a rocket launcher. Dropped to the ground, spun her foot around and caught two of them unaware, sending them crashing to the grass. Furious jabs from the other vamp and no chance to stake them. The two others scrambled up and lunged at her. She realized this was a losing battle. These vampires were fast, organized, executing synchronized moves that left her bloody and weak.

"Faith!" she yelled desperately, as loud as she possibly could. She saw the other Slayer blink, freeze for a moment, and then shake her head and snap it around to see the rest of the vampires congregating on Buffy.

Buffy dodged a punch, saw Faith stake the vampire she had been beating to a bloody pulp and sprint over to do a brutal jump-kick into one of the vampires' backs.

"About freaking time," Buffy muttered angrily, and managed to out-maneuver one of the Mayor's vamps and plunge the stake into his chest.

The remaining vampire, seeing two unhappy Slayers converge on him, stakes out and raised, made a quick decision and ran as fast as he could in the other direction.

"Spineless little shit!" Faith called after him, but made no move to follow.

Buffy strode over, feeling her body humming with anger and adrenaline, and moved right up into the other Slayer's face. Faith looked back at her, and Buffy saw something nakedly lethal, something blatant and carnal in her eyes. Heat was rolling off of her in hazy rippling waves.

"What the hell happened back there, Faith?" Buffy asked furiously, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Last time I checked, we're supposed to have each others' backs, not go off on our own solo homicidal missions!"

"I just got caught up in the fight," Faith responded distantly, her voice rough and deep, her eyes running hungrily over Buffy's face and body. "Felt too good." She snapped her head up and Buffy shivered under the intensity of Faith's gaze, gazing into dark pupils so dilated they swallowed her whole. "It's been too long, B." Except Buffy didn't think she was referring to fighting any more.

"What -" was all that Buffy was able to utter in a shaky voice before Faith grabbed her shoulders and actually lifted her off the ground, slamming her roughly into the tree behind them. Her breath was wrenched from her, her stomach soaring and clenching.

Buffy opened her mouth to suck in a breath and Faith's tongue was suddenly inside, sweeping in forcefully and claiming it. She found herself pressed into the tree, bark rubbing coarsely against her back, Faith's breasts pushing sharply into hers. There was a moment of pure shock before Buffy's body responded to the flare of heat, her mind still lagging four feet behind. Her lips moved back, tongue meeting Faith's, her movements growing desperate, hips bucking, waves of heat and arousal surging through her, her entire body searching for friction.

Faith thrust her hips forward, pressing almost painfully into the throbbing pulse between Buffy's legs and making her moan. Her hands left trails of blazing heat as they moved under Buffy's shirt, pushing her bra up in a swift, savage motion and cupping bare breasts, ripping a shuddering groan from Buffy. Faith pulled her mouth away and Buffy barely had time to inhale before the other Slayer wrenched her pants down, slid her hand down, fingernails raking across her stomach, and slipped fingers into searing moisture. Buffy gasped and shuddered as thin, strong fingertips stroked and circled her, felt as if they were snapping through threads of self-control.

"Fuck, B, you're so wet," Faith growled, the deep hunger in her voice making Buffy shiver.

"Faith," she groaned. "God, I — please."

Faith's fingers continued caressing her and Buffy bit her lip, moaning with frustration as they stayed soft and outside of her, dancing around where she wanted it most.

"Please what?" Faith asked softly. Her eyes were burning into Buffy's.

"Inside. Jesus, Faith — inside," Buffy gasped, vaguely registering how her voice had turned pleading.

This felt so different. Felt so raw, so jagged, so fucking dirty. She had never begged during sex, had never heard herself sound so plaintive and helpless. It felt as if Faith was tearing her open, leaving her writhing and uncontrolled and vulnerable.

Faith began sliding a finger inside her, slowly, so slowly. Buffy felt her walls clench violently around it, her hips thumping against the tree, a deep, vibrating moan going through her.

"Like this?" Faith asked huskily, leaning closer to Buffy's ear. Closed her mouth and teeth around Buffy's neck and bit down, almost hard enough to break skin.

"Faith," she whispered. She felt like she was falling apart. "I — I need ..."

"Say it," Faith said forcefully, running her tongue along Buffy's neck. She was trembling uncontrollably, desperate for release.

"God — more fingers. Please," she said in a strangled, weak voice, arching her back.

Faith removed her hand and grasped Buffy's thighs, pushing her higher up against the tree and locking her legs around her own waist. She moved forward, her mouth returning to Buffy's neck, fingers suddenly driving deep inside. Buffy cried out loudly, the moan echoing in her ears, ringing through her body. Faith buried herself in Buffy, reaching inside and ripping groans and unidentifiable noises from her throat. Every thrust made her call out in pain and pleasure, every movement of her fingers sent Buffy closer to that achingly deep precipice.

"Do you know how good you feel, how goddam perfect you feel around my fingers?" Faith growled, and Buffy whimpered, clutched onto her, fingernails digging into her scalp, her shoulders. Her voice resounded in her entire body, an echo that made her clench and shiver. "How good it feels to be inside you, to be fucking you?"

"Faith," she gasped, and tilted her head back. "Yes — fuck, yes."

Her hips and back were being shoved into the tree with every thrust. It felt like Faith was crawling inside her, filling her up, stretching her open, making her whole. She felt her add another finger and shuddered at the friction, at that feeling of elasticity, of expansion. She was teetering on that brink, unstable and trembling, and Faith's teeth sudden and sharp on her neck made her surge forward, cry out. It entered into the edge of her vision, that swelling, that piercing, exquisite sensation, and she felt it start from the pit of her stomach.

"You're gonna come for me, Buffy," Faith said, low and rough in her ear, drawing out her name like she was gripping it between her fingers. "You're gonna come hard, and you're gonna come now."

She did. Her body, her mind broke open as the other Slayer's hand sunk and curled into her, as Faith's fingers pressed into the deepest parts of her and brought out something she didn't even know was there. Her orgasm spread through, shattered her, made her melt and cry and whimper and break. It was almost beyond her capacity, almost too intense. And Faith was there, holding her up, holding her in, holding her together. Sounds and liquids and emotions were spilling out of her and she couldn't control them, and she felt Faith there to absorb them, to take them in.

Her legs were so tight around Faith that she was sure they were cutting off her breathing. Her fingernails were embedded in her shoulders, scalp, neck. Every muscle in her body was clenched and rigid, and she waited for it to wash through her, to leave her broken. It faded, and Buffy was left boneless against the tree, unable to feel anything except a tingling in her feet and a warm throb between her legs. Faith was there, hands supporting her legs, kissing gently along her neck. Her heart was still thumping wildly as Faith set her down and stepped back.

Her eyes were still brilliant and huge, dark with lust, her smile feral and hungry. Buffy shivered again. Faith slowly kneeled down, smiling that dangerous smile and keeping eye contact with Buffy the entire time, and Buffy felt her breathing grow ragged as the other Slayer ran hands up her legs. Faith was still staring at her as she took one of Buffy's thighs and threw it over her shoulder, tugging her ass forward so that she was practically on top of her. Faith's eyes looked like small pricks of fire, scalding Buffy's, as she flicked out her tongue almost teasingly.

"Oh," she cried out weakly. "Faith — I don't know if I ..."

"Yes, you can," Faith said quietly, the vibrations from her voice and breath causing Buffy to shudder. "'Cause I'm not gonna stop until you do."

Her tongue moved forward again, sliding more firmly through swollen folds. Buffy arched her back, dug her nails into the tree behind her, and moaned. Faith put her hands on Buffy's ass, suddenly shoving her hips forward and causing her to collide with the other girl's mouth. Buffy's entire body jerked as Faith's mouth crashed between her legs, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. She heard a strange whimpering cry and realized vaguely that it was coming from her.

"Oh, my God," Buffy gasped, as she felt Faith's mouth engulf her.

Her last orgasm had left her limp and drained, and now, thirty seconds later, she felt vibrant and shivering and on the verge of another. How did Faith do this to her? Turn her into a shaking, delirious mess. It felt different this time, too. Everything felt brighter, and at the same time, darker. Like they were tapping into something deep and coarse, exposing it, drawing it out.

Faith's tongue slid down from her clit and slipped inside her, and Buffy sucked in her breath in a strangled whimper and ripped a chunk of bark from the tree behind her as her hand moved to hold Faith's head. Pressed a trembling palm against Faith's hair, almost inadvertently pushing the other girl's mouth deeper, and called out her name. Her hips were bucking uncontrollably, her back arched and quivering, head scraping against the tree. Faith's hands on her ass were trying to hold her in one place, and they grew tighter as Buffy's movements grew almost frantic.

"Faith," Buffy cried out hoarsely, as Faith's mouth molded to her, inside her.

And suddenly, her second orgasm was upon her. Her mouth opened in a silent yell, everything quaking and expanding. Liquid heat poured through her, out of her, and she felt a molten wave of searing light coarse through her. She came with Faith's name on her lips, with Faith's strong tongue inside her, with Faith behind her eyelids, thinking only of Faith. She twisted until she was wrung out, and Faith's mouth left her and she whimpered with the lack of heat and pressure.

Faith got up from her knees and Buffy stood, feeling a slow wave of prickles move across her skin. Her breathing was still ragged and shallow. How could she still want more? The pulsing between her legs was still conspicuously present, and she felt it increase as Faith pressed her into the tree and kissed her. She could taste herself on Faith's lips, and didn't really have the time or motivation to work out if she should be turned on by that.

"B," Faith said in a soft, intense voice, drawing back.

Buffy saw the other girl's hands reach down, unbuckle her own jeans. She found herself reacting on pure instinct, following that trail of heat connecting them, and reached out a hand to help her unbutton them and slip inside Faith's pants. Used her other hand to grab Faith's shirt and whirl her around, flipping their positions and feeling a surge of need, of possession as she pushed Faith into the tree. She wanted her, wanted to take her, her own arousal rising with Faith's. Kissed her and slipped fingers into her panties to reach that place where searing heat flowed out of her.

"God, Buffy," Faith growled. "I need you."

"Need me to do what?" Buffy whispered, and wondered for a split second where this was coming from, how she was feeding off of Faith's energy so hungrily and unabashedly.

"Fuck — fuck me, B. Please," Faith answered, voice full of naked want, weaving her hands through Buffy's hair and pulling her head forwards, and Buffy's stomach clenched with it.

As she wrenched Faith's pants down and began sucking on her pulse point, Buffy reflected that they probably wouldn't return to the library for quite some time.

~ — ~ — ~

It was around two hours later that they finally swung open the library doors and strode in, holding hands. Buffy's entire body felt relaxed, loose, her skin humming pleasantly. Faith would turn to her, eyes dark and smoldering, grinning that lopsided smirk, and Buffy would melt. She had never experienced anything like that in her entire life, had never been possessed by a person or a need so intensely.

"I hope you have two have returned calmer and more prepared to research," Giles said distantly, his attention focused on the book in front of him.

Buffy and Faith exchanged a look, and she bit her lip and flushed at Faith's knowing grin.

"Sure, G-man. Just needed a release, you know? Take our energy out on somethin'," Faith responded, her voice deeper and rougher than usual, her eyes glittering.

Buffy flushed and smacked her lightly as multiple heads raised at her remark.

"Yeah, those wacky vampires — sure are energy-takers," Buffy said hoarsely.

Willow smiled and shook her head, lowering her eyes back down to a book. Xander was blinking rapidly. He jerked his head back down and swallowed.

"We find anything new?" Buffy asked hopefully, as she and Faith sat down at the table, still gently linking fingers.

"If by 'new' you mean the complete opposite," Xander grumbled.

"It's been a glass half-empty kind of day," Willow added unhappily.

"Yes, well, not to interrupt the wonderfully useful demoralizing," Giles began dryly, removing his glasses and taking out his ever-present handkerchief, "but I found a reference to something called the 'Essence of Azazel'."

"Check out the alliteration in that baby," Xander contributed.

Giles spared him one unamused glare before putting his glasses back on and returning to the book. "There's not a very large description here, but I believe it may be a box used in dark rituals."

"Okay. So, who was this Azzel guy?" Buffy asked, frowning. She let go of Faith's hand and leaned forward.

"If memory serves, Azazel was an enigmatic biblical figure," Giles responded thoughtfully. "There are conflicting opinions, but Azazel was generally portrayed as the personification of wickedness, of — of impurity and such." He bent over, began reading furiously. He raised his head after several moments. "It's not a particularly illustrative passage, but this may be what we're looking for."

"Sweet, G," Faith said, and stood up. "You guys do the research thing. I still got some energy to burn, don't wanna disrupt the geek balance."

Buffy gaped at her. She had energy to burn? Buffy was feeling distinctly non-energetic, much like she had just been subjected to ten full-body massages and given an elephant tranquilizer. Where was this limitless store of energy that Faith was tapping into? Was them having sex for, like, three hours against a tree just some sort of elaborate, very vivid fantasy?

Wesley stood up hastily as Faith made a move to leave. "Faith," he said in a loud, self-assured voice. "As your Watcher, I must insist that you stay here and help."

Faith looked at him and Buffy saw something dangerous and dark flash in her eyes. "Well, Wes, as a Slayer who could pummel the living shit out of you, I don't think you're really in a position to be insisting anything."

There was a moment of tense silence as everyone raised their heads at Faith's unexpectedly threatening tone. Wesley looked flustered and a little paler. "That — that is not the -" he began to sputter, but Faith cut him off.

"I'm out, guys," Faith threw over her shoulder as she walked out, utterly ignoring Wesley's attempts at speaking.

Buffy watched the library doors swinging after her, feeling startled and confused. That was surprising, and not in a particularly good way. Faith was generally an anti-authority kind of gal, but what just happened was approaching disturbing.

Buffy turned around, frowning, and met Willow's questioning, concerned eyes. Buffy shrugged at her and smiled weakly, trying to maintain a level of nonchalance while her stomach was churning. Even while she had been standing, Faith hadn't even looked at her, like she was just part of the background. She's just restless, Buffy thought. She gets like that. Nothing to worry about.

The others, after exchanging uncomfortably bewildered expressions, had returned to their books. Buffy glanced at Giles and saw him staring off into the distance, frowning. He shook his head and bent over the book again, and she did the same, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in her stomach.

"Ah," Giles said softly, after several minutes of silent information-gathering. Buffy glanced up at him. "Yes, here, it mentions Azazel. A figure in Hebrew scriptures, a 'spirit of desolation and ruin,' 'the seducer of men and women.'" He looked up as well, thinking furiously. "The Essence of Azazel would be a perfect ingredient for a dark ritual if this is correct," he mumbled, nodding.

"Okay, so now we know what's inside the box," Buffy said, and then frowned. "Wait, what's inside the box?"

"His essence. Not a physical object, you see. Possibly a — a mass of energy, some magical, intangible force," Giles answered pensively, standing up and beginning to pace. "The Mayor would be able to somehow harness it for the ritual."

"Can we, uh, tangify it? So I can squash it into tiny little pieces?" Buffy asked, leaning forward and frowning.

"Attempting to translate the Buffy-speak, I'm going to assume you mean make it corporeal," Giles said dryly, and Buffy nodded sheepishly. "And no, I don't believe we can." He shook his head, looking frustrated, and continued pacing. "While this does tell us a great deal about the artifact, it doesn't describe how we could destroy it, or if that's at all possible."

"I may be asking for another British glare, but mallet?" Xander suggested, miming holding a hammer.

Giles tried, and failed, to look at him without glaring. Willow intervened. "Xand, that would just release all the energy, most likely in some big, dramatic evil explosion. Not really what we're looking for."

"Oh," Xander replied in a small voice.

"The Council may be able to help," Wesley suddenly contributed in a high-pitched voice. Faith's words were still clearly affecting him.

Giles looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose they might. I also have several connections I could use in England. Maybe go through different avenues to gather information about this object." He looked around. "You three can go home, get some rest. Wesley and I will stay here."

Buffy, Willow and Xander got up, breathing sighs of relief. They began gathering their things and walked out into the hallway, Willow shooting Buffy a sympathetic look.

"I'm sure she's just in some strange and very temporary funk," Willow said reassuringly. Buffy didn't have to ask who she was referring to.

"Yeah, probably. I — I think I'm gonna go look for her all the same. Just to make sure she's not doing anything incredibly stupid."

Xander and Willow nodded. As she left them, she could have sworn they moved closer together than was strictly necessary. Buffy frowned and decided she was imagining it, and walked off to look for her errant girlfriend.

Chapter 25: Hero and Universal Golden Girl

Author's Notes:

Dusk was settling as Buffy wandered through the various cemeteries. Finding nothing except her growing anxiety, she made her way to the Bronze. If Faith wasn't off killing things, then she was dancing and drinking, Buffy thought. She felt a surge of uncomfortable jealousy, imagining Faith twisting and moving in the middle of a teeming crowd.

Buffy opened the door to a blast of heat and music, and began scanning the crowd for that familiar writhing figure. She felt that curling anxiety increase as her eyes swept the room and found nothing. Where was she?

Buffy left quickly, walking out into the alley with her head down, thinking furiously. If Faith wanted to disappear, she had proven over and over that it was relatively easy for her. She began running through a list of seedy, violent places where Faith was likely to go, and snapped her head up as noises filtered through her contemplative haze. Heavy breathing, clothes rustling, moans ... that sounded familiar.

Her stomach was plummeting, her palms cold, her mouth dry before she even saw them. Wrapped around each other, oblivious to the world. Faith was against the alley wall, her legs hooked around a random guy's waist, her hands running over the back of his head, his shoulders, his bare ass moving against, into her. Buffy stopped and looked at them, trying to absorb it. It should have been more difficult to process, but the noises and blatant transparency of what they were doing sliced through any confusion. Buffy could see her, kissing him, grinding against him, and every soft moan and caress cut into her, ripped her heart open.

Buffy heard a low, broken sob and realized it had come from her own mouth. She saw, with a painful clenching in her heart and stomach, Faith pull back and snap open her eyes to land on Buffy. He was still thrusting into her as their gazes locked, and Buffy saw the other Slayer's eyes almost pitch black with dangerous lust. Faith suddenly grinned.

"Hey, B," she called out lazily, her breath shallow and ragged as he moved against her. "You up for a three-way, sweetheart?"

The guy stopped and looked around quizzically, twisting his head to see Buffy standing there.

Buffy felt her breath snag, felt her throat close. She opened her mouth and couldn't say anything. Still smiling widely, Faith dropped down and pushed the guy away impatiently.

"Hey!" he yelled, stumbling and scrambling to pull up his pants. "What the hell?"

"Fuck off," Faith growled, shoving him again. He staggered, looking furious and confused, and turned around with an angrily muttered, "Crazy bitch."

Faith walked over to Buffy languidly, seductively, her hips swaying and eyes smoldering. She was smirking. She sauntered up to her, moved into her space, put hands on her hips and tugged them closer.

"What's up, girlfriend?" she said quietly, licking her lips slowly.

Buffy swallowed. "What — what the hell are you doing?" she said, suddenly finding her voice strong and incensed. She took several steps back, her fists clenching painfully, Faith following her with eyes that burned.

Faith snorted. "Gettin' off, princess. Thought that was pretty obvious."

"Why are you doing it with him?" Buffy asked unevenly, angrily.

Faith shrugged, her feral grin making Buffy's stomach twist. "A chick's got needs, B."

Buffy clenched her jaw. "So, after telling me you love me, after screwing me for three hours, you decide to go and bang the first asshole you meet, 'cause, hey, you've got needs?"

"B," Faith shook her head, laughing slightly. "You really think you, the girl who couldn't give head if she was force-fed a manual, are gonna be enough for me?"

Buffy felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She bit her lip, tried to stop tears from welling up in her eyes, kept hearing, I thought you were a pro, and a mocking laugh echoing sharply in her head. It's happening again, she thought. How is it happening again? She swallowed violently and grit her teeth.

"You seemed to enjoy it, F," Buffy said, clenching her jaw to stop her bottom lip from trembling.

"You were on your knees for me," Faith responded, cocking her head and smiling a cold, tight smile that made the hairs on Buffy's arm stand up. "Little Ms. Perfect, stepping off her throne and gettin' down and dirty. I enjoyed it on principle."

Buffy flinched and shook her head. "Why — why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"'Cause I got tired of prancin' around and pretending to be Buffy's little bitch," Faith answered, and her smirk was suddenly gone. Her eyes were flashing violence.

"Why did you stay, then?" Buffy said, wiping at her eyes furiously. "Why didn't you just go?"

Faith laughed again. "You think you kept me here, don't you?" She began walking back and forth in front of Buffy, shooting her darkly amused glances. "You saved my poor, helpless self, didn't you? I was on the edge of self-destruction, but you," she pointed at her, "Buffy Summers, hero and universal golden girl, pulled me back just in time." Faith shook her head in mock earnestness. "Gosh, I sure am lucky."

Buffy stared at her, tears streaming silently down. This can't be happening, she thought desperately. Please, let this be a nightmare.

"Ever occur to you that it's the most fucking fun I've ever had, jerking you around?" Faith asked, laughing. "Who needs dick and JD when I can get Buffy's sweet little pussy just by playin' the good little Slayer?" She put a hand to her heart, looked up at the sky melodramatically. "God, B, I'm so sorry. I didn't see him. I'm a bad, bad murderer." She snapped her head down, trapping Buffy with her piercingly ruthless gaze, and shot her a twisted grin. "Please fuck me good and proper. Fuck the bad out of me, baby."

"Stop it!" Buffy yelled, backing up and shaking her head. "Stop it," she whispered again.

"Too harsh for those pretty ears, B?" Faith continued loudly, smiling callously. "See, I recently decided that you're just not a good enough fuck to keep playin' nice. So, I'd like to introduce you to someone real special. Me," she said, her smile replaced by a vicious snarl. Her face was contorted in rage and scorn, her eyes burning with ferocious contempt. "The real me, the one who's not crying like a little girl and stringin' you along like a bitch in heat. I think we'll get along fucking great."

Buffy was sobbing, feeling her shoulders shake furiously. She could barely see Faith stalking towards her through the blur of her tears. She tried to move her hand, wipe her eyes, and had barely raised her hand before Faith grasped her wrist and put her other hand on her chest, shoving Buffy backwards into the wall.

Buffy cried out in pain as she hit the brick, as Faith grasped both her wrists and pinned them above her head. Faith moved in, pressed her against the wall and ground into her, and she felt her own body respond involuntarily. She grit her teeth, ignoring the sudden, uncontrollable flare of heat between her legs, looked directly, challengingly into the other Slayer's eyes, and froze.

Her eyes. They were wild, black, savage and unrelenting, holding none of the warm cockiness or affection they usually held. Buffy felt a rush of fear and something ... else. Something was tugging at the back of her mind, images and words running fleetingly before she could catch them.

impurity

desolation and ruin

Faith being thrown against the wall, her body face-down and unmoving

"... all Charles Manson for a while, right?"

The spell. Buffy almost said it out loud. Faith had been hit by the spell trying to destroy the box. Giles had said it had the essence of some ancient evil figure. Buffy's mouth opened and she almost went limp in Faith's grasp as frantic hope rushed through her.

"You still want this, don't you?" Faith whispered next to her ear. She ground her hips forward into Buffy's, flicked out her tongue against her neck.

Buffy shivered, tried to push her thighs together. Faith wrenched them roughly apart with her knee and leaned it, pressing into the warmth between her legs.

Faith laughed, dark and low. "You still want me to fuck you, don't you? You're a piece of work, you know that?" She put her mouth against Buffy's ear and whispered, "Tell me you don't want my fingers inside of you, B. I can feel how wet you are."

Buffy felt helpless, out of control. Faith's voice, deep and rough, was doing things to her body that made her bite her lip and moan. Yes, she thought. God, yes.

She flashed onto Faith stroking her back gently, kissing her softly, telling her "I love you," and her entire body hardened. Yes, I want it, she thought fiercely. But not like this.

Buffy wrenched her arm out of Faith's grasp and threw her fist towards the other Slayer's face. Faith caught her hand before it connected, smirking, and began tightening her grip. Buffy gasped as several of her fingers were crushed, as pain shot through her hand and Faith's smile grew wider, crueler.

"Not doin' so hot, are we, B?"

Buffy brought her knee up as hard as she could into Faith's stomach, wrenching her wrists out of the other Slayer's grasp and immediately following with a hard right hook as Faith stumbled back. Faith's head snapped back and Buffy kicked her in the chest, sending her flying back into a dumpster. She hit it and slid down, landing on her hands and knees and coughing. Faith's head snapped up as she stood, vicious sneer contorting her features.

"Well, well, look who's decided to step up. I always liked it better when you struggled, anyways, B. Gave everything more spice," Faith spat, wiping blood off of her lip and shooting her a twisted grin. "Hey, you remember that time where you fucked me against the wall after we beat the shit out of each other? That was pretty kinky shit, princess. You get off on that, don't you?"

"The only thing I get off on is sending demonic, body-stealing assholes like you back to the hell you came from," Buffy said steadily, tensing her muscles and crouching.

Faith laughed. "Makes it easier to think that, doesn't it? That I'm just being jerked around. But, hell, maybe there's nothin' in here except little ol' me," she said, voice saturated with mock innocence.

"Shut up," Buffy snarled.

Faith ran her tongue along her upper lip. "Come on, then," she said, grinning in violent anticipation and beckoning with her finger, "show me how it's done."

Buffy attacked. Right to the face, left to the side, knee to the stomach, roundhouse. Except Faith was gone after the first punch, grabbing Buffy's arm and wrenching it behind her, shoving her foot into her back and sending her sprawling on the ground. Buffy cried out in pain as she felt her shoulder pop out of place, as her face hit the pavement.

Faith moved quickly, pressing her knee into Buffy's back, pinning her injured arm behind her. Buffy whimpered as her shoulder was wrenched further.

"Shit, B. Look at you, beggin' for it. That's just sick," Faith said, and Buffy could hear her smirking.

Faith twisted her arm more and Buffy bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She wouldn't cry out, wouldn't give her that. Buffy began maneuvering her other arm to a position to hit Faith, and stopped as she heard sudden, rapid footsteps.

"Faith!" a voice yelled, and there was a brutal thump and Faith's weight was off her back.

Buffy turned her head to see Faith lying on the ground four feet away, groaning. She turned back around and saw Angel, holding a baseball bat and leaning down beside her, his face anxious and concerned.

"Are you okay, Buffy?" he asked, putting a warm hand on her shoulder.

Buffy turned over and scrambled up, clutching onto her dislocated shoulder and gasping. "Yeah," she answered breathlessly. "How — how did you know?"

Angel opened his mouth to answer, but closed it as his face hardened and his eyes snapped to look over Buffy's shoulder.

"Hey, baby," Faith said loudly. Buffy turned her head sharply, saw the other Slayer standing up and grinning. "Come to join the party? 'Cause if this isn't a perfect crowd for a soul-sucking orgy, I don't know what is."

"Sorry, Faith," Angel responded, moving in front of Buffy and wielding the bat. "I'm just here on business."

Faith laughed mirthlessly. "Not like you have a choice, huh? Speaking of combining business and pleasure," she said, pointing a finger up like she had just thought of something, "have I ever told you how much I love fucking Buffy? How her hot little cunt feels wrapped around my hand?" She smirked, her eyes flashing.

Angel's face remained expressionless. He turned his head to Buffy, muttered quietly, "She's stronger than both of us right now, with the box's energy inside her."

Buffy nodded as they spread out slightly, approaching Faith on two sides. She was eyeing them confidently, her body loose. They moved together, lunging at her. Angel swung the bat at her side, Buffy let her fist fly towards her cheek, and they were suddenly staggering as Faith dodged both of their shots and twisted out a roundhouse kick. Angel moved again before she had a chance to recover, swinging the bat into her head with a resounding whack.

Faith's head snapped to the side and Buffy swept out her legs with a kick. She went down, Buffy moved forward, and suddenly Faith's hands were on her throat. She blinked and tried to inhale as Faith's fingers dug into her neck, cut off her air flow. Another sickening thump from Angel's bat and Faith was two feet away, on one knee, rubbing the side of her face and sneering furiously.

They fought, twisted, danced for what felt like hours. Faith was fast, faster than them. Buffy blinked and Faith moved, weaved between them like they were standing still. Fists landed and bones shuddered, bricks disintegrated, dumpsters crumpled like aluminum foil. Buffy's shoulder felt like it was on fire, the fingers on her hand bent at odd angles, Angel was limping on his left leg, and Faith grinned lethally and looked invincible. What if they couldn't do this? What if they were both ended right here, because of some stupid spell gone wrong? Or what if she never got Faith back?

Buffy grit her teeth, felt a surge of resoluteness. No. She needed Faith. That couldn't happen. She looked around frantically as Faith and Angel were exchanging blows, picked up a trash can lid, and swung it as hard as she could at Faith's head. Faith spun, blood spurting from her lip, and Angel and Buffy moved in together, baseball bat and trash can lid flashing. Faith knocked Buffy's weapon out of her hand and slammed into her, sending her careening into the brick wall and pressing a forearm to Buffy's throat, pinning her. Through an oxygen-deprived haze Buffy saw Angel move up behind Faith, his face hard and determined, and swing the bat. Crack, and Faith was lying on the ground unconscious and Angel was holding onto half a bat uncertainly.

Buffy slumped against the wall, rubbing her throat and trying to inhale shakily. Angel grasped her arm gently.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly.

Buffy nodded. "How did you know?" she asked again, her voice hoarse and strangled.

"Giles called. He said Faith was acting strangely before, wanted to make sure nothing like this happened."

"Good old Giles," Buffy said, sighing. "Thank God for anal retentiveness."

They looked down at Faith's unconscious body. Buffy kneeled down, cupped her face with one hand and gently stroked Faith's cheek.

"How are we gonna get it out of her?" she asked, looking up at Angel.

He shook his head. "I don't know right now, but we'll figure it out. We always do."

Buffy stood up again and hugged herself, hearing Faith's savage words echoing in her head. Buffy Summers, hero and universal golden girl, Faith said, laughing and mocking. Buffy shut her eyes tight. Fuck the bad out of me, baby, Faith's voice said in a sardonic, twisted tone. She shivered. The real me, the one who's not crying like a little girl and stringin' you along like a bitch in heat.

Buffy felt arms around her and jumped, before realizing Angel was hugging her gently. He was just holding her, silently, strongly, and she pressed back into him. She didn't want to, knew she didn't have time, but she started crying, tears pouring out of her like those merciless words poured out of Faith. Angel held her as she shuddered, sobbing into his chest. Faith had said those things that existed deep inside Buffy, that gnawed at her self-certainty and hope in their relationship. That made her think that something deep and dark and twisted resided inside both of them. She felt a bright, burning drop of shame, thinking of how her body had reacted even then.

Angel held her until her sobs receded, until she was just left with a hole in her chest and an emptiness where Faith was supposed to go. Buffy pulled back, wiping her face. She gasped as her shoulder throbbed suddenly, clutching at it with white knuckles. Angel looked at it, grimacing. He grasped it with both hands, met Buffy's tight gaze, and suddenly wrenched it back into place. Buffy cried out, eyes shut tightly as the burning pain faded. She opened them to see him looking at her with a deeply empathetic, gentle gaze.

"I'm sorry," Angel said.

Buffy nodded, her eyes hard, her heart shattering. "Me too."

Chapter 26: How Things Work Smoothly

Author's Notes:

Buffy swung the library doors open roughly, marching in, eyes flashing at Giles and Wesley's startled faces.

"Get it out of her," she said without preamble.

Giles face fell while Wesley turned his head to one side and cursed. Giles sat down at the table, put a hand over his eyes and rubbed them gently.

Buffy opened her mouth to say more, possibly asking them why they were sitting on their asses while Faith was being devoured from the inside out, but she shut it as a woman, tall, slender, and rigid, walked out of Giles' office. The woman was surveying her with a type of detached interest, holding herself tightly, arms crossed in front of her chest. Buffy glanced at the sleek and obviously expensive suit she was wearing, at the impeccably shined high heels, and refrained, with difficulty, from sneering at her.

"Council, right?" Buffy asked insolently, looking her up and down appraisingly. The woman nodded. "Yeah, you guys have a certain smell."

The woman raised an eyebrow coolly. "Well, I can certainly see your reputation is warranted," she said, smiling slightly and looking utterly unfazed by Buffy's lack of politeness.

Wesley stepped forward, gesturing at the woman and eyeing her with something close to sycophantic terror. "Buffy, this is Meredith Taft. She is serving as the Council's envoy to assess Faith's involvement in the, uh, docks incident."

"I'd give you a house-warming cactus, Mere, but this isn't really the best time," Buffy said sweetly. She turned to Giles, her face hardening. "We used the shackles in Angel's mansion. She's unconscious, but we don't know how long that's gonna last. She's strong, Giles. Stronger than me and Angel together."

"I assume this is Faith Lehane you're discussing?" Meredith interrupted.

Buffy was momentarily distracted by the divulgence of Faith's last name. Had she really not known that? Lehane?

Buffy shot Meredith a quick glance before turning back to Giles. "You do have a plan, right?" she asked, half-hopefully, half-austerely.

"In the process," Giles admitted, and Buffy groaned, ran a hand through her hair.

"Giles," she stated firmly, taking a deep breath. "Some evil biblical demon has taken control of my girlfriend and is hollowing her out," she said through gritted teeth. "We don't have boatloads of time for processing."

Giles stood up, looking lost. He began pacing, rubbing his face. "Buffy, I — I don't even know where to start."

"Evil demon possession? Isn't that, like, what you butter your scones with?" Buffy asked irately. "Exorcism, anyone?"

Giles shook his head, stopping to look at her. "It's distinctly different from a demon possession, Buffy. This is — is Azazel's essence, not corporeal form. It's deeply intertwined with Faith's soul and body now. Attempting to remove it may kill her."

"Don't tell me that!" Buffy shouted furiously. She walked over to the table, put her palms out, her head down and arms shaking. "What about your contacts?" she asked abruptly, turning to Giles and Wesley.

Giles shook his head. "Nothing," he said quietly. Wesley wasn't looking at her, staring at the ground. "The box must have been endowed with some type of defense mechanism," Giles was muttering to himself, stroking his face wearily. "Any magic would have caused Azazel to abandon it, transfer to another body."

"This isn't happening," Buffy muttered hopelessly. "There has to be something. What — what about some sort of energy," she made a clenching motion with her fist, "sucking thingy? Like, extract it from her?"

"That may be our best hope. I'll begin researching potential spells, but Buffy, I cannot promise anything," he said gravely. "This is something we haven't dealt with before."

"I don't want to hear it," Buffy said heatedly. "You find me something. I'm not watching the girl I love be destroyed." She walked behind the library counter and grabbed the tranquilizer gun they used for Oz's transformations.

Without glancing at any of the people in the room, Buffy wrenched the doors open furiously and strode out. She heard Meredith's distant, cultured voice saying dryly, "She's certainly doesn't shy away from giving out orders, does she?"

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy was barely aware of her surroundings as she walked towards Angel's mansion. Her head was whirling with ideas, desperate denials, Faith's wild, black eyes, the words that felt more like corkscrews in her stomach. She strode into the mansion, seeing Angel standing with his back to her, watching Faith's still limp body on the ground.

"She waking up?" Buffy asked, walking over to stand beside him.

"She twitched a couple of times," Angel responded quietly. He glanced at the gun Buffy held. "Tranq?"

"Yup. We use this baby to keep wolfy Oz from tearing our throats out." She hefted it, cocked it. "And now we can use it to keep demony Faith from tearing our throats out. Wonder how many of my friends are gonna have to be forcibly sedated at some point."

There was a soft moan from Faith's body as she shifted slightly. Angel and Buffy tensed immediately, muscles tight and fingers gripping weapons. They stood, staring intently at the body on the floor for several moments, and then began relaxing as it appeared Faith wasn't regaining consciousness.

"Got a plan?" Angel asked.

"Define plan."

"I'm gonna take that as a 'no'."

Buffy sighed. "Giles said exorcism is out because whatever's inside of Faith is — is connected to her now. Like twisted up in her." She tried to keep her voice steady. "So, he's looking for some spell to remove the energy without — without killing her."

"He will," Angel said softly, looking at Buffy as her voice broke. "You'll get her back, Buffy."

Buffy didn't trust herself to answer. She forced a weak smile and walked over to the wall across from Faith, sliding down and leaning against it, the gun resting loosely in her lap. Angel joined her after a few moments, his back against the wall a couple of feet away.

Buffy stared at Faith as they sat in silence. The entire situation had a disturbing, unpleasant sense of dИjЮ vu to it. A lover changing dramatically and unexpectedly, suddenly turning cruel, sadistic, violent. It brought her back to last year, to memories she never wanted to remember again. She glanced at the vampire beside her, taking in his soft, brown eyes, how he had held her just hours ago. It had felt so surrealistic back then, so utterly and bizarrely jarring, because the creature he had turned into was the complete opposite of Angel. Nothing in Angelus retained any of his gentleness, his reverence, his silent affection.

Faith, though. Buffy closed her eyes, visualizing the other slaying, smirking and laughing. Faith had always straddled that line between cocky and dangerous, between rebellious and malicious. There was something so unstable about her, something jagged behind those steady, confident eyes. Everything she said tonight was something Buffy had thought about, every word about the false pretense Faith maintained, about discovering who she truly was, strengthened that little voice inside Buffy's head. The voice that said, "Doesn't it look like Faith enjoys fighting too much?" and, "She doesn't give a shit about the world — why would she give a shit about you?" Buffy compared how the two people she loved had transformed, and asked herself if it made it better or worse — the fact that what Faith changed into was so much closer to her true self than Angelus ever was to Angel.

"Thinkin' about me, B?" a rough, sardonic voice asked, and Buffy was jarred out her thoughts, snapping her eyes open.

Buffy jerked her head to see Faith on her back, propping herself on her elbows and smirking at her. She flinched as she met Faith's eyes, so black and fierce, saturated with violence and lust.

Buffy and Angel both stood up, positioning their limbs, shifting their weight automatically to prepare for attack. Buffy hefted the gun, put her hand close to the trigger.

Faith rose too, pushing herself up slowly and seductively. She leaned against the wall behind her, crossing her arms casually, the chains clinking against the each other. "You don't need that, B," Faith said, motioning her head at the gun and smiling. "I'll play nice."

Buffy didn't answer, her face tight and hard.

"What, don't believe me?" Faith asked, cocking her head. She laughed abruptly. "Nah, I wouldn't either." She pinned Buffy down with a piercing, searching gaze. "Bet I know what you were just thinking, B."

Buffy stared back, giving nothing away.

"Well, besides imagining me naked with chains, you were thinking that I've never played nice," Faith said, smirking and licking her lips slowly. "Even when you're trying to pretend that this isn't me, that I would never say those mean, hurtful things," she pouted, "some part of you wonders, doesn't it?" She pushed off the wall, walked towards Buffy languorously, her eyes glittering. "And some part of you, the nasty part, the one that gets high off killing and screams while I'm fucking you against a tree, wants to say screw it and join me."

Faith stopped several feet away, the chain stretching from the wall. She was smirking nonchalantly, but Buffy could see how the other Slayer was trembling, barely repressing the furious energy inside her. Buffy still didn't say anything, her stomach churning, her hands shaking.

"You think you can ignore it? You think you can ignore me? I know exactly what's inside of you, princess, because it's inside of me." Faith stopped smiling, just looked at her with wild eyes. "Give in, B. Feels too good not to. Do you remember how you begged me? Do you remember how good it felt to just let go? To let me spread those sweet thighs, to -"

"Shut up!" Buffy yelled furiously, suddenly, raising the gun and stepping forward. Angel stepped forward too, flicking his eyes back and forth between the two Slayers.

Faith grinned widely and moved. Buffy blinked and Faith was two feet in front of her, straining against the chain and smirking.

"Yeah, B. Shut me up. We'd both get off on it."

Buffy aimed the gun and pulled the trigger with a growl. The dart whizzed out and buried itself in Faith's thigh. Faith snarled and wrenched the chains, her face contorting in inhuman rage. Buffy backed up, began frantically reloading the gun.

"Buffy," Angel said anxiously.

She finished, cocked the gun, and shot a second dart into the other Slayer's stomach. Faith stared down at it, her face going slack, her eyes unfocused and eyelids fluttering, and collapsed onto the ground.

Buffy was breathing heavily, her blood coursing fast and hot. She turned her head to meet Angel's searching, concerned eyes.

"Well," a voice suddenly said behind them. "Certainly seems like you kids have your hands full."

They both whirled around, Buffy instinctively raising the gun again, and froze as the Mayor of Sunnydale met their startled gazes.

~ — ~ — ~

The Mayor was standing casually, hands in his pockets, small smile gracing his face, two vampires flanking him. Buffy and Angel gaped at him for a few silent moments before Buffy remembered that he was most definitely evil. She moved forward threateningly and the Mayor held up his hands in surrender while the vampires growled.

"Hey now, little lady," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "I didn't come here to fight."

Buffy glared at him cagily, bringing the gun to her chest. "Right. Let me just get the special china we keep for chit chatting with mortal enemies."

He scrunched up his face in disapproval. "Mortal enemies. Such an ugly phrase, isn't it? And," he smiled at her, and there was a surprising amount of warmth mixed in with the scathing cruelty, "considering two of us here are immortal, it's ringing just a tad melodramatic."

Buffy's hard expression didn't change, but she lowered the gun a fraction of an inch. "Okay then, Mr. Mayor. Why don't you enlighten us human types why you're here."

The Mayor temporarily ignored her question and walked a couple steps in, glancing around the mansion. "Nice place you've got here, Angel," he said, nodding. "A little too sparse for my taste, but, well, not everyone appreciates dark mahogany the way I do."

Angel stared at him steadily.

"Was there an actual evil reason you're here, or was it just to annoyingly waste our time?" Buffy asked in an unfazed, skeptical tone.

The Mayor's eyes hardened into dark, merciless steel, and Buffy could abruptly see the figure that would obliterate Sunnydale without a second thought. "Manners, young lady. I could have you and your friends bled out and twitching on the floor in the time it takes me to wipe my hands."

Buffy's fingers tightened on the gun, her muscles automatically clenching. She flashed onto Giles and her friends, utterly unprotected, her eyes flicking involuntarily to Faith's unconscious figure. She heard Angel growl softly next to her.

The Mayor began walking around the mansion, hands in his pockets, looking positively relaxed. "Now, I'd prefer not to do that. Too unhygienic, too much paperwork, and frankly, not the publicity I'm looking for." He ran his fingers along the top of Angel's sofa and stopped abruptly, raising his head to look at them. "Is this micro-suede?"

Angel and Buffy exchanged a brief, doubtful glance.

"I've really been meaning to redecorate, you know, and nothing says 'I care about my constituency' like the right furniture fabric," the Mayor said, lowering his head again to examine the couch. "Of course, nothing says 'I care about my constituency' like not eating them, but, hey, you can't please everyone." He chuckled and began strolling around the mansion again.

"Getting back to business," he said, his face and voice growing serious, "I'm here because I understand that killing first and asking questions later isn't always the most practical way. I know how things work smoothly, Buffy." The Mayor turned to look at her, his eyes intelligent and searching. "And right now, the smoothest course for both of us is to recognize a mutual problem."

Buffy's eyes narrowed at him. The Mayor looked at Faith and then back at Buffy, raising his eyebrows.

"It gets worse, you know. The process speeds up," the Mayor said, flicking his eyes back to the other Slayer's figure and frowning. "Evil incarnate doesn't like to wait. Which is really just too bad," he said, sighing, his face scrunched up in disappointment, "because Azazel could have a heck of a short game with a little patience."

Buffy moved to put herself between the Mayor and Faith, her face hard. "We give you the box, you give us what exactly?"

He smiled warmly, paternally at her. "There's that bright, driven girl I was looking for." He stepped forward, moving to only feet in front of her. "You can't save her, Buffy," the Mayor said, motioning at Faith. "Not by yourself, anyway. The only way you can get her back is through me. You give me my box, I give you your girlfriend."

Buffy didn't say anything, her mind whirling, meeting his gaze.

"I'll give you a day. After that, there won't be much left of her to save." The Mayor walked out, the two vampire employees growling and following him, leaving Buffy watching his retreating figure with a mixture of anxiety, confusion, and powerful relief.

Chapter 27: Loss

Author's Notes:

"He offered what?" Giles asked in an incredulous, weary tone.

"A trade," Buffy answered rigidly.

"The box, I'm assuming, but in exchange for what?"

"Faith," she answered in a soft voice, moving forward. "Cured. Back to the way she was."

A moment of tense and disbelieving silence met her words. Xander was staring intently at the table in front of him, his brow furrowed. Giles had taken off his glasses, closed his eyes.

"Is — can we trust him, Buffy? How do we know he's not gonna take the box and just skedaddle? Or — or spike the figurative punch?" Willow asked anxiously.

"It'll be a physical trade-off, Wil. He hands us the spell or whatever, we give it to Faith and see if the good Mayor of Sunnydale gets to be disemboweled." Buffy began pacing. "He needs his box, though. I think it's too important to screw us over."

Wesley suddenly stood up. His eyes were narrowed furiously at Buffy. "Are you seriously considering this? Giving up our only advantage to save one person?" he asked disbelievingly.

Buffy closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore him.

"This could be our sole chance to prevent the Ascension, and you're willing to throw it away for one individual?" Wesley continued angrily, moving closer to Buffy. "This isn't about you or her, Buffy. This is about the town. Faith would understand that some things are more important."

Buffy turned to look at him, eyes blazing. "So now you know what Faith would want? Now, all of a sudden, you get to play the concerned Watcher and pretend you know anything about her?"

"Damn it, Buffy, this is not an option! Sacrificing an entire population for one violent, unstable Slayer -"

Wesley didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Buffy slammed him into the table and put her forearm against his throat. His eyes widened in fear as he met Buffy's wild, enraged ones.

"Buffy!" Giles called out in warning, standing up.

"Listen closely, Wes," Buffy said quietly, dangerously. "You ever talk about her like that again and I'll throw your ass in the Pacific Ocean to dog-paddle back to England." She backed off and Wesley was left against the table, trying not to faint. "Giles, make the call. We're not discussing this anymore."

"No, we're not," a cultured voice said.

All heads turned to watch Meredith Taft as she strode out of Giles' office.

"I have just conferred with the Watcher's Council. Mr. Travers has decreed that you are to do nothing. You are ordered to ignore the Mayor's offer," Meredith said in a cool, commanding voice. "If you are unable to find a way to restore Ms. Lehane, so be it."

Everyone, including Wesley, stared at her.

"So, just to get this straight," Buffy said slowly after several silent moments, her voice unsteady, "my orders, from a bunch of geriatric men thousands of miles away, are to sit back, maybe sip a daiquiri, and watch my lover die?" She felt her fingernails digging into her palm as she clenched her fists.

"You are the Slayer, Buffy. You, more than anyone, understand that personal feelings merely distract from your duty," Meredith responded, unruffled. "These are your orders. Your approval or disapproval is irrelevant."

Buffy laughed mirthlessly. "Well, thanks for clarifying the 'Slayer is a mere instrument' thing, Mere. I always thought that part was a little fuzzy." She walked over to the weapons cabinet and grabbed a broadsword. "How about whether or not I actually follow the orders? Is that relevant?"

Meredith sneered slightly at her. "You don't -" she stopped talking and began backing up as Buffy walked towards her, raising the sword.

"Now, let me tell you how it's gonna go," Buffy began in a steady, confident voice. "We're going to do the exchange. You," she pointed the sword at Meredith, who eyed it apprehensively, "are going back to England to deliver the sad, sad news that the Council no longer has a purpose. The Slayers are starting their own club, and, unfortunately, you're not invited. I'm done being somebody's instrument. I think it's time to start my own orchestra. Giles," Buffy turned her head to look at him, "make the call."

Giles nodded and walked into his office, looking grimly satisfied.

"Better hurry, Mere. The next flight leaves," Buffy looked at her watch, and back up, "oh dear, where does the time go?"

"You can't do this," she answered coldly. "The Council has been the guiding force for the Slayer for eons. One temperamental, foolish teenage girl isn't going to change that."

Buffy shrugged, said sweetly, "Well, I guess you really shouldn't have given super powers to temperamental, foolish teenage girls then. Because, the problem is, you can't do anything about it. We have the power and you have the funny accents." She hefted the sword again. "Now, you should probably leave, 'cause this thing in my hand isn't just a fashion accessory."

Meredith straightened up, raising her chin and sneering, and began moving towards the door.

"I think you're forgetting something," Buffy called. Meredith turned around to see Buffy pointing at Wesley. "The Council really should be more rigorous in house training, though. Wes here might need some new trousers."

Wesley flushed unattractively and pushed himself off the table, walking quickly out the door.

"This is not the end, Ms. Summers," Meredith said coldly, and with one more disdainful glance around the room, she left as well.

There were several moments of welcome silence as Willow and Xander stared at Buffy. She inhaled and closed her eyes, dropping the sword on the table.

"That was so hot," Xander blurted out. Buffy rolled her eyes and Willow gave him an exasperated glare.

~ — ~ — ~

They decided on a familiar, relatively neutral location, and so that night found the group, Angel, and a chained, unconscious Faith making their way to the docks. There was a thin, ominous mist spreading across the water, rising up from the smooth ocean like steam. Buffy kept shooting furtive glances at Faith, trying to reassure herself that this would all be over soon. She would have her back, and together they could deal with anything the Mayor threw at them. She would have the real Faith back, and all those things she said, all those things that made Buffy's heart splinter and her stomach twist into knots, would be the past product of a spell, nothing more.

They arrived, spread out, clutched weapons and hardened their faces. The Mayor arrived, once again looking supremely relaxed, four vampires flanking him. Skinner was there, leering nastily at Buffy. She ignored him, her eyes only for the Mayor. The two groups stopped twenty feet apart, standing off. Giles was behind the line, holding the box and watching over Faith's limp figure. The Mayor leaned to the side, stretching his neck to see the other Slayer.

"The horns haven't popped out yet, have they?" he asked, frowning.

Buffy's mouth grew into a tight line and the Mayor chuckled softly. "Just joshin' you." His brow furrowed. "Probably. I've never actually seen how far the transformation can go."

Buffy stepped forward. "If anything goes wrong with her, both you and your box get set on fire," she said rigidly. She could hear the waves lapping gently against the docks, but the noise did nothing to calm the roiling in her stomach and chest.

The Mayor laughed lightly and shook his head. "Nice imagery, but not a very effective threat. The box is impervious to that sort of thing, and I — well, let's just say I have a very high pain threshold."

He stepped forward as well, to only feet apart from her.

"You know, I really wasn't sure you would come," the Mayor said, peering at her searchingly, hands in his pockets. "I thought you might refuse, do the heroic, self-sacrificing thing. I personally don't understand that, but Slayers, phew," he snorted, "that's what you noble folks live and breathe."

Buffy heard the chains clink softly as Faith shifted in her sleep.

The Mayor leaned over again, looking at her unconscious figure. "And with Faith there. She's a wild card, isn't she?" he asked, shaking his head regretfully. "Reckless, violent — well, Allan's proof of that."

Buffy narrowed her eyes, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

"The man she killed," the Mayor explained, and then smiled unpleasantly as Buffy flinched involuntarily. "I know this is probably none of my business," he said quietly, conspiratorially, "but I just can't see this relationship working. I mean, here you are, the Slayer, the picture of righteousness and justice, and here's Faith, the rebel without a cause, or control, or really anything useful. I mean," he crossed his arms in front of his chest, "can you honestly say she's never going to make that mistake again? Can you honestly say you're not going to have blood on your hands again because of her?"

Buffy's knuckles were white, her arms trembling from clenching her fists so hard. She felt Angel move closer, put a calming, reassuring hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath.

The Mayor shook his head sadly again. "Give them the spell," he said, backing up.

Skinner stepped forward, still leering unattractively, and handed Buffy a tattered, ancient-looking scroll. She grasped it, turned around and brought it to Willow and Giles in the back.

"You don't need any ingredients," the Mayor said loudly. "It's just an incantation. Simple, but this particular one is a rare piece of magic. Practically had to strangle an Ochot demon, and you know how unpleasant those can be."

Willow held the scroll reverently, her eyes running over the words furiously.

"Can you do this, Wil?" Buffy asked quietly.

Willow met her gaze steadily, her eyes resolute and determined, and nodded. She sat beside Faith's figure, inhaled deeply several times, and began chanting in Latin. Everyone had twisted around to look at her, and there was a palpable sense of tense expectation. Buffy's insides were doing strange, chaotic motions, thoughts of whether it would work, whether the Mayor had given them a faulty or even detrimental spell, whether Faith would be how she used to be, whirled around her head. Angel's steady hand was still on her shoulder, and its coolness, its solidness, grounded her.

Willow finished chanting, and Buffy thought for a split second that her eyes held something dark and deeply powerful, but a bright flash of light from Faith claimed her attention. She could see, could feel the searing heat of the energy as it left Faith in a brilliant, vivid rush and flew into the box. Come on, she thought.

Buffy kneeled next to Faith, still keeping a safe distance, her eyes moving swiftly across her body and looking for some sign of consciousness. Faith moved, let out a small groan, and finally, her eyes opened. Buffy looked at her, was lost in her, feeling her heart expand as she saw that warm brown, that confused, lost emotion that made her look so young, so innocent. She wanted to reach out and touch her, but clenched her fists instead.

"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.

They reached her house and Buffy stepped over the threshold, turning back to smile gently at Angel.

"Thanks. I ... I'm really glad you're here, Angel. This would be -" she stopped abruptly, hearing voices in the kitchen. One of them sounded like ... but, no, that couldn't be. Angel looked at her, concerned.

Buffy moved towards the kitchen, Angel following her. She froze as she saw who her mother was talking to.

"Spike?!" she said incredulously.

"Spike," Angel growled behind her.

"Oh, balls," Spike said, rolling his eyes.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy moved quickly to her mother, grasping her arm and pulling her behind her. Joyce looked utterly lost.

"Exactly which part of 'never come back' was unclear?" Buffy asked angrily, taking the stake out she had stashed in the back of her pants. Of course, she thought. Because her life wasn't complicated enough.

"The 'never' part was a little vague," Spike said, taking a drink from the mug in front of him.

"Did you just — is that -" Buffy whipped around to face her mother. "Did you make him hot chocolate?" she asked, her voice reaching a high, slightly hysterical register.

"He was having relationship problems," Joyce said uncertainly. "He just looked so ... pathetic."

Spike adopted a mock-pouting expression, fluttering his eyes at Buffy and Angel.

Buffy strode forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his leather coat, lifting him and knocking over the mug in the process.

"Oi! I wasn't finished with that!" Spike protested loudly, before Buffy slammed him up against the kitchen wall. Roughly moving her forearm to his throat, she whipped out Mr. Pointy with her other arm and cocked it back.

"Willow!" Spike gasped out.

Buffy froze, her eyes narrowing. "Unless you've completely forgotten my name ..."

"She and the boy are my, what do you call it," he croaked, waving his hand weakly, "hostages."

"You have Willow and Xander," she stated, her stomach clenching. Of course. Spike wasn't stupid. Correction: Spike wasn't that stupid. He wouldn't show up without some leverage.

"Well, can certainly see why you're the boss-lady," Spike said in an infuriatingly smart-ass tone. "Nothing gets past you."

Buffy repressed an urge to hit him repeatedly and backed off, allowing Spike to readjust the collar of his jacket and smooth his hair back.

"Where?" she asked shortly.

Spike snorted, amused. "Got them shoved in your closet, Slayer. Go upstairs and fetch." He gave her a withering, contemptuous look. "Any more idiotic questions?"

Buffy glared at him, crossing her arms.

"What do you want, Spike?" she asked tightly.

"Right," Spike said, standing up straighter and jutting out his jaw arrogantly. "I need some supplies because your little witch is gonna do a spell for me. You and Nancy killjoy here," he jerked his head at Angel, "can tag along." He glanced coolly at her, cocking his head. "You stay out of my way and maybe your pathetic sidekicks don't end up as mangled, rotting corpses."

Buffy felt a hot swoop of anger in her gut. "Gee, Spikey, what do you think would happen to you if my friends got hurt?"

Spike shrugged apathetically. "Not really looking to find out. But neither are you, pet."

Buffy took a moment to convince herself that ripping Spike's head off his shoulders wouldn't be the smartest course of action. She glanced back at Angel, who was shooting Spike a death glare. Their eyes met and Angel nodded imperceptibly.

"Fine," she gritted out. "Let's go."

Spike grinned smugly at her and strode out the door, Angel close behind him.

"And when I get back," Buffy said, looking pointedly at her mother, "we're going to have a little chat about using up the last of the mini-marshmallows on the evil undead."

Joyce smiled sheepishly. "Have fun, sweetie," she called out after their retreating backs.

Chapter 29: A Beautiful Lie

Author's Notes:

Buffy was quietly seething as they walked downtown. Spike was walking ahead of them, looking slightly more subdued than usual. At least his arrogant swagger wasn't quite as swaggerful as it typically was. Angel was silent, but his annoyance was almost palpable. This was officially the worst-timed hostage situation ever. The Mayor had probably already performed whatever ritual he had to do and they desperately needed to be researching it. Buffy shot a furious glance at Spike, who turned his head and graced her with a shit-eating grin. Buffy growled.

They reached Main Street and Spike froze. Buffy screeched to a stop before she collided with his back.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

Spike was staring at a building across the street with a pained expression. "That store," he said, quietly sighing. "Me and Drusilla, we broke in 'cause she said the dolls were singing to her. And when all we found was this fucking ghastly Shag-Me-Elmo toy," he growled, mimed crushing something emphatically, "she was devastated. Had to drive 14 sodding hours before we found a dolly that was the right soprano." He let out a half-laugh, half-sob and then stared at the ground for several moments. "I would've done anything for her," he finished in a hoarse, cracked voice.

Buffy and Angel stared at him. "Spike," she said flatly. "This little jaunt would go much faster with less reminiscing about the 'good ol' days' of insanity and horror."

Spike sniffed heartily and straightened up. "Bugger reminiscing. I'm getting her back." He began walking again. Buffy and Angel exchanged an exasperated glance and followed him.

"The Magic Shop's at the corner," Buffy said after several more minutes down the street, gesturing at it. "Let's get your stupid -" she stopped abruptly, feeling that distinct and distinctly unwelcome sensation up her spine. "Son of a bitch," she finished with a growl. Spike raised an eyebrow at her less than logical sentence, and then they all spun around as footsteps echoed in the street.

"Spike," a voice said. Skinner appeared out of the shadows behind them, cutting them off, that insufferable smirk attached firmly to his face. A group of vampires flanked him. Buffy felt her stomach plummet.

"I know you, mate?" Spike asked casually. Buffy saw Spike slide his eyes quickly over the 15 or so vampires positioning themselves around their group. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up.

"Florence, 1932," Skinner responded. Spike cocked his head, frowning. "La Bella Bugia Opera House?" Skinner prompted.

Spike's eyes widened while Buffy felt an acute urge towards homicidal actions. "That was you?" Spike asked incredulously. He snorted. "Oh, that was a bloody brilliant work of art, that was."

Skinner bowed graciously.

"I don't want to know," Buffy mumbled irately. Spike twisted his head to look at her.

"The audience thought he was supposed to be there. For the first 20 seconds at least. This wanker," he jerked a thumb at Skinner, grinning widely, "strolling onto the set of La Buona Figliuola like he was part of the show."

"Until I ripped out the lead's small intestine," Skinner said.

"Dru went up and asked for it in place of her pearl necklace," Spike said. His expression transformed from wistful nostalgia to crushing sadness in the space of two seconds. Buffy blinked at the abrupt change. "She was fickle about her damn jewelry, I'll tell you," he said, sniffing and looking absolutely pitiful. "Used to wear these enormous, honking broaches all over the place. Once, I brought her a liver and she pinned it to her chest for a week and a half."

There were several moments of awkward, uncertain silence as everyone wondered how exactly to respond. "That's fucked up," one of Skinner's vampires said eventually. Skinner growled at him.

"Seems like you're having woman trouble," Skinner said, turning his attention back. "It's going around. You and the Slayer should start a club, bond over shitty girlfriends."

Spike raised his chin, jutting his jaw forward. "It's temporary. She'll be crawling back once I -" he stopped abruptly, fully registering what the other vampire had just said. His face scrunched up in disbelief. "Wait, what? The Slayer has a who now?"

"Oh, she's a pistol, Willy. Hits like she was born for it. Hot little thing, too," Skinner continued, leering at Buffy. Buffy felt a hot drop of fury slip into her stomach. Her hands were shaking.

Spike whipped around to stare at Buffy. "You picked yourself up a woman?" He shook his head violently, looking disgusted. "This is just sodding fantastic. Drusilla drops me like yesterday's homeless man and here you are, frolicking in carpet-munching land." He sighed, his face falling. "You should've just staked me."

Buffy stepped forward and pulled out her stake, gripping it so hard she felt it crack. "Get in line," she spat out, eyes flicking between Skinner and Spike.

Angel moved quickly in front of her, frowning sternly. "Buffy," he said quietly. He shook his head in a slow, communicative gesture.

Buffy slowly lowered the stake, feeling undiluted rage still coursing through her. Spike's attention slid over to Angel and a wicked grin began blossoming on his face.

"But he's still here." He cocked his head, still grinning. "Did he finally decide to embrace his inner poofter like you did, Slayer? Bag himself a proper boyfriend?"

"Spike," Buffy said, dangerously quiet. "Find a different topic."

"I second that," Skinner contributed casually, strolling forward until he was a foot away from Buffy. He smiled at her. "How about we focus on your imminent deaths?"

"I could work with that," Buffy said sweetly, and kicked Skinner in the chest.

Angel and Spike followed her lead, Angel backhanding a vamp to his right and Spike wildly catapulting himself into a group of four snarling vampires. Buffy acknowledged that they were seriously outnumbered, and she could feel that unnerving sensation of being hemmed in as several more vampires circled her. She forced herself to focus only on her immediate surroundings, avoiding a brutal right hook from Skinner and executing a spinning kick to one of them behind her. She ducked into the Espresso Pump, breaking a leg off one of the chairs and plunging it into the vampire nearest to her, who was unfortunately not Skinner. After minutes of furious fighting, Angel, Buffy and Spike began instinctively moving towards the Magic Shop, searching for a more defendable position. The remaining vampires circled them, growling and smiling in anticipation.

"Why do I feel like we're losing?" Buffy muttered, flicking her eyes around for possible escapes.

"Because there are 12 of them and three of us and we're about to die," Angel answered, panting slightly.

"Oh," Buffy mumbled. "Right."

They turned as one, busted open the Magic Shop door and piled inside as the other vampires swarmed. Buffy and Angel put their backs to the door and planted their feet, grimacing as it shuddered. Spike strode quickly around the shop, his leather coat swirling around him as he searched for weapons. He flipped over the table, breaking off the legs and tossing them over to Buffy and Angel.

"Uh, Spike? Need something a little heftier," Buffy gasped out.

"That door's gonna go, love," Spike responded, eyeing it warily. "Best let it happen and enjoy the violence."

Buffy glared at him, but she and Angel stepped back, gripping stakes. "Have I recently mentioned what a psychopathic prick you are?" Buffy ground out. Spike grinned.

The door shuddered once more and then collapsed completely. Two vampires stampeded through, the others trying to slip through the entrance and getting jammed. There was a furious crash and the window at the front of the shop broke. Vampires poured through. Buffy realized it was distinctly possible that they might die. She grabbed the first vampire she could and threw him up against the bookshelf, slamming a stake into him. She was grabbed around the middle and tossed into one of the glass cases, protecting her face with her arms and feeling them sliced open. Buffy vaulted up, ignoring the small rivulets of blood cascading down her arm and kicking one of them in the kneecap. He went down with a cry and she spun around, smashing the back of her foot into his head. He went flying.

Buffy looked around wildly at the fight. She saw Skinner leaning nonchalantly against the window frame, surveying the fight confidently. Buffy suddenly realized that there were much fewer vampires than she had thought. She leaned her head forward as she picked up sounds of struggling outside of the store. There was a cry, a grunt, and a figure strode through the front door, wielding a stake.

"Faith?" she said disbelievingly.

The figure froze. And then Buffy went crashing to the ground as a vampire backhanded her. Faith moved quickly, pulling him off of Buffy and elbowing him in the face. Buffy stared at her incredulously, feeling a multitude of feelings at seeing her again. Guilt, relief, and simultaneous urges to touch her and (with a hot burst of shame) recoil. She continued to watch her and realized that there was something ... different about the way she was fighting. It looked almost wrong. Her movements were too controlled, too restrained. None of the fluid violence that Buffy was accustomed to. She caught a glimpse of Faith and the other Slayer's face was contorted in revulsion. It was more than holding back — it was painfully obvious repugnance at what she was doing.

Faith's presence tipped the odds in their favor quickly. Buffy saw Skinner growl in frustration, take a quick sweeping glance of the situation, saw he was losing, and spun around and ran.

"Gutless weasel," Spike sneered, watching the other vampire scamper.

Angel let loose with a right hook to the face of the last vampire and he stumbled towards Faith's outstretched stake. There was a long, pregnant silence as the four of them stood after the vamp exploded into dust, breathing heavily. Buffy was alternating between glances at Faith and looking intently at the floor. She chanced a fleeting look at Spike and saw him flicking his eyes around the group, a horribly and ominously nefarious smile beginning to form.

"So," Spike said, his voice sounding unusually loud. "You must be the Slayer's brush with lesbianism."

Faith looked at him, her face taut and smooth. She didn't say anything, but glanced warily at Angel and he nodded at her. His eyes were soft and reassuring.

"Faith," he said.

"Angel," she responded. And then, without another word or glance, she turned around and strode quickly out of the shop.

"But — wha — goddamit, Faith," Buffy sputtered. "Wait!" she said loudly, and ran after her. She caught up to her easily down the street, stopping several feet away. "Faith," she called out.

Faith stopped. Buffy saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath. The other Slayer turned around slowly, her expression an unreadable mask. The light from the streetlamps illuminated her for the first time and Buffy felt a sick twisting in her stomach. Faith's face was pale and strained, her normally soft lines jagged and sharp. She looked like she hadn't eaten or slept in days, dark circles framing her eyes. And her eyes ... there was no spark in them, no bright glinting they usually held after a fight. She wasn't looking directly at Buffy, gaze pointed towards the ground.

Buffy swallowed. "How, uh, how are you?" she asked softly.

"Five by five," Faith responded. Buffy raised an eyebrow at the complete lack of help in that statement, frowning. Faith inhaled, turned her head. "Been better."

"How did you know we were here?" Buffy asked, searching for topics.

"Didn't," Faith answered shortly. "I was out walking and felt vamps."

"Oh," Buffy said in a quiet voice. They stood there in an awkward, painfully tense silence, until Buffy took the metaphorical plunge.

"Faith, I want you to know that I ... I'm not going to push, okay?" she said softly, placatingly, and very slowly took a step forward. "I just need you to know that I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I — I'll give you whatever time you need."

Faith closed her eyes. "Yeah ... okay," she said hoarsely. She exhaled shakily and opened her eyes again, meeting Buffy's for a split second before turning around and walking away.

"I love you," Buffy called out faintly. Faith stopped, her back still facing Buffy. "I won't stop. Not ever."

There was a moment of silence as Faith stayed frozen. Buffy wished she could see her face. After a couple of seconds, Faith started moving again. Buffy could see, even through the distance, the tension in her shoulders. She watched her round the corner of the street and sighed as she disappeared. This was what she had to do. Wait. Be mature. Give Faith the time she needed. She wanted to run after her, wrap her arms around her, and tell her everything was going to be okay. But they both knew it wasn't. Not now.

Buffy walked slowly back into the shop, a heavy, sinking feeling in her stomach. She vaguely acknowledged the cuts on her arms had stopped dripping. She walked into the store, glass and various destroyed furniture crunching under her feet, and immediately saw Spike on the floor. He was sitting up on one elbow, wiping blood from his lip with the other hand and sneering. Angel was standing over him, shoulders moving with unnecessary breath, looking at him with naked fury in his eyes. Buffy froze uncertainly.

"Um," Buffy said.

Angel snapped his head up to look at her. Buffy glanced at Spike briefly. "Do I want to know?" she asked.

"Nothin' to worry about, love," Spike said, standing up and keeping his contemptuous, angry gaze on the other vampire. "Just having a little manly heart-to-heart."

"Shut up," Angel snarled. He looked livid.

"Interesting suggestion, but ... no," Spike said, accompanied by a smirk and small tilt of his head. He slid his eyes to Buffy. "So, tell me, pet. How's this love triangle working out for you?"

Buffy looked at Angel before she could help herself. He had twisted his head around, looking at the ground. She didn't answer, her stomach curling unpleasantly.

Spike chuckled darkly. "Oh, this is rich. One mentally unstable, supernatural honey wasn't enough for you, huh, Slayer? Had to string a couple of them along?" He brought his fingers to his lip, wiping away the blood and examining it before shooting Buffy a twisted grin. "Prancin' through your sexual experiment without a care in the bloody world, while the Shagless Wonder over here," he waved a hand at Angel, "follows you around like some dog begging for table scraps. It'd be funny if it wasn't so pitiful." Spike cocked his head, looking thoughtful. "On second thought, scratch that. It's hilarious."

"That's not what this is," Buffy said tightly. She flicked her eyes to Angel again, almost scared to see his expression. He was still looking away from her, his face drawn and stiff, jaw muscles working. "He's here to help. As a friend."

Spike laughed shortly and mirthlessly. "That the pretty lie you tell yourself?" he asked sardonically, and then sneered. "Angel's not your friend, sweetcheeks. He never will be." He pointed at the other vampire, smile gone, his eyes bright and sharp. "He'll be in love with you 'till he's a couple of specks in a dustpan. You think he can shut that off for the sake of kittens and rainbows? You think his moronic, useless sense of nobility even comes close to that? What you're doing here," he gestured around him emphatically, his voice breaking, "is ripping him open, pulling out his guts and shoving them in his face. You may have moved on to the next trollop, but everything in him is stuck here with you. I hate that bastard more than I will ever hate anyone in my entire unlife and I'm not even enjoying this as much as I should be."

Buffy was staring at him helplessly through his speech, feeling something thick rise up in her throat.

"You know what?" Spike continued, expression scrunched up like he was thinking hard. "Seeing how he's let himself go, it's put things in perspective for me. Dru wants me like I was — not like some pitiful, sobbing eunuch. If I want her back, I'll have to do it myself. I'll find her, torture her, and make her love me again." He smiled happily.

Buffy swallowed. "My friends?" she asked weakly.

"Oh, right." Spike frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. "Where did I stash them again?" he muttered.

"You lost Xander and Willow?" Buffy snapped.

"Misplaced. Temporarily." Spike said, waving a hand distractedly. "I was completely hammered, Slayer. Things get a little fuzzy." He brightened suddenly. "Right. They're at the factory. Or they're not." Buffy growled at him menacingly. "Factory," he said again, nodding. "90 percent sure they're at the factory."

Buffy glowered at him. Spike tipped his head to her sardonically, nodded at Angel, and strode out the door. He stopped in the entrance, turning to look at them.

"Hope you two crazy lovebirds make it work," he said cheerfully, pointing at them. "And, hey, if things get too complicated, you could always try a threesome." And he was gone.

Buffy stood there, feeling the tension in the room billow around them like heat. She couldn't look at Angel.

"I ... I'm, uh, gonna call Oz and Cordy. Get them to drive over to the factory," she said finally, shakily.

"Yeah," Angel said quietly. His voice was carefully even. "Good idea."

Buffy walked towards the entrance, trying to avoid the larger pieces of glass. She turned back to look at Angel when she reached the doorframe, and saw him looking at her intently, his eyes hooded and shadowed. She felt an overwhelming urge to touch him, to tell him she still loved him and always would, but knew that wouldn't accomplish or change anything. She walked out to the phone booth across the street.

Chapter 30: Entropy

Author's Notes: Once again, thanks to everyone for all the positive feedback and encouragement. We're actually in the last six chapters of this story, so we're nearing the end. Hope you all enjoy the ride.

All systems tend towards entropy. Buffy thought she had read that once. Or maybe it was in one of Giles' pedantic lectures that he dished out on a regular basis. The point being: things fall apart. And, in her case, things fell apart at exactly the same time. Angel, Faith, the Mayor, even the relationships between her friends were dissolving into unpleasant chaos. Reliable, solid points of her existence were drifting away, disintegrating into uncertainty.

There were times where Buffy felt like she was floundering helplessly, not sure where she was going or how she was getting there. At least with the situation with the Mayor, she knew where she stood. They were drawing towards an inexorable fight, towards a corporeal foe that she could throw satisfyingly solid punches at. Even if she lost against him, she knew who she was fighting and what she was fighting for. Things like that didn't exist with Faith and Angel. She didn't have a battle plan, didn't have any precedents or directions or things to hit. Instead, she had guilt, shame, and a pervasive sense of disorientation. She wanted to go comfort Faith, she wanted to go comfort Angel, she wanted a world where they could all live happily ever after in some glorious, semi-platonic triumvirate.

Instead, she went on with her life. She went to school, researched an apparently un-researchable topic, and tried not to think of Faith and Angel's faces full of crippling sadness. And she talked to her friends.

"So, no chance of passing it off as some ill-timed awkward positioning?" Buffy asked.

"Well, that's an interesting possibility. Let me think about ... no. Absolutely not," Xander responded.

"I think our expressions of crushing guilt pretty much sealed the deal," Willow contributed, looking at her hands sadly.

They were at the library. A couple of days had passed since the Spike debacle. Angel and Faith had been conspicuously absent, and Buffy hadn't sought them out. At least there was plenty of sordid school drama to distract her from the gaping holes in her chest. Buffy, Xander, and Willow sat around the table, ancient books, pamphlets, and journals spread in front of them. At the moment, they were ignoring the research materials, discussing the illicit romantic activity that had transpired between Willow and Xander while they were being held hostage.

"How long have you guys been ... positioning?" Buffy asked hesitantly.

"What? No! There were no positions!" Xander said frantically, and then put his hands out and tried to gesture calmly. "We're just two friends who occasionally engaged in some less than monogamous behavior. Without any positions. Of any kind."

Willow glared at him exasperatedly and then turned to Buffy. "It's not like we were having this massive affair. It was just a — a series of mini-flukes."

Xander nodded vigorously. "Flukes. Yes." He glanced at the clock on the library wall and sighed. "Do you think Mr. Huston would take the excuse that I couldn't study because I was busy leaving mass quantities of messages on Cordy's phone?"

"Is the class called 'Methodology of Not Being A Sucky Boyfriend'?" Buffy asked.

"Chemistry."

"Then no."

Xander groaned. He shot one last, desperate glance at Buffy, grabbed his bag and walked out of the library. As the doors swung shut, Buffy looked at Willow sympathetically, brow furrowed.

"How are you doing?" Buffy asked.

Willow sighed, shaking her head. "I — I don't know, Buffy. I didn't know I was capable of feeling this much awfulness." She leaned forward, cupping her face with her hands. "I didn't know how fast things could just ... collapse."

Buffy leaned over and put her hand on Willow's back, rubbing gently. "I know. Trust me, I know. But, it doesn't mean they can't be built back up. It just takes time."

"How — how can I ever make things right with Oz again?" Willow asked anxiously. "When I think about how I hurt him ... it's like there's this huge, sucking black hole in the middle of my chest," she said vehemently, motioning emphatically at her own torso. "And — and I feel like there's this clock ticking away all of the moments that I could be talking to him and stop him from hurting."

Buffy shook her head and saw Faith's jagged face behind her eyes. "It's out of your hands now, Wil," she said softly. "You just have to — to understand that he needs time for himself. He has to figure out what's going on, and how he feels about you and how this affects your relationship, and what being taken over by evil incarnate means for his self-identity, and ..." she stopped, realizing the path her sentence had invariably taken.

"I have this sneaking suspicion that you're talking about someone else," Willow said, smiling gently.

Buffy sighed, grinning sheepishly. "What can I say? I like a little less 'sub' in my sub-text."

"Buffy," Willow started to say, and then stopped, looking as if she was searching for words. "Maybe ... maybe Faith needs you to let her go," she said tentatively, watching Buffy's face for a reaction. "What — what if she can't come back from this?"

Buffy swallowed. "Maybe she can't," she answered quietly. "But I'm not giving up that quickly." She met Willow's sad gaze. "Could you walk away from Oz that easily?"

Willow shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I couldn't."

The two girls sat in a thick, contemplative silence for several minutes. Buffy was staring at the wooden table like it would miraculously produce a solution for her problems.

"I know it feels hopeless now," Buffy said slowly. "For both of us. But it won't forever. Things will get better." She paused. "And then they'll suck again."

Willow smiled unconvincingly. "Such is the beautiful cycle of life."

There was another moment of dejected silence before Buffy leaned forward, her face brightening. "You know what we need?" she asked, suddenly sounding more energetic.

"Prozac?"

"Shopping," Buffy said resolutely. "We need bags and bags of pointless clothing."

Willow straightened up. "And mochas?" she asked hopefully.

Buffy nodded firmly. "Definitely mochas."

~ — ~ — ~

Three hours later the two girls were walking downtown, sipping happily from their mint-chocolate, sugar-saturated beverages, plastic cups in one hand and an ever-growing stash of shopping bags in the other. The sun had just set, the sky glowing with the soft light under the horizon. Streaks of gold and russet orange played across the clouds. Buffy felt this strange prickling sensation in her chest and realized it was mild happiness. Being with Willow made it easier to submerge all of her emotional baggage under clothing concerns and inane conversation. It felt good to be just a girl, shopping with her best friend.

"I'm serious, Wil," Buffy said earnestly. "Every girl needs a skirt that allows for maximum kickage while also saying, 'I'm classy but not pretentious.'"

"Right. Because every girl has found herself in a situation where being able to kick someone in the face trumps fashion," Willow said sarcastically, grinning.

Buffy gave her a look. "And by 'every girl,' I of course mean 'me.' Haven't you learned not to take my generalizations seriously?"

"If I haven't by now, I should probably be questioning my intelligence," Willow said cheerfully.

"And I'm not even gonna touch dresses and acrobatic jumping. Speaking of," Buffy said, her smiling growing wider, "there's this new dress store on Hibiscus. We so need to check it out."

Willow finished her mocha with a satisfied slurp and motioned with difficulty, movement restricted due to the 13 packages in her arms. "You go ahead. I wanted to stop by the bookstore."

"You sure?" Buffy asked, frowning.

"Yeah, totally. Nora Roberts waits for no woman." Buffy's eyebrows shot up in concern. Willow held her hands up, backtracking. "Joke. Bad, not funny joke." She started walking away, turning to face Buffy. "I'll meet you at the dress store in a few."

"Kay," Buffy said. She started walking towards Hibiscus Street, belatedly realizing that the conquests from her shopping expeditions were slipping out of her hand. One of her bags fell on the ground, spilling its contents of jeans and bracelets.

"Dammit," Buffy cursed, kneeling down and picking up her clothes. "Shouldn't juggling shopping bags be part of my Slayer repertoire?" she muttered. She heard footsteps close by and a hand was suddenly in her vision, holding out a pair of jeans. "Thanks," she said gratefully, looking up, and froze.

Angel gazed back at her, his face expressionless. "Hey," he said.

"Angel," she said, mildly shocked. Her heart was thumping unevenly. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

He helped her finish putting the clothes back and they both stood awkwardly. "I — I was actually tracking down a car ad someone placed in the newspaper."

Buffy stared at him. "You need a car for what exactly now? The five-minute walk to the butcher's?"

Angel looked at the ground. "L.A.," he answered quietly.

Buffy felt like a block of ice had just slipped into her stomach. "L.A.," she repeated, just as softly.

"I ... I'm leaving. Now."

Buffy swallowed. "Now as in now?"

"As in tomorrow," he said, finally meeting her eyes.

She stared at him helplessly. "But — why now? The Ascension is just ..." she trailed off. Angel didn't say anything. "Is — is it because of what Spike said? Because, you know, he's evil. Not really a solid source of advice."

"Spike was right," Angel said quietly, and then frowned, looking troubled. "Now there's a sentence that should never, ever come out my mouth again."

"Right about what?" Buffy asked slowly, hesitantly, not really wanting to know the answer.

Angel closed his eyes while Buffy waited anxiously. He sighed and opened them, fixing Buffy's gaze. "Every time I see you, it tears me up. Every time I see you with her ... it feels like a part of me just collapses." His voice shook, deep pain flashing across his face before he suppressed it again. "I — I know it's selfish. I know you need me, but I ... I can't stay." He swallowed, turning his head away.

Buffy felt a thick lump in her throat form, felt the prickles of tears at the corners of her eyes. "Angel ... I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think — I didn't realize how hard it was for you."

"It's not your fault," he said quietly. "You have more important things to worry about than me. Which is part of why I'm leaving. I can't be a liability to you."

Buffy shook her head violently. "No, Angel, you could never be a liability," she said vehemently, sounding disgusted at the last word. "You ... I still -"

There was a sharp whizzing sound, a sickening thump, and an arrow was suddenly pushing its way through Angel's chest. Buffy stopped talking, her mouth opening in shock. Angel gasped, staring down at it uncomprehendingly before his knees buckled.

"Angel!" Buffy cried, catching him before he hit the ground, feeling a surge of terrified adrenaline. She lowered him down, her eyes moving frantically over his chest. He was panting shallowly, his eyes wild and fluttering. But ... he was still alive, which meant the arrow had missed his heart.

Buffy looked around the small crowd of people that had gathered and saw Willow running towards them, red hair and shopping bags billowing around her. She squeezed through the group of people and kneeled down next to Angel, who was groaning softly.

"We have to get him to the library," Willow said breathlessly. Buffy nodded. They each grasped Angel around the middle and hauled him up.

~ — ~ — ~

"In the middle of downtown?" Giles asked, frowning.

"In the middle of the street. People around and everything," Buffy answered grimly.

Giles examined the bloody arrow they had just wrenched out of Angel's chest. "It seems the Mayor is no longer terribly concerned with secrecy."

"You think?" Buffy asked irately. She put her hand on Angel's blessedly solid shoulder. He turned his head slightly from his sitting position, one palm still pressing on the slightly bloody wound just underneath his collarbone.

"Did you see the shooter?" Giles asked, ignoring Buffy's sarcasm.

Buffy shook her head. "He could have been hiding anywhere. I just got us out of there as fast as possible." She frowned. "But I'm going to take a wildly logical leap and say it was Skinner. I don't think the Mayor would put anyone else on the job."

Giles nodded, looking thoughtful, as Angel began to stand up shakily. Buffy put her hands under his armpits, steadying him. "I'm just glad he can't aim for — whoa," she said anxiously as Angel stumbled again, grabbing him.

Angel looked down and then up at Buffy again. "Crap," he said, and then collapsed completely.

"Angel!" Buffy said loudly, kneeling down next to his supine figure. His face was contorted in pain, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Giles and Willow moved quickly over to them as well, looking down.

"What is it?" Willow asked fearfully. "Have you lost too much blood?" Her face scrunched up as she backed up slightly. "Do — do you need more?"

"Poison," Angel gasped out. "I can feel it spreading."

Buffy grasped his shoulders and pulled him up to sitting position. He grit his teeth, groaning. She put a hand on his cheek.

"He's burning up," she said anxiously, turning to look at Giles.

Giles held up the arrow he had been examining earlier, looking at it with renewed interest and wariness. "We'll have to start researching -"

"Researching what?" Xander asked, strolling into the library jauntily. He stopped as he saw the frightened, downcast expressions on everyone's faces. "Oh, God. Who's dying now?"

Buffy actually growled at him. Giles just frowned severely. Willow walked up to him, grasping his arm and shaking her head. "You just say the best things sometimes," she muttered, pulling him over to the library table.

Chapter 31: Taking Off the Kid Gloves

Author's Notes:

"Oh!" Willow said excitedly, pointing at the book she was reading. "Here it is! 'Bane of the ...' Oh," she said again, her face falling. "Never mind. It's 'Bane of the Grateful Dead.'" She frowned, turning back to the book. "Why would they make a poison just for Jerry Garcia?" she muttered unhappily.

"Those wacky demons," Xander said, smiling sarcastically. "Making sure there's something for everyone. They just take generosity to a whole new level."

They had been researching for several fruitless hours, looking for mention of a poison specifically designed for vampires. Angel was in Giles' office, languishing in a make-shift cot with the blinds shut firmly around him. Agonized moans and rustles occasionally escaped through the closed door, reminding the group of the painful urgency of the situation.

They had been in the library all night and the sun was just beginning to rise, soft, yellow light seeping through the windows. Buffy was feeling the beginnings of a full-blown panicking. She hated to feel this helpless. Ironic how it happened to her so often. She knew insanity would descend if she didn't move or do something soon. Her fingers were instinctually clenching into fists, nails rhythmically digging into her palms every time Angel groaned.

"Ah," Giles breathed, his brow furrowed as his eyes slid furiously over the page in front of him. "Yes. Here," he said, pointing at the passage and looking up. "It discusses the 'zudikas negyvas.' Roughly translates into -"

"'Killer of the Dead,'" a voice said from the front of the library. All heads snapped around to see Wesley standing in front of the swinging doors. "Poison invented by Lithuanian warlocks for vampires, I believe."

There was a moment of tense, disbelieving silence. "Wesley," Buffy said slowly, eventually. She stood up, looking at him suspiciously. "Did you get lost on your way to England?"

"No," Wesley said firmly, raising his chin proudly. "I chose to stay."

Buffy raised an eyebrow skeptically, crossing her arms. Wesley slumped a fraction of an inch. "The Council fired me," he said quietly. Buffy rolled her eyes while Giles snorted. "But," Wesley said loudly, pointing a finger up in his defense, "I still chose to stay. I want to help."

Buffy eyed him circumspectly for several seconds. He flinched a little under her gaze. "Okay," she said finally, shrugging.

"Okay?" Wesley repeated uncertainly.

Buffy nodded, sitting down. "Who am I to deny a source of information in dire times like these? Even if said source is an insufferable lame-ass."

"Excellent point," Wesley said happily, striding forward.

"So, you know about this poison?" Buffy asked, looking at him hopefully.

"Yes," he responded, frowning. "Lithuanian toxin designed to kill vampires. Horribly painful, if I recall correctly." Buffy flinched involuntarily. "Is this part of our plan to defeat the Mayor?" Wesley asked tentatively. "If you don't mind me saying, it seems a tad inefficient," he continued, allowing a measure of his repressed smugness to reassert itself.

"Angel," Buffy said shortly, her mouth tightening. "He was hit with a poisoned arrow."

Wesley's eyes widened. "Oh," he said quietly, guiltily.

"Do you know anything else about it?" Buffy continued, louder as she looked intently at Wesley. "Anything about curing it?"

"No," he said, shaking his head helplessly. "I — I do know that it's a rapidly-acting toxin. It takes a little over a day to ... but, that's all I can tell you. I'm sorry," he said, truly sounding like it.

Buffy turned to Giles. He met her slightly desperate gaze and shook his head once, sadly. "There's nothing useful in here," he said softly. Buffy felt that panicked urgency rise in her stomach.

"Why shoot Angel?" Willow asked suddenly, face twisted in confusion. "He was leaving. He was out of the fight."

Buffy frowned, thinking fast. "The Mayor didn't know that. But he knew how important Angel is to — to me. He was trying to create a distraction, throw us off."

"Or maybe he's just not holding back anymore," Xander said, looking more serious than Buffy had seen him in a long time. "No more tiptoeing around who he wants to kill. He's taking off the kid gloves."

"Maybe it's time we do the same," Buffy said abruptly. She stood up, feeling a rush of adrenaline-fueled resolution. She was tired of sitting around. She was tired of being jerked around by things she had no control over. She was going to do what she was good at. Giles looked at her sharply. "We need to take the initiative right now. Researching isn't getting us off the ground, and we're running out of runway."

"What are you proposing?" Giles asked, watching her carefully.

"We need information. And we need to get it from an inside man."

"We're gonna kidnap someone?" Xander asked, sounding eager and much more like his juvenile self. "Can I help with the making him talk? My persuading skills are legendary."

Buffy gave him a look. Xander's excited grin faltered slightly. "Yes, we're gonna kidnap someone. I'm going to find one of the Mayor's employees, drag him back here, and ask him what he knows." She narrowed her eyes threateningly. "Politely."

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy, Giles and Willow padded down the carpeted hallway of City Hall. Buffy stretched her senses to their fullest extent, letting the sounds, sights, and prickling vampire sensations wash over her. Vamps were all around the building, keeping watch, playing cards, or just chatting next to the water cooler.

They had snuck in through the back door in the light of early dawn, using the same lock Faith had picked. She remembered the last time she was in here with the other Slayer, and felt a wrench of nostalgia. It felt so long ago, almost surreally. Pushing Faith to the back of her mind, as she'd had to do for the last week, Buffy concentrated on her surroundings. She could feel two of the vamps in a room to their left and she stopped, signaling to Giles and Willow. They stopped as well, Willow's eyes impossibly wide. Buffy held up three fingers, bending them as she mouthed counting down, and kicked open the door. Skinner and a female vampire, who had been laughing flirtatiously with him and running a hand along his arm, snapped their heads around as the door went flying off its hinges.

"Slayer," Skinner growled, crouching in attack position.

"Oh, I was so hoping it would be you," Buffy answered, grinning dangerously.

"This is the Slayer, boss?" the female vampire asked, smirking. "She don't look so tough -" she stopped talking, eyes widening in shock as a stake buried itself in her chest.

"Well, it's not me you have to worry about," Buffy said cheerfully, grinning as the vampire dissolved with a gasp and Willow stepped forward, eyes dark and flashing. There was another stake floating ominously by her head, pointed straight at Skinner. The vampire snarled, backing up as Giles stepped forward to the right of Buffy, gripping a broadsword and flanking her. Skinner's eyes slid frantically around the room, looking for an escape route.

"Sorry, honey. Forgot to mention we were having some friends over," Buffy said, and whipped out the tranquilizer gun she had behind her back. There was a pop, a whizzing noise, and Skinner stared down at the dart sticking out of his side for two seconds before keeling over unconscious, game face sliding off.

They stepped forward, looking down at Skinner's unmoving form.

"That went swimmingly," Willow said happily.

"Kinda did, didn't it? Let's get his undead ass back to the library before we start doing the celebratory backstroke, though," Buffy said, kneeling down to grasp his legs.

~ — ~ — ~

They plopped Skinner's unconscious figure down on one of the library chairs, tying him down. Ropes went around his wrists and the chair arms, his shins and the chair legs, effectively immobilizing him. His head was lolling as Buffy worked quickly, the others standing around him warily. She finished pulling the last knot tight and stood up, peering at him.

"How are you gonna wake -" Xander started.

Buffy slapped Skinner as hard as she possibly could.

"Oh," Xander finished, eyebrows raised.

Skinner's head rolled limply with the motion of Buffy's hand. She slapped him again and Skinner grunted, his eyes fluttering. He jerked awake suddenly, neck twisting around, the chair creaking with his violent movements.

"What ..." he said, and coughed. He coughed again, swallowed, and looked around him, eyes narrowing as he absorbed his surroundings. "Well, look at that."

"We really should stop running into each other like this," Buffy said sweetly, standing in front of him, hands on her hips.

Skinner leered at her, not looking at all uncomfortable with the present seating arrangements. "Seems like you're the driving force behind this one, girly." He cocked his head. "How's your boyfriend?"

"First of all, 'ex,' Buffy responded tightly. "Second, he's going to be fine."

"Is he," Skinner said skeptically. "You found the cure, did you?"

"Not yet," Buffy said nonchalantly, shrugging. "But, I figure once you see us playing hacky sack with one of your kidneys, you might get a little talkative."

Skinner smiled unpleasantly, shifting a little in his chair to get comfortable. "Works in theory."

Buffy scrutinized him with narrowed eyes for a moment before she turned around to the rest of the group. "Xander, Willow, Wes, you guys keep researching. Maybe we'll find it in the books and we won't have to resort to disembowelment."

"What — what are you going to do, Buffy?" Willow asked in a small voice, eyes flicking to Skinner.

"Me and Giles are going to have a little chat with Ashley here," Buffy said grimly, and then turned to Giles. "Help me move him to the back of the stacks?"

Giles nodded, looking at Skinner with a tight, ominous smile that made the vampire recoil a little. Giles grasped one of the corners of the chair with Buffy and they dragged him up the library stairs, making sure to do it as slowly and painfully as possible. Skinner struggled as they moved him, wriggling in his restraints and growling.

They slid him behind one of the bookshelves and Buffy bent down to tighten his ropes. She and Giles both backed up, standing in front of Skinner and looking down at him like he was an art project. The vampire stopped struggling and looked coolly back up at them, the ghost of a smirk playing on his features.

"You gonna torture me now?" he asked casually. "That it?"

"We're considering all options," Buffy responded, and punched him in the face.

His head was thrown to the side with the force of her hit. He chuckled darkly, licking the blood off his lip and turning back to stare, unruffled, at Buffy.

"Boss said the poison was like having your entire body set on fire," he said, eyes never leaving Buffy's face.

Buffy clenched her jaw and fists, her stomach curling with anger. "How do you cure him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"Like being torn open from the inside out," Skinner continued as if Buffy hadn't spoken. "'Till he dissolves into a pile of ashes, that is."

Buffy threw out her left fist, colliding with his jaw. There was a deep, hot rage bubbling up inside her. "What's the cure?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Skinner took the hit, smiling. "You think I'm gonna tell you anything he doesn't want you to hear?" He shook his head. "Poor, naОve little girl."

Buffy backhanded him viciously and his head snapped back into the chair. She stepped forward, leaning down to just inches away from his face, and glared at him, eyes burning.

"You know what?" she asked, her breath coming shallower. "I'm getting a little sick of people calling me that. Seems like everyone thinks they know me better than I do."

"Maybe they do," Skinner responded, his eyes glinting, his mouth curled in a tight, malevolent smirk.

Buffy cocked her fist back to hit him again and Giles put a hand on her shoulder. She twisted her head sharply to look at him.

"Buffy," he said quietly, and led her behind one of the bookshelves, outside of Skinner's vision. "You need to back off from this. You're too close."

Buffy tried to take a deep, calming breath and failed miserably. "I know," she said, irritated at her own loss of self-control. "I — I just ... I need to hit something."

Giles grasped her shoulders, peering into her eyes. "Save it for the fight. Hang back for now."

Buffy nodded, still feeling her muscles trembling. Giles walked back to Skinner and Buffy followed him, a couple of feet back. Skinner was smiling meaningfully at her, as if he knew exactly how helpless and furious she was feeling.

Giles walked to stand in front of the bound vampire and Skinner finally glanced up at him.

"Good cop?" he asked casually.

Giles punched him in the stomach. "Slightly less belligerent cop," he responded as Skinner doubled over, panting.

The vampire laughed breathlessly, head down. "Look at you glorious heroes," he managed to gasp out. "Beating up your defenseless hostage."

"You don't qualify as defenseless," Buffy sneered from several paces back.

Skinner lifted his head, smirking cockily. "And you don't exactly qualify as heroic, do you, sweetheart?" Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Doesn't matter anyway," Skinner continued. "Come Graduation day, all those pathetic self-identity issues will be swallowed up by larger things." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Literally."

Giles and Buffy exchanged a sharp glance. "Graduation day?" Giles repeated. "That's when he -"

"Ascends?" Skinner finished, running his tongue along his upper teeth in anticipation. Buffy felt a little like throwing up. "You can't imagine how long he's waited for this."

Buffy stepped forward, coming up besides Giles. She was frowning. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Like I said, it doesn't matter now. You can't stop it. He's got this town wrapped around his little, freakishly clean finger." He was grinning widely now, his eyes glinting. "The Mayor will Ascend, and he'll tear through this town so fast you'll be dead before you hit the ground."

There was a moment of pregnant silence. Buffy swallowed, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenched with fear. Graduation was only two days away. "Never figured you for the blindly obedient underling," she said, attempting to inject a measure of contemptuous scorn into her voice.

Skinner laughed loudly, brazenly. "I'm not obedient to the Mayor, cupcake. I serve an ideal. He's just the fastest way to get there."

Buffy and Giles exchanged another look. "What happens during the Ascension?" Giles asked quietly.

"He moves to a higher plane," Skinner said, his eyes shining with zealous anticipation. "He becomes the pure embodiment of the demon Olvikan."

"And then?" Buffy asked quietly.

"Then he eats this town and shits it back out."

Chapter 32: Sacrifice

Author's Notes: I'm actually pretty excited for this chapter. Is that weird, being excited for your own story? Aaaaanyways, let me know what you guys think of it.

Buffy sat staring uncomprehendingly at the book in front of her. Her mind was whirling, her stomach roiling. Things were happening so fast. She had just been to see Angel, and his condition was rapidly worsening. He was shivering and pale, burning up and close to delirious. Different languages peppered his ramblings, Buffy catching snatches of French and something that may have been Romanian. He held Buffy's hand like he was drowning, and she dabbed his brow with a damp, warm washcloth. Angel winced every time she touched him, and it ripped through her.

There was a thick obstruction in her throat, but she felt like she couldn't cry. She couldn't do anything except look through this utterly useless book in front of her. They had been searching for any mention of some zudikas negyvas but coming up completely empty. The Mayor had been aiming for obscurity with his poison, and he had apparently succeeded. Angel was going to die before they could even find out if an antidote existed.

Accompanying all of her thoughts about Angel were visions of Sunnydale as a lifeless pile of rubble. Her friends, her mom, her lovers as charred bodies, while the Mayor ripped through her town. And she didn't know what to do about either. God, she wanted Faith to be here. Just to hold her, to take her hand and say that they could get through this together. Instead, Buffy laced her own fingers together and tried to absorb what was in front of her.

"So, Skinner didn't say anything about a cure?" Willow whispered next to her, and Buffy was pulled out of her dismal musings. She jerked her head up in surprise and Willow flinched a little.

"Sorry," Buffy said quietly, and then shook her head. "No, he didn't. He doesn't know or he's not telling us, but either way we're coming up empty."

"Maybe we should hit him some more," Willow said thoughtfully.

Buffy sighed, looking at the bound vampire. They had moved him downstairs into the cage and he was surveying all of them with a detached interest. "He's a tough one to break, Wil. Don't think he's giving anything else up."

She glanced out of the window anxiously, seeing the sharp streaks of afternoon light. The shadows were growing longer in the library and they were running out of time. Buffy swallowed.

"It'll be okay, Buffy," Willow said, watching her intently.

Buffy smiled weakly. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it will be."

Willow looked back at her, face twisted in sadness and compassion. She put her hand over Buffy's and squeezed gently. Buffy met her eyes and felt that lump in her throat grow, felt that prickling sensation under her eyelids. She abruptly let her hand slide out of Willow's grasp and stood up, shaking her head violently. She couldn't afford to let go now. Willow watched her, brow furrowed in understanding at her distancing.

"I'm gonna go see Angel," Buffy whispered, and Willow nodded.

Buffy slipped away, opening the office doors slowly and carefully, not letting any light in. The room was dark and warm, lit by a single lamp on Giles' desk. Angel was on the floor, wrapped in blankets. His body and face were pale and slick with sweat, the blankets twisted around his bare chest as he thrashed weakly. She stepped closer and saw his head shifting sporadically, his face contorted in anguish and pain. His eyes were moving wildly underneath his lids, his mouth slightly open and emitting soft groans. Buffy sat down on the floor next to him, crossing her legs and putting a hand out tentatively. She could feel the heat radiating off him. She went to touch him and stopped, withdrawing her hand sharply. Buffy watched him tenderly for several seconds before standing up and going out the door.

Buffy walked to the center of the library and cleared her throat. The others raised their heads from their researching, looking at her curiously.

"Would you guys mind leaving?" Buffy asked, intensely grateful for how steady her voice sounded. "I think ... I'd like to be alone with him."

They exchanged understanding glances, Willow standing up and walking over to her. "Of course, Buffy," she said softly, and put her arms around her. Buffy hugged her back, melting into the embrace.

Giles, Wesley and Xander stood up too. They stretched and filed past her, giving her soft, compassionate looks. Giles put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, smiling sadly at her.

"I have some more books at home," he said quietly. "It's not over, Buffy."

Buffy nodded at him, feeling the complete opposite in her gut. And suddenly she was alone. The library was silent and looming, dust floating in the air. There was no one else. Except, of course, for Skinner, who was smirking callously at her and who she was effectively ignoring. She didn't even glance at him as she went back inside the office, walking over to Angel and sitting down next to him. She touched his forehead softly, feeling it burning under her palm, and he clenched his jaw.

"Angel," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open, shifting around before focusing on her face. "Buffy?" he breathed.

She nodded, clasping his hand. "I'm here."

"It hurts," he said, flinching.

Buffy felt her heart shatter a little more. "It — it won't for much longer, okay?" she whispered jaggedly. There was a roaring sound in her head as she looked down at him, a chaotic storm in her stomach. She was going to have to watch him die. Again. She was going to have to sit helplessly while he dissolved in her hands. The tears came and she didn't stop them. She felt them roll down her cheeks, watched them as they dropped onto Angel's bare chest and evaporated when they hit the heat of his skin.

"I love you," he said, looking at her with bright, wavering eyes.

She cried harder, repressing a sob. "I love you too," she said unevenly. "I never stopped, okay? I never stopped and I never will."

He gently raised a hand and cupped her face, tracing her cheek with his thumb. "I know."

They gazed at each other, lost in the depths of each other's eyes. He was Angel, her first love. He would always be a part of her, always have a place in her heart and mind.

"I can't lose you," she breathed.

"Shh," he said, still cupping her face. "It's gonna be okay."

She opened her mouth to say something else and stopped as a sound filtered in from the library. Skinner was saying "Slayer," in a sing-song voice, repeating it over and over. Buffy looked out of the open door incredulously. She dropped Angel's hand softly, eyes sliding over his face again, and then stood up and walked quickly out of the office. The sun had almost completely set as Buffy strode over to the front of the cage, feeling that familiar expansion of rage as she looked at the bound vampire.

"Hey there, Slayer," Skinner said, grinning. "In the home stretch, are we?"

"Yeah, we are," Buffy snarled, and unlocked the cage and threw open the door violently. She whipped out her stake, advancing upon Skinner. "Have a nice trip to hell, Skinner."

"Whoa," he said loudly, flattening himself against the chair behind him. "Stake me now and you'll never hear how to cure your boy."

Buffy froze, eyes narrowing disbelievingly. "You don't know what the cure is."

"I know," he said firmly. His smile was gone, his face shadowed and serious.

"Why would you tell me now?" she snapped.

Skinner cocked his head, one of the corners of his mouth turning up. "Don't wanna miss the show."

Buffy frowned in confusion. "What are you babbling about?" she asked sharply.

"You," he said quietly. "You're the cure. Draining a Slayer is the only antidote."

Buffy stared at him as her brain actually slowed down, absorbing what he had said. His words were spinning in her mind. There was a peculiar feeling inside of her — a sharp surge of hope in her chest while her stomach plummeted simultaneously.

"I can't trust you," she whispered, her eyes focused on somewhere behind Skinner.

"It's the truth," he said quickly. "Check it out with tweed-boy."

Buffy glanced sharply at him one more time before running out of the cage, skidding to a stop in front of the phone on the counter and grasping it. She dialed Giles' number with shaking hands, hearing it ringing anxiously. Her skin was humming.

"Buffy?" Giles answered, his voice both afraid and eager.

"Giles," she said quickly. "The cure. Is it my blood?"

"Buffy, you -"

"Is it?" she interrupted loudly, sharply.

He sighed. She could almost hear him rubbing his eyes. "Yes."

She felt relief course through her. "Buffy, please, wait," Giles continued desperately. "I know how you feel about him, but please -"

She cut him off, placing the phone down on its cradle. Her hands were trembling. This was it. The only option. Angel wasn't going to die.

"What, oh, what is our heroine going to do?" Skinner said quietly. He was grinning in expectation, staring at Buffy through the cage bars.

Buffy walked over to the office door, gazing down at Angel's form on the floor. She took a deep breath and strode in, kneeling down next to him. She heard the scrape of a chair as Skinner attempted to reposition himself through throwing his weight, trying to see inside the office.

"Angel," she said loudly.

Angel's eyes opened and focused blearily on her. She grasped his shoulders, feeling the sweat and feverish heat of his skin, and pulled him up a little.

"You need to sit up, okay?" she said. He groaned, struggling to support himself. His shoulders and forearms were trembling as he pushed himself up. She helped move him over to the office wall, leaning him against it. Angel's face was contorted with pain and the effort of moving.

"What — what is it?" he gritted out.

"Angel, I want you to listen to me," she said slowly, her voice steady. "There is a cure. I'm going to save you, but you have to do what I tell you to." He looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. Buffy put her hands behind her head, pulling her hair to one side, and pushed down one of the straps of her tank top, baring her neck. "You have to drink," she said, enunciating every word.

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "Drink me," Buffy repeated, turning her head so that her neck was vulnerable to him.

Angel's eyes went wide, his mouth opening slightly. He stared at her in abject horror, shaking his head violently. "No, no, no," he said, his eyes huge and bright in the paleness of his face. "I can't. I won't."

"You don't have a choice," Buffy said vehemently. "This is the only way."

Angel jerked his head again, scrambling up. He pushed himself up from the ground, his entire body shaking. He stumbled out of the door, hands grabbing any stable object to support him. He staggered out to the table, leaning on it and gasping. Buffy followed him, putting hands on his back.

"We don't have time for this, Angel," she said heatedly.

"You can't ask me to do this," he grated out.

"I'm not asking," Buffy snapped. She hauled him up, holding his arms. "I'm not letting you die."

"It would kill you."

"I trust you to stop," she said quietly.

"No." His voice broke but his eyes were hard and unyielding. They were filled with a determined resolution. "I won't."

Buffy's face tightened. She clenched her jaw and let loose with a hard right hook. Angel's head snapped back with the force of it. He looked back at her, lost and uncertain. His eyes were having trouble focusing.

Buffy cocked her fist back for another punch and her wrist was suddenly stopped. She whipped her head around instinctively and froze.

"Faith," she breathed, staring at the other Slayer. Her body, still shaking from a combination of fear, adrenaline, and anger, was subjected to another shock at Faith's sudden appearance. Buffy's stomach performed a complex dance, her heart pounding. Faith's face was still ragged and drawn, hard lines and tightness, but her eyes were incongruously bright.

"Don't, B," Faith said quietly, not releasing Buffy's wrist.

"God, this is better than ER," Skinner mumbled happily in the background.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked, wary suspicion eclipsing shock. She heard Angel panting behind her.

"Giles called me. He was afraid you were going to do something monumentally stupid." Faith slid her attention to Angel briefly. "Guess he was right."

Buffy wrenched her arm out of Faith's grasp. "No, this is the only way." She met the other girl's fixed gaze. "He's going to die if I don't."

"I'm not letting you do this," Faith said quietly, intensely.

"This isn't your decision!" Buffy said angrily, her voice suddenly filling the entire library, echoing. "Just — just back off."

"Don't you see, Buffy?" Faith snarled, stepping up into her face, her eyes glinting and sharp. "This is why they shot him! So that you'd pull this martyr shit and be out of the fight!"

"I don't care!" Buffy shouted back, shaking her head violently and trying to ignore the way her eyes were burning with tears. "I'm doing this and nothing you say will stop me."

"I know," Faith said quietly, and abruptly leaned in and kissed her. It was quick, gentle, just a brief mingling of breath, but Buffy melted into it, her brain shutting down completely. She almost forgot where they were, her muscles going slack with the feel of Faith's lips on her again.

Faith pulled back and Buffy stared dazedly at her, blinking. She barely had time to inhale or wonder why Faith had just done that before the brunette's fist smashed into her cheek, throwing her back.

Buffy stumbled against the table, feeling a delayed surge of furious confusion. She snapped her head up and Faith hit her again. She was thrown to the ground, her head spinning, feeling blood welling from a cut on her lip. Faith stood over her, her face taut and pained, her eyes flashing with cold decisiveness.

Buffy tasted metal on her tongue, felt bile rising in her stomach and throat. She began to push herself off the floor and Faith kicked her in the face. Buffy collapsed limply to the ground, abruptly propelled into that liminal state between awake and unconscious. She could vaguely feel Faith drag her across the floor, could distantly acknowledge the cold tile moving beneath her stomach. Her mind felt like it was moving through some thick, viscous substance, sensations reaching her belatedly and dimly. She heard a sharp clinking noise, her body understanding the noise before her mind did as she felt an inexplicable, hot rush of fear. By some massive force of effort, Buffy opened her eyes, forcing her mind to rise to consciousness.

Everything was shifting in front of her. Her vision encompassing some white crisscrossing pane, she heard Faith saying something and then the sickening thump of fist hitting flesh. She lifted her head off the ground, feeling it throbbing with pain. Her sight cleared slightly and her eyes focused on the cage in front of her, on two figures outside of it. She couldn't see Faith's face, but she could hear her incensed shouting.

"Come on, you bastard!" Faith was yelling.

Buffy saw Angel swaying, his face slack, his eyes vacant and wavering, looking like he was drifting in and out of awareness. Faith cocked her fist back and hit him brutally, almost sending him crashing to the ground. Buffy, her neck shaking with the force of holding up her head, saw Angel put out a hand automatically to stop his fall, and then swiftly push up. He snapped up and Buffy opened her mouth in a weak gasp. His brow was ridged, his eyes yellow and hungry, a growl ripping its way out of his throat.

"That's right, baby," Faith said quietly. "Let's see that pretty face."

"No," Buffy croaked almost silently. God, why didn't she see it before? Angel needed the blood of a Slayer; didn't matter which one. Why hadn't she fought back, done more? This was her job, not Faith's. Buffy pushed herself up, her arms trembling, her head feeling like it was about to fall off from the pain. "No," Buffy said again, louder. She stood up on shaking legs, hands clinging blindly to the cage. "Faith," she said hoarsely. "Faith, please. You don't have to do this."

Faith ignored her.

"Outta your hands, Slayer," a voice said directly next to her. Buffy turned her head to see Skinner, leaning forward as far as he could in his restraints, watching intently. He was smiling a sinister, violent grin. "Just sit back and let your girl be a hero."

Buffy grit her teeth and turned back. She saw Faith peel off her own jacket, dropping it to the floor. She could imagine what Faith looked like right now, her face hard and rigid with determination, preparing herself for what came next. Buffy saw Faith's hand shoot out, grasping the back of Angel's neck and pulling him roughly to her, pressing his face into the dip between her neck and shoulder.

"No!" Buffy yelled, fear seizing her in a strangling grip. She gripped the cage bars so hard her knuckles were white. "Faith!"

There was a moment where Angel's head simply rested on Faith's shoulder, where Buffy thought that, maybe, he would stop himself. But then his eyes widened, his head shifted slightly and there was a horrifying plunging sound as his fangs pierced skin. She heard Faith gasp as Angel began feeding in earnest, his arms snaking around Faith, his hands gripping her so tightly Buffy could see his fingers digging in. There was a sickening gurgling noise as he drank from her, her body tightening in his grasp, her hand falling listlessly from his head.

Buffy felt an unbearable sensation of helplessness, watching the two people she loved destroy themselves. Faith following some idiotic sense of self-sacrificing, self-loathing nobility, Angel losing himself completely to his predatory instincts. Buffy understood Angel. He was feverish, delirious, unable to separate reality from his subconscious and too weak to subdue the demon inside. She knew him — knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he was unable to stop in time. She almost understood Faith too, but she couldn't forgive her. If she ... Buffy banged her hand against the cage door in overwhelming frustration.

Faith's body slowly grew limp as Angel drank, swaying backwards, and they fell together suddenly, crashing onto the ground. Buffy recoiled at the sound of Faith's head hitting the tiles, at the way Angel buried his teeth in her deeper, sucking at her neck frenziedly.

"Angel! Stop!" Buffy shouted desperately.

He didn't even acknowledge her, couldn't in the face of his urgency. Buffy saw Faith's entire body slump against the floor, her head rolling to the side.

"No! Stop!" she yelled frantically.

He kept drinking.

Chapter 33: Preparation, Preparation, Preparation

Author's Notes: So, I was pretty much overwhelmed by the amount of positive feedback I got from the last chapter. Overwhelmed in a good way. Thanks so much to everyone who let me know what they thought. Reviews like that make my day. And now, let us continue.

Buffy, feeling a surge of terrified determination accompanying a twisting desire to vomit, backed up in front of the cage door and kicked out as hard as she possibly could. A jolt of pain went up her entire leg and the door shuddered, but didn't open.

"Angel!" Buffy yelled loudly, and leaned back, raising her knee and kicking out again. The entire cage wall shook, but the door still held. "Angel!" she bellowed.

She kicked out once more and the door flew open, banging into the cage with a huge clanking noise. The noise finally jolted Angel out of his bloodlust. He withdrew his fangs from Faith's neck, pushing himself up, staring down at her limp form with a horrified comprehension. He rolled off of her and touched a hand to his mouth, fingers coming away red.

Buffy sprinted over to Faith, falling to her knees and taking her face in her hands. She turned Faith's head towards her, seeing the other girl's face terrifyingly slack and pallid, her neck rolling flaccidly.

"Faith, baby," she said, her voice jagged and hoarse. "Come on, wake up."

She put a hand to Faith's throat, trying to staunch the blood still flowing. Relief poured through her, so powerful she almost cried, as she felt a quick, faint throb underneath her palm.

"She has a pulse," Buffy said, strength returning to her voice, as she turned to look at Angel.

He stood, his cheeks red and flushed with new vigor, and strode rapidly over, kneeling down. "Go call an ambulance," he said quickly. He took Faith in his arms, pushing her inert body so that she was sitting up. Leaning her against his chest, he ripped a swath out her shirt and pressed it to her neck.

Buffy ran to the telephone, dialing 911. A voice answered and she swiftly relayed the information, her heart slamming against her rib cage, her hands shaking. She replaced the phone in its cradle as the conversation ended, staring at it for a moment, trying to center herself and stop her mind from conjuring images of Faith's lifeless, sallow face. She turned around to see Angel looking at her, his eyes full of deep self-revulsion and guilt.

"I — I'm so sorry, Buffy," he whispered. The piece of clothing pressed to Faith's neck was already soaked and red.

Buffy shook her head, closing her eyes. "No," she said unevenly. "This — this isn't your fault. It was her choice."

She walked over and sat next to them, feeling a peculiar twist in her heart at seeing her two lovers wrapped in such an intimate, vulnerable position. There was a soaring yearning in her chest, an urgent anxiety in her stomach. It couldn't end like this, she thought. Not after everything they'd been through, everything they had survived. She put out a trembling hand to caress Faith's cheek, softly tracing the lines on her face. She's going to get through this, she thought. And when she does, I'm going to kick her ass ... and then hug her and never let her go.

Buffy sat there for what felt like hours, alternating between searching Faith's face for signs of consciousness and looking at Angel. And then, finally, the distant blare of a siren reached her ears and she exchanged a quick, relieved glance with Angel. He scooped Faith up in his arms in one fluid, effortless movement and they ran out the library doors, Angel cradling Faith's head protectively.

"Hey! Can I be untied now?" Skinner bellowed after them.

They ignored him and ran out into the high school hallways, the paramedics meeting them with a stretcher in front of the main doors. Angel placed Faith on the rolling stretcher and looked at Buffy.

"You go. I'll call the others and follow," he said quietly, and Buffy grasped his hand, giving him a tight smile that looked more like a grimace, before following the paramedics and Faith out into the ambulance.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy sat on the chair next to Faith's hospital bed, holding her limp hand. There was an IV in her other hand, a machine beeping softly beside her. She looked so small, so weak and exposed. That energy Buffy loved about Faith, that bright, fiery vitality seemed like it had never even existed. She was so diminished, a fading image of what she used to be, sinking into inert banality. Everything felt wrong in here. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Buffy was almost numb with the sheer amount of thoughts and emotions careening through her body. She couldn't stop them, couldn't stop to sort them out.

"Buffy?" a voice asked tentatively, and Buffy was jolted out of her contemplations. She raised her head to see Giles and Willow standing just outside of the door.

She reluctantly let go of Faith's hand and stood up, her legs shaking. Willow and Giles stepped forward and Buffy met them, Willow immediately wrapping her arms around her. Buffy returned the hug, sighing and relishing the warm comfort. They withdrew and Giles put a hand on her shoulder, gripping it gently and smiling at her.

"How is she?" Willow asked, eyes flicking to the bed.

"She ... she lost a lot of blood," Buffy said hoarsely, feeling like she hadn't used her voice in days. Her face stretched painfully with the motions of her mouth. "The doctors say it's too soon to tell if she'll ..." she trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.

"I — I don't understand," Willow said, frowning. "What happened?"

Buffy looked sharply at Giles, who shook his head. "I didn't have a chance to explain," he said quietly.

Buffy inhaled deeply, frowning. "Skinner told me the cure for Angel after you left. He said it was to drain a Slayer. I was going to ..." her voice trailed off, and Willow's eyes widened in comprehension, her mouth forming a small "oh." "But then Faith showed up." Buffy screwed her eyes shut, jerking her head. "I should have known. I should have stopped her. She knocked me out, threw me in the cage, and then she — she made him drink."

Willow and Giles turned their heads to look at Faith, staring as if they had never seen her.

"Faith sacrificed herself? For Angel?" Willow asked in a quiet, incredulous voice.

"For me," Buffy responded tightly.

They looked at her again, staring at her small, lifeless form. Buffy's chest felt like it was being compacted, crushed in a vise every time she looked at her. She took a shaky breath.

"Buffy, I — I'm sorry to bring this up at such a difficult time, but we have another problem," Giles said hesitantly.

"The Mayor," Buffy said in a monotone.

And suddenly Buffy realized that she wasn't numb. Not at all. There was a simmering anger below the surface, humming underneath her skin. It soared with her statement, billowing in her veins. She recalled Skinner and Faith's earlier words and clenched her fists so hard her arms were trembling.

"That son of a bitch," Buffy hissed under her breath. Giles looked at her quizzically, a little taken aback at her vitriol. "He set this up. He shot Angel so this would happen." She sneered. "We were just pawns for him to jerk around."

"He knew Faith would do that?" Willow asked, sounding dumbfounded.

"He knew one of us would," Buffy said vaguely, but her mind was whirling, not paying attention to Giles or Willow.

This didn't come down to the actions of Angel or even Faith. This came down to that sociopathic, manipulative asshole. The Mayor engineered this. He put his pieces down on the board and sat back and laughed while it played out. Buffy felt a hot rush of bitter rage. She was through being used by people who thought she was a helpless, ineffectual tool, who thought she and her relationships existed for manipulation. Faith was in this bed because of him. Angel was most likely questioning his own humanity because of him. Buffy's gut was twisting with the wrongness of the situation because of him. People like the Mayor screwed with her because they thought they had access to more power. She was going to show them exactly how much power she had.

The Council, Azazel, Spike, Skinner, the Mayor, they all acted with delusions of impunity. They hurt her, they hurt the people she loved, they exploited her affections, and they expected no repercussions. That time was ending. And this end held no whimper. It was all bang.

Buffy's subconscious was busy formulating plans even as her attention turned to Faith. She turned from the still-confused expressions of Willow and Giles and walked over to the hospital bed. She stared down at Faith for several moments, eyes tracing her features, the thinness and paleness of her face, the spotted bandage on her neck, the way she seemed to shrink in the hospital robe. Buffy leaned over and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"I'll be back, Faith," she whispered against her skin. "I'm going to kill that bastard. And then I'm going to kick your ass." She moved down and kissed her gently on the mouth, brushing against the dryness of her lips.

Buffy straightened up and strode over to Giles and Willow again, feeling that comforting steel and resolve in her step. She had missed that certainty.

"I'm ready," Buffy said resolutely. She looked back at Faith for several seconds, frowning. "Do you think -"

"I'll watch her," a voice said, pre-empting her question. Buffy saw Angel standing uncertainly in the doorway, meeting her gaze with that same bright flash of self-loathing and remorse in his eyes.

Buffy nodded at him as he moved further into the room. She watched as he sat in the chair she herself had just vacated, looking down at Faith. She turned to leave.

"Buffy," Angel said quietly. She stopped, looking at him and seeing a cold rage blooming in his face. "I want in this fight. You tell me what the plan is and I'm yours."

She smiled grimly at him, seeing her own emotions reflected. Their minds were evidently on the same wavelength.

"Let's go," she said to Giles and Willow.

~ — ~ — ~

"So, that's what I'm figuring," Buffy said. "Input?" She surveyed the group in front of her. "Questions, comments, accusations of insanity?"

They stared at her, faces blank and dazed. She was standing in front of them in the center of the library, the group spread out around the table. It was early morning again. It was hard to believe that everything had happened just hours ago, but the soft light of dawn was proof of it. Graduation was tomorrow afternoon. The Ascension was happening in less than 48 hours.

Giles was the first to move after Buffy's statement, removing his glasses and cleaning them distractedly.

"I don't wanna say 'insane' ... per se," Willow said hesitantly, face scrunched up.

"Let's not exclude that word completely," Giles added, replacing his glasses and looking grim. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I think it's fucking ballsy," Skinner said, twisting his head from his immobilized position in the cage to look at them, smirking. "No amount of testes is gonna stop you from being massacred, though."

"Thanks for your valuable contribution," Buffy said brusquely, sparing him one dismissive glance.

"So, just to recap," Xander said, sitting on the edge of the table and gesturing uncertainly. "The Mayor Ascends during graduation. Instead of running away screaming like any self-respecting person, we arm the student populace with 18th century weapons, some of them combustible. We fight off the giant demon snake and fend off the army of vampires with aforementioned weapons. Then, you lure Mr. I'm-Too-Good-For-This-Plane-Of-Existence away and we proceed to blow up the entire school with an unholy amount of dynamite." He frowned, squinting at Buffy. "Also, are you aware you have a footprint on your face?"

"Yes, yes, yes, and no," Buffy said, eyes to the ceiling as she counted off. Her brow furrowed at the last one and she walked over to one of the library windows, inspecting her reflection. "Crap," she mumbled, leaning forward and examining the distinct indentations on her cheek and forehead. "Why, why does she insist on wearing Doc Martens?"

"It's quite an ... ambitious plan," Wesley said in a high-pitched, weak voice, trying to sound enthusiastic but utterly failing with the amount of horrified doubt in his voice.

"Giles?" Buffy asked with some trepidation, turning to him as she walked back.

Giles shook his head dubiously, eyebrows approaching his hairline. "While I have to sympathize with Wesley's poorly-concealed terror, this may very well be our best course of action." He frowned at Buffy, peering at her with that searching, intelligent gaze that made her wither a little every time she faced it. "Are you sure you'll be able to procure the necessary ... supplies?"

"That would be Xander's area of expertise," Buffy said, looking at him with a small, proud smile.

"What?" Xander asked loudly, sounding frantic. "I don't have an area of expertise! I — I have quagmires of suckiness and little pockets of moderate competence."

"Xander," Buffy said firmly. "Stop underestimating yourself with creative imagery. You did it before, you can do it again. Without you, this plan doesn't work."

Xander paled and swallowed. "You want me to do the action hero thing and abscond with a bunch of army explosives?" he asked, sounding slightly less panicked.

"That's the idea," Buffy said quietly.

He inhaled deeply, nodding. "I can do that."

Buffy grinned at him. "Can you imagine the manly points you get if you pull this off?"

Xander shook his head resignedly. "Pretty much the only reason I'm agreeing to this madness."

"Okay," Buffy said, taking a deep breath. She began to pace, periodically looking up at the group. "Wes, keep looking through the books for more info. The more we know about this demon, the more we can kill it. Giles, you're my weapon guy," she said, and then frowned. "Uh, the non-dynamite kind. Wil, I need you to help Xander get the goods."

"What about transportation?" Willow asked worriedly.

"I think I can help with that," a voice said in the doorway.

Everyone in the library looked around to see a small, red-headed figure standing awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

"Oz?" Willow asked quietly, voice full of anxious hope.

"Hey," he said shortly, eyes flicking to Buffy briefly. "Figured a spacious hippie van could help with the brewing apocalypse." Buffy nodded. Oz looked towards Willow, attention focusing solely on her. "Can we talk?"

Willow exchanged a brief, panicked glance with Buffy, eyes holding a muted desperation. Buffy gave her a sympathetic look.

"Uh, yeah," Willow said weakly. Shooting one more flustered stare at Buffy, she stood up and walked with Oz out of the library doors.

Buffy turned to everyone else after the doors stopped swinging.

"Aw," Skinner said, smiling a horribly artificial smile. "Ain't reconciliation grand?" No one looked at him.

"Everyone got their assignments?" Buffy asked. There was a collective nod. "Alright, people. Go forth and prepare."

Chapter 34: More than One Way

Author's Notes:

It was funny. With the Ascension, the Mayor, and the situation with Faith and Angel, Buffy had essentially forgotten the initial purpose of Graduation. She was leaving high school. She had received the acceptance letter from UC Sunnydale a couple of weeks ago in the mail and had dropped it nonchalantly on the counter. Larger things had been occupying her mind. But she was going to college. She could pretend to live a semi-ordinary life. When this was over, if it didn't end in the utter destruction of Sunnydale, she could take classes, live in dorms, go slaying with her girlfriend, hang out with her friends. Buffy kept this image of precious normalcy in a corner of her mind, conjuring it when she needed a break from planning a war.

While the others were fulfilling their various functions, Buffy had stopped by her house to get some new clothes, weapons, and force her mother to take an impulsive, hastily-planned vacation. She couldn't have her here, couldn't put her in unnecessary danger if something went wrong. Wrong, of course, being that their plan failed miserably and the Mayor razed the entire town while still digesting them. Buffy tried not to think about this.

She went to the hospital too. Walked into the darkened room, blinds shut, and found Angel staring at the opposite, neutrally-colored wall with vacant, distant eyes. He snapped his head around to look at her when she walked in, blinking rapidly.

"Buffy," he said quietly, sounding almost disoriented. She didn't know where his mind had gone, but she could guess he wasn't imagining himself frolicking in a sun-lit, flowery field. Just like her, just like Faith, he was questioning his own identity, his own morality, who he thought he was. Except that for Angel, it was familiar problem.

Buffy slid her eyes over to Faith, hearing the soft beeping of the machine, seeing the same tubes running out of her mouth and nose. "Any change?"

Angel shook his head slowly. "The doctors came in and talked to me," he said in a quiet, hesitant voice, his sentence trailing off as if he didn't want to say more.

"And?" Buffy asked edgily, eyebrows raised.

"They said she's in ... she's in a coma," Angel responded softly. His jaw clenched as he finished the statement, his anguish-filled eyes sliding to Faith almost involuntarily. "They said that the — the blood loss," he said, stumbling over the words rigidly, "was too severe."

Buffy closed her eyes and tried to repress the thickening in her throat. "Can — is she going to wake up?" she asked hoarsely.

"They don't know," he said faintly. He wasn't looking at Buffy.

Buffy felt cold, as if a block of ice had just dropped into her stomach. That sensation of utter wrongness, approaching surreal, returned. Faith should be by her side, fighting with her against the Mayor, not fading into the background, lying motionless and stagnant.

"Angel," she said, a slight tremble in her voice. She swallowed. "After sunset, I want you to get as many weapons as you can and then come back to the library."

Angel looked at her briefly and nodded his understanding. Buffy felt herself shaking and suddenly needed to get out of the room. She felt constricted, suffocated, couldn't watch this any longer. She turned quickly and began to move towards the exit.

"Buffy," Angel called after her. She stopped in the doorway, turning to look at him. "After the fight ... I'm not going to say goodbye," he said softly. Buffy felt her face tighten. "I'm just going to leave."

Buffy clamped her jaw shut, staring at him for several seconds before spinning around and walking out.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy stood in the library that night, surveying her team. Wesley, Giles and Angel were standing in various positions around the table, primly upright and looking attentive, pacing slightly with his hands in his pockets, and leaning against a bookshelf, arms lightly crossed. Respectively. Willow, Oz, and Xander were sitting at the table, looking at Buffy steadily and temporarily ignoring the pile of books in front of them. Buffy could see Willow and Oz holding hands, fingers laced gently. She ignored the heaviness in her gut and the echoing sensation of Faith's fingers intertwined with her own and smiled at Willow. Willow beamed back at her, shining eyes sliding to her recently-reinstated boyfriend.

There were boxes and crates all around them. Axes, crossbows, broadswords, maces jutting out dangerously everywhere. Upstairs, in the stacks, there were bags of fertilizer, large barrels, and carefully organized piles of explosives. Buffy ran her eyes over them, internally smiling a grim, satisfied smile.

"I'm bored," Skinner said from the cage, sighing and rolling his eyes melodramatically to the ceiling. Everyone glanced at him.

"Can I get you a magazine?" Buffy asked sarcastically, twisting her head to glare at him. "Maybe a Bloody Mary?"

"Only if it's got your blood in it," Skinner responded, smirking. "Heard Slayer juice does some crazy shit to vampires." He looked at Angel questioningly, cocking his head. "That true, buddy?"

Angel stared at the ground, posture still carefully casual, not rising to the bait.

"Enough from the evil peanut gallery," Buffy said tersely. She looked at her group again. "You guys did good -"

A large crash drowned out the rest of Buffy's words. The door to the cage flew open with a violent shudder and Skinner, mobile, free, and wearing a feral, hungry grin, stepped out with open arms.

"You really should get that lock fixed," he said, licking his fangs in anticipation. "Wouldn't want someone dangerous getting out."

Before Buffy could do more than growl ineffectively, Xander was up and thrown across the room, smashing into Giles and going down in an ungraceful heap. There was a frantic scraping of chairs as everyone backed up to safer areas. Buffy snarled and moved forward, pivoting on her right foot and spinning out with her left in a savage kick. Skinner ducked, caught her leg and flipped her over, Buffy landing straight on her back as the air was forced out of her. She lay on the floor gasping, hands clutched to her stomach, glancing at the battleaxe she had avoided impaling herself on two inches away. Thank God for small favors, she thought distractedly.

"Aw, Slayer. If I'd known you'd get on your back for me this easily, I woulda skipped all the foreplay," he said, grinning down at her.

There was a whooshing noise as Angel's fist sliced through the air where Skinner stood a second ago. Skinner backhanded him viciously, kicking him in the chest and sending him flying into a bookshelf. He turned back to Buffy, leaning over, grasping the front of her shirt and holding her immobile in the air. He avoided a kick from Buffy with a smirk and pulled her against him, opening his mouth wide, fangs glinting dangerously as he lowered his head. Buffy struggled furiously and ineffectually, her heart pounding with fear. Skinner's teeth touched her neck.

And then he froze and slowly looked down at the stake protruding from his chest. Buffy fell out of his grasp with a grunt.

"This is ... fucking disappointing," Skinner said flatly, and dissolved with a soft pop.

Wesley stood behind him. His arm was still raised, his face frozen in an expression of utter astonishment. His eyes were monumentally huge and staring blankly ahead.

"Wes," Buffy said in mild shock, rubbing her neck and raising her eyebrows, impressed.

Wesley blinked and focused on her.

"Dear Lord," he squeaked. Then he fainted.

Buffy stared down at him, sprawled out on the ground. The others came and stood by her, forming a circle around Wesley's unconscious form. Buffy tilted her head.

"I know you're supposed to say he looks peaceful," she said, squinting. "But ..."

"He still just looks like a huge, spazztastic dork," Xander finished. The others nodded in agreement.

"Can someone get him home?" Buffy asked, wanting to look up but unable to tear her eyes away from the grotesque slackness of Wesley's mouth.

"Sure," Willow said distantly, except she didn't move. Nor did anyone else.

They stood around him for another minute, until Buffy shook her head violently and raised her head. "Okay, this is approaching voyeurism. Enough shameless spectating. You guys go on home."

"But what about the ..." Willow said, waving her hand at the multitude of weapons and dynamite.

Buffy glanced upstairs. "Giles and I can wire up the library. Get some sleep."

The group exchanged looks.

"But, Buffy -" Willow started.

"Go. Home," Buffy repeated firmly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

They exchanged one more quick, fearful glance and then moved as one to the exit. Willow, Oz and Xander grabbed various limbs of Wesley's and half-dragged, half-carried him out the door. Angel flicked his eyes, soft and apologetic, to meet Buffy's and then quickly slid them away, walking out of the doors. The last footsteps disappeared and Giles stood in front of her, scrutinizing her with thoughtfully narrowed eyes.

"You should go home, too," he said.

Buffy shook her head. "All that's waiting for me there is an empty house. Can't sleep before a big fight like this anyway."

Giles inclined his head at her, accepting her statement. "I suppose we should set up the illegally assembled explosives," he said, sighing. "Rather a large amount of dramatic irony here."

"You mean 'cause we gave up our physical and mental health defending this place, and now we're gonna blow it to smithereens?" Buffy asked, walking with Giles upstairs. "What the hell are 'smithereens' anyway?" she mumbled, frowning. "Like the dickens. All these unexplained analogies."

Giles ignored her familiar rambling. They reached the upstairs floor and he inhaled and looked around the library, placing his hands on the banister. "It has served us well. In its own incompetent, utterly unserviceable way."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, looking at him with the ghost of an amused smirk playing around her mouth. "When you give my eulogy, it better be a hell of a lot more flattering than that."

Giles put a hand on her shoulder, grasping it tightly, and smiled at her. It was a proud, paternal smile, full of warmth and reconciled sadness. It made Buffy's heart ache. She swallowed and smiled back at him, trying to communicate her gratitude, her love, her trust.

Setting up the explosives took an hour, during which flashes of events ran through her head like a disconnected film roll. Everything that had happened in the library, in the school, every life she had rescued and everyone she hadn't been able to save. Come this time tomorrow, whether they won or lost, everything around her would be decimated, smoldering shrapnel. She couldn't tell if that was a comforting or terrifying thought.

As Giles went into his office, sleeves rolled up in preparation for another exhilarating research session, Buffy sat down at the table, half-heartedly pulling one of the volumes littering the table towards her. In the middle of reading about Marcus Chatwick, a pastry chef trying to prepare his town for a warlock's Ascension using only cheese Danishes, she felt that familiar leaden ache in her eyelids, that enervating warmth seeping into her limbs. Buffy put the book down and closed her eyes, just for a second, just to concentrate, and opened them to find herself in Angel's mansion.

She vaguely acknowledged that she was dreaming, looking at the way some objects were lucidly focused, some of them blurry around the edges. The room was bathed in a soft, yellow light, the walls pure and untarnished. There was a feeling of peaceful stagnation here, as if the air itself had stopped moving. She could hear herself breathing, slow and muffled in her ears.

"Looking for something?" a familiar voice asked behind her, light and amused. It cut through the thickness of the air, sharp and clear.

Buffy was smiling before she turned around. Faith was standing there, stance relaxed, arms crossed casually. There was an easy, lopsided smirk on her face. Buffy felt a sharp yearning flare in her stomach, looking at the soft, smooth lines of Faith's expression, the quiet animation in her body. Everything in Buffy ached to touch her, to feel warm, alive skin thrumming under her hands, but some ineffable feeling in the dream held her back.

"Just passing through," Buffy responded.

Faith took a step forward, the light hitting her face and distorting her features for a split second. Her body was glowing, suffused with a slow radiance. God, she was beautiful. Buffy's heart constricted painfully at the sight.

"Ain't that my job?" Faith asked, lips curling lazily.

Buffy blinked rapidly, trying not to squint at the light surrounding the other girl. "Why aren't you here?" she whispered.

Faith tilted her head. "You know me, B," she responded softly. "Like to make my fashionable entrances."

Buffy shook her head, something unsettling rising in her gut. "You shouldn't. You don't know which way you're going." The words poured out of her mouth with no preceding rational thought, but there was a strange sense of gravity as she said them.

"You gonna be my guiding light?" Faith asked, smiling gently. The shine on her lips and small strands of her hair were glinting. Her eyes looked lighter somehow, specks of colors mixed in with deep chocolate.

Buffy's brow furrowed. "I don't think that's how it goes," she said slowly.

Faith's smile changed. There was a brush of sadness in it, a resigned knowledge. "Pretty sure there's more than one way this can go."

Buffy's stomach coiled uneasily. "You have to come back."

Faith stepped forward again, holding Buffy's gaze. She drew so close Buffy could see her eyelashes, flashing softly as she shook her head. "Not in my hands, B. Not in yours, either."

Buffy felt her eyes burn, felt the corners of her vision begin to blur. Her throat was closing up.

"Don't cry, B," Faith said, her voice cracking. She moved forward swiftly, coming to within inches of Buffy and raising her hand. She placed a warm, firm palm on Buffy's cheek, wiping a tear away with the pad of her thumb. She was looking at Buffy with such tender melancholy that Buffy almost stopped breathing. "You got this one, okay? It's all on you."

Buffy looked at her plaintively, melting into the contact of Faith's hand. "It shouldn't be," she whispered.

Faith smiled sadly at her. "Maybe not," she said quietly. Buffy stared into her eyes, swirling with ardent emotion, and felt like she was drowning. "Or maybe it shouldn't be anyone else."

Buffy lifted a hand to put over Faith's, holding her against her cheek.

"You know the drill, B," Faith said softly. "No one likes to lose control. Not even him." She cocked her head, brushing a finger along Buffy's jaw and causing her to shiver. "You ready?"

Buffy snapped her eyes open, inhaling sharply. Her eyes roamed her surroundings, her heart pounding, Faith's question echoing loudly in her head. She raised her head, prying off the page her cheek was stuck to, and blinked as images and feelings from the dream coursed through her. She could still feel the electric trail that Faith's fingertip left along her jaw.

"Buffy?" Giles asked, walking out of his office and stopping as he saw her face. "Are you alright?" he asked, brow furrowing in concern.

Buffy swallowed. "I, uh — yeah. I just — I had a dream."

Giles sat down next to her, looking interested. "Prophetic?"

"Not ... exactly," Buffy responded distractedly, internally parsing the conversation she just had with Faith. She turned to Giles suddenly, eyes hard and certain. "I'm ready."

Giles looked mildly perplexed at Buffy's sudden change in demeanor. "Er — that's good," he said uncertainly, eyes flicking down. "Would that readiness include cleaning your saliva off of a priceless 16th century manuscript?"

Buffy blinked and looked down at the journal she had slept and apparently drooled on, cringing sheepishly. "Oops."

Chapter 35: Bona Fide Rebellion

Author's Notes:

"You're ready."

Buffy shifted in her robes, the chair creaking under her. She glanced to her right as Willow walked swiftly up the aisle, trying to sit down as covertly and quietly as possible. Buffy raised an eyebrow at her flustered, guilty face.

"Still human?" Willow breathed, looking at the Mayor. "Good."

"That's what this diploma really means," the Mayor, continued, holing up one of the rolled-up papers. "It's not about high school, or me, or even the gently-perspiring Mr. Snyder over there. It's about you. You did what you needed to do and you took valuable skills and experience away from it," he said in a stern, pedantic tone, pointing at the assembled class. "You are ready to move beyond these four walls, to graduate from your old existence. You're ready to ascend."

Buffy stared at him, eyes narrowed. He was a complete enigma to her sometimes. He was speaking with such earnestness, such genuine emotion and vehemence, and, yet, he was mocking them. Talking about their futures as if he wasn't planning on killing them all brutally in about ten minutes. Why would he even bother? Either this was all part of his manipulative, sociopathic self, able to talk to them with false conviction and enjoy the ironic pretense of it all, or the Mayor had the ability to completely detach himself from his own evil intentions. Neither option was especially appealing.

Buffy turned to Willow as the Mayor continued his inspirational speech. "Where were you?" she whispered curiously.

"Having sex," Willow whispered back casually, leaning a little towards Buffy but still focused on the Mayor.

"Oh," Buffy said lightly. And then did a double-take as Willow's words fully penetrated her distracted consciousness. "You what?" she asked, much, much too loudly.

Several students turned around to glare at her, frowning indignantly. There were some hushing noises. Buffy cringed.

Willow looked at her with an amused smirk. "You really need to work on this whole inconspicuous thing more."

"You're evil," Buffy hissed at her, trying to repress a grin. "Just dumping that on me. You know my voice gets all — all uncooperative when I'm surprised."

Willow raised her eyebrows in mock-shock. "I was not aware of that, no." Buffy gave her an unamused glare. "Besides, since when do you have the right to scold me for dumping unexpected news?" Willow asked, pointing at her accusatorily. She adopted a slightly high-pitched voice, trying to imitate Buffy. "The weather's nice today. Oh, and by the way, I've been banging Faith."

Buffy opened her mouth in astonishment, ignoring the way her stomach clenched with Faith's name and the memory. It seemed like another life. "You — you ..." she trailed off, not having a proper insult. "Apparently sex does wonders for your sass level."

Willow shrugged, smiling and conceding the point. They both turned back to the Mayor.

" — are the future. You kids are bright, ambitious, and resilient. That world is going to do its very best to toss you around, to take that center of control away from you. But — and trust me on this — nothing happens to you unless you let it. You seize your own future," the Mayor said, gesturing and sounding like a corporate-sponsored motivational speaker. Buffy absorbed his words and the meaning behind them, staring fixedly at him. She heard Faith's voice echoing in her head, sharp and certain. No one likes to lose control. Not even him. "And I have no doubt -"

The Mayor stopped talking abruptly, his eyes rolling up to the sky. Buffy and the rest of the students followed his gaze, seeing the growing darkness. A black disk was moving in front of the sun, blotting it out slowly. An eclipse. The air was different suddenly, darker, ominous. Buffy's skin was crawling, a cold pit in her stomach.

"Here we go," Buffy whispered. Willow's face was hardening, her mouth tightening.

"Well, I honestly thought I'd have a little more time. I still have a good third left of my epically rousing speech," the Mayor said, frowning in earnest. "But, seeing as I've been waiting 150 years for this moment, I'm not going to complain." He doubled over, gasping in pain. "It's starting," he grit out, face contorted in agony. "My Ascension. Your ... descent. How beautifully complementary."

He clutched at his stomach again, releasing a strangled groan. Buffy clenched her fists, energy and violence rippling through her veins and muscles.

"Come on, you bastard," she whispered.

The Mayor suddenly stood up straight, tilting his neck up to the sky. And then Buffy saw him expanding, his head growing upwards, outwards, his skin adopting a green tinge. There was a tearing sound as his clothes ripped apart, his mouth open and yawning, crying out, and then a sickening stretching noise as his head and body swelled fiercely. His transformation was terrifyingly fast, his body already nearly unrecognizable. Buffy and Willow stood up, watching him with a combination of fear, awe, and steel resolution. The sound of chairs scraping, knocking over as the rest of the assembly followed them, cries of shock and terror slicing through the air. The Mayor's forehead was widening, ridges and scales growing. Buffy could see the elongation of his teeth and pincers growing out of his cheeks. She swallowed the bile in her throat, watched as he began shooting up, 10 feet, 20 feet, 30 feet, until he was towering above them.

The Mayor as a human was officially gone. His body was a long, sinewy rope, green scales glinting. His eyes were huge and black, fangs protruding from his mouth and pincers clicking threateningly. He snapped his jaws and hissed.

"Now!" Buffy yelled, and opened her robe, dropping it to the floor. Everyone around her did the same, bedecked in weapons, armed to the teeth with axes, swords, crossbows. There was a roar in her ears, of anticipation, of pride and exultation. She felt like there should be some sort of melodramatic music, pounding drums and inspirational harmonies. This was a bona fide fucking rebellion. An affirmation of self, of life, a refusal to lie down and wait for one's own demise. They ran out and met it.

"Flamethrowers!" Xander shouted, and there were suddenly streams of fire shooting out from the front row, licking the snake's body. The Mayor howled.

Xander began directing the students, the same animated determination that Buffy felt burning in his eyes. The air was hot, broiling and chaotic, arrows whizzing out from the student body, her classmates gripping their weapons like they were the only connection to life (which they probably were). The Mayor hissed and coiled back. She blinked and he had struck, so fast he was a blur, clamping jaws on a student and lifting him up. There was a nauseating crunching sound and then the body was gone, sliding down the snake's throat.

Buffy felt a soft ripple of heat from behind her as the back line lit flaming arrows. She could feel the spread of tingles on her back as the vampires moved closer, could hear soft growls and footsteps. And then she heard anguished roars, sizzling, those indescribably satisfying pops as vampires crumbled. There was a swell of movement in the student body, a gathering wave as they turned from the Mayor and began attacking his undead employees, war cries echoing.

Buffy looked back anxiously, watching her class surge against the vampires. She saw Xander, barking out orders confidently, standing above the crowd. She caught a glimpse of flaming red hair, saw Willow brandishing a stake and yelling wildly. Heard distant screams as students fell, snarls and incoherent yelling, more soft explosions of dust. Buffy saw the vampires retreat as one, stumbling frantically away from the small army of her classmates, and meet the next wave. Angel, Wesley, and the burlier members of the football team were standing behind them, postures not unlike John Wayne. Buffy couldn't see Angel's expression, but she could imagine it. Eyes cold and narrowed, mouth a tight line. This was the closest he came to brushing against redemption, to turning that violent predator inside him to good. Buffy saw him throw himself in the fray, a small, black figure jabbing and flowing. She felt a hot swell of pride and then swallowed, turning back.

Her turn.

Buffy weaved through the crowd, eyes fixed on the Mayor's gleaming fangs and cold, black eyes. She vaulted over a chair and stood only feet in front of his massive length. She was scared. God, was she scared. He was faster than her, monumentally stronger, a 10-foot-wide cord of pure, lean muscle and an appetite for high school students. Buffy crushed her fear down into a tiny ball, let unadulterated anger and lucid hate take its place. This was it. Everything was on her.

"Hey! You!" she bellowed. The Mayor snapped his head to look at her. She thought, if snakes could smile, he would be. "You think you're set, don't you? You think you own this town. You think it's yours." The Mayor opened his mouth, strange, demonic pincers moving on the side of his elegantly sloping head. "Well, I got some unfortunate news for you," Buffy said loudly, trying to communicate every ounce of contempt, of bitter scorn she had ever felt through her voice. "It's not. It's mine. And you, Mr. Mayor ... you're just another speed bump."

The Mayor was swaying gently in front of her, huge pupils fixed on her. "You think you have control? Over this? Over me? You think I haven't faced a million assholes like you and come out smiling? You may feel invincible now, but you'll be just another dead demon tomorrow." Buffy looked up at him, bright and fearless. "You wanna prove me wrong, Dick?" He hissed softly. "Come and get me."

He coiled back, his mouth wide and eager, a deep, rumbling growl echoing around the courtyard. Buffy felt her blood rushing, hot and fast, as she whipped around and sprinted, hearing his jaws snapping sickeningly close behind her. She ran, pulse pounding in her ears and temples, legs and arms pumping, lungs screaming as she drew breath between her teeth. She ran, lockers whipping past her, all of her concentration focused on her own movement and the sounds behind her. There was a huge, reverberating crash as the Mayor rammed through the doors, as the walls crumpled before him like cardboard. Buffy rounded a corner, shoes skidding, felt the wall just behind her explode as the Mayor smashed through.

She could hear him behind her, hear him hissing and snapping teeth, hear his slick body sliding on the tiles. She kept running. She couldn't think too hard about what she was doing, who was chasing her. She let the rhythm of her feet, pounding against the floor, the rhythm of her own shallow, hoarse inhalations, guide her. Let pure instinct, fight or flight mentality overwhelm any useless emotions. Let fear and anxiety be submerged under unthinking intensity. And she ran.

Buffy turned left and entered the hallway leading to the library. The lockers behind her were crushed into shrapnel. She pushed through the library doors, avoided the 18 metric tons of explosives, jumped onto the table and vaulted over the banister, navigating through the stacks. She heard the walls collapse behind her as the Mayor's head shoved its way through. Threw herself out of the window at the very back of the library, glass shattering around her, and catapulted herself into bushes ten feet below. Made her body tight and compact, absorbing the blow, and rolled out of them, hitting softly damp grass and running again. Giles was waiting for her, kneeling next to a box and a lever. She crouched next to him and met his grim, decisive gaze. He cringed in anticipation and pushed down on the trigger.

"Well, darn it all," Buffy thought she heard someone say in a booming, inhuman voice. And then the school exploded.

She and Giles were hit with a huge, intense wave of heat as the library windows burst. They were forced back, throwing hands in front of their faces instinctively as a surge of hazy, blistering heat crashed into them. Buffy felt the tips of her hair getting singed. Glass blew out in a shattered ripple, flames and looming clouds of debris and ash bursting out of them. The air itself felt like it was on fire, vibrating and scalding. Orange and yellow and angry red clouds licked the walls, shooting up into the sky. They heard echoing explosions as more dynamite was triggered, as the school erupted. Buffy and Giles shielded their eyes and squinted at the rampant destruction. It was magnificent. And she thought, Faith would have loved to see this.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy stood in the center of the parking lot. Her ears were still ringing from the explosion and everything sounded a little muffled around her, like she was hearing it through a thin wall. She looked around her, distantly acknowledging the sirens, flashing lights, people on stretchers. She felt almost disconnected, as if her mind had detached and was floating around somewhere, jellyfish-style. She hadn't fully absorbed what had just happened. It was too large for her poor, overwhelmed brain to handle.

Buffy stood on the asphalt, dazed and unblinking, and stared at the school. Or what was left of it. Black piles of rubble, parts still collapsing, trees around the campus gently smoldering. She had lived there for three years. Had talked and laughed and gone to class and saved everyone in it from unspeakable evil. Now it was decimated. They had decimated it. Of course, she had also nearly died in there around 346 times, so that sort of balanced out the wistful nostalgia.

A warm hand descended onto her shoulder, and she turned her head around torpidly to see Giles standing next to her. She blinked rapidly, feeling her consciousness settling a little. Giles' face was covered in black soot, streaks of ash in his hair and on his cheeks, but he was looking at her warmly through spotted glasses.

"This school's destruction was rather inevitable, wasn't it," he said, eyes traveling the same path Buffy's had. "Can't imagine how it survived this long." They stared at it for a moment, Giles slipping his hands into his pockets. There was something undeniably weighted, something final about their stances and gazes.

"What just happened?" Buffy asked dazedly, looking up at Giles with a confused, plaintive expression.

"We won," Giles responded simply. "We all got through it."

Buffy swallowed, suddenly feeling grounded. Her brain decided to descend from whatever distant planet it was orbiting. There was a strange sensation of zooming in, of everything materializing clearly, of her body becoming painfully aware of all of its scratches and aches. Almost all of us, she wanted to say, but she couldn't force herself to wipe that serene look off Giles' face.

He took off his glasses, finally acknowledging their lack of cleanliness, and began rubbing them on his shirt. And then stopped, grimacing, as he realized his shirt was resplendent with debris and soot as well. He sighed and put them back on.

"Wesley seems to have contracted a severe case of being knocked unconscious. I suppose I should go see if he's still singing delirious snippets of Carmen," Giles said, voice tinged with amused exasperation. He turned to go and then stopped, putting his hand back on Buffy's shoulder. "I'm proud of you," he said quietly, simply. Buffy looked back at him, feeling a thick lump forming in her throat.

He walked away and she inhaled, eyes returning and searching the wreckage like she was looking for an explanation. They had won. They had defeated the Mayor and saved the town, and done it with minimal casualties. They had graduated high school. Buffy could understand her achievements abstractly, and yet the reality of what they had done, of the futures she had created, still eluded her. She vaguely acknowledged that the accompanying emotions would probably come later, would envelop her in the safety of isolation.

Her heart was making half-assed attempts at soaring, but it was still tethered down, still heavy. Buffy felt her limbs trembling softly and abruptly realized she was painfully exhausted. She turned around, finally ripping her focus away from the school, and saw Willow, Xander, Oz and Cordelia, standing around an ambulance and talking. Xander was sitting on the edge of the van, eyes still bright and glittering, holding a bandage to his forehead. He was smiling, his grin wide and undaunted, as Oz said something to the group. Buffy felt a pure rush of warmth drop into her stomach as she looked at them. Laughing, smiling, reveling in their own survival, their aliveness. This was who she saved. This was why.

She felt her mouth form a smile, a rusty and unthinking grin that cracked through the soot and ash on her face. Willow, whose hand was resting on her boyfriend's shoulder and whose hair closely resembled a bright orange chia pet, suddenly turned her head as if she realized someone was watching them, and found Buffy. Her grin was immediate and shining, and she raised a hand to wave exuberantly at Buffy. The others turned at Willow's expression too, until they were all smiling at her, eyes warm, bright and proud. Buffy raised her arm to wave back and froze.

There was a sensation running up and down her back, a soft and familiar prickling, a line behind her stomach, taut and undeniable, pulling her around. Her smile faltered, an unpleasant, anxious fluttering beginning in her stomach. She knew what was waiting for her before she turned around. He stood 20 feet away, that same quiet strength in his posture, that same resigned weight on his shoulders, that same soft wavering in his eyes. He was watching her steadily.

"Angel," she whispered, and knew he could hear her.

Everything about this moment seemed achingly familiar, as if she had lived it before. His ubiquitous black coat, billowing softly around him in the steam, the tight shape of his mouth, the lights flashing and throwing shadows on his face. They looked at each other and didn't need to say anything, because the look in his eyes expressed everything she was feeling. Her heart was pumping, but it felt constricted, restrained. Everything around her was unfocused, fading away, until it was just the two of them that existed. They stood until the emotion of the moment trickled through Buffy's stomach, until it was just a moment in time and they were simply two people standing. Angel closed his eyes once, opened them, and turned slowly around. Buffy watched him walk away in that languid, loping pace, watched the steam float around him until he was swallowed up. And then he was gone.

She stood, hands hanging limply, feeling her shoulders rise and fall, feeling the acute weight of her feet on the ground. It felt like she had been preparing for this moment, for his departure, forever. And now that it was here, she looked around her and saw that life continued. She slipped out of their encased bubble and saw that the rest of the world hadn't stopped for them. She didn't collapse, or start crying, or fold into herself; she stood and inhaled. She felt the pain, that ache in her stomach and chest, and acknowledged that it wouldn't always be so prevalent. She understood that he would always be there, if not physically, and that they would both survive and thrive. She stood a little straighter and walked back over to her friends, who had been watching her and trying not to be blatantly obvious about it.

Willow stretched out an arm and took Buffy's hand in her own as she reached them, giving it a gentle squeeze. Buffy smiled weakly at her, the gentleness and compassion in her friend's face causing, for the first time tonight, an obstruction to form in her throat. Surrounded by people she loved, she could feel the diffusely numbing shock dissolving, could feel that expanding ball of emotions threatening to rise up, and she accepted it. She could deal with them now.

"He's gone?" Willow whispered, eyes crinkled in empathy.

"Yeah," Buffy responded quietly.

There was a moment of silence until, typically, Cordelia shattered it.

"Well, I for one vote to leave this crap-hole of a school and never look back," she said, crossing her arms, eyebrows arched in that somehow reassuringly snarky way.

"Second," Xander contributed, standing up, still holding a bandage to his forehead.

"Three years," Buffy said, remaining where she was. "Three years of imminent danger, averted apocalypses, and biology labs that were obviously devised by some Buffy-hating demon."

They followed her gaze, expressions resembling nostalgic, and then, as one, snorted, turned around and began walking away.

"God, how I'm not in any way gonna miss that place," Xander said vehemently, shaking his head. "Whose genius idea was it to build a place commonly associated with hell over hell itself?"

"I'm going with my Buffy-hating demon," Buffy responded.

"Right, because every problem in the world is actually part of a massive Buffy-hating conspiracy," Cordelia said sarcastically. "Center of the universe much?"

"And I think we should all take a moment to appreciate the marvelous concept of Cordy accusing someone else of self-centeredness," Xander threw in.

Cordelia smacked him lightly, but she was smiling. There was an air of exhausted triumph, the kind of delirious, inordinately relieved happiness that only comes from escaping a near-death experience. Buffy could feel a smile forming on her own face, watching them interact, feeling the monumental victory, and unable to actually muster the energy to be pissed off at Cordelia.

They walked over the grass away from the school, the rubble still gently smoldering. Buffy stopped abruptly, brow furrowed. Willow turned around with a quizzical look, her motion stopping the person her hand was attached to. Oz looked back as well.

"I think I'm gonna head over to the hospital," Buffy said quietly.

Willow's eyebrows creased in concern. "Are you hurt?" She began looking frantically over Buffy's body. "Is there internal bleeding that I can't see, and of course I couldn't see it 'cause it's internal, but Oz has a van and -"

Buffy shook her head, cutting off Willow's slightly panicked run-on sentence. "I — I just want to see her."

Willow exhaled, her expression smoothing out in relieved comprehension. "Oh," she said quietly, and smiled at her a little sheepishly. She watched as Buffy walked away from them.

Chapter 36: The Day Faith Wakes Up

Author's Notes: So, this is it. The ending. Conclusion. Finale. Bottom line. It has truly been a learning experience for me. Thanks so much to everyone who even briefly participated in this little excursion. Special thanks to those who reviewed. You guys kept me posting. And here it is. Will Faith ever wake up? Will Buffy have to carry out a relationship with a comatose ... oh. Maybe I should have named this chapter something a little less obvious. Hm.

The day Faith woke up, Buffy was helping Willow hang a Cibo Matto poster in their dorm room at UC Sunnydale. The windows were open in their room, a soft, balmy breeze blowing in and making it difficult to do anything remotely productive. Their things were scattered aimlessly around the room, boxes and suitcases stuffed with their possessions, and every time Buffy looked at them she had a sudden, burning desire to run outside and frolic. Decorating the walls was one thing, but engaging in genuinely responsible behavior was not on the menu today. Buffy had heard some pretty melodramatic horror stories about college dorms, but this, well, this was friggin' fantastic. Rooming with her best friend, closet space for her weapons' trunk, living in a building with the highest mortality rate on campus — really, what more could a girl want?

They were giggling helplessly, for no particular reason except for the nervous giddiness that inevitably accompanies a new environment. Buffy was smoothing out the poster and the Dingoes were playing in the background, Devon's deep, rock-god croon floating through the room. She still didn't understand how someone as dick-headed as Devon got to have a voice like that, but she supposed that was just the universe's sense of humor manifesting itself in strange ways. They were making fun of him and commenting on the profundity of Oz's guitar chords, conversation frequently dissolving into irrational, uncontrollable laughter.

The day Faith woke up, the hole inside Buffy's stomach that had appeared when Angel left and Faith took up residence in a hospital bed — well, it wasn't quite as unbearable as it usually was. She felt like at least half of her summer had been spent beside Faith's vulnerable, small form, sitting in that horrendously uncomfortable chair that smelled vaguely of disinfectant and staring at those diplomatically off-white walls. She had sat there, sometimes tracing the lines on Faith's pallid face, sometimes whispering things to her, sometimes simply staring at her with every molecule in her entire being willing her to wake up. Faith was strong, Buffy knew. But she didn't know where Faith was putting her strength, what course she was pursuing. Pretty sure there's more than one way this can go, she heard Faith's softly resigned voice saying. She knew Faith didn't like to surrender, but she liked to have things on her own terms. And she didn't know what those terms were.

The day Faith woke up, Buffy and Willow stepped back, tilting their heads and staring quizzically at the poster's utter lack-of-straightness.

"Cibo Matto's a bunch of rebels, anyway," Buffy rationalized, brow furrowed. "I'm sure they'd appreciate our refreshing take on the concept of horizontalness."

Willow tilted her head more, examining it. "It looks straight if you do this."

They stood with their necks bent at unnatural angles, Buffy feeling like she was about to surrender to another round of hysterical giggling, when a shrill ringing sounded throughout the room. Their heads swiveled around quickly, Buffy jumping a little at the unfamiliar noise. They had just connected the phone that morning and it was, under extreme levels of persuasion by Buffy, a hideous pink color that made Willow wince every time she looked at it. They focused on it and then exchanged a happy glance.

"Our first communication with the outside world," Buffy said in a high-pitched, excited voice. "This is momentous."

She walked over to it, steps a little bouncier in the face of technological progress.

"Hello, you've reached Buffy and Willow's humble abode," she said brightly, picking up the phone. "How may we help you?"

"Buffy -" Giles began.

"Giles!" she interrupted loudly, looking at Willow and gesturing wildly. "You called!"

"Yes, uh, obviously. I need to -"

"Willow's here too. We're decorating our room. I think we're trying to go for a more relaxed femininity, you know? Nothing too glittery or pink — well, except for the phone, which you really should see 'cause it's wonder -"

"Buffy!" Giles cut her off. She stopped talking, frowning and finally absorbing the level of urgent seriousness in his voice. "It's Faith," he said, more quietly, and Buffy's overexcited brain froze. "She's awake."

Buffy stood holding the phone in limp hands, Giles' words sinking into her. Faith. Awake. Her breath was suddenly loud in her hears, her heart skittering erratically against her chest. She was experiencing a curious sensation of sharpening, of everything becoming bright and focused.

"Is he dissing our phone?" Willow asked curiously.

~ — ~ — ~

Buffy sat in the back of Giles' shitty little car, hands clasped and twitching. She felt like she couldn't sit still. Her stomach had decided to mimic a two-year old with ADHD and was currently running around frantically. Faith. Awake. It still hadn't properly sunk in. It wasn't as if she hadn't imagined this moment every day for the past three months, but she hadn't thought it would be quite so ... anticlimactic. She thought it would happen as she was holding onto Faith's weak, cold hand, whispering "Wake up, you asshole," over and over again. She thought it would be the sort of perfectly-timed, Hollywood reconciliation. But, no, of course Faith had to take her sweet, precious time.

And the weirdest thing about it? The one, overwhelmingly dominant emotion she was feeling? Nervousness. Sure, there was happiness and a strange uncertain sadness and scorching anger, but the one prominent emotion? Your basic, mundane performance anxiety. She was nervous about seeing Faith again. What would they say? Could she go sit in that sickeningly familiar chair, look in those deep, chocolate eyes that she had been dreaming about for months, and say, "Gee, thanks for almost sacrificing yourself to save my vampire ex-lover, and I know there was that whole debacle with demon possession, but could we maybe go steady again?" Would Faith still even want her?

Buffy felt a hand descend on her shoulder and jumped. Willow removed her hand, unsurprised at Buffy's startled reaction, and peered at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly. Buffy saw Giles turn his neck slightly, listening to them.

Buffy inhaled and ran a hand through her hair. "Let me get back to you on that," she muttered. She shook her head, said, "I've been thinking about this moment since graduation, and now ... now I don't know what to do with myself."

"Well — and this is only my humble opinion," Willow said, putting her hand on her own chest, "I think you should walk in there and say, 'I'm glad you're not in a coma any more.' Direct, to the point, simple."

Buffy sighed, brow creased. "Is it really?" she asked quietly.

Willow frowned. "Uh ... translation?"

"Is it really that simple?"

Willow smiled a little. "Let's find out."

When Giles pulled into the hospital parking lot, Buffy was biting the inside of her mouth, jaw working. She stepped out of the car, went through the sliding hospital doors and didn't even really register her surroundings until she was directly outside of Faith's room. God, she hated this place. The smell, the walls, the cold, shiny floor, the twist she got in her stomach the moment she stepped inside. She had come here because seeing Faith trumped the hospital's unpleasantness, but she still absolutely loathed it. It was a place of sickness, of death and helplessness, of everything she hated and shied away from. Most of all, it felt like a conclusion, like finality. People came here — Faith came here — to die. Except she didn't. She was alive. Buffy's heart thumped, and she imagined Faith's thumping along with it.

She stopped outside of the doorway and turned to see Giles and Willow standing behind her, watching her. She swallowed, drew courage from their supportive, empathetic gazes, and stepped through the doorway.

Faith was lying on the bed, same pale, hospital garb, same limp, supine position, same facial expression. Her eyes were closed and the first thing Buffy felt was a rush of weakening fear. Oh God, she wasn't awake. They had made a mistake, or lied, or gotten it completely wrong. Buffy took a step forward, her throat closing up in pure panic, and Faith opened her eyes.

Buffy froze, inhaling sharply. They stared at each other for a couple moments in silence, just absorbing each other. It was recognition and awe and re-discovery. Buffy looked into Faith's eyes, looked into that soft, enveloping brown, and fell in love all over again.

"Buffy?" Faith whispered finally, her voice hoarse and unused. She was looking at her like she wasn't sure if she was actually real.

And something happened to Buffy that hadn't happened the entire summer. She started crying. Something inside of her collapsed and she started crying. She hadn't let herself truly cry, let go, for the past three months. Not even after the Mayor, not even when everything in her body was aching for emotional catharsis. Not when she was sitting beside Faith's comatose form, wringing her hands and staring at her with the kind of intensity gamblers stare at slot machines with. She took every urge to break down and squashed them until they were under layers and layers of suppression and self-deprecation. She didn't cry because she didn't think she deserved to. Angel, Faith, all the people she loved — she hurt them, drove them away. She did it. Everything came down to her own actions, to her own failures. So Faith opened her eyes and Buffy started crying, not realizing she hadn't or why until tears were sliding down her cheeks.

She held a hand to her mouth and stood there, sobbing, breath coming in short, uncontrollable pants, shoulders heaving. She felt like she was being turned inside out. She was crying because it was salvageable. Because, just this once, she hadn't utterly ruined it. Because Faith was alive and she was so happy and relieved she could hardly breathe. Faith's expression changed to painful bewilderment.

"Buffy," Faith croaked. "B ... don't cry. Please."

Faith pushed herself up, grimacing a little, and swung her legs onto the floor, flinging the sheets away. She stood up and Buffy saw that she didn't even shake. She walked over swiftly, purposefully, not stopping until she was inches away. Faith didn't hesitate, wrapping her arms around Buffy and pulling her firmly towards her, covering her, creating something warm and safe around them. Buffy felt her arms snake around the other girl on their own volition, tightening around her waist and back, feeling bones protruding where there was muscle and skin before, feeling how Faith had shrunk. She pressed her face into Faith's shoulder and cried at feeling her again. At feeling her warm and alive and here. Buffy became aware of all of the minute sensations filtering through her, of Faith's rhythmic, rapid heartbeat, of the rustling of her paper-thin hospital robe as she moved her hands, of the sharpness of her shoulder blades under her fingertips, and of the trembling exhalations coming from her own mouth.

She drew back after several moments, after her crying had dissolved into sniffles and shaky breaths. Faith looked at her with bright eyes, slowly moving her hand to stroke the blonde's hair.

"I missed you so much," Buffy whispered.

Faith smiled a small, reluctant smile. There was an undercurrent of sadness in her expression. "I missed you, too," she said hoarsely. They were only inches away. There was a moment where Buffy unthinkingly leaned in, wanting that warmth she had been denied for months, and Faith inhaled sharply and stepped back.

Buffy blinked as Faith walked back over to her bed, facing the wall. She probably should have expected this, this distancing.

"How do you feel?" Buffy asked quietly.

She saw Faith shake her head. "I wasn't sure where I was when I woke up," she said softly, back still to Buffy. "Wasn't sure if I was alive, or in ..." her voice trailed off. Buffy felt like the other girl was suddenly too far away, but didn't move. "I was ready, you know," Faith started again, in a slightly stronger voice. "When I went to the library, when I went after you ... I was ready."

Buffy's brow creased. "For what?"

"Not coming back."

Buffy's stomach clenched at the simplicity, the lack of emotion in that statement. "I wasn't," she said, slowly, clearly. Faith turned around, a flash of anger in her expression.

"You know what I dreamed about there?" Faith asked harshly, her eyes narrow as she jerked her head towards the empty bed. "You know what I dream about every night?" Buffy didn't say anything. "Killing people. You, Giles, Willow, random guys. I dream about shoving rebars through your skulls and watching you bleed out. And not caring." She was spitting out the words, her face rigid. "That the kind of person you want coming back, huh? 'Cause that's the kind of person I am."

"Bullshit," Buffy said calmly. Faith stared at her. "That's not who you are."

"That's all I am," Faith said quietly, sadness eclipsing her anger. "That's what I'm made to be."

"No. You're not," Buffy said firmly, stepping forward. "This? This power that we have, Faith? It's just that. Power. Not good or bad. And it's ours. It's our choice." She shook her head, brow furrowed. "I understand that now. Our strength, our speed, our abilities — we decide what to do with them. We don't have to be defined by the fact that we slay. We define ourselves. We make ourselves." She fixed Faith's gaze, moving closer. "This is the one thing we have control over. Our actions."

"Except when you don't," Faith said shortly.

"That wasn't you," Buffy responded quickly.

Faith looked away and exhaled. "Maybe, maybe not. Can't tell the difference now."

"I can," Buffy said softly. They looked at each other. "Do you know what a Slayer is, Faith?"

Faith raised an eyebrow. Even after a coma, the snark still existed.

"Alone," Buffy answered simply. Faith's eyebrow went down. "I was called three years ago, and I felt more alone than I've ever felt in my entire life. A Slayer is alone. Even my friends," she swallowed, "even Angel, they can't understand what it's like. No one can really. One girl in all the world, right? I'm meant to slay, to live in isolation. And I was ... until you came." She stepped forward and reached out her hand to take Faith's. The brunette didn't pull away. "Don't you see? I'm not one girl anymore. You came. You can understand me. You are the one person who I can share that with." Buffy felt her throat close up at the emotion in Faith's eyes. "We don't have to do this alone."

Faith didn't answer, just kept looking at her with deep, shining eyes.

"I love you," Buffy said, her voice cracking. "And it's not because you're a Slayer, Faith. It's because of you. I know who you are. I know the good and bad. And I want you to come back."

She searched Faith's face for several moments and then leaned in again, stopping inches from Faith's lips to give her a chance to pull away. She didn't. Faith herself closed the distance between their mouths, and the first contact felt like coming home. It was a short, chaste kiss for them, just a re-introduction, but the emotion flowing through it made it electric, made it resonate through Buffy's entire body. The feel of soft, full lips, breath mingling, the way their fingers interlaced even tighter throughout the kiss — it was right.

Faith pulled back and they stood, foreheads resting together.

"I love you so much it's fucking terrifying," Faith said ruefully.

Buffy laughed softly. "Of course. You can face mucus-shooting, green-scaled demons with razors for arms without twitching, but having a girlfriend just crosses that pants-pissing line, huh?"

She felt Faith smile briefly, and then become serious again. The other girl inhaled deeply, shakily.

"I just ... I don't know who I am anymore," Faith whispered.

Buffy smiled. "I'll teach you."

THE END