Chapter Text
As soon as she saw who was waiting for her behind the glass partition, Faith knew. When Willow’s eyes caught hers, and Faith saw the grief and exhaustion that Willow seemed to be drowning in, she knew. There was only one reason Willow would be here, and it wasn’t to get Faith’s opinion on if prison was as bad as ‘Law & Order’ made it seem.
Faith had thought she knew grief, that she had experienced every level of depression and rage and self-loathing, but she had no idea. Not really, not until the moment Willow’s voice was in her ear, tiny and too fucking clear through the visitor phone, saying words Faith had never thought she’d ever really hear. Faith had no idea what true anguish could be until that moment.
She didn’t cry, not then. Willow did; Faith would never forget the big, fat tears rolling down Willow’s face as she talked about how Buffy had died—saving the world of course, because Faith had no doubt heaven would riot if Buffy went out any other way—and Faith had wordlessly stood up and walked away. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Willow since.
The next few months were a blur of pain and blood, as Faith picked fights with anyone stupid enough to take her on. They could never really hurt her, not in the way she wanted. Eventually, she got thrown in solitary. She liked it, because no one bothered her there. She was alone, just her and the pain that seared through her veins, burning her from the inside out. That’s when she finally let the tears flow. When she was finally honest with herself about Buffy, for the first time in a long time.
She’d always been attracted to Buffy, from the moment they’d met. Sure, she’d had that whole prom queen vibe going on, but Faith knew there was more to it. She knew Buffy had razor-sharp teeth, that she had the same kind of steel in her bones that Faith did. And Faith was right.
She was also very, very wrong. Because while they both had steel in their bones, Faith was the only one with poison in her veins. Where Buffy was the light, Faith was the dark, and once Faith had realized that she liked Buffy so much that she loved her, well. She kind of imploded. Boxed up all that love and desire, wrapped it up in layers and layers of hatred, and then tried to set it on fire. Because she wasn’t worthy of Buffy, she wasn’t worthy of anyone. And she’d hoped that the path she had been racing down would end in her death.
But it hadn’t. It ended in Buffy’s, instead.
You deserve this, she reminded herself over and over. She was a horrible person. She’d killed people. She deserved this pain and more. She was the one who should be dead.
Not Buffy.
And yet Faith was the one still breathing, while Buffy was six feet under.
The idea that Buffy at least had a ‘good’ death, saving her family and the entire world, the kind of death Slayers were supposed to dream of, should’ve brought Faith some comfort, but it only made the pain sharper. Made it grate against her insides, rub her raw until Faith was sure there was nothing left of her but blood and regret.
She’d never truly apologized to Buffy. She’d tried, but how could words undo even a quarter of the damage Faith had inflicted? She could still hear Buffy’s voice echoing in her mind, the last conversation they’d had—’Apologize to me and I will beat you to death.’ Faith had fractured just a little more then, her heart shattering into pieces as she’d whispered back, ‘Go ahead.’
Buffy hadn’t beat her to death. Hadn’t raised a hand to her. And Faith had never tried to apologize again. Faith didn’t deserve Buffy’s forgiveness any more than Buffy had deserved to die.
Faith didn’t have another visitor until over five months later. She was back in the general population by then, and when she saw Angel sitting across the glass, she inhaled a deep breath. He’d finally shown up, ready to share the pain. This is gonna suck.
It wasn’t odd that she hadn’t seen him in months; his visits were sporadic as it was, and she knew it would probably take him a few lifetimes to get over Buffy’s death. She’d expected to look into his eyes and see what she felt inside: empty and lifeless, going through the motions.
She wasn’t expecting him to look exactly like he did every other damn day of the week: that same broody forehead and dark styled hair, but instead of a grief-stricken grimace, there was a concerned frown on his face. He looked her over from head to toe, raising an eyebrow as she sat down and lifted the receiver.
“You look like shit.” The glass separator between them needed cleaning, but she could perfectly see the critical way he was eyeing her.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Sorry,” she snapped. “If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have skipped my weekly visit to the spa.”
Angel’s frown grew deeper. “Eddie told me you’re not doing great. Picking fights. Not eating. What’s going on?”
Faith turned, glancing at Eddie over her shoulder. He was one of the few good guards, and he was standing by the door, deliberately not looking at her, focusing on the other inmates chatting with their visitors. She turned back to Angel, and then stared down at the chipped countertop as her heartbeat sped up in her chest. Oh, nothing, she thought. Just a little depressed over the death of the only person I ever loved. Who’s also the only person you ever truly loved. So why the fuck don’t you look even half as bad as I do? “Just a bad few days,” she finally said quietly.
“Eddie said it’s been months.”
She glared back over her shoulder. “Eddie needs to shut his fucking mouth.” Eddie’s gaze slipped over to her, to Angel, and then away. She knew she couldn’t do jack shit about Angel keeping tabs on her, but she didn’t need a goddamn babysitter.
“What do you care, anyway?” she asked, whirling back to Angel, looking him square in the eye this time, letting the anger and irritation flow through her. It felt good, hot and fiery, way better than the cold grief that had been washing over her for months. “Surprised you’re here. I figured you’d still be locked in your room or wearing a mourning shroud or whatever.” She huffed, looking at his black shirt under his black jacket. “Although I guess your regular wardrobe qualifies well enough.”
She didn’t see a flash of grief on Angel’s face, or even a flicker of sadness. He looked confused. “Mourning?”
“Uh, yeah.” Jesus, did he have vampire amnesia? Was she gonna have to break the news to him again? Fuck her life. “You know. Blonde love-of-your-life slayer bit the dust.” She was proud of how flippant she sounded as she said it, even if her gut twisted as she said the words.
Angel glanced away, and then back to Faith, his brow furrowing. His mouth opened, and then closed, and then opened again, like he was struggling for words, which would be funny as fuck, if it wasn’t so worrisome. “She did,” Angel finally said. “And I did—I mean, I went to Sri Lanka. To—deal with it,” he finished quietly.
This time she did roll her eyes. “Yeah well, not all of us are able to take a luxury vacation when shit goes bad.” He probably went to some monastery or something and partied like a monk, with lots of meditation and tea and accepting his circumstances. What a pussy.
“Is that what this is about?” Angel asked, sitting up straighter. “Buffy?” Faith looked away; she couldn’t keep her gaze on his face. If she kept looking into those sad brown eyes she’d fucking lose it, and she could not—
“Faith,” Angel said, his voice low and urgent, “she’s—she’s alive.”
She could not have heard right. Her head snapped up, something flaring up white-hot in her belly as she met Angel’s gaze. She stared at him, and now it was her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the words. “What?”
“Willow and Xander—they brought her back. She’s alive.” A small smile crossed his face, the one she’d long ago labeled his Buffy smile, because it only came out when she was around. Or when he was thinking about her. “She’s back in Sunnydale. I saw her, it was—” He shifted in his seat, glancing away— “different than I thought it would be.” He met her gaze again, and her mouth went dry because he was serious, she could tell, he meant every fucking word. “But she’s alive. And getting back to her life. I think.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll be hearing from her again any time soon.”
And that thing flaring up in her core snapped and sparked; it was something Faith hadn’t felt in fucking months, in years, it was hope and joy and tears filled her eyes before she could inhale another breath.
“Buffy’s—alive?” She could barely hear herself, but she knew Angel would have no trouble.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I thought you knew, or I guess I—Faith?”
She was up and on her feet, turning and walking towards Eddie. “I need to go,” she told him, and with a nod, he opened the door so she could return to her cell. Behind her, she could hear Angel calling her name.
~~~
She left that night. The only reason she waited that long was so she’d have the cover of night to evade the gunfire from the towers. Escaping from a minimum-security prison was easy, as was stealing the first car that got her halfway to Sunnydale before it ran out of gas, and then the second one that took her the rest of the way. Stealing money from strangers and food and civilian clothing from gas stations—that was easy, too. Figuring out what the fuck she was going to do once she got to where she was going—that was the fucking hard part.
She had to see her. Just once. Faith just needed to see with her own two eyes that Buffy was alive and okay. She had no fucking idea why it was so important, why she couldn’t just take Angel’s word for it or call Willow or any one of a hundred other ways she could have handled this that didn’t involved adding years onto her already-lengthy jail sentence, but she had to look at Buffy and know it was real. That she was back.
And that she was okay.
After that, she’d figure out what the fuck she was gonna do, because she’d definitely added a few thousand extra miles on the redemption track Angel had set her loose on.
It was getting close to dawn when she passed into Sunnydale. She needed to ditch the car, she needed to get some food, she needed to sleep, she needed to stop and fucking think, just for a second, but instead she drove down streets that shouldn’t feel so damned familiar. She’d only hung around Sunnydale a year or so. Nowhere near long enough for her to feel so comforted by recognizing streets and buildings.
Or for her heart to speed up as she realized she had been steering herself right to Revello Drive.
Which was stupid. What was she gonna do, knock on Buffy’s door and go, ‘What’s up, B? Heard you came back from the dead—again—so thought I’d come hang, see if you’re over that whole hating me forever thing? Hey, got any snacks? They don’t really have the good stuff in prison.”
First of all, of course there would be snacks; Xander was there. Second of all, if she went within 30 feet of Buffy’s house, Willow would probably smite her on sight. She might have delivered the news about Buffy, but that didn’t mean she was ready to welcome Faith back into the fold. And don’t forget the Slayer’s little sister, she was tiny but the fiercest of all. She might claw Faith’s eyes out if Faith gave her the opportunity.
But she couldn’t stop herself. She parked the car, leaving it on the side of the road not far from the Bronze. She was cutting through Restfield Cemetery when a flash of blonde hair stopped her in her tracks. And then Faith stopped breathing completely, because there she was, hardly fifty feet away.
She was walking among the graves, so casually that if it weren’t for the early morning hour and the fact that she was in a cemetery in Sunnydale, she could have been taking a leisurely stroll through the park. She was loosely holding a stake in her hand as she walked, but instead of scanning the landscape in front of her, looking for vampires or demons or what-the-fuck-ever, she was staring at the ground in front of her, seemingly lost in thought.
Seeing her was like an adrenaline shot straight to the heart, and Faith blinked rapidly against the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. Buffy was back, real and alive, and even from here Faith could smell that damned lotion she always wore, the jasmine crap that made Faith ask Buffy if she’d shoved some flowers up her cooch before patrol. And Buffy would roll her eyes and smile, and Faith’s pulse would spike at the sight of it.
Faith closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath, and when she opened them Buffy was still there. She hadn’t disappeared, this wasn’t some crazy dream. Buffy had stopped walking and was leaning against a gravestone, stake still in her hand as she stared off into space. Faith was in the shadows of a mausoleum, but with Buffy’s slayer eyesight, if she turned her head to the left and focused, she would probably see Faith.
But she didn’t turn, didn’t move at all, and just when Faith was starting to worry that maybe she’d found the zombie Buffy (because even if she came back a zombie, of course she’d still dress fashionably and have her hair perfectly styled), Buffy sighed and pushed up to her feet. Her gaze remained unfocused as she walked, and Faith wondered what she was thinking about.
She’d had that thought so many times; so many days researching in the library or patrolling with Buffy, and Faith would glance over and wonder what she was thinking about. If it was anything close to the thoughts running through Faith’s mind. Which, back then, had usually bounced between figuring out how to take down whatever big bad they were dealing with and what the lip gloss on Buffy’s lips would taste like. Relief shook Faith’s frame again as she realized she would have many more years to wonder what the fuck was going on in Buffy’s head.
Faith would make sure of it.
Now that she’d had a few moments to get her shit together, Faith let herself really look at Buffy, drinking her in like a cold beer. (And wow a cold beer would be amazing; she was definitely hitting up a bar as soon as she figured out a way around the whole ‘Wanted Felon’ thing she had going on.) Buffy’s hair was shorter than Faith remembered, just brushing her shoulders, and her clothes hung looser on her frame. She also walked slower, less purposefully. Even when things were at their shittiest, Buffy always moved with a determination that made Faith want to follow her anywhere. And not just because it gave Faith a great view of her ass.
But now, her step wasn’t as firm as it was in Faith’s memory, or as sure. Instead she seemed listless and fragile in a way Faith had never seen before. The worry from before started to wash over her again, and she was struck with an almost irresistible urge to call out to Buffy, to run over and look into those eyes and see if the spark she remembered was still there.
Faith pressed her lips together and shifted closer to the mausoleum wall so she was deeper into the shadows. You aren’t here for that.
She was here for one reason, and it wasn’t to talk to Buffy. She was here to see Buffy, because once Faith’s fucked-up brain had heard that Buffy was alive, it wouldn’t shut the fuck up. And she’d thought that once she’d seen her, it would quiet down, and she could think, figure out what her next step was. But once she’d laid eyes on Buffy, she’d realized it wasn’t her brain that was making all the noise—it was her heart.
Her greedy, selfish heart, and it wasn’t anywhere close to satisfied. It wanted more, it wanted to call out to Buffy, to talk, to touch, to pour out all the desire and longing that Faith had kept locked up for the past few years.
It was a good thing that every part of Faith was used to disappointment, because that wasn’t going to happen. The last thing Buffy needed right now (or ever) was a depressed, lovelorn wanted fugitive at her doorstep.
Buffy had literally been to hell and back again, and there was no way Faith’s name was anywhere near the list of people Buffy wanted to see again. She was clearly still dealing with whatever the fuck she saw in the hell dimension the Scooby Gang had pulled her out of, and her old buddy Faith, who’d only tried to kill her once or twice, would only hurt her more.
Faith needed to leave. She needed to walk away, find a place that was not Sunnydale to lay low for a few days, and figure out where she was going and how she was gonna get there.
And the whole redemption thing, she should keep working on that, too. Since she’d promised Angel and all.
But her feet wouldn’t move. They kept her rooted to the spot, and her eyes stayed glued to Buffy. Buffy, who was coming closer, and if Faith didn’t move, Buffy would—
Faith sensed it before Buffy did. A vampire, somewhere near and getting closer by the second. Faith reached to her waist for a stake, but of course she didn’t have one because she’d been too busy breaking out of prison and driving six hours like a fucking insane person to grab weapons.
There were trees a few feet away—she could grab a branch for a makeshift stake, but Faith could see the shadow of the vamp fast approaching. Buffy wasn’t even looking in the vamps direction; she didn’t tense, didn’t show any sign that she was gearing up for a fight. It was going to get the drop on her, and before she knew it, Faith was moving, jumping out, yelling “Buffy, watch out!” as she pulled an arm back and slugged the vamp in the nose.
“Ow!” The vamp staggered back, and Faith got a good look at him—white-blond hair, cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass, and an English accent—Shit. It’s Spike. She’d met him once, but he had no idea he’d met her—she was in Buffy’s body at the time.
She knew there was some kind of thing with him and the Scooby Gang, something in his head that stopped him from killing, but she also remembered him threatening to hurt Buffy (or Faith-as-Buffy, anyway), and she wasn’t going to let him have an opportunity. She moved in with a kick, which he dodged, another punch, and then pain exploded in her jaw as he got her with an elbow. She reeled back, grunting, but quickly surged forward for another hit only to see that Spike was also falling back, cursing loudly as he held his head.
“I didn’t even hit you that time,” Faith said, fists still up, glancing back just enough to confirm she was firmly between Spike and Buffy.
“Oh, bloody hell.” Spike glared at her, stepping backwards again, still wincing as he held his hands up in mock surrender. “I don’t know where the bodyguard came from, but can you call her off, Slayer?”
“Faith?”
Faith was still staring at Spike when Buffy’s voice hit Faith’s ears, and she had to swallow down the lump that immediately formed in her throat. Spike’s expression turned from annoyed to confused to contemplative as Faith fought to keep her face expressionless. She knew she wasn’t successful, but no time to deal with it now. She pasted a generic smile on her face as she stepped sideways, not putting her back to Spike, but allowing her to see Buffy.
“Hi, B.” Buffy was gaping at her, still holding the stake loosely in her hand. “Surprise?” Faith said, attempting a weak smile. This close, Faith could tell Buffy was definitely wearing that same lotion, and fuck it smelled like heaven.
“You know her?” Spike asked, eyeing Faith speculatively.
“Yeah,” Buffy said, her voice quiet, still staring at Faith like she had two heads. Then she seemed to snap out of it, standing up straighter and looking between Faith and Spike. “Um, Faith, meet Spike. Spike, Faith. Spike’s…” Her nose wrinkled as Spike raised an eyebrow at her, waiting. “He’s okay.”
“Oh.” Faith looked over at Spike, who gave her a nod. “He’s a good guy?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Buffy said, her voice returning to the normal, playful timbre that Faith remembered. “But he’s not really a bad guy.”
“Yes, I am!” Spike huffed, glaring at Buffy. Faith couldn’t help but crack a smile, which made Spike turn his glare onto her.
“He’s not evil—well,” Buffy said, her mouth twisting like she was holding back a smile. “He’s not much of anything right now.”
“Hey!” Fully turning to Faith, Spike said, “I assure you, I am very evil. Faith, eh? The other slayer. I’ve heard of you.”
I bet, Faith thought. Out loud, she said, “Yeah. We've met.”
“We have?” Spike asked, surprised, right as Buffy asked, “You have?”
Shit shit shit, why did you open your big mouth? “Uh. Yeah.” Faith glanced at Buffy, then to the ground. “It was—” She paused, her throat constricting as shame washed over her.
“Ah,” Buffy said, and when Faith glanced at her, her expression was unreadable. “When we switched.”
“Oh,” Spike said, a cocky grin falling over his face. Faith could practically see the swagger come back into his step, even though he was standing still. “I definitely remember that. Hard to forget.” He looked at Buffy, and whatever he saw on her face wiped the grin off of his.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Faith thought. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have come here.
“Well,” Spike said after a moment of silence, “now that it's nice and awkward, and dawn is coming, I'm going to go back to my crypt.” He turned to Buffy, “Unless you want me to walk you home?”
“That’s not necessary.”
Faith risked a glance at Buffy; she was openly looking at Faith, but the anger and resentment Faith expected to find was nowhere in sight. Instead there was an openness Faith had only seen when she first got to Sunnydale all those years ago, before Faith royally fucked everything up.
“You sure, pet?” Spike stepped closer to Buffy, and Faith frowned, not sure if it was the protective movement or the pet name that irritated her more. “This one might try to kill you again.” He jerked his chin towards Faith, and guilt and anger joined the shame coursing through her. “Or sleep with your boyfriend,” Spike added, and Faith wanted to vomit. “Not that you have one right now—”
“Spike,” Buffy said, her voice hard and deadly, matching the look she was shooting at Spike. “Go.”
With an eye roll and a dramatic flick of his duster, Spike turned and stomped away. Faith watched him go, and then turned back to Buffy, who was still looking at Faith, examining her almost. She shoved the stake in her jacket pocket as she took another step towards Faith, putting her within arm’s reach.
“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked, looking Faith up and down, and Faith suddenly remembered she was wearing a pair of sweats that were too big for her and a Britney Spears t-shirt that she’d ripped off from a gas station. She’d had to ditch the prison jumpsuit ASAP, and this was the first thing she could get her hands on. “I thought you were—”
“In prison?” Faith finished, and Buffy nodded. “Yeah. I was. I just—” Had to see you like the obsessed stalker I swore I wasn’t gonna be— “had a thing. I needed to do. So I left.” She had to stop herself from cringing. You have zero chill, said a voice in her head, one that sounded suspiciously like Cordelia.
“You ‘left?’ Prison?” Buffy’s voice was incredulous, and she shook her head, crossing her arms. “Guess the whole ‘atoning for your sins’ thing didn’t really work out for you?” And all at once, the openness was gone, and Faith was staring at the Buffy that had told Faith in no uncertain terms that if she ever saw her again, she would kill her. And even though Faith’s brain was yelling and cussing at her, telling her to turn around and walk away, her heart was blaring even louder.
“No, it did. Uh, it is. I just. The thing I had to do was important.” She sighed, feeling completely off-kilter, and just let the words fall out of her mouth. Whatever, she was never one for taking the easy way out. Like, ever.
“Look, B—Buffy,” she corrected, “I know I'm probably the last person you wanna see, and I know words are just words and actions mean more and I shoulda stayed away but obviously I didn't and I understand if you still wanna beat me to death but I heard you were dead—” Buffy glanced away then, and then back to Faith, “and then you weren’t, and I just wanted—I need,” Faith cleared her throat against the emotion welling up, and forced herself to look Buffy in the eyes, “to tell you how sorry I am. For everything. And I don’t expect you to do anything with that, I just needed you to hear it.” Buffy stared back at Faith, her face expressionless, but Faith could see something flickering in her eyes, and she had no idea if it was good or bad. “I needed to say it, I guess.” Now would be a good time to shut up, Faith thought, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t seem to shut the fuck up now that she was here. “Which is really selfish and I know you’ll never forgive me—”
“I don’t,” Buffy said, and Faith’s mouth snapped shut. She blinked once, twice as the ball of nerves in her gut hardened and sank, dragging her down with it. She shouldn’t be surprised, she knew Buffy would never want to see her again. Faith nodded, looking down to the ground, maybe if you’re real quiet they won’t notice you sneaking back into prison—
“Want to beat you to death, that is,” Buffy continued.
Faith’s head snapped back up to see Buffy’s still watching her neutrally, though Faith thought her eyes held a little more warmth than before. “Oh.”
“I did.” Buffy stepped closer, and then moved to lean against a nearby gravestone. “At one point. More than one point.” She glanced away, her eyes taking on that faraway expression Faith had seen when she was patrolling. “Back then, I couldn’t remember ever being as angry as I was at you. But more things happened. And then I died.” She looked back to Faith. “And now I’m back.”
“I’m glad. That you’re back.” Faith chuckled— “I didn’t realize Slayers got nine lives.”
Buffy paused, and then quietly said, “We don’t.” She cleared her throat, focusing back on Faith. “But dying—again, and having it stick a little while—put things in perspective.” She gave Faith a small smile, and Faith’s heart leapt at the sight of it. “I’m not saying I’ll ever forget what you did—what we did to each other—but forgiveness…” Buffy exhaled a short breath. “It’s a possibility.”
Faith blinked, sure she was going to wake up at any second, because this had to be a dream. But Buffy didn’t disappear, and Faith didn’t wake up on her hard cot in her small cell. Buffy continued looking at her, and Faith thought she could finally see that spark she’d been searching for earlier.
“Wow,” Faith breathed, “that’s—”
“I know I’m not blameless,” Buffy said. “Bad things went both ways.”
Faith snorted; Buffy always did like to be the martyr. But the reality was, anything Buffy had done, she’d done because Faith had forced her hand. “Yeah, but B, I—”
“Faith,” Buffy said, sounding tired, “I’m trying to accept your apology. Would be great if you’d let me.”
“I just—” Faith automatically started to protest, because pushing back was an automatic response by now, and Buffy shot her an exasperated look. “Thank you. I’ll shut up now.” She grinned at Buffy, who smiled back, and for fuck’s sake, it was like the sun was rising out of a black, starless sky and birds started singing and goddammit did you honestly think seeing her would make you love her less?
Buffy slowly turned and started walking towards the exit of the cemetery, still looking at Faith, and Faith accepted Buffy’s silent invitation to walk beside her. The sun actually was rising, making the sky fade from darkness to light, and Faith wondered if Buffy had been out patrolling all night. She snuck a glance at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the tightness of her expression. Buffy looked exhausted.
Before Faith could ask if there were a lot of vamps out and about that were keeping her out late, Buffy said, “So. Your thing.”
“What?” Faith had no idea what Buffy was talking about.
“Your thing that you had to do. That you broke out of prison for.” Oh. That thing that I totally made up. Sort of. “Is it here in Sunnydale, or…?” Buffy raised an eyebrow at Faith.
“Oh, uh, yes,” Faith said. Then, “I mean no. I mean it’s—” She wracked her brain, trying to come up with something that wasn’t, ‘You. My thing was you,’ and the best she came up with was, “complicated.”
Buffy nodded, and Faith waited for her to press, to ask for more, but instead Buffy asked, “So are you leaving? Because we could use your help. Or I could.”
“You could?”
“Yeah. I’m a little rusty. You know, with the slayage.” She gave Faith that small smile again. “Could use a training buddy.”
Faith’s initial urge was to say, Fuck, yes. Beyond the few fights when she started her sentence, making sure everyone knew not to fuck with her, she hadn’t seen any action in ages.
But that was the point. She was supposed to be in prison, doing her time, because when she saw action, she couldn’t keep a handle on herself. She should tell Buffy no, that she needed to get in touch with Angel, apologize for fucking over his redemption plan, and figure out how to get back on the straight and narrow.
Plus, staying here in Sunnydale, seeing all of Buffy’s friends, all of whom she’d fucked in more ways than one—
Well. Maybe this was part of her redemption arc. Facing the people that had every right to hate her, and letting them.
“What about the Scooby gang?” she asked, deflecting as her mind worked through the possibilities.
“Oh, they’re all—around. Well, Giles went back to England.” That surprised Faith, that Giles would just—up and go, especially after Buffy came back. But whatever, not her business, and she wasn’t going to complain about one less frowny face around her.
“Willow and Tara are doing the school thing and so is Dawn, and Xander is working,” Buffy continued. She looked at Faith as they continued down the sidewalk, and Faith realized she was taking Faith towards Revello Drive. To her house. “Doesn’t leave a lot of help for fighting demons and vamps.”
Faith wanted to say yes, she desperately wanted to, but this all seemed just—too good to be true. Good shit didn’t happen to her, not like this. “I dunno, B,” she finally said. “I just—I don’t wanna intrude. I mean, I’m kind of a jailbird. I’ll put a target on your back.”
Faith was sure her picture was probably all over the television and internet, and if she wasn’t going to turn herself back in (which would mean not only extending her sentence, but also probably going into a higher security prison), she needed to get out of the state ASAP. Out of the country, really.
Buffy shrugged. “Won’t be anything I’m not used to. And maybe Willow can help with that.” At Faith’s questioning look, Buffy said, “Turns out computers and witchy stuff are a dangerous combination.”
They walked in silence for a few more moments, turning down Buffy’s street. Faith should leave, she got what she came for, and staying any longer would just lead to more bad shit for everyone. And she turned to Buffy, opening her mouth to say exactly that, but what came out was, “Maybe just a few days.”
She could practically hear Angel’s voice in her head. This is a bad idea. But then Buffy smiled at her, a real smile full of teeth and relief, and Faith was done. There was no way she was leaving Sunnydale; she’d sealed her fate as soon as she’d gotten one glimpse of Buffy. As long as Buffy wanted her here, she would stay.
And with Faith’s history, that would be maybe a day, until Buffy remembered all the horrible shit Faith had done and realized Faith was the last person she wanted around her.
Until then though, Faith was gonna follow her tried-and-true philosophy that only got her in trouble about half the time. She was gonna enjoy the ride.
“I wouldn’t mind some good old-fashioned sparring sessions,” she said as they approached Buffy’s house. “Might be fun.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, still smiling. “It just might. I also might have the latest Britney album, if you wanna borrow it.” She eyed Faith’s shirt. “Since you’re apparently such a big fan.”
“Laugh all you want,” Faith said, following Buffy up the steps to her front porch, “but Toxic is a fucking banger.”
~~~
The house was quiet, and Buffy led Faith down to the basement. A washer and dryer were against one wall, and a small cot was set up a few feet away, with a blanket and a pillow sitting on top. It was a big basement, way larger than her cell, and better lit too. And didn’t smell like rank B.O. Wins all around.
“I’d put you on the couch,” Buffy said apologetically, “but everyone will be up soon, and I figured you’d wanna sleep. Plus I’d like to talk to them before—”
“Before they find out about the murderer in the basement.” Faith nodded, flopping back on the cot. Not half bad.
“Hey.” Buffy’s voice had gone all serious, and Faith turned to see a small frown on her face. “Don’t do that. Okay?”
Faith swallowed at the concern she saw on Buffy’s face. Concern she sure as hell didn’t deserve. “Okay,” she whispered, turning to pull off her shoes because Buffy looking at her like that made her face flush with warmth, even as it made her guts twist with guilt.
After Buffy went upstairs, the door gently clicking shut behind her, Faith took another look around at the first place she’d sleep in months that didn’t have a set of steel bars between her and the next person that might want their revenge. Being in jail sucked, but it still kept her safe from vamps and demons and regular old humans that might want a piece of her. She was a light sleeper by necessity, and when she saw a few stakes sitting on a shelf, she didn’t hesitate to stuff one under her pillow. She knew Buffy’s place was probably warded up the asshole to keep out any unfriendlies, but something settled in her chest at holding a stake in her hand again, and having it close.
She figured that after the day she’d had, she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep—that her thoughts would keep her awake, and the adrenaline from not only seeing Buffy, but talking to her and seeing her again for at least a few days wouldn’t let her rest. But once she closed her eyes and tugged the blanket around her, she was asleep within seconds.