In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

That was the very motif that Buffy Summers found herself wishing would hold just a little more true at that moment in time. One Slayer, some vampires, stakes; occasionally a crossbow. Everything had been so much simpler back then, she told herself. Though she knew her life had really been far from that ideal for several years now, she didn't let that minor fact get in the way of her resentful musings. She had made one tiny mistake, and drowned for just a few minutes, but apparently death had not been punishment enough for her mishap. Now there she was, an apocalypse or two later, and Miss Mentally Unstable had blown into town ready to steal her boyfriend – OK, so ex-boyfriend, she begrudgingly corrected – and peel her skin off. First of all, ick, and secondly-

"Buffy?"

She vaguely heard the sound of her name push against her thoughts, but it wasn't enough to pull her from the internal rant. Like Angel would ever want Faith, even without his soul, she continued. There was only so much crazy a guy could take, and she was sure Faith had strolled way past that particular line.

"Buffy!"

This time the voice had been louder, more insistent, and her head shot up. "I'm listening!" She gave Giles what she considered to be her best wide-eyed, attentive look.

He was stood across the table from her, supporting himself with a hand either side of a weighty looking tome as he leaned forward. Buffy's eyes flicked from him to the book. The binding of the text was worn around the rim, but the paper itself looked surprisingly youthful from where she was sat. The pages were filled with symbols rather than words, and she was pretty sure Giles would be the only person in a good few hundred miles who would have any chance of understanding them. He had spent the last few hours digging through the book in search of – well, something. Buffy didn't really know what he was searching for, and she knew he didn't either. That was pretty much the problem.

It didn't take an ancient prophecy to know that Mayor Wilkins was up to something bad, but they were otherwise stuck in the dark. Buffy's suggestion that they wait for the mayor to make a revealing public service announcement had not gone down too well, but Giles' counter offer of a day of research wasn't exactly faring a whole lot better. So far it had been slow going, and that had given Buffy plenty of time to slip into her own world.

Giles stared at her through his circular lenses as if trying to read her thoughts. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Huh?" she offered back. Her mind took a few more seconds before it was able to fully rejoin her in the real world. "I'm fine."

"You were shuddering-"

"No I wasn't," Buffy interrupted. She paused for just a beat as she searched quickly for an alternative explanation. "It was a shiver. Cold. Brrr." She wrapped her arms around herself to demonstrate the claim. It was only then that she noticed her thin, rose-coloured tank-top; an item picked out due to the warm rays that had greeted her when she had awoken that morning. OK, so not the most believable thing she'd ever come out with, she thought to herself. She watched Giles' brow furrow as he opened his mouth to speak, but he found himself cut off before any words could make it out.

"Cold? Cold?" Xander questioned, his disbelief made obvious by the quickly rising octave of his voice. Sat to Buffy's right, and sprawled haphazardly across a chair, he looked as if merely lifting his head to meet her eyes was about all the energy he could muster. He was dressed in a baggy t-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo trousers that were unfashionably rolled up to his knees. "If it were any less cold then I'd have no choice but to strip off right here, right now, no matter what shame would most certainly follow."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at the quasi-serious expression on Xander's face before turning to share a look with Willow. Her best friend was sat to her left, busy staring across the table at Xander's chest area. Her mouth was open in what could best be described as a hopeful grin. When Willow's eyes finally caught Buffy's, her mouth went slack, and she promptly found something interesting on the table to study.

"Maybe if Giles here invested in some air-con," Xander continued, "then we wouldn't be risking our lives just by being locked away in this sauna." He pointed a finger accusingly at Giles. "Students have rights you know."

Giles offered him a weary look in return. "I think you'll find that this is not my school. Do feel free to bring up the issue with Principal Snyder though. Perhaps when he next catches you skipping your classes."

"It may not be your school, but this place is like your home away from home. Or maybe just your actual home." His pointed finger bobbed back and forth as he spoke, punctuating his words.

Willow, having seemingly regained her composure, looked up as she joined the affront. "It's true Giles. You're in here more than me, and apart from my bedroom ceiling I barely remember what my house looks like." A frown spread across her face as she finished her contribution.

Buffy wasn't eager to join in, and so she kept quiet, glad that the conversation had turned elsewhere. It wasn't as if she wanted to keep anything from them; she just wasn't in the mood to talk about it right then. Truth be told, last night's activities had left her feeling a little – OK, a lot wigged. She had known Faith was keeping something from her – more so than usual – but she was still having trouble believing that Faith was working for the mayor. And if that wasn't bad enough, Faith had also tried to turn Angel, and seemed far too eager to get in a few rounds of Buffy dissection.

Buffy knew that they hadn't been best-est buds, but after a rocky start she had thought they were getting along fine. Faith only turned up at school for the occasional sparring session, so they didn't hang out much during the day. At night they'd patrolled together though. Slew vampires, vanquished evil; that should count for something. So, she wondered, why the sudden anti-Buffy blow-out?

The raised voices in the room snapped her back from her thoughts. What had started as playful banter between her friends seemed to have elevated into loud bickering as the three of them talked feverishly over one another. She couldn't make out what they were arguing about, but nor did she have any real desire to know. "Guys!" Her raised voice was enough to gather their attentions. "Chill?"

The commotion died down almost instantly, and for a moment the library felt equal parts quiet and awkward.

"Err, sorry," Giles said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. For their parts, Willow and Xander opted to remain quiet, instead offering up sheepish looks in apology. Giles removed his glasses with one hand and ran the other back through his hair. "Buffy's right. I know this heatwave has everybody on edge, but we mustn't take it out on each other. Right now we need to maintain our focus on the mayor. Buffy?" He replaced his glasses and looked over at her. "We're getting nowhere fast with these books. Without some sort of direction we could be here all week and still end up none the wiser. Can you think of anything else Faith said which might allude as to what the mayor is planning?"

Buffy gave a half-hearted shrug. "I don't think so."

She had already given the guys the 4-1-1, hence the current library research session taking priority over Dr. Mills' Chemistry double. Sure, she had skipped over one or two parts, but there were some things that they just didn't need to know. Like how Faith had stuck her tongue down Angel's throat, or about her plans to play surgeon.

Trying to piece through the night's events was proving to be a challenge. In the beginning, as Buffy had played the part of the helpless victim, time had shifted unbearably slow as she and Angel waited for Faith to spill her dark secrets. Faith had been in no hurry though, more than happy to take the time to show her satisfaction over her apparent victory. Buffy tried to shake the image of a gloating Faith from the front of her mind so she could focus on what else had happened that night.

The ringing of Faith's phone – likely a new toy from the mayor – had prompted her to leave Buffy alone with Angel, and she briefly considered what a relief that had been. It didn't take long though before a previously lost detail tugged at her thoughts. Angel had used the opportunity to loosen the bonds on her arms, but her ears had stayed focused on Faith; go-go Slayer hearing. The phone call had been mostly one-sided, with Faith offering short answers to unheard questions. But there was one thing, she thought suddenly, her concentration deepening as she tried to persuade her mouth to form the word she was still searching out.

"Demkim!" she exclaimed with more excitement than was perhaps necessary. The outburst drew all eyes her way.

"You want to order Chinese?" Xander asked, earning himself a glare from Buffy. "I'll be shutting up now."

Giles was looking off to one side with an unfocused gaze, and his slightly parted lips formed a loose O shape.

It was a look that suggested the word may have rang a bell, but Buffy started to explain when there was no immediate response from her watcher. "Faith brought it up when she was on the phone. I'm pretty sure to the mayor. She asked how it – Demkim – was going. That mean anything to you?"

He looked down to her, back from his thoughts. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, taking a moment before he continued. "There was a brotherhood of demons back in the seventeen hundreds. They called themselves the Zhegia Demkim. They were a relatively peaceful tribe, at least as far as humanity was concerned, and few people ever had direct dealings with them. Their tenacious hoarding nature eventually earned them the title of 'The Keepers', by both humans and demons alike."

"Nobody likes a non-sharer," Xander said, shaking his head in mock disgust.

"What did they keep?" Willow asked. "Was it an impressive variety of fluffy bunnies?" she added with a hopeful, wide-eyed smile.

Giles frowned slightly in response to their light hearted remarks. "I'm not aware of the exact details – magical artefacts of some sorts. There are numerous rumours, but I dare say anybody who laid eyes on their wares didn't survive long enough to compose a complete inventory." The lines on his forehead seemed to crinkle further. "The thing is, despite their individual strengths they were quite meagre in number, and a bloody war with a more prominent demonic faction resulted in their demise before the turn of the nineteenth century. Everything I've read on the matter indicates that, realizing the battle was lost, a trio escaped for long enough to destroy everything in their possession."

"I'm guessing not everything," Buffy said. "I mean if the mayor is looking into them then something's got to be up right?"

"Yes, I would imagine so. I'll cross reference everything I have on them and see if any particular objects keep cropping up. Hopefully that will point us toward what the mayor is after, and, with any luck, provide some much needed insight into how to stop him." He didn't waste any time. Taking the book from the table, he carried it underarm as he took the stairs toward the stacks. Before he vanished from sight he turned to face the three drained teenagers.

Buffy felt his eyes on her, but pretended not to notice, instead letting her loose gaze stare at the carpet. She was aware that she'd been acting a little weird that morning, but hoped Giles would just overlook it as teenager stuff. Or Angel stuff; something she knew he had no genuine desire to discuss. He had never told her as much, but she saw the sorrow in his eyes when he came across any reminder of Ms. Calender. She knew he blamed Angel. Maybe even blamed her.

"Buffy?" he asked.

"Yeah?" she replied, only then raising her eyes to meet his.

"Perhaps you should take tonight off? Rest up after yesterday. I suspect even the undead are unlikely to be too anxious to rise from their graves if the weather remains this insufferable."

"Sure." She offered him a small smile which he returned before moving away between the bookshelves.

The lunch bell rang out, but neither Xander nor Willow looked to be making any kind of immediate move. Xander was slouched back in his chair once more, while Willow's head rested peacefully on crossed arms, the two of them showing minimal signs of life.

The offer of a graveyard-free night should have called for a get-together at The Bronze, but instead Buffy was confronted with the urge to curl up in a dark corner. Unlike Xander and Willow, the heat didn't have her down for the count. Her only concerns revolved around the previous night.

They had outed Faith, gotten a potential lead on the mayor's plans, and nobody had died. That should have been a victory for the good guys, but the unease in her stomach left her in no mood for celebration. She knew she'd been in this situation before, less than a year ago, and last time it had not gone well for any of them. Faith may not have lost her soul to a moment of happiness, but Buffy had somehow managed to make a dangerous enemy of her none the less.

Just like she hadn't seen it coming, she also had no idea what would happen next. But a deep-seated feeling of dread told her it wouldn't end well.

Buffy was perched atop a gravestone. Her legs absently swung back and forth as she eyed the freshly dug grave across from her. She knew she could count on Giles for many things, but she also knew she could count on the undead to rise even more. She had planned on taking his advice of a night off, but after spending several hours tossing and turning in bed, and having checked her alarm clock one too many times, late night slayage seemed like the best way to ease her tension.

She willed the vampire up from the ground as her boredom grew. She used to spend most of her nights there alone, though Giles, Willow and Xander would occasionally tag along, and there was a time when unplanned make-out sessions with Angel were a regular occurrence. Mostly though, it was just her and the undead. It wasn't exactly the pinnacle of late night entertainment, but she had gotten used to it.

Over the past month she had been sharing slaying duty with Faith, and right then she missed the company. Conversation with Faith was peculiar. She'd heard energetically told tales of slain foes in gory levels of detail, and been told more about the girl's private life than she had ever needed to know. Yet somehow Faith had managed to not really tell Buffy anything about herself. Buffy was no stranger to the notion of secrecy, but Faith was a closed book. The antique journal type that came with a lock but no key. Then again, she thought bitterly, perhaps that's how people acted when they were spying for the enemy.

That single thought was enough to raise her anger level considerably, though the sound of scratching from beneath the ground still brought a small smile to her face. About time, she thought, as a hand shot up through the dirt. A second hand followed, and soon the vampire had pulled itself free from its grave. It had the appearance of a college student, and a frat boy at that. Buffy found it odd that the guy had been buried in a flowery shirt and long shorts, but she'd seen all kinds. Its long bleach blonde locks had easily picked up the dirt, which really put the boots in to its over-thought surfer look.

It noticed her instantly, looking her up and down hungrily as a grin spread over its face. "Gnarly. Breakfast's here already."

"Not so much," Buffy replied as she jumped to her feet.

She pulled her stake from her waistband, and the grin left its face instantly. "Woah there, wait, I was just kid-"

A front kick cut off the vampire's words as she sent it flying into the side of a nearby crypt. It hit the stone hard and flopped straight down to the floor. "That was way uncalled for," it said as it gingerly made its way back to its feet.

"Oh, it was called for," Buffy said as she strode toward it. "You know what's not called for?"

It swung a hand at her, but she easily avoided it, and retaliated with a punch of her own, twisting its head to one side.

"Sneaking around behind people's backs," she said angrily, throwing her other fist into the vampire's stomach.

"Betraying your friends." An uppercut snapped its head backwards. "Stealing other people's boyfriends."

Its eyebrows rose questioningly. "Huh? But I'm not even-"

A roundhouse kick sent it flying again, this time into a gravestone, and the momentum took it straight over to land face first into the soil.

"This is totally a case of mistaken identity," came its complaining voice after a moment, muffled by the ground.

Buffy closed the gap before it had a chance to do anything else, pulling it onto its back and gripping it around the neck. She raised her stake in the air.

"Whoa, wait, wait!" it pleaded against her grip as its hands raised defensively. "I think I know what's going on here, and I can totally help you deal."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused, but she gave it a moment to explain itself. After all, she had nowhere else to be.

"Yeah," it began again, its voice sounding more confident. "You and your friend had a falling out, right? Well I know this guy. He can totally score you some weed, and I mean the good shit. Then you two can get together, chillax, and like, talk this stuff out."

Buffy raised the stake higher.

"Whoa, OK, no weed, no weed. That's cool, I get that. Maybe you just need to like..." Its voice trailed off for a moment. "I dunno, maybe count to ten or something?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. That was a trick that had really never worked for her. She plunged the stake down through its heart, and its eyes opened wide.

"So not cool," it managed before it turned to dust.

Buffy stood and patted her trousers clean. That had made her feel a little better, though the adrenaline was still rushing through her, and she wished she had seen more fresh graves when she had done the rounds. Unfortunately she was left with little else to do but return home.

Or was she.

An idea was fast forming in her head, and she knew instantly that it was a bad one. She knew that Giles would definitely not approve. She also knew that had never stopped her before.

Besides, the vampire hadn't been completely wrong: there was definitely some stuff that needed a good talking out.

----------

It was approaching two in the morning as Buffy found herself creeping down a dimly lit hallway. She walked softly, trying to no avail to suppress the squeaks of the old floorboards, and she winced each time one cried out. This place is actually more depressing than the graveyard, she thought. She had been there before, but had never paid much attention to the surroundings. Taking in the details for the first time – as many smashed lamps as lit ones, a sickly smell rising from the remains of the carpet beneath her feet, dark stains adorning the walls – she wondered how Faith could live there. It took a moment before it occurred to her that there had probably been little choice in the matter.

Faith had shown up in Sunnydale alone. No family, no watcher, and nowhere to go. In comparison, Buffy had a caring mother, a place to stay, and friends she knew she could count on. She pictured Faith there, all alone, as she recalled her temporary flight to Los Angeles. She remembered how hard it had been to drag herself out of bed to go to work every morning when she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and forget everything. She remembered how draining it had been, even as her café shifts ended, knowing she would return to nothing but a grotty motel room where no one would be waiting for her.

Was that Faith's life in Sunnydale? It hadn't crossed her mind before, but now she questioned why she had never invited Faith around for dinner and a movie, or to The Bronze with her friends. She loved her friends and family; they gave her the strength she needed in her endless battle. Without them-

She didn't even want to consider the notion.

Buffy was stood at her destination, only a single, scratched-up wooden door standing between herself and Faith's room. The last time she had been there she had found Faith on her knees, furiously scrubbing blood from her clothes. This time she didn't know what to expect, or even how to make her entrance. Her first instinct was to put her foot straight through the door. The noise would probably wake any neighbours, but the place didn't seem the type where people would investigate. It would also leave Faith with no time to prepare an ambush or escape. On the other hand, it was almost guaranteed to put Faith straight on the defensive; not a good idea if Buffy wanted to talk.

Is that what she was there for, she asked herself. Her plan had pretty much boiled down to 'Go to Faith's place'. It wasn't the most cunning idea ever concocted, but it had seemed good enough at the time. As she stood in front of the final barrier though, she had no idea what to do next. Violence was not the intention of her visit – even if Faith had deserved at least one solid punch – but she was unsure of how to confront her. Would Faith even listen to her? Or would fists start flying before she got the chance to speak? She found herself questioning just how easily it could get out of hand, and she considered turning around whilst there was still time.

One way or another it was going to happen though, she realized. Whether it was then or in a week's time. Sunnydale wasn't huge, and they wouldn't avoid each other forever. At least the late night visit was on her own terms, and she didn't have to worry about the mayor interfering or her friends being caught in the crossfire. It was probably the best chance she was going to get.

Feeling sufficiently reassured, she cast aside the idea of a forceful entry and instead took a firm hold of the doorknob. She took a deep breath and then slowly turned the grip. Her pulse quickened as the latch clicked. The door crept slowly open. Her eyes scanned the interior as dim light from the hallway flowed into the room.

Nothing, she thought. Not literally empty, but close enough, and certainly no Faith. She moved her arm up the wall until her fingers found the light switch. Her eyes squinted as a much brighter light shone into them. It took a few moments to adjust before she was able to give the room a more thorough going over. The bed was not in use; nothing but rips left covering the single mattress. Empty hangers were all that remained in the open wardrobe. A single knee-high bedside cabinet was the only other piece of furniture in the room, and Buffy made her way over to it.

Pulling the solitary drawer open revealed a bottle opener and an Italian takeaway menu. Beer and a pizza struck her as typical Faith food – not that she was a master chef herself – but she had hoped for something a little more revealing; a forwarding address wouldn't have hurt. She angrily shoved the drawer shut again, and it gave a small, uncaring thud in reply. She had fully expected to find Faith waiting, and she had given no consideration to any other outcome. Maybe it really was for the best, but for some reason she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"Damnit, Faith," she said out loud. "Where are you?"

----------

Giles clearly did not understand the importance of sleep, Buffy thought to herself as she pushed open the library door. She had made it to bed just after three that morning, returning home straight from Faith's old room. It had been later still when she'd finally drifted to sleep, and it hadn't lasted nearly long enough. Giles called her before seven, and he was adamant that they spoke before school began. So there she was, her mind split between what news Giles might have had and just how bad the bags under her eyes must have looked. She suspected neither answer would provide a comforting start to the day.

No sooner had she stepped inside, Giles appeared from inside the book cage. "Ahh, Buffy. Thank God."

"You know, Giles," she began, before he had a chance to bombard her with information. "Even Slayers need the occasional lie in." She didn't receive a smile or a comment back, and she noted his solemn look and tired eyes. "Say, you weren't by any chance up all night as well were you?"

"I wish that were the problem," he replied dryly before speaking with more energy. "Listen. I found something about our extinct-"

"We found something!" came a voice from the cage. Significant emphasis had been placed on the 'we', and Buffy instantly recognised both the voice and the source of Giles' new found pain. His eyes portrayed a beaten man as Wesley stepped out beside him. Looking far more perky than Giles, Wesley offered Buffy a wide grin which she didn't return, though it had no effect on his obvious joy.

"Last night we begun our research into the Zhegia Demkim." Wesley began, his voice filled with the level of drama usually reserved for reading a child a bedtime story. "As the hours passed it began to look bleak. Giles was on the verge of giving up for the night, but being the younger watcher I was wide awake-"

"Giles," Buffy interrupted, diverting her gaze from Wesley. "What did you find?"

"We find!" Wesley piped up, once again emphasising the collaboration.

She noticed Giles clench his fists, and she offered him a sympathetic look before trying again. "What did the two of you find?"

Wesley stayed silent, seemingly contempt with her alteration, and Giles used the opportunity to explain. "Wesley found a reference to a set of crystals thought to have been in the hands of The Keepers. I cross-referenced the accompanying sketch, and it seems they are The Shards of Ursula. They were created by a powerful witch coven, and each individual crystal is thought to possess significant mystical energy."

"Not good," Buffy surmised.

"Very much not, but it gets worse."

"Of course it does." Yep, really not a great start to the day, she thought.

"With all three crystals, any adept owner would possess the power to perform just about any spell they please. Psychokinesis. Regeneration. Transmutation."

"They'd be pretty much unstoppable?" Buffy asked, though she knew the question was unnecessary.

"It would seem so."

"OK, well, no biggie. So we just find them first?" she asked hopefully.

"Ideally, yes. Unfortunately The Keepers did a rather good job of hiding the shards. They haven't been seen for quite some time. However-"

"I found one!" Wesley declared, bringing an exasperated sigh from Giles. "Hidden in plain sight, as it were, at Sunnydale's very own Natural History Museum. Handily transferred in from a place in Montgomery just last night."

Seeing how pleased Wesley looked with himself, Buffy wondered just how hard he had fought with himself to keep that information quiet until then. "So it looks like I'm going on a pre-school trip." She frowned as she considered her poor choice of words.

"I think it would be best if you waited until after dark," Giles said, obviously aware of her intended meaning. "The museum will be well populated during the day, and a failed burglary attempt could bring the item to the attention of the mayor."

"Then it's a plan!" Wesley said. "Tonight Buffy shall go to the museum, extract the shard, and then return it to us straight away. Meanwhile, we shall remain here and find a method to destroy it."

"We?" Giles asked, his voice strained.

Buffy took that as her cue to split. "Well guys, I better get to class. But have fun." She aimed the final words at Giles, whose eyes widened in alarm.

"B-B-But class doesn't start for at least another hour. Perhaps you should stay a-a-and h-help." He gave her a pleading look.

"What can I say, Giles? When it comes to schoolwork, I'm an eager beaver. Besides, you two have totally got this covered." After taunting Giles with a purposefully over-enthusiastic smile, she turned and headed for the exit.

"Righty-oh then, a cup of tea before we begin?"

Buffy heard Wesley's enthused words as she made her escape. She wasn't sure if it was only her imagination, but she could have sworn she also made out a soft whimper as the library door swung shut behind her.

Buffy's knees bent as she landed on the floor. She stayed crouched as she listened for any sign of unwanted company. Hearing and sensing nothing, and spotting no sign of life in the moonlit room, she straightened fully. She had opted for a black-all-over look consisting of a plain sleeveless vest, boot-cut cotton trousers, and a pair of flat boots in case she needed to make a speedy getaway. She had stopped just short of a ski-mask, but mostly because she didn't own one.

Getting inside had been straight-forward enough. From a back alleyway she had made it on to the roof thanks to the rimmed pillars which helped support the old building. They offered enough in the way of makeshift footholds for her to pull herself up. From there, forcing open one of the highly placed windows had been easy. As she looked back up at her entrance it was obvious she would need another way out; the window loomed far too high overhead.

First though, she needed to find the shard. Given how small the town was, the size of the museum was really quite impressive. She wondered just how many of the items on show were demonic in origin. Probably all of them, being Sunnydale and all, she pessimistically guessed. She was only there for one thing though, and so the hunt began.

As she carefully snuck through the museum, she wondered when petty theft had become part of the Slayer job description. Though after picturing Giles stuck alone with Wesley, weeping softly into his tea, she decided that skulking around in the dark like Catwoman was definitely the preferable option.

Having already wandered across bones, stone tablets and more, Buffy then found herself in a large room containing a number of jewellery-filled displays. Her eyes roamed over each piece until she caught sight of a palm-sized gemstone. Its appearance was similar to that of a white sapphire. A faint light pulse from the inside, and Buffy felt the back of her neck tingle. She released a small shudder and took an instinctive step back from the crystal. That had to be it, she thought. Something about it was felt powerful and dark, and the thought of even touching it left her uneasy.

A quiet tapping in the distance heightened her senses, and she stood perfectly still as she focused on the noise. Footsteps, she realized, and they were heading her way. Hoping to avoid any run-ins with security, she urgently looked around for a hiding place. An overhanging platform at one side of the room seemed her best option. There was no direct route to it, but she warily climbed on top of a nearby display case, half expecting it to give way beneath her. Pleasantly surprised when it didn't, she leapt up and gripped the edge of the platform. After pulling herself up, she swung herself around to lay facing the museum floor.

As the footsteps grew louder it became obvious that there were more than one set, but she couldn't make out the exact number. They were nearby when they came to a stop, and very slowly she peeked over the edge of the balcony. Five people stood at the southern entrance to the room. She quickly ducked her head when she caught one's face, and she hoped she hadn't been spotted. They weren't people; they were vampires. She laid motionless, listening to her quiet heartbeat as she waited to find out if her reactions had been fast enough.

When nothing pounced on her after a few moments she let out a relieved breath. Her ears focused on the sounds of the vampires moving about below, and she mentally tracked their positions as she began to plan. They had split up, probably to search the room, so she could get the drop on one and dust it quickly. That would leave four – not straight forward, but a number she was sure she could handle. She kept her arm tucked low as her hand slid back to retrieve the stake from her waistband.

"Alright boys, this looks like the last one."

Buffy's arm froze in its tracks. Her pulse accelerated. It was Faith.

She knew the odds had just become stacked against her in a big way. Taking on Faith plus help would not end well, but if she stayed hidden then they were going to walk right out of there with the shard. At that moment she registered the actual content of the words – was the mayor almost three for three? That really did leave her with no other option, and so she composed herself as she took a firm hold of her stake. The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the room. She rose to a low crouch as she positioned herself ready to spring down onto an unsuspecting vampire.

"Excuse me. I don't believe that belongs to you."

Buffy hadn't heard anyone else approach, far too focused on the current problem, and she instantly flattened herself down again. Chancing another look down below, she found not a security guard as she had expected, but instead a smartly dressed man in trousers, a shirt and a stuffy looking suit jacket. He looked middle-aged, and she found the relaxed expression on his face odd given the circumstances. It was obvious he had no idea what he had just walked into.

Faith's lips curled into a smile before she responded. "Funny, cause I'm thinking it pretty much does." There was an amused edge to her otherwise casual voice. "Oh, and you might wanna think about running right about now. I'll even give you a head start."

Do it, Buffy mentally prompted the man, but he looked in no hurry to leave – perhaps too scared, or ignorant, to move. Faith gave a nearby vampire – the only other female in the group – a brief look, and it slowly stalked toward who Buffy had mentally pegged as a curator. Knowing the man was about to become dinner, Buffy inched along the wooden boards as fast as she could manage without giving herself away pre-emptively. By the time the vampire had reached him, she had positioned herself within pouncing distance.

The man's arms shot up before she could make a move, and his hands wrapped around the throat of the vampire. Before it had time to get over its shock, the hands twisted, and Buffy winced at the sound of cracking bones. The vampire slumped, turning to dust as it hit the floor. Buffy looked over to Faith, whose eyebrows had shot up above widened eyes. Buffy suspected her own face wore a similarly surprised expression.

Turning back to the man, Buffy watched as his body began to bulge. His clothes were forced apart, tearing at the seams as his limbs grew in size. His skin seemed to melt away as it stretched, revealing a tough-looking maroon exterior covered in near-black veins. The once human face contorted and re-shaped, a broad forehead and equally wide chin producing a square looking form. A large snout, resemblant of that of a cow, took up the majority of the unappealing face, leaving barely enough space for two black, slit eyes and a thin but wide mouth. Short, sharp-looking claws poked out of beefy fingers on its large hands. Buffy was willing to bet that it was one of the Keepers, not quite as extinct as she had been led to believe. She was also quite sure the thing had never been on a date.

With the transformation complete, the beast gave a loud snort. Faith and the remaining three vampires hadn't moved, seemingly too engrossed in the display to think about doing anything. The noise from the demon brought one of the vampires to life though. A bulky looking twenty-something year old – formerly, at least – bared its fangs as it charged forward. Fingers first, the Keeper's hand plunged straight into the vampire's chest, easily sinking through both tissue and bone. A brief howl of agony was quickly replaced by a second pile of dust.

The remaining two vampires exchanged frightened looks, and together, without so much as a word, they turned in unison to the other exit and ran. Faith looked over her shoulder, watching their retreat, before returning her attention to the demon. Rather then flee herself, she reached behind her back and produced a large knife. The handle curled intimately around her hand. The blade itself must have been ten inches long, and it gleamed as it caught the moonlight that shone down through the windows. Faith's eyes gave no sign of fear or intimidation as she stared across the room at the Keeper.

"Well let's get this party started," she said, and with an arrogant confidence she strode toward it.

Again the demon waited until it was approached before striking, this time attacking with a sideways slash aimed at Faith's head. She was not as rash as the vampire had been though, and she leaned backward just enough to avoid the swipe. In retaliation she thrust her blade toward its neck. Its other arm shot up, deflecting the blow before the knife could make contact. Faith kicked one leg out, catching it in the stomach. Following up quickly, she jumped as she brought her other foot around toward the demon's head. The demon sidestepped to its left with impressive speed given its size, and Faith was left kicking thin air. She landed awkwardly to the side of the demon, and received a strike to her right kidney from a big, balled fist. Buffy saw her flinch, but Faith kept moving. She dived into a forward roll in time to leave the demon's other fist flying narrowly past her back.

Buffy observed the battle from above, watching every move intently. She had seen how reckless Faith could be in a fight, and had taken issue with the girl's gung ho attitude in the past. There though, Faith seemed to display more caution. Perhaps the way the Keeper had easily dispatched of the two vampires had put her in a more defensive mood, Buffy thought.

Her gaze moved over to the broken display case. The earlier interruption had left the shard still in place, and its soft, almost mesmerising glow was visible even from afar. Buffy contemplated a new approach: if she waited until the right moment she could drop down, grab the shard, and get out of there without being noticed. For the moment though, her eyes were drawn back to the fight as Faith rushed at the Keeper.

The demon lashed out once more, but Faith went low, sliding across the ground and planting the base of her foot right into the demon's knee. The force was enough to bring an angry roar from its gaping mouth. It stumbled back, and Faith pressed further, bouncing up quickly to deliver a spinning side kick to its sternum. Its arms shot out as it tried to steady itself, leaving itself exposed. Faith arced her knife around and down, the blade cutting deep across the side of the demon's face. A dark liquid ran from the laceration as it reeled farther away. Unable to keep its balance, it toppled down on to its back.

Another loud roar filled the room, and as the sound died away a bright flash caught Buffy's eye. Turning her head to the source, she watched as the shard pulsed brighter now, emitting swirling wisps of light into the air. It spread from the source like a gas, filling out and rising at the same time. Particles clumped together at the far side of the room, thickening quickly as a shape began to form. The swirls became smaller and smaller, causing the outline to become more rigid and defined. Even before they suddenly dispersed, fading as they were pushed outward, Buffy could make out the form that it had both taken and left behind. It was another Keeper. Its frame was smaller in size, but the lingering scars that covered its body suggested a past filled with many hard-fought victories.

Faith seemed completely unaware of the event, her focus remaining committed to the original Keeper. Back on its feet and poised to attack, its mouth formed an eerie smirk. Obviously unconcerned, Faith moved in with a flurry of kicks. The demon had learnt quickly, and it took a more defensive approach, batting away each attack as it stood its ground. Faith must have sensed something, because she suddenly stopped her attack and spun around. It was too late though; an uppercut from the new arrival was a direct hit to her jaw, and she staggered back. From behind, the larger demon took advantage, slashing its claws across her back. She gave a small cry as her back and shoulders visibly tensed, and she scrambled sideways to prevent another attack.

Still undetected, Buffy noticed both demons had their back to the shard as they moved in on Faith, and she realized she could easily go for the grab and dash. No sooner had that thought finished, she felt her face flush. What the hell was she thinking, she scolded herself. If she just left then she could easily be reading about the discovery of Faith's mutilated body in the paper the next morning. She watched as the demons positioned themselves to corner Faith, and without further hesitation she pushed herself to her feet.

Only after stepping to the edge ready to jump did she feel the presence behind her. Turning, she found herself face to face with another Keeper. Its fist flashed forward and, even as she raised her arms in defence, she took an instinctive step back to lessen the contact. She realized the mistake instantly, but it was too late to recover. Her foot found only air, and she began to fall. Unable to adjust herself mid-air, her back slammed hard into the floor, and she let out a pained groan.

The thin rug beneath her felt like little consolation as she lay there in shock. Pain racked her spine, and she arched her back from the ground, taking some relief that she was still able to move it. The demon glared down at her from above.

"Oh right," she muttered, as Giles' tale from the previous day surfaced in her mind. "Trio."

The distraction hadn't gone quite as planned, but none the less the two Keepers closing in on Faith had stopped dead, their eyes now focused on Buffy. Faith's look, a combination of raised eyebrows and an amused smirk, indicated that she must have seen the somewhat undignified entrance. Faith's attention didn't last long, and Buffy watched her make good use of the opening. Racing forward, Faith plunged her dagger straight into the back of the smaller demon, eliciting a nauseating roar of pain from the creature. A sharp twist of the wrist and the roar faded fast.

Seeing that Faith was now back in control, Buffy's attention returned to her own problem. Looking up, she saw the Keeper leap, and she barely rolled out the way as it came down beside her. She spun her leg around, kicking its feet from under it and sending it to the ground. Gingerly she got to her feet, wincing as another sharp jolt of pain rose through her back. The discomfort had slowed her down, and before she could capitalize the demon was also back up and on the attack.

She ducked a swing aimed at her face and retaliated with a punch of her own, catching the demon square in the head. It growled and surged forward; the sudden burst of speed took her by surprise. Its shoulder barged into her chest, the momentum driving her straight through a tall display case and into the solid stone wall behind it. She felt needle-like pricks across her back as shards of smashed glass dug into her skin. The demon's hand grasped her throat as it loomed over her, and the strong hold cut off her air supply.

Buffy reached for her stake, but came up empty handed. She must have lost it during her fall, she realized. Instead she pushed her palm into the demon's face as she tried to shove it away. When it refused to budge she dug her nails deep into its skin, clawing chunks of rigid flesh from its cheek. That seemed to do little more than anger the demon, and the grip around her neck squeezed tighter still.

She began to panic as her lungs begged for air. Clutching the demon's wrist with both hands, she tried to pry it away. From her awkward position she couldn't gain enough leverage to break the grip, and her worries intensified as her vision began to blur.

She was running out of time.

As she felt the strength begin to leave her body, Buffy couldn't help but wonder if it would be the end. Could one mistake be all it took? She knew the risks, but she had always tried to avoid dwelling on them. She wasn't ready to die, but the Keeper didn't share her aspirations.

Unexpectedly her throat opened, and she desperately gasped in short bursts of air. The demon's grip had loosened, and she used the opportunity to force the clawed hand from her neck. She strafed away, giving herself time to catch her breath. She wiped away the tears that clouded her vision and then watched as the demon reached around and pulled something from its back. Faith's knife. She glanced across the room, seeing that Faith had already returned to her one remaining foe, relying only on her fists to do any damage.

Buffy found herself stuck somewhere between shocked and confused as she tried to shake herself back to life. With no time to fully consider Faith's aid, she focused on the demon as it forcefully threw the blade to the floor and advanced. She ran at it with intense speed, fuelled by a surge of adrenaline, and she rolled under its swing at the last moment to come up on the other side with Faith's knife clutched in her hand. It turned, and she lashed out angrily, striking the Keeper straight across the throat. Black ooze gargled from the deep wound as it charged once more. That time she was prepared. She stepped to her side and aimed a kick into the back off the demon's knee as it passed by. It dropped to one leg, and then its momentum took over to topple it to the floor.

She pounced before it had time to recover, driving the blade deep into the demon's back. The injury to its throat blocked any outcry, but it made no difference. Moments later it lay still, and Buffy had to take a few seconds to steady her pounding heart before she retrieved the dagger. She had to get one of these, she thought to herself as she gave the weapon a quick once over.

Satisfied that her enemy wasn't about to make a sudden resurgence, and with her breathing mostly back under control, she turned to find Faith atop of the final demon. Her fists took turns hammering blows into its head. Its arms flailed wildly as it tried to suppress the assault, but for every blow it avoided another struck hard, and Faith didn't look like she was about to get bored.

“Faith,” Buffy called out. When Faith looked over, Buffy tossed the dagger across the room. Faith's hand shot up and caught it with ease, a wicked smile coming across her face as her head turned away. She brought the knife down hard, straight between the Keeper's eyes. It was dead long before it could utter any complaints.

Faith pulled out the dagger, and after looking over the gunk covered weapon she wiped both sides clean on the demon's stomach. She jumped back quickly, giving the demon space as it started to sizzle. Smoke rose from its body as the skin crisped. Hardened flakes separated from one another until the shrinking pieces left nothing visible to the eye. Buffy looked around to find the other two demons disappearing in a similar fashion.

Faith took a few steps toward her before coming to a stop. A good twenty feet still separated the two of them, and Buffy was fine with it staying that way. Buffy waited, feeling a sense of relief when Faith sheathed the dagger behind her back. She watched Faith's eyes as they slowly ran down her body before flicking back up to meet her own.

“Hey, B. Digging the colour scheme,” she said coolly.

Faith was clad in just as much black as Buffy, though with leather trousers, long boots, and a low cut top visible behind an open denim jacket, Buffy thought the girl looked less worried about stealth and more so about an upcoming rave. She also noticed that Faith had been caught at least one more time by the Keeper's claws; three strips of denim hung limp from the right arm of her jacket. A sly grin ran over Faith's mouth as she stood waiting.

“Faith,” Buffy finally offered back in acknowledgement. Despite having spent the previous 48 hours with Faith placed at the core of her thoughts, Buffy had spent so little of that time deciding what exactly she should say when the two of them next met. Out of time, and with no idea how to follow up, she regretted that oversight.

Faith didn't seem to share her dilemma. “Gotta say, didn't expect to see you here. Thought you'd be out fighting the good fight. You know, saving damsels, or beating up the bad guys.” She paused for a second. “Or maybe that is why you're here.” Her grin grew wider, the already bright whites of her teeth standing out in sharp contrast against the darkened room.

“I didn't come here to fight you.” Buffy kept her voice neutral. The tone behind the accusation sounded playful, but she wanted to dismiss the idea from Faith's heads altogether.

“Really? So how should we do this then?” She gestured a thumb out toward the remains of the shard's display case. “Wanna flip for it? I'll let you call.”

The cocky demeanour grated on Buffy, but she refused to take the bait. “You know I can't let you take that,” she said simply.

“Think you can stop me?”

Buffy thought she heard a hint of contempt, and she was unsure just how serious Faith's question was meant to be. “This isn't a game. If you take that to Wilkins then a lot of innocent people are going to die,” she reasoned, worried that things could get out of hand quicker than even her mental scenarios had anticipated.

“Oh boo-hoo, B.” Faith's eyebrows shot closer together, the look of disgust on her face leaving Buffy feeling uneasy. “People die all the time, and we know better than most that nobody is all that innocent.”

“Is that what you tell yourself, Faith? Is that how you sleep at night?”

A short, incredulous laugh rose from Faith's throat. “Hey, I sleep fine at night. The place I'm staying at now? Never slept better.”

Another wide grin from Faith put Buffy's composure to the test. She couldn't tell if Faith really didn't care about anyone but herself, or if the uncaring bravado was the first line of defence. She hoped it was the latter. It was that or admit there was nothing she could do. She shook her head. “I don't believe that.”

“Believe what you want, B, but I'm five by five here. New place, new clothes, and you should see my ride. She's a beast.”

Faith seemed elated with her new position, and Buffy couldn't help but begin second-guessing herself. She had somehow gotten the idea in her head that she was going to talk to Faith and they were just going to work things out – crisis averted. It was naïve to think it would be that straight forward, and she knew it, but it was the belief that she could do something that kept her going. Faith's nonchalant approach to the situation was quickly eating away at that belief.

“So is that it all it takes? Someone throws you a bag of gold and you ask how high?”

The look of mild amusement on Faith's face was her only response, and it was enough to falter Buffy's resolve. “You're pathetic, Faith. I thought there was more to you than whore for hire, but I guess I gave you too much credit.”

Buffy regretted the harshness of the words as soon as she heard them out loud. She had been after a reaction of some sort. Something other than quips and throwaway remarks; a sign to show that Faith still cared.

Well, she'd certainly gotten something. Faith's fists clenched as she took a step forward. Her eyes glared. Buffy tensed, but stood her ground. She realized she had gone too far, and hoped she hadn't pushed Faith further away. “Fai-”

“You don't know the first thing about me!” Faith yelled, interrupting Buffy's intended withdrawal. All signs of wisecracking had been firmly cast aside. Faith lowered her voice, though the hard edge remained. “And you've made it perfectly clear you don't want me around, so how about you stay the hell out of my life.”

Buffy's brow furrowed at the accusation. “That's not true. I've never thought that.” As far as she was concerned, that was the truth. There had certainly been times when she'd fought with Faith, and when space from one another had felt like the only thing keeping them from coming to blows, but she had never truly wanted her to go away for good.

Faith snorted out a short burst of laughter. “Really? You've hated me since day one. Let's face it, the only reason we're even talking is because once again Faith is screwing up your perfect little life.” Anger punctuated her final words, but her doleful eyes relayed a more complex mix of emotions.

Buffy shook her head. “My life is far from perfect, believe me.”

“It's better than mine.” Faith's words were barely above a whisper, fatigue showing through the anger. She opened her mouth looking to continue, but then closed it again as she swallowed hard.

Buffy was taken aback by the unexpected admission. Unsure of how to respond, she stood in silence as Faith visibly struggled to steady herself. She half expected the girl to break down in tears, and she felt so completely useless as she stared. The silence was unbearable, and she desperately wished she could find the right words. She had given comfort to Willow, Xander, even Giles in the past; everything just seemed so difficult when it came to Faith. Even on a good day Faith was defensive, her walls standing tall enough to keep everyone out. Or maybe, Buffy admitted to herself, she had never tried hard enough to get over them.

“He's the only person who's ever cared,” Faith said finally, her hands fidgeting by her sides as her gaze focused on the floor. The thinnest of smiles made its way to her face, and even that was a contrast to the pain displayed in her eyes. “Who's ever believed in me,” Faith finished, and Buffy felt her heart sink.

“He's using you, Faith. As soon as the mayor gets what he wants he'll toss you aside.” The words weren't meant to hurt Faith, but Buffy couldn't let her believe the mayor's lies. She wouldn't let him pull Faith away.

Faith's eyes looked up, catching her own. “Just like everyone else.”

Buffy didn't sense self pity in the words, but she understood the implied accusation and wasn't willing to let it lie. “That's bull and you know it. I don't know what exactly I've done to piss you off, but this isn't the way to go about fixing it. If I've wronged you so much then take it out on me. I'm right here.”

She took a tentative step forward, and despite her firm words she watched Faith cautiously, praying that the girl wouldn't accept the invitation. Concerned that she might, Buffy didn't wait long before she continued in a softer tone, her eyes remaining glued to Faith's. “It's your life so they're your choices, and no one can make them for you. But no matter what you think, I'm here for you, Faith. I can help you, but only if you let me.”

“No, B, you can't,” Faith said. “No-one can.” There was no challenge or aggression in her words. Only a resigned acceptance.

Buffy slowly took another step forward, not wanting to give Faith the wrong idea and risk a more physical altercation. “You're wrong. It's not too late. Whatever you're going through, whatever you've been through, it can get better. But it takes time.”

Faith watched her, motionless but for her hands fidgeting with one another, and Buffy continued forward. Faith's lips moved as if trying to form words, but there was no audible sound.

“You two, stop right there!” came a loud, commanding voice from behind Buffy.

She had only halved the distance between them before the words brought her to a halt. Faith did just the opposite – she shot to life, moving instinctively across the ground to the Shard of Ursula and plucking it from its stand.

“Freeze, now!” The tone was hard; the warning unmistakable. Faith stood by the broken display, making no sign of any further movement as she clutched the shard in her hand. Buffy slowly turned her head to look behind her. Two police officers stood off to her left. One looked to be in his late twenties, and his hand was by his belt, his fingers resting lightly on his gun. The officer that had spoken was older, and looked to be the one in charge. He had already unholstered his weapon, and the barrel was pointed squarely at Faith.

“Put it down,” he said firmly. “Then slowly kneel down on the ground.”

Buffy felt uneasy when she returned to face Faith, not at all liking what she found. Faith's eye were bold, a look of defiance aimed at the officer. After a moment her eyes focused on Buffy, softening as she offered a sad smile. Buffy knew what was coming, and she shook her head as her eyes pleaded with Faith. “Don't.”

“I'm sorry, B,” came Faith's whispered reply, the gentle words seeming sincere to Buffy's ears.

Then she ran.

Buffy looked over her shoulder. She watched as the officer's gun trailed Faith's movements across the room. Her eyes widened as his finger tightened on the trigger.

“No!” she shouted, swiftly turning and stepping toward the officer without thought. His arms came around, abandoning the target of Faith and aiming the gun at her instead. She stopped on the spot, very slowly raising her hands in surrender. Her pulse raced, and she felt every beat of her pounding heart.

The officer kept his eyes – and gun – locked on her as he instructed his partner. “Go after the other one. I've got this.” Without a word the other man took off, heading out of Buffy's sight. “Keep your arms up and do not move.” He stressed each syllable clearly as he moved forward. One hand kept his weapon focused on her while the other reached down and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

As soon as he was in reach, Buffy acted. Her left hand shot out quickly, pushing the gun away. At the same time her other one swung at the officer's head, and the clean strike sent him to the ground. He lay there, perfectly still, and panic filled her lungs. Bending down, she placed two fingers over the artery on his neck. A long, relieved breath escaped her body as she felt his slow pulse, and she allowed herself to close her eyes for just a second.

Certain that Faith had gotten enough of a head start to escape both her and the cop, she decided she shouldn't stick around either. She ran in the direction the officers had entered, hoping it would lead her to the main entrance. She couldn't help but worry as she ran down the corridor. She had just assaulted a police officer, having first been caught breaking, entering and attempting to steal from the museum. On top of that she had also lost Faith, and the shard to boot.

“Well that could have gone better,” she conceded to herself. Though when she considered how it had almost ended, she realized that it could also have been a lot worse.

As she strolled through barely lit streets on her way back to school, in no real hurry to get there, Buffy found herself with far too much time for reflection. She tried to make sense of everything that had happened, but only came to the conclusion that there was none to be found. Whatever the deal was between her and Faith, she didn't understand it. Why did Faith bother to help her if she was just going to split with the shard? Was it some sort of last ditch effort to keep their friendship alive, or did some remaining shred of humanity just get in the way? They were questions she had no way of answering, but that didn't mean she could stop herself from asking them.

“Buffy.”

She recognised the voice that interrupted her thoughts, and she barely managed to stop in time to avoid bumping straight into Angel. He was stealthy by nature, and blended easily into the dark night, but the truth was she was simply too preoccupied to pay her surroundings much attention.

“Hey.” She wasn't thrilled to see him. Things couldn't get a whole lot more awkward between the two of them. It had been bad since his return, but it had worsened once Buffy told him they couldn't be together, bringing an end to – well, whatever it was they had. She realized she hadn't even given him much thought over the last few days; her mind had been otherwise engaged. That would have been nice were her other problems not equally frustrating.

“How are you?” he asked.

She gave a lazy shrug. Did he want the short answer or the long one? “I'm OK.”

“What are you doing out here?” He looked around as if to demonstrate the need for his question. They weren't close to her usual haunts – there weren't any cemeteries for at least two blocks.

“You know, the usual. Stopping the big bad from destroying Sunnydale. Of course Faith messed up that plan.”

“Faith?” he asked.

“Oh yeah. She shows up completely out of the blue, and I tried the whole olive branch thing, but instead she takes off with some magical death gizmo. Whoever picks Slayers sure didn't do their research on that one. I should have let the cops shoot her.” It was a throwaway remark with no real menace or desire behind it. She was frustrated, and Angel had become the first opportunity to air her grievances.

Angel's brow furrowed. “She's had a rough time.”

“Right. Her plushy criminal life must be real hard on her.”

“You know what I mean. First Post, then Finch. She's been through a lot, even since Sunnydale.”

Buffy sighed loudly. “Yeah, I know. It's just – she's not making it any easier.” She allowed herself a small smile. “And I hope you realize you're ruining my venting here.”

Angel smiled back. “Sorry.”

Then the inevitable silence kicked in, and Buffy found her gaze back on the floor. What else did they have left to say to each other? After everything they'd been through, small talk seemed so insignificant. Anything else had the potential to lead to bad things. Bad, bad things. When the pavement couldn't hold her interest she looked back at Angel, and found him waiting expectantly. Knowing she was going to have to be the one to speak up, she found herself still on the same topic. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“I know this feels weird, but it's understandable. A lot has changed recently. In my life; in yours. We both need time to figure things out.”

Buffy gave him an apologetic smile. “I meant with Faith,” she said sheepishly.

“Oh.” His eyes roamed away from her. “Right.”

In an attempt to dig Angel out from his embarrassment, she carried on. “Problems are so much easier when you can stake them away. When was the last time we had one of the classics, like a good, old-fashioned vampire invasion?” she finished brightly.

“You'll get through to her.”

Her pep didn't hold, and the fleeting smile fell from her face. “I'm not so sure. I mean for all we know she's fine with being a part of the big evil, a-and I'm just throwing myself against a wall.”

“Does she really seem fine to you?”

Buffy thought about that for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “But she's not exactly atonement girl either.”

“Maybe she's waiting for you to make the first move.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. She wondered if he was even paying attention. “I've already made the first move. It didn't go spectacularly well.”

“Then maybe you need to try harder.”

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously, her eyes narrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Angel held up his hands. “I'm just saying that you're being a bit cavalier, don't you think?”

She continued to glare. “This is not me being cavalier,” she said sternly, taking offence at the accusation. “This is me trying to keep going. I won't be much use to anyone if I can't hold it together.”

“I don't think you get it, Buffy.” There was a rough edge to his voice. “Faith doesn't need to see how tough you are. She needs to see that you care. If you can't show her that then you'd better be ready to lose her forever.”

A small laugh escaped her throat. “If you think this is all so easy then why don't you help her? You've both killed people – maybe you can relate.” The words had come out more bitter than she intended, but she didn't care. Angel had absolutely no right to question her.

Buffy didn't see a reaction, and Angel spoke with a renewed calmness. “I never said it was going to be easy, and she didn't travel three thousand miles to find me.”

“So basically, what you're saying is that once again it's all on me? Well that's just great. Explain to me exactly what part of that is fair.” She was sick of having to be the responsible one – the chosen one. She needed a break. Just for once.

Angel didn't give her one. “Life isn't fair; that's the point. You've had it rough, Buffy, but you're not the only one who's suffered. You think because you've been through hell and bounced back that everyone can just do the same. The way I see it, Faith's still trapped there, and unless you give her one she doesn't have a reason to fight her way back.”

The words weren't spoken with any real harshness, but that didn't stop Buffy from feeling every one of them. She looked away – a futile attempt to distance herself from the situation. She closed her eyes tight when tears began to brim, trying to cut off their advance to the surface.

Angel wasn't finished though. “If you don't want to deal then that's fine: you can't save everyone, right? Who knows, perhaps Faith will make it on her own. Either way, she won't be your problem any--”

“I'm trying,” she yelled, having heard more than enough. “I get that I'm handling this badly,” she added weakly as she opened her eyes.

She found Angel still watching her, and she looked him straight in the eye. “I want everything to be OK again.” She took a ragged breath. “But I don't know what I'm supposed to do to make it better.”

“Be there for her,” was Angel's slowly spoken response. “That's all you can do.”

Buffy watched him silently, even as he turned and began to walk away. She reluctantly let him go, watching and waiting until she was alone. Only then did she allow herself to blink, and the action was enough to allow a single tear to escape and run down her face. She continued to stare absently into the distance, content to let the soft breeze blow over her as she became lost in her thoughts.

----------

Sunnydale High was as deserted as Buffy had expected, with students and teachers alike long gone. Most of them would be in their beds, and Buffy had seriously considered giving in to that very impulse. At a little after eleven it was still early, for her at least, but it had been an emotionally draining week so far, and her stomach threatened to bring up its contents. Giles would worry if she didn't show though, and while she could phone in the bad news, they really needed to start work on a plan B. It didn't help that she also envisioned a small army of police officers waiting outside her home.

She chastised herself as she headed down the corridor to the library. She wondered just how much she should tell Giles. That the mayor had the shard. That come tomorrow she could be a wanted felon. That Faith had opened up to her, left herself vulnerable, and she had stood there gawking like some kind of heartless fiend. She had wanted to talk to Faith, and that night she had gotten her chance. And she had blown it. God, she thought, she could be so emotionally challenged sometimes.

She found it ironic that Angel was the one to tell her what she needed to hear. He had been the centre of her concerns since his return; the thing that had kept her from even noticing Faith slipping away. She'd been so worried about keeping him a secret, and so confused about having him back, that everyone else had fallen by the wayside, including Faith.

She pushed through the library's double doors. Giles sat at a table in the middle of the room, surrounded by books. He looked up, and then rose quickly, knocking a small stack of texts to the floor in the process.

“Buffy! My God, are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Her eyebrow rose. She knew the back of her top would be in tatters, and she wasn't looking forward to plying out the remaining shards of glass she felt embedded in her skin like splinters. From his angle he couldn't have seen that though. Unlike Faith, she had managed to avoid any other scrapes from the demon's claws, and she figured she should be looking pretty much in one piece.

Her confusion must have shown, and he clarified as he moved closer. “Your neck. It looks like you've been hung.” His eyes were wide behind his glasses, and colour drained from his face as he studied her.

Somehow she had forgotten about that. Raising a hand to her neck, she gingerly ran it over the skin. It was painful to the touch and felt rough and swollen. She dreaded to imagine how bad it looked, but took some small comfort that there was no pain when it was left alone. “I'm OK,” she answered quietly.

“What happened?”

“Demons. Keepers, I think. Their extinction may have been a tad exaggerated.”

“Oh God, Buffy. I'm sorry. I didn't realize--”

“Hey, don't sweat it.” She cut him off before he had time to beat himself up. “You couldn't have known.” She didn't blame him, and she offered a small smile to reinforce that point.

“So you retrieved the shard I assume?” Wesley asked as he appeared at the top of the stairs from the stacks. Buffy noted his voice didn't share Giles' concern. Not that it surprised her.

“No,” she muttered abjectly.

“What? So the Keepers escaped with it then?” he inquired, but he didn't bother to wait for an answer. “Hmm, still, at least it's safe from the mayor.”

“And with any luck they'll disappear for a few more centuries,” Giles joined in, offering Buffy a warm smile as their eyes met. It was a smile she couldn't return, prompting a furrowing look to form on his face.

She let out a disheartened sigh. “I'm pretty sure the mayor has it. All three of them now.”

“What?” came Wesley's high-pitched shriek of disbelief, catching Buffy by surprise. “How could you let that happen?” he asked accusingly.

“Oh do shut up,” Giles directed at Wesley before Buffy could reply herself. He looked back to Buffy. “The mayor sent someone to the museum?”

“Faith.” Buffy spoke the name quietly. She hadn't planned to mention Faith's involvement, especially in front of Wesley, but she didn't have the energy to think up a convincing alternative.

“Faith?” Wesley asked incredulously. “That girl has gone too far. And you!” Anger had crept into his voice. “How could you let her take it?”

“I didn't let her take anything,” Buffy defended herself, but she had trouble believing her own words. She knew she had all but gift wrapped the shard for Faith, and then helped with her getaway to top it off.

“You should have done everything you could to stop her.” Wesley said as he made his way down the stairs. “Do you realize your failure has put countless innocent lives at--”

“That's enough!” Giles barked, directing a warning glare at Wesley. The sudden outburst made Buffy jump. She watched as he removed his glasses. His eyes didn't leave the other watcher. “I think we're done here for tonight.” There was no mistaking his words for a suggestion.

“So do I,” Wesley said, his head lifting as he struck a defiant pose. “I have somewhere I need to be.” Without another word, and avoiding eye contact with both of them, he moved briskly to the exit, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand along the way.

Once they were alone, Buffy broke the silence. “Giles, I'm sorry. I tried to stop her. Everything just happened so fast. I didn't know--”

“It's OK.” Giles said. “You couldn't have anticipated that Faith would be there. We all assumed we were a step ahead of the mayor.” He paused, his eyes focusing on her neck. “She didn't have anything to do with...” His voice trailed away as he gestured his glasses toward her wound.

Buffy's hand moved to her neck as she found herself subconsciously trying to cover up the injury, though she resisted the temptation to touch it again, “No,” she said softly. “She saved me.”

Giles' eyes questioned her, and she elaborated. “One of the demons, I couldn't get it off me – I couldn't breathe. She could have just left me to die.. but she didn't.” She felt her emotions intensify, and she spoke quickly, the words rambling out before she could even think them through. “I know she's way out of line, Giles, but she's scared, or lonely, or-or something. God, I don't know, but this isn't where she wants to be.”

Her voice was quivering, but she kept going. “She needs my help. I can't just give up on her; I have to do something. I have to try.” She finally forced herself to stop talking, to stop thinking, before she lost control completely.

“Then we will.” There was no doubt to be heard in Giles' voice, and Buffy was moved by the ease with which his much needed support came. She had half expected to be told she was being foolish. That Faith was too dangerous or too far gone. She looked up at him, speechless, and she found herself comforted by his compassionate eyes. “I trust your judgement, Buffy; I always will. If you think there is hope for Faith then I will do everything I can to help.”

Her emotions were already working in overdrive, and, with the show of unconditional trust, tears threatened to brim from her eyes. She forced out a small laugh as she looked away, feeling ridiculous at her emotional outpouring. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, taking away the thin layer of dampness.

“Come on,” Giles said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

He guided her to a table, and she took a seat in the chair he pulled out. Giles moved away as she focused on keeping her heavy eyelids raised. A minute later she sensed him back behind her. She felt his eyes on her as she realized he could now see the full extent of the earlier fight. She fought the urge to cover up her back while she sat in silence.

She felt him slowly, delicately, begin to ease the shards out from her back one by one. A soft material dabbed at her injuries through the tears in her shirt. She flinched occasionally as he tended to her wounds, but repressed any sounds of pain from escaping. When she no longer felt Giles' touch, she lay her head down on the table and closed her eyes. She heard soft footsteps move away as she rested, and she told herself she just needed to take a few minutes to steady herself. Then they could discuss strategy.

When she awoke, Buffy had a sneaking suspicion that she had rested her eyes for slightly longer than originally planned. She sat up gingerly before attempting to stretch out a knot from her neck; apparently sleeping hunched over a table was not great posture. Giles was sat behind the library counter, taking sips from the mug cradled in his hands.

“Mmm, what time is it?” she asked sleepily, drawing his attention.

“Good morning.” He glanced down at his watch. “A little after seven. Did you sleep well?”

She lazily nodded a reply. “Somehow.”

“Good. And I have good news. I found something promising regarding the Shards of Ursula.” He gestured downward to something out of her sight. Night time reading material, she suspected. “Powerful magic rarely comes without a price, and it would seem these are no exception. They feed off the life source of others, sapping energy from their victims to enhance their power. Given their inactivity as of late, I think it's safe to assume they won't be anywhere close to full strength.”

Buffy let that digest. “So the good news is that the mayor is going to have to kill a few dozen people before he destroys the world?” she teased. Her own perkiness took her by surprise. She must have needed the sleep more than she realized, and having spilled her worries to Giles hadn't hurt either.

“Precisely!” he answered, upbeat despite her mocking.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Gee, Giles, I know it hasn't been the best week ever, but I think we're setting our standards just a little too low here.”

“All I'm saying is that we still have time. Rounding up enough people in a discrete manner would be difficult enough for anyone, yet alone someone in the public spotlight.”

That made sense, she thought, and she decided to let him off the hook. “So what's the plan?”

If he had one, he didn't get a chance to share it. Buffy's head turned to the library door as it swung open. Wesley entered first, moving with a confident march. He was followed closely by two others she didn't recognise, both of whom were dressed in smart, grey suits. A fourth man appeared at the back, and the smile dropped from her face. It really wasn't going to be her week.

“Ms Summers,” came the flat greeting from Quentin Travers as she caught his eye. He smiled at her, and she glared in return. His attention moved on as he scanned the room, his eyes landing on Giles. “Rupert.”

Buffy was quick to her feet, her eyes glued to Quentin while the troupe of watchers positioned themselves nearby. “Maybe I wasn't clear enough last time,” she warned.

His face remained indifferent as he met her look, and his lack of concern only served to anger her more.

“Calm down now, dear. My apologies for the unexpected intrusion, but you needn't worry. We're not here for you.”

“Then why are you here?” Giles asked as he stepped out from behind the desk, moving around to stand beside Buffy. He leant back against the table and crossed his arms, and they both awaited a response.

Buffy knew the answer before it came. In her experience the council were pretty single-minded, and if she wasn't their concern then last she checked that left only one other Slayer.

“To help, of course. It has become apparent to us that Faith is out of control, and so we are here to resolve the matter.” Quentin said, little in the way of emotion showing.

“We can handle Faith,” Buffy replied firmly. She didn't need help from the council, and she wanted it even less.

“Is that so? From what Wesley tells me, it would seem that things have deteriorated considerably since the council last intervened.”

“And we all know what a resounding success that was,” Buffy scoffed.

“Yes, well, that was unfortunate, but we underestimated just how far Faith had fallen. This time we are better equipped to deal with the situation.”

Something must have shown on Buffy's face, because Quentin continued. “There is no need to be concerned. It is in the council's best interests to see that this reaches an amicable conclusion.”

Buffy found little comfort from his words. “Meaning?”

His condescending look suggested she should already know. “If Faith cooperates then this can can come to a peaceful conclusion, and she can return with us to England for rehabilitation. If she does not – well, I'm sure you understand.”

She liked the sound of that even less. The chances of Faith cooperating with anybody were somewhere between none and, well, what was less than none?

“All I ask from you is an idea on where we might find her,” Quentin continued. “I have agents searching Sunnydale as we speak, but proceedings could move along far quicker if you would be so kind at to point us in the right direction. I believe it would be in all of our best interests if you cooperated. Especially Faith's.”

Buffy wasn't sure if that was a veiled threat against Faith, or if the man just sounded sleaze by default. Either way she had no interest in helping them, even if she had actually known where Faith might be. “You know what, she did mention something about Disney Land.” She laid the sarcasm on thick to make sure Quentin got the point loud and clear.

He scowled in distaste before trying again. “Mr Giles, perhaps you could be more insightful?”

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose, appearing to give considerable thought to the matter before he responded. “As I seem to recall, I no longer work for you, so why the bloody hell would I answer any of your questions?” he said finally, and Buffy didn't bother to resist a smirk.

Quentin did not seem to share her amusement, and he gave Giles a disapproving look. Buffy briefly found herself wondering why Giles didn't get a scowl.

“I would expect that level of immaturity from her, Rupert, but not from you. But if you change your mind, you know how to reach us.” Giles didn't respond, leaving a brief silence between them. “We'll be in touch.”

“Really,” Buffy said, “there's no need to go out of your way.”

Quentin didn't take the bait, instead nodding a good-bye to Wesley. “Mr Pryce.” Wesley gave an overly firm nod in return. Quentin turned and made his way out of the library, his two other companions scurrying after him.

“Giles, we need to talk,” Buffy said promptly. “Alone,” she added as she shot Wesley an annoyed look.

“I think not!” Wesley said. “In fact, I expressly forbid it. Anything you want to say to Mr. Giles, you can say in front of me.”

She took a step toward him. “I'm having trouble putting all my thoughts into words right now, but if you want I can show you how I feel.” Her tone wasn't aggressive, but the warning was still there.

It was enough to make Wesley take a step back, even though there was still plenty of space between him and Buffy. “I just want to help,” he said defensively. “Faith is my responsibility, and...”

His voice trailed off, and Buffy watched his deflated eyes drop. She couldn't help but feel a touch of sympathy for him. She knew he wasn't the only one who had made mistakes when it came to Faith. He sounded sincere, and she could do with all the help she could get. Still, she couldn't trust him completely. Not while he still worked for the council, and especially not while Faith was in such a volatile state.

“OK, if you want to help, stay here. Keep track of what the council are up to. If they get any leads on Faith, come find us.”

“I'm not sure if that would be appropriate given--” he began.

“Wesley!” she snapped, stopping him short. They did not have time to waste.

“OK, OK,” he conceded. More upbeat, he added, “I will keep you fully apprised of the situation.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, before looking to Giles. “Let's go. We need to find Willow.”

----------

The computer lab had been the first port of call for Buffy and Giles, but when that was a bust Buffy had suggested they head for the cafeteria instead. Students were appearing in dribs and drabs as the two of them made their way through the corridors, but there was still some time before class began and so far Willow was nowhere among them.

“Damnit,” Buffy said. “She's the poster girl for eager learners. Why is today the day she actually shows up on time?”

Giles checked his watch. “I'm sure she'll be here soon. What do you need her for?”

“Computer witchery. Actual witchery. Whatever can point me to Faith the fastest.”

“I see,” he said evenly. “And when you find Faith?”

Buffy gave him a puzzled look. Did she really need to explain?

She recognised the look on his face; she'd seen it plenty of times before. Worry. “Your heart is in the right place, a-and your faith is commendable,” he said, in a cautious manner that suggested there was more to come. “However I'm not convinced you've given serious consideration to the idea that Faith may not want your help.”

Buffy stopped walking and could only glare. It wasn't a ridiculous notion by any means, but Faith had already given her a sign, of sorts, and for the time being she needed to cling to that. She waited until Giles stopped and faced her. “I thought you were on board?” she accused him.

Giles raised a hand in defence. “I am, Buffy, really. All I'm saying is that you need to be cautious. I'm sure I needn't remind you that she saved your life once before, only to go on to offer her services to the mayor. You may very well be the one thing that still links her to the girl she once was, but there is no guarantee that she won't decide to sever that tie. She is clearly deteriorating quickly, and if you give her an opening--”

“I know,” she cut in, her voice much louder than intended. She glanced around quickly, making sure she hadn't gained an audience with the outburst. “Don't you think I've thought about that? Every scenario that plays out in my head ends in bloodshed. I'm the slayer; killing is pretty much what I do. Vampires, demons, Angel.” She paused as she let her own words sink in. “But I'm not going to screw up again. I'm not expecting a declaration of unity, Giles; I just want – I just need another chance to make this right.”

“Now, Buffy, you can't hold yourself responsible for Faith's situation,” he tried, but she was having none of it.

“Can't I? The mayor didn't come for her, Giles. She went to him. Because she didn't have anyone else. Because she didn't think I cared.” Then, for the first time, she found herself able to admit something, not only out loud, but also to herself. “Because I was too busy to care,” she finished, with a belief that left little room for argument.

Giles watched her silently, his soft eyes leading the sorrowful expression on his face.

“Hey guys.”

Buffy spun to find Willow stood with a nervous smile on her face. “Will!” Lunging forward, Buffy wrapped her arms around the other girl. She didn't know how much Willow had overheard; she was just glad the girl had arrived.

Willow let out a small gasp of surprise as she was almost bowled over. “I missed you too?” she said slowly.

Buffy let her go and took a step back to find Willow's eyes questioning her. She wasted no time in getting down to business. “I'm glad you're here. I need your help.”

A grin instantly spread across Willow's face. “Sure, Buffy, what's up?”

----------

When the three of them arrived in the cafeteria, they found Xander sat at a table enjoying an unhealthy breakfast. After a quick greeting, Buffy gave Willow and Xander a condensed version of the situation.

“So what can I do?” Willow asked.

“I need you to track down Faith for me. Go online, do a spell, whatever works,” Buffy replied.

Willow's brow wrinkled. “Don't we kinda already know where she lives?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. I swung by her place. She's gone, and it looked like she won't be back there.”

“You went to her hotel room?” Giles asked.

Oh right, Buffy thought; she may have forgotten to mention that to anyone. “It's no big deal, just recon,” she lied.

The plain look on Giles' face suggested he viewed it as somewhat of a deal, and Buffy was sure he was holding back from saying anything more.

“OK, but she could be anywhere,” Willow said. “I know it's only Sunnydale, but it could still take a while to come up with anything concrete.”

“The mayor's paying for her place, and it's somewhere flash. Close to city hall, but not next door or anything. Maybe 5-10 minutes drive?” As Buffy offered the information she'd gleaned from her run-in with Faith, she could feel Giles' watchful eyes on her. She didn't like keeping details from him, but while she knew he wanted to help, he had already made it clear that he was more concerned for her well being than for Faith's. She could understand that, and she appreciated his concern, but it wasn't going to help bring Faith back.

“So what's the plan?” Xander asked, his interest perking up having finished his chocolate bar. “We wait until she's sleeping, sneak on in, you bash her over the head, and we deliver her to Sunnydale's finest?” He paused, and his eyebrows rose. “Hey, that actually sounds pretty good.” He looked around at each of them, but plain faces were the only acknowledgement he received. “Or not?” he said, dispirited, and he gave a small shake of his head.

Buffy found a twisted amusement in the comment, and she did well to suppress an incredulous laugh. If the police were after Faith then it was probably for the exact same reason they'd be after her. As far as she knew, Faith's activities had gone untracked by all until last night.

“Actually,” Buffy began, after it seemed Giles wasn't going to fill him in, “I go over there – while she's still awake – and we talk this out.”

“If you want to mock my plan, go right ahead, but know this: sleeping people rarely fight back.” Buffy's face remained neutral, and Xander's smile slipped. “You are mocking my plan, right?”

The sound of the school bell filled the room, followed by the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet as students began making their way to their first class. The four of them remained exactly where they were, and all eyes were trained on Buffy.

“Have you forgotten the small detail where she's a raging sociopath?” Xander asked, his voice raising in pitch and volume all the way.

Buffy looked to Willow for support, but the girl averted her eyes down to her lap where she was busy twiddling her thumbs.

“Look guys,” Buffy began, realizing she was on her own. “I know that Faith is in pretty deep, but she's not the first one to lose her way. Remember last summer when I got back from L.A.? I was way out of line; I almost got you all killed.”

“That was different,” Xander said, instantly jumping to her defence.

“It was,” Buffy agreed, “because I had you guys to bring me back.” She gave Xander an earnest smile. “Especially you, Xan. When the anointed one took the others you didn't pull any punches, but you still believed in me. You trusted me to set things right.” She looked Willow in the eye. “And all of you forgave me, no questions asked.” Lastly, she let her eyes rest on Giles. “Without you all standing by my side I honestly don't know where I'd be. Faith doesn't have that, I get that now. She doesn't have anyone or anything to fight for. She's on her own, and maybe she's given up hope. But I haven't.”

Her voice threatened to betray her, but she forced herself to remain firm as she finished. “And if you guys don't want to help I won't hold it against you, but I'm going to do this, with or without you.”

There was silence as her three friends regarded each other, and Buffy waited uncomfortably as the seconds ticked by. After a moment they simultaneously turned to face her.

Giles cleared his throat before speaking. “R-right then, well we had better get to work. Xander, why don't you and I start by compiling a list of all the affluent areas in range of city hall.”

Xander nodded. “There's a bunch of Sunnydale property propaganda in Mr. Penson's room. He's in charge of the whole 'you've finished school and your parents are going to kick you out – what are you going to do next' escapade. They're bound to tell us all the places us mere peasants can't afford to stay in. I'll go grab them, and if I'm really lucky, escape without a game of 20 questions: Xander's Future edition.”

Willow spoke next as she reached into her rucksack. “I'll get into the city records. If we can narrow down the search we should be able to see if the mayor has links to any property in those areas.” She pulled out her laptop and began setting it up on the table as Xander rose from his seat.

“Hey,” Buffy said, gathering their collective attention again. “Thank you.”

Giles gave her a small smile. “Perhaps you should go home. We can take care of this, and we'll let you know the moment we find anything.” He nodded to her top. “Besides, if any teachers see you like that – especially Principal Snyder – you might have a hard time convincing them you haven't been fighting.”

“Which would be a real shame when you're so close to getting out with only a slightly smeared permanent record,” Xander added, gesturing with his thumb and finger about as far apart as he could manage.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, but she couldn't see much of the damage. “Oh yeah, kinda forgot about that.”

Buffy arrived home to an empty house. Her mother was going to be away at some gallery exhibition for the following few nights, and a note tacked to the refrigerator indicated she had already left. Along with a phone number reminder, in case of an emergency of the non-supernatural variety, the message also spoke of pre-prepared dinner waiting within. Taking a quick look, Buffy found enough lasagne for two nights along with a bag of mixed salad. Go mom, she thought, hoping that would be enough to save her from any culinary catastrophes. Her mother had very likely hoped the same thing.

She headed to the bathroom where she used the full size mirror to check out the back of her top. It didn't look all that bad, she decided. There were plenty of holes, but they were small in size and she'd had clothes lost to worse states. Unfortunately it was still nowhere but the trash for another piece of apparel; nobody had ever warned her that slaying was going to be an expensive gig. She pulled the top over her head and checked her own damage in the mirror. Small scars – mostly healed – covered her back, along with spatters of dried blood that Giles had missed through the material. Her neck hadn't fared quite so well, though the red tinge looked more like a nasty case of sunburn than a near death experience. She turned the shower on and reached down to adjust the taps until the water ran hot.

Later on – washed, dried, and decked in fresh, intact clothes – Buffy found herself at a complete loss. There had been no word from her friends yet, though barely more than an hour had passed since she'd left them. She wished she had stayed put; she needed to know what was going on. Turning to the TV for distraction, she flicked through the never ending stream of channels but was unable to focus on any of them. Her eyes spent as much time on the clock propped atop of the TV as on the screen itself, and she found herself taking a strong dislike toward the second hand's slow ticking.

Unable to sit still any longer, she paced the house for other distractions. She flipped through college materials, never staying on a page long enough to read the words. She even resorted to micro-managing her already tidy room in an effort to pass the time. No activity held her attention for long, and she eventually found herself laid on top of her bed as she stared vacantly at the ceiling.

She realized she could be spending the time coming up with a game plan, but there didn't seem much point. She had no idea how Faith was going to react to anything, though violence and bad decisions seemed a shoo-in. Not that Faith could go much lower, short of deciding that the mayor wasn't evil enough and pledging her soul to Satan instead. She sighed, rolling onto her side. “What do you think, Mr Gordo?” she asked as her eyes met those of the stuffed pig. “Is Faith going to sacrifice me to the prince of darkness?” The small, black eyes stared back at her blankly. “Yeah, I hope not too.” She took the pig into her arms, hugging it tight to her chest as she closed her eyes.

----------

The sound of the phone drew Buffy from her sleep, and it took a short moment for the source of the noise to register. Once it had, she shot from the bed, moving with the speed and grace no ordinary human possessed. She flew down the stairs to the phone and grabbed it as the fourth ring came to an end. “Giles?” she guessed.

“It's me,” Willow corrected.

“What did you find?”

“Well, we looked through all the properties matching the criteria you gave us, but nothing had the mayor's name attached to it.”

“Oh,” Buffy managed, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.

“Then we found an apartment under the name Allan Finch.”

“So?”, she asked downbeat, not really seeing Willow's point. She knew Finch was the deputy mayor. He was bound to have lived somewhere nice when he was still, well, living. “Isn't that to be expected?”

“Normally, yeah, except the lease was only signed four days ago.”

The realization was instant, and a wide smile grew across Buffy's face. “And dead people don't sign leases.”

“Not as a rule.”

“Willow, I love you guys. Thank you so much,” she said. At the same time she was already scrambling to get her coat on with her one free hand.

“Sure thing. You need to head to apartment 118 at The Crestmont. It's on Shoreline Drive. But Buffy?”

Buffy predicted the request. “I will.”

----------

At five stories tall, and wider still, the apartment block had been easy enough to track down. Getting there had been somewhat of a trek though, in part because Buffy had kept away from main roads, darting through alleyways and side streets where possible to avoid any members of the Watchers' Council who may have been keeping tabs on her. By the time she reached the building she was sure nobody could have kept up with her without revealing themselves, but she still couldn't shake the nagging paranoia.

From the outside she could see the overhanging balconies on the uppermost level of the building along with the bold, glass double doors that marked the entrance. It definitely looked nice enough to be the right place. She looked over her shoulder one last time and, after finding nothing suspicious, made her way inside.

Four people dressed in suits left her feeling severely under dressed, her casual t-shirt and jeans not really looking the part. It occurred to her that if she didn't fit in then Faith must look even more out of place, and that made her feel a little better. One of the guests, a middle aged man on his cell phone, rudely turned his back after catching her eye.

She headed straight for the stairs, avoiding eye contact as she passed a smartly dressed woman stood behind the reception desk. A listing of apartment numbers was conveniently displayed on the wall, and it indicated that Faith's room was all the way up. She pulled open the door to the stairway and began the ascent. She took the steps two at a time and didn't slow down until she reached the top. From there it was only a matter of two hallways before she found herself stood in front of apartment 118.

She didn't stop to think. She allowed herself a single deep breath, braced herself for whatever was coming, and then pulled the door handle down.

Even as the door crept open she heard Faith's nonchalant voice. “Hey, nobody asked for room--”

Their eyes met as the door opened fully, and the magazine in Faith's hands dropped to the bed on which she was laid. She rolled quickly to her feet from her sprawled out position.

“What the hell?” she asked, her raised voice depicting shock more than anything else. Her arms and legs had taken to a fighting stance even as she spoke.

Buffy raised her own arms, but to her sides with palms showing, indicating that her sudden arrival wasn't meant to be a surprise attack. Faith studied her face, and Buffy waited under the cautious gaze.

Faith's shoulders loosened, and her surprised expression faded away, though her arms stayed in place ready for a quick defence. “No one ever teach you to knock?” she asked.

“I didn't want you to bolt,” Buffy answered without thought.

Faith's eyebrow rose almost off the top of her head, and a small smirk tugged at her mouth. “Look around, B. We're on the fifth floor. Not a whole lot of places to go.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed, frowning at her oversight. For some reason that fact had completely failed to cross her mind.

She did take a moment to look over the room though, and she was impressed by what she saw. It wasn't huge, but it was definitely spacious enough for one person. A pair of single seater fabric chairs took up one corner of the open plan room, and a smart dining table with chairs took up another. The punching bag in the third looked ridiculously out of place against the rest of the décor, and she was pretty sure it didn't come as standard. An indentation in one wall gave way to a large TV and a flash looking sound system, and large semi-circular windows let in plenty of light.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Faith said, drawing Buffy's attention back to her. Faith had dropped the fighting stance completely, though her crossed arms looked equally uninviting. Despite the conversational question, she didn't appear overly thrilled at the intrusion. Only the smallest of smiles could be seen on her face, and Buffy suspected that was nothing more than the result of pride in the new apartment.

Buffy bit back the urge to air her first thought – to ask if it was worth it. She knew that would lead nowhere good. “Definitely a step up from your old place,” she said instead, trying to keep the tone light as if trivial compliments could somehow make it all better. Reasonably convinced that they weren't going to come to blows just yet, Buffy slowly closed the door behind her to give them some privacy while they spoke. Or shouted. Or knocked each other across the room.

When she turned back, even the faint glimmer of Faith's smile had been withdrawn. She was faced with piercing eyes, and it did little to help calm her fluttering nerves.

“What do you want?” Faith asked flatly. There wasn't the hint of playfulness that Buffy had found when they met at the museum, and she wondered if it was a mistake to confront Faith on her own turf.

Buffy's train of thought had gone off the rails the moment she entered the apartment, and the stony reception didn't make it any easier to think. She stuck to business, deciding she couldn't make things any worse with facts. “The Watchers' Council are here in Sunnydale, and they're here in force. I don't know how many, but they're out looking for you right now.”

There was not so much as a flicker of worry evident on Faith's face. “Gee, then I guess I'm lucky you found me first,” she replied with a scornful sarcasm.

Buffy was determined not to be perturbed that easily. “Faith, this is deadly serious. They want to take you back to England, and trust me – your health? Not at the top of their priority list. If you're not careful it's only a matter of time before they find you.”

Faith smirked. “And I bet good old Giles will be leading the way.”

“You're wrong. Giles wants to help. We all do. Even Wesley is looking out for you.”

“Is that right?” She didn't sound convinced. “Well you know what? I don't need any of you looking out for me. I've taken care of myself my whole life just f--”

“Fine?” Buffy guessed, getting used to Faith's deflections. “Look at yourself,” she tried to reason. “Look at where you are. What you're doing. Do you honestly believe this is you being fine? Because I don't. Not for a second.”

“And let me guess, you're here to make it all better, am I right?”

The snarky tone made it obvious that any answer Buffy gave wasn't going to go down well, but she tried none the less. “I can help you, Faith.”

“I don't want your help!” Faith's voice had risen several levels. “I don't need you coming here playing super-Buffy, protector of all. So how about you take your smug little speeches, get the hell out of my room, and go do your job somewhere else.”

Faith spat the words out, and the raw anger in her voice left Buffy fighting the urge to shrink back. Buffy tried to force a reassuring smile to her face, unsure if she'd managed a convincing cover-up to the intense uncertainty that beat against her chest. “I'm not here because it's my job. I'm here because I don't want to see you hurt.”

Faith's eyes narrowed and her mouth opened, but Buffy didn't give her the opportunity to bat away her efforts. “I care about you, Faith, and I think you're worth fighting for.” She threw her arms out to her sides, leaving her body wide open. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

Faith looked ready to argue otherwise, but whatever words she had planned seemed lost. Her arms dropped to her sides, remaining there for barely a second before they recrossed. She turned her back to Buffy, moving away from the bed toward the large apartment windows. Buffy took a few more steps into the room, but kept far enough away to give Faith breathing space.

“I'm sorry, Faith. I was supposed to be your friend, and I should have been there for you. Especially when-” she couldn't bring herself to mention Allan Finch by name, and she was sure that Faith would understand her meaning. “I panicked, and I made a bad call. But I'm here now, and I really hope it's not too late to make it right.”

They were too high up to hear any traffic from the nearby road, and there was no sound of ticking clocks or bustling neighbours to help dilute the heavy silence. Buffy found herself unable to drag her gaze from Faith's hand as its fingers fidgeted against the window. After what seemed like forever, she had to listen carefully to make out Faith's hushed reply.

“What's the point? Everything I touch falls apart. How long until I screw something else up and you realize I'm not worth it?”

Buffy felt her heart sink as she took in the rueful words, and she wondered just how much guilt Faith shouldered. She knew so little of Faith's past; she'd never taken the time to ask. She didn't know how much of it Faith deserved, and she didn't care.

“This isn't your fault. Sometimes bad stuff happens, and there's nothing you can do about it. But turning everything off won't make it go away. You have to pick yourself up, and try to keep going, because that's all you can do.” Her tone was gentle, the words backed with the strength of belief. She paused briefly, allowing herself time to keep her calm. “I won't tell you it's going to be easy because it probably won't be. But you don't have to fight alone, Faith. Not anymore.”

Faith continued to stare out through the window pane, and Buffy was again prepared to wait. When Faith's hand moved from the window up to her face, the thought that Faith was wiping away tears drove Buffy forward. Faith spun as she closed in, her hands raising defensively, and Buffy stopped as she registered dampness in the girl's eyes.

“It's going to be OK,” Buffy said quietly, doing her best to paint an optimistic look on her face. There had been no real confirmation that Faith was on board, but Buffy had taken the lack of violence as a positive sign.

Faith avoided her gaze, and put more distance between the two of them as she moved across the room. Her hands grasped either side of the punching bag as she slowly leaned her weight into it.

The prolonged silence was starting to leave Buffy feeling uneasy, and now she too found herself unable to stand still, shifting from foot to foot. “Say something, Faith.”

Another long, painful moment of waiting passed as Buffy stared at the back of Faith's bowed head.

“Get out.”

Two short, simple words, spoken with such little strength, and yet powerful enough to suck the resolve from Buffy's spirit. Her brow furrowed. Confusion cut off her mouth from her brain. “What?” was the only weak word she managed to get out.

Faith released a short, ragged breath. “You need to go.”

“I-I don't understand.” Buffy was completely taken aback. She thought things had being going well – at least relatively speaking. But suddenly she was being kicked out. It didn't make sense, and she wasn't willing to go anywhere without an explanation. Faith added nothing else, and Buffy felt the silence finally tug away at her composure. The thought of failure surged adrenaline through her veins. “Damn it, look at me!” she shouted through gritted teeth as she approached Faith from behind.

Faith showed no intention of complying, and Buffy found herself past the point of patience. She reached out and grabbed Faith by the wrist. Pulling hard, she forced Faith around to face her. The look on her face brought Buffy to a halt, and she swallowed hard. There was no anger to be found. No hatred. Wide, wet eyes and quivering lips were the only thing facing Buffy, and it frightened her more than any demon she had ever encountered.

Faith's head slowly shook from side to side, the lacklustre movement showing how little fight she had left. She made no effort to free herself, her arm hanging limp in Buffy's grip.

“Just give me something to work with,” Buffy prompted.

There was still no response, and she released her hold on Faith's arm, letting it drop down to the side. Buffy stared for several more seconds as her emotions boiled up. “You know what? I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, and God knows you've pissed me off in the past, but this is the first time you've disappointed me.” Her voice was stern, with anger, frustration and desperation battling to conduct her words. “Because you're not even willing to try. You've been let down, I get it, I do. But if you're too afraid to put yourself out there, to take a chance, then you're going to spend the rest of your life alone.”

She wound up the tirade, but not in time to prepare for Faith's strike. The attack caught her hard on the face. Her head snapped to the side, and she dropped down to one knee to avoid falling over completely. She recovered quickly, bouncing straight back up. Running her tongue across her top lip, she recognised the all too familiar taste of blood.

Faith dredged up a final burst of energy, shouting angrily before Buffy could consider retaliation. “I took a chance.” There was passion in her voice, the fiery determination completely at odds to her helpless expression. “And you threw it right back in my face.”

Buffy tried to keep her voice firm and level, but there was no hope of that. She spoke in short, rushed sentences, the words running into one another as they spilled from her mouth. “I never meant to hurt you, Faith. I screwed up, and I'm sorry. I'll make it right, I swear. Just give me another chance.”

She kept her eyes locked to Faith's, unable to look away even when her own eyes began to dampen, worried that if she did then she'd lose sight of Faith forever. Her senses had risen off the charts. She could feel every drop of blood flow through her body. Every quickened breath, the tension in every muscle. It felt like a dream – or a nightmare – like she had no control over anything. And maybe she didn't. Only Faith could give Buffy the chance she needed, but uncertainty flickered throughout the girl's pained eyes. Every passing moment of indecision threatened to push Buffy over the edge.

In the end Faith didn't say a single word, and she didn't have to. A small nod through tearful eyes was enough to release a stream of relief that flushed away the worst of Buffy's fears.

Thank you. She wasn't sure if she had even managed to speak the words out loud, or only been able to think them. She was just glad she had a reason to use them.

“Hey Giles,” Buffy said in greeting.

“Buffy. You sound...” His voice trailed off for just a moment before returning with more concern. “Are you alright?”

Giles may not have finished his thought, but Buffy could feel the shaking in her own voice. She had tried to steady herself and regain some form of control before talking to Giles, but nothing in her body was willing to calm down yet. “Yeah, I'm OK.” She watched her hand, clenching it into a fist in an attempt so steady her slightly trembling fingers.

“Thank heavens. And Faith?”

Buffy couldn't answer that question because she really didn't know. She looked over at Faith who had slumped to the floor next to the punching bag. Her back was slack against the wall, and her knees were tucked up close to her chest. Troubled eyes gazed at the laminated floorboards below her feet. Everything about her screamed exhaustion, and Buffy could hear the cry even from across the room.

“Buffy?” Giles prodded.

“She's here with me now.” She knew that wasn't exactly what Giles had asked, but it was the only thing she could be sure of. She lowered her voice. “Listen, I'm going to be here a while longer. I'll fill you in later, but for now I need you to keep tabs on the council.”

“Wesley is keeping in regular contact with them, and so far it would seem they've made little progress.”

“Good. Star sixty-nine this number and call me if anything changes.”

“Of course. The second we know anything, you will too.”

“Thanks, Giles.”

She hung the cordless handset back on its stand before taking a slow, steady breath. It didn't do her much good. Returning her focus to Faith, she wondered that, if that was the hard part, surely the easy part was pretty much due. She crossed the room to the statue-like girl and slid down to echo her position, only a small space separating them. She laid her head back against the wall in an attempt to relieve some of the tension from her neck and shoulders. Despite the earlier nap, she felt an overwhelming desire to close her eyes and let herself drift off again.

“Hey,” she said softly. Apart from asking to make a call, it was the first word she had said to Faith since their silent agreement to give it another shot. Or Faith's silent agreement; Buffy had all but become a rambling idiot.

“Yo,” came Faith's subdued reply.

Buffy wanted to know what was running through Faith's head, but she felt too uncomfortable to broach the subject. “So, it sounds like the council are getting nowhere fast. It'd probably be best if you kept a low profile though.”

“You mean hide.” There was no anger or accusation to be heard. In fact there was no emotion whatsoever. The energy that Buffy had always found in Faith had seemingly been worn away.

“Just keep out their way for a couple of days. Besides, I think you've had enough excitement for one year.”

Faith's gaze remained on the floor, missing the small smile Buffy offered. “Right.”

With Buffy's attempt to lighten the mood having little effect on Faith, she switched to a different approach. “It's probably best if we both keep out of sight for a while really. There's a good chance the police will be looking out for us as well, what with the breaking, and then the entering, and, well, you know. If no one recognises us maybe they'll think we were from out of town. Just a couple of drunk teens passing through.”

She realized the chance of that happening was pretty much zero, especially given her worryingly increasing number of run-ins with the police, but that wasn't really the point. She just wanted to show Faith that she wasn't alone; that whatever mess they were in, they were in it together.

“I wouldn't worry about that. It's already taken care of,” Faith said matter-of-factly.

Given Faith's previous stunted replies, Buffy hadn't expected much of a response, and she was caught off guard when it came. Alarm bells went off in her head. “What?” she blurted out. After the police had shown up, she had ran for the hills the first chance she had gotten. Now she wondered if Faith had done the same, or if – she tried to banish the thought. “Taken care of how?” she asked, careful to keep her voice even despite secretly dreading the answer.

“The boss knows someone high up in the force. Told them he'd take care of it personally.”

“Oh,” Buffy breathed in relief. Right, she thought, that actually kind of made sense. Her pulse felt like it had about doubled in the last thirty seconds, and it had already been beating far too fast. She was convinced Faith would be the reason she'd become the first Slayer to die of a heart attack.

Faith twisted her neck to look at Buffy, a puzzled expression on her face. It didn't stay long. She opened her mouth as if to speak but instead averted her gaze. Her shoulders seemed to sink farther as her eyes returned to the floor.

Buffy knew she'd put her foot in it. “No, Faith. I didn't mean – I just...” Damnit, she thought, her voice trailing off as she failed to find a convincing cover-up for the veiled accusation. Idiot, she scolded herself. Maybe it would be better if she just stopped talking. Like, forever.

“I know I haven't made the best choices,” Faith said, a sliver of strength returning to her voice. “I never wanted to end up here. Everything just...” Her brow furrowed. “Kept coming. It wouldn't stop. God, I just wanted it to stop.” She quietened for a moment, and her hands fidgeted on her knees. Buffy gave her time, and when Faith looked up there was a new found resolve in her eyes. “But I swear, Buffy, I haven't killed anyone. Not since...” The corners of her mouth twitched as she stopped mid-sentence, but her wide, pleading eyes remained locked on Buffy's.

“The accident,” Buffy finished softly.

Faith gave a small nod. Her mouth formed a brave smile that was lost before it could reach her eyes.

Buffy wasn't sure if getting that out had given Faith any form of relief, but it had certainly helped ease her own anxiety. She reached out and placed a hand on Faith's shoulder. Faith tensed at the contact, but Buffy didn't let that deter her, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We'll get through this together, Faith. I promise.”

----------

Buffy sat on the kitchen counter alongside Willow, and Giles and Xander were stood nearby. She couldn't shake the feeling of guilt for leaving Faith by herself after what had happened, but she knew bringing Faith along would have been dangerous. They had to be careful until she could get the council to leave town. She'd told Faith as much, apologising even as she left, but she couldn't help but worry that Faith would think she was blowing her off. Again. She decided she would swing by Faith's that night after patrol to make sure everything was OK.

First though, with her mum away she had gathered the gang to her home. She suspected it would afford them more privacy to discuss things without risking another unwanted visit from Quentin and co. She had given everyone a very vague summary of the events with Faith – essentially telling them that they had talked it out, which she figured was more or less the truth.

The main agenda for the meeting was solving their mayor problem. They needed to stop him before he had a chance to use the Shards of Ursula, and every day they gave him put people's lives at risk.

“The question is: how?” Giles asked. “Even if we find a way to reverse whatever it is the mayor has done to make himself impervious to damage, we'd still need to get close to him, and I suspect he won't make that easy.”

“Well two slayers are better than one,” Xander pointed out. “Especially when one of them has an all-access pass to the dark side.”

“No. I don't think pitting Faith against the mayor is a good idea,” Buffy said, taking an instant dislike to the idea.

Giles look at her questioningly. “Buffy, the mayor is incredibly dangerous as it is, and he clearly has at least part of the vampire populous on his side. If Faith is on board then we could really do with all the help we can get.”

“I know, but the last thing I want is for her to think I'm using her. Believe me, if she offers to help then I will gladly take it, but I can't ask her to do this.”

Giles gave a small nod. “Then I guess we'll have to be enough.”

She gave a Giles an appreciative smile, glad that he wasn't going to push the idea, and she replied with certainty. “We always are.”

“OK, so we have us, but what exactly are us – I mean we – going to do?” Willow asked. “Don't get me wrong, storming city hall sounds cool in theory, but aren't we all going to end up kinda, you know, in jail?”

“Willow's right,” Giles said. “We can't risk a full on assault. Our best bet is to draw the mayor out. Somewhere away from the public eye.”

“Except we don't have a whole lot that he wants. He already has his magical lamps,” Xander said. His eyebrows rose. “Hey, maybe we can offer him Wesley. I mean who can resist a tasty, late night soul snack?”

Buffy smiled at the thought of using Wesley as bait, but she knew Xander was joking and that the mayor wouldn't take risks for something he needed in bulk. “We have me,” she said simply.

“I'm not sure I follow,” Giles said as his brow furrowed.

“The mayor is almost home and dry right? And he knows no one else in town is going to get in his way. So if I arrange to meet him one on one do you think he'll pass up the chance to take me out of the picture?”

Giles didn't look happy at that suggestion, but it was Xander who got in first. “Ahh yes,” he said in mock thought. “The old 'throw yourself into the fire and see how badly you burn' plan. A time honoured classic among dead people!” His voice rose at the end, nailing home his point.

Buffy gave him a disapproving look, but the phone rang before she could expand on her idea. “Sorry, must be mom check up time,” she said. She hopped off the counter and made her way into the hallway to the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey boss.”

“Faith?” Buffy asked, instantly confused. She had left Faith her home number in case of, well, anything really, but she hadn't expected a call so soon, and the greeting was a little odd even for Faith. “Is everything OK?”

“We're on the way to pick up that package for you now. Hanger six right?”

That didn't make a whole lot more sense. “Package? What package? There's a package?”

“OK, just checking. I know this is important, and I didn't want to screw it up.”

Buffy's brow furrowed. She wondered if she'd pushed Faith into some sort of mental breakdown. “Huh? Faith, what's going on?”

“We'll be there in five. That'll give us ten minutes to set up before they land.”

Realization was slowly sinking in, and worry matched Buffy's confusion. “Are you OK? Who are you with?”

“Don't worry, boss. Between me and the vamps, they won't know what hit them.”

“Airport, right? Hanger six. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just...” She frowned, trying to think. She wanted to say something helpful, but she still wasn't exactly sure what was happening. “Try and stall them or something.”

“Right, boss, I'll pay more attention next time.” There was silence on the other end for a couple of beats. “Sorry.”

The apology seemed unnecessary, and Buffy wasn't sure if Faith was trying to be convincing to her present company or if it was actually aimed at her, but she erred on the side of caution. “This isn't your fault, Faith. Just be careful.”

The connection went dead, and Buffy hung up on her end as well. She turned to return to the kitchen, but Giles, Willow and Xander were already stood in the doorway as they eyed her questioningly.

“Giles. Airport. Now,” she said as she moved for the stairs.

“What's going on?” Giles asked.

She wasn't exactly sure herself, but she knew enough. “Faith might be in trouble. I need to grab some supplies, but I'll meet you in the car.”

----------

“Come on, Giles,” Buffy urged. “Whatever's going down, it's going down right now!”

“And I'm going as fast as I can, but this isn't exactly a people carrier,” Giles said. “I don't think it's ever had this much weight in it.”

“Hey!” Willow and Xander simultaneously objected from the back.

Giles rolled his eyes. “How about we let me focus on the driving, and you three worry about what to do when we get there.”

“If we ever get there,” Buffy muttered, drawing a wry look from Giles.

----------

The car pulled in at the airport almost twenty minutes after Faith had made the call. Buffy was half way out the door before it had even stopped, and the rest of the group followed almost as quick. Sticking to the plan, they lagged behind ready to stop any vampires who tried to flee. Whatever Faith had been sent to collect for the mayor, Buffy wasn't letting it leave with anyone but her.

The airport wasn't huge, and at her brisk pace Buffy reached the outside of hanger six a minute later. It was nestled over in the back corner – the perfect choice for shady dealings, she thought. She rounded the corner and looked inside, making out three bodies laid on the ground outside of a small private plane. She broke into a run, slowing down only when she was close enough to discern that none of them were Faith. Or, also to her relief, human. The last thing she wanted was for Faith to take another human life and end up in who-knows-what frame of mind.

The bodies were sprawled out together right next to the plane, suggesting that they had been hit hard and fast as soon as they landed. Her eyes fell on the hand of one of the demons, and she scrunched up her face. It was laid a foot away from where it should rightfully have been attached.

Frustrated, she turned away from the scene. She was too late. Faith had gone. The vampires had gone. The package – whatever it was – had gone. She moved quickly to the hanger exit, almost running into her friends as they came around the corner.

“Anything?” Willow asked hopefully.

“No,” Buffy said. Why hadn't Faith given her more warning? “Damn it.” She walked away from the group, giving herself space to think. She hadn't seen anyone on the way in, but she could have easily missed them if they'd left by a different route. Or maybe the plane had landed earlier than expected, and Faith and friends were long gone before she'd even arrived.

Something on the ground caught her attention. At first glance it had looked like oil, but she'd seen enough of the substance before to realize it was something else. Blood. Only a few drops, but they were in more of a rough line than a clump. Her eyes followed the direction of the droplets, and there were several more a couple of metres ahead. Looking all the way along in the same direction, her eyes landed on a single path that lead between two warehouses.

“This way,” she called behind her. She took off quickly, not waiting for any response. She passed more blood as she approached the walkway, and she didn't slow when she reached it. A stack of barrels stored against the side of the building almost entirely blocked the path, but she nimbly dodged past them without missing a step.

Out on the other side she came into view of a group heading away from her. She counted six in total, including Faith who was leading the way. “Bingo”, she said to herself. She looked back to find that there was nobody behind her yet. There were more vampires than she had expected, but she kept moving, unwilling to risk letting them get away while she waited for the others to catch up.

The open area offered nothing in the way of cover, leaving her with little choice but to take a more direct approach – running straight at them. The vampire at the back turned as she drew close. It growled, gathering the attention of the rest of the group.

“Hey guys, got room for one more?” Buffy asked as she wound down to a stop.

The vampire that had spotted her was the first to run forward, and she thrust a small bottle into its face. It roared in pain as the smashed glass released the contents, and it swung out one arm even as the other tried to wipe the holy water from its eyes. She telegraphed the attack easily, grabbing its arm and flipping it on to its back. It was too busy scratching at its eyes to see the stake that she drove through its heart.

None of the other vampires seemed overly keen to go next, and they stood in place as they looked at each other anxiously.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Faith asked. “Or should I tell the boss he needs a new crew?”

At once the four remaining vampires surged forward, apparently more scared of either Faith or the mayor than of Buffy. The first to reach her ran straight into the toe of her highly placed boot. That was quickly followed by a backhand that sent it stumbling away to one side. She aimed a roundhouse kick at the next to arrive, and would have taken it clean out were it not for the third charging right into her. The two of them were sent tumbling to the ground, with the snarling vampire landing on top. It tried to pin her arms to the ground, but she brought her knee up hard into its stomach before shoving it off. She flipped back to her feet only to receive a hard kick to her side, and she had to dodge back a few steps to avoid a second.

“A little help would be nice,” she said, looking over to Faith for support. The girl simply stood there, her face expressionless, and Buffy's brow furrowed.

The circling vampires left her with no time for contemplation. With one in front and another to each side, she turned to find the last sneaking up from behind. Jumping forward, she raised her boot straight into its chin, snapping its head back and sending it reeling. From the left, one vampire caught hold of her arm, and before she could knock it off another grabbed her from the right.

“Faith!” she yelled as she struggled to shake them off. She really felt the hard knock to the back of her head, and she let out a small moan as she found herself trying to shake away stars.

The vampire in front grinned as it moved toward her once more. “I've always wanted to taste a slayer.”

The vampire loomed in front of Buffy as it eyed her hungrily, salivating at the prospect of its next meal. She waited until it skulked into range before making her move. Using the vampires holding her, she pushed herself up and planted both feet into the aggressor's chest, doing enough to knock it away.

Its grin faltered as it stumbled back, and it bared its fangs. “That's right, get that blood pumping,” it hissed. “Makes it all the--”

Its face twisted into shock, and the tip of an arrow protruded from its chest.

“Hold that thought,” Buffy quipped as she watched its remains blow into the wind. She found Giles stood across from her, his empty crossbow still raised.

She stamped out against the side of one vampire's knee, and it roared in pain over the sound of cracking bone. Its grip on her arm loosened instantly, and it fell to its knees as it tried to hobble away. With the stake still clutched tightly in her free hand, she put the vampire on her other arm to rest with one quick jab.

An arm wrapped around her neck from behind, trying to drag her back. She took a firm hold and pulled forward, easily flinging the vampire over her shoulder to the ground. After dusting it quickly, she turned her attention to the last one.

It was trying desperately to distance itself from her, but with one leg damaged it was getting nowhere fast. Buffy took aim and threw her stake forward. It whirled through the air before piercing straight through the vampire's back.

Buffy couldn't even manage a smile as it turned to dust. Without wasting a moment she spun to face Faith. The girl was supporting a large, dark chest with both hands. One half of a pair of handcuffs was attached to the side of the chest, and the other hung below, covered in a layer of blood that periodically dripped to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” Buffy demanded, making no attempt to hide her anger.

Faith gave her a wide grin. “Knew you could take them.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. As she tried to wrap her head around the situation, she found herself giving voice to the doubt that niggled at the back of her mind. "If this is all some kind of trick you and the mayor thought up, I swear..."

Buffy let the threat hang in the air, and the smile left Faith's face quickly. “Whoa, no way, B. There's another vamp watching from the car behind me.”

“So?” Buffy asked, not really caring who or what was watching.

“So I can't exactly start staking the boss's crew without raising a few questions.”

Buffy stared at her, unconvinced. “I hate to break it to you, but he's probably going to wonder why you handed over his new toy.” She gestured a hand toward the chest.

“I know.” Faith paused for a moment. “That's why I can't give it to you.” Her voice was level, and there was no smile on her face to suggest that she was messing about.

“What?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

“Look, I'm not going to hide away in my room while you clean up my mess, and besides, you could do with someone on the inside.” She kept her eyes locked on Buffy's as she shifted the chest to support it with one hand. “But this needs to look real.”

Buffy could see where they were headed, and she shook her head. “Faith, I am not going to fight you for it. If you want to help, that's fine. Good even. But we'll find ano--”

Faith's free fist moved fast, striking Buffy on the side of her face. She automatically raised her hand to the stinging in her cheek. Faith stood there and waited, her expression blank.

Buffy's anger had started to reside as Faith explained herself, but the sudden blow took her in the opposite direction. She glared intensely at Faith. “I really wish you'd stop doing that,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

Then she swung a fist of her own, catching Faith in much the same spot. She deflected one kick from Faith, and then another, before catching her with a back handed strike. Faith swung the chest around with both hands, but it was high and wild, and Buffy easily ducked the attack, using the opportunity to kick out at Faith's unguarded midsection. The box left Faith's grip and flew off to the side, bouncing and skidding across the ground before it came to a halt.

Buffy hoped that would be enough, but Faith showed no sign of slowing down. Buffy matched Faith's attacks, blocking first a left swing and then a right one, but she couldn't react fast enough to keep Faith's knee out of her gut. It hurt, enough to make her wince, but not as much as it should have.

Buffy ducked a highly aimed kick, sweeping her leg out to take Faith's remaining foot from the ground. Faith landed straight on her back, but didn't stay down for long. She rolled on to her front before pushing herself back to her feet. At that moment Buffy found Willow and Xander arrive to one side and Giles to the other.

“We should have known you hadn't changed,” Xander said, holding his stake up threateningly.

Buffy thought she caught Faith's eyes flinch. “Xander, don't,” she warned, and she held out an arm to make sure he stayed back.

Faith's eyes remained locked on Buffy's as she took a tentative step back. Then she turned and ran. Buffy watched as the girl quickly crossed the ground toward the car she had alluded to earlier. Faith pulled open the door to the passenger seat and jumped in. The car screeched to life before the door was even closed, and Buffy's eyes followed it until it disappeared from view.

She dropped from her fighting stance with a sigh and looked over to the chest. “Well at least we have our bait,” she said half-heartedly. She tried to tell herself the fight wasn't real – that it didn't mean anything – but she had had missed the signs that something was wrong last time, and the stringing in her cheek did little to reassure her that all was well.

“Buffy, I'm sorry--” Giles began.

“Don't,” she said, holding up her hand as she cut him off. “It's not what you think.”

----------

Reassembled in Buffy's kitchen, the group stood watching as Willow rubbed a fine, greyish powder between her hands.

They had the chest, but unfortunately they'd hit a small snag. It was locked, and it didn't seem like they could easily force their way through the solid exterior. Giles had been wary that they could break the contents if they applied too much brute force, and he'd suggested they double back to the airport to look for a key. Willow, however, proposed a more direct solution, and Giles had driven her to pick up supplies.

Willow held her hands up, ashen palms facing down over the box. Her breathing slowed to a steady, controlled pace while her hands hovered in place. She spoke slowly but firmly as her hands lowered on to the lid of the chest, sliding over the surface. “Aperio. Ego imperium tu. Aperio.”

The spell was a lot less wordy than Buffy had expected, but she heard the loud, distinct click of the latch none the less. Willow beamed triumphantly as she stepped back.

“Nice work, Will,” Buffy said as she took Willow's place and grabbed hold of the chest with both hands.

“Wait!” Xander blurted out. “What if it's a bomb?”

Buffy looked at him and raised an eyebrow when she found his hands shielding his face. “It's not a bomb,” she said with confidence. Then she hesitated, looking anxiously to Giles. “Right?”

“Well I certainly hope not,” Giles said dryly. “This tie is brand new.”

“How reassuring,” Buffy muttered as she gave him a disapproving stare. She turned her attention back to the chest, eyeing it distrustfully. “Well, what's the worst that can happen?”

“Pretty much the bomb thing,” Xander answered. “Hey, maybe I should wait outside? You know, just in case your mom comes home.”

She rolled her eyes and then closed them tight before she started to pull the lid up. Nothing happened, and she cautiously took a peek. She jumped back a mile as a large creature flung itself out into the kitchen. It was a licorice black and about the size of her head. It scurried quickly on eight spider-like legs before leaping smoothly from the counter to the kitchen table.

“I've got it!” Xander shouted as he dived heroically across the table, reaching out to grab it with both hands. The creature was much quicker though, easily darting out of the way before jumping across the room to stick on the wall. Xander's momentum kept him going as he slid straight across the smooth surface. He collided shoulder first into an unsuspecting Giles, who in turn let out a startled grunt, and the two of them landed on the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Err, where did it go?” Willow asked as she started spinning in place, her eyes darting frantically about the room.

Buffy scanned the walls, and when she found nothing she looked upward instead.

“Will, move!” she warned, but even as she spoke the overgrown arachnid dropped down from the ceiling.

It landed right on top of Willow's head, and the shrill scream was enough to make Buffy wince. Willow's hands shot up to knock it off, and again the creature jumped away. That wasn't enough to calm her down though, and she feverishly ran her hands through her hair as she took cover behind Buffy. “Oh God, oh God, I'm never going to sleep again.”

Buffy had lost sight of the thing, distracted by Willow's panic. She edged forward slowly, her eyes searching from side to side and wall to ceiling while Willow whimpered from behind. She couldn't spot it anywhere, and she stopped her search just long enough to pull open a drawer in the counter and take out the largest kitchen knife she could find.

The creature darted across the wall in front of her, and she thrust the knife toward it. She was marginally too late and did nothing more than embed the knife an inch in to the wall. Her teeth clenched and she squinted her eyes; her mother was not going to approve of that. She pulled the knife back out and observed the damage, deciding that no amount of white tac was going to cover up the hole convincingly. Maybe a tactically placed potted plant though, she considered.

Forcing herself to focus, she turned to her side just in time to see the spider fly toward her face. She quickly ducked her head, narrowly avoiding the contact as it flew past her, legs first. Her eyes followed it around to watch as it landed on the refrigerator, and again she thrust the knife forward.

She didn't miss the second time, and the the creature's plump body made an audible squelching noise as the blade pierced through its flesh. It released a high pitched squeal and wriggled briefly against the blade before coming to a stop. She observed the motionless creature, wrinkling her face in disapproval. She let go of the knife and it, along with the creepy corpse, dropped to the floor.

“Is everyone OK?” she asked, looking around.

Xander and Giles were back on their feet, and both gave nods of confirmation.

“I don't think I'll ever be OK again,” Willow said glumly, her frown not shifting.

“It's alright, Will. It's gone now.” Buffy tried to comfort Willow with a reassuring smile before returning her eyes to the chest. “Now let's see what's worth the creeptastic guardian.”

“Do we really want do that that?” Willow asked, sounding more than a little concerned.

“The box isn't that big,” Buffy reasoned. “How many more can there possibly be?”

Giles stepped forward, his eyes on the chest. “Willow may be right. Perhaps we should research first and open later. Just to be safe.”

“Seconded!” Willow said instantly, and then her face slackened. “Not the opening later, just the fun research part,” she quickly amended.

Buffy couldn't deny she was curious, but it was good enough that they had it. Plus she didn't want Willow to have a complete meltdown. “OK, sure,” she agreed.

“Right then. We'll need to head back to the library. There are a few volumes there which may shed some light on the contents,” Giles said.

“Well I'd love to join you, but Faith called while you were off gathering your eye of newt. She wants to meet.”

“Do you know what she wants?” Giles asked. Buffy detected the concern in his voice. She had explained to them all that the fight at the airport was only for show, but she didn't think it was a stretch that he may have picked up on her lack of conviction.

“Didn't say.” She shrugged. “Probably just needs to punch me in the face again,” she muttered bitterly.

----------

It was well into the evening when Buffy walked into the small alleyway, and the sun had been set for some time. The alley was closed off at the other end, and it was empty but for a couple of skips and a row of trash cans. When Faith had phoned earlier, she had given directions to the meeting place which, as it turned out, was only a block or so away from Faith's hotel room. Handy for Faith. A short hike for Buffy.

Faith was leant casually against the fence in the far corner, masked in shadow where the lights along the road couldn't reach, and partially hidden from view by one of the skips. Buffy made her way to the back as well, and, after making sure it wasn't too dirty, she perched against the edge of one of the lidded bins opposite Faith.

“Well this is all very cloak and dagger,” she said in greeting.

Faith shrugged. “The boss's got vamps watching my place. After the airport thing he seems pretty worried you turn up for round two.”

“Or he doesn't trust you.”

“Nah.” Faith seemed to dismiss the idea without thought. “He definitely wasn't psyched, but you should've seen me. I totally sold it. He thought I was completely pissed, and the vamp was there to back it all up. Like clockwork, B; whatever that means.”

Buffy didn't share her pep, and she wanted to get straight to the point. “What do you want, Faith?” It came out colder than she intended. She hadn't meant to be quite so abrupt, but she couldn't help but be put off by the whole affair, and she found herself in no real mood for stories.

The light in Faith's eyes dimmed, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Right. I didn't mean to drag you out here.” The enthusiasm was lost from her voice, replaced by glimpses of insecurity that Buffy hadn't seen much of until the past few days. Faith averted her eyes, moving a short distance away as she gazed out over the road that ran past the alley.

Seeing the complete change in demeanour, Buffy felt a tinge of guilt. “I'm sorry, it's not you. I'm just being cranky,” she lied. She was being cranky, but it was very much because of Faith. The girl just seemed to have a way of getting under her skin sometimes, and it had pretty much been that way from day one.

Faith didn't respond, and silence filled the night, broken up only by the occasional passing car. Buffy stared at the ground, her eyes following a small beetle as it skittered across the length of the alley. It disappeared through a gap between two fence posts just as Faith spoke up.

“Hey, B.“

Buffy's head rose at the sound of the voice, and she found Faith looking back at her once more.

“Back there, I would have stepped in if – I wouldn't have just stood there, you know?“

Buffy studied the solemn look on Faith's face and could find no real reason to doubt her. Is that why Faith had call her there, Buffy wondered. She couldn't know for sure, but she did realize that once again Faith was making more of an effort than she was, and that made her feel like a jerk. If this was going to work – if they were going to work – she knew she had to truly get over the things that Faith had done. It was one thing to tell Faith they were OK, but she needed to let herself believe it as well. Trust was not something that came easily to her – not anymore – but she had told Faith to take a chance, and now Faith was doing exactly that, even after everything that had happened. She knew she owed it to Faith to do the same.

“I know,” she said softly, and she meant it.

The words seemed to bring an instant boost to Faith's spirit, and a small smile made its way across her face. After a few seconds she slyly added, “But just so you know, I'd totally have taken you if I was trying.”

At first Buffy was unsure of how to respond, but then Faith's smile widened to a playful grin, and Buffy couldn't help but smile herself. “Yeah? The important thing is you believe that,” she returned in jest. Then something occurred to her. “While we're on the subject, we should really agree to stop with the face punching. And when I say we I pretty much mean you. It's nothing personal, but I'd rather not be bruised in my graduation photos.”

“Sorry, B, don't like to make promises I can't keep,” Faith replied easily.

Buffy looked away, shaking her head as she felt her mouth widen in to a grin of her own.

They lapsed back into silence, but Buffy didn't find it as awkward. She was content to focus on the soft breeze that blew across her back as she took in the scene. Something about it just felt so, well, right. OK, sure, they were skulking around in alleyways, hiding from their enemies. But they were together. Like everything hadn't spun crazily out of control. She knew it wasn't over – not yet – but for the first time she wasn't just hoping it would all work out. She was willing to believe it as well.

“When this is all over, do you think...” Faith began, bringing Buffy out of her thoughts.

Buffy waited for her to finish, but when nothing more came she looked over at Faith, whose downcast eyes stared at nothing but a patch of empty ground.

“Do I think what?”

It took a moment before Faith met her look. “Nothing,” she said with no real conviction, and Buffy caught a glimpse of her fleeting furrowed brow. “So what's in the box?”

Buffy wondered what Faith had wanted to ask, but she went along with the subject change. “Oh yeah, some creepy, overgrown tarantula. It totally ran amok in my kitchen.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “No way!”

“It had fangs, and glowing, red eyes and everything,” Buffy exaggerated.

“So basically, cool new pet?”

Buffy eyed Faith curiously. It wasn't quite the response she has expected, though perhaps she should have known better.

“What?” Faith asked after there was no response, completely oblivious, and Buffy couldn't help but laugh.

“I think I'm really more of a dog person.”

There was one more thing Buffy needed to take care of that night, and so a block away she was doing just that. That being getting a message to the mayor. She didn't know what the strange chest was for yet, but if the mayor was trying to get his hands on it then it was obviously important. All she had to was arrange a meeting, and she had decided to convince an unlucky someone to play delivery vamp.

Faith had told her where one of the cronies watching Faith's apartment was staked out, and Buffy had already made the introductions. At first she had simply tried to talk to the thing, but now she found it coming at her for a fourth time. It clearly wasn't the smartest member of the undead population, and she easily spun to her side as it charged past her. She kicked out at its back, sending it hurtling to the concrete. It slid across the ground, its knees grinding against the rough concrete.

"You really aren't making this easy on yourself," she commented, feeling inclined to talk even though she had gotten nothing more than growls in return.

Despite having to deal with the masochistically stubborn vampire, she found herself in a chipper mood. The talk with Faith had not only given her a much needed helping of reassurance, but it had also been pleasantly void of fighting. They had managed to make small talk for a good while without any real drama or violence. Definitely a huge tick in the progress column, and a nice change of pace from what had otherwise been a long week. She was feeling good, and that fed her the patience that was keeping the vampire alive.

“I've got no other plans so we can do this all night if you like. Or you can just tell the mayor I have what he wants, and that the only way he's going to get it is to meet me at the church on avenue 64 tomorrow night.”

Back on its feet, freshly ripped jeans and all, it moved in to attack again. She tilted her head to the left, easily avoiding its hurried swing, and then responded by clocking it hard on its nose with the back of her fist. It growled in pain as it stumbled back, both hands shooting up to comfort its bleeding nose.

Buffy casually pulled out her stake. “Or I can always find someone else?” she offered, giving the vampire a cheerful smile as she waved the weapon back and forth in front of its beady eyes.

The vampire didn't advance again, and the lines on its already crinkled forehead seemed to ripple a little more. It took a while to respond, perhaps weighing up its very limited options, and Buffy tapped her foot while she waited.

“OK,” it said in a throaty voice.

Buffy smiled in victory. “See, now was that so bad? Avenue 64. Tomorrow. 10 o'clock. Got it?”

The vampire nodded, but then continued to stand there staring at her.

“Well?” she said after a moment, and she ushered it away with a hand gesture. It gave one final growl before it turned and made its exit, fleeing quickly as if it was worried she'd change her mind.

With any luck the mayor would take the bait, and then she'd stop him once and for all. And with almost an entire week to spare before graduation.

----------

Early the next morning Buffy found herself back at the alleyway from the previous night. With the sun rising in the sky, the area looked more grubby than she had realized, leading her to opt to remain standing as she waited for Faith to arrive.

Ten minutes later she began to wonder how it was even possible for the girl to show up so late despite practically being able to see the alley from her apartment. Sure enough though, Faith arrived a further five minutes later, her casual stroll suggesting she hadn't hurried to make up for lost time.

“Glad you could make it,” Buffy joked. “Sleep in?”

“Long night,” was Faith's only answer to the question. “The mayor got your message. Loud and clear.”

“Good. I wasn't sure if that vamp had the mental capacity to find his way there, yet alone remember an entire half dozen words.” She smiled. “The mayor clearly has his best people watching you.”

Faith's nose wrinkled. “What would you know?” Her hand found its way to her hip.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, Faith's overly aggressive reply taking her by surprise. “Sounds like somebody got out of bed on the grumpy side this morning,” she said, not really sure what the problem was.

Faith stared at her for a few moments before responding. “Whatever.”

“So,” Buffy began cautiously, eager to move on. “Will he be at the church?”

“He'll be there,” Faith confirmed. “Won't be alone though.”

“Figured as much.” Buffy would have been more surprised if the mayor didn't take his undead employees. It wouldn't matter; she wasn't going to be alone either.

“He knows this isn't a trade. The way he tells it, you ain't walking out of that church.”

“Trust me, the feeling's mutual.”

“Yeah, but last I checked you weren't rocking the immortality.”

Buffy had trouble reading Faith's expression. Her face didn't give much away, but at least the earlier look of annoyance had faded. Buffy thought Faith sounded almost impressed though, if that was even the right word. “We'll find a way to undo it,” she said with complete confidence. “The guys are working on it now.”

A smirk tugged at one side of Faith's mouth. “What, Red? The boss has been at this for a hundred years, and your grand plan is the pencil floater? I'm sure he's already running for the hills.”

“Don't be so quick to sell her short. She's come through before.”

Faith shrugged as she began to move across the alley, her eyes wandering away.

Buffy could have done without the scepticism, but Faith didn't know Willow like she did. “What about you, Faith?”

“What's that?” Faith continued her casual pacing down the length of the alleyway, but her eyes made their way back to Buffy.

“When this goes down, I have to assume you'll be there?”

Faith gave another nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, he wants you out of the picture.” She cocked her head. “Didn't even have to ask.”

“Well that makes sense. He wants you to do his dirty work again.”

“Employee of the month.” Faith motioned to herself with her hands, a glint in her eye. She came to a stop facing Buffy. A thin, lopsided smile danced on her face. “Not nervous, are you?”

“Should I be?” Buffy asked flatly, quickly losing patience with Faith's flippant behaviour.

Faith's only response was a flash of her teeth as she gave a quick grin.

“This isn't a game, Faith,” Buffy said, her exasperation getting the better of her.

Faith's smile slipped away. “Jeez, lighten up. I'm only joking.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you don't seem particularly thrilled about any of this, so I just want to make sure you're OK with what's going to happen.” It was Buffy's turn to shrug, and she did so with a forced indifference, echoing Faith's earlier care-free action. “You know, him being your boss and all,” she added sarcastically.

Faith glared at Buffy as if she'd just kicked a puppy. Twice. “Well excuse me. I'm just trying to make sure you don't walk into a death trap. But hey, you know best, B, as ever.”

The snarky tone did nothing to soothe Buffy's growing irritation. She really didn't need this first thing in the morning, or at any other time of the day for that matter. “I am well aware that this isn't an ideal situation, but we don't all have the luxury of taking an extended vacation when things get tough,” she shot back.

Faith let out an amused snort. “Funny, cause that's not the way I heard it.”

Buffy grit her teeth and clenched her fists tight. She could feel her fingernails threatening to break through the skin on the palms of her hands, but it was all she could do to keep from retaliating. She forced a slow, deep breath through her nose before she replied. “Can we please not do this?”

“You started it,” Faith replied instantly, clearly not ready to back down.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “What, are we in fourth grade now?”

“Why? You have a stick up your ass back then too?”

Buffy found her mouth gaping open of its own accord. She couldn't believe how ridiculous Faith was being. “You know what, I think I'd feel a lot safer if you just stayed out of this entire thing.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Faith crossed her arms, her shoulders squared, and her unblinking eyes pierced through Buffy. The two of them traded stares in a silent stand-off. Buffy began to feel nervous under Faith's thorny gaze, but she wasn't going to let that show. She forced her arms to stay down by her sides, but her muscles were tensed, ready to defend herself if Faith lashed out. She wanted to get out of there, but she refused to back down; Faith was the one being difficult. Buffy could have gotten the information she needed over the phone. She'd only shown up in person to see how Faith was holding up, and this was the thanks she got.

“Screw this,” Faith said, breaking the deadlock, her face contorting back into a look of disgust. Her arms dropped to her sides as she began to move past Buffy.

Buffy let out a frustrated sigh and put her hand on Faith's arm. “Faith, wait.” Faith shrugged her off as she shoved past. “Faith!” Buffy said more sternly, turning to keep her eyes on the other girl.

“Good luck,” Faith threw back, belligerent rather than supportive. She didn't look back, and her brisk pace took her around the corner and out of sight before Buffy could decide whether to follow.

Left alone in the alley, she shook her head in disbelief. “Great. Now there's a nice, stable girl you can count on.”

----------

“OK guys, give me some good news,” Buffy said as she walked into the Sunnydale High library.

Willow, Xander, Oz and Giles were huddled around a table. Several open books were scattered across the surface, and closed ones sat stacked to the side of an empty doughnut box.

“Someone's locked Snyder in his office,” Xander said. “He's been trapped in there since first period. Every now and then you can just make out his tiny cries for help.”

Buffy attempted to smile. “You're right. That is good news.” Despite that, she didn't find herself buoyed. It was going to take more than a bad day for the principal to improve her mood, but she kept it to herself. Faith was her problem, not theirs. The problem that just kept on giving. She tried not to dwell on it too much – there'd be time to worry about Faith later.

“Perhaps somebody should let him out,” Giles said, looking up. Buffy stared at him as if he had grown horns. “A-at some point,” he added, frowning briefly before returning to his book.

“I'd recommend post-graduation,” Oz offered.

“I don't know,” Xander said. “Before I leave I need to to kneel down, look that man in the eyes, and tell him that I fear him no longer.”

“For a minute there I was wondering where you were going with that. With the kneeling.”

“He's short,” Xander clarified, and Oz gave a single nod.

“So anyway,” Willow began, a hint of amusement on her face when she turned to Buffy, “how did it go with Faith?”

“Great!” Buffy answered, far quicker and more enthusiastically than she had meant to. She plastered a large smile on her face.

There was an odd silence, and Buffy found herself waiting but not quite sure what for.

Willow eyed her curiously before she spoke. “So will he be there?”

“Who?“ Buffy said, taking a beat before she realized what Willow had actually been asking about. “Oh. Right. Yes, even. We're a go.”

“Well that's unfortunate,” Xander said, flipping the book in front of him closed and slouching back in his chair, “because we got nadda.”

“Well that's not true,” Oz countered. “There was that whole thing with the cats and the runic stones.”

Xander shook his head. “That was for muting doomsayers.”

Oz looked away into space for a second. “So it was.”

“Wonderful,” Buffy muttered as she dropped down into the free chair alongside Xander. She slumped forward to let her arms and head rest on the table. “If someone could just wake me up after the world ends, that'd be good.”

“Don't worry, Buff, we'll find something,” Xander said cheerfully. “Sure, it might be after the mayor has killed us all and used our bones for soup, but mark my words, we'll find something.”

Buffy wasn't so sure, and challenging the mayor to fight night suddenly seemed a little rash. Maybe Faith was right; maybe she was going to end up walking in to her death. How unfitting would that be? Taking out all sorts of vampires and demons just to end up losing to what looked like some regular guy wearing a suit and a cheerful smile. Not that she had a particular preference for her way out, but she was kind of hoping to at least see her early twenties. She hadn't even owned a car yet.

“Aha!” Giles shouted, the excitement in his voice grabbing Buffy's attention.

“What?” she asked, her head snapping up instantly.

“Oh wait, sorry. That says reserve, not reverse.” He gave her an apologetic look.

She groaned and let herself flop back down. She knew already that it was going to be a long day. A really, really long day.

----------

“It all comes down to determination and strength of mind,” Wesley noted enthusiastically. “With the right attitude there are no limits.”

On the one hand Buffy wanted to get up and strangle him. On the other, he was stood close by and she figured she could probably reach without leaving her seat. She was mostly sure he had good intentions, but the unnecessary pep talk was doing nothing for her. Not that she thought it was aimed at her, or anyone else in particular. He seemed to be addressing the room in general after Xander had made the mistake of questioning whether they were getting anywhere.

“Self-belief is our greatest ally, and doubt our most fearsome enemy,” Wesley continued as he paced dramatically around the table.

Giles grimaced, his look stuck somewhere between questioning amusement and utter disbelief as he made his way over to Wesley from his office. “Are you trying to suggest that we've spent the last six hours looking through these bloody books because we're not eager enough to find the answer?”

“Precisely! The council are very keen to stress the importance of mental conviction these days, for Slayers and watchers both. And I wholeheartedly agree. You musn't let these things get you down.”

“In the interests of fair warning, I think I'm going to hit you now, you pillock,” Giles said, though instead he handed Wesley one of two mugs, keeping the other for himself.

Wesley cupped the mug graciously while tutting his disapproval. “Now Mr. Giles, that's not the attitude I'm talking about.”

“Not even if I go about it in a very determined manner?”

Wesley looked uncertain, and he let out a nervous laugh. His eyes briefly flicked to Buffy as if he expected her to help. “That was, uh, a joke, yes?”

“Oh. Oh!” Willow interrupted. “I think I've found something.”

“Does it say reserve?” Buffy asked, drawing a wry look from Giles. She shrugged innocently. “I'm sure it's a common mistake.”

Willow smiled as she slid the book across the table toward Buffy, but Giles was quick to intercept it. He held the book up in his free hand, occasionally taking a careful sip from the steaming mug in his other as he ran his eyes over the text. “This is a complicated spell, Willow,” he said before returning the book to the table.

“But could it work?” Buffy asked, eyeing the page without bothering to actually read it.

“Perhaps,” Giles said, his eyes remaining on Willow. “Without knowing the exact nature of the mayor's power it's hard to say for sure.”

“Well that's still a big step up from nothing.”

“And I'm completely ready,” Willow said earnestly. “I've been practising a lot lately, and I'm getting really good. So sure, Amy's still a rat, but the other day I'm sure I made her tail grow.” She frowned at Buffy's questioning look before focusing on Giles. “OK, so maybe that's not my greatest defence ever, but I want to help, Giles, and I know I can do this.”

“Then I'd say we have a plan.” Buffy said, and she gave Willow a supportive smile that was returned in kind.

“Very well,” Giles said after a short pause. “Willow, why don't you and Oz go to the magic shop and pick up the requisite supplies? I'll keep looking into this spell to make sure there are no unexpected side affects. Wesley, you switch your focus to the box of Gavrok.” He looked at the other watcher with a tired expression. “I'm sure with your mental conviction it shouldn't take too long,” he finished dryly.

“I'm already on it,” Wesley said as he energetically sprang up the stairs to the stacks.

“Wait, the who of the what now?” Buffy asked, suddenly registering words she didn't understand. There's a box of gravel, she asked herself, frowning.

“The box of Gavrok,” Giles repeated, and Buffy looked at him blankly. “The chest we intercepted at the airport. We found some information regarding its origin, though no clue as to why the mayor might need it as of yet. Did I not mention that?”

“You really kinda didn't.”

“Speaking of which,” Willow interjected, “as it turns out, there's an awful lot of those giant, horrible things in there. 'How many more can there be.'” She gave Buffy a mock look of disapproval.

Buffy smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Gee, sorry Will.”

“You would have been when we were drowning in an army of Spiders,” she said sulkily, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

“You're never going to get over that, are you?”

Willow's bottom lip jutted out. “Not likely.”

Giles finished scrawling on a piece of paper and handed it to Willow. He took the book containing the spell and moved toward his office while Willow and Oz made for the exit.

“I guess that leaves you and me on weapons duty,” Buffy said, looking to Xander.

“Finally, the good stuff. This whole reading thing isn't all it's cracked up to be,” he said as he held a book up before tossing it lazily across the table. “Half a day gone and I'm about as knowledgeable as I was when I woke up this morning.”

Buffy got to her feet and began making her way over to the weapons cabinet with Xander in tow. “That's why I try and stick to the slaying. Punch, kick, stake, job done.”

“No fuss, no mess, and home in time for Beverly Hills.”

“Exactly,” she said instinctively before pausing and looking over her shoulder to give him a puzzled look. “Well, maybe not that last part.”

A small army marched down avenue 64. Buffy led the way, followed closely by Xander, Willow, Giles, Wesley, Oz, and Angel. It was crosses, stakes and bows all around, and they were all ready for a fight. Buffy hadn't brought the box, but if the mayor was going to be there for the same reason she was then it wouldn't matter. That meant he was confident, but was that because he thought Faith was the ace up his sleeve? Buffy was more hoping Faith would be the joker in the pack, though she wasn't even sure if the girl would show. She'd made three calls earlier that evening, but each time the phone had rang endlessly without answer. Either Faith's company had kept her from talking, or she'd bailed and was who knows where.

Even if Faith was already half way to Nevada, Buffy knew that the mayor would still meet them. She had always been able to feel the big nights. The Master. Angelus. She may not have seen what was coming, but she knew when it was time. Once they had moved into full view of the church, the line of five vampires that stood by the entrance to the building was nothing more than a confirmation she didn't need.

“Guess he's already inside,” she commented, mostly to herself.

“Can he even do that?” Willow asked. “Shouldn't he, I don't know, go up in flames or something?”

“Sadly I don't think that's the way it works,” Buffy replied. “Giles says even vampires can enter as they please.”

“But he is a politician,” Oz pointed out.

“Good point,” she said. “Well, here's hoping.” She looked over at Willow. “But failing that, are you ready for this?”

Willow took the backpack from her shoulder and held it up as if for inspection. “As I'll ever be.”

“OK. Once you start, chances are the vamps are going to come say hi.”

“And we'll be waiting,” Angel said, stepping forward. “We'll keep her safe while she does the spell.”

She nodded. “I know you will. And thank you.” She looked around at each of them. “All of you. I know you didn't have to come with me tonight.”

“Just give him hell and we'll call it even,” Xander said, giving her a firm nod.

Buffy gave him a small smile before her eyes roamed back to the church, looking past the vampires to the large, wooden doors that lead inside. “Then I guess this is it.”

“Be careful,” Giles offered.

She slowly made her way up the uneven, stone path to the old building. The vampires parted to the sides to allow her through. Their eyes watched her hungrily, but they made no move to attack her as she took the steps to the looming church doors. She took one last look back at her friends to find Willow already setting up on the floor. The rest of them had formed a line in front, weapons raised, ready to face the crowd of vampires when they advanced. Buffy wanted to stay and help with the fight, but she knew she couldn't. The mayor wouldn't stick around for long once a large scale fight broke out.

She pushed one half of the sturdy, wooden doors open and cautiously stepped inside. Mayor Wilkins was hunched over toward the far end of the church. It wasn't until she moved farther inside that she could see him enthusiastically rubbing at the top of the lectern with a cloth.

If the loud bang from the church door closing behind her didn't get his attention, the clomping of her shoes against the stone floor must have. He straightened up and glanced in her direction, his blank expression unchanging. He took his time to neatly fold the cloth and return it to his jacket pocket before making a show of looking at his watch. “9:59,” he said, a smile coming across his face. “I do appreciate a girl who's punctual.”

“I wasn't going to miss this,” she said from the middle of the church aisle.

“No, I didn't suppose you would.” His eyes honed in on her right hand. “But that doesn't look like my box you're holding there. Should I be concerned that I won't be receiving it tonight?”

“Oh don't worry, you're going to get it all right.” She slowly twirled the dagger around in her hand, allowing the mayor a good look at it.

“I see,” he said evenly. “Well I can't say I'm all that surprised. You know what they say about honour and thieves.”

“You're one to talk,” she said, taking a single, tentative step forward. “So how is this going to work? A bit of banter? Maybe a few threats? Because if we just skipped to the part where I kill you then I'd really be OK with that.”

“Oh, but I didn't come here to fight,“ he said earnestly, and Buffy's eyebrows rose sceptically. “However there's a friend of mine whom you've made quite the impression on, and I think she'd like to have a word with you if that's quite alright.” He paused for a moment. “Faith,” he called out, lacking his earlier jovial tang.

Buffy kept her face neutral as Faith emerged from a room at the back end of the church. The girl took her time as she made her away over to stand by the mayor, her eyes trailing along the floor all the way. Even when she stopped, her head stayed bowed, her gaze landing somewhere in front of Buffy's feet.

“You see,” Wilkins continued, “running for office isn't easy, and it's certainly not something you do alone. You need the support of your peers if you're going to succeed. And it doesn't stop when you get there, oh no. Once you make it to the top there's always someone, or something, waiting to stab you in the back. And that's why it's so important to have people you can count on.”

Buffy hoped his confidence was misplaced. “I guess that's the problem with politics then,” she said. “You really can't trust anybody these days.”

She looked at Faith expectantly, waiting for something to happen. It took a moment before Faith looked up, catching her eye for the first time. Buffy hadn't really noticed it that morning, but Faith looked tired. Her eyes sagged at the corners, and faint shadows hung below them. The contact didn't last long before Faith looked to her side. Away from Buffy. Away from the mayor.

The mayor was watching Faith as well, a look of curiosity on his face. Buffy swallowed hard, trying to dampen her dry throat. Hundreds of tiny pins prickled up and down her arms for what seemed like an eternity.

Faith briefly met the mayor's look before her eyes dipped to stare at his chest. She took one step back from him, followed by a second. He watched her carefully, and then his face drooped, his cheerful smile vanishing for the first time. “Oh no, surely not. Not my Faith.”

“Sorry, boss,” Faith said quietly. “I guess we're just not meant to be.”

He regarded her with sorrow. “Now, Faith, I'm not sure you've fully thought this through.”

Faith shrugged, but her evasive eyes betrayed the indifference. “Never really my strong point.”

“It wasn't so long ago when you first turned up on my doorstep, frightened and lost. No purpose, nowhere to go. So tell me, Faith, where was Buffy then?” There was compassion in his voice, venom briefly appearing only when he referred to Buffy by name. “I'll tell you where. She was off making time with a vampire, while you were all alone. But I took you in. And I gave you more than just a place to stay. I gave you a place where you could matter. Where you could truly belong.”

It still hadn't properly sunk in for Buffy, just how bad a state Faith had reached, but the fact that the mayor's words rang true left her feeling uneasy. She watched as Faith shifted her balance, as her hands awkwardly clutched at the pockets of her dark, denim jeans.

“Things are different now,” Buffy interjected. She looked at Faith, trying to grab her attention, but Faith's eyes were locked on the mayor.

“Are they really?” The mayor wasn't talking to Buffy. “Where did you spend your day, Faith? Was it at school, with them? Were you taking part in their secret little meetings? No. Of course not.”

Buffy had a counter-argument for that. The council could have shown up – it wasn't safe. It just sounded so weak, even in her head, that she couldn't bring herself to share it. How the hell was she coming up second best against a monster? She looked down at her watch as she tried to stay focused. She only needed five more minutes.

“You were in my office, with me, preparing for the big day.” Wilkins stepped closer to Faith. “Our big day.”

Buffy looked on, her quickening pulse making it difficult to concentrate on the mayor's words. The certainty she had felt about everything turning out well was quickly wavering. Faith was going to choose the mayor, and the worst part was she couldn't even blame her. When Faith needed it, he had been there, and what was she doing? She was trying. Trying? She suddenly found herself with a strong distaste for that word. More so when she realized that back then, when it had truly mattered most, she'd barely even done that.

The mayor seemed to have an entire speech prepared, every word of it aimed at tearing her down. “How long until Buffy and her friends cast you aside? With them you'll always be on the outside looking in.” Faith's head dropped, and she didn't flinch when the mayor put the side of his hand under her chin and nudged it back up. “But you'll always be my right hand girl, Faith.”

Buffy had heard enough. “OK, this is getting a little creepy now.” She knew her voice lacked the confidence she would have liked, and she doubted she'd been able to cover up the increasing sense of dread she felt, but she didn't dare let the mayor continue.

It was enough to draw his attention. He turned toward her, a leer forming on his face. Strolling forward, hands in pockets, his eyes accused her of heinous crimes. “You just can't bare to see anyone else happy, can you?”

Faith moved after him before he had gotten far, and there was dampness in her eyes. She grabbed the mayor around his arm. “Don't.” Her voice was quiet, the single word sounding more like a request than an order.

He sighed, and his forehead crinkled as he regarded her with soft, dismayed eyes. “I'm sorry, Faith. I wish it didn't have to be this way.” His free hand shot from his pocket and on to Faith's head. A light burst out from the point of contact, bright enough to make Buffy squint.

“Faith!” Buffy ran forward and, even as the mayor removed his hand from Faith, kicked out to send him stumbling back. He knocked into the side of the lectern, his hands urgently grabbing hold of it to barely keep himself on his feet. Faith dropped to her knees, and Buffy was down just as fast to stop her falling any farther. “Faith?” she said again, carefully guiding Faith's head to look at her.

“I don't... feel...” Faith's murmurs died away, her lips staying slimly parted. Her cloudy eyes fluttered shut as she collapsed limply into Buffy's supporting arms.

“What did you do to her?” Buffy demanded, glaring up at the mayor as he casually straightened his tie.

He lifted one of the Shards of Ursula up in front of his face. It gleamed much more brightly than the one Buffy had seen back at the museum. He stared at it intently as he twirled it between his fingers and thumb. “That was meant for you. You've been quite the troublemaker since showing up in Sunnydale, let me tell you. And quite frankly I didn't expect you to bring me my box. But if there's one thing I've learnt in my considerable time on this planet, it's to always have a contingency plan.”

Buffy looked back to Faith. She could see the girl's chest slowly shifting in and out, but there was no other movement.

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about her too much. She'll be fine.” He paused, and then his voice lowered. “Better than fine, once you're out of the picture.”

He held the shard forward, and a bolt of pale blue energy shot out toward Buffy. Still clutching Faith, Buffy rolled to the side, taking them both out of the firing line. Her eyes trailed the bolt as it narrowly flew past them and landed against the far wall. It exploded in a vicious burst, sending large chunks of stone debris hurtling in all directions.

“Whoa!” Wilkins yelled, his eyes lighting up to level the brightness of the shard. He gave a short, upbeat laugh that verged on maniacal. “Well wasn't that neat. I'll tell you this for nothing: they don't make magical artefacts like these any more. No sir. I can't wait to see what all three of them can do.”

Buffy carefully lay Faith down on her back, easing her head down to rest on the stone floor. She took one long, worried look down at the unconscious girl before getting to her feet. She strafed away to make sure Faith wouldn't be caught in the fight. “Then it's too bad you're never going to find out,” she said, her anger building rapidly.

“You know what your problem is, young lady?” he asked, taking a step forward. “Arrogance. How old are you? Seventeen, eighteen? And you think you can stop me? I've spent a century putting everything together ready for the big day. Preparing every detail for every contingency. Do you honestly think I'm going to let a nasty, little miscreant like you ruin everything I've worked so hard to build?”

“You know what your problem is, Dick?” Buffy said as she also moved to close the gap. “You talk too much.”

She leapt forward with her knife clutched tightly in hand. She didn't even make it into striking distance before the shard pulsed. A wave of energy rushed over her, cold enough to raise every hair on her skin. The force was overwhelming, blurring her vision and sending her catapulting back through the air with ease. When she landed, it was hard on her side, and the momentum sent her rolling across the ground.

She let out a pained groan once she came to a stop. She gingerly pushed herself to her knees, her hand pressing against her pained side as she stole another glance at her watch. It was time.

“You're a feisty little thing, aren't you? I'm betting there's enough juice in you to fill up both my other shards. Granted, you probably won't survive the process, but I know my Faith will be better off with you gone.”

As if on cue, Faith began to stir. She let out a small groan as her hand absently moved to rest on her forehead. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she stared up at the church ceiling. It proved enough of a distraction to the mayor, and while he continued to look at the waking girl Buffy used the opening to throw her knife forward. It flew through the air with speed and precision until it pierced straight through flesh. It embedded itself in the side of the mayor's neck, bringing a smile to Buffy's face. The mayor stepped back as he winced in pain, and she waited expectantly for him to go down.

“Well now, that wasn't very thoughtful, was it?” he said, looking nothing more than a little miffed as he pulled the knife straight out in a single tug.

Buffy watched as the wound healed, his skin sewing itself shut before even a single drop of blood could spill down the front of his shirt. “Oh,” she said to herself, her smile slipping; that really wasn't supposed to be happening still.

“I think it's about darn time somebody taught you some manners.”

A loud bang from behind grabbed Buffy's attention. The church doors had flown open, one side slamming hard enough against the wall to break it from its hinges. Before it even had time to fall to the floor, Angel charged through the opening, his hands wrapped tightly around the neck of another vampire. Another followed behind him, pausing at the threshold. Its gaze ran uncertainly around the edge of the doorway before it entered.

“It didn't work,” Angel shouted out whilst he traded blows with the two vampires.

“Yeah? Tell me something I don't know,” Buffy said, her gaze flicking back and forth between Angel and the mayor.

Faith had made her way back to her feet and was slowly shaking the cobwebs away as her dimmed eyes looked groggily at Buffy.

“Are you OK?” Buffy called out to her.

“Five by five,” she responded, even as her legs almost gave way beneath her. Her knees buckled, and her hands shot out to the side as she tried to keep herself on her feet.

“Get out of here,” Buffy ordered.

“No way, B. I've got this.”

Angel's fist caught one vampire low in the stomach, doubling it over, before a punch to the face from the other sent him spinning to the ground. Faith moved in to intercept, aiming a trio of punches into the vampire's midsection. It barely flinched and swung its fist out in retaliation, easily swatting her to the ground. She let out a groan as she hit the floor, and she was down long enough to allow the vampire to dive on top of her. Its head moved down, its fangs quickly homing in on her neck.

“Faith!” Buffy shouted as she abandoned her stand off with the mayor. Faith was writhing around as she tried to free herself, but making little in the way of progress as the vampire kept her arms pinned down by her sides. Buffy grabbed it by the collar of its shirt and dragged it to its feet. She pulled out her stake with her free hand and thrust it into the vampire's heart. It exploded into a cloud of dust, and Faith shielded her eyes as the remains dropped down over her. With the vampire gone, Buffy extended her hand to help Faith up.

“Down!” Faith shouted.

Instinctively Buffy ducked to a low crouch, and she watched as another blast of energy shot over her head. She turned to Angel just in time to see him dispatch of the other vampire. “Help Faith,” she called out to him. She moved quickly away, drawing the mayor's attention as she circled around.

“Hey!” Faith warned from Buffy's side. “Try and carry me out of here and I'll stake you myself.”

Buffy looked over to see Angel bent down as if he was ready to scoop Faith up into his arms. He was frozen in place, clearly unsure of what to do, and he gave Buffy an unsure look.

Smirking just a little, Buffy shrugged before turning back to the mayor. She watched out the corner of her eye as Angel instead pulled Faith to her feet and began guiding her toward the exit. She gave them time to get clear before she too started to back away.

“You're not leaving already, are you?” he asked. “But we've got so much to discuss. Such as how I'm going to kill everyone you've ever met unless you bring me my box.” The mayor's smile was as much eerie as it was cheerful, and the tone of his voice suggested the threat was very much real.

She continued to back away while the mayor stood his ground, unwilling to turn her back on him until she was safely out through the church doorway. She had barely made it to the bottom of the steps before Willow reached her. “I'm sorry, Buffy, I don't know what happened. It seemed to be working, but then – nothing. I tried to start again, but I couldn't. I couldn't--”

“It's OK, Will, it's not your fault,” she said, pulling the babbling Willow away from the building as she shot a glance back toward the church.

They joined the rest of the group, including Angel and Faith, and as one they retreated back the way they had come. Buffy looked back over her shoulder to find the mayor stood in the open doorway to the church. He watched her with a sombre expression that left her rubbing at her bare arms, his unblinking, emotionless eyes trailing her doggedly until she was out of sight.

The deflated group – sans Angel, who had had left once they'd arrived back at the school – were scattered about the library. A mixture of grim and worried faces were the only things Buffy found when she looked around the room.

“Tell me again exactly what happened,” Giles said as he rubbed at his tired, reddened eyes.

Buffy let out a small sigh. She'd already been through it in detail on their way back. “It's pretty simple, Giles. Mayor uses shard on Faith. Faith goes down. Then suddenly the mayor is juiced up in a big way, and...” She stopped mid sentence and took a quick glance at Faith before deciding Giles could fill in the blanks for himself.

“And at what point did this happen?”

“I don't know. Maybe five minutes before Angel showed up.”

His brow furrowed. “Interesting. That's about the same time Willow's spell started to decline.”

“You think the shard blocked it?” Willow asked.

“It can't be a coincidence.”

“It makes sense,” Buffy agreed. “I couldn't even get close to him. When I tried, something shot out of the shard, and Giles, my skin is still crawling. That thing is bad news in a big way.”

“I had little doubt of that, but infused with the strength of a Slayer? I'd say that's an understatement.”

“But her powers can't just be gone forever, right?” she asked hopefully. “I mean that's never happened before, has it?”

“I don't believe it has, but I'm not aware of anything in the council's records regarding the loss of a Slayer's abilities at all.” He stopped, his eyes catching Buffy's before turning down to stare at the table.

Suddenly everyone was quiet, the only sound in the room coming from Xander's fingers as they tapped absent mindedly against the edge of the table. "What?" he asked, his head turning between Buffy and Giles. Buffy shot him a warning look, and he quickly quietened down again, even his fingers freezing in place.

The silence lingered for several uncomfortable moments until it was broken by Cordelia. “Well here's a surprise,” she started, the second she had entered through the library doors. She stopped a few feet in, leaving the rest of her thought unvoiced. She looked about, her eyes wandering between the piles of books, weapons, and spell ingredients that littered the tables and floor. “Wait. Is there about to be a battle here? Because if there is I can totally come back in ten minutes.”

“Been and gone,” Oz commented.

"Yeah, it looks it," she said, nodding her head as she took a second glance over the room. "How'd it go?"

“Generally speaking?” Buffy asked. “It sucked.”

“Oh,” Cordelia said, sounding a little disheartened. “You weren't hurt, were you?”

Buffy was about to respond, surprised that Cordelia had actually managed to sound concerned, but she quickly realized that the question was aimed at Wesley.

Wesley also noticed that Cordelia's gaze was on him, and he became instantly flustered. “N-no. Err, not at all. In fact, I'm – yes, I'm very well thank you.”

“His valiant position of cowering behind Willow pretty much kept him safe from any chance of actual danger,” Xander piped up.

“That was not cowering. I was merely ensuring that nobody attacked us from behind.” He gave a brief nod, almost as if he was agreeing with himself. “Strategy,” he began slowly as he raised a finger to the air, “is the key to victory.”

“Yeah? Well there wasn't a whole lot of that today,” Buffy said, her disappointment obvious.

“Strategy?” he asked.

“Victory,” she snapped, irritated that he even had to ask.

Cordelia raised her eyebrows Buffy's way. “Well aren't we a sore loser.”

“Cordelia,” Buffy said, exasperated, “if you have something useful to say then say it. Otherwise please shut up or go away. Preferably both.“

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Grouchy much,” she muttered under her breath, and Buffy had to bite her tongue. “So anyway,” she said, seemingly unfazed by Buffy's words, “I was just on my way to The Bronze, and I figured you crazy party people would all be here. I was just wondering if anybody would like to accompany me?” Once again it was obvious that Wesley was the real target of the question, and Buffy found herself having to stifle a groan.

Wesley cleared his throat and straightened up, raising his previously slouched shoulders. “Well, yes, it would be my pleasure – I mean, I would be honoured.” His smile drooped. “U-unfortunately now is perhaps not an appropriate time.”

Buffy couldn't decide which one of Wesley and Cordelia looked the most disappointed, but it was hardly any concern of hers.

“Well if you change your mind I'll be there until closing time,” Cordelia said, flashing Wesley a toothy smile.

“Does anybody else really want to barf right about now?” Xander asked, earning a steely glare from Cordelia.

“Well, Xander, I'd ask if you wanted to join me, but oh – I'd rather drop dead.”

“Fingers crossed,” he shot back, holding his hand up in demonstration.

They silently glared at each other for a short time before Cordelia turned to leave. As she made her way out, Buffy found herself watching Faith out the corner of her eye. Faith was stood alone, silent and motionless at the side of the room. She had been that way since they had gotten to the library, her arms crossed tightly in front of her stomach and her eyes staring vacantly across the room.

“Now can we please get back to stuff that actually matters?” Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows at Giles to signal him to continue. She knew she had more than wigged out when she had lost her powers, and Faith did not look to be coping any better. Faith hadn't said a single word to her or anyone else on the way back, and everything Buffy could think to say to start a conversation felt uncaringly trivial. All she knew was that Faith's glassy eyed look and statuesque demeanour were starting to scare her. She hated that Faith was going through it, and all she could think to do was to make sure it was sorted out as soon as possible.

“Yes, right.” Giles stood up, a book loosely held in his hand. “Well there's little of use in here,” he said, holding it up briefly before letting it fall back to the table. “What we do know is that the shards literally sap the energy from a person, usually until there's nothing left but an empty shell. It's unheard of, but it seems that it has taken away whatever it is – the essence, if you will – that gives Faith her abilities. It's lucky that she is a Slayer, a-and that the contact with the shard was limited, otherwise she likely wouldn't have survived at all.”

“OK, I get that,” Buffy said, really not wanting to hear about how things could be worse. “But how do we fix it?”

There was a telling pause before he responded, and he used the time to remove his glasses. “I'm afraid I really don't know.” His gaze flicked to Faith for a split second. Faith seemed more alert, looking like she was paying attention for the first time. “But I-I'm sure something will crop up,” he added cautiously.

The sound of brisk footsteps grabbed Buffy's attention, and she found Faith making a hasty exit from the library. “Faith, wait,” she called after her, but Faith was quickly away through the library doors.

Buffy rose from her seat as she gave Giles a pleading look. “Find something,” she said, and then she took off after Faith.

“Hey,” she said when she finally caught up to Faith, matching the girl's quick pace as they both headed down the pathway leading away from the school.

Faith didn't say anything, and Buffy zipped in front of her, blocking her route and forcing her to a sudden halt. Faith tried to move around her, but Buffy stepped to her side, again cutting her off. “Faith,” she said gently.

Faith looked away to the side, her hand moving up to stroke the back of her neck. She took a deep breath, the air escaping instantly as a laugh croaked from her throat, brittle and stunted.

“I know this is horrible,” Buffy said. “But you don't have to go through it alone.”

Faith looked back, her bottom lip continuing to tremble even after she sucked it in. She continued to avoid Buffy's gaze, instead focusing down on her held out palms. “This is all I've ever had,” she said, her strained voice difficult to make out even against the quiet surroundings. She squeezed both her hands shut before her eyebrows pinched together disapprovingly. “It's all I am.” Her voice cracked, the words coming out shrill and piercing, and Buffy winced in sympathy.

Faith continued to stare at her fists as if she was waiting for them to regain their strength. Buffy found herself reaching out to gently unclench each finger with her thumbs, and she could feel Faith's hands shaking ever so slightly. Faith didn't fight the action, her only movement coming from her teeth as they bit at her bottom lip, and Buffy took the girl's hands into her own.

“Faith, look at me.”

It took a moment, but when she finally looked up Buffy could see that Faith was trying desperately to hold herself together. The eyes that had been still and vacant only minutes ago in the library now jittered about restlessly, unable to stay in place long enough to meet Buffy's look with more than a passing glance. Buffy gave Faith's hands a gentle squeeze. “If anyone can figure this out, it's Giles,” she promised with all the belief she could muster.

“And if he can't?” Her eyes stilled, staring at Buffy. They begged and pleaded for a comforting response. For a glimmer of hope. For anything. Buffy wished that she could find the words Faith needed to hear, but she didn't have the answers. Unable to bare looking into the distraught eyes any longer, she pulled Faith close and wrapped her arms protectively around the other girl's body. Her hand slowly stroked the back of Faith's head, trying to soothe away the troubles. She felt Faith's shallow breaths against her neck, and each one made her feel more and more useless.

“It'll be OK,” she cooed into Faith's ear. “You'll see. It's all going to be OK.”

She felt Faith tense, and she quickly loosened her grip when the girl tried to pull away. “Faith, what is it?” she asked, worried that she'd overstepped her boundaries or said something to upset her. However she quickly realized she wasn't the focus of Faith's narrowed eyes, and she turned to see who or what was.

A large group approached them from the street, moving softly but swiftly through the shadows like a pack of wolves stalking their prey. Quentin Travers, acting as the alpha male, was placed centrally while three others in suits marched around him. The remaining four, two placed each side of the group of watchers, were dressed much more scruffily – and armed with an assortment of weapons.

Quentin spoke up in an all-business manner as he came to a stop across from them. “Faith Lehane. I believe you already know why we are here so I won't tire you with the formalities. Suffice it to say, you are going to have to come with us.”

Faith looked too tired, too broken, for any new signs of worry to make themselves known. Buffy gently pushed her arm to urge her back. Faith complied, though she didn't move far. Buffy took several steps toward Quentin, positioning herself in the line of sight between him and Faith. "Not now," she warned, her voice low as she spoke through clenched teeth.

“Ms Summers. I suggest you take your leave. This matter is between Faith and the council. It does not concern you.”

“Faith is with us now. She's back on board, OK? There's no need for any of this.”

A grim smile crossed his face. “I'm afraid it's not that simple. The council have been willing to overlook your questionable attitude on the account that you were still doing your job. Faith, however, has not been towing the line. Indeed she has crossed it entirely, and to that end she must return to England.”

Buffy slowly shook her head as she moved even closer. “No. You have exactly two options. The first option, you walk away right now and we can pretend this never happened. Or option two, you can leave here with my boot firmly placed up your British ass.”

He gave her a mocking smile. “Whilst it is true that we may not be much of a match for you, it would appear to me that Faith isn't feeling quite herself at the moment. I'm sure neither one of us wants to see her caught in the crossfire.”

She frowned briefly, wondering how he could have known that. It had to have been Wesley, she decided, for a lack of other options. “I could snap your neck before you took two steps,” she shot back, fire heating her voice. She moved farther forward until she was face to face with him.

He didn't back down, which only irked her further. “Quite. But you won't.” He nodded behind her, and she glanced around. Her worries increased tenfold at the sight before her. Two more of the council's thugs had Faith surrounded. One held a knife, but even more worryingly the other was brandishing a small firearm.

The larger of the two men waved his knife threateningly in front of Faith's face. The tip of the blade swayed back and forth, hovering dangerously close to her eye. Faith kicked out without warning, catching him straight between the legs. He dropped to his knees with a groan, his hands moving down far too late to protect himself. His knife fell from his grasp, clattering against the concrete and bouncing away. She spun to face the other man, but the butt of his gun struck her face before she could attack. The blow sent her down to her knees, and Buffy sprang to life. She dashed forward, but couldn't close the distance before the man levelled his gun at Faith's head, the barrel resting against the side of her scalp.

Buffy froze mid-step. Faith's eyes had darkened, looking more intense than scared. There wasn't a great deal of distance left between herself and Faith, and Buffy's first instinct was to try and knock the gun from the thug's hand before he could use it. She couldn't bring herself to do it though; not when the risk was Faith's life. Instead she could only stand there and watch helplessly as she tried desperately to think up a plan.

Her eyes pierced right through the man as she put the theory that looks could kill to the test. Had it been true, there would have been little more of him left than a smear on the concrete. “Take me,” she said suddenly, turning back to Quentin. “You're right, Faith doesn't even have her powers. She can't help you. I can do whatever you need.”

The condescending look on Quentin's face told her everything she needed to know before he had even uttered a word. “That's very considerate of you, but also entirely irrelevant. Faith is the active slayer. She will be of use to us, one way or the other.”

“Please, don't do this.” She didn't know if he actually had a heart to appeal to, but she was lacking other options and willing to try anything. She knew he wasn't just going to take Faith away; he was going to make everything worse. Every effort they'd both made – were both still making – would be for nothing. Even if they let her go later, it would be too late. Faith would be gone.

“I'm sorry. I'd rather it hadn't turned out this way.” The lack of emotion in his half-hearted apology showed that he was clearly unmoved by her plea.

Buffy balled her fists as he casually nodded to his thugs. It took every ounce of her restraint not to rush forward and knock the nonchalant look right from his face.

With Faith in tow, pulled along by her arm while the gun stayed pressed against her skull, the men circled around Buffy, keeping their distance as they passed. They joined the other members of the council and, following behind Quentin, they began to lead Faith away. Buffy could do nothing more than watch them go, and for the first time she noticed the line of cars parked alongside the school.

Faith looked back over her shoulder, catching Buffy's gaze before she was bundled into the back seat of one of the cars. No sooner had the door closed, Buffy was running at top speed as she headed back toward the school building.

She stormed into the library, the doors flying open as she barged through. She scanned the room until she found who she was looking for. With just as much pace she moved to her target, grabbing Wesley by the scruff of his collar and forcing him back against the nearest wall.

“Buffy!” Giles yelled in alarm as he jumped to his feet.

“Where would they take her?” Buffy shouted over him.

“W-where w-would who take--,” Wesley stammered, his eyes and mouth both hanging open.

“The council have Faith. Where would they take her?”

“I-I don't know.”

She pulled him forward and then drove him back into the wall. “Wrong answer.”

Wesley's brow furrowed, and he took a huge gulp of air. “They came by plane, b-but if they wanted to take Faith out of the country th-they'd likely have to go by sea.”

She glared at him, her racing pulse urging anger through her veins as she studied his face for signs of deceit. “You had better be right.” She let the threat hang in the air before shoving him back one final time and turning to Giles. She saw the expression on his face, his eyes almost as wide as Wesley's, but paid it no notice.

“I didn't know they were coming,” Wesley tried to explain.

Buffy ignored him. “Let's go,” she said to Giles as she briskly moved past him.

----------

“I think this is as close as we're going to get,” Giles said. The car slowed to a halt next to the traffic barrier that guarded the entrance to the docks.

“Right.” Wasting no time, Buffy shoved the car door open and climbed out.

“Now, Buffy, remember that these aren't demons you're fighting, they're people.“

“They're not people; they're vultures.” She slammed the door shut behind her and started heading toward the dock. Giles was quickly out the other side, his legs hurrying to keep up.

“Buffy, I think perhaps you need to calm down. I know you're--”

“No, Giles, you have no idea.” She stopped and turned on him, unleashing the anger that had continued to build up on their way there. “The council think they can just play with other people's lives and get away with it. Well we're not your puppets, or your weapons. We're not here to live and die at your beckon call. So I will do whatever I have to do, and if you have a problem with that then I strongly suggest you wait in the car.”

Her eyes dared him to challenge her. When he didn't respond, she started walking, leaving him stood behind. Even when we called out her name she didn't slow; worry and anger drove her onward. Nothing was going to get in her way. She hadn't fully considered how far she was willing to go, but she knew she wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

Carefully but quickly, Buffy made her way toward the docks, staying in cover where she could and darting forward when there was none to be found. She had some idea of where she was heading; it hadn't been all that long since her last visit. Circumstances had been different then, but the similarities weren't lost on her.

She slowed to a walk after laying her eyes on the coast, and she slowly edged herself along the side of a large shipping container before peering around the corner. Quentin stood talking with the other watchers while three of their cronies patrolled the surrounding area. Behind them on the pier, two others were bringing down the ramp from a small ship. Faith stood by the edge of the water, guarded by the final one as she waited to to be taken on board.

The odds weren't in her favour, but Buffy knew she needed to strike fast if she was going to get to Faith in time. She pressed herself flat against the container and closed her eyes, listening intently as she waited for one of the guards to wander too close. Then she pounced, flinging herself around the corner. The element of surprise left him unable to react, and she knocked the knife from his hand before his eyes could register her presence. He threw a wild punch out toward her, and she caught his fist in her grip, twisting his arm around until he yelped before sweeping his legs out from under him. She brought the back of her foot down hard into his exposed stomach, and he shrunk into a foetal position, his hands wrapping defensively around his body.

Her entrance had caught the attention of the others, and she turned just as the next guard reached her. He thrust his knife at her face, but she easily dodged the attack, twisting to her side before bringing her knee up to knock it from his hand. She grabbed him by his jacket and threw him around, and he left the ground as he flew into the side of the shipping container. Bouncing off with a loud, metallic thud, he landed back on his feet only to stagger straight into her perfectly timed roundhouse kick. Her boot connected with his face, and he instantly dropped to the floor with a muted groan.

A crossbow bolt shot harmlessly past her side, embedding itself in the container. The man who had fired it was desperately tried to reload the weapon with his shaking hands. He managed to get the bolt in place just as she reached him, but he couldn't find the time to use it again before her elbow connected with his head. She stomped against the back of his knee, and he dropped down as his legs buckled. She pried the crossbow from his hand and swiped it across the side of his face to send him the rest of the way down.

She turned toward the group of watchers who were now without protection. The three she didn't know had already backed off, cowering some way behind Quentin.

“That's quite far enough,” Quentin said as Buffy faced off with him. She raised the loaded crossbow. “While your determination could be seen as admirable, it appears that once again you have reached an impasse.” He didn't so much as blink, his voice remaining calm even as the bow levelled toward his head.

Buffy knew exactly what he was getting it. Faith's guard was stood behind her, his hand coming around under her chin and his fingers pressing around her neck, forcing her head up. He held the gun in his free hand and aimed it in Buffy's direction as he mimicked cocking it before his arm returned to his side, a feral sneer on his face all the while.

“If you hurt her then what do you think I'm going to do to you?” Buffy asked Quentin.

“Are you willing to sacrifice her life to take mine?” Buffy watched him silently, fully aware that he already knew the answer. She could feel the rampant thudding of her heart. She took a deep breath before exhaling slowly as she tried to steady both her nerves and her arm. “No? I didn't think so. Then we have nothing more--”

In one quick motion her arm rotated around and her finger pressed against the crossbow trigger. The bolt was released from the weapon, and it flew through the air with an uncaring venom. The bolt skewered through skin, muscle and bone without discrimination before coming to a rest as the steel tip popped out the inside of the elbow of Faith's captor, covering the side of Faith's clothes with spatters of blood. An ear splitting scream left the man's throat, and the gun dropped from his hand, bouncing harmlessly off the floor and into the water.

Faith finished the job, thrusting her head back into his chin and sending him careening over the edge of the pier, his uninjured arm flailing wildly as he went. She watched him hit the water as her hand moved up to rub at the back of her head.

Buffy turned back to Quentin to find his smug look lost and his narrowed eyes displaying caution for the first time. A menacing smile slowly spread across her face. “Hold on,” he said as he took a timid step back. “You don't want to do anything rash here.”

Buffy took a single, slow, predatory step toward him, and it was enough to trigger him to turn and flee. She hesitated for just a beat before letting the empty crossbow fall to the ground as she bounded forward. With his back turned he had left himself exposed, and from behind she wrapped her arm tight around his throat to put a quick halt to his retreat.

Groggy men were making their way back to their feet around them, and Buffy spotted that the two men she'd seen dealing with the ramp had reappeared with weapons. She turned toward them, dragging Quentin's body around in the process. The two men raised their crossbows toward her, but Quentin was both broader and taller than her, and she knew he provided enough cover to keep her out of their firing line.

“Drop your weapons or I drop him,” she called out.

“She's bluffing,” Quentin countered. “Escort Fai--”

Buffy pressed tighter around Quentin's throat, and she could feel his carotid artery pulse against the inside of her arm. She spoke slowly, making him wait for air. “You are one word away from finding out just how far I am willing to go to protect my friends.”

She gave him time to consider her words before she eased up her grip. He breathed heavily as he tried to make up for lost air.

“Last chance,” she warned, and she pressed her arm back against his throat just enough to emphasise her point.

“Lay down your weapons,” Quentin managed, his voice unsteady.

At first the only movement came in the form of anxious looks being traded back and forth, but as soon as one made a move the others quickly followed suit, and one by one they discarded their weapons.

“Now get inside the boat,” Buffy commanded loudly. Quentin didn't have to repeat the order. Every one of them, watchers included, backed their way up the ramp, all the while keeping their eyes fixed on her. As they did so she pressed forward, pushing her prisoner along in front.

By the time she'd arrived at Faith's side there was nobody else left. It was just her, Faith and Quentin. Buffy shoved him forward hard, and he stumbled before falling on to his hands and knees. He stayed down for a moment before gingerly pushing himself back to his feet. He bent over to dust his trousers with his hands before he turned back to face them. He shot a quick look over to Faith before focusing on Buffy. “You've made a terrible mistake today.” His usual, unconcerned tone had been replaced by a hoarse growl. “You have gone too far this time, and trust me, this is far from over. I'll have her head before we--”

Buffy's hand shot out without warning. Her fingers and thumb clutched around his throat, and she squeezed until his words became nothing more than a stream of indecipherable rasps. Using both hands he tried unsuccessfully to peel her fingers from his neck, becoming more and more desperate when her hold remained firm. He raked feverishly at the back of her hand, and she squeezed tighter in response, digging her nails deep into his skin.

She dragged him down by his neck, forcing him onto his knees. His eyes looked up, locking on hers, and that's when she saw it. Not just the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes, but the thing that lay behind them. His assured composure had been stripped away, and she could see the fear and desperation that had taken up its place.

“B.” She heard Faith's voice, just as she felt the prickling across the skin of her arms, and just as she felt the warm blood that trickled its way underneath her fingernails. The sensations were all there, tapping away against her consciousness, but none of them could fully push their way through her haze.

“Buffy.” Faith's voice was louder, filled with more urgency. Buffy felt the hand rest over the top of her outstretched arm, and the fingers as they curled softly around it. She looked down, staring at the hand for a moment before looking over to Faith, frowning at the look of concern she found. Faith's unreadable eyes remained on her while the hand gently pushed down, and Buffy loosened her grip on Quentin's neck, letting her arm be eased down to her side.

Quentin bent forward, the flats of his hands landing on the ground as he propped himself up. He coughed and spluttered uncontrollably, trying to gasp in air at every opportunity. His head dipped farther as he gagged deeply. He continued to alternate between rough coughs and wheezy breaths while the collection of tiny, red rivers slunk their way down under his shirt.

Buffy's adrenaline began to seep away as she stared down at him, and as it went it was replaced by a light-headedness that blurred the edges of her vision. Her stomach clenched painfully, and the doughnut she'd eaten as a makeshift dinner barely stayed down. She felt the urge to turn around and run, and only the need to know that the council wouldn't try again kept her in place.

She waited until Quentin had his breathing back under control before squatting to level her face with his. “I've faced things a hell of a lot scarier than you'll ever be,” she said in a low, menacing voice. “If you send anyone – if you do anything – to try and get to Faith, then I swear: there won't be a place on this planet that you can hide where I won't find you. So why don't you get on your little boat and get the hell out of our town before I change my mind.”

His entire face had turned a harsh red, and his nose wrinkled sneers of disdain. His arms visibly shook as they pushed his body up. She rose with him, forcing herself to stay locked onto his damp, bloodshot eyes. Without another word he turned away and began making his way up the ramp toward the boat, and not once did he stop to look back.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, slowly running her hand up through her hair as she let it back out. “Are you OK?” she asked as she turned to Faith, her eyes zoning in on the bruise the girl had received back at the school. Up close she could see the full extent of the damage. It was a sore looking deep purple, and the blow had been enough to tear through the skin, leaving a small web of dried blood on the surface.

Faith nodded. “You?”

Buffy nodded back and forced a thin smile to her face.

“That hurt like a bitch though,” Faith half-heartedly complained. She moved her hand to the back of her head again, seemingly more concerned with the pain there than her bruise. She looked down into the water, and Buffy followed her gaze. Together they watched the forgotten council lackey, bloody face and all, splash around with one arm as he tried to make his way back to shore. “But hey, at least I'm not the one with the broken nose.”

Buffy continued to stare at the man, though her thoughts were not reserved for his nose. She could hear his shrill scream ring out in her mind, and she knew he'd be lucky if he could ever use his arm again. He had already hurt Faith once though, and she knew he could have done much worse if she hadn't have acted. Quentin though-

She was pulled back from her thoughts by the arm that draped around her shoulder. “Come on, let's get out of here,” Faith said.

Buffy was more than happy to get away from the scene, and she let Faith turn her around and begin to guide them away from the pier.

----------

The drive back seemed to take forever. Buffy couldn't decide if it had felt longer or shorter than on the way there, but she was adamant that there must have been a quicker route somewhere.

She was sat in the back next to Faith, leaving Giles alone in the front. The atmosphere was icy at best, and yet the air still managed to stay uncomfortably warm. None of them had uttered a single sound since getting in the car, and the steady, low hum of the motor was starting to make Buffy feel claustrophobic. Giles' eyes had remained fixed straight ahead at all times, and she suspected they'd die in a crash before he risked catching her eye in the rear view mirror. Faith seemed too uncomfortable to even move, likely able to feel the tension that filled out the small space. Her eyes occasionally glanced toward Buffy, but for the most part they switched between staring at the car floor and looking out the window at the passing buildings.

The side of Faith's jacket was dotted with dried blood, and Giles' eyes had widened when they first set upon it. He hadn't asked whose blood it was, or how it had gotten there. Buffy suspected he was too afraid to, and for that she was glad.

She could barely contain a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the approaching school building.

----------

Faith stopped at the bathroom to clean herself up, and Buffy and Giles continued alone to the library with the former purposefully lagging behind. Once they entered, Giles made a bee line straight for his office, and Buffy was left in the main area with the rest of the group.

Willow's eyes trailed from Buffy over to the entrance and back. “What happened?” she asked.

“They're gone.” Buffy said, and Willow's eyes widened. “Not with Faith,” she clarified.

“Well Wesley took off straight after you did,” Xander said. “Probably no surprise there though. I think it's safe to say you put the fear of Buffy into him.”

“Good. And if he knows what's good for him he'll stay gone.”

“Buff, he was with us the whole time. He couldn't have told the council about Faith.”

“Why are you defending him?” she shot at him.

“Whoa there, down girl,” he said, holding his hands up. “I'm not defending anyone.”

“Fine. Then let's just drop it.”

Xander shared a look with Willow before looking back to her. “Don't you think you're acting a little bit –” Buffy raised an eyebrow, and he stopped mid-sentence to let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you're scaring Willow,” he finished, patting his hand on Willow's shoulder.

“What?” Willow said, her voice pitching high. Her worried face glanced first at Xander and then at Buffy. “No you're not. U-unless you want me to be.” She paused as her brow furrowed. “Do you?”

Buffy looked between the two of them, and she realized she was still a bit highly strung. “I'm sorry. It's been a long day, and maybe Cordy was right.” She thought about that for a moment. “I can't believe I just said yet,” she added in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“You and me both,” Xander said, and Willow offered her a glum smile.

Buffy's eyes wandered over to Giles' office where they remained for a few moments. “I'll be back in a minute,” she said to no one in particular.

She slowly made her way over to the small room, and she knocked quietly on the wall by the open doorway before taking a step inside. “Hey,” she said lamely.

Sat at his desk, Giles' eyes stayed glued to the pages of the book in front of him. “No news yet I'm afraid.”

“Oh.” She stood in the entrance to the room, hovering nervously for a few moments before stepping fully inside. “Listen, about what I said back there.”

Giles removed his glasses and placed them down on the desk as he continued to stare down at the book.

“I didn't mean you,” she continued, shifting her focus to the glasses as she spoke. “I just – there wasn't enough time to go into it, and...” She wasn't sure what to say. She had been running purely on emotion – anger, worry, fear. She had known that she needed that fuel to do what had to be done, and she couldn't let him take it away from her. “I'm sorry.”

Giles stood up and turned to face her. “My concern was for you and not the council. You've seen first hand what taking a life can do to somebody, and that's not something I'd wish on anyone. You must know, Buffy, that whether it's the council or anyone else, you will always come first.”

“I know,” she said softly. “It's just Faith is trying to make things right, and they weren't going to give her a chance. They would have killed her Giles.”

“Perhaps.” His solemn look suggested he agreed to some degree. “But at least it's over now. And can I assume that you didn't hurt them?”

His voice didn't portray any obvious worry, but the same couldn't be said for his overly guarded look . “I wouldn't exactly say that, but yes, they'll live.”

A small smile flitted briefly on his face.

With Faith away, Buffy needed to know one more thing. “Be straight with me, Giles. Can we get Faith's powers back?”

“I honestly can't say for sure, but it's not a hopeless cause by any means. Magic can be reversed; spells can be broken. We've seen it happen countless times before. However it's late, and I think we can all agree that tensions are starting to run a little high. I would suggest the best course of action for now is to go home and get some rest, and we can reconvene first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, OK, you're probably right,” she admitted. They stood in silence for a few moments. “Good night.”

“Good night, Buffy.”

She returned to the main area. The others were still present, but there was still no Faith. “Let's call it a night, guys.”

That was all the persuasion it took, and after their tired sounds of agreement Buffy made her way out of the library. No sooner had she passed through the doors, Faith rounded the corner. “There you are,” Buffy said brightly.

“What's up?” Faith asked. She was down to her top and jeans, her blood-stained leather jacket nowhere in sight.

“We were all just about to head home. It's getting pretty late. You know, at least for those of us who don't spend all hours of the night in cemeteries.”

“Oh,” Faith mumbled before she perked up. “I mean yeah, sure. Makes sense.”

“We're not giving up,” Buffy assured her. “We'll carry on tomorrow. And the day after that. As long as it takes, I promise.”

Faith nodded. “Guess I'll see you tomorrow then.”

She started to turn, but Buffy quickly took hold of her wrist. “Wait. Why don't you come back to mine?”

Faith pulled her arm free, and it joined with her other one as they crossed in front of her body. “Great. You gonna babysit me 24-7 now, is that it?”

“I'm not trying to babysit you. I just don't want you to be alone.” Faith watched her cautiously, and Buffy carried on before she could start arguing. “I guess I don't really want to be alone right now either.”

Faith's arms dropped back to her sides, but she remained silent.

“I have lasagne,” Buffy added, trying to sweeten the pot, and she smiled encouragingly. She had a feeling that Faith would still have her appetite, especially considering neither of them had eaten a proper dinner.

Faith raised an eyebrow. “You can make lasagne?” she asked, clearly not convinced.

“And why is that such a surprise?”

“No offence, B, but you're a bit of a clutz.”

“Am not,” Buffy defended. She pouted her lips, but it didn't get her the retraction she was looking for. “OK, so technically this will be more of a reheating role. But that's almost as impressive, right?” Faith looked like she was trying to fight it, her eyes shifting down to the side, but her cautious guard gave way as the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “So are you in?”

“Just so we're straight: I'm not braiding your hair.”

“Deal. No hair braiding.” She paused before giving Faith an over the top look of excitement. “Ooh, but maybe we could paint each other's nails?”

Buffy grinned at the look of despair on Faith's face, and she promptly received a poke in her side for her teasing.

“Hey!” she complained, taking an instinctive step back as her hand moved up to protect her side. “Ticklish, OK. Not fair.” She smiled at Faith as she backed open the library doors. “Just wait here while I grab my stuff.”

“So, Lehane, huh?”

The two girls stood in Buffy's kitchen as they watched the oven, waiting for its beep to signal the arrival of the hot, Italian food.

“Don't even start,” Faith said after taking one look at Buffy.

“What?” Buffy asked innocently, the coy smile forming on her face more a result of Faith's reaction than the name itself. “I like it.”

“Yeah, right. It's lame.”

“Oh please. Like Buffy is so much better.”

Faith smirked. “When did I say that?”

“Ouch,” Buffy said, feigning a hurt expression. She pushed the oven timer to reveal there were only a few minutes remaining before turning her attention back to Faith. “I've gotta say though, you were working the whole first-name-only thing pretty well there. Very mysterious.”

“Well now you know, I guess it's lucky I've still got all my wily charms to fall back on.”

“Wily charms you say? You really are good at keeping secrets.” That was enough to earn her a soft elbow in her ribs.

Faith began to pace as she looked about the room, though it didn't take long before she found something of interest. “What happened to your wall?” she asked. “Staking vamps not doing it for you anymore?”

Buffy watched as Faith poked at the edge of the depressingly obvious hole. “Oh,” she said, only then remembering she'd meant to find something to cover up the damage. “There was a small accident?” Buffy saw the grin that was forming on Faith's face, and she remembered the earlier accusation. “And if you want to eat, you'll choose your next words very carefully.”

“Wasn't going to say a thing.“

“Yeah, I bet.”

“But now that you mention it, we're not gonna be eating plasterboard are we?”

Buffy grabbed the tea towel hung by the oven and flung it at Faith. “You're lucky I'm such a gracious host, or I'd stick you with the washing up.”

The food was ready shortly later, and the two of them quietened as they sat down to eat. It didn't take long before Buffy's mind found its way back to the docks. She realized that for all the demons she'd killed she couldn't picture the eyes of a single one of them when they had died. Quentin was different though. His desperate look came to her easily, and the thought of what she could have done – had almost done – made her feel queasy. There was a certain amount of anger that came with the job – sometimes the fire was necessary to keep going – but she didn't know she was capable of such rage, and if she was honest, it scared her.

“I don't think it's gonna fight back now, B.”

Buffy looked at Faith questioningly, the words making little sense in her head. Faith nodded down, and Buffy looked at the lasagne on her plate. The bulk of it was still there, only now it was ridden with trios of small holes. Though more aware of what she was doing, she still brought her fork down through the top layer of cheese one more time before letting the utensil fall to rest on the plate. “I guess I'm not that hungry,” she said absently. “Want some more?”

Faith shook her head even though she was well on the way to devouring all of her food. “It's really good though. Your mom's like Barbara Lynch, only I can actually afford to eat here.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed half-heartedly. She had no idea who that was.

“Heated to perfection as well,” Faith added, and even though the sentiment was ridiculous, it still brought a small smile to Buffy's face. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Just stuff.” Stuff she was in no particular hurry to discuss. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

----------

“Oh come on, why would you even do that?” Buffy asked. “You're blatantly going to die if you go in there.”

Her and Faith sat in the dimly lit living room watching the start of some cable horror film they'd agreed upon. Or at least Faith had agreed upon and Buffy had merely relented to. However she'd take any distraction she could get over the worries of real life, and after initially forcing herself to pay attention she found herself getting into it. She was perched at the edge of the sofa as a severely under-clothed teenage girl let herself into a creepy looking house in the middle of the woods.

She looked over to the armchair when she didn't get a response. Faith was sunk down into the back of the seat as she stared at the TV. Or more accurately, as she stared through it, her glazed over eyes not reacting to the movements on the screen.

“Earth to Faith.” Faith looked over, confusion showing on her face. “You still with me over there?”

“I'm watching.” She looked back at the TV.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buffy asked after a few moments.

“Nothing's really happened yet. Looks like this chick is about to get it though.”

“You know that's not what I meant,” Buffy said softly as she watched for a reaction. There was none to be seen; Faith's fascination with the film seemed to have increased exponentially. “Faith. I get what you're going through because I've been there too.”

That was enough to get Faith's full attention. "What?" She shuffled about in the chair until she was sat facing Buffy. "How?"

Buffy paused for a moment as she deliberated whether it was really a story she wanted to share. It was something she'd sooner purge from her mind than think about, but it was also hard to overlook it given Faith's current predicament. Faith had also perked up from her near comatose state and was now watching her intently. Hoping that it might help Faith, Buffy decided to carry on. “The council. On my 18th birthday they – well, long story short, it turns out there's a test for any lucky Slayer who makes it that far. You have to fight a vampire one on one, the catch being you don't get to use your powers.” She let out a short, humourless laugh as the detailed memories came flooding back. “And so they just took them away.“

Just thinking about it stirred up anger in the pit of her stomach, She'd nearly killed Quentin earlier that night, but he'd nearly done the same to her. Not to mention her mother. She knew an eye for an eye may not have made it right, and that the Cruciamentum hadn't even crossed her mind at the docks, but it still helped her to feel a little less ill.

Faith looked at her with a wide-eyed disbelief. “And you agreed to that?”

“I didn't exactly have a whole lot of say in the matter.”

“Then how? Magic?” Faith didn't wait for a response. “Those slimy, little bastards. Think they can do whatever the hell they want.” Buffy looked back at the TV, regaining her interest in the blonde girl who slowly made her way through a corridor in the poorly lit house. “What?”

Buffy licked her lips, trying to moisten them, and she suddenly wished she had a glass of water in reach. “Giles,” she said finally. She kept her gaze locked on the screen, but she could feel Faith's eyes on her. “He – he injected me with a drug. Some sort of muscle relaxant. The effects were only temporary, but I didn't know it at the time. It felt like...” Like a part of her had been cruelly torn from her body, thrust aside to leave nothing more than a scared, broken shell. She didn't have to say the words; she had no doubt that Faith was feeling the same way right then.

Faith's sudden movement drew her attention, and she looked over to find the girl sat up straight, her enraged eyes narrowed. “That son of a bitch.”

“No, Faith. It's not like that.”

There was a pause as Faith's brow furrowed. “God, don't tell me you're OK with it?”

“Of course not.”

“Really? Because last I saw him, he still looked in pretty good shape.”

“He made a mistake.” Faith's sudden outburst of anger had taken Buffy by surprise, and she wasn't sure how she'd ended up on the defensive.

Faith's laugh was an incredulous one, and chilling enough to make Buffy involuntarily tense up. “No, a mistake is sending you out after some demon with the wrong slay pack. What he did was betray you, and who's to say he won't try it again next time he needs his kicks?”

“He won't. I trust him.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Faith scoffed. Her arms had already become more and more animated as the conversation had progressed, and now she was up on her feet. “How can you trust someone who poisoned you?”

“It's not that simple,” Buffy managed, not knowing what else to say. Feeling intimidated from being down under Faith's accusatory gaze, she also rose to her feet. She was in far from the right frame of mind to handle the oncoming anger, and she could feel the tears beginning to form. She quickly ran her hand across her eyes, trying to mask the motion by following on to push her hair back from her face.

There were a few moments of silence as Faith watched her, and Buffy appreciated the respite, using it to try and wrestle her emotions back under control.

“It's exactly that simple. Either you can trust someone or you can't, B. There ain't no middle ground.” Faith's voice had softened, and that helped Buffy to relax a little. “If she'd have tried something like that on me, I swear...”

Initially caught in confusion, Buffy played the conversation back in her head until the the pieces fell into place. “Your watcher?” she said, more in confirmation to herself than as a question to Faith. “You've never talked about her.”

“What's to talk about? She's gone. Nothing's gonna change that now.”

Buffy regarded her softly. “That doesn't mean you don't miss her.”

“If she was going to pull that shit then I'm glad she's dead.”

“Faith!” Buffy couldn't keep the shock from raising her voice. “I know you don't mean that.”

Buffy heard the loud scream from the TV, but it wasn't enough to shift her attention. The steam had left Faith's sails with her last outburst, returning her to a more passive state. When it became obvious that no reply was forthcoming, Buffy risked pressing further. “There's no shame in missing someone. She was an important part of your life.” It was only a guess, but Buffy remembered how distressed Faith had been when Kakistos showed up, and it didn't seem like a stretch to assume her and her watcher were close. “And maybe she would have done the same thing to you, but you don't know, maybe she wouldn't.”

“Don't you get it? People are all the same. When it comes down to them or you, they'll turn on you in an instant.” There wasn't any obvious anger, the words spoken as if simply fact.

“Sometimes, maybe,” Buffy agreed. “But I've found that sometimes people can surprise you, if you give them the chance.”

“The Scoobies? Always got your back, right? Must be nice.”

“That's not who I meant.”

Faith shrugged. “Who then?”

“You could have taken the easy way out tonight. You could have sided with the mayor, and who knows, maybe right now you'd be living it up in a fancy apartment without a care in the world.” Buffy slowly shook her head. “But you didn't. You put yourself on the line. You took a chance on me, and I won't ever forget that.”

There was a slim smile on Faith’s face as she tilted her head down. “Careful. I'm sure there's an amnesia demon out there just dying to prove you wrong,” she joked.

“I'm serious, Faith. You've shown me that I can trust you, and that means a lot to me.”

It took a moment before Faith's gaze flicked back to her. “Well you made it an easy choice.”

Buffy didn't believe that it had been all that easy, but as far as she was concerned that made the decision all the more meaningful. "Come on," she said, smiling as she sat back down and patted the free space next to her. "I'm sure there'll be a bus chock full of teens showing up to be slaughtered any minute now." Faith obliged, slouching down beside her. "Ooh," Buffy said excitedly as she glanced over to the TV, "in fact here they are now."

“You're kinda scary, B,” Faith said, her single raised eyebrow questioning Buffy's sanity. “Guess I'm lucky you're on my side.”

----------

Buffy ruffled around in her drawers to find spare towels and pyjamas, and she dropped the bundle of materials into Faith's arms along with a spare toothbrush. Faith took one look before wrinkling her nose. “They're pink.”

“So?”

“So don't you have anything a little less Princess Peach?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “There's nobody here to see you, so it'll be tough, but I think you might just make it through the night alive.”

“Fine,” Faith grumbled. “But if you tell anyone...”

"Your secret's safe with me," Buffy assured her, trying her best to keep a grin from her face. She knew full well that she had more neutral pyjamas somewhere, but she couldn't resist getting Faith back for the earlier jibes. "I'll be back up in a bit. I just need to sort something out." Faith nodded, and Buffy headed toward the hallway.

"Hey, Buffy."

The words stopped her before she'd made it out, and she turned, lingering in the doorway. "Yeah?"

“Thanks.”

“Just remember, they're strictly loan only. Don't get any ideas about taking off with them.”

“No. I mean...” A flicker of emotion flashed across her face, barely giving Buffy enough time to even register it before it was gone. “For not giving up on me.”

Buffy smiled at the other girl. “Good night, Faith.”

Despite what she had told Faith, Buffy had no intention of going to bed any time soon, and instead she headed to the dining room. There she grabbed her bag from the floor, unzipped it, and shook the contents out on to the dining table. After spreading the stack of books she'd taken from the library out across the surface, she sighed as she took in just how much reading material there was.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,” she said out loud, settling on a dark grey book with an etching of a tri-horned demon on the slightly beaten-up front cover. She took a seat and then flipped the book open straight to the back few pages, frowning in disapproval when she didn't find what she was looking for. “Right,” she complained, “because who'd want an index when reading the whole thing could be such a barrel of laughs.”

Going back to the beginning, she set to work though, skimming each page as she looked for a reference to the Shards of Ursula or something else that might help Faith. She figured a front to back scan probably wasn't the quickest way to find what she was looking for, but she wasn't exactly sure what else to do. She seldom joined in on the group research sessions, and the beginning seemed as good a place to start as any.

Two hours had passed before she'd come to the end of the book, and all Buffy had gleamed was that she never wanted to come face to face with a Shnerdll demon – not that she'd really call that thing it had a face. Her eyes were reaching the stage that followed shortly after tired, and it was starting to become difficult to keep her more frequently fluttering lids from closing completely, but she shoved the book away in disappointment and pulled another one in to take its place. “Morek's Codex of Mysticism and the Arcane. God, Giles, don't you ever just shop at Walmart?”

----------

“Mom?” Buffy asked through bleary eyes, trying to blink herself awake. “What are you doing here?”

“Very funny, dear. I know I've been gone for a few days, but this is still my house.” Joyce bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

Buffy looked around, taking in her surroundings. She quickly realized she wasn't at the school library. “Oh, right. Sorry. Still in the not-quite-there-yet phase of the waking up.”

“Are you feeling OK?” The palm of her mom's hand rested on her forehead for a few seconds. “Well you don't have a temperature. What are you doing sleeping at the table?” Joyce closed the book Buffy had used as a makeshift pillow. “The Memoirs of Litvus?”

Buffy firmly pulled the book away from her mom and bundled it into a pile with the others before leaning her elbows on them. “Psychology books. For college. You can never be too keen, right?” She smiled enthusiastically.

“I guess not.”

“So how was your trip?” Buffy asked, eager to change the subject.

“Oh, the usual. There was art.” Joyce started sifting through the pile of mail that had amassed over the past few days. “Actually, there was this one really nice painting. 19th century. Pre-Raphaelite. I almost bought it myself, but the asking price was ridiculous.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Buffy said, getting a sideways look but no reply from her mother. She ran her hands over her face, and then up to push the dangling hair back, before letting out a tired groan. “I think it's time for bed.”

“It's nine in the morning, Buffy. How about some pancakes though? I bet they'll wake you right up.”

Buffy grumbled her disapproval. She wasn't sure what time she'd finally lost consciousness, but she knew she'd made her way on to book three before she'd found something that looked relevant. By that time she didn't have the energy to make her way upstairs – or even to the sofa. She couldn't deny that pancakes sounded like they had potential though.

“Well isn't that sweet,” Joyce said. Buffy looked over to find her mother's eyes on an unfolded A4 letter.

“Isn't what sweet?”

“The mayor. He's throwing a party to celebrate the towns anniversary, and we're both invited.”

“What?” Buffy practically shouted, shooting to her feet, the remnants of her drowsiness quickly cast aside. She grabbed the letter straight out of her mom's hand.

“Buffy!”

She quickly scanned over the words, an uneasy feeling rising up from her stomach. It was scheduled for the following night and personally addressed the Summers' household. “No. Mom, you cannot go to this.” She shook her head emphatically.

Joyce gave her a questioning look. “Why ever not?”

“It'll be boring, for one thing. All those politicians talking about... politiciany things. And - and hedge fund workers. Nobody likes those.”

“Don't be silly. I'm sure it'll be good fun. Besides, I never get out of the house for anything other than work.”

“Mom, please,” Buffy begged.

Joyce watched her carefully for a moment. “Buffy, what's going on?” Buffy didn't respond, only continuing to stare, and Joyce let out a sigh. “This is a vampire thing, isn't it?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh Buffy.”

Buffy had heard her mother use the same tone before. Whenever slaying came up in their conversations it was bound to surface soon after. She always wondered if it was disappointment, and that hurt more than she was ever willing to let on. “Just promise me you'll stay at home.”

Joyce stared at her for a moment before letting out another sigh. “OK, OK,” she reluctantly agreed. “But what's going to happen to everyone else who gets invited?”

Buffy swallowed hard. She knew exactly what would happen to them. “I don't know,” she lied, her voice a low whisper.

“Maybe I should warn people,” Joyce declared, turning and heading for the hallway.

“What?” Buffy said, quickly following her mother out. “No. You can't. What would you even say to them?”

“I'll just tell them it could be dangerous and – and that they should stay away.”

“Oh sure, because that won't raise any questions. Hey, why don't you tell them to check the yard for vampires as well?”

“There's no need for that attitude, young lady.” Joyce picked up the phone, but Buffy grabbed it from her hand before she could dial a single number. “Buffy--”

“I'll handle this, OK?” Her mother looked like she was ready to argue further, “I promise, I won't let anyone get hurt, but you have to let me take care of it.”

Eventually a short nod signalled her mom's resigned acceptance, and Buffy returned the phone to its stand. “Thank you.”

“Faith.” There was a hint of surprise in her mom's voice.

“Faith?” Buffy repeated before turning to find the girl in question stood halfway down the stairs, dressed in her clothes from the previous day. “Oh. Faith. Err, she slept over. Is that OK?”

“Of course, honey.” She looked over to Faith. “You're welcome here any time.”

“Thanks, Mrs Summers,” Faith said.

“I was just about to whip up some pancakes. Would you like some?”

“Sure thing.”

Buffy waited until Joyce moved through into the kitchen before she made her way to the dining room with Faith in tow. “I see you survived then,” Buffy said wryly.

“Yeah,” Faith replied, echoing her matter of fact manner. “In the end I just slept naked.”

“You did what?” Buffy said, turning to face the girl as her eyebrows shot up. “In my bed?”

“Relax. I'm just teasing.”

Buffy shook her head at Faith's Cheshire grin. “You are so not house trained.”

Faith shrugged. “Like you've never done the same.”

“First of all, we're not talking about this. But if we were, I'd tell you that me naked in my bed and you naked in my bed are two completely different things.” She felt her face start to redden and rushed onward. “I mean not that I have, or that I would, a-and didn't I just tell you we weren't talking about this?”

Faith laughed as she moved over to the dining table. She opened the book on top of the stack and flipped backward through the pages, much too fast to pay particular attention to any of them. “I thought your mom wasn't back until tonight?”

“So did I,” Buffy replied, relieved that the conversation had moved on.

“Well what'd she have to say about your interior destruction? She seemed cheerful enough then.”

A knowing frown materialised on Buffy's face, and she tentatively looked around toward the direction of the kitchen.

“What in the world,” came her mother's shocked voice.

“Uh-oh.” Buffy's eyes widened in fear. She shoved the stack of books from the table into her bag and then grabbed Faith's arm. “Time to go.”

“Buffy!” her mother shouted, sounding none too impressed.

“Gotta go, mom. Bye,” she called back as she dragged Faith through the hallway and out of the house.

“But pancakes, B,” Faith protested, looking back over her shoulder toward the front door.

“I'll buy you some on the way,” Buffy said as she hurried them both down the driveway and away to temporary safety.

The duo arrived at The Crestmont – home of Faith's recently acquired apartment – with Buffy looking around anxiously as they made their way up to room 118. She didn't like the idea of being anywhere the mayor could have eyes on, but Faith had insisted on the detour so she could grab some of her stuff and get changed. When Buffy had tried to deter her, Faith had pointed out that, even though her discarded jacket had taken the bulk of the blood ejected from the council lackey, her remaining clothes weren't exactly ranking high in the hygiene department.

Faith seemed wholly unconcerned with the potential danger and was instead busy munching her way through the takeaway stack of pancakes Buffy had bought her at a café a few blocks back. There had been eight in total, though Buffy had already accepted and eaten one herself, and Faith was eagerly making her way through her fourth. Apparently Faith's appetite wasn't strictly linked to her slaying, Buffy thought to herself as she watched in wonder while Faith quickly polished off another one.

Entering the apartment first, Buffy quickly scanned over the room for any signs of danger, but short of tripping over one of the piles of junk that littered the messy floor there were none to be found. “OK, let's make this quick. It may be daytime, but we don't know if the mayor has anyone else watching this place.”

“You got it,” Faith said as she made her way past Buffy into the middle of the room, placing the remaining pancakes down on the bedside table.

Buffy raised an eyebrow when Faith pulled her top off in one quick motion and flung it to the floor, then she quickly turned her back when the girl's hands started to fiddle with the button on her jeans. “Yowsers,” she said quietly to herself. “Well someone's certainly not shy.”

“What was that?” Faith asked.

“Nothing,” Buffy replied, making sure she kept her eyes firmly placed on the bare wall. She could hear Faith moving about behind her, but she didn't dare look back in case her state of undress had become even more un than dress.

“Just admiring the brickwork?” Faith asked a few moments later, appearing by Buffy's side. Buffy risked a look around and was relieved to see that Faith was once again fully clothed. “Gotta say, I prefer the look of the sound system myself.” Faith nodded toward where the bulky, expensive looking device sat in the small alcove. “Speaking of, wanna help me carry it?”

“I think we should probably just stick to the essentials,” Buffy said, her disbelief triggering an amused smile. While it may have been the mayor who ended up having to pay for the damages, she had no desire to get caught stealing from the hotel, and sneaking out something that large could not be filed under inconspicuous.

“Killjoy,” Faith muttered, grinning at Buffy before her eyes roamed over the room. They landed on a black carry case which she casually made her way over to, seemingly in no particular hurry despite Buffy's earlier request. After pulling it open, she went about collecting up clothing from the floor and piling it in haphazardly.

“Nice system you've got here,” Buffy said as she took another look around. “The way you've got everything evenly spread out across the entire room, it's very – well, I think my mom would call it post-modern.” She looked up, pretending to think hard, though Faith wasn't paying her any attention. “Or maybe she'd just call you a slob.”

“Hey, it's not my fault no-one told me this place would be low on wardrobe space.” Faith picked up a white vest top from the floor, held it out in front of her as she ran her eyes up and down it several times, and then threw it back over her shoulder before moving on to another piece of apparel.

“Oh yeah, that's definitely the problem,” Buffy quipped, continuing to watch Faith pack with a content amusement.

“So what were you up to last night?” Faith asked casually. She started squashing down the contents of the bag, freeing up more room.

“What do you mean?”

“Well for one thing, I didn't hear you come up last night. And also, you look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” Buffy grumbled, instinctively moving her hand up to try and ruffle her hair in to some sort of life.

Faith glanced back at Buffy over her shoulder. “I just meant you look tired is all.”

“A little,” Buffy admitted, though that was somewhat of an understatement. She eyed Faith's bed with a hint of dismay, wanting little more than to collapse on top of it and remain there for the entire day. Unfortunately she had a party to prepare for, and so the best she could hope to do was to raid Giles' tea collection.

“So long as you weren't necking on the couch with Angel all night.”

“Actually, Angel and I are –“ Her brow furrowed. “Well, we're pretty much Angel and I right now. Little in the way of crossover.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” Faith said with no real emotion. “So what then?”

“Just looking into the mayor.” Technically it wasn't a total lie, Buffy told herself. She didn't want to get Faith's hopes up without knowing more about what she'd read. “You know, the whole research thing.”

“At that time of night?” Faith said, struggling slightly as she made her way over to Buffy with her bulging bag grasped in both hands. “Couldn't it have waited until morning?”

Buffy shrugged. “It's important.”

“Well, was it worth it?”

“I hope so. We'll see what Giles has to say though.” Faith didn't visibly react to the name, and Buffy hoped that was because Faith wasn’t harbouring any long term resentment over the information Buffy had shared. She held her hand out toward Faith's bag. “Here, let me take that.”

“No, I've got it,” Faith replied as she quickly moved the bag away from Buffy's reach. “Thanks anyway,” she added.

“OK, I guess those pancakes will just have to go to waste then. A pity really,” Buffy said with a knowing grin.

Faith looked over to the bedside table and then back to Buffy. She hesitated for just a moment before holding the bag out. “Don't get too used to this, B. When I'm back at full strength I'll be kicking your ass in training all over again.”

“I can hardly wait.” Buffy took the bag from her hands. It was heavier than she expected, taking her by surprise and almost falling through her grip. “Whoa. How do you even afford all this stuff?”

Faith smirked. “You really don't wanna know.”

“Oh.” Buffy cast a glance at the sound system. “Forget I even asked.”

----------

“So?” Buffy asked for the third time in a minute, hovering impatiently over Giles' shoulder. “Will it work?”

Willow and Giles were already stationed at the library when the two Slayers arrived. The Rosenberg household had also been the unfortunate recipients of the mayor's invitations, and with Willow having already filled Giles in on the situation, that meant Buffy could focus on the more promising news.

“For Pete's sake, just hold on a minute will you,” Giles said, his eyes scanning over the late night reading material while Buffy continued to pester him for answers.

Buffy sighed and began pacing along the length of the table. “I thought librarians could read fast,” she muttered.

“Maybe they could if they were given a moment's peace and quiet.”

“What's the deal, B?” Faith asked, her eyes trailing Buffy. “You're way too excited about this. You find mayor Kryptonite or something?”

“Better,” Buffy replied simply before refocusing on Giles. “Well?”

She could make out the faint sound of Giles' teeth grinding against each other. “This does seem like it would do the job,” he said, his eyes flicking up at her briefly before he continued to read.

“Do what job?” Faith asked. “Someone wanna fill me in here?”

“We can undo it,” Buffy said excitedly as she faced Faith. “Once we get the shard we can transfer its energy back to you. It'll be like it never happened.”

There was a short pause before Faith replied. “Are you sure?”

Buffy noticed Faith's lips curl up ever so slightly and a genuine smile was her reply.

“Buffy,” Faith began.

“Oh,” Giles interrupted before she had gotten any further.

Buffy didn't like the sound of that. “What?” she asked. Her optimism immediately entered a tailspin, and already she feared the answer to the simple question.

“You understand what this means, yes?” His extended index finger pointed halfway down the page of the book, but she couldn't make out the small, upside down text from where she stood.

She just shook her head.

“This passage indicates that...” He looked between Faith and Buffy before beginning again. “The energy taken by the shard isn't infinite; it can and will run dry.” He paused briefly. “If too much of the energy is used up then there won't be anything left to get back,” he added, but Buffy had already connected the dots.

“That makes sense,” Willow agreed. “Magic can't just poof from out of nowhere,” she said, her fingers flicking outward as she gestured a small explosion. “Power has to be transformed. It has to be borrowed, o-or taken from another source.”

Buffy was momentarily taken aback by the new information, having stopped her research as soon as she had come across the more promising part of the book. “OK, that's fine.” She tried to blot out the undesirable scenarios that her mind insisted on drumming up. “Then we just need to move fast, right?”

She looked at Faith. The light that had briefly appeared within her brown eyes had been revoked. “Hey,” she said softly. When that didn't get any reaction she lightly touched Faith on the arm. The girl was startled to life, jumping and pulling her arm back.

“It won't come to that,” Buffy promised, her hand still hovering in mid-air. “We'll do whatever we have to.”

Faith nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching up momentarily, displaying a slither of hope amongst her otherwise sullen features.

Buffy turned back to Giles, her mind already racing its way toward a new plan. “OK, so we need to get to the mayor, and he's throwing this anniversary party tomorrow night. It's perfect. We can get close without having to worry about being arrested the moment we walk through the front door.”

“Buffy, that's exactly what he wants,” Giles said. “This party is clearly an attempt to force our hand. To face him on his home territory, and after sundown no less? He's holding all the cards.”

“Not all of them,” came a familiar voice from the entrance. In the doorway stood Wesley, a large, worn book under his arm and Cordelia flanking him to his left.

“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked sourly, her mood darkening as she took a single step toward him.

“Now, I understand that you're upset with me, and rightly so,” Wesley said, holding out his free hand as if it could somehow stop her advance. “Perhaps involving the council was a bad idea, but--”

“Gee, you think?” Buffy said, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

“But I didn't contact them again last night, I swear it. However they found out about Faith, it wasn't through me.”

Buffy shook her head. “No dice, Wesley; I don't buy it.”

“God, Buffy, get over yourself already,” Cordelia chimed in. “The whole world isn't some giant conspiracy theory that revolves around you. How do you know they weren't already on their way here?”

“And what, they just happened to read about Faith in the midnight times? The council knew what happened, and that means someone told them.”

“Well maybe they had a demon. A listening demon. With big ears, and, and...” Cordelia's arms waved around in front of her. “And hearing aids! Yeah, that's right. High quality, medical grade, catch-your-ex-boyfriend-cheating-on-you hearing aids.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows in bewilderment, staring at Cordelia as if she had lost her mind, and even Wesley looked sceptical.

“The point is...” Cordelia started, and then her hung mouth open as her eyes looked from side to side before landing on Wesley. “What was the point again?”

“The point is,” Wesley took over, “is that I want to help, if you'll allow it.” He readjusted the book until he was holding it in both hands, and then quickly strode forward before Buffy had time to object, placing the hefty tome down on the table with a loud thump. “And I managed to lay my hands on this, along with another four volumes currently stored in the boot of Cordelia's car. The Books of Ascension.” He looked to Giles with a pleased smile on his face. “I believe you may have heard of them.”

Giles quickly moved around the table as he adjusted his glasses. “How did you get a hold of them?” He ran his hand over the front cover, removing a thick layer of dust in the process.

“With tenacity and guile, Mr Giles.” Giles looked at him wryly, and Wesley stood firm under the gaze for only a matter of seconds. “Along with the, err, small fee of five thousand dollars,” he added quietly, his smile slipping.

“Ouch. Them's some expensive breaks,” Willow said dourly, pouting on behalf of Wesley, and Buffy almost felt bad when a small smile crept its way on to her face.

“Yes, well, at the time I had hoped to have it reimbursed.” Wesley's head dropped. “Unfortunately, as it happens, the council have informed me that they will not by requiring my services for the time being.”

Buffy eyed the downtrodden figure as she questioned whether he was telling the truth. Somebody had to have ratted Faith out, and it wouldn't have been the first time Wesley had gone behind their backs to the council. Something didn't add up though; if Wesley had given them Faith on a silver platter then why had they tossed him aside?

“They fired you?” Giles asked.

“If you want to get technical.”

A small laugh escaped Giles' throat. “Early retirement not looking so humorous now, is it?”

“This is hardly the time to get snippy.”

“While I hate to break up this touching reunion,” Buffy interrupted, “care to share what's so important about these books?”

Wesley instantly perked up. “I'm glad you asked,” he said. “They go into great detail about the mayor's planned ascension. Of most interest, however, is that without the box of Gavrok, it simply cannot happen.” A wide, triumphant smile beamed across his face. “All we need to do is destroy it and the world is safe once again.”

“No box, no ascension?”

“Precisely.”

“Then we trade,” Buffy said simply. “For real this time. The box for the shards.”

“Indeed.” Wesley's eyes widened. “Wait. What? No. Absolutely not.” Buffy stared at him. “No,” he reasserted.

“If you're going to help, then you can stay. But when I want your opinion, Wes, I'll ask for it.”

“That box is the key to the mayor's ascension,” Wesley continued anyway. “We'd be playing right into his hands. Mr. Giles, please talk some sense into her.”

Giles gave him a disapproving look before turning to Buffy. “He's not wrong,” he said cautiously. “I understand that you want to help Faith – a-and we all do – but Buffy, the fallout from the mayor's ascension could be catastrophic.”

“And what about everyone who goes to the party tomorrow?” Buffy asked, anger creeping into her voice. She was aggrieved that Giles had sided with Wesley so easily, and the sympathetic look she was receiving did nothing but rub her up the wrong way. “Are they acceptable collateral as well?”

“Listen to me, please. I'm not saying that Faith or anyone else is expendable, however--”

“Buffy has a point,” Willow said, rising from her seat. “I mean my mom is planning to go. And sure, we may not get on all that well, and yeah, she pretty much just ignores my existence, but that doesn't mean I'm OK with letting her die.”

“Wait, why does everyone keep talking about a party?” Cordelia asked, looking between them all in disdain. “And why haven't I been invited? I mean hello, I'm Cordelia Chase. Without me there is no party.”

“We'll find another way to stop it,” Giles stressed, ignoring Cordelia but for an irritated glance.

“Really?” Buffy said. “Because I can't hurt him, and apparently magic won't touch him while those things are protecting him. So if either of you have some brilliant idea then let's hear it, because I am all ears.”

There was silence as the two former watchers exchanged glances. Neither spoke up, but nor did their almost matching, disapproving looks shift.

“Then we go with the only option we have,” Buffy asserted.

“Not the only option,” Faith said, joining the conversation. All eyes shot toward her. “Bet I can still get close enough to swipe the shards.”

“No way,” Buffy said immediately. “Too risky.”

“I know him,” Faith reasoned. “I can walk right into his office, no questions asked.”

“And look what he did to you the last time you got close to him.”

“Might I suggest--” Wesley started diplomatically.

“You said it yourself, you couldn't stop him,” Faith cut in. “So if he wanted me dead, I would be already, right?”

“Look, I get that you two bonded or whatever,” Buffy said with a generous helping of sarcasm, instantly drawing an angry look from Faith, “but don't think for one moment that he won't finish what he started if he catches you trying something.”

“Well I guess we'll find out soon enough,” Faith said, her hand landing on her hip defiantly.

“Buffy, perhaps--” Giles tried.

“If you think that I'm going to just let you walk--” Buffy began, drowning out Giles.

“It's not your call,” Faith interrupted, raising her voice.

“The hell it isn't,” Buffy shouted. “No one is doing anything until I say so.”

“So how you planning on stopping me?” Faith threw her thumb back over her shoulder. “Gonna lock me up in wolf-boy's playpen?”

“Finally, a good idea,” Buffy shot back.

Faith narrowed her eyes. Buffy crossed her arms, refusing to budge on the matter.

“Well you'll never guess what my folks got in the mail this morning,” came Xander's disbelieving voice from the library entrance. Buffy and Faith continued to trade stares, remaining silent along with the rest of the group, and the sound of approaching footsteps slowed to a halt. “Bad timing?”

“Oh don't worry,” Cordelia said cheerfully as she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Our well adjusted Slayers are just about to go all Rambo on one another while we all wait around for the mayor to kill us.”

“This is my fault,” Faith said, her full attention still on Buffy. “Let me fix it.”

Buffy ran both hands back through her hair as she blew the frustration out from her lungs. “OK, fine, if that's what you want to hear: this is your fault. You screwed up. Big time.” She kept her voice at a normal level, trying to deter Faith without angering her further. “But you've already done enough to make it right, and I am not going to let you throw your life away.”

“Damnit, I'm not trying to.” Faith's arm shot out in irritation. “But I guess that whole thing about trusting me was just bull.”

“No. I meant every word,” Buffy reassured her. “It's not you I don't trust. The mayor is deeply dangerous, Faith, and you're...” Buffy caught herself before she had finished, but the look on Faith's face told her she'd already said enough.

“What? Go on, say it. Just some helpless, little girl, right?”

“No,” Buffy said weakly, fighting the strong urge to break eye contact. She'd had no intention of being so callous, but at the same time she knew Faith wasn't all that far off the mark. She couldn't help that she worried though; what else was she supposed to do? “If you want to be pissed at me for trying to keep you safe, then that's fine. I can deal with that.” She couldn't keep the shaking from her voice. “But I'll be damned if I have to stand there and watch while they put you in the ground.”

Faith's features softened, a sad smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Hey, I've got no plans on going out any time soon. I'm a Slayer too, B. I know I can do this; I just need you to let me.”

The indecision split Buffy's mind in two. She had no desire to fight, but she had trouble looking past the fact that Faith was, as it stood, a normal human being. No part of it was fair, but that didn't make it any less true. Faith watched her intently, the wilful determination clearly not a part of the Slayer package, and Buffy couldn't bring herself to shoot her down. “OK,” she conceded, “but I'm coming with you.”

Faith shook her head. “I wish you could, but remember the whole walking right in part? Not really gonna fly if we go in hand in hand.”

“No. Buffy should go with you,” Willow said, quickly drawing everyone's attention. “We all should.” A sly smile grew on her face. “I think I have a plan.”

Buffy approached Faith and Xander as the two of them stood at the side of the street only a half block away from the mayor's office. It was the night of the mayor's anniversary party, and the unsuspecting guests were likely already lining up outside. Faith's hand was shoved up under her top, fidgeting around with something out of sight, and she didn't look particularly impressed. “This stupid thing keeps digging in me,” she complained.

“'Tis the harsh cost of espionage,” Xander said, shaking his head sadly.

“Where did you even get a wire?” Buffy asked. “Is this some part of your soldier-for-a-night thing?”

“Nah, I borrowed it from my uncle Rory. He bought it way back when he thought his wife was having an affair. Stuffed it in her pillow before hitting the town for a night of debauchery of his very own. A tale he likes to share when he drinks a little too much, which is to say at just about every family event ever.”

“So, little bit paranoid then?”

“Turns out, not so much. I don't think he much appreciated the sounds he heard.”

Buffy shuddered at the thought. “Yeek.”

“There can never be enough yeek,” Xander agreed, echoing her shudder with his own over the top version. He passed a small, plastic unit with a built in speaker over to her. “Please try and bring it back in one piece, or the next gathering will be just that little bit more uncomfortable.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Buffy said non-committally. She flipped the device up into the air, and Xander winced when she feigned letting it drop to the floor.

“You are a bad person,” he stressed, jabbing a pointed finger at her before turning to leave.

Buffy watched his retreat, left alone with Faith as he made his way over to join the rest of the group. “Hey, you,” she chirped.

“Hey,” Faith returned.

“Do you still want to go through with this?” Buffy asked earnestly. “No one would blame you if you changed your mind.”

“I'm good,” Faith said simply. Her hand emerged, seemingly content with the positioning of the listening device for the time being, and she pulled at the hem of her tight-fitting top, bringing it back down over her midriff.

Buffy smiled what she hoped was a convincing cover-up for the unease that had slowly been building up inside her over the past few hours. The very thought of sending Faith into a room with the monster who'd taken from her made Buffy's stomach clench with dread. While the plan may have been their best bet, and she wanted to be as supportive to Faith as she could, there were just too many ways it could end badly for her to feel entirely sure about the situation. “OK. Kinda lucky I guess, because plan B is pretty much we send Wesley in and hope he can talk the mayor into a deep sleep. I know one more reading from the books of ascension and I'd have been out on the floor.”

“Yeah.” Faith's eyes were already roaming down the street toward their destination. “The guy likes his research.”

“Some might say a little too much.” Buffy stood watching the side of Faith's head for several moments, waiting for the other girl to move, speak, or at least look her way; but Faith was showing far more interest in the empty street.

“Are we OK?” Buffy asked tentatively. Between her friends, her mother, and the general disarray that had come with preparing for the night, her and Faith hadn't had much alone time over the past day. What little they had shared could best be described as civil, and while that could have been seen as a huge step forward not all that long ago, Buffy found herself missing the rapport that the two of them had started to build.

“Five by five.”

“Right,” Buffy said, Faith's choice of words doing little to convince her. “It just sorta feels like... It's nothing.” She turned her back to Faith, took a single step away, and then paused before spinning back around on her heels. “No, it's not nothing,” she began with a renewed determination. “I know nothing, and this is definitely something. You've barely strung more than five words together since yesterday, and now you won't even look at me.”

Faith did exactly that, proving Buffy wrong with a single turn of her head. “We're good, B, really,” she said, the softly spoken words sounding sincere enough to Buffy's ears.

“Then what's wrong? I mean there is something going on, right? It's not just me being wacky, paranoid Buffy?”

“It's just--“ Faith shook her head. “It doesn't matter.”

“Faith, if something’s bothering you then it matters. Is it the mayor? Because he did this to you. You don't owe him anything.”

“It's not him.”

Buffy shook her head in confusion. “Then talk to me. Please. Tell me what's wrong.”

Faith's head bobbed back and forth as she looked around, her gaze dancing from point to point before finding solace in the concrete walkway. She took a deep breath, and her hand moved through the back of her hair, scrunching it tightly in her fist. “If we pull this off – I get my strength back, we stop the mayor, everything goes back to the way it was, right?”

“So far, so good,” Buffy said, her mouth twitching up into a cautious smile while her mind busied itself trying to conceive where Faith's train of thought was heading.

“Yeah, except then what? You go back to your life, your friends, and I...” Her voice trailed off, and she released the grip on her hair, her arm flopping hopelessly to her side. “There's no reason for you to have to stick around me anymore.”

“Hey, no,” Buffy gently objected, her brow furrowing from confusion. “This isn't some job for me, Faith. Trust me, when I help Joe Bloggs escape from a gang of bloodsucking fiends, he doesn't get to come home for dinner. So no, I'm not just going to walk away from you. Don't you even think that.”

“I can't help it, Buffy,” Faith replied, her voice approaching a ragged whisper. “You wouldn't exactly be the first. Probably not the last either.”

“I won't be any of them,” Buffy promised. She brought her hand up, gently cupping it around the side of Faith's face and guiding her head up until their eyes met. “There's a place for you here, Faith, if you want it.” She kept her eyes glued on Faith's, determined to show her that her worries were misplaced. “And I'd very much like it if you stayed a part of my life.”

Faith stared back for a moment without blinking, her brows hanging down close to her eyes. She forced out a laugh that sounded more nervous than anything else, her eyes flicking away for just a beat. “God, look at me. You must think I'm such an idiot.”

Even amongst the apprehension that tinged the girl's features, Buffy could still see the spark of intensity in Faith's eyes as it glistened brightly through the tearful mist. “I am looking at you, Faith, and you know what I see? A brave, passionate, charming girl who's not willing to give up no matter how many times life kicks her down. And I don't know about you, but I can't think of anything stupid about that.” Faith's eyes closed, her eyebrows pinching together, and her lips curled up at one side to reveal a thin glimpse of her teeth.

“Well, maybe charming is a bit of an overstatement, but we can work on that,” Buffy joked. Faith let out another short laugh, sounding far more joyful than the last, and as she opened her eyes a single tear was sent rolling down her cheek. Buffy carefully swept her thumb across Faith's face, catching the droplet in its descent and wiping it away before letting her hand drop down to Faith's arm.

“I should probably warn you though, in the interests of full disclosure,” Buffy said, smiling mirthfully. “You may not have heard, but we're kinda on a Hellmouth. Could be dangerous.”

Faith's mouth turned all the way up, the toothy grin overshadowing her smudged eye-liner and messed up hair. “Yeah? Guess we'd better not waste any time then.”

Buffy nodded. She wrapped her arms around Faith, pulling her into a gentle squeeze. “Remember, you won't be alone in there, Faith. I'll be as close as I can get.”

Faith didn't hesitate before leaning into Buffy to return the embrace. “I know you will.”

They stood together, holding each other in comfortable silence for several moments before pulling apart, Faith's fingers trailing down across Buffy's bare arm as they separated. “Then let's go kick some may-jor ass,” Buffy said, smiling hopefully at her own pun. “Get it? May-Jor?”

Faith rose a sceptical eyebrow, but Buffy continued to look at her expectantly and it didn't take long before Faith was shaking her head, a reluctant grin making its way onto her face. “That was just bad, even by your standards.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Buffy complained through pouted lips. “What's wrong with my standards?”

“Nothing, B,” Faith said, the confidence in her voice well on the way to recovery. “I like them just the way they are.”

----------

Buffy was crouched down with Willow, Xander, and Angel, the four of them huddled conspiratorially on the roof of the mayor's office, only a couple of feet from the skylight that looked down over the top floor office. Behind them, a worn rug was laid out across the floor beneath a thin, pre-prepared circle of sulphur. A trio of candles, waiting to be lit, formed a triangle around the circumference. Somewhere inside, Wesley and Giles were busy mingling, in place to try and evacuate the guests should the festivities start earlier than hoped.

Buffy clutched the receiver in her hand, listening intently to every sound that was made from inside the building. For the time being, that consisted of little more than the intermingled streams of footsteps as Faith was escorted up to see the mayor.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Buffy asked Willow, even though she knew it was a little too late to backtrack.

Willow nodded confidently. “If Faith can get hold of the shard, then we're plenty close enough for the spell to do its thing. Easy as eye of newt pie, and without that pesky thirty minute baking time.”

There was a short knock before the mayor's voice rang out. “Come in.”

“Hey, boss,” Faith said casually.

“Well, isn't this an unexpected visit,” the mayor said, his level voice giving nothing away. “I didn't think I'd be seeing you around these parts again.” There was a short silence before he continued. “And look at you; you're a mess. That Buffy has really done a number on you, hasn't she?”

Buffy caught sight of Willow's questioningly pinched eyebrows and gave an evasive shrug. “She's committed.”

“Sir. The guests are all inside.” Buffy had to assume Faith's escort was a vampire. With what the mayor had planned, there was bound to be a general skew toward a more supernatural workforce. “We're ready to begin.”

“Whoa there, let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is a party, remember. So OK, I plan to kill them all, but what sort of host would I be if I didn't let them enjoy the canapés first?” Buffy heard the mayor's cheery chortle through the speaker, and even from afar it made her want to scratch at her skin. “Has there been any sign of our special guests?” he asked more seriously.

“None so far. We'll keep looking though.”

“Good. See that you do. They'll be here; it's only a question of when. Isn't that right, Faith?”

Buffy couldn't help but start over analysing the question, her stomach twisting anxiously while she tried to identify any sign of suspicion.

“You know what they're like,” Faith said, her voice void of concern, and the smallest of smiles crept its way on to Buffy's face as she pictured the casual shrug of Faith's shoulders. “Can't keep their noses out of anything.”

“You're not wrong there. Too curious for her own good, that girl. And one of these days someone is going to bite that inquisitive, little nose right off. And by someone, I mean me.”

“Yeah, well we'll see about that,” Buffy muttered, directing a glare at the black box in her hand.

“Oh, and one more thing before you go,” Mayor Wilkins continued. “Send a team to the school. Have them tear the library apart if they have to, but make sure they come back with my box.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh no,” Buffy said. The box was locked away along with their stash of weapons, safe enough from the hands of prying students, but she knew it wouldn't take a group of vampires long to tear their way through to it.

“On it,” Angel replied as soon as their eyes met. He rose to his feet and took off across the roof without another word, his black clothing blending easily into the backdrop of the dark night.

“Angel!” Her hushed shout stopped him in his tracks. “Don't open it.”

He gave a curt nod, and then he was moving again. He didn't slow down to use the ladder, instead stepping straight off the edge of the roof and dropping down out of sight.

“And then there were three,” Xander said, trading worried glances with Willow and Buffy.

“Tell me, Faith, why are you back? I think you've made it pretty clear that you're not happy here. I can't for the life of me understand why not, but...” The mayor's voice trailed away, leaving Faith with an opening to explain herself.

“Come on, Faith,” Buffy whispered to herself after the silence lingered for a little too long.

“I was,” Faith said. “I mean am. I just needed time to clear my head, but I get it now. I don't belong with them. She's made that obvious enough. Just give me my powers back and I'll make sure that come graduation day Buffy Summers will already be in the ground.”

Another knock on the mayor's door interrupted them before Buffy could find out if he was buying any of it. “There's a call for you on line two,” came a new voice. “It's from the police department.”

“If you'll excuse me, Faith, I should take this,” the mayor said. “Can't be having any disarray in Sunnydale without my saying so, can we?”

“Alright,” Faith said a few moments later. “Alone at last. Now, if I was a magical jewel...”

Buffy was busy listening to the rustling and clunking as Faith searched the office when something occurred to her. “There's no way he'd leave it lying around. I bet he's still got it on him.” She held up the receiver in front of her, turning it in her hand as she sought out some sort of button or switch. “How do I talk to her?”

Xander looked at her like she'd lost the plot. “You don't. That thing was for domestic subterfuge, Buff, not to save on phone bills.”

“Wonderful,” Buffy muttered. Moving straight on to plan B, she quickly crept over to the skylight, being sure to keep the bulk of her weight on the roof as she leant across the window panes. Down below, Faith was trying to tug open a drawer in the mayor's desk, and Buffy tapped her fingers against the glass. Faith took a brief look around the room before returning to her task, and Buffy tried again, rapping her knuckles down hard. That time she caught Faith's attention, and the girl looked up, the confusion quickly falling from her face when she spotted Buffy.

“Hey,” Faith said, giving Buffy a friendly smile. “The desk's locked. Kinda need a key though.”

Buffy shook her head and mouthed down her suspicions.

“What? I can't hear you,” Faith replied.

Buffy started patting at the top corner of her t-shirt, trying to indicate that the shard was likely in the mayor's pocket, but Faith only raised a questioning eyebrow. Instead Buffy tried taking hold of the material between her finger and thumb, pulling it out and shaking it up and down.

“Right there with you, B, but I'm not sure this is really the time for self stimulation.”

Buffy sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes as she let her top fall back into place. She repositioned herself so that her lower body was over the skylight, and the glass groaned out in complaint. She froze in place, her teeth clenching as she waited to start hurtling toward the ground. After several nervous moments had passed, she still found herself safely poised above the office. She carefully twisted around to pull out the lining of her jeans pocket before repeatedly jabbing at it with her other hand.

“It's in his pocket? Well why didn't you say so?”

Buffy shot her a disapproving look, and Faith just grinned back. Buffy was busy inching her way back to the safety of the roof to rejoin her friends when she heard the unmistakable voice of the mayor. “Looking for something?” Giving up on the more careful escape, she quickly scurried the rest of the way off the skylight.

“Thought you might have some more of those cookies stashed away somewhere,” Faith replied without missing a beat.

“Did you now?”

“Sorry, boss. No manners, I know. I should have waited.”

“You know, Faith, not much goes on in this town without my hearing about it. I just got off the phone with the head of the police department, and they had a heck of an interesting incident to report.”

“Incident?” Faith asked.

“It's the darnedest thing. There's a report of a large fight at the docks the other night. Pretty vicious apparently. But do you want to know the most interesting part? The officers there swear they saw two teenage girls leaving the scene together. One blonde, one brunette, looking more than a little comfortable with each other. Of course, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”

There was silence over the wire, and Buffy's anxiety spiked up, giving birth to a nauseous sensation that bubbled away in the pit of her stomach.

“It's a shame you know, it really is,” the mayor continued. “I had high hopes for you, but what kind of example would I be setting for the community if I didn't punish disobedience?”

“Come on, boss, you know I'll always be your girl. Here, let me make it up to you.” Faith's words had picked up a sultry edge.

“Is she...” Xander started, his voice trailing off instantly as he looked at Buffy, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Oh God,” Buffy said. “That's it, I'm going in.” She tossed the receiver down to Willow.

“Don't you think you should wait--” Xander began.

Already to her feet, Buffy shushed him as the mayor started speaking again. “Well aren't you quite the little pickpocket. Admittedly the dismount needs a little work, but apart from that.” Another laugh erupted from his throat.

“Get off me,” Faith said, her voice strained.

“Or maybe now's a good time,” Xander amended.

“OK, Xan, you're up,” Buffy said quickly. “Help the others get everyone out of there. I don't want this turning into a massacre. Will, are you--”

“I'm good,” Willow interrupted. “Go.”

Buffy gave a quick nod before striding over to the skylight. She could see the mayor below, his hand wrapped around one of Faith's arms while she kept the other behind her back and out of reach. Not wasting any time to see if the glass ceiling could be opened, Buffy slammed her foot straight through it instead. The entire central pane was sent crashing down, sending hundreds of tiny shards shooting across the floor in all directions.

Following in its descent, Buffy landed in front of a surprised looking mayor. “Mind if I drop in?” She spun around as she kicked out, her foot landing in the mayor's stomach and sending him back. He kept his hold on Faith, and she was dragged down to the floor with him, the shard escaping from her hand as she fell. Buffy's eyes trailed it until it came to a stop only a short distance away, but the mayor reached out and grabbed her ankle as she tried to make her way over to it. He pulled hard, taking her legs out from under her, and she fell flat, her arms barely reacting fast enough to keep her head from crunching into the floor.

She wasn't down long, making it back to her feet a moment before he did. “Well aren't you just full of surprises,” he said. His backhand caught her across the face, and she flew across the room into a wooden cabinet, the beams of wood breaking around her. “Luckily, so am I.”

Sitting up, Buffy laid her eyes on the shrunken head that had fallen into her lap. She batted it away in disgust before pushing herself to her feet.

The mayor was almost at the shard when Faith darted in front of him. She plucked it from the ground without missing a step, moving fast enough to slimly avoid his reaching grasp.

“Willow, now!” Buffy shouted, loud enough that Willow could have heard even without the nearby listening device. The mayor was busy moving after Faith, but Buffy quickly intercepted, lashing out with a series of angry kicks. The mayor threw himself forward as he aimed a punch at her head. She ducked, using his momentum to send him flying over her back and across the room.

Even as he was pulling himself up, a bolt of hearty laughter left his throat. “I wasn't sure if you'd dare show your face tonight. I'm glad you did though. It wouldn't be the same without your head on a skewer.”

As the two of them squared off once again, the ear-piercing screech of an alarm sounded from somewhere out in the hallway, loud enough to be heard throughout the building. “Oops. Looks like the party's over, Chuckles,” she said. A flash from the corner of the room caught her eye, and she looked over to see Faith down on her knees, her chest visibly pulsating in and out while her mouth gaped open. A bright light emanated from the shard, shimmering as it washed over her and sunk down into her skin.

The office door burst open, the force slamming it back against the wall, and a trio of vampires came bounding in. They took one look at Buffy before closing in. She parried the attack from the first, then dived under the swing of another. Spinning as she came back up, her heel connected with the face of the third, flipping it onto its back. She pulled out her stake and brought it down, connecting with its heart just as the other two vampires rushed her. Without time to prepare, she was caught by a hard fist to the stomach, and she doubled over as the air whooshed from her lungs. Her stake fumbled from her hand, landing on the floor just out of reach. One on each arm, the vampires forced her down to her knees, keeping her locked in place as the mayor approached with another of the shards in his hand.

Buffy tried in vain to shrug the two vampires off, her awkward position not affording her enough leverage to break free. “It's a shame you'll miss the party,” the mayor said, his eerie smile in full throttle. “I've got quite the show stopper planned.”

“Hey, boss!” The mayor turned to find himself face to face with Faith. She cocked her head and flicked her eyebrows up. “Here's my resignation.” She swung a large wooden beam up and around. It connected with the side of the mayor's face with a satisfying thunk and sent him flying onto his once orderly desk. He landed back-first on top, scattering the neatly arranged ornaments all over the floor. As he rolled off the other side he grabbed desperately at the edge of the desk, managing nothing more than to tip it over as he went. Faith brought the beam down across her raised knee, easily snapping it in half, and then plunged the two makeshift stakes through both vampires' hearts in a single lunge.

“Welcome back,” Buffy said, smiling at Faith while the two piles of dust dropped to the floor at her sides.

“Miss me?” Faith asked through a wide grin, holding out her arm.

“Hmm, maybe a little,” Buffy replied teasingly. She took hold of Faith's hand, letting herself be pulled back to her feet. Side by side, they turned to face the mayor as he rose from behind the remnants of his desk.

“You think you've won?” he sneered, his narrowed eyes trained on Buffy. “We'll see how happy you are when you're spending the rest of your days trapped in a box you little bitch.” His chest angrily heaved up and down as he started to chant. He held up a glass vial, and the liquid contents swirled more and more impatiently against the glass confines as each word of Latin was spoken.

“Careful,” Buffy warned, holding her arm out in front of Faith to try and urge her back. Faith didn't budge an inch, instead stomping her foot down, flipping Buffy's lost stake up off the floor. In one smooth motion, she grabbed it, reared her arm back, and then thrust the stake forward. It sailed through the air, colliding point first into the mayor's vial. The glass exploded on impact, freeing the deep purple liquid to run through his fingers and down his arm. His eyes widened in horror as it crackled furiously against his skin.

That was the last movement he made. He didn't shout or scream; he only stood there in disbelief, the colour draining from his face as he watched, motionless. His features were left frozen in place, void of the cheerful smile that was proudly displayed in the photo hung behind him.

“7:52,” Oz said.

“What?” Buffy asked, looking up.

“Well it was 7:51 when you last looked at your watch, so I was just thinking that we've probably moved on to 7:52.”

Buffy was sat across the table from Willow and Oz, the three of them surrounded by the combined roar of teenagers, the noise unnecessarily helped out by the live band set up on the stage somewhere over Buffy's shoulder. It was one night on from their showdown with the mayor, but more importantly one night before they were freed from high school forever, and so they'd gathered at The Bronze for a pre-graduation celebration. She'd seen Xander and Cordelia verbally sparring earlier, and even Giles and Wesley had turned up, though they'd since retreated to the corner of the bar in a likely fruitless attempt to find some peace. That left Faith as the only absentee, even though she'd accepted Buffy's invitation to join them.

“Do I detect worry?” Willow asked, offering up a sympathetic smile.

“A little,” Buffy admitted. “I mean Faith didn't seem all that shook up last night, and the mayor totally had it coming, but...” She stared down into her glass, watching as the tiny bubbles floated up to the surface.

“But you don't know if she's dealing?” Oz asked.

“Right,” Buffy confirmed. “Who's to say it wasn't all a little too close to home? I didn't see it before, but the thing with Finch really tore her up. And now the mayor – I don't even know if he could be considered human anymore, but that doesn't mean it was any easier for her.”

“On the news it said he died of a heart attack. So does that mean he's definitely, you know?” Willow said before she mimed stabbing a knife through her chest.

“I don't think so; not technically at least. He still has the whole immortality thing going for him. But after what he said about me being trapped in a box for the rest of my life, I don't think he's going to be bothering anyone anytime soon.”

“Well he wanted to live forever,” Willow said, smiling brightly.

“Yeah,” Buffy said, unable to match Willow's enthusiasm. She noticed the pair of worried looks being directed her way from across the table. “Sorry guys, I know this is supposed to be a party. You know, of the actual peppy variety. You two should go have fun. Do that whole dancing thing, or whatever it is the cool kids are up to these days. I'll be over in a bit.”

“There's no hurry. We can--”

“Go!” Buffy commanded, her outstretched arm pointing them away.

“Well I'm certainly not going to argue with a Slayer,” Oz said. Willow gave Buffy a small smile before she let Oz lead her off in the direction of the dance floor. Once they'd gone, Buffy slouched back in her seat with a sigh. Deciding to give Faith another half hour before giving up and heading home, she sat staring straight at a vacant pillar, letting her eyes slowly lose focus as the surrounding noise faded into the background. It didn't take long until her lids slowly drifted shut.

“Hey girlfriend. You really know how to party.”

Faith's hand landed on Buffy's shoulder as she spoke, and Buffy shot up straight. Her momentum would have sent her flying off the front of her chair were it not for the sturdy hand supporting her. “Faith!” she managed, the surprise in her voice echoed internally by the abrupt pounding in her chest.

“You OK there?” Faith asked, looking down at Buffy as an amused smile played over her face.

“I was just--”

“Sleeping like you've just made it through a fun packed 80th birthday?”

“Resting my eyes,” Buffy said lamely. “You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry.” Faith's hand moved away as she dropped down into a chair next to Buffy. “So where is everyone? Or was the whole party thing just a ruse to get me here?”

Buffy took a quick look around, but she couldn't see much of anything through the surrounding crowds. “They're here somewhere. Can I get you a drink? I don't think they'll serve me beer, but soda I can do.”

“Nah, I'm good thanks.”

“Maybe later then.” It didn't take much in the way of observation to see the energy oozing from Faith, and she looked more laid-back than Buffy had seen her in a long while. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm great. Why wouldn't I be?” Faith leant back against the chair, kicking her feet up to rest on the table, showing off her black cowboy boots as they poked out from her slim fit pants. “Dusted six vamps last night. The Sunny D underworld knows that Faith's back on the clock. Or at least they would if I'd left anyone to spread the message.”

“I thought you said you were just going to head home?” Buffy said, recalling Faith's quick exit the night before.

Faith shrugged, somewhat awkwardly from her lax position. “And I was. But then I passed a couple of cemeteries on the way and figured, hey, no harm in taking the scenic route, right?”

“I guess not,” Buffy said, deciding to let it drop. If Faith had no qualms with what had happened then Buffy wasn't exactly going to dwell on it either. She was more than happy to let the past stay that way.

“So, graduation huh?” Faith asked. “Your folks must be pretty proud.”

“Yeah. The way my mom's been going on about it you'd think she was the one graduating. If she keeps it up I'm worried she's going to have a stroke. But my dad is – well, he can't make it anymore. Something about a last minute business trip.”

“Bummer,” Faith said, her smile withdrawing a little.

“It's fine.” Buffy didn't want to bring even more gloom to the night than she already had. “It does mean there's a free seat going though. I know it's kind of lame, but you should come.”

“No way,” Faith said instantly, the disbelief in her voice difficult to miss.

“Oh,” Buffy managed, her thoughts faltering at the ease with which the idea had been shot down. “Yeah, sure,” she started as she tried to casually brush off the dismissal, “I mean, I underst--”

“You made it, B,” Faith cut in, bringing Buffy's babbling to an abrupt end. Her feet swung back to the floor, and she sat forward, leaning in toward Buffy. “You got through high school, kicked some major ass in the exams, and you saved the world along the way. That's not lame; it's wicked cool.”

“You think?” Buffy said bashfully, her eyes lowering as she blushed from the unexpected compliment.

“No doubt,” Faith said, an enthusiastic smile on her face. “So what should I wear?”

Buffy couldn't keep the beaming smile from her face, but after glancing over at yet another one of Faith's revealing tops she still found herself unable to resist one quick jab. “Do you actually own anything else?” she jested.

“Sure. You should see the strapless version,” Faith returned without pause.

“Not quite what I had in mind.”

“Yeah? You say that now, but you haven't seen me in it yet.”

Buffy raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that my mother's going to be there?”

“Don't worry, B, I won't show you up.” Faith was back up on her feet, clearly too full of energy to stay still for any real length of time. “So, assuming it's not past your bedtime, you wanna dance?”

“It was only for a moment,” Buffy said, pouting her innocence. She took a hold of Faith's held out hand and followed the other girl through the crowd to the dance floor.

----------

“Mayor Wilkins was scheduled to give the commencement speech today, but as I'm sure you have all heard, his tragic heart attack means that is no longer possible.” Principal Snyder stood before the crowd of onlookers. Students took up the first few rows, each of them looking relieved to have made it to the final day, and they were closely followed by friends and family members. “It also left no time for the school board to find a replacement, and so you'll have to make do with me.”

“Lucky us,” Buffy whispered to Willow, who was sat by her side in the middle of the second row, and they shared a knowing look beneath their matching, crimson mortarboards.

“I'm sure there are one or two of you out there who more or less deserve to be here today,” Snyder continued, “and perhaps they will go on to do something meaningful with their lives. The rest of you will no doubt swan around your parents' basements for the next decade, leeching on to them just like you leeched on to my school.”

He looked up at the sky, and Buffy briefly thought he might actually tear up. However when he looked back his features had all but formed into a scowl; or perhaps that was his usual look, Buffy considered.

“I wish I could say I was glad to see you all go, but the sad truth is that there's a never ending stream of children just like you jutting out from the woodwork. One after another, like filthy, disgusting, little cockroaches.”

His eyes scanned over the crowd before landing on Buffy, and he eyed her suspiciously as he spoke. “And to whoever locked me in my office the other day, know that if we're ever so unfortunate that you procreate then I promise I'll have your children held back for detention.” His eyes moved on, looking across the row for other possible suspects and narrowing suspiciously when they landed on Xander, who in return simply shrugged his shoulders. Giving up, Snyder's eyes returned to the crowd as a whole. “Well then. Let's get on with it already.”

Despite the unorthodox speech, a short chorus of whoops, cheers, and clapping erupted from the crowd. Once it died down, Snyder retreated to the back of the stage, and then the ceremony began.

----------

“Hey. You made it,” Buffy said. She'd barely arrived on time for the event, her mom's constant fussing all morning making it difficult to get ready on time. When she had finally arrived, Willow had quickly ushered her to her seat before she'd had a chance to look for Faith. Seeing her for the first time, she ran her eyes over Faith's outfit, impressed that the girl hadn't followed through on her threat to wear something with even less material than the night before. Instead she looked more casual in a simple, white t-shirt and navy jeans.

“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” Faith said.

Buffy bounced up and down on the balls of her feet as she held up her diploma for Faith to see. “Looky what I got,” she said, her somewhat exaggerated excitement drawing a laugh from Faith.

“Pretty impressive, B,” Faith said. “So does that mean you're all set for college now?”

It took a while for that idea to really sink in. Buffy had been far too busy to process much over the past week, and she hadn't really considered that this was it. Three years of her life. The good, the bad, the scary, and the downright terrifying. The one thing in common – all of it was over, and she had a feeling she was going to miss it – the good parts at least. “I guess,” she finally replied.

“What?” Faith asked, picking up on Buffy's obvious jitters. “Little bit scary?” The two of them began to slowly walk across the school ground with no real destination in mind, carefully weaving their way past the groups of teenagers saying their goodbyes.

“Maybe a little. I mean it's weird to think that everything's going to change. And I have absolutely no idea what to expect.” She rolled the thought over in her head. “But new experiences can be good,” she reasoned, even though she was already wondering when the last new experience Sunnydale had offered her had been anything other than deadly. “Or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, so long as they don't come with sharp teeth.”

“Sadly that's pretty much the Sunnydale standard.” She shook off her doubts; she had an entire Summer to worry about preparing for college. “What about you, Faith?”

Faith shrugged. “Classroom's not really my scene. Too much sitting; not enough action.”

“I was thinking more in general. Tell me,” she said, motioning her hands out toward the other girl, “what's next for the life of Faith?”

“I dunno,” Faith said absently. “Never really had much of a life plan. Pretty much just go with the flow or whatever.”

“You are staying though, right? In Sunnydale I mean?” Buffy was well aware of just how much things had changed in the past week. The two of them had been thrown together by forces neither of them had any control over, and at one point it had seemed almost impossible to pick up the pieces after everything had gone to hell. They'd come through it all though, and to that end she was pretty sure she already knew the answer to her question. Still, she wasn't willing to leave anything else to chance, and so she figured it couldn't hurt to double check.

Faith's lips turned up at the corners. “I can think of one or two reasons to stick around,” was her vague reply.

The answer put a little more pep in Buffy's already spring-laden step. “Oh? And what might they be?” she asked coyly.

“Well for one,” Faith said, her eyes flicking to Buffy's overly sweet smile, “there's this great pizza place on the corner of fifth street. I mean really, the pepperoni there is to die for.”

Without warning, Buffy punched the other girl in the arm, a little harder than she'd intended.

“Jeez, B,” Faith complained as she rubbed at her arm, “How do you even have any friends left alive? It really is lucky I'm back at full strength.”

“Sorry,” Buffy said, not sounding all that remorseful, “but you totally deserved that. Speaking of though, has everything been alright since the spell? No additional limbs sprouting up, or cravings for the blood of the innocent?”

“As good as new,” Faith assured her. “It's a pity I'm going to have to move out of that apartment though. Nice place, but without the ex-employer's payments it's a couple of classes out of my league.” When she realized Faith had stopped walking, Buffy also came to a halt, turning to find a sly look on Faith's face. “Hey, unless you want to be my sugar daddy? You pay for the room and you can get all this in return.” Faith motioned her hands down her body, and she bared all her teeth in an over the top grin.

The waggling of the eyebrows was the last straw, and even as Buffy rolled her eyes she couldn't stop a wide grin from spreading over her own face. “I'll help you pack.”

“There you are.” Joyce appeared between the two of them from seemingly out of nowhere, pulling Buffy into a tight hug without warning. “I'm so proud of you,” she gushed.

“Thanks,” Buffy said simply, having already heard the sentiment at least a half dozen times that morning. She wrapped one arm around her mom while the other kept her diploma out of harms way. When she was still being held tight ten seconds later, Buffy raised a questioning eyebrow over her mom's shoulder to Faith. “OK, I think you can probably let go now.”

“Sorry, honey,” Joyce said, finally pulling back. “I'm just so excited. My little girl is going to college.”

“Mom--”

“No, you're right. You're not a little girl any more. But you'll always be mine, and I'll always be proud of you.”

Buffy could feel her face start to redden over her mother's feverish attention. She stole a glance at Faith, and was both relieved and pleasantly surprised to find a small smile on her face rather than the expected smirk.

“So, what say we go get some lunch?” Joyce said. “My treat.”

Buffy oohed enthusiastically. “Present time. And they say studying is its own reward.”

Joyce gave her a sideways look before turning her attention to Faith. “You're more than welcome to join us, Faith.”

Faith in turn looked to Buffy, receiving a smile and a short nod. “Sure, Mrs. S.”

“So what are we thinking?” Joyce asked, looking between the two girls. “Something big, or is it still a bit too early in the day?”

With no real craving for anything specific, Buffy looked to Faith for an answer.

“Don't look at me,” Faith said. “You're the graduation girl.”

“OK.” Buffy didn't have to think about it long before she came up with an answer. “Then how about some ribs?”

Faith let out a short laugh. “Not gonna say no to that.”

“Ribs?” Joyce asked, looking confused. “Since when do you eat ribs?”

“Well I don't think I've ever given ribs a fair chance,” Buffy replied, her eyes not leaving Faith's. “But with graduation and college and all, if there was ever a time for new beginnings, I think this is it.”

“OK then,” Joyce said, shaking her head in bemusement, “lead the way.”

“Lead the way,” Buffy echoed, linking one arm through Faith's while the other kept a secure hold of her rolled up certificate.

“They're gonna change your world, B,” Faith assured her as she led the three of them down the walkway toward town, the trio heading away from Sunnydale High School one last time.

“You know what, I think you're probably right.”

----------

Three months later...

Water leaked from an overhanging pipe, the slow, steady plop of the droplets sinking into the puddle below echoing around the dark, dank enclosure. The pitter-patter of a rat's tiny footsteps over the cold, stone floor went unheard as it approached the massing of water. It took a single look across the room before it turned and fled, squeaking out its fear as it raced away through a small hole at the bottom of the sewer wall.

Across the cave-like area, thirteen hooded gowns hid their owners, the flickering candles that surrounded them only able to cast a sliver of light across their human faces. Two rows of six knelt on the floor, their heads bowed before a large stone tablet. A brass goblet filled almost to the brim with a deep red substance sat on top, taking centre stage, and a haphazardly placed collection of large bones decorated the rim. Above it, three people hung by their feet from a thick, taut rope. Stripped, tied and gagged, the teenagers gently swayed back and forth, helpless as their fates fast approached.

The final cultist stood behind the altar. He faced the others, looking down across them, the handle of a ragged knife clutched tightly against his palm.

As one they chanted, their voices combining into a single, low hum. “Of body. Of mind. Of soul. Forever faithful, we call upon you to cross the void.”

The knife was dipped slowly, almost delicately, into the goblet, the previously clean, silver blade quickly picking up the colour of the liquid. The prisoners could do nothing more than mumble pleas for help through their gags as they were left with the choice of closing their eyes or watching the terrifying events unfold.

“We ask of you, take us from our shackled bodies. We implore you, release our minds so that we may serve. We pray of you, lead us to the higher plane. Accept this sacrifice and come forth.”

The first throat was slit, a deep, remorseless stroke that let free a river of blood. The mumbled cries of fear got louder as two pairs of widened eyes begged to no avail. Two more cuts were made in quick succession, and the blood ran fast, flowing over the grisly altar and running down the sides to the floor. Not one of the cultists moved as the blood spread out, filling up the cracks between the stones and soaking into the materials that covered their knees.

They watched with wonder as the air shuddered and sparked; as space folded in on itself to allow small glimpses of something that lay beyond. Blue flames flitted from the source, vibrating dangerously in the air as they threatened to engulf the room. The ground shook violently, the vibrations spreading up the walls, and the bricks beneath their knees began to split, pushed apart as ground from deep below forced its way up to view the spectacle. Three quick flashes of light followed, bright enough to force the eyes of the otherwise motionless crowd to squint in pain.

Just as suddenly as it began, it came to an end. The room was left even darker than before, the candles that had managed to remain lit once again the only source of light. The leader of the group pulled down his hood, his dark fringe falling out over the front of his face. He took a single, slow step forward, a look of astonishment engraved on his face.

“You came.”

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed in her college dorm room, Buffy hummed quietly to herself as she methodically ran a file across her fingernail. With only one more day to go before she'd reached the end of her first week at college, she felt buoyed by how pleasantly uneventful it had been. There had been no dead bodies popping up on campus, no frat boys had tried to feed her to an overgrown reptile, and she hadn't heard anything about the Dean being eaten by wild animals. All in all, she couldn't have asked for a better start.

Three hard raps on the door sounded out over the quiet background music that drifted from the CD player at the other side of the room. “Come in,” she yelled, giving her nails a quick once over before her eyes lifted to the door.

The door pushed open and Faith wandered in casually, stake in hand. She took a quick glance around the room before her eyes focused on Buffy. “Hey, B. You ready for patrol?”

Buffy shot her a warning look and gave a quick shake of her head, but she couldn't do anything more before her room mate appeared from the bathroom. “Patrol?” the short-haired girl asked.

Faith moved her arms behind her back, quickly concealing the stake. “For guys,” she offered, earning herself an equally disapproving look from Buffy.

“Err, right,” Buffy agreed, for the lack of a better excuse. “Nadine, this is Faith. She's a... friend from school. Faith, this is Nadine, my room mate.”

“Hi,” Nadine said, giving Faith a small wave as she sat down on her own bed.

“What's up?” Faith asked.

“So do you two patrol together often?”

Faith failed miserably at trying to conceal a loud snort of laughter, and she turned her head to wiggle her eyebrows at Buffy.

“Not for me,” Buffy quickly interjected when she saw Faith's mouth open, and she violently shook her head. She could already feel her face beginning to flush; she was so going to kill Faith. “For her. She really loves guys.” Realizing what it might look like, Buffy discretely tossed her file down by the side of the bed.

“But you don't?” Nadine asked, her gaze switching from Faith to Buffy.

“I do,” she answered, a little too quickly for her own liking. “Just... not... patrolling for them,” she added awkwardly. “You know, we should probably get going.” She hopped to her feet, quickly slipping on the nearest pair of shoes before heading straight for Faith, determined to get them both out of there before Faith could do any more damage.

“To patrol?”

“Mm-hmm,” Buffy clarified through clenched teeth. She took Faith by the arm and dragged her to the door, giving her an intense glare along the way.

“Nice meeting you,” Faith called back over her shoulder, her words barely making it out through her mouth before Buffy pulled the door closed behind them.

----------

“That was horrible,” Buffy complained, for only the third time since they'd left her dorm room.

“Oh come on, even you have to admit it was a little funny,” Faith replied. She hadn't stopped smiling the whole way to the cemetery, her amused grin seemingly frozen in place.

“For you maybe. I have to look her in the eye every day for the next year, and she already thinks I'm a hussy.”

“But on the bright side, when you want some alone time you know she'll always knock before she enters the room.”

Buffy had to think about that for a few seconds. “Eww,” she said, once her mind had reached the same gutter she was sure Faith's constantly lived in, and she wrinkled her face in disapproval.

“Hey, you'll grow to appreciate the privacy. After a good hard slay, do you know how hard it is for me to really get myself into it when I know your mom might hear me from down the hall?”

“Oh. My. God.” Buffy stopped in her tracks and used her hands to cover her ears. She suddenly found herself questioning the decision to convince her mom to take Faith up as a tenant – and not even a paying one at that. “Please stop talking.”

She looked over to find Faith stood casually with one hand on her hip, the amused smirk plastered across her face seeming that much larger.

“There is something very, very wrong with you,” she stressed, drawing a laugh from Faith.

Buffy started moving again, and Faith followed suit, heading in the same direction only a few feet away, each of them idly scanning the distance. “Yeah, but that's why like you me, right?”

“Who says I like you?” Buffy asked slyly. “Who's to say I don't just put up with you because there's safety in numbers?” She spotted the smallest of movements over by a patch of bushes, and the gentle swaying of the branches there, despite the lack of wind, was all the confirmation she needed. “And speaking of which, we've got company. Six o'clock.”

Faith looked back over her shoulder, and Buffy realised her mistake as the vampire ahead of them charged out of the shadows and straight into Faith, sending her awkwardly flailing to the floor.

“Twelve o'clock,” Buffy corrected, far too late, and she grimaced at the heap of limbs that made up Faith's contorted body. “Sorry,” she added, her apologetic smile going unnoticed.

The vampire moved her way, and she raised her arms as she prepared to meet it.

“Gee, B, how did you ever make it to college?” Faith asked as she gingerly made her way back to her feet, giving her shoulder blade a couple of full rotations along the way.

“You had me distracted,” Buffy said in her defence, and at the same time she ducked a swing from the vampire. As she came back up she nailed it in the face with the back of her hand. Following up quickly, she spun on her front leg, the other swinging around to connect with the vampire's chest.

“Too busy thinking about me getting jiggy with my hot self?” Faith asked. The vampire stumbled toward her, and she brought its head down to meet her rising knee.

“Too busy convincing myself it would be wrong to hit you,” Buffy quipped back. “Trust me, it is not as easy as it sounds.”

Faith jabbed the vampire in the nose, and when its hands moved up to its face she drove her stake through its unprotected heart. It turned to dust in an instant, leaving behind an unimpressed looking brunette. “Well at least we found one this time,” she said, none of the implied optimism showing on her face. “What's with all the slow nights? I'm beginning to think you made this whole Hellmouth thing up to try and impress me.”

That was only the second vampire they'd come across in four nights, but it was hardly something Buffy was going to lose any sleep over. She was used to the Summer slump – putting it down to the somewhat unrealistic idea that maybe even vampires went on vacation – and even though Summer was technically over she expected it wouldn't be long before things picked up once again. “Don't complain. It's nice that it's been quiet for a change.”

“Speak for yourself. I'm warning you, if I don't get some serious action soon then our training sessions are going to get wicked intense.”

“Well, I'll tell you what – the next minion from hell that shows up? All yours.”

“Thanks, B. I always knew you cared.”

----------

A large figure leant against the bloodstained altar down in the sewers beneath Sunnydale. At close to seven feet tall he towered above the rest of the room, and his broad shoulders and bulging arms left him looking like an unmovable rock. The light from the candles danced across the front of his bald scalp. His face was plain but for the faded, ragged scar that ran down across his right cheek.

He lifted the torn remains of a disembodied arm to his mouth, his teeth tearing through the skin as he took a large chunk into his mouth. He chewed several times before his face scrunched up, a loud snort forcing its way down his nose. “Gristle and bone,” he spat, the chewed remains ejecting from his mouth. “Is that all you animals are?” The remaining twelve cultists stood close by, each of them careful to avoid the creature's eyes as he scanned the room. “You there,” he said, pointing a stubby finger at one of the larger cultists, “you look like you have some meat on you.”

“Stop.” The cultist who had performed the ritual stepped forward from the pack, the slight quivering in his voice giving away his otherwise confident demeanour. “We are here to help you.”

“Hah!” The demon snorted out a hearty laugh, his olive-green shoulders bouncing up and down beneath the brown, leather pads that formed part of his attire. “You, help me? You can't even help yourselves.”

“It's not us that you need to be worried about.”

“I am Tarroth,” he bellowed, “the greatest warrior of my people. I worry about no one.” He threw the mangled arm off to his side before taking a bold step forward, his large stride putting his broad chest in the cultist's face.

In turn the cultist took a shaky step back, though his eyes remained locked to the demon's. “There are people here who will try to stop you. The Slayers. They're strong. Fast. More than--”

“Silence,” Tarroth roared. His fingers clenched around the neck of the cultist, and he pulled him up from the floor with ease. “Enough talk.”

“Wait,” said an older, female demon. The ends of her wispy, white hair gently blew about her shoulders as she glided forward. She was far shorter than Tarroth, and void of any real muscle, the colour of her skin the only obvious resemblance they shared. She could almost be taken for frail were it not for her eyes, bold and inquisitive. “Let him go.” She spoke softly, her hypnotizing words floating suggestively through the air.

Tarroth grunted his disapproval, but dropped the young man back to his feet.

“I have heard of this Slayer,” she continued, closing in on the cultist. “Many worlds have spoken of her power. She commands fear from her enemies. Respect. That is a thing of beauty.” She placed her hand on the side of his face, her fingers tracing across his cheek. “Tell me, child, do you know who she is?”

He nodded against her hand. “There are two of them. I've seen them both. I can take you to them.”

A whisper of a smile crossed her face. “That is intriguing. Perhaps you shall be of use to us yet.”

Tarroth harrumphed. “I don't care what these Slayers are, or how many of them there are. They'll all be dead by nightfall.”

“It's already nightfall,” the cultist pointed out, shrinking back when Tarroth's nostrils flared angrily. “Though that's probably not the point,” he conceded quietly.

“As tactical as ever, I see,” said the final demon, her voice rife with amusement. “Crush, kill, destroy. It wouldn't hurt to show an ounce of strategy every once in a while.” She stepped out from her place against the wall, the dark veins that covered her body and face lighting up as she moved into range of the candles. They writhed beneath the surface of her skin, each of them moving with a life of its own.

“I'm so glad the lord chose you to come with us, Slarrine. You can amuse me with your magic tricks while I wait to feast on my enemies.” Tarroth retorted.

“Well now's as good a time as any, wouldn't you say, and my latest spell is truly one to die for.” A thin smile spread over Slarrine's face as she moved closer. “Would you like me to show it to you?” she asked idly.

“Save your energy, both of you,” the older demon interrupted. “You know why we're here. We don't have time for your petulance.” She turned her attention back to the cultist. “Come, child, we have much to discuss.” She placed her hand on his back, guiding him away from the candles and into the shadows that danced up ahead.

Once they had moved away, Tarroth loomed over the black haired demon, but she stood her ground, her gaze unblinking as she met his eyes. “You had better watch your step,” he said quietly. “Get in my way and even Nassnia won't be able to keep my sword from your chest.”

Her dark lips skewed upward, the crooked grin showing her lack of concern. “Get in my way and there won't be enough of you left to swing it.”

----------

It was a fair distance from the last cemetery to Buffy's house, and that had given Faith's mood plenty of time to deteriorate as she traipsed her way back alone, her slow pace putting off the inevitable. She slunk into her room, not bothering to turn on the light as she bee lined for the bed.

Sinking down on top of it, her head dropped down into her hands, and she slowly ran them back through her hair. Without further hesitation she reached for the top bedside drawer, and it didn't take much fumbling around in the dark before she found the handle. She pulled out the one litre bottle stored inside, and she was surprised at how light it already felt, knowing it had only been a couple of days since she'd bought it.

The highlight of her day had come and gone, and she hoped her short time spent with Buffy would be enough to anchor her through another twenty four hours. She knew all too well what came next though, the very thought of it lifting the bottle to her mouth. She took a long glug, her face scrunching up as the foul tasting liquid ran down her throat, burning a path down toward her stomach. It wasn't exactly her drink of choice, but even if it tasted like drain cleaner she reminded herself that cheap and strong was at least lax on her budget. It was a thought she knew she shouldn't have made; one that led straight to the mayor, the sole benefactor of the few funds she had left. She wondered what he would say if he found out she was pissing it all away on alcohol, and the thought brought a thin smile to her face. It couldn't stay long though, instead falling away almost immediately.

He was one of the reasons she needed to drink. One from a list that had grown far too long. Sometimes the alcohol was enough to keep them away, the faces that lived in her dreams. So many of them, each one as vivid as the last, each of them wanting nothing more than the answer to a single question: why? Why did she hurt them? Why did she kill them? Why did she let them down? Somehow her mind managed to painstakingly craft each of their features, creating mirror images of the people she'd brought suffering to.

It was something she hadn't even been able to tell Buffy about, instead keeping up the pretence that all was well. It wasn't Buffy's problem; Faith was the one who had made the choices, taken the actions, and so it was her secret to take to the grave and one that would just as likely be the thing to send her there.

She took another large mouthful of vodka before screwing the lid back on, leaving the bottle on top of the drawer for easy access. After stripping down to her underwear, leaving her clothes wherever they landed on the floor, she curled up in the centre of the bed, gripping her covers tight to her chest. Knowing that there was no other choice, she reluctantly closed her eyes, and she silently prayed that tonight her demons wouldn't come.

----------

“This isn't good,” Giles said, worry lining his voice. He chewed nervously at the frame of his glasses. “This isn't good at all.”

Buffy sat in the middle of his three seater sofa as she watched him with caution. “I'm sure it'll be OK,” she said hesitantly. Silence was the only response she received, and she licked her lips before trying again. “Maybe--”

“Blast it!” Giles said, his sudden outburst making her jump. “I should have seen it coming.”

He stood in front of the heaving bookcase that spread across much of the living room wall, one more volume still clutched in his hand. Stacks of large cardboard boxes sat off to his side, each of them filled with yet more books. His eyes scanned each row as he searched desperately for overlooked space.

“Well maybe you could sell some of them?” Buffy suggested brightly.

He turned to look at her with wide eyes as a high pitched laugh left his throat. “Sell them? Of course, why didn't I think of that? And what happens when a kettle of Lyriani demons show up on the shores?” he said, lifting his current book up so she could get a good look at it.

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't one she recognised. “Demons come in kettles?” she asked, frowning.

“Sorry citizens of Sunnydale, we can't save your lives right now, I'm afraid Mrs Johnson down at the grocers purchased that particular volume, and she's off in bloody France for the week.”

Buffy sunk back into the sofa, her arms wrapping around her body defensively. “Sorry,” she muttered sulkily.

“No, this just won't do,” Giles continued, shaking his head as he continued to pay her little attention. He took a deep breath before putting his glasses back in place. “I'm simply going to have to buy a place to store the rest of them.”

Buffy perked back up at that. “Ooh, hey, maybe we could share. The wardrobe in my dorm room just does not have the necessary shoe space a girl requires.”

Giles finally gave up on his unpacking, dropping the book back on top of one of the full boxes before moving over to join her. “What are you even doing here this early in the morning? Is there something the matter?”

“Hmm? No. Just thought I'd stop by and see how you were coping without the library. Turns out, coping is probably not the word I'd use.”

“Very droll,” he said as he took a seat opposite her, his dressing gown bunching up as he did so. “And thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine, just a-as soon as the transitional period is over.”

“It's already been three months, Giles. It is definitely time to move on. I mean there are hundreds of careers out there just waiting for you. Like...” She mulled the possibilities over, trying to find one that was a fit for Giles' unique credentials, and he crossed his arms as he stared at her with an empty expression on his face. “Well the college has a library,” she finished enthusiastically.

He continued to stare at her in silence before getting to his feet. “You can let yourself out,” he said dryly before starting to make his way upstairs.

“So you'll think about it?” she called out after him.

----------

“Hello?” the young cultist leader asked loudly as he stepped into the derelict room of a barely lit building, the blinds of the single window keeping out most of the sun's rays. He took a few more steps forward before a sudden movement caught his eye, and he turned to face the shadowy figure stood in the doorway to the next room.

“Is it taken care of?” the man asked.

“It worked, just like you said it would,” the cultist replied. “But they weren't what we expected. They killed one of the guys. They tore him apart, a-and...” He looked like he was going to throw up, more than just a touch of green colouring his face. “And they ate him. They're barbaric.”

“Yes, so I'd heard.” Frown lines formed on the cultist's forehead. “Still, I didn't want to worry you with speculation,” the man added absently, his disinterest clear. “I assume you found time to mention the Slayers?”

The cultist took a moment to recover before he nodded. “They'd heard of them before. They said that they can take care of them.”

“Good.” The man smiled to himself. “I do so love it when a plan comes to fruition.”

“So when do we get paid?” the cultist asked eagerly.

“Oh, but surely the arrival of your Gods is payment enough?” the man replied, making no attempt to hide his dry sarcasm.

“You said--”

“You'll get your money when the job is done,” he interrupted. “For now, I need you to keep a close watch on Buffy Summers. That girl has a penchant for ruining my fun, but not this time. No, this time the games are over. Now she's going to find out the true meaning of chaos.”

“No one put you in charge, so why should you get the first shot?” Tarroth inquired with no small amount of fuss.

The three demons were alone down in the sewers, the group of cultists nowhere to be seen. A number of burning candles had been affixed to the walls, one pair of them casting light down over a variety of mutilated demon remains.

“Beauty always goes first,” Nassnia replied calmly.

Tarroth's undignified snort made his thoughts on the matter clear. “There's nothing more beautiful than my blade.”

“And there's nothing more foolhardy than your mouth,” Slarrine shot at him, not bothering to rise from her seated position against the nearby wall.

His eyes narrowed, his beefy hand moving to rest on the hilt of the weapon fixed by his side. “You had better watch yours, witch, or I'll have your tongue on my mantle.”

Slarrine's eyes flashed, and electricity crackled as it danced across her slender, stretched out fingers.

“Enough,” Nassnia interrupted. “This isn't a game. Nothing can be allowed to interrupt our work here. You know the price we will all face for failure. No, I will take care of the Slayers discretely.”

“You have a plan?” Slarrine asked, her eyes finally leaving Tarroth as she regarded the other female demon with interest.

“They are known to be strong in body, but much like all animals their minds will be weak. Susceptible to their fears, to the darkest thoughts that they fight so hard to keep locked away. Once I open up the path, they won't be able to ignore them. Even the smallest of ideas can thrive and grow until nothing else matters. Intoxicating. Unrelenting. And then – then they will tear each other apart.”

Her words were enough to sate even Tarroth, a grin stretching out his face as he gleefully nodded his silent agreement.

----------

Buffy parried Faith's right hook, and her counter effort was blocked in turn. She jumped back, narrowly avoiding Faith's outstretched leg as it kicked out at her stomach. They circled one another, their feet barely landing on the ground before they were moving again, both of them watching carefully as they waited for the other to drop their guard.

“That the best you got?” Faith challenged, one corner of her mouth turning up. She feigned a lunge forward, pulling back before Buffy's roundhouse kick could connect.

Buffy didn't feign anything; she leapt forward, the toe of her shoe catching Faith right in the kidney. Faith barely flinched, her right hand circling around to connect with Buffy's face. She tried to follow up with her left hand, but Buffy reacted fast to catch it mid-flight, twisting it around with both hands until she had it locked behind Faith's back.

“Better?” she countered, her head peering over Faith's shoulder.

Faith threw her head out, catching Buffy by surprise. A jolt of pain shot across the side of her head, and her grip on Faith's arm loosened as she tried to shake off the hit. Faith reached behind with her free arm, wrapping it tightly around the back of Buffy's head. She pulled as she bent forward, and Buffy flipped straight over her back in one smooth motion.

Down just as quick, Faith straddled Buffy and used her size advantage to keep the girl's arms pinned up above her head. Buffy tilted her body left, then right, but she was unable to shake Faith off. “Give it up, B. You lose.”

“Not today, Faith.” Buffy pressed her foot up into Faith's midsection, then rolled herself back as she pushed her leg out hard. Faith went flying up and over Buffy's head, leaving the safety of the thick, blue mats altogether. Buffy continued to roll through, coming to her feet just as Faith landed back first on the hard gym floor with a painful thud.

Faith grunted in pain, and the swoosh of air that left her lungs was enough to make Buffy cringe. “Sorry?” she said tentatively.

Faith gingerly made her way to her feet, her hand rubbing at the small of her back. “Oh you are so going to get it now,” she said as she started to close in once more.

“Whoa, time out!” Buffy said quickly, taking a step away and forming a T shape with her hands.

Faith came to a standstill, her look lost somewhere between disappointment and disbelief. Strands of her dark hair flung from side to side as she shook her head. “No way. Since when do we have time outs?”

“Since my Psych 101 class starts soon and I'm not going anywhere without taking a shower first.” She was still breathing hard as she looked down at the dark patches on her white vest top. “I smell like I haven't washed in a week.”

“Well I didn't want to be the one to say anything...”

Buffy picked up the bag containing Faith's clothes and threw it at the girl's stomach, but Faith only needed one hand to intercept it with ease. “Come on,” Faith complained, “you can't leave me hanging. Things were just starting to get good.”

“You know, if you're itching for a fight you can always go train some with Giles.” She gave Faith a sweet smile. “Then maybe I won't always kick your ass so much.”

“As if. I just went easy on you because you looked all coy and helpless.” She swung the backpack over one shoulder. “Besides, I'm sure Giles has more important things to do than spend time training me.”

“Trust me, he is definitely not too busy. The other day I caught him watching some old videotapes of--”

“Porn?” Faith cut in.

“No, thankfully not,” Buffy said, looking at the other girl disapprovingly. She shook her head, trying to wipe the very idea from existence, and it took her a moment to regain her train of thought. “Some British game show where they had to make words from a bunch of random letters. Then in the math round, when the presenter was a number out he started shouting at the TV that she's a bloody pillock. The man needs a hobby. Stat.”

Faith laughed, but it didn't sound all that convincing. “Well, maybe. I'll see. I have some other stuff to take care of as well.”

“Like what?” Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow sceptically. “In fact, what do you even do all day? Maybe Giles isn't the only one who needs a hobby.”

Faith pulled her stake out from behind her back and waved it in front of her. “Already got one, B.”

“Not really much of a daytime activity though.” Buffy paused before her eyebrows narrowed suspiciously. “Hey, wait a minute. Why did you have that thing there when we were training?”

Faith gave a lazy shrug and grinned. “Just in case you got out of hand.”

Buffy couldn't help but grin back as she shook her head at Faith's antics. “Well I really do need to head,” she said, taking a step back, “but I'll see you tonight for patrol?”

“Sure thing.”

“OK then.” Buffy gave Faith a final smile before turning and making her way out of the college gym.

----------

Almost back to Buffy's house, Faith decided she needed to do something about the feeling in her gut. She'd been unable to shake it for a couple of blocks and it only continued to grow stronger. It was a feeling she'd come to rely upon often; one that let her know when there was danger lurking nearby. With the sun well up into the sky she didn't expect to be jumped by a gang of bloodsuckers, but she knew demons didn't need to stick to the same office hours.

She slowed her pace just a little, aiming to let her pursuer catch up without being too obvious about it, and she waited for the presence to close in. It didn't take long before soft footsteps approached from behind. Spinning around at the last possible moment, her hand shot out, and she easily pinned the assailant to the nearby tree by his neck. “Just try it, punk,” she dared him.

He stood perfectly still, his wide, circular eyes and dropped jaw helping to paint the picture of pure horror on his face. Faith's brow furrowed, and her eyes drifted down to find the bag of overflowing newspapers that hung by his side. “You're delivering papers?” she said, mostly to herself.

The young teenager tried to respond, managing nothing more than a series of unintelligible noises, and Faith quickly pulled her hand back. He bent over as he practically coughed his lungs out, his hand reluctantly dabbing at the skin of his reddened throat.

“Right,” Faith said, taking a step back and shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. Good luck with that.” Before he had time to recover, she was already moving again, her pace quickening as she looked to make a hasty getaway. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, refusing to pay any more heed to the niggling that continued at the back of her mind.

Almost moving at a slow jog, it took no time at all before she arrived to an empty house. After stopping just long enough to dump her bag inside her room, she continued straight for the bathroom, a cold shower her number one priority.

Despite what she'd told Buffy, she had no real plans for the day, but begging Giles to train with her featured pretty damn low on her list of life goals. The only real interaction she'd had with him in months had come when Buffy had been visiting her father for a week over Summer and some prophetic demon duo had gotten his panties in a twist. Faith had dutifully stepped in to save the day – if only because she'd promised Buffy she'd cover for her – and since then she'd heard nothing. The other Scoobies weren't much different, but it didn't really matter; she'd stuck around Sunnydale for exactly one person, and it sure as hell wasn't a middle-aged ex-librarian.

Shower then power nap, she decided as she began peeling off her sticky clothes. The training with Buffy had gotten pretty intense, and now it seemed to be catching up with her. Suddenly feeling borderline exhausted, she figured that any potential productivity could hold on for at least a few more hours.

----------

“Wow, she's really something, isn't she?”

“What?” Buffy asked, confusion growing on her face as she turned to lay eyes on the boy sat next to her. “Who?”

“Professor Walsh,” he replied. “Very intense.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Buffy said non-committally. All around them, people were getting up and beginning to make their way from the hall, and only then did she realize the lecture was actually over. Of course she had no intention of admitting that she'd started to zone out just a little. “I mean absolutely. That bit about the... psychology... just, wow.” She widened her eyes in an attempt to demonstrate her faux-amazement.

He let out a small laugh. “I'm sure it'll grow on you. It can be a bit slow to start with. I'm Jacob, by the way,” he said, before standing up and sticking out his hand. “Reynolds.”

Buffy stood to shake his hand, paying him her full attention for the first time. He stood only a couple of inches taller than her, with a frame not much larger either, and curly, dark brown hair hung down almost to eyes of the same colour. “Buffy Summers.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He motioned for her to go first, then followed behind as they joined the herd heading for the door. “So, Buffy Summers, how was your first week at college?”

“Surprisingly quiet, actually,” she said chipperly.

“You mean in those short times between the near constant stream of partying?”

It wasn't quite what she'd been referring to, her thoughts reserved for the more supernatural element of her life, though in truth her night life had been somewhat tame in all areas as of late; ever since her and Angel had had the talk. The one that descended into shouting, moved on to crying, and then finally ended when they both reached the conclusion they had already known – they could never be together. Angel had told her it would be easier for both of them if he left town. And then just like that he disappeared to Los Angeles.

The following few weeks remained somewhat of a blur. She did remember the heartbreak though, and then the heartache that naturally followed. Keeping to herself in her room, she spent most of her time switching between moping and crying. With school finished and college yet to begin, there had been little to distract her from the pain. Things hadn't started to look up until Faith had all but dragged her from her room, sometimes for Slaying, and sometimes not. She had even been convinced to see unknown rock bands in gloomy rooms, and the loud, often angry noises had verged on therapeutic. At times, the distractions Faith offered seemed to be the only thing that had kept her from falling apart.

She considered just how fast he'd run away if she unloaded all of that on him, and it brought a small smile to her face. “I'm kinda working my way up to that,” she said instead. “Didn't want to exhaust all my energy in the first week.”

“Aah, very wise, though perhaps a little tricky if you're staying in halls.”

“Stevenson,” she confirmed, “and yeah, I've noticed those people aren't afraid to get a little rowdy. You?”

“Off campus.” Buffy looked back over her shoulder to raise a questioning eyebrow. “Late admission,” he clarified. “I still live pretty close though, so it's not so bad.”

As the students spilled out into the hallway, Buffy and Jacob came to a stop. “Well I've got another class to get to,” she said, pointing down the hallway with her thumb. “But maybe I'll see you around?”

She gave him a small smile and he returned the gesture. “Maybe you will.”

----------

Faith stood staring at the body of Alan Finch as it lay slumped down against the wall of a dingy alleyway, his chin drooped against his chest, a thin trail of blood leaking from one side of his parted mouth. The muscles in her fingers loosened up, and as her fist unclenched, the knife escaped from her hand. She didn't react, barely noticing as it clanged loudly against the floor.

“Faith.”

She turned around. She already knew exactly who had called out her name, but that couldn't stop her horror from escalating when she found herself looking into the widened, blue eyes.

“What have you done?” It may have been phrased like a question, but it was nothing more than a thinly veiled accusation, and one that made Faith visibly flinch.

“It – it was an accident.” Faith looked from Finch to Buffy, and then took a step back, trying to distance herself from the look of disgust forming on Buffy's face.

“Was it?” Buffy stepped forward, instantly closing the gap again. “Admit it, Faith: you enjoyed it. It opened your eyes. It showed you who you really are. A cold-blooded killer.”

“No.” Faith shook her head weakly, the energy leaking out from her body, her face turning pale as it dragged the colour with it.

Buffy took another step forward, and Faith stumbled over the curb as she tried to retreat, falling back onto the rough gravel pavement. She put her hand out behind her as she tried to pull herself away, and the skin on the palm of her hand ripped open against the serrated edge of a discarded tin can.

“I have to do this. You know I can't let you hurt anyone else.” Buffy's voice came out cold and hard, free from any emotion. Her knees bent, lowering her body to the ground. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the dropped knife, and Faith found her eyes locked to it. She recognised it instantly – the curved handle, the split blade; how could she ever forget? She couldn't look away, her frightened gaze following it back up as Buffy rose.

“I won't,” Faith promised. “I swear.”

Buffy flicked her wrist, giving the knife a single, sinister twirl. “You'll never stop. You can't. This is what you'll always do; who you'll always be.” Another deliberately slow step forward, and then she was in striking range.

Faith couldn't move. Her legs wouldn't respond, even as she silently pleaded with them to take her away. Doing the only thing she could to defend herself, she put her hand out in front of her face, ignoring the trickle of blood that ran from her palm down across her wrist. It did her no good though; Buffy aimed lower, and Faith's ribcage could offer little protection from the thrust of a Slayer. The silver blade slid smoothly into her chest while she could do nothing more than look up into Buffy's hollow eyes.

----------

Faith sat up on top of her bed, her breathing fast and harsh, sweat rolling down from the top of her head. She wiped her hand across her forehead, soaking up the moisture, before holding it on the side of her flushed face. She stayed rooted in place, the only movement coming from her shaky arms, and she spent what little energy she had left holding back the urge to cry.

She expected the nightmares. She expected Finch and the mayor and her watcher. She even expected Xander and Angel. But it had been a long time since Buffy had appeared in her nightmares, her presence usually reserved for Faith's better dreams. Even back then, back when her and Buffy had been on opposing sides, the images had never felt so visceral. So damning.

Unable to shake the look on Buffy's face, Faith could do nothing more than sit there, staring blankly at the wall in front of her bed. She barely registered the knock at the door, only coming back to life when she heard Buffy's voice.

“Faith? Are you in there?”

Her eyes twitched nervously, and she glanced around the room for an exit before she managed to process the situation. It wasn't real, she told herself. It was only a dream. It didn't mean anything.

“Faith?” Buffy called out again, and the knocks that followed were louder.

“Yeah, just a minute,” Faith managed to get out, and she could hear the tremors in her own quiet voice. Slipping off the side of the bed, her knees buckled as she tried to stand up, and her hand shot down to the bed, steadying herself until her legs could support themselves. Realizing then just how dark it was, she turned on the beside lamp, casting the room in a dim, orange glow. Her eyes landed on the glass pane of the window, the curtains still drawn back, and she realized it was already nightfall. She took a long, loose-fitting shirt from a drawer and pulled it over her head before moving to the door. Opening it just a crack, she found Buffy stood on the other side, her worried features a polar opposite to the uncaring face in her dream. “Hey,” Faith said, hoping she sounded as casual as she'd tried to be. “What's up?”

“Hey. Are you OK?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” Faith replied, forcing a smile to her face.

“You didn't show for patrol. I was worried.”

“Oh. Right.” Faith couldn't believe she'd slept through the entire day, and worse still, she felt far more tired than she had done that morning. Too tired to think up a convincing excuse on such short notice. “Sorry, I didn't realize what time it was.”

Buffy watched Faith carefully, her eyes probing for answers. Faith could see it clearly, the way Buffy searched for deceit, already expecting it, and Faith spent the short silence trying to act natural.

“Are you sure everything's OK?”

Faith mentally scolded herself when she realized the absurdity of the thoughts running through her head. She figured she had yet to fully awaken. That her thoughts were still concerned with her nightmare world. Buffy wasn't there to spy on her – they were friends; she was showing concern.

“Faith?”

She looked at Buffy, unsure of what she should be saying. It took a few seconds before she remembered the question. “I'm just tired. Long day, and I didn't get much sleep last night.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Faith said instantly, shaking her head. Buffy's eyebrows pinched together. “Thanks,” she added when Buffy tried to speak up. “Just need to get some rest.” More silence followed, and Faith found her feet starting to fidget.

“OK. Well I'll swing by tomorrow.” Buffy lingered for another moment, and Faith fought the urge to look away. Her hand tightened around the the door handle as she tried to keep herself still. “Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Buffy started to turn away, and Faith didn't need any more of an opening. She shut the door, her hand staying firmly clasped around the handle to make sure it stayed that way. Leaning forward, her forehead rested against the wood as she closed her eyes, and she felt a twinge of relief as she heard Buffy's footsteps receding down the stairs.

“What the hell is wrong with me,” she muttered.

----------

“Not that I'm complaining, but what are you still doing here?” Joyce asked. “Don't you have class in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said absently as she followed her mother through into the kitchen. She watched while her mom, already in her dressing gown and ready for bed, poured herself a glass of water. “It's no biggie though. I can get back in time in the morning.”

“You're staying the night?”

“Sure. I mean that's OK, right?”

“Of course, sweety. I already had your bed made up for you, just in case you stopped by. Let me just go get you some clean towels and then you're good to go.”

“Thanks.”

As her mom headed for the hallway, Buffy quickly fell into line behind her, trailing her as she moved through the hallway and up the stairs to the linen closet. Her mom looked back over her shoulder, watching her with a small amount of concern. “Is everything going well at college?”

“Absolutely,” Buffy replied brightly, making sure to put some extra pep behind it.

College wasn't the issue; no, the problem lingered much closer to home. Faith was up to something. She could feel it, and she had a pretty good idea what. The girl had weaselled her way into Buffy's home, and why would she do that if not to get to her mother? It made perfect sense; all part of an elaborate plan set up by the mayor. And she'd fallen for it. Her fists clenched shut at the very thought, the anger beginning to stir up inside her. She wouldn't let it happen though. When Faith made her move, she'd be ready; and she'd make sure Faith would never hurt anyone again.

Faith's eyes shot open. The sound of her pounding heart quickly filled her ears. She reached out with a shaky arm, her hand hitting wide of its target and sending the bottle of vodka off the bedside stand to the floor. "Shit," she murmured as she forced herself up to a sitting position. Peering over the edge of the bed, she found the carpet had at least kept the bottle in one piece. She swivelled herself around as she pulled back the sheets, and she let her legs dangle down to the floor. Her head throbbed painfully at one side as if Buffy's fists continued to drill into her, and she scrunched up her face against every pulse.

They were getting out of control. Three nightmares in a row. Each time she awoke she told herself there couldn't possibly be another one, and yet still another came, each of them worse than the previous, and each one special guest starring an out-for-blood Buffy Summers. Blackness filled the room, the relief that only morning could bring still much too far away, but she knew she couldn't stomach a fourth. She reached out to turn on the lamp and groaned her disapproval as the bright light inflicted further misery upon her head.

It took about all she had just to drag herself to her feet, and then she gingerly made her way across the room, every shaky step doing nothing to soothe her migraine. An oval mirror hung atop of a large chest of drawers, and as she looked into it she found dark bags hung below her barely open eyes. Worse still, the colour of her skin closely resembled that of a long-lived vampire, and she wasn't thrilled that the unattractive combination made her look like a zombie from some 80's black and white horror flick.

Deciding that some night air couldn't possibly make her feel any worse, she pulled out a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans from the top drawer and quickly slipped them on. She didn't make it as far as her jacket, instead finding herself rooted in place the second she turned from the mirror. Her fingers pressed against the wood as she tightly gripped the edge of the drawers behind her. "B?" She blinked her eyes several times, expecting the image in front of her to disappear, but the cold eyes wouldn't go away, and they continued to glare at her from beneath the blonde mane.

"You thought you could escape me. You thought you could get away with the things you've done."

Faith rubbed at her eyes, trying desperately to wake herself up from her hell. "No. This can't be real. You're not real."

"Is that what you told yourself when you killed Finch? When you tried to turn Angel? When you wanted to torture me? Does that make you feel better about yourself, Faith?"

Faith's head weakly moved from side to side. An intense shiver froze the blood in her arms, raising goosebumps up from her skin. "No, I didn't – I never wanted to..." Buffy's accusations continued to echo around inside her head, closing in from all directions, and she couldn't think, couldn't get out the words she needed to say.

"Shall we see how you like torture?" Buffy reached behind her back, her hand reappearing with a long kitchen knife in her hand. Slowly the blade ran across her palm, lightly enough to avoid drawing any blood. She held up the knife, slowly running the side of the blade past her face. Her eyes closed as she breathed in deeply through her nose, opening again only as a loud exhale demonstrated her satisfaction.

"No," Faith uttered again. "Buffy, please."

Buffy took a step forward, and Faith reached behind her, blindly grasping for anything that could help her. Her fingers wrapped around a small, solid object, and she took a quick look at it before throwing it forward hard. Buffy easily ducked the fast moving projectile – a grey elephant statue that wore an inappropriately cheerful smile on its face – and the ornament sailed harmlessly overhead before it noisily shattered into pieces against the far wall, leaving nothing more than a mound of pottery strewn across the floor.

Faith turned back to the drawer, and her fingers raked their way through her clothes, hurriedly pulling and pushing them out the way until she found the object kept hidden below. She took a deep breath to steady herself before grabbing it, and then she turned back to Buffy, holding the dagger out in front of her.

----------

Buffy lay patiently on top of her bed, waiting, in the very same spot she'd taken up since bidding good night to her mother two hours earlier. She kept her eyes wandering across the swirls that patterned the ceiling, not willing to risk falling asleep until she put an end to it – until she knew her mom would be safe again. The fingers on one hand drummed methodically against the mattress, the slow, simple beat almost loud enough to block out the incessant ticking of the nearby clock. The waiting game. For over three years she'd played it on a near nightly basis, but never before had time crawled by so excruciatingly slow. Of course, never before had the stakes been so high, nor the enemy so dangerous.

A loud smash from down the hallway instantly shot adrenaline through her body, and her fingertips tingled as blood pushed its way to her extremities. Faith was making her move. Still dressed, Buffy sprang to her feet and quickly headed out into the hallway. Somehow her mother had beaten her there, and she stood knocking on Faith's door, completely unaware of the danger lurking on the other side. Buffy grabbed her by the arm and firmly yanked her back to safety before she could complain. It had been in the nick of time; the door flew open almost immediately afterward, and Faith charged out from the room, running straight for the stairs.

"Buffy, what's going on?" Joyce asked in alarm, her voice sounding far more awake then her glazed over eyes looked.

"Don't worry, I know what to do."

Wasting no time, Buffy headed straight back to her room, the sound of her mom's slippers sliding across the carpet lagging behind her. She pulled open the wardrobe and dropped to her knees before beginning to rifle through an old, worn bag. Most of her supplies were at college, but she still had some reserves lying around, and it wouldn't take long to find what she needed. Numerous stakes and bottles of holy water were pushed out of the way with urgency, some of them spilling out of the bag on to the floor, before her hand finally wrapped around the crossbow. It may not have been as big or sturdy as the one she kept in her dorm room, but as she loaded it with a single iron-tipped bolt she knew that one well placed shot would still be enough.

"What's that for?" Joyce asked, the pitch of her voice not getting any lower.

"I'll take care of her," Buffy promised with nothing but sincerity. "You'll be safe again." She'd make sure of that. She strode past her mother and rushed her way down the stairs.

"Buffy, stop!" her mother shouted after her as she tried to keep up. "You're not making any sense."

The front door already stood wide open when Buffy took a quick look back, and she found her mother had only made it down the first few stairs. She didn't have time to wait, or to explain; she couldn't let Faith get away. Not this time. She stepped out into the light rain that drizzled harmlessly down from the grey clouds above, her eyes methodically scanning through the darkness as she made her way down the driveway. The rows of street lights running up and down each side of the road offered just enough illumination to make out the surroundings in the distance, and she caught a brief glimpse of movement farther down the road. Without another thought she broke into a sprint, darting up the road as she chased her prey.

----------

Faith didn't stop running until she found herself stood in the middle of the closest cemetery, unsure of what to do or where to go next. She didn't even know what had driven her there in the first place, never having stopped long enough to think up a destination.

She tried to plan, to prepare, but the voices inside her head drowned out every thought she tried to scramble together. Diana and Finch had joined Buffy, the three of them nestled all snug inside her mind. They made it impossible to focus on anything, even for just a few seconds. Somehow they'd escaped, followed her back from her dreams, and they shouted over one another to make themselves heard. They asked the same questions she asked herself daily, demanding answers she could never hope to find.

"Stop it," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips against the sides of her bobbing forehead. "Please, just – just stop." It didn't matter that the rain had continued to get heavier, nor that she began to shiver as her cold, damp clothes clung tight against her skin. Right then she only needed some peace and quiet. A reprieve.

"Faith."

She tensed up as a chill crept down her spine, and it felt like cold fingernails had scraped against the inside of her skin. Slowly, inch by inch, she managed to force herself around. Her fingers fell down the sides of her face as her arms dropped to her sides. "Buffy," she said, barely hearing the sound of her own hushed voice. "I'm sorry."

"This ends now," Buffy said slowly, her voice a menacing growl.

Faith pulled her dagger out from her waistband and held it up between them. "Stop. I won't let you do this," Faith threatened. Unperturbed, Buffy took a step closer. Faith tried to hold her arm steady, but it shook wildly, her knife jittering from point to point.

The crossbow raised and fired without warning, Buffy's vacant expression unchanging as the bolt flew through the air. It didn't have far to travel, but Faith spun her body around instinctively and the projectile grazed past her side, only catching her enough to rip a hole through her t-shirt and remove the top layer of skin. She let out a muted groan, more from the shock of the cold steel against her body than from any real pain, and she was left with no time to properly inspect the damage before Buffy began closing in.

Buffy threw her bow to the floor as she marched forward. Faith shot to life the second she stepped into range, her quick, clenched fist flying straight into Buffy's head. A look of surprise crossed her face as the blow landed hard, and Faith didn't wait to take full advantage. Following up quickly, she kicked out, her foot coming up under Buffy's chin and lifting her head back.

Buffy took a step back to try and recover, but Faith moved quickly to close the gap. She swung her other arm around, but it never made it to its target, holding in place the moment Faith's gaze caught sight of the forgotten knife that sat clutched in her hand. The tip hovered at the side of Buffy's exposed face, no more than an inch away from plunging through soft skin. She swallowed hard as she tried to muster together enough concentration to make a decision.

The hesitation gave Buffy all the opening she needed, and she had plenty of time to aim low, her outstretched leg sweeping around to connect at the back of Faith's ankles. Faith was taken right off her feet, and Buffy wasted no time before bringing her heel down hard. Faith managed to roll herself to safety across the quickly muddying ground, leaving the heel of Buffy's black boot to press into the grass just wide of her face.

As she began to rise she received two quick blows to her cheek before she managed to reach out and shove Buffy away with both hands. From her crouched position she leapt forward into the air, her legs wrapping around Buffy's waist and squeezing tight. Buffy staggered back as she tried to stay upright, and Faith clenched her leg muscles hard, each of them threatening to shatter bones as they constricted.

Buffy stumbled farther, looking ready to tip over at any point until her back pressed against a tree. It provided enough support for her to regain her footing, and she threw herself forward and down, using the momentum to viciously drive Faith's back into the soil. Faith grunted on impact, her back arching up and her knife spinning out from her grasp. She responded by bringing her head up into Buffy's, not once, but twice, before a harsh first knocked her flat to the floor.

Buffy's fist flew into her face time and time again, each blow stinging her cheek and spinning her head to the side. Faith felt the skin split open, her face unable to cope with the flurry of attacks. She felt the blood begin to creep to the surface and ooze out from the fresh wound. Buffy stopped the assault only as her arm stretched out for the nearby knife, and Faith gritted her teeth, forcing herself to block out the pain. Her knee shot up quickly, pressing hard into Buffy's unguarded stomach, and even through the racket of the voices in her head she couldn't miss the sound of the air swooshing from Buffy's lungs. Buffy doubled over, both hands clutching her stomach, and Faith pushed her off to the side before trying to create some distance between them, her nails digging deep into the wet soil as she clawed herself along the ground.

Her grip found its way around the top of a gravestone and her hands played their part in helping her get back on her feet. Leaning her weight against the stone, she scrunched up her face, hoping to push out the dizziness that threatened to topple her right back to the ground. The back of her hand wiped away the blood that trickled out from her nose. Sensing danger, she spun around to find Buffy heading her way once more, and the sudden movement did her head no favours. She had no time to focus on that though; Buffy stalked toward her, knife in hand, her eyes narrowed and predatory. She moved slowly and methodically, her earlier arrogance replaced with caution. Her knees stayed slightly bent, keeping her body low and ready to pounce.

Faith moved around the gravestone, taking several small steps back. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I won't hurt anyone again, I swear. You don't need to do this." Buffy kept coming, offering no response to Faith's pleas, her eyes hard and determined. Faith could do nothing about her constant shivering, her expended energy leaving her with little to withstand the early preview of the worst Winter had to offer. She shook her head, trying once more to make her case heard. "It's different now. I'm not that person anymore. I'm not."

Buffy swung the knife around, and even as Faith took another step back the tip of the blade cut just below her ear, spraying a thin line of blood across her face. The knife came back the other way, and Faith used both hands to stop the attack in its tracks. Buffy punched out with her free hand, relentlessly ramming it into the side of Faith's head with enough force to spin her around. A hard knee followed, landing right into the spine of her back and sending her down onto her hands and knees. She reached around to try and offer some comfort to her back only to find Buffy's boot drill straight into her midsection, lifting her from the ground and flipping her over.

Down on her back, Faith lay still, her breathing fast and harsh as she looked up into the night sky. Black clouds kept the moon hidden from sight, and only a small spattering of stars had managed to find a place to peek out. The rain had harshened considerably, now more closely resembling hail, and the heavy, unforgiving drops pelted ruthlessly against her face. Her eyes squinted as it came down hard and fast, but the cold water still felt refreshing against the aching that worked its way through her body and face.

She made no attempt to escape as Buffy knelt down over her, the imposing figure of the smaller girl blocking off the worst of the rain, and she offered no resistance as Buffy's hand pinned her neck tight against the wet grass. She had nothing left to give; if she couldn't convince Buffy to stop then she had nothing left to fight for. "I'm so sorry," she whispered one last time before letting her eyes close shut, her arms remaining loose by her sides.

Despite the finality of it, all she felt her breathing begin to steady. The inside of her head had quietened, the voices no longer working to tear her apart, each of them seemingly content that they had done their job. The silence helped her to stay calm as she patiently awaited the final strike. She had always known that one day she would pay for her actions. It hurt that Buffy would be the one to deliver the sentence, but in a way it would have felt wrong were it anyone else. Buffy had been the one she'd lashed out at the most, the main target of her anger and frustration, and she knew nobody deserved vengeance more than her.

Trying not to think, or to feel, Faith simply waited. And waited. But nothing came. The hand that wrapped around her neck had not budged an inch, but there had been no surging pain. No knife in her gut. Faith's eyes slowly crept open, and she found Buffy still knelt in place, her hand raised back with the blade of the knife turned down toward her readied victim. Her knuckles were red, her death grip around the handle causing her hand to judder. Water ran down her already soaked hair, soft, harmless droplets falling from the ends onto Faith's face.

Buffy's eyebrows pinched together, and her teeth clenched behind her parted lips. She stayed frozen in position for just one more moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her brow, and then as her hand slid from Faith's throat the knife came down fast, embedding itself right up to the hilt in six inches of soil, barely wide of Faith's exposed neck. Her hand remained on the grip, her entire arm starting to shake as she continued to bury it deeper into the earth.

A small, thin object pierced into the side of her upper arm, and her eyes moved to it immediately. She stared at it for only a matter of seconds before her body went slack, her brow shaped in confusion, and she slumped down on top of Faith, her limp neck hanging her head over the top of Faith's shoulder.

Faith looked at Buffy's still, peaceful face, watching with a confusion of her own for several silent moments before her eyes roamed to the other side. A figure stood nearby, partially hidden behind the curtain of heavy rain. His gun was still raised toward them as he looked down the sight, but as she squinted she could make out just enough of his face to identify him. "Giles?" she said, her worn voice barely able to get out the sound. She felt a sharp sting and looked down to find a dart lodged in the back of her shoulder. With Buffy draped over her other arm she couldn't easily free herself to remove the small projectile. Instead she settled for looking back at Giles, watching as he began to dissolve in front of her eyes. It didn't take long before her entire vision became one giant blur, background and foreground melding seamlessly together. She let her tired body relax as her head fell back against the floor, her eyelids slowly slipping shut.

----------

"Where am I?" Buffy murmured, her eyes blinking open. As her vision started to fall into place the first things she could fully make out were the stationary figures of Willow and Oz, the pair of them stood a short distance away, and as the haze lifted further she recognised Giles' apartment. After trying to stand up she also found herself tied to a chair, her arms held down by her sides. "What's going on?"

"Are you OK?" Willow asked, her brow furrowing soon after. "And, well, you again?"

Buffy looked at her questioningly, and only then did the memories come flooding back to her, each and every detail flashing through her head. Her stomach lurched forward even while the rest of her body remained trapped in place. "Oh God. Faith." Instantly forgetting her current situation, she hurriedly tried to get to her feet, and once again she made it nowhere.

"Don't worry, she's alright," Willow assured her, a held out palm motioning her to calm down. "Giles and Xander are with her now."

"Good," Buffy said, though her voice felt weak and the small slither of relief was far from enough to make her feel any less ill. She looked around in both directions, expecting to see Faith in a similar position but finding nothing. "Wait, with her where?"

Willow's eyes slid over to look at Oz, her mouth forming a glum frown.

"Guys?" Buffy asked as she looked between them, her impatience spearheaded by worry.

"They're at the hospital," Oz said.

Buffy's eyes widened, and she could barely keep herself from gagging.

"But she's going to be OK," Willow added hurriedly. "It was just a precaution."

That didn't make her feel any better. "I need to see her," she said firmly. "Now."

Willow's eyes nervously flicked to Oz and back. "Maybe we should wait a while. I did a cleansing spell on you while you were out, a-and Giles has done the same for Faith, but-"

Buffy tried to force herself free from the constraints, but the arms of the chair were sturdier than expected. "Willow, please," she said, her eyes desperately begging as they looked up at Willow's worried face. She couldn't shake the thought of what she'd done from her head. Of what she'd come so close to doing. Faith was never going to trust her again. Faith was probably never going to look at her again.

After another exchange of glances between Willow and Oz, the two of them reached a silent agreement. They took one arm each as they began to untie the ropes that held Buffy still. As soon as they were loose, Buffy easily pulled away the remaining rope from her stomach and legs, freeing herself to stand. She didn't waste any time, instantly heading for the front door.

"Want us to come with?" Willow asked, the worry in her voice holding in place.

"No. Stay here," Buffy replied without turning around. Her hand clenched tight around the handle on the front door. "Find me something to kill." She pulled back the door to reveal the ongoing downpour, and an angry wind howled its greeting. Without hesitation she stepped out into the growing storm.

Faith stretched her neck back and let out a disgruntled groan as she slowly returned to consciousness. Her eyes squinted against the bright light that hung overhead as her hand moved up to her numb face. Pressing her fingers against the skin, she felt nothing more than a slight fuzzy sensation. She squeezed her fingers shut, trying to stop the irritating tingling that buzzed around on them. "What the hell," she muttered.

"I'm sorry about that."

She looked to her side, forcing her eyes open fully to find Giles sat by her bed. A vague memory popped into her head: the image of Giles taking her out with a tranquillizer dart. "Don't sweat it," she said groggily, one word slurring into the next. "That's the best sleep I've had in a long while." She noticed the array of hospital apparatus placed at Giles' side. "Wait, am I in-" She stopped her question mid-sentence as the blanks finished filling themselves in. "Buffy," she said quietly, remembering the earlier fight in vivid detail.

"She's OK. Willow called just a few minutes ago. Buffy's on her way here now." Faith's eyes widened and she quickly sat up. Giles placed a firm hand on her shoulder, trying to gently ease her back down. "Don't worry," he added. "It seems that something, or – or perhaps someone, did... something to the two of you. I'm really not sure on the specifics yet, but it would appear that you've both made a full recovery."

Maintaining her sat up position against Giles' attempts to urge her back down, she tried to process what had happened, to play back the events of the last day, but she ultimately found her focus unwilling to shift from the fight with Buffy. Or, more accurately, the beating she'd taken from Buffy.

"How are you?" Giles asked, his hand leaving her shoulder and retreating to his glasses.

"Mostly? Just numb."

"I meant..." his voice trailed off and, glasses in hand, he gestured loosely at her.

They sat in silence. She could feel Giles' loose stare as she kept her own eyes cast down at the hospital bed sheet that covered her legs. Her nerves began to flutter at the thought of Buffy's imminent arrival. Would she be pissed? Faith really didn't want to find out. Her eyes roamed across the small room to the entrance, but before she could debate making a run for it Xander filled the door frame.

"One coffee, made with the cheapest beans in all the land and stored in a vending machine for no longer than, oh, let's just call it three decades," he said cheerfully, offering out a filled plastic cup. Giles replaced his glasses and wearily gave it a thorough looking over before reluctantly reaching out to accept it. Next Xander turned to Faith, giving her a bullish smile and holding out a red foil packet. "And for you milady, some tasty Slayer regeneration snackage. Sorry, they didn't have a whole lot of choice. I would have gotten you a Twinkie, but I didn't know if I could make the walk back without scoffing it myself, and as for if you were still asleep... oh boy."

Glad for any distraction, not to mention more than a little hungry, Faith grabbed the potato chips from him and wasted no time in pulling the bag open and reaching in. "Thanks."

Xander continued around to the other side of the bed, plopping down in to the empty chair. "So, how about that wolf, hey?"

Faith looked over at him, her eyebrow raised in confusion. "What?" she asked through a half-chewed mouthful of food.

"Well we needed something to to tell the doctors, and a family hunting trip gone horribly wrong sounded reasonable enough. After a wolf attacked you, Giles here tried to tranq the awful creature, but his shot was a tad wide of the mark. You should have seen the looks the nurses gave him. I know it's something I'll personally never forget."

Faith glanced to the other side where Giles sat stony-faced, his head slowly shaking back and forth. Whether from embarrassment or just pure disapproval, Faith didn't know. She returned her attention to Xander, a thin smile on her face as she reached down into her bag for another handful. "And they actually bought that?"

"I didn't see any cops lurking outside just then so I think I did a pretty good job. Right, G-man?"

"Don't ever call me that," Giles complained. "In fact, don't even speak to me again," he added dryly. "I'm lucky I haven't been hauled off by protective services." He stole a glance at his watch. "Though I'm sure there's still plenty of time for that."

Faith tipped the broken up remains of the bag onto her palm before shovelling them into her waiting mouth.

"Already?" Xander asked, looking back and forth between the empty bag and Faith with an open-mouthed look that bordered on amazed.

"Yeah, I swear they keep making these things smaller."

"Or maybe you're just getting bigger," he said before a look of worry quickly shot on to his face. "In the tall sense of course, not the... wide sense. I mean you still look, um..." Xander's hands clasped together as he fidgeted in his seat. "So how've you been?" he finished, upbeat despite the nervous smile on his face.

"Five by five," Faith replied simply.

"That's... great. It's great that you're great. Right, Giles?"

"Err, yes. Of course. It's good to see you looking..." Giles flustered as he tried to deal with the deflection, and Faith thought she did well to keep her eyes from rolling right out the side of her head. It seemed even Xander couldn't keep the conversation going for long, and as Faith wondered if it could get much worse she found herself wishing someone would at least have the decency to drug her again.

"Buffy," Xander said from out of nowhere, and Faith's eyes widened without her permission. Of course, Faith realized – that's how things could get worse. She slowly, reluctantly, followed Xander's look, and sure enough she found herself staring up at Buffy, who stood completely drenched from head to toe, clumps of her damp, matted hair glued flat against her face. Oh she is so going to be pissed, Faith told herself.

----------

Buffy hovered nervously in the doorway, her eyes never crawling far away from the near end of Faith's hospital bed. Nobody spoke a word for what seemed like forever, and Buffy had none of her own to offer.

"Buff, I'm glad you're OK," Xander said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Thanks," Buffy replied quietly.

The silence hadn't gone far, and it lingered for a further few moments. Once again it was left to Xander to speak up, and his offering was as welcome as it was questionable. "You're starting to leave a puddle," he pointed out.

Buffy looked down to where a small pool of water had indeed started to form at her feet. "Yeah," she said absently, taking all the time she could to seek out intricate details that simply weren't there. For all the determination she'd had to get to the hospital she found herself dreading the final few metres. Knowing she couldn't just stand there forever, she looked to Xander and then Giles, careful to avoid Faith's gaze along the way. "Can you guys give us a minute?" She regretted the words the moment she heard them out loud, deciding too late that four seemed like a far safer number.

"Certainly," Giles said, immediately getting to his feet before she could take back the request. He held up a plastic cup in his hand, his outstretched arm keeping it about as far away from his body as he could reasonably manage. "Maybe the cafeteria will have something which more closely resembles coffee. Or perhaps, heaven forbid, maybe even a nice pot of tea."

Xander tutted as he followed Giles from the room. "British people, hey? Doesn't matter what you get them, they're just never happy."

"I'd be happy with tea," he replied indignantly.

Buffy unwillingly stepped to the side to let the two of them past and then stayed in place, nervously hugging the edge of the room. This shouldn't be so difficult, she thought to herself. It's not like they hadn't come to blows in the past, physical and otherwise. Then again, she had certainly risen the bar to an uncomfortable new height. Never before had she actually wanted to hurt Faith, and she liked to believe Faith felt the same way. Even though there had been other forces at work, she couldn't help but place some of the blame on herself. Nobody else had thrown the punches, and nobody else had swung the knife. She'd even been the one to almost-

"You gonna come in?" Faith asked, interrupting Buffy's internal self-loathing.

Buffy nodded slowly, a reflex action more than a confirmation of intent. She couldn't read Faith's voice. Did she sound angry? Afraid? There were plenty of reasons for both, though Buffy thought she only sounded a little tense if anything; or perhaps that was nothing more than wishful thinking on her part. Nonetheless, it helped Buffy pluck up enough courage to trudge her way over to the nearest seat. She remained careful to keep her eyes a safe distance from the other girl's face as her wet shoes squeaked quietly against the laminate floor with each step. She lowered into the vacated seat, her gaze resting on the bulge Faith's crossed legs made beneath the sheets, and she cupped her hands together at the edge of the bed.

Her tongue rolled around the inside of her mouth as she sought out the right words. Was there even such a thing as the right words for a situation like this? She figured that people who fought almost to the death probably didn't spend a whole lot of time locked in conversation – at least not on a regular basis.

"I..." As she started to speak she made the near-fatal mistake of allowing her eyes to flick too far up. The cuts and bruises that littered Faith's face decimated the meagre amount of optimism she had managed to collect together. Her forehead tightened, bringing her eyebrows together. Her head dropped between slumped shoulders, her gaze resting on the relative safety of her own hands. It didn't matter where she looked though; she'd already gotten a good look at the damage. The damage she'd caused with those very hands. Somehow it looked even worse than she remembered it, and the unwanted visual firmly planted itself in her mind; front, centre, and unwilling to budge an inch.

"Faith, I – I am so, so sorry," she said, her voice a faint whisper. She squeezed her eyes shut, setting free the pair of tears that hung loosely around her eyelashes. "I swear, I never wanted to hurt you. I... please, you have to believe me."

Her right foot fidgeted against the floor, coming to a rest only when she felt the warmth of Faith's palm as it curled over the top of her hands. "I believe you," Faith said.

It wasn't that Buffy didn't hear the words, only that her brain seemed incapable of fully processing them. "I know I can't even begin to make it up to you. I just..." She drew in a deep breath, but no amount of air could give her the strength she needed. "This is the last thing..." Her forehead scrunched up. Her words fell away, a single soft sob escaping from her throat to take their place.

The tips of Faith's fingers trailed smoothly across the top of Buffy's hand as they moved back, and Buffy could only watch with horror as they receded. Then, instead of leaving completely, they tried to press their way between Buffy's, and Buffy relaxed her muscles, letting the fingers slip through until their hands interlocked. "I believe you," Faith said, more firmly than the first time.

Buffy felt Faith's gentle squeeze and another sob escaped her throat. She bit nervously at her bottom lip as her head bobbed with the smallest of movements. Pulling together just enough courage to look at Faith, Buffy's bleary eyes found themselves set on her split, bruised cheek.

"I'm so sorry," Buffy repeated quietly, not knowing what else she could possibly say.

"B, really, I'm fine. It's just a couple of scratches. I don't even know why they shoved me in here." She held her far arm up, lifting out the material of the gaudy looking hospital gown as she looked down at it in discontent. "I'm telling you, if I'd still been conscious they sure as hell wouldn't have gotten me into this thing."

Buffy allowed herself the thinnest of smiles. Her free hand moved up to wipe away the next round of tears. She knew that physically Faith would be fine, any sign of the attack gone in a matter of days, though a couple of scratches was somewhat of an understatement. Her concerns ran deeper though: Faith being OK didn't mean that they would be OK. It didn't mean that they could pick up where they left off, and it didn't mean that Faith wouldn't have her bags packed before the night was through. Before she knew it she found herself pre-emptively trying to think of something to say to change her mind.

"Buffy. You're not the only who was a little out of it. In case you didn't notice, I wasn't exactly in my greatest state of mind either."

"But I tried to kill you," Buffy uttered weakly, wincing when she heard the words out load.

"No, you didn't," Faith stressed. "Or if you did, Giles really needs to work on your dagger skills," she quipped, but Buffy couldn't see the funny side. "Whatever did this to us," Faith carried on, "you beat it. We both know Giles didn't stop you. You stopped you. We're both still ticking, and when I get out of here, me and you are gonna track down the son of a bitch that did this and kick its scaly, little ass all over Sunny D, am I right?"

Buffy's eyes pressed shut as her smile grew. She nodded vehemently before taking some much needed time to try and compose herself. "How do you know there's scales?" she asked suddenly, the question popping into her mind from nowhere.

"'Cos, B, nine times out of ten, there's scales."

"And the other time?"

"Slime," Faith answered easily, drawing a small, earnest laugh from Buffy.

With the stream of tears cut off at the source and her vision beginning to clear, Buffy found herself looking into a face that displayed no anger or hate, only the confident, welcoming smile she'd become accustomed to. "Thank you, Faith," she said earnestly.

"Of course that does leave one small problem," Faith said, her voice plain. Buffy's brow furrowed, but before she had time to contemplate anything Faith collapsed back on to the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Now someone's gonna have to look after me in my weakened state."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly. "Really?" she asked, hints of amusement breaking through.

Faith nodded, a wide grin on her face. "Totally. And I heard they have Twinkies here. Just saying."

Buffy felt herself smile more than she had all day as she shook her head. She sniffled as the back of her hand wiped away the remaining dampness around her eyes. "Yeah? I guess I better see what I can do then."

"Also, if you come across a soda machine on the way..."

"Hey, you better not get too used to this," Buffy warned her, pointing an accusatory finger her way. "One day. Two tops."

Faith lazily stretched her arms up before crossing them behind her head. "Guess I better make the most of it then."

Content to simply bask in the fact that things hadn't turned out as awful as she'd expected, Buffy watched Faith in silence for several moments before beginning her hunt for a vending machine or two. She managed to get only as far as the doorway before her mother rounded the corner without slowing down. Buffy's quick reflexes were the only thing that kept them both off the floor, her hand shooting out to stop her mother before they crashed straight into each other.

"Oh Buffy, I'm so glad you're OK," she said, pulling Buffy into a tight hug. "I called Mr. Giles as soon as you ran out. He explained everything in the hallway. I'm just glad he found you so soon." She paused, relinquishing her hold as she peered over Buffy's shoulder into the room. "How's Faith?"

"She's good," Buffy said, smiling in the knowledge that she wasn't just lying for her mother's sake.

"Do you mind if I?" Joyce asked, pointing past her.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. I'll be back in a few minutes." She looked down at herself and let out a small groan. "Or possibly a little longer; I think I need to go and stand under a dryer."

----------

Upon her return to Faith's bedside, Buffy found her mother and Faith in conversation, though it stopped when her entrance drew their attention.

"Here you go," Buffy stated cheerfully. "One times Twinkie, and because I've seen what you can do to an entire bucket of chicken wings, one times Hershey bar to boot." She tossed the pair of snacks toward Faith, who didn't have to apply much effort to catch one in each hand. She felt much more relaxed, the ease with which Faith's forgiveness had come doing more than just settling her nerves.

"Hershey bar? So Xander was holding out on me," Faith said, her eyes flicking eagerly between the two bars. "I could kiss you, B."

Buffy's eyes caught her mother's, and she averted them quickly, the present company making her blush more than she otherwise might have. "Sorry, they were out of coke," she carried on quickly, sidestepping Faith's comment. She held out the chilled can to Faith, who took a moment to shift the snacks into one hand before accepting the offering.

"Don't worry, Pepsi is way the superior drink."

"Always knew you were a freak," Buffy said, her teasing earning her a playful knock on her arm.

"I'm trying very hard not to comment on the health ramifications of that meal," Joyce said, eyeing the contents of Faith's hands with a great deal of suspicion.

"And doing a fabulous job," Buffy replied. "Besides, have you actually seen the food here? Their jello does not come in a natural colour of green. Trust me, this is a step up."

"Plus slaying takes it right from the hips, so it's all good," Faith added, tearing open the Hershey bar without delay.

"Against my better judgement, I'll have to take your words on that," Joyce said, looking between Buffy and Faith with some scepticism. She looked down at her watch and frowned. "Anyway, if you're both OK then I should really get going. I'll never survive an afternoon at the gallery if I don't get at least some sleep. But I spoke to the doctors on my way in and they said you should be fine to leave tomorrow morning, Faith. Mr. Giles has already sorted out the bills so all you'll need to do is sign a release form before you go. I'll come and pick you up around ten?"

"It's cool, I can walk."

"Don't be silly. It's no trouble, and I don't need to be at the gallery until lunch so I've got plenty of time."

"OK, sure."

"Buffy, I can drop you off at the campus on my way back if you like?"

"Actually I was going to stay. Keep Faith company, at least for a little while." Buffy looked at Faith to make sure that wouldn't be a problem, perhaps a small amount of leftover anxiety still holding on, but the smile she found quickly squashed it down.

Her mother nodded. "OK sweety." She bent down and gave Buffy a quick peck on the forehead. "Just please be careful, OK? That goes for the both of you."

"Well, impending sugar high aside, I think we should be safe," Buffy quipped. Honestly though, she was glad – surprised, but glad – that her mother hadn't had a total freak out. Of course there would still be time for that later, but she could worry about later, well, later.

"I mean just take it easy for a while," Joyce clarified.

"We will. Thanks."

Once the two of them were left alone, Buffy returned her full attention to Faith, watching with mild amusement as she devoured the defenceless Hershey bar without mercy. She waited until Faith lay back, seemingly saving the Twinkie for later, before she spoke up. "So... are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"B-" Faith began, the tone in that single letter making it obvious to Buffy a complaint was forthcoming.

"I'm only checking," Buffy said apologetically, holding up her palms to signal she'd back off.

"And I appreciate it, really, but what happened happened. It was nobody's fault and we're both fine – so can we just forget about it?"

Buffy smiled and gave a curt nod. "Forget about it, check." She adjusted herself in her seat, failing to find a comfy position within its hard, plastic clutches. "In that case, budge up; this chair keeps sticking in my back. I think it might be possessed or something."

Faith gave the chair a doubtful glance before she spoke up, her voice suddenly strained. "Well, B, I would, but I think I'm too injured to move. You can probably just about squeeze up here though." She patted the thin strip of free space next to her.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You just said you were fine."

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"Uh-huh," Buffy replied, completely unconvinced. "Move it." She stood up and poked Faith in her ribs, then followed up with another, doing her part to help the girl come to a quick decision.

"Jeez, B, have some respect for the wounded," Faith joked through a large grin, but she shifted herself to one side, leaving Buffy with enough room to climb up next to her.

Buffy quickly pulled one of the two pillows out from under Faith's head, placing it behind her back before leaning into the wall behind the bed and stretching out her legs. "Mmm, much better."

"Oh sure, take my pillow, get the sheets wet. Wanna go ahead and steal the covers while you're at it?"

"I would never do that," Buffy replied, looking down at Faith with an almost-straight face that portrayed only the smallest amount of guilt. Sure, perhaps she had some vague recollection of Willow complaining about waking up cold on the odd occasion, but could she really be expected to take the blame for her needy subconscious? "And I'll have you know I just spent fifteen minutes performing some pretty impressive acrobatic feats under a hand dryer." Buffy stuck her arm out over Faith's head. "See? Feel me. One hundred percent moisture free."

Faith didn't move, only laying there as her eyes moved to Buffy's. Buffy's arm remained outstretched for a few more moments before pulling back. "Emm, so, are you tired?" she asked, Faith's continued look making her feel a touch awkward.

"Not really."

"Yeah, me neither."

"Wanna watch TV?"

"You think they have cable?" Buffy asked optimistically.

The answer to that question was a resounding no, and for the best part of fifteen minutes she found herself paying little attention to what appeared to be an old gangster movie. Even if there had been sound, or at the very least subtitles, Buffy's interest would still have amounted to very little. She'd told Faith she'd forget about what happened, and it's not like she wasn't trying. However, as she tried to shut out the things she'd done she found her focus switching to Faith's actions instead.

While Buffy's worries over her mother had driven her to some horribly misplaced anger, she had trouble putting her finger on Faith's behaviour. She'd seemed scared of something. Maybe even of her. But something bothered her more than that. Something she couldn't quite get her head around. "Hey, Faith?" she asked, sitting upright.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Earlier..." Last chance, she warned herself, but sometimes her mouth simply refused to listen to reason. "Why did you stop?"

Faith instantly abandoned the TV she'd seemed so engrossed in, tilting her head back to look up at her. "Stop what?"

"You stopped fighting," Buffy said slowly. "You didn't move. I could have killed you... and you just lay there."

Faith's deep breath didn't go unnoticed, and her eyes flicked back to the TV. She stayed completely still, completely silent, and Buffy couldn't help but picture the wet grass and soil that had lay beneath her body only a few hours earlier.

Buffy licked her lips. They weren't even dry, but it allowed her to put off asking the question for just that little bit longer. "Did you – do you want to die?"

"No," Faith replied instantly, offering nothing more than that.

"Then why didn't you do something?" Buffy pressed. "Anything?"

Faith rolled onto her side, her back facing Buffy, one arm keeping the covers tight to her chest.

Buffy laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. "Faith? What's going on?"

"I need you to go," Faith said quietly.

"What? But-"

"Please. I just – I can't do this. Not yet."

Buffy considered outright refusing the request, but she'd already caused Faith enough harm for one night, and she realized that pushing further would only make things worse. "OK," she reluctantly agreed, giving Faith's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before withdrawing her hand. "Sorry." Faith remained in the same spot as Buffy slid from the bed to her feet, where she continued to watch the back of Faith's motionless head for several more seconds. She leaned over, gently pursing her lips against the side of Faith's head. "Good night, Faith," she offered softly before turning and dejectedly making for the exit.

She stalled in the doorway when Faith's quiet response came from behind. "Night, B." She took one last look back, the worry showing itself on her forehead. Taking her new-found concerns with her, she stepped out into the quiet, deserted hallway, a sad smile on her face.

"Faith, I understand that you've had a long night, but I think it's time for that talk."

Faith stopped in her tracks, having only managed to get one foot on the bottom stair inside the Summers' house. Great, she thought sarcastically, though she'd already known the ride home came with strings fully attached, and unfortunately Buffy couldn't save her twice. Not after Faith had pushed her away. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was way out of line." Her eyes remained on the stairs, and she considered putting her Slayer speed to good use and bolting for her room before Joyce could so much as utter another word.

"Mr. Giles already explained why you and Buffy were acting oddly. That's not the problem."

"Oh. Well if it's the statue, I can get you the money for a new one."

"Don't worry about that old thing. There's a reason I kept it hidden away in the spare room."

Faith shook her head as she turned to face Joyce. "Then what?"

"You've seen that I don't have many rules in this house. The main one is that I expect to be shown some decency and respect, and you've done nothing but that while you've stayed here." Faith knew it wouldn't be as easy as receiving a thumbs up, and she found her hand fidgeting with the top of the banister while she waited to find out what would come next.

"After you and Buffy took off last night I went in your room to survey the damage-" Joyce paused off Faith's shocked look. "Don't worry, I didn't snoop," she reassured her. "But I did see the bottle of alcohol on the floor."

"I paid for it-" Faith began immediately.

"That's really not the point," Joyce cut her off, her tone effortlessly shifting toward stern in a manner that suggested many years of practice. "You're still a minor, Faith, and I won't have you drinking while you're living under my roof."

Faith felt a brief moment of uncertainty, and she acted quickly to shut it out. "Fine. I can fix that," she said, already heading for the front door without further thought. Joyce moved just as quick, stepping to her side to block the exit. "You wanna get out of my way?" Faith asked, little more than a slither of a warning behind the words.

"Are you going to throw me out the way if I don't?" Faith watched her, waiting for her to back down, but Joyce stood firm. "Do you really think going back to a dingy motel room to drink yourself into a coma is going to make anything better?"

Faith let out a tired sigh before turning around and pacing farther down the hallway. "God damn-it," she muttered, "what is it with you Summers women?"

"We're a pain, I know. Trust me, I've been trying to figure one out for over eighteen years now, and I'm still not sure if I've gotten anywhere." The joke wasn't lost on Faith, but her dour mood wouldn't allow even a small smile to form. "I haven't told Buffy about it, and I wouldn't without your permission. But I know she's worried about you and so am I. I really think you should talk to someone, and if you don't feel comfortable discussing it with Buffy then I'm always willing to listen."

Faith crossed her arms tightly, her back still turned toward Joyce. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Joyce said simply, and then she stayed silent, waiting for Faith's eyes to find their way to her own before elaborating. "I may not be able to slay vampires, or do spells, or – or know how to kill demons, but I've been around for some time now Faith, and I know a little something about life. I know it can be painful, and I know sometimes it can feel like it's too much."

Faith's reply was hesitant as she busied herself trying to weigh up the situation. Just the thought of talking about her to past to anyone made her sick to her stomach, especially to someone still under the impression that she was a good person. To someone who didn't look down on her as a screw-up. But she had no desire to go back to wallowing in some trashy motel either, and she knew all too well that she didn't have the cash to stay anywhere nicer for any real length of time. "What has Buffy told you?" she asked.

A thin smile formed on Joyce's face. "Not much. I'm usually the last to know anything. After all, I'm only her mother."

"Yeah," Faith said quietly, mostly to herself, and her eyes dropped to the carpet. She understood that – how it felt being on the outside, to not be a part of anything. Each day, for as long as she could remember, she'd continued to tell herself that it didn't matter. That she was be better off alone. And eventually she'd even grown to believe it. Only once she'd met Buffy did that belief truly start to falter, the foundation of her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack apart.

"Why don't I get us both a drink – of the non-alcoholic variety – and then we can see where we go from there."

"I don't know if I can."

"Then we'll just sit. No pressure, I promise."

----------

Buffy and Willow walked side by side through the college hallway, both of them cradling a mug of comforting hot cocoa close to their chests. They moved with no real urgency, looking only to put off heading outside in to the continuing bad weather. The heavy rain had stopped and started all night, and, unable to get any real sleep, Buffy had found herself waiting for her dorm room window to cave in against the repeated assaults from the strong wind.

"I can't believe Giles hasn't gotten anywhere with the research," Buffy complained. "I think all that time lounging about at home is costing him his edge."

"He says we need more to go on to narrow it down. Apparently there are a lot of ways to mess with someone's mind, which, by the way, is a little unsettling. Now my brain feels all helpless and exposed."

Willow pouted her disapproval, and Buffy patted her on the head. "Don't worry, I am more than willing to work through the entire list and kill everything on it if that's what it takes."

"You don't remember anything at all that might have started it? Say for example a conspicuous looking demon, or someone trying to steal your hair? Maybe even some radioactive ooze you accidentally trod in?"

Buffy's exasperated sigh alone would have been enough of an answer. She'd spent the early hours of the morning trying to put together the details, and she had absolutely nothing to show for it. "I wish I did, but I was just sat in class when this thought crept into my head. I told myself I was being ridiculous and tried to forget about it, but then it kept pushing its way back, stronger and stronger each time. I don't even remember the tipping point – one minute I'm on my way to patrol, this horrible nagging sensation clawing at my mind, and the next I'm kneeling over Faith ready to... God, just thinking about it makes me cringe."

"Sorry," Willow offered sympathetically. "How did Faith take it? Hopefully she's not planning on, oh I don't know, strangling your friends or anything. For instance."

"Will, please-" Buffy started.

"OK, that wasn't helpful," Willow instantly conceded, looking guilty enough for Buffy to let the comment slide.

"She took it a lot better than expected, which definitely helps. It's kind of weird really. I mean wouldn't you be at least a little freaked if I tried to kill you?"

"If a Slayer tried to kill me, I think mostly I'd be a little dead. I have to say though, her dealing doesn't seem to rank too highly on the uh-oh scale."

"Not really," Buffy admitted. "I'm just worried there's something else going on with her."

"Something like what?"

"Therein lies the problem – I have no idea. She wouldn't say, and past experience suggests that pushing with Faith tends to, well, push. In the sense of her moving further away. I just wish she could trust me enough to open up. Of course I'm sure beating her to a bloody pulp will have done wonders there."

"Maybe she just needs some time to get her head together," Willow offered. "It sounds like it was a rough night for both of you."

"Maybe," Buffy half-heartedly agreed, knowing deep down there had to be more to it than that. "Don't you think problems are so much easier when you can just punch them in their deformed, demonic faces?" Without thinking, she jabbed her hand forward in demonstration, and her eyes widened as the hot cocoa spilled from her mug. She couldn't look away as it moved through the air in slow motion, heading straight toward the chest of its unsuspecting victim.

Jacob quickly pulled off his cocoa-covered t-shirt and then pulled the stained, formerly all-white vest underneath out away from his skin.

"Ooh," Buffy said, wincing. She automatically put her hands out to help before realizing there wasn't a whole lot she could do. "I am so sorry."

"It's OK, I think the double layering took the brunt of it. I'm just glad it's not Summer."

Buffy offered him a nervous smile. It seemed nobody was all that safe around her at the moment.

"Nice tattoo," Willow said, and Buffy followed her eyes to the simple design that wrapped around the curve of his shoulder.

Jacob shuffled around, keeping the bulk of it from view. "You know how it is. Everyone's got to make at least one stupid decision in their life. Figured I'd get in there early."

"I hear you," Willow said earnestly. "When I was eight I had Tweety Bird tattooed on my arm."

Buffy's eyebrows involuntarily rose as she looked to Willow, and she couldn't decide whether it was a result of scepticism or surprise.

Willow must have seen the shock on Buffy's face because she quickly clarified, "oh, well it was a transfer one. It was only meant to last a few days, but I felt so guilty about it that I spent three hours scrubbing it off the same night to make sure my parents wouldn't see."

Buffy smiled in amusement. "You're a real menace to society, Will."

"Tell me about it. This girl cannot be tamed." Her eyes flicked between Buffy and Jacob before she pointed down the hall. "Oh, look, Oz. I'm going to..."

She sped off before an open-mouthed Buffy could even get out a goodbye, and Buffy smiled awkwardly at Jacob. "Sugar rush," she offered by way of explanation.

"Which is kind of endearing I guess. So..."

"I really am sorry," she got in quickly. "But maybe I could buy you a drink to make it up to you?"

"That depends, you're not planning to throw it on me are you?"

"Well I can't promise anything, but I didn't have it specifically pencilled in. Did I mention I was sorry about that?"

"You did actually. Three times now I think. Maybe if you're free later we could meet in the cafeteria?"

"Actually I'm kind of all scheduled up today. But maybe later this week?" Her concerns weren't likely to be going anywhere until she made sure Faith was doing OK, and she figured she should check in with Giles at some point too.

"That could work well. I'm kind of having a get together at my place Friday night. Just a small crowd; some people I've met over the last week or so. You're more than welcome to come along. And if you're still working your way up to the partying aspect of college then maybe it would make a good halfway point?"

A little relaxation wouldn't do her any harm, she considered, and she could really do with taking her mind of things for a couple of hours. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

----------

Faith took the smallest of sips, drinking barely enough liquid to warm the base of her tongue; she figured the longer she made it last the longer she could put off saying anything. The silence continued to slowly gnaw away at her resolve, and yet somehow Joyce looked perfectly at ease, almost as if her thoughts were a few counties away.

Maybe she could offer Joyce something small, Faith considered, though she quickly realized the slight flaw with that plan: what could she possibly say? 'Oh, by the way, I chained your daughter to a wall and tried to get her boyfriend to kill her – real sorry about that.' Yeah, that's what every mother loves to hear. She didn't have any small mistakes; it seemed like everything she touched went to hell in the worst possible way.

"Do you have any family, Faith? You've been in Sunnydale for a while now. Isn't there somebody back home worrying about you?"

So much for putting it off, Faith thought. She shook her head, keeping her expression blank.

"But you're only seventeen. Surely there must be someone? Parents? Or guardians?"

"It's just me," she confirmed. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands dropping from the table to her lap. "There was... I lived with my watcher for a while."

"Well, why don't you tell me about her?"

Faith drew in a deep breath. The kitchen suddenly felt far too small, the table smaller still, and she pushed her chair back, rising up and trying to act casual as she took her time crossing the short distance to the window. Leaning against the counter, she watched as the small drops of rain splashed against the glass, piling on top of one another and blurring the view of the garden. Her eyes roamed to the side, setting on the potted plant that stood innocently by the wall. Knowing full well of the Buffy mishap its job was to hide, a thin smile crossed her face as she carefully ran her finger and thumb down one of its thin, dainty leaves. "She was cool," she said finally. "You know, for a stuffy British type."

No response came and so Faith carried on, reminding herself as much as telling Joyce. "She didn't care where I came from, or that I'd never really amounted to anything before. She didn't look down on me like everyone else. All she saw was what I could be. Had me pegged as some kind of hero from day one." Faith snorted out a rough laugh. "Shows what she knew." A twinge of anger swept through her, too overwhelming to ignore, and she lashed out, driving her knuckles hard into the edge of the kitchen counter. The impact shook the entire counter, the vibrations carrying far enough to rattle the dishes that stood drying by the sink. Her battle-hardened skin didn't crack, and she ignored the pain that soared through her hand. "She should have stayed the hell away from me. At least then she'd still be alive."

"You have a dangerous job, Faith, and while you may not have had a choice, I'm sure she did." Joyce's voice had remained calm despite Faith's violent outburst. "She will have known full well what she was getting in to, and maybe she decided you were worth the risk. But whatever the reason for her decision, you can't hold yourself responsible for saving everyone."

Faith shook her head, unable to take comfort from Joyce's words. "She told me not to go after them. She told me to hold off until we knew what was going on. But I didn't listen. I thought I could handle it. I didn't know what would-" It never took much to bring the final seconds of her watcher's life crashing back into her head. Not only because of the brutal manner of her death, but because Faith had, in that very quick, very sudden moment, failed her in every possible way. Diana had always stood by her side, and as if letting her die hadn't been bad enough, what had Faith done next? She had run. Diana had been her watcher, and yet she'd run away as fast as she could, leaving the lifeless, desecrated body to rot away unattended. "I just wish..."

She paced the length of the room, her hand trailing limply across the surface of the kitchen counter. "I wish I could tell her how sorry I was," she finished quietly. Her runaway emotions were dashing back and forth across the spectrum, unable to stick to any particular motif for long. Affection fought an impossible battle again frustration, and she had to grit her teeth to keep back the tears as guilt looked to usurp her anger.

"Maybe you can. Maybe she's listening."

"What, you mean like from heaven or something?" Faith scoffed as she turned back to the table.

Joyce calmly rose to her feet, and if she was unnerved she didn't let it show, instead offering Faith a small smile. "I don't know. Perhaps. I'm not really sure what I believe in, but I'd like to think that once I'm gone I'll still be out there somewhere, looking over Buffy. Just to make sure she's OK."

The sentiment brought a fleeting smile to Faith's face, only for it to be chased away by her bitter thoughts. "Great, so she gets a front row to seat to watch me screw up everyone else's life as well. At least she'll know it was nothing personal." Faith smirked, the action a result of her sad realisation. "But you know what the funny part is? I always wanted to be more than some pathetic, overlooked little girl. Turns out, everyone would have been better off if I'd just stayed a nobody."

"It's no secret that I've never been thrilled that Buffy was chosen for this... this whole Slaying thing. I hope that doesn't make me a bad mother, but believe me, knowing your daughter is out there fighting for her life is not a barrel of laughs. I do know this though – I've been able to sleep a lot easier knowing that you and her are looking out for each other. So for what it's worth, I for one am more than glad to have you here, Faith. And I can seen how well you and Buffy get on, so I know that's at least two lives you've made better."

Joyce turned to lean against the counter at Faith's side. Together they stared across the room in silence for some time, the bare wall opposite offering little in the way of a view.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Faith admitted quietly.

"I guess that's really up to you. But whatever it may be, you're a strong, capable woman. I know you can do whatever you set your mind to, Faith; you just need to give yourself the chance."

----------

Faith hesitated before knocking, and then she stood waiting, the small enclose shielding her from the rain. Not one for patience, her fist was prepped to try again just as the door swung open.

"Faith," Giles said, the surprise in his voice unmistakable. "I, umm, what can I do for you?"

Faith took a while to respond, partly because she didn't really plan on having a conversation on Giles' porch and partly because her last minute jitters weren't quite through telling her to turn back around. "Can I come in?" she asked finally, once it became obvious Giles was unlikely to move of his own accord.

"Yes. Yes, of course." He stepped back, holding the door open with one hand and ushering her in with the other. "Please, make yourself at home."

Faith hugged her arms around herself as she walked inside. She eyed the chairs but opted to remain standing, positioning her back against the far wall before focusing on Giles.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you with?" he asked as he made his way to the table across from her. A large number of open books were scattered messily across the surface, layered on top of one another and pointing in just about every direction possible. "I'm afraid I've yet to come up with anything concrete regarding..." He perched against the table, his hand reaching for his glasses.

"That's not why I'm here."

"No? If you're looking for Buffy, I'm sure she'll be arriving shortly. Can I get you a drink while you wait?" He didn't hang around for an answer, rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he turned for the adjoining kitchen.

"I can't keep doing this," Faith blurted out, her outburst stopping him in his tracks. He turned back to her, slowly replacing his glasses and peering through them cautiously.

"Can't keep doing what?"

Faith swallowed the tiny amount of saliva left in her dry mouth; maybe she should have taken that drink first, she thought to herself. Her eyes found interest in the stack of cardboard boxes placed in the corner of the room. She still had time to get out of there before she made a fool of herself. Why would this even change anything?

"Faith?"

"My last watcher, she – Diana – she gave me direction. I had a purpose. A reason to fight." Her fists clenched as she fought to keep her emotions in check, and she took a deep breath before continuing, her head rolling forward as she tried to release some of the stress caged in her body. "I want that again. I can't just keep sitting around feeling sorry for myself waiting for God-knows-what to make everything better. I want to help people again... I want to make up for the things I've done."

"And you think I might be able to help?" Giles asked, and Faith could practically see his mind ticking over.

"Look, I'll get it if you don't want to, but if it's cool with B I thought maybe you could pull double watcher duty."

"I see," Giles said simply.

"If you've got time," she added quickly, giving him an easy way out and fully expecting him to take it.

"I dare say I've found myself with an awful lot of it these days," he said as he rose from the table. "Time that is." His hand waved vaguely around the room. "Though as you can see, the same can't be said for the amount of living space. I'm not really set up for it at the moment – Buffy hasn't really been doing much in the way of training since finishing high school. I think university is keeping her sufficiently occupied for the time being."

Faith's eyes lowered to the floor, and not only to keep them from rolling. His response was hardly surprising, but she'd expected a better excuse than that. She wished she could at least feel angry, but it was his decision to make. He didn't owe her anything, and she should have known better than to expect favours from anyone.

"Give me a day or two though, a-and I'm sure I can sort something out," he continued. Faith looked up, eyeing him cautiously. "In the meantime, perhaps you could be of assistance with trying to find out what attacked you and Buffy? There's an awful lot of literature, and not a whole lot to go on at the moment. And you never know, with any luck something may trigger a memory."

Caught completely off guard, at first all Faith could manage was a brief nod of her head. Research wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, but if she was going to get then she was going to have to give a little as well. Her eyes scanned across the table once more; there really were a lot of books there. "Just point me at the right one."

Giles sighed as his eyes travelled across the array of open texts. "Your guess is as good a mine so take your pick. Although best to stay away from that one on the far end. It's in Hebrew. And also, a tad overwritten." A small smile made its way on to his face as he finished, his short, nervous laugh barely audible.

"Right." She took a seat and spun the nearest book toward her, eyeing it with only the smallest amount of distaste.

"Oh, I just remembered, I have something of yours," he said, moving out of sight toward the front door. "I meant to give it to you last night, but it must have slipped my mind," he called back, reappearing only seconds later to place the object down in front of her.

Faith studied it silently, her eyes running up the curved, black and red handle before lingering on the split-blade design. She'd never come across a blade as beautiful as that one, and she doubted she ever would again. Her hand hovered over it for several seconds, her fingers anticipating wrapping around the handle, and she allowed her thoughts to shift to Mayor Wilkins.

There'd been a time when he'd been the only thing she had, or so she'd thought. Of course, she hadn't realized back then that the person she thought she'd lost forever had still been holding out for her. While she'd lost all hope, Buffy hadn't, and while she didn't know exactly what that meant, she did know that she wouldn't be alone any longer.

"Bin it," she said finally, pulling her hand away.

"Are you sure?" Giles asked, and Faith looked up to see his brow fully furrowed.

She gave it one final goodbye glance before confidently nodding her decision.

"It's not mine."

Buffy didn't stop to knock before barging through the front door, knowing full well that Giles rarely bothered to keep it locked; a detail which would have been a little more worrying were it not for the fact that vampires needed a more formal invitation. She'd hung around her empty house for a fairly dull couple of hours, wondering where Faith had gotten to, before she'd given up and decided to check in with Giles first.

"Hey Gi-" she started before her eyes landed on Faith sat at a table. A table filled with books. And Faith appeared to be reading them. "Woah, check out the research girl," she said, the surprise in her voice very much real. "OK, Giles, fess up – where'd you put the real one?" she asked as she spied Giles across the living room. Coming to a stop behind Faith, she peered curiously at the book placed on the table in front of her. Seeing nothing but a wall of text, she gave the girl a couple of pokes in the back of the shoulder. "Huh. Feels authentic."

"Hilarious," Faith returned flatly, her head staying in place as she awkwardly swatted behind at Buffy's hand.

"Find anything?"

She regretted asking the moment Faith slammed the book shut. "No. I pretty much suck at this."

"There's a lot to get through, Faith," Giles offered diplomatically as he turned from the bookcase to face them. "Research often takes a great deal of time, especially when we don't have much to work with."

"Whatever. This is bull," Faith huffed before her eyes flicked to Giles. "Sorry. I'm just saying I'm better at the action stuff is all," she finished somewhat softer.

"I understand. Buffy too has always-" He caught sight of Buffy's raised eyebrow. "-been, err, slanted more toward the – the very important fighting aspect of the role." He cleared his throat nervously, looking at her as if to check whether he'd saved himself in the nick of time.

He hadn't. "Gee, Giles, now I'm really glad I spent so many precious mornings getting up at the crack of dawn to come help you research."

"I-I-I..." He paused, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wait a minute. I don't recall that ever happening."

Buffy had to force her jaw to drop. "How can you even say that?" she asked, calling upon what little acting skills she possessed to try and sound hard done by.

Giles sat down on the sofa, dropping the book in his hand onto the coffee table. He leant back and crossed his arms. "Name one," he said simply.

"Well there were lots of times. Like the one where... or when... ooh! How about that time I found the mystical thingamabob to stop the invasion of the... evil... things," she managed, frowning at herself even as she finished.

"Ah yes, how I could I ever forget the mystical thingamabob," he returned dryly.

"Fine, fine, I can see where I'm not wanted. Come on, Faith, let's just go and mindlessly kill some creatures of the night." She bent over, bringing her mouth close to Faith's ear. "Before he makes us both stay and read," she whispered loud enough to ensure Giles could still hear, though he didn't rise to the bait.

"Don't have to ask me twice," Faith said, instantly shooting to her feet.

"Buffy," Giles called out before the two of them could quickly vanish through the door. "On a more serious note, please be careful. Both of you. Whatever it is, that thing could still be lurking out there somewhere."

"Oh I really hope so."

----------

"Do you think scolding someone before you go to their party could be seen as a bad omen?" Buffy asked. "Well, it's more of a drink with other people than a party," she amended. "And hopefully the drink will actually get drunk. Like drinks are supposed to."

Faith's head bobbed to and fro as she scanned over the rows of gravestones ahead of them, seemingly paying Buffy no attention whatsoever.

"Faith?" Buffy asked loudly, trying to get her attention.

"Yeah?" Faith said plainly, still not bothering to look her way.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"Don't think I'm the one who needs to worry about that," Faith muttered under her breath, but it didn't go unnoticed by Buffy's focused senses.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, already knowing full well what Faith was implying.

"Nothing."

"You haven't even met him," Buffy said defensively. "He seems like a nice guy."

Faith's shrug showed her continuing lack of interest. "I'm sure he's great. A real pillar of excitement."

"I've had excitement. And in case you've forgotten, that didn't turn out so well," Buffy shot back, beginning to feel more than a little peeved with Faith's sudden case of bad attitude.

"And so now you're settling for plain and simple?"

"Well maybe that's what I need right now. A nice, normal relationship with a nice, normal guy."

"Yeah? Sounds thrilling."

"Well I was going to ask Balthazar out so we could raise some hell, but oh yeah, kinda killed him already." Despite the joke, her voice had picked up a biting edge as her irritation grew to a new level, though that proved enough to get Faith to finally look her way, her eyebrows softening as she regarded Buffy.

"All I'm saying is someone like that will never get you. Slaying's the biggest part of your life, B. It's who you are, and you can't even tell him about it. How's that ever going to work out?"

"First of all, it's a drink, not a marriage proposal. And secondly, there's more to me than just being the – a Slayer, Faith."

"No doubt," Faith replied, and Buffy was thankful her hiccup had been either overlooked or ignored. "But you can't deny it's made you the way you are. We've both been through it girlfriend, and it's changed us. The hunt. The thrill of the battle. The kill. It's what makes us tick."

"Maybe for you."

"Is that right?" Faith asked. She stopped walking and offered up her full attention, a sceptical look on her face. She made a show of pointedly looking around before re-focusing on Buffy. "Then you wanna let me know what you're doing out here? You know I can handle a couple of vamps by myself, so why aren't you sat at home bookworming it up or whatever?"

Buffy reflected on that for just a moment. To some extent it had become a force of habit, and as of late the company hadn't exactly made it a chore. She knew she'd be lying if she said there wasn't at least some part of her that needed to be there though. A part of her that could only be sated when she patrolled, and a part of her that found it difficult to sleep if that patrol turned up empty. Perhaps more to the point, she very much doubted that she could convince Faith otherwise. "OK, so maybe you're not totally wrong," she conceded quietly, her gaze dipping for just a second.

"Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of, B. We were built for this, remember?" Faith said, the energy in her voice mirrored by animated hands that motioned between herself and Buffy. "Hell, we were born for this. The chosen two, kicking ass until the end of days."

Faith offered her a large grin and, with the verbal scuffle instantly forgotten, Buffy couldn't keep herself from smiling back as she let her gaze wander. It didn't take a particularly keen eye to spot the impending danger. "Well I don't know about the end of days, but we've got company right now." Buffy casually drew a stake from the inside of her jacket pocket and Faith quickly followed suit, but the duo stayed in place as they let the line of vampires approach.

The female on one end of the row took a single step forward to put itself slightly in front of the rest of them. With shaggy, jet black hair that hung messily past its shoulders, an equally dark satin corset, and a matching ruffled mini skirt, the nose ring was nothing more than the cherry on the clichéd goth-rock cake. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

The rest of the group looked equally cheerful, and Buffy couldn't keep her amusement hidden away. "The Adams Family?" she suggested. "You've kind of got the whole Morticia vibe going there." She shrugged casually. "You know, if Morticia was a giant skank."

The vampire let out an angry growl as its face morphed, its bright yellow eyes shining ominously through the surrounding black. "Bet you didn't expect that," it hissed.

"Wait, what?" Buffy asked, her thoughts faltering as her eyebrows fully rose. "You... do know who we are, right?"

"I'm thinking dinner," the tall, broad male stood just off-centre called out before its tongue ran eagerly over bared fangs. A long, silver chain hung around its thick neck, coming down almost to the bottom of a black t-shirt that simply declared 'HIM' in large, white letters.

Buffy glanced at Faith before looking back across the row of vampires. "Really?" she asked incredulously. "Pointy wooden objects not giving anything away?" Still there was no visible reaction from the vampires. "Are you lot new to this whole undead thing? I hope so, because otherwise I'm telling you, I'm going to be majorly insulted."

"It has been kind of dead recently, B," Faith joined in. "Maybe we need to give the vamps of Sunnydale a little reminder that the Slayers are still running this Hellmouth."

Buffy could almost see the light bulb switch on behind Morticia's eyes. "The slayers," it hissed, its tongue slipping out of its mouth, though Buffy was once again a little taken aback when its grin grew rather than shrank. Things really must have been quiet recently, she realized. "All two of you. And seven of us." It turned to look across the rest of the group, and as it began a high-pitched laugh-stroke-shriek the others quickly followed suit, their combined laughter failing to meld in any way, shape or form.

Buffy waited patiently for their almost painful chorus to die down before shrugging nonchalantly and turning to share a look with Faith. "Good for us," she said brightly.

Faith cocked her head. "Bad for them."

Their eyes remained locked on each other, and Buffy's heartbeat quickened, her fingers tightening around the stake as she prepared for battle. It really had been a while since they'd gotten the chance for a real fight, and Buffy's back arched ever so slightly inward as anticipation tingled down her spine. Then, without warning, and with no need for a signal, they turned as one and shot forward, the lightning-fast, perfectly synchronised attack leaving behind two piles of dust before the rest of the vampires had even registered the fight had begun.

From there the vampires quickly split into two groups, cautiously circling around to either side of the Slayers. Standing with her back pressed to Faith's, Buffy faced off against Morticia and two others, leaving the other Slayer with the large brute plus one more.

"Bet I can take mine out first," Faith challenged.

Buffy felt the grin spread over her face. "You're on." She didn't wait for a signal from Faith; after all, she had a one vampire handicap to account for. Dashing forward, she sent Morticia reeling back with a flying kick to the chest, and on another night the resulting cracking sound might have been enough to make Buffy wince. But not tonight.

Unfortunately the move hadn't left her with the greatest of positioning, and she found herself stood with a vampire to either side. Sensing the punch coming, she turned to successfully block the shot from the first, only to receive a jab to the spine of her back from the other.

She made her disapproval known by spinning around, the back of her taut, outstretched forearm catching the attacker in the side of its head. The momentum spun it to the side, and a quick flick of her foot into the back of its ankles sent it flailing awkwardly to the floor. The other vampire dived onto her back and wrapped its lanky arms around her neck. The sneak attack did it little good, and she easily took hold of it, grabbing a handful of scrunched up hair and getting a high-pitched squeal as she sharply pulled forward. It landed on top of the other downed vampire and Buffy's stake moved down in two quick, successive jabs, each one sending a layer of dust exploding outward.

What should have been a quick glance to check on Faith turned into something more as Buffy found herself unable to look away, watching with an impressed amusement as the girl sat atop the shoulders of the largest vampire – the other apparently no longer in the land of the undead. The vampire bent and bucked in all directions as it tried to dislodge its attacker, but Faith had its chain wrapped tightly around its neck, her dangling legs drumming against its chest as she rode it like an animal. Faith caught her look, and her smile dimmed, one hand leaving the chain as she pointed at Buffy. "B, look out!"

Buffy hadn't forgotten about the final vampire, but distracted by Faith's antics she hadn't heard it get so close either. As she turned, she automatically brought her hands up to defend herself, but Morticia had another idea in mind, and the front of its knee-high boot ploughed straight into Buffy's shin. The pain that shot through her leg suggested the boot was of the steel toe variety, and having been caught off guard already she then made the mistake of bending to comfort her leg. That did little more than leave the vampire with another opening, and its solid uppercut landed right under her chin.

Knocked back hard, she gave up a couple of yards before managing to steady herself. The earlier smile hadn't budged from her face. "OK, so you've got a few moves," she admitted, not in the least bit concerned. "That's good. Honestly, I'd have been disappointed if I didn't have to work for this."

As they locked horns again, Buffy rocked the vampire back and forth, a relentless series of alternating fists offering it little opportunity to respond or retreat. Every time it did manage to throw a punch of its own, Buffy was equal to it, ducking or dodging out of the way without breaking her rhythm. Perhaps in a move of desperation, it puts its heavy boots to good use again, this time stomping straight down on Buffy's foot. The shoe proved durable enough to keep her toes in one piece, but Buffy glanced down to find a large wrinkled contour now etched in the top of the material. "Do you have any idea how many weeks of allowance these things cost me?" she accused it, her wide, unblinking eyes glaring at the creature with venom.

"They look pretty cheap to me," the vampire returned, tossing its head back to send its loose hair behind its shoulders.

"Oh you did not just go there. I'll have you know this is real leather. And you see this right here?" Buffy asked, pointing to the toe of her shoe. The vampire's gaze followed her finger, and Buffy flung her leg up, her toe catching it square on the chin, and that time the vampire was the one to stagger back. "They may not be steel-capped, but put a little oomph behind it and they'll still get the job down."

The vampire lunged forward with a feral scream, fangs bared. Long nails at the end of clawed fingers swiped toward her face, but Buffy reacted quickly to deflect each swing before it could connect, and after fending off the barrage she retaliated by bringing a high-arcing axe kick down on its shoulder. Already forced to its knees, the vampire couldn't escape the follow-up roundhouse kick from connecting with the side of its head, and it dropped flat on its stomach with a groan.

Buffy stepped closer only to have her legs pulled out from under her. With both of them down on the floor, the vampire pounced from its prone position to land on top of her, but Buffy used the momentum to roll through, coming out on top and pinning it to the ground. With a satisfied smile firmly placed on her face, she brought the stake down and wedged it through the vampire's heart.

She stood and turned to find Faith trading blows with the largest of the vampires, each of them stubbornly refusing to be moved an inch as fists swung into their faces. "Faith," Buffy called out before running straight at the pair. Faith jumped back as the vampire swung out, and she quickly rotated to her side, holding her hands down to form a small perch. Buffy stepped up, and with the additional boost from Faith she sprung high into the air. Her legs wrapped around the neck of the brute, her ankles locking together behind its head.

As Faith aimed a volley of kicks across its chest, Buffy kept her thighs pressed hard against its head, waiting for Faith's attacks to send it off balance before throwing herself backward. Despite its size advantage, it flipped straight over her, landing flat on its back with a grunt. Buffy quickly jumped to her feet, spinning in time to watch Faith send it to the next world.

Faith held up her palm and Buffy met her high five with an energetic slap that would have stung the hand of any ordinary human. "Damn, we're good," Faith said as she stretched back her shoulders. "So, you still gonna try telling me you could live without this?"

Buffy was already down on the floor trying her best to resuscitate the top of her damaged shoe. Her eyes rolled up to look at Faith's knowing grin, and while she wouldn't give Faith the satisfaction of hearing her admission, she wasn't about to deny it either. The energy still buzzed through her, electrifying the blood that pushed through her body. Her heart continued to pound, but not from fear or fatigue, but from need. From desire. Deciding her rescue mission was a lost cause, she slowy rose back up, Faith's eyes tracking her own as she did. The smile on Buffy's face grew wider still. It was late, she had class in the morning, and she already knew what the answer would be, but that didn't stop her from asking anyway. "Want to hit another one?"

Faith's enthused reply came without hesitation. "Hell yeah."

----------

"Yeah, but did you see his neck? That thing was a freaking tree trunk. He's gotta be worth at least two and a half," Faith insisted, her words coming out fast and full of energy. She walked backward, several steps ahead of Buffy, her eyes fixed on the other girl as she eagerly made her case.

"Oh he so was not," Buffy countered, shaking her head in disagreement. "One and three quarters. Tops. And besides, I helped with him, so I get half the points either way. Which means I still win," she finished in a sing-song voice.

"No way," Faith threw back instantly. "I totally had him where I wanted him."

They'd already hit two more cemeteries, and while each of them had been quieter than the first they'd still dusted another couple of vamps each. As they made their way through number four, Buffy was once more playfully digging for an admission that she had won their impromptu competition. Despite the multiple attempts, Faith still refused to give it, though mostly on the grounds that Buffy's continued insistence proved far too entertaining.

"Say it," Buffy prodded again, switching to a new tactic that involved widened doe eyes and small, pouting lips.

"That's not gonna work," Faith warned, trying her best to ignore Buffy's soft, expecting features without giving in or looking away. She managed to hold out for several long seconds before Buffy's pout morphed away as her lips grew outward. "Now what are you grinning at?" Faith asked, finding herself amused by the seemingly endless stack of pep Buffy had on display.

"Nothing."

"Just got some kind of uncontrollable mouth spasm issues going on then?" she teased, smirking a little at the blonde oddity.

"I just like seeing you this way."

"You mean kicking vampire ass? Because I'm at this seven nights a week, and viewers are always welcome. Ask real nice and maybe I'll even knock you up a home video."

"Happy," Buffy stated simply.

Faith didn't have an immediate response for that, sarcastic or otherwise, and as her thoughts were funnelled to coming up with one she had to bring herself to a halt before she ended up tripping over something. After closing the gap Buffy did the same, her wide grin retracting some way. "You think I'm usually not?" Faith asked cautiously, buying herself a little extra thinking time. She had no desire to lock Buffy out for a second night in a row, but given that the girl already had plans for a date with some guy, she doubted that the one thing she desperately wanted to say would earn her the reaction she craved even more.

Even Buffy's shrug seemed unsure of itself. "Sometimes."

"I'm fine, B. Really." Faith knew that wouldn't be enough to close the discussion. She'd seen Buffy's perseverance first hand when she'd been dragged back from way over the edge, only this time she doubted it would work in her favour.

"You didn't seem fine when you told me to leave last night. And I'm sorry, but I can't help but think either something's wrong with you... or there's something wrong with us?"

"No," Faith said firmly, wanting to quell the unease that had slipped into Buffy's voice. They'd become close friends, and she valued that more than anything else in her life, past or present. She knew that friendship would have to be enough for her, and given time maybe she could learn to live with that, but sometimes the things Buffy said and did, the way she seemed to care so much, it only fed her desire for something more.

Maybe that's just what friends did, she'd tell herself, never having had any real frame of reference. She already knew how compassionate Buffy could be, suspecting that was one of the reasons she and just about everyone else could be drawn to the girl so easily. None of that reasoning made it any less painful though, and the fact that being around Buffy could make her feel so good and yet so hopeless at the same time could sometimes be too much to handle. Even right then, just being stood so agonisingly close, it took a ten foot tall stack of self restraint not to let her lips close the gap completely.

"Are you sure? Because I'd understand if you didn't feel comfortable around me after what happened."

"B, I know the difference between the real you and some whacked-out version," Faith assured her.

"But you don't want to tell me what's wrong?"

I do, Faith thought to herself; I really, really do. Instead she stayed quiet, unsure of what she could possibly say to ease Buffy's worries. Unable to keep her eyes on Buffy's tender face, she turned her head, pretending to find something of interest amongst the otherwise empty rows of gravestones.

"I'd never force you to tell me things you're not ready to," Buffy offered gently after Faith didn't respond for some time. "I just want to make sure you know that if there is something going on, if there's ever anything wrong, or if there's ever something you need, that I'll be right here."

"Might get a little cold out here after a while, B," Faith said, trying to distance herself from the situation with an injection of humour that she herself couldn't even appreciate.

"You know what I mean," Buffy persisted through a small smile.

And that was the problem in a nutshell, Faith realized. Buffy never seemed ready to give up on her, and that gave her hope, making it ever-increasingly difficult to lock her feelings away. Sure, she could just blurt it all out. Get it out there and hope for the best. But the worst case scenario? She could lose the only thing that mattered, and that was not a risk she could bring herself to take. Maybe she'd always be a coward when it came to Buffy, but at least that way she'd still have something.

In the end she simply nodded in silence and offered Buffy as much of a smile as she could pull together, all the while secretly clinging on to the rest of her emotions.

With a brown paper bag in hand, filled with nothing more dangerous than a particularly pointed carrot, a middle-aged man stepped inside a run-down building from a back alleyway before kicking the door shut with the heel of his foot. After shifting a couple of steps to his side he pulled back the worn curtains, and the light from the rising sun quickly brightened the dingy room to show off the layers of dust that hovered across every surface. He turned to head for the back room and his heart jumped a mile, a number of his groceries moving almost as far as they were ejected out from the bag.

"Hello, Ethan."

If the voice hadn't already given away the identity of Ethan's unexpected guests, the trio of matching black leather jackets might have done the trick instead. Sat around a small, round table near one side of the room were three members of the council's special operations team.

It took only a couple of seconds for him to regain his composure, though his fast beating heart still had some catching up to do. "Collins. How thoughtful of you to drop by." He nodded down at his grocery bag. "Had I have known you lot were coming I'd have gotten in some Herbal Gray."

Collins, who sat directly across from the only remaining empty chair, spoke up first. "We're not here for drinks."

"No?" Ethan moved over to a stained cupboard. He pulled down the door, placed the bag with the remaining groceries down on the ledge, and lifted out a small bottle of whiskey. "Not even a little drop?" he asked, holding the bottle by the neck as he gave it an enticing shake.

"I wouldn't say no," said Weatherby before taking a long drag on his cigarette and letting the smoke blow across the room.

"Wonderful," Ethan said enthusiastically. Reaching into the cupboard, he collected together four tumblers with his free hand. He moved over to the table around which the council's special operations team had made themselves at home, placing the four glasses down and quickly pouring a few shots worth of the alcohol into each one. After taking one glass for himself, he sat down in the free chair and allowed himself a few moments to get comfortable. "And so to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Collins spoke up first. "We're just here to make sure everything is running smoothly."

"Well isn't that sweet," Ethan drawled. "I do have a phone though. No need for the three of you to have to travel all the way out here on my account."

Collins leant in over the table, his voice quietening conspiratorially. "Truth be told, the council have some concerns with the way you're going about taking care of the Slayer."

"Do they now?" Ethan leant back, putting back the space between himself and Collins. He casually crossed one leg over his knee before taking a small sip of his drink.

"You're working with demons," Weatherby butted in, getting straight to the real point. "It's disgusting."

"I wouldn't exactly say working with," Ethan responded calmly, "but I do find that in my line of work it pays to network. There's nothing to worry about though, I assure you. Everything is under complete control."

"That's where we'll have to disagree," Collins said, his manner much more diplomatic than the other council member. "What happens if these demons take out both Slayers, hmm? By the time the next one is ready for duty there could be hell on earth."

"Very dramatic," Ethan said before pausing. "And perhaps not all that far from the truth if these demons have their way. I'll let you in on a little secret though." He slowly tilted his glass, letting the dark liquid run around the edge. "It would seem the council aren't the only ones with an interest in demonic activity these days. The government are down here running some little Sunnydale clean-up operation. Once the Slayer – or indeed Slayers – are gone, I'll make sure they get to know about our little green skinned visitors, and then they can take care of the rest."

"You want to let someone else do your work for you? Again?" Weatherby didn't look at all convinced, his face scrunched up into a sneer. "The council should've never hired you in the first place."

"And with you three clowns on the payroll I can't even begin to imagine why they'd ever need to."

"Clowns?" Weatherby pulled back his coat to reveal a discrete handgun poking out from an inside pocket. "Maybe we should show you just what it is they pay us for."

A sly grin crossed Ethan's face. "I'd think twice before reaching for that. Those glasses you're all drinking from are hexed. A few choice words and you'll be finishing out your days pestering me for catnip. And I've never been all that fond of cats." He frowned to himself, his eyes rolling up. "Not really sure why that is," he finished thoughtfully.

Smith, who had yet to say a word, stared at the small glass tucked between his fingers, looking very much like the contents of his stomach were about to be forcefully evicted from the premises. Weatherby's glass dropped from his hand, the liquid spilling out as the glass hit the table, and it continued onward, rolling off the edge to the floor.

"Now there's no need for that," Collins said, sounding unperturbed. His face stayed even, his features giving nothing away, but even he was quick to place his unfinished drink down on the table. "We're all friends here."

"Quite," said Ethan. He downed the remainder of his drink in one long gulp before placing the empty glass back on the table. "Well gentleman, it's been absolutely wonderful catching up." He got to his feet and started walking toward the back room. "Feel free to let yourselves out. And chaps?" He looked back over his shoulder and smirked at a furious-looking Weatherby. "Make sure Quentin has my rather large payment ready."

----------

"Really?" Buffy asked, unsure if she had misunderstood or if Giles had finally lost his mind completely. After all, she figured one too many knocks on the head had to have some kind of a long term effect on a person's mental health.

"Really," Giles confirmed.

"Really really?" Buffy turned to Faith for back up, but the girl gave a casual shrug, clearly not sharing her own sense of dread.

"It's only a shop," Giles defended.

"You remember when I snuck off to a frat party and almost ended up as snake food? This is a worse idea."

"Th-There's space to store my books, there's room to train you and Faith in the back, and despite what you may think, I don't have an endless supply of money growing in my bank account."

"But you can afford this place?" Buffy challenged, ignoring the pointed and rising tone from an increasingly irate Giles.

"It's – it's an investment."

"I think it's cool," Willow interrupted before Buffy could speak up again. She seemed much more optimistic, the fact made clear by the large grin on her face. "It'll be like our own bat cave, only, you know, above ground... and not particularly secret... and hopefully without any bats."

"At least until one of us gets turned into one," Buffy wisecracked.

Giles sighed loudly before stepping in through the front door.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry," Buffy said, quickly following him inside. "I just wanted to reserve the right to say I told you so later, but now I'm completely supporto-girl. I think it's great that you're getting out of the house."

"I'm touched," Giles grumbled dryly as his eyes scanned over the room.

Buffy followed suit, looking around the interior of the building. It seemed darker and mustier than when she'd last come by; she knew Giles would feel right at home. He hadn't exaggerated about the space either. In case the shop floor and an adjoining back room weren't already enough, an upper floor balcony contained rows of bookshelves that stood just waiting to be stacked to the brim.

Willow had wasted little time getting to know the place, already rooting through what Buffy assumed must have been leftover stock from the previous owner. "This is so cool," she said, repeating her earlier sentiment. "How amazing will it be to have all these books and ingredients at our fingertips?" She stopped pawing through a row of books on the shop floor and glanced up at Giles from down on her knees. There is a friends and family discount, right?" She smiled hopefully and eagerly nodded her head in encouragement.

"Of course, Willow. Just so long as you're being careful."

"Absolutely."

As Willow returned to her eager browsing, Buffy turned her attention to Faith, who looked neither particularly interested nor entirely unimpressed with the event, instead seemingly content to just stand there as if waiting for something more exciting to happen. "Hey. You OK?" Buffy asked, knocking a hand against her arm to draw her attention.

"Sure," Faith offered, looking her way.

"You've been awfully quiet this morning. And while on one hand the distinct lack of sarcasm is somewhat refreshing, it's also really kind of unsettling. No offence."

"Still waking up," Faith explained. "And if I'd known what you were dragging me out of bed for, I wouldn't be having that problem for a few more hours."

"Giles said he had news," Buffy said, more than willing to pass the blame for Friday's early start. "I figured he meant about the slightly more pressing issue of the thing that tried to kill us both," she said, turning to raise her eyebrows at Giles.

"O-Of course that was the second thing I wanted to speak to you both about," he said in his defence. "All of you in fact, though apparently Xander is going to be late." He pushed back the sleeve of his shirt to take a look at his watch.

"Still a little too early for the unemployed to rise," Buffy guessed.

"Lucky them," Faith complained, and Buffy gave her an ample dose of side eye.

"And Oz is out of town on guitar duty," Willow supplied.

"Right then, well there's no harm in starting without them." Having already paced his way around the room and ended up behind the shop counter, Giles slowly ran his palms outward either side of the cash register while Buffy waited patiently for him to continue. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and his head bobbed up and down in approval. Approval of what exactly, Buffy had no idea.

"Giles?" she prompted, watching him with a mild amusement.

He cleared his throat, his hands slinking down to hide behind the counter. "I thought that perhaps we could spend the day looking through the books for the thing that tried to kill you both. The more eyes we get on this the sooner we can narrow down the suspects."

"OK," Buffy agreed, "but aren't they all still boxed up back at your apartment? The books that is, not the suspects; though that would be pretty handy."

"Aah, well that would be the third thing," he said, offering up a tentative smile that came attached with a hint of guilt.

Faith let out a loud groan of disapproval whilst Buffy merely rolled her eyes. Lifting, carrying, and unpacking – three things she did not want to spend her college-free morning doing.

----------

Faith had continued to help throughout the day, and even as the evening drew to a close she still found herself trawling through page after page of text. Every now and then she'd shoot a glance across the table at Buffy, each time remaining careful not to let her eyes linger on the other Slayer for too long. She knew she wasn't doing herself any favours by reminding herself of the other girl's presence every five minutes, but Giles' new magic shop didn't contain anything else quite so easy on the eye.

She hadn't known it at the time, but helping Giles fill his bookshelves had been the highlight of an excruciatingly dull day. As she stole one more glance, she knew she wasn't the only one who thought so either; Buffy looked just as bored as she felt. Her head laid perched on its side atop of her held up palm, and she looked much more likely to fall asleep than find anything in the book that her glossed-over eyes were loosely focused on.

The way the small, cute pout on her face seemed to admonish the book made Faith's lips curl upward, and she wondered if Buffy even knew she was forming the look. Faith made the mistake of letting her gaze dawdle a little too long as she contemplated that question, and Buffy's eyes flicked her way, briefly catching her own. Quickly Faith cast her eyes back down to the book, and she started reading with a renewed interest.

At first it seemed she'd acted fast enough to avoid being caught, but after a few seconds Buffy's questioning voice suggested otherwise. "What?"

"Huh?" Faith replied innocently, content to meet a vague question with an equally so answer, and she looked back up to find Buffy regarding her curiously. She had to work hard to keep herself from fidgeting as she continued to meet Buffy's gaze.

"How's it going?" Buffy asked after watching her for a few moments.

"Fine," Faith returned a little too immediately, and Buffy raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh, the research?" Faith added, realisation setting in. "Sure, umm, nowhere really. Yours?"

"That would also be of the nowhere. Scoring a big fat zero here in Buffyville."

"Well the Sun's down. We could always go find something a little more action-packed to do?" Faith suggested, more than happy to go for another night of slaying alongside Buffy.

"Sorry, can't. I have plans. Speaking of which, I should probably go home and change first."

"Oh. Yeah, sure, no worries." Faith thought she had managed to sound indifferent enough, but she threw in a lazy shrug just in case. It wasn't that she'd forgotten that Buffy had plans for Friday night; more that she'd hoped Buffy might have.

"You could come if you want?" Buffy offered. "I'm sure there'll be room for one more."

If there was one thing Faith would rather not do than sit reading a never-ending stream of demon books, and there pretty much was only the one thing, then it would be to sit there watching Buffy making googly eyes at some guy all night. "Think I'll pass."

"OK." Buffy stood from the table, and Giles' head rose to look her way. "Gotta go," she told him simply.

"What? Now?" he asked, sounding a little put out, and Faith silently willed him to refuse the request.

"Sorry, I have a thing."

"A thing?" Giles asked.

"She means date," Faith interrupted, knowing full well that she risked sounding bitter.

"I do not mean date," Buffy stressed, and Faith found herself being shot a quick scowl before Buffy's attention returned to Giles. "It's just a... gathering."

"You mean like an orgy?" Xander asked with a scary amount of excitement.

"Xander, really?" Buffy returned, looking more than a little disgusted. "How did you even... never mind, I don't want to know what goes on in your brain," she finished, shaking her head.

"Err, yes, well, whatever it may be, can it not wait until another time?" Giles managed to get out through his embarrassment. "What happened to the more pressing issue?"

"You guys are great at this stuff. You don't need me. Besides, Faith can stay and help. She has totally got the team-Slayer research side covered."

"No way," Faith said instantly, and she noticed Buffy's hopeful smile falter. "Sorry, B, I'm with Giles. Unknown evil seems way more important than a date."

"Come on, Faith. Please?" Buffy stared imploringly at her, and the puppy dog eyes and pouted lips proved to be enough of a bargaining chip. Faith desperately wanted to stick to her guns, but she already felt a little guilty for trying to ruin Buffy's plans for her own sake, and Buffy's pleading look alone would already have been enough to tip the scales. In the end she could do nothing more than yield with a loud sigh. "Fine. I'll stay for the long haul. You go get comfortable with captain excitement."

"Thank you. And I'll totally make it up to you," Buffy promised, not taking Faith's bait.

Buffy's thanks may have been earnest, but it wasn't exactly enough to make Faith giddy with joy. "Doubt it," she muttered under her breath, but Buffy didn't appear to hear, already looking back to Giles for a final confirmation.

"Very well," he conceded, sharing Faith's own level of enthusiasm. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." She threw Faith an apologetic smile before heading for the exit.

"Oh hey, that reminds me, I have a thing too," Xander said suddenly, shooting to his feet.

"Sit down," Giles ordered firmly without even looking up, and Xander dropped straight back down with a sigh.

"That is so not fair," he grumbled.

Faith didn't disagree with the statement, albeit for a much different reason. Her head slumped down on to her folded arms the moment Buffy vanished through the door. "Idiot," she complained into the table, referring primarily to herself.

----------

Buffy sat nestled at one side of an otherwise empty couch, her legs curled up beside her, and she absently sipped through a straw at the fruity concoction balanced precariously on the arm of the chair. There weren't more than a dozen people present, but she had still shied away from the focal point of the gathering, finding that after arriving she couldn't really get herself into a more sociable spirit. Instead she wondered if she should have tried harder to get Faith to come along. The girl had seemed a little down as of late, even if she didn't seem ready to admit it, and Buffy regretted leaving her behind whilst she was out trying to enjoy herself. If Faith had come then maybe Buffy would even have managed that feat, she realized, though it was a little too late for that particular insight to be of any use.

Instead her dull day continued on into the night, and the strong alcohol she could taste in the cocktail only hastened her desire to simply curl up into a small ball and disappear down the back of the couch until she could go home. It seemed to be going straight to her head, but she continued to drink for the lack of anything better to do. With the contents of the glass nearly gone, she started trying to think up a good excuse to leave early, though even that seemed to require too much focus for her very much unfocused state of mind. Before she could come up with anything more original than having left her curling wand plugged in, Jacob sat down beside her, placing an empty pint glass down on the low table in front of them.

"You really are new to this whole partying thing, aren't you?" he said.

"Sorry." Buffy smiled apologetically. "I was just thinking. Or at least trying to." She rubbed the tips of her fingers on her forehead, trying to trigger a new lease of life in her brain.

"Not about a college paper or anything I hope. This is a Friday night after all."

"No. Just Faith," Buffy said, her words quickly leading her to wonder if she'd even mentioned Faith to him. Obviously she wouldn't have discussed certain details about her, but she figured she might have mentioned the name in passing. She couldn't really remember either way. "She's a friend," she clarified just in case.

"I know who she is. And spending your night worrying about her won't do her any good. Let's face it, she could be dead in a matter of days."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed absently. When the words finally sunk in she shot him a disapproving look. "What? If I was supposed to find that funny, you must be new to this whole humour thing," she said snarkily, angered by the unnecessary joke.

"Of course that's still a few more days than you've got," Jacob continued.

It seemed to be taking her a while to process anything, and as that thought dawned on her she knew that something was seriously wrong. She stood up, her fingers releasing their hold on her glass and letting it fall to the floor. Blood rushed straight to her head, dizzying her instantly. Her hands shot out, barely managing to keep her steady. Maybe the sudden movement had jump-started it, or maybe she simply hadn't noticed it until then, but her arms were jittering. So were her legs. In fact her whole body shook uncontrollably. "What did you do?"

"I drugged your drink," he replied casually, still leaning back against the couch. "I figured with you being a Slayer it'd need to be a pretty big dose. Hope it doesn't kill you outright though. I have this whole sacrifice bit planned for later, but if I'm honest you're not looking too swell."

"No," Buffy murmured, trying to straighten out her thoughts. She spun several times until she set her eyes on what she thought might have been the way she'd come in. She'd only managed about two steps before Jacob's hand landed on her arm, and she shrugged him off before kicking out to send him into and over the arm of the sofa. The move took her off balance, and she fell back awkwardly, twisting her knee as she went down. Even pain didn't seem to be fully registering, something for which she might have been more thankful in different circumstances, and so she hauled herself back to her feet, needing to push herself up off the table to manage the simple feat.

One of the other party guests ran straight for her, and she pulled together enough of her remaining instincts to react. Kicking low, she knocked his ankle from the floor and his arms flailed in the air as he left his feet. Her vision continued to cloud with each passing second, and she could tell she didn't have much time left. Forcing her limbs to move as quickly as she could manage, she reached the door, needing several attempts before her hand successfully found its way around the handle. Almost falling out into the hallway, she looked in both directions, desperately trying to think which way she should be going. Her mind felt so uselessly empty, each and every thought hanging frustratingly out of reach. Unable to see more than three feet in front of her, she took a wild guess, turning left and hoping for the best. She lumbered forward, her legs threatening to give way. Her hand moved to her face, wiping away the sweat forming on her brow. She was so hot. So dizzy.

Another step forward. She heard voices. Maybe from up ahead. "Help," she shouted. "Somebody help." Her words echoed throughout both the corridor and her own head, and she barely recognised her own voice. One more step, she willed herself. Just one more step.

But her shaky legs couldn't hold out any longer, and she collapsed straight down in a heap. She didn't have the wherewithal to keep the side of her head from crunching against the hard floor, and the force of the impact sucked away the last of her energy, her eyes finally surrendering to the drugs.

"A little tip from an expert," Xander said, drawing Faith's attention. He casually slouched back into his chair, his neck resting against his hands. "The covers are a great place to begin, but when you open up the books, that's where they hide the really good stuff." A warning look out the corner of Faith's eyes was all it took before he quickly backtracked, his confident posture melting away. "Or you could just carry on doing it your way." He quickly busied himself with his own book, suddenly paying it an awful lot of attention.

Almost another three hours had passed, sat in the magic-shop come library come detention centre, filling in so Buffy could go screw some loser, Faith thought. It's not that she was bitter; she just wondered what the hell she'd been thinking. She shoved the closed book away in disgust, and it stopped just short of sliding straight off the table, coming to rest alongside the numerous others she'd quickly become sick of. OK, so maybe a little bitter.

Her sigh must have been louder than intended as Giles was looking her way from an adjacent table. "Everything OK?"

"Great," she said, before muttering under her breath, "just freaking wonderful."

"Uh-oh," Willow uttered from nearby.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" Giles asked, watching Faith carefully through his glasses.

"Err, guys," Willow said more loudly, that time catching the attention of the group. "Uh-oh?" She shook the book laid in front of her, and Giles quickly made his way to peer over her shoulder.

"I've seen this marking before," she said, pointing out a finger. Faith watched them with minimal interest, not caring enough to go and see what they were looking at.

"The mark of Shek K'zar," Giles said, his eyes shifting back and forth as he read the page. "Where?"

"Jacob. He had it on his shoulder."

"Who's Jacob?" Giles asked, his puzzled look focusing in on Willow.

Willow's eyebrows lowered, and a glum look spread over her face. "Buffy's party host."

Faith perked up instantly, her heart giving a small jump. "He's evil?" she asked, her excited tone drawing questioning looks from everyone in the room. "I mean... that's... damn." She brought her fist down across the table, but struggled to keep her lips from flickering upward.

Giles continued to stare at her for a short time, and then he shot to life, moving swiftly for the shop counter. "We have to warn her right away."

"Chill, Giles. I'm pretty sure B can handle some chump on her own. The guy's probably down and out already."

"Unless he's not working alone." Giles' index finger prodded at the buttons on the shop's telephone. Faith watched him as they all waited, her smile wavering more and more as Giles stood in silence. "Blast it. She's not answering."

Up on her feet, Faith's eyes bore into Willow. "Address," she demanded.

"Umm, Buffy said he lived out past Jefferson Hall on..." Her brow furrowed and she quietened for a moment.

"Willow!" Faith pressed.

"I'm thinking."

"Think faster."

"Ooh, on 34th street," Willow all but shouted, her hands coming up excitedly.

"Got it." Faith grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair and began to slip it on as she headed straight for the exit.

"Wait," Giles called after her. "It might be best if we all go. We don't know exactly who or what we'll be dealing with."

While that might have been true, she wasn't about to risk letting anyone slow her down. "I'll meet you there," she replied over the small bell that rang out as she pushed through the front door.

----------

As she moved swiftly along the corridor, Faith kept an ear out as she passed each apartment. The building seemed suspiciously quiet in general, though that only made the combination of multiple voices behind one particular door stand out distinctly. Not waiting to find out if they said anything telling, or even bothering to try the handle, she thrust her foot out with enough force to take it straight from its hinges. If it happened that it had belonged to some ordinary, everyday students – well, not really her problem. She marched in, stepping straight across the downed door.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the occupants asked, getting to his feet from a three seater sofa, one of several chairs that surrounded a wide, low table filled with various bottles, glasses and snacks. Quiet background music, a handful of people, and a serious lack of a dance floor; not what she'd personally class as a party, but it seemed like the place.

"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just looking for someone. Blonde chick. Short. Cute. Kinda hard to overlook." She shrugged, casting her eyes over the remaining males that sat staring at her in confusion. "Unless this is a boys only club, if you catch my drift."

The guy who had gotten to his feet swaggered straight up to her, his wide grin oozing with confidence, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath when he brought his head close. "You're too late. She's already dead."

"Yeah?" Faith asked. "Huh." She looked up in thought for just a second, and then her arm shot out, grabbing hold of a generous handful of hair. Leaving him with no time to protest, she mercilessly drove his forehead into the wall beside the open doorway, hard enough to elicit a wail of pain that easily drowned out the preceding thud. "Wanna try that again, or do I need to get violent?"

The rest of the group – four more in total – were all quickly to their feet and heading her way. Not that they would have stood a chance on a typical day, but Faith had neither the time nor the patience to play nice. She tossed her current captive to the floor before stepping forward and unleashing a torrent of kicks and punches across the group. While she didn't put her full strength behind the attacks, each and every one hit its mark, and in only a matter of seconds unconscious body's were strewn across the chairs and floor.

Having not learnt his lesson, the original welcoming committee swung a large, glass bottle toward her head, but she had to do nothing more than lean to the side to avoid the contact. First she brought his stretched out arm down across her knee, and then after the bottle spun from his hand she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him down on to the table. He landed back first, knocking bottles and glasses aside and sending the contents of a large bowl of chips catapulting across the room. Keeping him pressed in place by his neck, she leaned close. "One more time – where's Buffy?" she demanded.

"Go to hell," he replied before the grin crept back over his face. "That's where she'll be."

Faith's eyes narrowed for just a moment, but then slackened again as she gave an understanding nod. If he wanted to play games, then they could play games, she decided. Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out her stake. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to tell me where she is, or I'm going to show you what I can do with this," she said, her voice remaining far more calm than she felt. She had no proof that Buffy would still be fine, but she tried not to consider the alternatives.

"I'm not a vampire."

"Wasn't gonna aim for the heart." Still holding him in place with one hand, she used the other to dangle the weapon down over his face, letting the tip sway back and forth straight across his left eye.

"You're bluffing," he said.

His thinning voice didn't carry the same certainty as his words, and Faith's mouth crept into a small, sly smile. "But that's the thing. I'm in a bit of a conundrum right now, and I know we've just met but maybe you can help me out here. You see, I'm trying to move on, trying to start over, and I'm thinking killing someone else would really put a dampener on that. But on the other hand, I'm already screwed up. Probably always will be – a girl can't change her stripes and all that. So the way I'm looking at it, if I don't get to see what I want, you don't get to see what you want. Fair is fair, right?"

As the stake moved down, he quickly closed his eyes. She applied the smallest amount of pressure, the tip of the stake pressing over his eyelid, and a desperate whimper gurgled from his throat. "What was that?" she asked, tilting her head to bring her ear closer to his mouth. "Don't be shy, tough guy; I'm really eager to hear what you've got to say."

Faith saw his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed. "S-s-she's in the basement. D-down the hall."

The fear in his shaky voice and the tears beginning to descend from his closed eyes gave her more than enough confirmation. "See, now that wasn't so hard."

His mouth opened, but Faith's fast-moving fist sent him into a slack-jawed slumber before he could utter a sound, and his limbs slumped down to hang over the edges of the table.

----------

For the second time in recent weeks Buffy found herself waking up somewhere completely different to where she'd lost consciousness. She didn't particularly appreciate either one, but the first time had definitely been more comfortable. As it stood, her arms hung helplessly above her, the thick, iron chains wrapped around her wrists keeping them raised, and a pair of ropes tied tightly around her ankles and knees kept her legs firmly pressed together. All in all, she'd been left with little scope for any significant movement.

A pair of long, cuboid lights ran in parallel overhead, offering the only source of light in the windowless room. The closest of the two occasionally flickered on and off, generating an annoying clicking noise as it did so. The mould growing around the edge of the ceiling had left the air smelling dank. Bare, brick walls and a concrete floor did little to hold any warmth in, and that may have been part of the reason Buffy found herself releasing a shiver.

The other part had more to do with the sight in front of her. Jacob had turned the table to her side into some sort of altar. A series of bones had been placed around the edge, and she watched as he finished lighting the last of four large candles stood in-between. The creepy set-up looked at odds to the frilly, white tablecloth that lay underneath, giving Buffy a temporary pause.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He took his time to respond, first shaking his match until the flame went out and then idly tossing it to the floor before turning to face her. "Just someone interested in helping bring along a new age."

"What, the age of psychopathy? If it's all the same to you I think I'll just hold out for the new millennium."

"Ah, well I'm afraid you won't be around to see either one. It's nothing personal though. In fact I've been watching you and Faith for some time now, and I have to say I'm glad it's you here. You seem a little more – what's the word – grounded than the other one."

"And I'm flattered, really," Buffy began whilst she pulled at the chains, trying to loosen them from the wall with no tangible result. "But you shouldn't overlook Faith. She's actually quite nice once you get to know her. I could give her a call for you. Set something up?"

"Oh no, it would be rude of me not to finish now," he replied casually before turning his attention back to the altar. His hand disappeared down into a dark grey rucksack sat by the side of the table, and he pulled out a tall, brass goblet, taking his time to carefully position it dead centre. Two more times he reached into the bag, producing first a clear bottle that contained a substance that looked very much like blood, and then Buffy's eyes widened as he pulled out a short, serrated knife.

"I don't remember that being on the UC Sunnydale recommended inventory list," she said, unwilling to let her worry slide into her voice.

"Probably not, but then I doubt it mentioned stakes and holy water either. Besides, I'd say my work there is done, and I find the place a little bland to be honest. This town has its uses though. To think we wasted months trying to open the portal in Santa Barbara and all that time there was enough mystical energy to open a thousand portals a couple of hours away."

"Big with the magic, huh? This is just a hunch, but I don't suppose you were the one messing with our heads by any chance?"

A small, seemingly mocking laugh left his throat. "Me? I wish I had that kind of power. I did my part though. Getting close to you was enough. She needed a link – someone to channel through – as she couldn't exactly stroll onto campus without drawing a bit of attention. The three of them don't really blend in that well; trench coats and shades not really going to cut it."

It wasn't the answer Buffy had expected, but she was more concerned with stalling, and in that respect she'd gotten what she wanted. He had stopped pouring the liquid into the goblet and given her his full attention again.

"And how'd they get to Faith? You've never met her."

"I had someone follow her home. He didn't even have to get that close. I'm told her mind was all over the place. Fractured was the word they used. Apparently that makes getting in easier." He moved closer, smiling at her. "Not that you held out for long either. Or maybe you just really wanted to give her a good beating."

Buffy's fists clenched and she pulled angrily at her chains, the loud clanging and sudden movement causing him to visibly jump. "That was nothing compared to the beating she's going to give you when she gets here," Buffy warned sinisterly.

He smirked back at her. "You don't honestly think she's going to come, do you? After what you did, I'm betting deep down she'd be pleased to have you gone."

"I guess we'll see about that," she shot back defiantly, keeping up the brave façade. While she truly didn't believe Faith would voluntarily leave her hanging, so to speak, she was also well aware that nobody would be expecting her.

"I guess we will," he said before returning to the table. Buffy started to scan the room, though the bare area offered nothing that could help her, even if she could have actually moved anywhere. As her eyes reached the stairwell they lit up, and she breathed a sigh of relief, her fear evaporating in a second.

"Well I was wrong, B; the guy's definitely not boring. This is some pretty kinky stuff you two've got going on."

"Is now really the time?" Buffy asked, her voice rising all the way.

Faith wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, but then shot forward quickly when Jacob grabbed the knife from the table. He hadn't even managed to turn toward Buffy before she had him by his wrist, and she twisted hard until he gave a small yelp and let the blade fall from his hand. "Come on now, when are guys gonna learn there's no sacrifice on the first date?"

"Still not a date," Buffy chimed in. She hadn't noticed until it was too late, but Jacob's free hand had crept its way around the half-filled goblet, and he threw the contents straight in Faith's face.

Both her hands shot up to try and push the layer of thick, red gloop away. "Son of a-"

"Faith, he's getting away!" Buffy shouted, and her chains jangled as she tried to free herself to help. At the speed Jacob was moving, he obviously knew his health depended on it.

"Little busy here, B." Faith rubbed at her eyes, and her face contorted in an impressive variety of ways as she tried to spit out the taste from her mouth. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Is it... blood?"

"Yeah."

Buffy winced, and Faith licked at the back of her hand before making another disapproving face. "He's all kinds of dead when I get my hands round his throat."

"Before we get to that, you think maybe we could do something about these chains? This really isn't as comfortable as it looks."

Faith ripped the tablecloth free from underneath the candles and bones, sending a good number of them rolling across the floor. She wiped it over her face a couple of times before discarding the stained material and casually strolling over to Buffy. She let her hand run down the chain before noisily sucking in a mouthful of air. "I dunno. What do you think it's worth?"

"How about I don't tell Giles you let a human get the drop on you?" Buffy offered sweetly.

Faith looked around both ways before shrugging. "Hey, I'm not the one chained to a wall." Buffy had barely finished narrowing her eyes when Faith U-turned. "Just messing, B. Chill... You know, I always thought you'd be a little more fun tied up."

Buffy gave a confused shake of her head. "What does that even-"

"Nothing," Faith interrupted. She yanked at one of the chains, offered Buffy a small, "huh," and then tried again. "Sturdy. Don't suppose you've got the key?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Try his bag."

After rummaging through the rucksack, tossing aside another bottle of blood, a four pack of beer, and a rolled up t-shirt, Faith held up a small, metal key. "Guess it's your lucky day."

A disbelieving laugh croaked from Buffy's throat. "Really not."

----------

"I thought you were going to sell that thing?"

"Was. Didn't."

"Oh." Buffy stood looking at Faith's motorcycle as if it might suddenly grow an array of limbs with which to attack her. The red, black and silver design may have looked sleek, but she considered that there was just something about the surrounding walls of a car that made her feel a whole lot more comfortable.

The two of them had ran into the rest of the gang after leaving the basement, only to find out that Jacob's group had already high-tailed it out of there. Giles had offered Buffy a lift home, but she had declined on the account of needing to talk to Faith about something. It was a decision she was currently regretting; his car may not have been the fastest moving thing in the world, but it did have those aforementioned walls.

"You getting on or what?"

Buffy took the helmet from Faith's held out hand. She looked it over, quickly decided that it didn't go with her outfit, but reluctantly pulled it over her head before cautiously mounting the seat.

The engine came to life, and suddenly unsure what she was supposed to do, Buffy tentatively wrapped her arms around Faith's waste, her hands lingering lost in the air for a short while before she allowed them to rest lightly against the girl's stomach. She felt she might be invading Faith's personal space, though the lack of a seatbelt didn't really leave her another safe option. If that was the case though then Faith didn't let it show.

"So when did you get your license?" Buffy asked, hoping some light conversation would make her feel a little less awkward.

"License?"

Her eyes slowly widened. "Oh God." It was too late for a change of heart, and her awkwardness was left in the dust as the vehicle shot forward. Her arms tightened around Faith's waist as she held on for dear life.

"I think there's a speed limit around here somewhere," Buffy said, raising her voice so she could be heard over the roar of the engine. It was an optimistic comment more than the imparting of any actual knowledge, and she couldn't spot a sign to back up her wish. Of course it would have been extremely easy to miss given how fast they passed the surrounding scenery. Buffy was quietly thankful that the roads were empty, at least barring the unfortunate and unsuspecting cat that ended up down one of its nine lives as it barely scrambled out the way.

"Wouldn't know," Faith shouted back, her complete lack of concern made evident when she barely slowed down to take the sudden right turn.

Thankfully the journey didn't last long, yet Buffy was still equal parts relieved and surprised to find herself in one piece when they pulled up outside the building to her dorm room. Though while Faith may have driven like a lunatic, Buffy did note that she'd also done so with a surprising amount of skill for someone who shouldn't technically have been on the road at all. Despite clinging to Faith as if she was hanging from the edge of a cliff, she realized she hadn't felt all that unsafe after the initial block or two. Or maybe three.

After dismounting and handing the helmet back, Buffy raked her fingers down through her hair, hoping to undo whatever damage it may have caused. She only stopped her primping when she caught sight of Faith's smirk in the side mirror. "What?" she asked innocently.

Faith simply shook her head. "Nothing. So are we Giles-ing tomorrow? I figure he'll be all kinds of desperate to spill some new info by then."

"Let's hope so," Buffy agreed. "Hey, but before you go, I just want to say thank you."

"Sure thing. It's on my way back anyhow."

"No, I mean for showing up before I got all hack and slashed."

"I wasn't exactly gonna leave you to those creeps."

Buffy hesitated for a moment, unsure whether it might be best to leave it at that, but she still felt a little guilty for ditching Faith. "I don't know why not," she said quietly. "You'd have every right to after I bailed on you."

"You're being a little harsh on yourself, B. Don't worry about it."

"But I did. All night in fact. I'm supposed to be your friend – I am your friend – and we're in this together. I shouldn't have taken off without you like that."

It was Faith's turn to hesitate. "Then why did you?" She didn't sound at all angry or bitter about it, though her smile slipped, leaving her looking much more sombre, and that had the result of making Buffy feel that little bit worse about herself.

"It's just – I guess ever since getting to Sunnydale I've never really fit in. And I know this probably sounds like some really lame excuse, but I thought college could be my chance to change that. I thought I could just be a normal girl sometimes, and I was so eager to go to a party or – or just go on one simple date. Maybe even make it through a whole week of lectures without some impending crisis getting in the way. But apparently I'm destined to be the freaky loner girl forever..."

Her voice trailed off. She was struggling to direct her words around to the point she wanted to make, and it was beginning to leave her feeling a little exasperated.

"Well if it helps any, you're a pretty awesome freaky loner girl."

"Gee, thanks," Buffy returned flatly, though she was left smiling and buoyed enough to try again. "The thing is, I realize now I was taking for granted the people I do have. I have Giles, and I have Willow and Xander." She offered Faith a hopeful smile. "And I felt more lonely tonight in a room full of people than I ever have when it's just you and me. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, you mean more to me than some guy or some stupid college party, and I really am sorry if I haven't always made that clear."

"Me too. I mean... you mean a lot to me as well."

Buffy smiled shyly in response. She'd expected some sort of backlash after her admission, or at the very least a stony reception, but instead she was left wondering how and when things had become so easy with Faith. Perhaps not always straight forward – no surprise given neither of their lives could honestly be described as that – but definitely something she could get used to. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You bet."

Buffy gave a small wave before heading toward her dorm building.

"Hey, B?"

"Yeah?" she asked, turning back to Faith.

"I really like your dress."

Buffy let out a laugh that was as short as it was happy. She glanced down and was pleased both that it seemed to be in one piece and that she'd managed to at least get one compliment on it that night. "Thank you, Faith."

“So let me get this straight,” Buffy began. Several weeks had passed since her unfortunate party experience which, along with giving Faith plenty of time to stop teasing her about it, had also afforded Giles ample opportunity to find out exactly what was going on in Sunnydale. She'd been given bits and pieces of speculation as he came across it, but he seemed to have saved the more in depth information up so he could bombard her with it in one giant overload.

She tried to sift through it, hoping to condense it into something that didn't need fifteen minutes of explanation time. The task might have been easier if it hadn't still been the early hours of the morning, though unlike another Slayer who would remain unnamed, Buffy had at least managed to roll out of bed on time. “A group of seriously bored magic guys come to Sunnydale to open a portal which summons three demons. They in turn want to open a bigger portal so that this Shrek--”

“Shek,” Giles corrected.

“Shek K'zar can bring his army to add our world to their ever growing collection of real-life snow globes.”

Giles gave a short nod. “I suppose that's about the gist of it, yes. Although it's not so much about a bigger portal as a more permanent one. To bend the fabrics of reality is challenging enough, but to do so over an extended period of time adds another level of complexity completely. Reality fights back, if you will; it – it tries to mend itself, to become whole again. I'd say it's likely the very reason the Hellmouth doesn't just spill open of its own accord.”

“OK, so chalk one up for reality. But we think these demons have what it takes to fight harder?”

“According to my research they've managed it before, numerous times in fact. There are even depictions which suggest they came to our plane back in the fifteen hundreds.”

“Right, and you said something about them being stopped? How?” Giles' initial response came only in the form of a creased forehead. “Giles?”

“It, emm, it appears it took an army.”

“An army?”

“The Knights of Byzantium to be specific.”

“Never head of them.”

“Nor had I, but their existence seems to date all the way back to ancient Greece. The order was initially formed to protect King Byzas and the inhabitants of the city of Byzantion from human threats, but as the centuries have passed their focus has shifted more toward the arcane.”

“Did any of your books happen to mention a contact number? You know, a sort of 'call in case of supernatural emergency'.”

“Sadly not.”

“So we're screwed then?” Buffy concluded pessimistically, her lower half disappearing under the table as she slouched down in her chair. If she needed a witch, Slayer, or werewolf then she was good to go, but an army? Not so much.

“Let's not abandon all hope just yet. The Knights of Byzantium were ultimately only humans. Trained to fight, yes, but they had no supernatural speed or strength, and in that department you and Faith have a distinct edge.” Giles frowned again and glanced around the room. “Speaking of which, where is Faith? We were scheduled for training this morning, but perhaps--”

At that moment the shop bell rung out, the girl in question arriving and offering a casual, “Yo,” in greeting.

“Ah, Faith. How are you today?” Giles asked.

“Five by five.”

“Good. I think. And I believe a happy birthday is in order.”

Faith's brow furrowed, and she rubbed at her arm, her gaze landing on the floor in between Buffy and Giles. “Yeah... thanks, I guess.”

Buffy frowned, looking first to Giles and then at Faith. “You didn't tell me it was your birthday.”

Faith shrugged as she met Buffy's eyes. “It's no big deal.”

“Oh it's completely a big deal. In fact, I'm calling for an emergency celebration at The Bronze tonight.”

“Yeah? Let me know how that turns out for you.”

“Come on, Faith,” Buffy whined. “It'll be fun, and I think we're about due huge dollops of that.” Faith continued to look unimpressed with the idea. “If it helps, there'll be no singing or banners. Promise.”

Faith sighed loudly. “Fine, whatever. I'm gonna go change.”

She vanished to the back room with her rucksack, leaving Buffy and Giles alone again.

“She told you?” Buffy asked the second the door swung shut. She felt thrown, even a little hurt, that Faith had mentioned the fact to Giles but not her.

“Hmm?” Giles looked at her for a moment before continuing. “Oh right. No, it's listed in her file.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, instantly brightening a little, “well that's OK then.” As his words sunk in her interest quickly piqued. “Wait. Did you say file?”

“Yes. When Wesley first arrived he brought the notes made by Faith's former watcher, and once he was let go by the council he left without taking them. I thought that if I were to work with Faith then it would be a good idea to take a look.”

Her lips very slowly pursed, her eyes widening slightly as her gaze locked on Giles.

“Absolutely not,” he said instantly, before she'd so much as spoken a word.

Much more quickly, her smile fell into a pout. “How come?” she asked sulkily.

“Because they were taken to help with Faith's training, not for public consumption.”

“And I won't tell anyone. Slayer's honour.” She made a cross over her chest and gave him the sweetest smile she could manage.

“If you wish to know more about Faith's history then you will have to ask her. But you know as well as I do, Buffy, that sometimes a person's past is better left alone.”

Giles' tone had become serious, and she admitted to herself that he was probably right. “Fine.” It wasn't like she wanted to hear the bad things about Faith's life, though she couldn't deny there was a small amount of curiosity there. Mostly she just wanted to know something more about the other girl pre-Sunnydale, and unless it was shop talk then Faith was pretty much avoido-girl. And while she could understand the need for secrecy more than most, that didn't mean she had to like it.

It didn't take too long before something else occurred to her. “Do I have a file?”

“Yes,” Giles drawled, eyeing her cautiously.

“Well can I see that? I already know about my past, what with me being there and all, so no harm right?”

He quickly flustered. “I-I don't think that would be a-appropriate.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

“Well, i-it's just – you are – were, that is...” He removed his glasses and began rubbing the bridge of his nose. Buffy kept her eyes on him as she moved her hands to her hips. He looked back at her, and his brow furrowed. He spoke slowly, as if still carefully considering his words. “It can take some time for the real you to shine through.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Meaning?”

His mouth morphed through a variety of different shapes, but not one of them offered up anything audible.

“Ready when you are,” Faith called, her head popping out through the door from the back room.

“Faith!” Giles all but shouted, scurrying quickly toward her. “Excellent timing. Let's begin straight away, shall we?”

“Lucky,” Buffy called after him, smiling to herself at his concern. “Well I'm going to head, college and all. But I'll see you both tonight.” She looked at Faith. “Nine o'clock sharp. I mean it; there'll be trouble if you're not there.”

Faith flashed her a toothy grin. “Later, B.”

----------

“Buffy?”

“Hmm?” Buffy offered absently, looking up at Willow. There'd been a question, that much she did know. She'd definitely heard the words; she just wasn't sure what order they had come in.

“I'm sure she'll show up soon,” Willow said.

“Who'll show?” Buffy asked, feigning ignorance.

The two of them sat across from each other at The Bronze, with Oz to one side and Xander to the other. Giles had promised to join them later after squeezing in another hour or so of research. Faith was also meant to have been there almost a half hour ago, but so far had been a no show.

“Jabba the hut,” Willow dead-panned. “You haven't gone thirty seconds without looking at your watch.”

“And now I've got this horrible feeling I'm late for something, but I'm not quite sure what,” Oz chipped in.

“Sorry.” Buffy gave a soft sigh. “It's just I've been thinking about it, and last year Faith's birthday was right after that whole Gwendelyn Post thing, which pretty much means she spent it on her own. I don't want her to be left alone again this year.“

Xander casually popped a nacho into his mouth, beginning to speak even as he finished chewing. “Which is perfectly understandable, Buff, but you can't drag her here against her will. Well you could try, but it might get messy.”

“But that's just it, I shouldn't have to. We're her friends. She should want to be here.” Buffy knew that Faith wasn't particularly close to the rest of the gang, but she was really referring to herself rather than anyone else. Sometimes it seemed like every time she thought she was getting closer to Faith the next thing she knew the girl would suddenly be pulling away again. Whatever was going on with her, she didn't seem to trust Buffy enough to let her in on any of it. The problem was, Buffy didn't know what else she could possibly do to change that.

Willow smiled reassuringly. “You never know, maybe she is just running late.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Buffy agreed, not even able to gather together enough belief to convince herself.

----------

Faith picked up her pace, walking as quickly as she could without flat out breaking into a run. Buffy is so going to kill me, she thought. Unfortunately timekeeping had never been her speciality, and she hadn't realized just how quickly the evening had flown by. An X Files marathon had gotten the better of her, but she'd be damned if she couldn't think up something better than that to tell Buffy. She veered off the pavement, knowing she could save a few minutes by cutting through the cemetery. It wouldn't be much, but she figured every little would help. Throw in the fact that she could play the birthday card and maybe she still had some hope of avoiding Buffy's ire.

Having barely passed through the gap in the low, iron railings that surrounded the southern side of the cemetery, a coarse, female scream grabbed her attention. “Score,” she said aloud. There was no way Buffy could be upset with her for turning up late if she'd been busy saving some chick from an untimely death. As a grin spread across her face she took off toward the source of the cry.

“You wanna let her go?” Faith asked as she came to a stop, looking the demon before her up and down. He stood only about a foot taller than her, but he was a lot bulkier and she looked small in comparison. She spotted the large broadsword sheathed at his side, and she glanced inside her jacket at her feeble looking stake.

“Finally,” he muttered, his ugly features showing his irritation. “I was close to giving up and just eating this one, but you shall make for a much finer meal.” With one hand he easily shoved the young woman aside. She crawled along the ground before getting to her feet, and she needed no persuasion from Faith before she took off, running as fast as her high heeled boots could carry her.

“Who the hell are you?” Faith asked, though Giles' rough description of their not so friendly neighbourhood invaders was at the front of her mind.

“I am Tarroth, warrior of Shek K'zar, and I have come to end your life.”

She rose an eyebrow. “Right then. Guess you gotta appreciate the honesty.”

“I offer you the chance to save your world. We will fight to the death, and to the victor will go the spoils.”

Faith smirked and gave a slight nod of her head. “Wouldn't have it any other way.”

Pleasantries over, she dashed forward, launching herself off a tombstone to move quickly through the air. She felt her foot connect hard with the demon's face, but his head barely moved and he let out a barky laugh. “Is that all you have? In my world the title of Slayer is reserved for those who can fight,” he said.

“Just getting started,” Faith shot back, and she tried kicking low instead, hitting the demon in his green kneecap. The result was pretty much the same, and an uppercut sent her soaring back. The grass broke her fall, and she quickly made her way back to her feet. She stretched out her jaws in a couple of directions, confirming they were still in full working order.

Tarroth moved toward her with long strides while she stood her ground. He aimed for her jaw again, but she ducked quickly and threw a flurry of fists into his stomach. His other arm reached out, his plump fingers grabbing her by the neck. She used both her hands to force him off, and she brought the back of his elbow down across her knee. His pained grunt brought a small, satisfied smile to her face, and once more she drove her knee into the joint. He swung his free hand around, and she jumped back, avoiding the contact.

“In my world the title of warrior is reserved for those who can fight,” she mocked as she watched him flex his arm.

He let out a disgruntled snort and drew his sword, grasping the hilt with both hands. “Funny creature. We'll see how entertaining you can be without your tongue.“ For a short time they circled one another, and Faith was more than happy to wait for him to make the first move, if only due to his rather large weapon advantage.

He rushed forward, swinging the sword across her body. She jumped back, arching in her stomach to avoid the tip of the blade. He brought the sword up and across, and she rolled under its arc, coming up on the other side as he turned to face her.

----------

Left sat alone at the table while her friends danced somewhere nearby, Buffy found herself staring at her glass of coke as she repeatedly stabbed at the liquid with her straw. Her half-hearted attempts to pop the bubbles couldn't hold her attention for long though, and after taking another look at her watch she let out a sigh as she got to her feet. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and began to shrug it on.

“Are you going?” Willow asked, appearing from out of nowhere with a surprising finesse.

“I'll be back soon. I just need to go check on Faith.”

“Want us to come with?”

“No, I'm sure it's nothing. Just Faith being Faith.” She could picture Faith sat at home, laid back with her feet up on the sofa and no intention of ever showing up, and she felt a tinge of annoyance that the girl had blown her off. The thought of leaving her to it had crossed Buffy's mind, but ultimately she couldn't bring herself to let Faith spend another birthday alone, even if she was bringing it on herself.

“OK. Well good luck,” Willow said, and she gave Buffy a large, optimistic smile.

----------

Faith turned to her side as another long swing of the broadsword swept past her. She buried a kick in the demon's side and then bounced out of the way as the blade came back across. She backed off and stole a quick glance behind as she searched for inspiration. The cemetery didn't offer a whole lot of options, but she figured she could at least even the odds.

She slowly trailed back, letting the demon keep up. Positioning herself in front of a mausoleum, she waited patiently for the demon to make its move. When it lunged forward sword-first, she quickly stepped to the side and kicked out hard against the fingers that wrapped around the handle. The blade tilted between the metal bars in the mausoleum gate until it locked in place, effectively turning the handle into a mid-air platform that allowed her to grind the heel of her boot into his fingers. He grunted loudly and released his hold, and the sword clattered noisily against the bars as it fell to the ground. He was already reaching down for it with his free hand, but Faith quickly swept it fully into the crypt with her foot, leaving it stuck out of reach behind the barred gate.

His hand seamlessly changed direction, instead coming up to squeeze around her neck, and he drove her hard into the crypt door. Her back arched inward after her spine came into contact with the decorative diamond-shaped lumps that poked from the gate bars, and her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block out the prickling pain. She didn't see it coming, but her instincts provided her the wherewithal to duck under his attempted backhand in the nick of time.

He managed to take hold of her wrist as she tried to duck past him, and her attempts to pull free proved ineffectual. His other arm swung out, his hand stinging her cheek. He kept his hold, stopping her from pulling away as he repeatedly drove his fist into her face. He reared his arm right back and delivered a final strong blow across her eye as he released his hold, and the impact sent her spinning down to the ground.

She groaned down into the grass, tasting the dew on the blades that had managed to poke their way into her mouth. Her face ached, and she could feel the blood running down from above her right eye. She started to crawl away, trying to give herself some time to recover. His arms firmly grasped her shoulders, and a moment later she was yanked harshly back to her feet. Acting on instinct alone, she rammed her head back into his jaw as hard as she could. If that hadn't been enough to give her a headache then his balled fists clubbing her across the back of the head definitely did the trick.

“You fought bravely, but it is time to end this,” Tarroth said.

Faith was on her knees, trying to shake her dizzied self back into action when she felt the fingers clutch around the back of her neck and begin to squeeze, and she struggled to wrench the tightening vise grip off of her. She couldn't tell if he planned to snap her neck or just rip her head off, but the pressure being applied made her entire body tense up in a lacklustre defence.

“Already? But I just got here.”

Faith heard Buffy's voice only a moment before the grip around her neck vanished, and she allowed herself a couple of seconds to try and rub some feeling back into it before forcing herself up. She turned just in time to watch the demon backhand Buffy to the floor. Still on the ground, the girl swept a leg out in retaliation, but it bounced harmlessly off the demon's stodgy leg.

Faith shot back into action, lashing out a boot into the demon's spine to get its attention. She backed off when he turned to face her, only looking to draw him away while Buffy made it back to her feet. Buffy circled around until she arrived at Faith's side. “I think it's about time to go,” she said.

“What?” Faith asked. “It's two v one now. We can take him.”

“I think we're going to need more than a couple of stakes for this.”

The two of them continued to back away, keeping their distance while Faith considered it. Her sore face and head helped take her to the conclusion that she really wouldn't mind an axe or two. “OK, so do you have an exit strategy?”

“Pretty much that we start running and don't stop until we lose it.”

“Bronze-wards?”

Buffy looked over at her, concern slipping over her features as her eyes travelled over Faith's face. “We should go and get you cleaned up first.”

“I'm fine.”

“Maybe, but they won't let you in The Bronze looking like that. They have a strict no fighting policy. Or at least they try to.”

“Someone should have tried telling that to the jolly green giant.”

----------

Faith unlocked the door to the Summers' residence then stepped aside to let Buffy enter first. The demon may have been strong, but it certainly wasn't quick on its feet, and it hadn't taken them long at all to shake it. Despite that, they'd still taken a longer route than required to get back to ensure they hadn't been followed. Faith certainly didn't want to wake up to find that thing's ugly mug staring down at her.

“Mom?” Buffy called out immediately, even though the house was coated in darkness.

“Working late,” Faith informed her, flipping the switches to illuminate the upper and lower landings.

“Good. She'd only worry if she saw you looking... I mean I think she'll be better off is she doesn't see more examples of just how dangerous what we do is.”

“It's OK, I get it.” Faith didn't feel all that bad considering she'd taken a bit of a beating, though there was still some aching in her face along with a vague pounding notion in the back of her head. She understood that Buffy wanted to keep her mother in the dark and, even if her wounds would be mostly healed by tomorrow, the concern she'd seen on Buffy's face suggested they probably didn't look all that appealing right then.

Faith led the the way to her room, and Buffy vanished briefly before returning with a small, plastic case and a navy wash cloth.

“First aid master Buffy reporting for duty.” Buffy moved close, placing a hand on Faith's shoulder and gently urging her down. “Sit.”

Faith did as she was told, taking a seat at the end of her bed. Buffy remained standing in front of her, opening the small case and laying it on the bed. Faith swallowed, knowing being so close to Buffy was going to be painful. She didn't say a word though, the two of them remaining silent as Buffy gently wiped the cloth back and forth across Faith's face. It had been soaked in warm water and it felt soothing against Faith's skin, but she found herself focused more on the fingers that kept it moving delicately. It would have been so easy to close her eyes and let her thoughts fade away under Buffy's touch, but she figured that might seem just a little bit too weird. Instead she worked on keeping her face neutral, ignoring the goosebumps that began to prickle up her arms.

After taking out a cotton bud and dipping it in the bottle of disinfectant from the medical pack, Buffy's hand moved up under Faith's chin, a single finger nudging her head back. Faith found herself looking straight into Buffy's eyes and was quick to lower her gaze.

She winced automatically as Buffy swabbed the disinfectant along the cut above her eye. “Sorry,” Buffy said softly, and Faith felt the pressure behind the bud lessen as if that would somehow stop the stinging. As Buffy continued to dab carefully at the cuts on her face, Faith's nervousness continued to grow. Buffy had barely laid a finger on her and already she was turning into a mess. She felt completely ridiculous, but she couldn't shut out her feelings, no matter how often she told herself it could only end badly. Her fingers wrapped around the edge of her bed in an effort to stop them from trembling.

“There. Looking as good as new.”

Faith looked up to find Buffy smiling at her. She waited until Buffy's attention moved to returning the medical supplies to the case before letting out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd started holding. “Thanks,” she said, needing a little more of a respite before she could form a more complicated sentence.

Buffy placed the repacked medical supplies and the cloth on the nearby dressing table before returning to Faith. “I should have warned you. Birthdays in Sunnydale? They have a nasty tendency to royally suck.”

Faith gave a small shrug as she looked up again. “I've had worse.” She regretted letting the words slip out the second Buffy's smile shrank. “I just mean it hasn't all been bad,” Faith quickly amended, but Buffy was already regarding her with that small, worried smile. It felt like she'd seen a lot if it lately, and she hated that she was causing Buffy concern. Even from the beginning though, all she'd ever seemed to do was hurt Buffy, and she glumly wondered how she could honestly ever expect Buffy to care about her.

“Ooh, hey, I got you something,” Buffy exclaimed. Not only was her excitement obvious, but its suddenness was enough to startle Faith. Buffy reached inside her coat pocket and pulled out a small, cuboid object wrapped in pink, glitter-laden birthday paper.

“B, you didn't have to...” Faith said, her eyes on the bow-finished present held out in Buffy's small hand.

“Sure I did. It's your birthday.” Buffy waggled the gift up and down, urging Faith to take it, and then she watched with a large smile on her face as Faith tried to pry a way through the tight wrapping. “Sorry, I'm a complete sellotape fiend. I can get through an entire roll on like three presents.”

“No kidding,” Faith replied before she finally managed to work a fingernail under the tape, peeling back the wrapping at one end and carefully shaking out the small box onto her palm.

“Sorry if it's not really your thing,” Buffy added as Faith opened the box, “but you didn't exactly leave me with a whole lot of prep time.”

Faith was too busy looking at the contents to try and defend herself. Inside, a miniature cross charm hung from a silver chain-link bracelet. She slipped her fingers under the chain and lifted it out, letting the cross sway back and forth as it dangled down. “It's really nice,” she said softly. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome, Faith.” Buffy pointed at the cross. “And look, if you ever get attacked by a really small vampire, now you're prepared.”

“Thank you,” Faith repeated, her eyes transfixed on the chain. It had been a long time since she'd even bothered to celebrate her birthday, yet alone received any presents, and she hadn't even considered that Buffy might get her something. She looped the chain around her wrist, but her fingers were still shaking and she couldn't steady them for long enough to line up the small hook of the clasp.

“So much for that fabled Slayer dexterity,” Buffy ribbed playfully.

“Pent up adrenaline from the fight. Can barely keep my fingers still.” A complete lie, but also the closest thing to the truth that Buffy was going to get from her.

“Here, let me.”

Buffy sat down by her side and reached out to gently take hold of her hand. Faith didn't object, letting her arm be pulled out to rest across Buffy's knee. She was suddenly glad that at least her hands hadn't started sweating, though she figured they might be about to if she couldn't put some distance between the two of them real fast. It didn't help that she could feel Buffy's leg brushing ever so slightly against her own, or that she was inhaling the warm, rich scent of berries emanating from the neck positioned only inches away.

“There.” It had only taken Buffy a second to do what Faith had been unable to, but then Faith didn't have the luxury of feeling even remotely at ease. Buffy looked so comfortable, so assured, their closeness not seeming to drive her insane like it was doing to Faith. Faith was well aware that Buffy's fingers still lingered on the back of her hand, and that Buffy's thumb still pressed against her palm. “You sure you're feeling OK?” Buffy asked, thin, light lines showing themselves on her forehead.

Faith wanted to open her mouth to say something, or to at least give a reassuring nod in reply, but neither one happened. Instead, before she'd even had time to realize what was happening, she'd shot forward to close the gap.

Her lips moved eagerly when they met Buffy's, her pulse frenzying from the agonizing concoction of fear and desire, every thought aligning in one single direction. It couldn't last though, just like it seemed nothing good ever could. Within a second she had become exceptionally aware that the kiss was completely one sided. Buffy hadn't pulled away, but nor did her lips press back against Faith's, and that very realization crushed her spirit. With no return of passion, the feeling of the warmth from Buffy's lips against her own faded away, and she was left only with the sensation of a lifeless mouth that clearly wanted no part of her. She pulled away, reluctantly forcing her eyes to creep open, dreading the sight she'd find in front of her.

Buffy was looking to her side, her gaze focusing somewhere past Faith's head, and Buffy sucked in her bottom lip. The slow, slight movement could easily have gone unnoticed by most, but not by Faith, who busied herself watching for any reaction. Every reaction. She'd acted without meaning to, their close proximity not leaving her enough time to fight the desire to be just that little bit closer still. Her nerves had caught up though, and they were making up for lost time as they effortlessly swatted away her temporary flicker of bravery. Or stupidity. She watched Buffy's eyes. Her mouth. Every feature intently as she waited for a sign.

It wasn't Buffy's still face that gave anything away though. The girl slid from the bed, rising to her feet without a sound, and Faith swallowed hard as she watched her move away, managing only to stop the smallest amount of air from escaping while the rest was violently torn from her body. She stared straight ahead, her unfocused eyes lining up with Buffy's stomach.

Gathering the nerve to look up felt more painful than the beating she'd taken earlier, and when she finally managed it she found Buffy's hands cradling the sides of her neck. The room wasn't particularly large, and yet it seemed to take Buffy an eternity to cross it as she paced at an almost inhumanly slow speed.

Faith realized she could try and take it all back, apologize, maybe even blame it on a head injury; anything to ensure that Buffy wouldn't walk away in disgust. They were the words that made the most sense, but they were also the ones she wanted to say the least. The alternative though – she couldn't even begin to bring herself to dwell on it. In the end the only word she managed to push out was the one constantly wedged at the centre of her thoughts. “Buffy.”

She watched helplessly as the girl came to a halt, knowing she could do nothing more than wait. Buffy's chest rose as she drew in a slow, steady breath. “Everyone will start worrying,” she said, her voice noticeably even. “We should get back.”

Faith felt sick. Physically, mentally, in every way she'd ever known. If she'd tried to stand up she thought she might have unravelled right there until there was nothing more of her than a crumpled heap of parts on the floor. “You go,” she managed to get out, her head dipping. “I'm good here.”

The silence was unbearable, and even throughout the Summer the room had never felt so hot and stuffy, the air so dry and harsh. Faith would have given her left arm to know what was going through Buffy's head. And then if needs be she'd have given up everything else to make Buffy forget.

“Are – are you sure?” Buffy asked finally.

No part of Faith could feel the brave smile that she forced to her face. The muscles in her neck stubbornly fought her all the way as she tried to drag her head to look up, and the effort it took pushed her another step closer to falling off her precarious perch at the edge of the cliff. It was all for nothing; while Buffy was facing her way, her eyes looked straight over Faith's head. She hovered at the door, one hand already loosely wrapped around the handle. “Yeah. Think I've had enough action for one night.”

“OK,” Buffy replied quietly. She hovered in place for a few more seconds, and Faith desperately hoped that Buffy had something more to add. She needed Buffy to push her to go or to offer to stay with her. Just the smallest of signs might have been enough to give her hope that she hadn't messed everything up.

That hope didn't come, and before they'd so much as made eye contact Faith found herself sat in silence, alone, staring at the spot where Buffy had stood less than a minute ago. "Fuck," she muttered, a balled fist taking her anger out on the unsuspecting mattress. Eighteen years old and she was still screwing up everything. She slunk her way back up the bed until her head tipped back to rest against the headboard.

For several long minutes she simply lay in place, her eyes on the ceiling, her breathing becoming progressively more ragged even as she fought to hold herself together. It was a battle she was in no condition to win, and it was only a matter of time before tears began streaming from her eyes. She rolled lifelessly onto her side as she sobbed and sniffled uncontrollably. Her head buried itself in a pillow as she tried to shut out the sound of her own rough whimpers. For the first time in a long while she felt so utterly broken, and her body shook fiercely until it had nothing left to give. Only once every remaining shred of energy had been expelled out down her cheeks could she finally stop crying for long enough to fall sleep.

A black SUV backed up into the driveway at the end of a quiet, suburban street. At the top sat a small, detached house, and in front of that a sizeable garden that contained neatly mown grass and little else. A middle-aged man and woman stepped out of the front seats, the former then opening the back door, unbuckling the seat belt on the booster seat, and lifting out a young boy.

"Are you going to go and help mommy buy some stamps at the post office?" he asked.

"Yeah!" the child replied, nodding vigorously.

"That's my boy." The man gently lowered the child to the floor and gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek. She took the child's hand in her own, but didn't even make it as far as the pavement before the boy started to pull away.

"Daddy, wait!" the boy shouted excitedly. He pulled a plastic, cheap-looking locket from his trouser pocket and held it out in the palm of his small hand. "Santa said it will keep you safe from bad things."

The man pursed his lips dramatically as he knelt down to take it. Despite its simplicity he looked it over with a sincere interest. "I guess we'll have to write him another letter to thank him, won't we?"

The boy nodded his agreement before happily bounding back toward his mother, and the two of them began to make their way in the direction of the local shops. The man stood at the bottom of the driveway, waving at the other two until they were out of sight.

Next he hurried to the back of the car, popping the boot open and taking out the two shopping bags filled with gifts. The post office was only a five minute walk away and he knew he needed to get the Christmas presents hidden away from prying eyes quickly.

After moving through the front door and carrying on straight up the stairs, he came to a sudden halt on the top landing. He stood and listened, slowly turning his head across the hall. He couldn't make out a noise coming from any of the rooms, but he was sure he'd heard something. After placing the locket down on the small corner table and taking one last look across the doors to each room, he moved into the master bedroom. The sliding door covering one half of the large wardrobe gave a small squeak as he pulled it open, and he had to hold back the large number of clothes that hung from the railings while he stashed the two bags safely out of sight in the back corner.

Even though the door squeaked once more as it slid shut, the man thought he'd heard that noise again – a quiet hissing sound that had stopped just as soon as it started. He moved back into the hallway and scanned over the doors to the guest bedroom, his son's room and the bathroom, his eyes holding on the latter. The door stood slightly ajar, and he questioned whether it had been that way a moment ago. He walked softly as he took his time to approach it, but he could hear nothing apart from his own breathing, no matter how intently he listened. Remaining cautious, he kept as much distance from the door as possible whilst letting the tip of his shoe push it the rest of the way open.

His eyes instantly set upon the slightly ajar window, and he laughed out loud at himself when he realized the sound must have been the wind whistling through the small opening. Already feeling much more relaxed, as well as a little foolish, he crossed the bathroom at his more usual pace and closed the window fully.

Turning to leave, he found himself freezing again, though that time with good reason. The bathroom door had silently pushed closed, and the reason slithered across the floor in front of it. Its body stretched across the door, carrying on around the corner of the room to lead straight to the head that watched him with interest. Its small, red tongue darted out of its mouth and it hissed loudly, and at once the man knew exactly what he had heard earlier.

His eyes widened and his heartbeat hit full speed within seconds. The snake continued to slither around the edge of the room, making its way toward him, and he kept his eyes on it as he very slowly sidestepped toward the door. The snake moved slowly, but so did the man, desperate not to startle it. He didn't even dare lift his feet, instead letting them slide cautiously along the floor much like the snake.

He'd just reached the halfway point to safety when the snake lashed forward, fangs bared, and he instinctively jumped away. The back of his legs connected with the edge of the bathtub and suddenly he was falling, his hands flailing through the air as they tried in vain to find something to keep him upright.

The back of his head bashed against the tiled wall, the impact enough to dizzy his senses, and he let out a small moan of pain. His hands moved down as he tried to push himself back up, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized that the base of the bath wasn't as hard, flat or still as it should have been. Instead the rough, bumpy surface writhed beneath him, and he swallowed hard, having to gather all his courage before he could force himself to look down.

A series of loud screams erupted from his throat, each one directly following a deep bite from one of the array of snakes pooled beneath him. He tried to stand, but the long, scaly reptiles had already wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, their combined weight fastening him in place. He could do nothing but panic and whimper as a thick, dark-green snake slithered up his arm, hissing softly into his ear as it coiled around his neck. As the bites continued to litter his body he couldn't even scream for help, the hold that continued to squeeze tighter around his neck forcing him to remain silent.

----------

"Take a look at this!"

Buffy felt more than a little preoccupied as she sat at an empty table in The Magic Box – the name Giles had convinced himself would be a good fit for his new business venture. In absolutely no mood to try and point out ingredients she'd never heard of to demanding customers, she had positioned herself as far into the back corner of the shop as physically possible.

The first hour of her Saturday morning had been spent in her dorm room, but she had quickly become too agitated with the small talk offered up by her room mate. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that with the girl constantly chattering into her ear. Her home was also currently off limits, for obvious reasons, and she had little desire to talk to anyone, leaving her options pretty much restricted to one.

She had suspected Giles would be too busy dealing with customers to pay her much attention after the initial greeting, but as he placed a newspaper firmly down in front of her she realized that might not be the case after all. As much as she knew she needed to do concentrate on the previous night, she couldn't help but feel that a temporary distraction from her own thoughts wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. It's not like she'd been getting far anyway; the endless cycle of short questions – best summed up as, what, why, and how – had been taking up most of her brain's processing power, leaving little left over to come up with any concrete answers.

She read the front page headline before shooting Giles a questioning look. "If you're worried I have a secret urge to start a snake collection, don't be. Like I've been telling my mom for the past decade, it's puppy or bust."

"What? No. Read it." Giles pointed her at the second column of the article, but couldn't contain himself for long enough to allow Buffy time to even get through the first sentence. "A man was found dead in his bathtub, his entire body swollen up and bleeding from snake bites."

"Yikes." Buffy released a shudder, and she would have wrapped her arms around herself had they not already been there to help keep her knees pulled up close to her chest. If she had tucked her head down as well then she suspected even Giles wouldn't have noticed her curled up in the corner. "I'm guessing there's more to this than forgetting to close a cage?"

"That's just it – the family don't own so much as a single pet, and none of the neighbours have snakes either."

"So where did they come from?"

"Exactly!" His loud outburst turned the heads of several of the nearby customers. Giles offered them a bright smile, waiting for them to turn away before leaning over toward Buffy, his voice becoming an energetic whisper. "The police found no sign that there had been snakes inside the house at any time whatsoever, yet the autopsy revealed poisons from an incredible variety of different species. The majority of which were from snakes that aren't even indigenous to this country."

"So we're thinking supernatural?" Being far from a huge fan of snakes, she already found herself disliking the sound of the latest Sunnydale shenanigans.

"It looks that way. But there's more."

Buffy frowned. "There is?" she asked weakly. She felt pretty certain that an army of magical snakes should have been enough of a worry for one week, and it wasn't as if she didn't already have her own issues to deal with. Or technically just the one, she mentally corrected herself, but it wasn't exactly a small one. In fact it was approximately five and a half feet worth of a – most likely – seriously pissed off Slayer.

"This makes the third death in as many days. I didn't say anything earlier because I wasn't sure if there was any connection, but now I am certain there is something afoot."

"More snakes?"

"No. The first death was a woman found lying on her bedroom floor, every bone in her body broken as if she'd fallen from the top of a skyscraper. And the other..." Giles frowned, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I suppose the other one died of old age."

Buffy rose a sceptical eyebrow. "OK, I have to say, that last one? Not really making me go 'ooh' with the creep factor."

"He was thirty one years old. Yet every organ in his body turned from being perfectly healthy to – to useless in less than a day."

"Oh." She realized the link between the three deaths might be tenuous, but even for the Hellmouth all three happenings in the same week seemed just a little too coincidental. "OK, well I'll look into it. Maybe I should start with the families? See if they can shed some light on anything? You know, any known enemies, that sort of thing."

"Yes, that's probably a good idea. We should look into this as a priority, just as soon as Faith gets here."

"No!" She received a wide-eyed look from Giles. "I mean we don't need to bother her. And – and who knows when she'll show up. She could be hours. Days even."

Giles looked at his watch. "Nonsense. I'm sure she'll be here shortly."

"Right, but – but there's no time to waste." Buffy uncurled and slid to her feet, already eagerly backing her way toward the exit as she continued. "I'll just go and get started. I mean the sooner we get to the bottom of this the better, right? If someone is dying every day then we have to act now."

Giles seemed to consider her words seriously for a moment before giving her a short nod. "Yes, I suppose you're right, but promise me you'll come back as soon as you find anything?"

"You bet."

The shop bell rung out, and Buffy had to slam her mouth shut before she let out a shriek. She awkwardly spun around with little grace, her body trailing some way behind her neck, and she was only able to relax once she'd set her eyes on the newcomer. "Willow. Oh thank God." Her heart was beating about three times as fast as it should have been, and it took her a while to notice Willow's curious look. "I mean: thank God, you're just in time."

Willow's confusion held in place. "Just in time for what?"

"New case, hot off the press. What do you say, a little injection of danger to brighten up the weekend?"

Willow look over Buffy's shoulders, first on one side and then the other. "Where's Faith?"

"How should I know?" Buffy replied immediately. It came out more aggressive than she'd intended, and Willow seemed a little taken aback.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that, well, the two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together lately – not that I mind." A small smile crept its way over Willow's face. "I was even thinking of getting you little matching t-shirts. Maybe with a five on each, cause, you know, when you're next to each other there'll be the one five, by the other five, and-"

"Look, are you in or not?" Buffy asked curtly, cutting off Willow before her babbling could waste precious escape time. Giles had made her all too aware that Faith really could show up at any moment, and she did not have any strong desire to see her. Well perhaps that wasn't entirely true, but she needed time to figure things out first. Whatever she was going to say to Faith, she needed to actually be able to form words in front of her. Preferably even entire sentences.

"Of course, Buffy." Willow's eyes moved to Giles, and Buffy caught sight of the questioning looks they shared but said nothing of it.

"Then can we please just go?" Buffy didn't wait for Willow to reply or lead the way, instead scooting around her and pushing out through the shop door.

----------

Faith sat alone at the kitchen table, any signs of life minimal. Despite the fact it was closer to lunch than breakfast, she had barely managed to drag herself out of bed only twenty minutes earlier, and doing so seemed to have used up what little energy she had recovered from her sleep all in one go. Her face rested limp against her cradling hands, propped up by the elbows placed either side of a cereal bowl. Inside, two largely untouched Weetabix were slowly dissolving away into the milk, leaving behind nothing more than a soggy mush. Her stomach refused to let her eat anything, and the one bite she had attempted to take had left her gagging the second the spoon brushed against her tongue.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do. At first she'd simply lay awake in bed, hoping that sooner or later the doorbell would ring and she'd hear Buffy's gentle voice float up the stairs. She'd hardly expected Buffy to come offering any grand declaration of feelings toward her, but she'd hoped the girl would be at least willing to pretend than nothing had happened. As time ticked on and she had still found herself alone, she had become increasingly convinced that nothing of the sort would happen. It was difficult not to come to the conclusion that Buffy would sooner stay away from her own home than risk having to talk to her, especially when the evidence was practically slapping her in the face.

That realization had left every part of her feeling numb, but in some small way she preferred that to the alternative. She hated that she'd been so weak the previous night. Weak enough to give into her desire, and then weak enough to completely break down. Even when things had been bad in the past she hadn't felt so helpless. She'd still had the strength that came with being the Slayer, along with some slither of control, however meager, and she hadn't thought that anything could take that last bit of her away. But Buffy had managed it with ease, and Faith was left trying to run on empty.

"So how does it feel to finally reach eighteen?"

Faith hadn't noticed Joyce's entrance, but then again she probably wouldn't have noticed somebody pulling her seat right out from under her. She didn't flinch though, instead remaining frozen in place. "Good," she mumbled into her hands, her lips barely moving enough to form the word.

"Can I have that once more with even less enthusiasm?" Faith lifted her head to look at Joyce blankly. "What's wrong?" Joyce asked, frowning. "Didn't you have a good time last night with your friends?" Faith continued to stare in silence, and Joyce clarified, "At the Bronze? Buffy mentioned they were throwing you a party."

If Faith hadn't been late, if she hadn't been watching some stupid TV show, she'd have been at that party. She wouldn't have been alone with Buffy, she wouldn't have kissed her, and everything would still have been OK. "I did something stupid," Faith quietly admitted.

"Bad stupid or just the regular kind?"

Faith was fairly certain her stupidity deserved a scale of its very own. She might not have deserved much in life, but she had at least earned that. "Depends who you ask."

"And if I ask you?"

Faith's shoulders felt far too heavy to shrug. "I thought... I thought something was there when it wasn't," she offered vaguely; she could hardly tell Joyce she'd put the moves on her daughter.

"Aah. I think I know what this is about." Faith sat up straight, the only energetic motion she'd managed all morning driven by the sudden worry that she might have given too much away. "A boy?" Joyce asked, sounding like she'd already decided on the answer.

"Right. Yeah," Faith said, releasing her held breath.

"You asked him out and he said no?"

"Something like that."

Joyce offered her a small smile and moved around the table to sit beside her. Her hand stroked small circles on Faith's back. "Well if you ask me that's his loss. And just because you're eighteen now it doesn't mean you're running out of time. There'll be plenty of other opportunities out there; just you wait and see."

"Not like this one." Faith knew she could flaunt her stuff and have her pick of just about anyone, but she didn't want other people. She didn't want other opportunities. She needed Buffy.

But she would never have her, and that small, simple fact felt like a scalding hot skewer had been driven through her chest. Tears were running down her face again, and she didn't struggle as she was pulled into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around her. She closed her eyes, weeping quietly in to the shoulder of Joyce's sweater.

She didn't care that, even having just turned eighteen, she was being rocked back and forth as reassuring words were whispered into her ear. She felt so lost. Scared. Everything around her was sinking, and it felt like she needed to cling to every small comfort she could get just to stay afloat.

----------

Three interviews, of sorts, had lead Buffy and Willow to the Sunnydale mall – along with gaining them a large helping of suspicion from the husband of the first victim. Buffy could understand that poking about over dead people might be seen as a little strange by some – OK, by everyone that wasn't her – but at least it looked to have paid off. None of the victims had any resentful associates to speak of, but they did all have one thing in common. The day each of them had died they'd been to the Sunnydale mall with their children. And to visit Santa's Grotto, no less.

"It really does just look like a piece of cheap junk," Willow said, looking over the small object with disgust.

Buffy had persuaded one of the children to fetch the plastic locket for her once the boy had become distraught shortly after telling her about Santa's promise of safety for the owner.

Willow tutted disapprovingly. "Who would be cheap enough to put a curse on this thing? I mean I'm not saying everyone needs to use the Hope Diamond, but come on, they couldn't even stretch to fool's gold?"

It was obvious they had reached the mall even before it came into view. It was one of the Sunnydale hotspots on any given weekend, but with Christmas fast approaching Buffy was pretty sure that the entirety of the population were out in shopping force. Her and Willow were still a hundred feet from the entrance and already they found themselves having to weave a path through the rabble.

"Hello? Am I talking to myself here?" Willow asked, raising her voice.

Buffy looked back over her shoulder. "Sorry. You said something about... diamonds?"

"Guess so," Willow mumbled to herself. "Buffy, is everything OK? You seem a little off."

"I'm fine."

"Well that was entirely convincing. Also, I can't help but notice that every time I say Faith's name you get grouchy."

Buffy hadn't overlooked the fact that Willow had brought up Faith on several occasions since they had left the Magic Box. "Look, Willow, can we just concentrate on the thing currently murdering children's parents right before Christmas if that's OK with you?"

"See. Grouchy." Willow's lips flattened innocently when Buffy shot her an irritated glare.

Buffy sighed and turned away, striding on toward the mall entrance, and Willow had to hurry to keep up with the increased pace.

"Is this about what happened on her birthday?" Willow called forward.

"What?" Buffy blurted out. She stopped instantly and turned, her eyes already wide in horror.

Willow frowned. "The no-show at the Bronze?"

"Oh." Buffy felt every muscle unclench. Get a grip, she told herself; she had no reason to believe Faith would have told anyone. "Right, that. Yes. No."

"Which?"

"What?"

Willow shook her head. "You're not making a whole lot of sense."

Buffy's hands ran through her hair, cupped around the back of her neck, and then fell helplessly to her sides again, all part of one slow, drawn out motion as she tried to wrap her head around the problem. Keeping everything to herself was starting to take its toll, and her stress levels seemed stuck on a constant elevation. She opened her mouth ready to test the waters but then had to step back out the way as a group of teenagers pushed between them. Once they were gone she found Willow still waiting expectantly, but her slight twinge of bravery had already passed. "Let's get to Lapland."

----------

While Willow mulled around outside the tent enveloping Santa's grotto, she spotted a security guard heading toward the tent entrance. She glanced worriedly at where Buffy had already vanished inside – after cutting in at the front of the queue – and then quickly moved in to intercept. "Excuse me," she called out as she ran over to him.

The guard stopped to face her, and Willow smiled nervously at him. "Is something wrong ma'am? Can I help you?"

"Hi. I, emm, yes, I just, err, I-I have a few questions."

There were several moments of awkward silence whilst each of them waited for the other to speak. "OK, sure," the guard said finally. "About what?"

"Err... about... umm..." Her mind blanked, and she was quickly becoming too flustered to think straight. Her eyes darted around, but other than the tent and the long queue formed around it there was little around to give her inspiration. "Santa's grotto. Is it... safe?"

"Safe?"

"Right, safe," she said more firmly, her confidence beginning to return as she latched on to a subject. "I don't want to bring my chil-sister here if it's not. I mean does anybody even vet the Santa? What if he's no good? What if – if he's so bad that he makes children realize Santa doesn't exist? Huh? Do you... provide compensation for that sort of thing?"

Despite her bumbling, the guard seemed to take her question seriously. "Well the Santa's are always brought in through registered agencies, if that makes you feel any better. Lately they've been from that new place over by the industrial estate just out of town. Well, apart from today – nobody turned up so one of the middle management is filling in." The security guard smirked and nodded happily to himself. "You should have seen his face when he got the news. Not happy to be spending his entire day listening to kids, I'll tell you that much. Serves him right though – the pompous jerk won't even let me finish early on Christmas Eve."

"Well that's good – the proper agencies thing that is, not the... But what about the tent?"

"The tent?"

"Is it washed regularly?"

The guard gave her a sceptical look, but Willow interrupted before he could speak.

"Hang on a minute, so are you saying the Santa in there now isn't the same one as yesterday?"

"That's right."

"Or the two days before that?"

"Like I said, the guy's just filling in for today."

"Oh." Willow's eyes wandered over to the tent. "Uh-oh." She could tell that Buffy wasn't in the right frame of mind to be all that cautious about her approach. She began to step away as her words came out more rushed. "Well thanks for the help, but I should really be-"

She stopped mid-sentence as the near side of the tent bulge outward, and a second later the material lifted out as a large ball of red and white flew from inside. Santa hit the floor back-first and rolled over two and a half times before coming to a stop face down. His head lifted up slightly, he let out a small groan, and then he collapsed straight back down to the floor.

Buffy appeared shortly after, ducking her way out of the tent, and Willow immediately waved both hands up in the air, hoping to catch Buffy's attention before she could do any more damage. Once she had it, Willow shook her head wildly, causing Buffy to stop and her eyebrows to peak questioningly. She didn't know the exact words Buffy mouthed at her, but the pointed finger toward the downed Santa gave Willow the general gist, and once more she shook her head, offering Buffy a glum smile to go along with it.

Buffy's eyes widened in horror, and her mouth opened in a small 'oh' as she looked along the queue of families. Several of the adults in the queue looked just as mortified as Buffy, while others were definitely edging more toward irate. A small girl suddenly started sobbing, and once she had it didn't take long before the rest of the children joined in. The festive lights that hung down from around the perimeter twinkled brightly in the background as the chorus of cries easily engulfed the large area of the mall, drowning out the faint Christmas music that came from within the tent.

“I can't believe they banned me from the mall,” Buffy complained. It had been some time since her and Willow had been promptly escorted outside by not just one but an entire team of security guards, but the repercussions had only just started to properly sink in. “Where am I supposed to shop now? What will I wear? How will I buy people Christmas presents?” She sounded more frantic with each question.

“I can't believe they only banned you for a month,” Willow replied, ignoring Buffy's plight. “You beat up Santa. In front of children. Even I was kind of upset, and I'm a Jew.”

“It's not my fault. He was supposed to be a demon.”

“Did you try explaining that to the nice security men?”

Buffy shot Willow a warning look. “Careful. That Santa might not be the last person I beat up today.”

Willow smiled meekly. “Err, let's just remember, the important thing is we have a new lead.”

Buffy stopped and looked around as the two reached an intersection. They'd already been trailing around aimlessly for longer than she would have liked, and things didn't look like they were about to pick up. After seeing nothing more suspicious than yet another row of buildings she opted to take a left turn for no particular reason. “Right. Somewhere on the industrial estate. Why couldn't it have been on the industrial road? Or better yet, in the industrial building. This could take forever.”

“But on the plus side – not a whole lot of festivities up this way. I'll bet he'll stand out like a – well, like a Santa in an industrial estate,” she finished with gusto, drawing a sideways glance from Buffy.

----------

Faith scowled at the sight of her own face as she stared into her bedroom mirror. She'd hoped an application of black eye-liner would help mask the bags that had formed under her eyes, but it had only drawn more attention to them. She sighed in defeat; tears clearly weren't good for the skin. After hastily applying a thick layer of ruby lipstick and grabbing her leather jacket off her bed, she headed for the stairs. It's not as if she'd expected to run into anyone human, but she hated the thought that she looked like a weepy, lovestruck mess. More importantly, if she did run into Buffy then she wasn't about to give the girl the satisfaction of knowing how easily she'd fallen apart.

“Are you going out?”

Knelt down in the hallway, she'd barely finished pulling up her knee-high boots when Joyce's head poked out from the living room.

“Patrolling,” Faith said as she rose to her feet.

“Are you sure you're feeling up to it?” The concern in Joyce's voice was difficult to miss, but Faith knew the only things that needed to start worrying were any vampires she might run into. She was willing to admit she'd been in better states of mind, but she figured if anything could put her back on track it would be a little late night ass kicking.

No matter how tempting it might have been, pining over Buffy wasn't going to get her anywhere. Buffy had already made her choice, and Faith needed to make hers. She needed more time to decide exactly what that might entail, but long-term she knew she couldn't stay at the Summers' residence. Even Sunnydale itself was starting to seem like a bad place to stick around; everywhere she'd go she'd risk running into memories waiting to kick her back down again.

For the night she'd stick to the short term though, and that meant doing what she did best. If she got lucky maybe she'd even run into that green-skinned freak again. She pulled open the front door. “I'm up to it.”

“Why don't you wait for Buffy first? I'd feel better if the two of you were out there together.”

A twinge of sadness shot through her, and her shoulders involuntarily stiffened, the tension running down her arms until her grip on the doorknob tightened so much that she almost pulled it clean off. Her eyes closed for just a moment and a deep breath kept her as steady as she was going to get any time soon. “Buffy's not coming,” she said firmly, stepping outside and forcing the door shut hard before Joyce could question her further.

----------

A small, white van appeared across the street, and Buffy quickly pushed Willow flat against the nearby building, eliciting a surprised squeak. “Sorry,” Buffy murmured, holding the girl in place as she peaked around the corner to keep her sights on the van. It was far from the first vehicle they'd passed, but as nightfall had arrived the entire place had quickly become desolate. They were also running out of real estate to check, and their current, run-down location was about as far away from the central roads as possible. All in all, as far as Buffy was concerned, that made the van a good candidate for suspicious activities.

The vehicle pulled up alongside a second identical van that had already been positioned in the small parking lot at the back of a decrepit looking building. Unlike many of the other buildings and factories in the industrial estate, there was no logo or name indicating what one could expect to find inside. The brick walls were left bare but for some illegible graffiti and a stack of wooden crates piled up at one side of a door that was seriously in need of a re-painting.

“Maybe now's a good time to call in the backup,” Willow suggested as she tried to peer around Buffy to get a better view.

“Come on, Will, we can handle one little demon,” Buffy replied absently, her focus still set on the van. The doors simultaneously opened on both sides, two figures emerging from the front seats, each of them decked from head to toe in red and white. “Or two,” she amended. “We can handle two medium to large demons.”

“And what about ten?” Willow asked. “We don't know how many of them are in there. Or even what they are.”

“It'll be fine,” Buffy reassured her.

“Buffy, you know I'll always stand by you, no matter what, but whatever it is Faith's done to upset you – I'm not really sure I want to die over it.”

“She hasn't upset me. We're fine.”

“You really expect me to believe that? For the past month I've barely seen the two of you apart, and now you've been avoiding her all day. And let's not forget how you almost had a stroke when you ran into that brunette a few blocks back.”

“I did not,” Buffy defended. The girl in question had just happened to be lurking sneakily around a corner and had taken her by surprise, she thought to herself. “And I haven't been avoiding anyone.”

“Fine. Call her then. Right now.” Willow crossed her arms firmly in front of her chest and stood watching Buffy expectantly.

“What?” Suddenly feeling painfully uncomfortable, Buffy had to force the word out from where it had gotten stuck in her throat. “Why?”

“Why not?” Willow immediately countered.

“Willow, you're being ridiculous.”

“Me? You're the one about to get us both killed, and if I'm going to die then I think I at least deserve to know why.”

“Fine, why don't you stay here then? If I'm not back in ten minutes then you can go get help.”

“Oh, good idea, and then we can all carry your dead body out together. That'll be fun,” Willow shot back, her words oozing with sarcasm.

Buffy's patience was running thin, and her heightened emotions were starting to intermingle. “What the hell is your problem?” she demanded angrily.

“My problem? You're the one who won't stop and think for two seconds.”

“I've stopped, I've thought, and I've decided. In case you've forgotten, this is what I do. Whether you want to come or not is up to you, but I'm going to do my job.”

Buffy strode away, crossing the road toward the building without even bothering to check for traffic. The two arrivals had vanished, but the door to the building stood slightly ajar and Buffy beelined right for it. It only took a few seconds before she heard the clip-clop of Willow's quick footsteps as the girl ran to catch up. “Just so we're clear,” Willow whispered as she came to a stop, close enough that she almost knocked straight into the back of Buffy, “if we die you're not getting a Christmas present this year.”

----------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jacob positioned himself to lean against the side of the room as he watched Ethan Rayne kneel on the floor in the middle of a black, neatly drawn pentagram.

“What is the festive season if not a time for a little magic?”

“You've already made the paper three times now, and people are going to start noticing a string of unexplainable deaths,” Jacob warned.

Ethan let out a dry laugh. “This is Sunnydale. You'll find that nobody notices much of anything around here. It's about the only good thing this dreary, little town has going for it. Besides, I need to do something to keep myself entertained whilst I'm stuck here waiting for your new friends to do their damned job.”

“I told you already, it'll be over before you know it.”

“Now where have I heard that before,” Ethan said in mock thought. He ran a knife over the palm of his hand, wincing as his skin cut open, and then he pushed his hand flat against the forehead of a gargoyle-esque stone statue. “Oh that's right, that'd be from you. Three times now if I recall correctly, and yet somehow the Slayer count still seems to be at an all time high. Tell me, how does that work exactly?”

“So things haven't gone exactly as planned, I'll admit that. The Slayers have an annoying habit of showing up for each other. Tonight it won't matter though. Faith will be gone for good, and even if Buffy and everyone she knows tries to interfere... well let's just say there'd be a sudden dip in the Sunnydale population.”

The blood crept from Ethan's wound and trickled down the statue, slowly collecting together in the basin that surrounded the statue's clawed feet. A small pedestal stood in the middle, and perched on top of that were a pile of plastic lockets.

His interest in Jacob's promises was minimal. “I'll believe it when there's a cold, hard corpse making me a very rich man. Until then, be quiet. If your blathering makes me mess this up then I'll make sure I find out what your greatest fear is.”

He had barely began to start chanting when the loud sound of clanging metal vibrated through the walls, and Ethan's eyes instantly rose to the closed door that separated the two rooms. “That didn't sound good.”

----------

Buffy tossed the steel sheet aside; the huge, head-shaped indentation had left it in a less than useful state. Before the cheerily-dressed demon could regain its senses she moved forward to deliver a kick to its sternum.

When a large, white beard and a low-hanging, red hat had been covering the vast majority of its head, she had understood how the creature could pass for human in a barely lit tent. A human with some serious skin irritation issues and a pair of way too creepy, beady eyes, sure, but a human none-the-less. After the hat had been lost in the fight, and with the beard currently hanging loosely around its neck, it suddenly looked a lot more questionable for the role.

It punched out and she caught hold of its fist, twirling her body around until its arm twisted tightly before hauling it forward over her shoulder.

“Buffy, to your left!”

She turned the instant she heard Willow's shouted warning and was able to duck in time to narrowly avoid the swing of a large wooden crate. It exploded into a mess of wooden panels and shards as it came into contact with the wall, and from her lowered position Buffy thrust her shoulder forward into the second demon's stomach, tackling it to the floor. She pulled out her stake and forced it deep into the demon's chest, keeping it pressed in place until only a corpse remained.

Willow's shriek had her back on her feet in an instant, and seeing the third and final demon towering above the girl, Buffy rushed forward without thinking, only to run straight into the arm that suddenly stretched out in front of her. It caught her right across the neck, and she could do nothing but brace herself as her back met the cold, hard floor. She cried out as she was harshly dragged up by her hair, and before she could react she found herself flying through the air, ploughing straight through a stack of crates.

She scrambled up to meet the attacker's approach head on, parrying the first punch and swinging her torso back to avoid the second. She jumped up, grabbed hold of the overhanging pipe, and kicked out with both legs, sending it staggering back the way it had come. A collection of metal pipes stood against a nearby pillar, and she grabbed the closest one before charging forward. The demon held out both hands in an attempt to deter the attack, but Buffy found a way in, ramming the metal rod all the way through its chest.

She turned back to Willow, whose arm had disappeared up to her wrist into her handbag as she shuffled her way back from the remaining demon.

“Vesta, Goddess of the hearth, incendia,” Willow shouted as she threw a large handful of glimmering particles upward. Each one erupted into a tiny flicker of fire, banding together with the others to create a spiralling ball of red and orange. The vibrant particles twisted and danced in-between one another as they circled the demon's head, and even once the flames had faded away the demon kept shrieking as if the heat remained. The distraction gave Buffy ample opportunity to move up behind it, and she silenced it with a single twist of its neck before pushing the limp body away to the side.

“Nice,” she commented as she held out a hand to help Willow to her feet. “You OK?”

“I-I think so.” Willow's lips flickered upward. “Haven't tried that one before.” She was breathing hard, and a small amount of sweat had crept from the pores on her forehead. “What about you? Feeling better now?”

“Come on, we're done here,” Buffy said, already beginning to move away.

“Buffy, please, stop for a minute,” Willow said before pausing to pant a little more, and Buffy did as she was asked, waiting for Willow to catch her breath. “Just tell me what's going on? Has Faith done something bad? Because I thought she was supposed to be on our side now.”

“What?” Buffy registered the uneasy look on Willow's face. “No,” she assured her. “No, it's nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Willow asked. Buffy opened her mouth, but found herself quickly cut off. “And don't say nothing, because you have something face. In fact, you've had a whole range of something faces today, and honestly, you're starting to scare me.”

Buffy stayed silent as she weighed up her options, knowing she'd have to talk to somebody about it eventually. At that moment, the thought of doing so with Willow seemed slightly less terrifying than talking with Faith, and so with a resigned sigh she started trying to think of a way to explain. “You know when you spend a lot of time around someone and it kind of gets... weird.”

Willow furrowed her brow. “Weird how?”

That wasn't even the right word, Buffy decided, thought she couldn't come up with a better one. “What do you think of her? Honestly,” she said, sidestepping Willow's question and completely changing direction.

“Of Faith?”

Buffy nodded her response.

“Well... I know it might sound like I'm giving you a hard time for spending so much time with her, but I don't mean to. I think it's good that you two are getting along so well. I didn't think she would come back, from everything that happened, but I have to hand it to her – she's surprised me.”

A quiet laugh escape Buffy's throat, leaving behind a shadow of a smile on her face. “You're not the only one.” Her fingers intertwined in front of her, occupying themselves as she began pacing slowly back and forth in front of Willow. “And we are. Getting along well I mean. Like, really well.”

“And that's a bad thing?” Buffy didn't respond, and she took a sharp turn, her slow steps taking her in a new direction. Willow spun to keep her in sight. “Buffy, I know we haven't spent a whole lot of time together lately. You've been busy doing the whole Slayer thing with Faith, and – and I've got Oz, but that doesn't mean you're not still my best friend. You know you can tell me anything.”

Buffy came to a stop and took a deep breath. Her gaze looked briefly to the ceiling before falling at Willow's feet. “She kissed me,” she said in a hushed voice, a large part of her hoping that Willow wouldn't hear.

“She...” Willow started before there was a long pause. “Oh.”

Buffy let out another nervous laugh. She squeezed her hands together, trying to get them to keep still. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too.”

“And there haven't been any... signs?”

“No,” Buffy said immediately, continuing only when Willow remained quiet. “Not really. I know she can be... kind of flirty sometimes, but I didn't think she actually meant anything by it. I thought she was just being, I don't know, friendly.”

“Friendly?” Willow echoed, her raised eyebrows backing up the doubt in her voice

“Well you don't just assume these things,” Buffy defended, and she was moving again, her hands more animated than ever as they grasped loosely at the air and her feet completely incapable of staying grounded for long. “It could have been like the whole five by five thing. You don't really know what she means, but you just kind of accept it. And while we're on the subject, you don't just – just kiss someone. You – you take small steps. You ask first. Preferably by mail.”

“What did you say to her? When she... you know.”

“Say?”

Willow winced, and Buffy looked away guiltily. “You haven't spoken to her about it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Don't you think maybe you should?”

“No.” Buffy caught sight of Willow's pointed look, and she relented just a little. “Maybe,” she muttered.

“Buffy, you know the longer you leave it the worse it's going to get. Take it from someone who knows – festering helps nobody. A-and what about Faith? That must have been a big move for her. If she... likes you, and she went out on a limb like that.... and then you bailed. If that'd been me, I'd be in my room right now agonizing over it.”

Buffy froze on the spot, swallowing hard. “Oh God.” She felt the panic begin to rise. She'd been so taken aback, so distracted by her own questions, her own emotions, that she hadn't stopped for a moment to think about how Faith might be feeling. At least ten times worse, Buffy realized, and Faith didn't even have anyone to talk to about it. “I'm such a cretin. I'm like the – the great grandmother cretin of all cretins.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Willow said, offering her a small smile. “But I do think the sooner you let her down, the better it'll be for the both of you.”

Buffy's nerves came back with a vengeance, and she could barely lift her eyes to meet Willow's. After finally managing that, all she could do was stare, neither willing nor able to put her thoughts into words, and an unknown number of long, painfully drawn out seconds did nothing to help her overpowering anxiety.

“Unless you're not planning on letting her down,” Willow said slowly, and it sounded more like a question than a statement. Buffy couldn't be sure if Willow's eyes had widened ever so slightly. “You like her? Like, like her-like her?”

Buffy's reply came only after a long intermission. “I don't know. She's... well, Faith. I mean she's completely impulsive. She can be totally reckless. And she's definitely not what I was looking for, if I was even looking for anything, which, by the way, I wasn't...”

“I'm sensing a but,” Willow prompted after Buffy's voice trailed away.

“It's just that... she can be really sweet sometimes. She can always make me smile, even when I'm sure I should be insulted. And it's hard to explain, but we have this... connection. I realize this sounds ridiculous, but when I'm around her it's like – it's like everything is supercharged. When we're fighting together, her energy, her adrenaline, it washes right over me. I can feel every part of it surging through my body. And when it's just the two of us I feel.... safe. Content. Like everything's going to turn out OK, you know?”

Buffy had to force herself to stop talking before she started to tear up, and only then did she notice the large smile that had made its way onto Willow's face. “I guess she's pretty easy on the eyes too,” Willow said, and Buffy raised an eyebrow, her anxiety taking a few long strides back. “I didn't mean from my perspective,” Willow added quickly, and she emphatically shook her head.

“She does have the whole billowy bad girl vibe down,” Buffy admitted, the thought dulling her small smile as it brought up something else that had been bothering her. “But that's the other thing. You've heard her; she's all horny-this and sex-that. What if she's just after some quick fling and – and I'd just be setting myself up to get hurt?” Her voice quietened, coming close to a whimper. “I can't go through that again, Will... I just can't.”

Willow's large, circular eyes regarded her sympathetically. “Do you think that's all it is?”

Buffy sighed her frustration. “I don't know. I mean, I think there's something there. But how am I supposed to know if she really cares about me that way?”

“Well you could always ask her.”

She eyed Willow carefully. “You're really strung up on this whole talking thing, aren't you?”

“It's my new mantra. Ever since Xander and I... no more bottling things up. Because bottles? Sooner or later they have a habit of popping open, and then there's nothing but badness spewing out.”

Buffy looked down at the demon corpses on the floor, each of them seemingly happy to stay in place. While she was beginning to regain some form of control over herself, she still felt far too preoccupied for clean-up duty and figured she could return to dispose of them later. She turned for the exit, moving slowly until Willow fell into place beside her. “Or maybe all we need are better corks. Like the ones on wine bottles with the twisty metal guard,” she said brightly, her fingers screwing in place an invisible cap in demonstration.

“Buffy!”

“I know, I know,” Buffy quickly relented. “I'll talk to her.”

“Good.”

Buffy shook her head at Willow's victory smile. “Why can't life be like fighting demons?” she asked dimly.

“Full of punching, stabbing, beheading...”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, smiling to herself. “The easy stuff.”

They exited the building in silence, slowly making their way back toward town. Neither of them spoke up until they reached the crossroads a short while later, and Buffy hadn't even realized where they were until Willow's words snapped her back into focus.

“Well I guess this is where we part ways,” Willow said, pointing toward one entrance of the college campus.

Buffy nodded, glancing in the vague direction of her house before turning to face Willow. “Thanks, Will,” she said earnestly. She leaned in to pull Willow into a hug, holding her for a few moments. “I'm glad you were here today.”

Willow beamed a reassuring smile. “Call me later and let me know how it goes?”

“Sure.”

Willow gave a small wave before moving away down the road. Buffy stood and watched her for as long as she remained in sight, making sure that nothing jumped out at her from the trees lined up along one edge of the road. Once left completely alone, Buffy's jitters steadily began to rise. She took a slow, deep breath before continuing on her way home; it wasn't as soothing as she would have liked. “Be brave,” she commanded herself out loud. “It's only Faith. It's not the end of the world.”

For the best part of five minutes Buffy had been stood anxiously at her doorstep. Her hand had lifted her key toward the lock on several occasions, but only on the fourth attempt did she scrape together the courage to follow through. The door crept open, she tentatively stepped inside, and then she almost jumped straight back out as her mother's voice took her by surprise.

“Oh Buffy, where have you been?”

“Mom?” The worry on her mother's face was contagious, and Buffy's mind wasted no time in trying to think up what disasters could have occurred. “What's wrong? Are you OK?”

“I'm fine. But oh God, Faith...”

That didn't make her feel any more calm. “Faith? What happened?”

“You know, that thing from last night.”

“Last night?” Her mother couldn't have known what happened, Buffy thought, and surely Faith wouldn't have said anything. Would she?

“Come on, Buffy, she told me everything.”

Buffy's eyes widened. She wasn't even sure what was happening between herself and Faith; she was definitely not ready for her mother to get involved. “She did? Mom, look, I can explain. It just--”

“Who was that boy?”

“I mean she just – wait, what?” Buffy might have felt some relief had she not jumped straight to confused. “What boy?”

“The one that upset Faith. I don't know exactly what it was he said to her, but I swear...” She held up her hands, and her fingers clawed inward. “He's lucky I can't get my hands on him, or I'd give him something to be upset about too. ”

Buffy was beginning to feel ill, her mother's obvious frustration feeding her quickly intensifying worry and guilt. “Just how bad is she?” she asked, wincing a little before the answer even came.

“She's devastated.” Joyce made a noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a growl. “I just don't understand how people can be so cruel.”

Buffy swallowed. Her heart sank. “Devastated?” she asked weakly.

“And I really don't think she should be out looking for vampires in her frame of mind,” Joyce continued.

Knowing exactly how gung-ho Faith could be even on a good day, Buffy wasn't about to argue with that. “You're right. I should go catch up to her.”

Feeling like she might topple over, there was a very sudden, very urgent need for large gulps of fresh air, but more than that she needed to get to Faith, and she was already backing her way out of the house before her mother gave a firm nod in agreement.

----------

After finally catching up to Faith, Buffy was relieved to find the girl in one piece. She was slightly more concerned about the hammering Faith was busy dishing out though, and she winced as an unlucky vampire spun through the air, hitting back first into a tree before plummeting straight down onto its head.

Faith quickly made up the distance, unwilling to offer her victim any reprieve. She dragged it back to its feet, wrapping her hands up in its jacket to hold it in place as she delivered a relentless series of headbutts. As soon as she released her hold it dropped to its unsteady hands and knees, its head rolling loosely about its neck. Using both hands she drilled her stake hard through its back, and almost the entire length had vanished inside the creature before the eruption of dust.

Faith straightened out her jacket, returned the stake to its usual pocket, and turned around before catching sight of Buffy. She stood in place, her dour expression unchanging, and Buffy cautiously walked toward her.

“Hey,” Buffy said, getting not so much as a flicker of recognition in response. “I thought maybe you'd need a hand.”

Faith glanced back at where the vampire had been moments earlier before shrugging. “Guess not.”

“Right.” Buffy might only have been taking Psychology classes for a couple of months, but it didn't take a diploma to realize Faith was not particularly pleased to see her. “Mind if I stick around anyway?”

“Free country,” Faith returned, already turning away.

Well at least it wasn't a flat-out no, Buffy thought to herself, though she'd definitely had warmer receptions in her life. She lingered not too far behind as the patrol continued, letting Faith lead the way as they carried on through the graveyard. The girl seemed content to ignore her very existence, and she was doing a fine job of it. Buffy could have fallen face first into an open grave and Faith would likely have been none the wiser.

“So,” Buffy said as her arms idly swung back and forth.

“So,” Faith echoed back after a long pause.

Buffy watched as Faith scanned their surroundings, looking in every direction but hers. “How was your day?” she asked brightly, biting her tongue far too late to keep the ridiculous question back.

Faith continued onward without so much as a hesitation. “Five by five,” she said, sounding completely indifferent.

Buffy's nerves had been getting the better of her all day, and Faith's mood was doing nothing to make her feel any more courageous. She knew she couldn't put it off forever though; they'd barely been out together for five minutes and already the awkwardness was beginning to eat away at her. Worse still, the results of avoiding the issue were on clear display right in front of her – and they weren't pretty. She licked her lips before she began. “Listen, about last night.”

Faith glanced at her, catching her eye for just a moment before looking away again.

“When...” Buffy tried, getting nowhere whatsoever. “It's just...” She fumbled with her hands as she tried to find the right words, which would have been far easier had she known what she'd wanted to say. “I mean...”

Faith spoke up instead. “You know what, just forget about it, OK? Big fight, no kill, you know how it is. It didn't mean anything.”

“Oh,” Buffy said. “I mean yeah, right, I know.” Well that really helped, she thought to herself bitterly. She might even have believed Faith's words, but there was a stronger one which she simply couldn't shake from her head: devastated. “Just so long as there's no hard feelings,” she added absently, too busy thinking up a new approach to focus on the words currently falling from her mouth.

Faith stopped and turned on Buffy, the anger that was already evident in her posture now flowing freely into her words. “Jeez, wanna try getting over yourself sometime? You're not all that.”

“Sorry, I just thought maybe you'd already exhausted everyone else in town,” Buffy snipped back before she'd even realized that she'd been angered by the affront. Seeing Faith's scowl darken, she regretted it instantly. “Fai--”

“Screw you,” Faith shot out, and she took an aggressive step forward, an accusatory finger pointing toward Buffy. “If you've got a problem with how I live my life then don't be shy. Let's hear it.”

“Faith, please, I didn't mean that,” Buffy tried again, raising her hands in surrender.

Faith continued to glare at Buffy, her eyes still narrowed in warning. Then she rushed forward.

“Whoa, Faith, wa-oof.” Buffy's held out hands weren't enough to stop the stampeding blur of brunette hair. Faith bowled into her, taking them both off their feet and knocking the air from Buffy's lungs. Faith landed on top, her body pinning Buffy flat against the ground. Above her, Buffy caught a glimpse of an orange sphere of light fizzing past, skimming just past Faith's back, close enough to ruffle her hair along the way. Buffy craned her neck to follow its path, and she watched it dissipate into the air in the distance.

“Oh,” she managed once the realization had sunk in. “Err...”

“Thank me later,” Faith said, jumping to her feet. She reached down, and Buffy took her hand, letting herself be pulled up.

They didn't stay together long, having to quickly dive in opposite directions to leave another blast to fly harmlessly between them.

Buffy looked across to the source of the projectiles. Demon, check. Green skin, check. It was another one of Shek's minions, and while the last one had just been plain ugly, the latest visitor threw creepy into the pot. The female demon's skin seemed to wriggle constantly, and even from a distance Buffy was sure she could make out what looked like tiny, individual entities moving beneath it. That had the effect of making her own skin join in on the squirming.

Apparently not as freaked out as Buffy, Faith was already up and on the move, launching herself forward toward the demon. At first the direct approach seemed to be doing the trick, and a flurry of attacks had the demon giving up ground, but in an instant the situation turned on its head. The demon's long, gangly fingers clenched together, and Faith stopped her assault to begin clutching feverishly at her throat.

As Faith dropped to her knees, Buffy realized what was happening, shook herself back to life, and surged forward. She introduced herself with a jumping front kick and then spun to deliver a backhand across its face. The demon dropped back once more, but no sooner had Buffy drawn her stake she lost it as a simple wave of the demon's hand flung her away to the side.

If nothing else, the attack had at least proved enough of a distraction to free Faith from whatever the demon had done to her, and she picked up where she'd left off. Like Buffy, she only managed a handful of attacks before she too was thrown aside, landing not too far away from where Buffy was finishing picking herself up.

Back on her feet, Buffy moved in to take Faith's place, but in her haste she ran straight into the orange blast that sizzled through the air. Her body folded over, and she was thrown back with enough force to unsettle the gravestone that she collided with spine-first. Her teeth clenched as she rolled on to her side, and before she could even think about getting back to her feet a much larger ball of light was already heading straight for her.

Before it could reach her, Faith dived in front of its path.

“No!” Buffy shouted, but there was nothing she could do but reach out helplessly, and she quickly lost sight of Faith as the light completely consumed her. “Faith!”

There was no response, and the light didn't appear content to stop. It continued to advance until it had enveloped Buffy too. She shut her eyes against the invading brightness, and while she couldn't see what was going on she could feel the ground begin to pull away until she was left stranded. She was convinced she was somehow floating through the air, and her head refused to stop spinning. Her hands tried desperately to comfort her increasingly nauseous stomach, but it continued to lurch back and forth anyway. Thankfully she didn't have to deal with the feeling for long before everything faded away.

----------

Buffy groaned as she lifted her head off the ground, and she tried to cough out the grit that she could feel lodged in her throat. A part of her still felt like she was tumbling helplessly through the air, and it took a few moments for her vision to fully return to focus. “Ow,” she muttered in complaint. She hadn't expected much of a reply given Faith's mood, but as she looked around she couldn't lay her eyes on the girl. Worry already setting in, she scrambled to her feet, kicking up a cloud of dust in her haste. “Faith!” she called out.

Her memory was clearing up, and she remembered that Faith had taken the full brunt of the blast. She forced herself to stumble forward, her legs seemingly needing time to get used to moving again, and she wildly looked all around her. She continued to called out Faith's name as she moved, each time louder and filled with more panic than the last.

“Over here.” Faith crawled out from behind a pile of boulders near the side of the wide, dusty track. She picked herself up, leaning against the large pile of stone as she swatted the dirt from the arms of her leather jacket. “Well that was all kinds of fun, huh?”

The relief at laying her eyes on Faith was short-lived, and Buffy strode straight for her. “What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded.

“Excuse me?” Faith sounded equal parts surprised and annoyed.

“That blast could have been anything. It could have melted your face off for all you knew.”

“Yeah, and it didn't. What's your point?”

“My point is it could have killed you.” She flung her arms around Faith and held her tight. “Don't you dare do anything like that again.”

Faith stiffened immediately, her arms staying down by her sides. “Like you'd even care.”

Buffy pulled back slowly, letting her arms fall away to her sides. “How can you say that?” It didn't take long for her to realize what a stupid question that had been, and she carried on quickly before she became the recipient of any more venom. “Faith, I am – I am so, so sorry about last night. And today as well. I swear, it didn't mean... it doesn't mean that I don't care about you.”

Faith's face remained wary, her posture closed off, and Buffy put all the conviction she could muster behind her words. “I had no idea how you felt. I didn't even know how I felt. Honestly, maybe I still don't, but I do know I feel something. A-and I want to find out what that is.” Refusing to let her eyes leave Faith's, she blindly reached forward, searching out the girl's clenched fist. Faith didn't fight her as she slowly uncurled each finger one by one and took the open hand in her own. “You mean more to me than you realize, Faith, and what I've been trying to say is--”

The loud wail of a horn stopped her dead. “Oh come on. Can't I just get two minutes without an interruption please?” Buffy muttered in irritation as she turned her neck to find the source of the noise.

More focused on Faith than anything else, she hadn't paid much attention to her surroundings, but it suddenly dawned on her that the two of them might not be in the relative safety of Sunnydale any longer. Not necessarily because of the unrecognisable scenery, but more because a gang of green-skinned demons stood not more than fifty yards away.

Each one of them was looking their way, and Buffy instinctively took a small step back, quickly following it up with another for good measure. She tugged at Faith's hand as she turned away from the dozen-strong welcome party. “Run.”

----------

Night had arrived quickly, the light of day disappearing in what seemed like only a handful of minutes. The large, single star in the sky was the only remaining source of light, and even that was largely kept at bay by the thick, tangled clusters of branches overhead. Whenever there was an opening, a small spotlight would shine ominously down onto the ground, and the small patches of light did just enough to illuminate the path they were following through the dense forest. Buffy felt disconcerted knowing that they had no idea where it would lead them, and what had seemed like a desolate and almost peaceful place in the day had become eerie and suffocating with the change of time and scenery.

Their sprinting had regressed to a brisk walk once they'd reached the forest. Not only to ensure they didn't run face first into one of the many trees that blended so easily into the blackness, but also because they'd agreed to save their energy until it was more unequivocally needed. Buffy didn't know if they'd made a clean getaway, but at the same time she hoped they'd put enough distance between themselves and their pursuers to at least make it a possibility.

She also wished she'd thought to pick up a coat before heading out to look for Faith. Light wasn't the only thing that had vanished with the day; she could see her breath hold in front of her each time she exhaled into the frosty air. Even though she was wearing a woollen cardigan fit for Winter, and even with her arms huddled closely around her body, she couldn't keep away what was quickly becoming a steady stream of shivers.

Faith must have been paying more attention than she was letting on because suddenly she was shrugging off her leather jacket. “Here, take this.”

“No, I'm OK,” Buffy replied, both trying and failing miserably to keep her body from trembling even as she spoke.

“Really? Cause you kinda look like an Eskimo.”

“Don't Eskimos have those big, fluffy coats? Pretty sure if I had one of those I'd be nice and toasty right about now. Besides, then you'll just be cold instead.”

As Faith held out her jacket in one hand, Buffy noticed two things. Firstly that the bracelet she had given Faith the previous night still hung from her wrist, and she briefly wondered whether she should even try to draw any conclusions from that. At the very least she took some comfort from knowing that it hadn't already been melted down. Secondly, she realized that Faith wasn't exactly decked out for the Christmas season. “And you're wearing a t-shirt? You've probably already got hypothermia. Put it back on.”

Faith's held out arm didn't retreat. “Don't worry about me. Spent plenty of Winter nights in Boston without heating and I'm still kicking.”

Buffy's eyes stayed on Faith's bracelet for a little longer before she reluctantly reached out to accept the jacket, giving Faith a small smile as she did so. She wasn't even afforded enough time to put it on before she caught a fast-moving blur out the corner of her eye. “Did you see that?” she asked as she spun around.

“See what?”

“I don't know. I think there's something there.” They both stood perfectly still, but the forest was unnaturally silent. There were no sounds from nearby insects or animals, and no wind to rustle the leaves that were scarcely scattered across the branches.

“I don't hear anything,” Faith said, reaching for her stake before her hand stopped in mid-air. “Wouldn't mind getting my stake back though.”

“Huh?” It took a second before Buffy remembered where Faith stored her weapon. “Oh, sorry.” She unbundled Faith's jacket to gain access to the inner pocket, but even with one eye still on the look out she was unexpectedly taken from her feet. The jacket fell from her hands as she went down, and her elbows took the brunt of the fall.

Patches of short, thick hair, as black as the surrounding night, covered up much of her attacker's scabby, grey skin. Angry, dark-red eyes quickly ran down the length of Buffy's body as it snorted its satisfaction. Down on its four short legs, it didn't stall for long, and its sharp teeth sunk deep into her calf before she had time to scramble away. The soft tissue offered no protection from the attack, and she cried out in pain, squirming uncontrollably as the long pair of fangs pushed straight through muscle until she felt them grind against her bone.

Faith's boot landed right underneath the middle of its elongated body, and the creature flipped through the air, vanishing back into the darkness. Buffy groaned as its fangs were ripped back out from her leg. Her palms pressed into her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain that had stayed behind.

“B!” Faith was crouched by Buffy's side in a moment, one hand reassuringly placed on Buffy's arm, the other lingering close to her gaping wound. “You OK?”

Buffy shook her head, too shocked to try and speak through her ragged breathing. Her shivering had increased ten-fold, but nowhere more so than in her right leg. It felt like the creature's teeth were still right there, pressing their way straight through her body. The pain was so intense that she couldn't even feel the blood that oozed out from the opening. She had only just started to force herself to a sitting position to get a better look at the damage when a loud, coarse growl erupted up into the sky.

A hand on her shoulder eased her back. “Stay down,” Faith commanded before rising to her feet and stepping over Buffy's prone body toward where the creature had been knocked away.

It dived from the shadows without further warning, leaving Faith with little time to react. The two tumbled over Buffy to the floor, and Faith quickly got both hands out to shove the beast away. It rolled over before skidding to a stop as its claws dug into the ground. It steadied itself on all four feet, and its knees bent until its body was flush with the ground. Faith kept almost as low, one knee still on the ground along with the tips of her fingers.

Two sharp teeth protruded down from the top of the beast's mouth, not unlike the tusks of a walrus, though with some size sacrificed for a refined sharpness. Fresh blood coated much of their length, and even the very tops that hadn't sunk their way through Buffy's skin were marred by a red tinge.

The two pushed forward at the same time, the creature rising up on its back legs as its front paws pounded into Faith's shoulders. She dug her feet in, unwilling to give up any ground, and her hands pushed against the creature's neck, keeping its teeth from gnawing at her face. She grunted as sharp claws dug through the sleeves of her t-shirt, and she retaliated with a knee to its unguarded underbelly. Its back legs skidded out from under it, leaving it back on all four feet, and Faith quickly drove her boot across the side of its face, eliciting a loud click as its head snapped to the side.

Behind her, Buffy was trying to block out the pain and rouse herself to help. She struggled to her feet, letting her healthy leg do all of the lifting. A few deep breaths helped to keep her steady, but the moment she planted the foot of her injured leg against the floor she knew she was in trouble; her leg gave way immediately, and she cried out once more as she crumpled awkwardly to her knees. The pain intensified, pounding its way up to her head. She could feel her consciousness trying to creep away from her, trying to protect itself from the torment, and her fingers raked into the hard soil as she desperately fought to hold on to it. She blinked her eyes, gritted her teeth, focused on regulating her breathing; everything she could to keep herself awake.

The creature hadn't given up, and instead had managed to turn the tides on Faith. Stuck on her back with the thing staring hungrily down at her, she was only just keeping it at bay with a single, shaking, held out arm. Saliva had begun to run down its teeth as it slowly forced its head ever closer to her face. She was quick to turn her head to the side as the dollop that had collected at the bottom of one tooth fell loose. It landed on her cheek and her face contorted in disgust. “So gross,” she muttered in a strained voice.

In no state to join the fight, Buffy focused on doing the only thing she could to help. She rummaged through Faith's jacket until she found her way to the inner pocket. “Faith, here,” she called out before rolling the stake along the ground.

Faith's free hand shot out to grab the weapon as it moved into distance, and she reared back before thrusting her arm upward. The wooden shaft pierced straight through the underside of the creature's head. Blood began to gargle from its mouth, and Faith shoved it to one side before rolling in the opposite direction. It pushed itself back to its feet, took a few shaky steps forward, and then collapsed to the ground, blood immediately beginning to pool around its motionless head.

Faith didn't let her eyes linger on it for long, waiting only a couple of beats to decide the job was done before she returned to her friend's side. Buffy was busy prodding at her wound, and Faith gently tugged her hand away. “Don't. You might infect it or something.”

Buffy pulled her hand free. “My leg was almost torn off by a rabid hell beast. Little late to be worrying about cleanliness,” she snapped. Her breathing was still laborious. She was beginning to panic, and that in turn was leaving her feeling light headed. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Being a Slayer meant that her wounds had the useful tendency to close up fast, but she wasn't feeling particularly patient right then. “Sorry, I just...” She slouched forward, her head dropping into her hands.

“Hey, you'll be OK,” Faith reassured her, giving her arm a squeeze.

Buffy shook her head and bit back the tears that were trying to surface. She didn't feel OK – not even close to it. They had no idea where they were, no clue where they were headed, and she didn't even want to try and walk in case it only confirmed she couldn't.

“Yes you will,” Faith stressed before grabbing her jacket from the ground. She bit at the seam of the shoulder, tearing it enough with her teeth to allow her hands to finish the job. At Faith's touch, Buffy instinctively pulled her leg in. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. We really need to slow the bleeding though.”

Buffy watched her for a few moments, noticing that, despite her encouragement, her features looked just as worried as she felt. Nodding her agreement, she slowly stretched out her leg again to allow Faith access. She stayed silent as her ankle was carefully lifted up to rest over Faith's knee, leaving her calf suspended in the air. Faith tore a small strip from the separated sleeve and used it to delicately mop at the blood, and Buffy was quick to close her eyes, deciding she didn't want to see how bad the wound underneath looked just yet. The series of light, soothing strokes went some way to helping her calm down, though she couldn't help but let out a low hiss when the rest of the material was finally pulled tight around her leg.

“Sorry. Here.” Faith draped the jacket around Buffy's shoulders, holding it in place while Buffy slipped one arm into the remaining sleeve. “Better than nothing, right?”

Buffy turned her head to look at Faith and managed to smile a little. “Thank you.”

Faith nodded, and then her attention was drawn to the way they'd come. Buffy had heard it too – the snapping of twigs not too far from them.

Faith was instantly to her feet, looking down at a motionless Buffy. “B, we need to move.”

----------

“Everything OK?” Oz asked Willow as he moved to sit beside her on the bed.

“Huh?” Willow replied, turning away from the phone on the bedside table to look at Oz.

“You seem distracted.”

“It's nothing.” Oz watched her silently, and it didn't take long before Willow changed her tune. “It's Buffy. She... I guess you could say she sort of had a fight with Faith.”

“Oh.” Oz winced a little. “Was there blood?”

“No. No physical violence involved. Just... words.”

“Well that doesn't sound so bad.”

“I know. It's just Buffy was going around tonight to, err, make things up, and she said she'd call to let me know how it went.”

“And because she hasn't, you're worried it didn't go well?” Oz guessed, and Willow gave a small nod. “Well, maybe they sorted things out and went patrolling. It is pretty much that time of night.”

“I'm not so sure. Between those two? That's a whole lot of stubborn. What if they did come to blows?” There was a short delay before that question sunk in, and then she shot to her feet as panic crept into her voice. “Oh God. What if they did fight? Buffy could be hurt. Or worse. Much worse. What if--”

“Hey,” Oz said, cutting her off as he too stood up. “They've seemed on the same page lately, haven't they?” he asked diplomatically.

Willow considered that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” Her worried frown held in place.

“Then I don't think we need to send out the rescue party just yet. Come on, come to bed. You can call her in the morning.”

Willow bit at her bottom lip as she stole a glance at the telephone. She mulled it over before deciding that Oz was probably right, and she forced a smile to her face. “You're right. You know what? I bet they're gleefully dusting vamps together right as we speak.”

----------

Buffy and Faith hadn't moved far, and the former knew full well that she was the reason why. She could only just manage to hobble her way forward, slow enough that Faith was having to dawdle to avoid leaving her behind. Unsurprisingly, the occasional noises from their followers seemed to be steadily closing in, and whether it was more of those werewolf-like creatures or the horde of demons on their trail, Buffy knew they couldn't afford to be caught.

She stopped and slouched down against a tree, instantly feeling the relief as the weight was lifted from her bad leg.

Faith stopped just as quick. “Come on, B, we need to keep going.”

Buffy weakly shook her head. Each step felt harder to take than the last, and she could feel herself slowing down even more with each one. “I can't. God, I really can't.”

“Yes you can,” Faith said as she moved to stand over her. “We just need to keep going long enough to find a turn off and we can shake them.”

“Not us. You.”

“What?” Faith asked incredulously.

“You need to keep going. Find a way back to Sunnydale.” If Buffy was going to go down, she wasn't about to drag Faith – not to mention the rest of their world – along with her.

“Screw that.”

“Faith, you have to. If they catch us we're both dead, and then there's no one left to stop the demons opening up an all-expenses-paid portal to Sunnydale.”

“I guess that sucks for Sunnydale.”

“Faith!” Shock raised her voice before she could even consider the very real need to keep quiet.

“You seriously expect me to just leave you behind? You've never given up on me; I sure as hell ain't giving up on you.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm only going to slow you down.”

Faith ducked under Buffy's arm, and despite Buffy's resistance she hoisted her all the way up, getting an unappreciative groan in response.

“Don't--”

Faith quickly cut her off. “Just shut up and hop.”

Being offered little other choice, Buffy kept moving, half limping, half being dragged as they slowly carried on. She considered the option of turning off the path, but the trees around them were closely packed together, and she was definitely in no shape to try and clamber through them in the dark. Especially if there were other things out there waiting to pounce.

It didn't take long before Faith spoke up again, a cheesy grin on her face as she did. “You know, I can just carry you if it's easier. Damsel in distress style.”

“Don't even think about it,” Buffy warned.

“Nobody will ever know. Well, except me, but I promise not to bring it up in public.”

Buffy groaned, that time at Faith rather than the pain in her leg, though she was glad that there didn't appear to be any signs of Faith's frosty reception hanging around. “Can we not just let the demons kill me and get it over with already?”

“Come on, B, you're gonna be fine. I've seen worse. Like this one guy I knew, ended up with a crowbar right through his kidney.”

“Really? What happened to him?”

Faith paused for a moment before furrowing her brow. “You know what, forget I mentioned it.”

Buffy gave a high-pitched whimper, but she couldn't help but smile at Faith's clumsy attempt at reassurance. “You really suck at being comforting.”

“Points for effort though, right?”

Buffy smirked. She had no idea how Faith could sound so upbeat given their current predicament, but she was glad for anything that could help her feel more at ease. “We'll see.”

----------

“In there,” Faith said, pointing to the opening of a large cave while her other hand remained wrapped around Buffy's waist.

Buffy looked over, taking an instant dislike to everything from the state of the crumbling walls to the scraggly shape of the opening. “Bad plan. What if it doesn't go anywhere? What if it's too dark to see? What if we fall down a hole into a pit of lava?”

“Well we can't keep running forever. Or at least you can't. Your leg's probably about to drop off.”

“Faith!” Buffy whined, the thought alone enough to make her face scrunch up in disapproval. She was used to having two legs and she'd much rather keep the both of them.

“Kidding. It looks fine. Best leg this side of hell – except mine of course.”

That earned Faith a half-hearted elbow to the ribs. Buffy looked back, then forward again, noting that both directions were filled with nothing but the same thin trail leading between the seemingly never-ending layers of dense bark. “I'm sure I'm going to regret saying this, but OK.” She realized that Faith had a point, and they didn't exactly have a whole lot of time to debate their options.

It didn't take long after entering the cave before its walls were lined with enough torches to easily illuminate their path, immediately putting to rest one of Buffy's worries. Even though they could see where they were going, the ground was uneven, and so they had to tread carefully as they followed the one available route. It curved and veered sharply downward, taking them deeper and deeper below the surface.

“I don't like this,” Buffy said after a few minutes, putting her hand on Faith's arm to bring them to a stop.

“Well we can't exactly hang around here, and it's a little late to go back, which means we've only got one choice.”

Buffy scanned the area. “Or we hide in those,” she said, nodding to the far wall.

Faith looked over to see what Buffy was motioning at. A trio of large, stone blocks protruded from the walls of the cave, a dark lining close to the front of each one suggesting they could perhaps be pried open.

“So let me get this straight: you were worried the cave wouldn't go anywhere, but you want us to hide in a freaking box?”

“You were right. We can't keep running. The more we do, the farther we get from the portal that brought us here. What if that's the only way back? We can't afford to get lost.”

“We're in the wrong dimension, B. I'd say that's already pretty damn lost.”

Buffy sighed. “Look, if we hide and they pass us we can double back the way we came. Maybe find something we recognise and go from there.”

“Right. So do you want to get in first while I gift wrap you?”

The faint echo of a rough voice from farther up the tunnel turned Buffy's head nervously. “Faith, please, we don't have time. Just trust me, OK?”

Faith didn't look at all pleased with the plan, but she nodded her agreement, and Buffy smiled her appreciation. After freeing herself from Faith's hold, Buffy gingerly hobbled over toward the first in the line of boxes. Walking was still difficult, and the pain started getting worse almost instantly. She dug her fingers into the crack to pry open the front of the box, and the marred remains of a skeleton greeted her. Its rotted bones were entangled within a layer of moss that had grown against the damp cave wall within. It wasn't quite what she had hoped for, though she didn't know why she'd expected anything more hospitable.

“Nuh-uh,” Faith said from over her shoulder. “Screw that. I'd rather fight the army.”

Buffy turned back to find Faith looking rather queasy, her skin having picked up a tinge of green. “You'll be fine. It'll only be for a few minutes.” She carefully backed herself into the coffin, doing her best to avoid contact with the current occupant, and she then waited expectantly for Faith to begin moving toward the next one over before pulling the lid shut.

She couldn't believe that Faith of all people had such a huge issue with what they were doing. It's not as if she was thrilled about being stuck in a small space with a dead body herself, but she'd sooner stand against a skeleton than become one.

Her coffin started to open, and she froze, her eyes widening. She let out a held breath, her body relaxing instantly when she found Faith stood in front of her. After the initial shock had passed, she found herself wondering what Faith was up to. Her confusion only grew further when the other girl squeezed herself in and awkwardly reached behind herself to pull the lid shut again.

“Faith!” Buffy hissed, doing her best to keep her voice low. “I meant in a different one.”

“The other one was pretty full.”

“So is this one!”

Their bodies were kept close together in the confined space. There was little light making its way inside, and Buffy could only just make out the outline of Faith's features. Their faces hovered only a few inches away, and she could feel Faith's warm breath blow over her skin. Other than the whites of her teeth, the girl's eyes were the only other feature Buffy could fully see, and she found herself with nowhere to look but straight into them.

“Well I can always go back out there and get killed if you want,” Faith offered.

Buffy sighed. “No. Just--” Her train of thought instantly changed direction when she felt Faith's leg rub up against her own. “Stop wriggling!”

“Sorry,” Faith said, even as she adjusted herself once more. “Hiding in a coffin is just kinda gross, you know.”

“You're not the one pressed up against a corpse.”

Faith's smirk was audible. “Thought you'd be used to that.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes, and Faith replied with a playful, lopsided smile as she wriggled her eyebrows.

The sound of approaching footsteps left no time for a comeback, and Buffy shushed the other girl in warning. They stood completely still as the sounds of stomping boots began making their way past. She knew she should have been more concerned about being found, but it was hard to shift her focus away from the feeling of Faith's chest raising against her own with every intake of breath. There was still some leeway for movement toward the back of the coffin, but she found herself more inclined to stay close than press herself farther into the bony remains behind her.

She realized that their positioning was far from ideal if they were found. Faith wasn't even facing the right way to fight back, and she herself was basically pinned in place. Her arms were stuck down by her sides, and she didn't think she could even get them past Faith if she needed to knock anyone back. She gave it a try, but found she couldn't squeeze her hand farther than the outside of Faith's thigh.

Faith moved her head closer, her mouth coming right up against the side of Buffy's face. “Getting frisky now, are we?” she whispered. Her lips briefly brushed against the rim of Buffy's ear as she spoke, and they felt soft and warm against Buffy's skin.

Buffy took a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes widened as much as they could possibly manage. She instantly returned her hand to her side, her arm straightening and tensing tight. She could already feel her cheeks start to burn. She prayed it was too dark for Faith to notice, but she wouldn't have been at all surprised if the embarrassed glow could be easily seen from half way up the cave.

Faith's mouth remained close, and Buffy was sure the girl's breathing had quickened, not unlike her own. She could feel the warm breath blowing over the side of her neck, and the small patch of skin there began to tingle. She shut her eyes, trying to focus on something else – vampires, demons, dying in a strange hell dimension – but her rapidly beating heart refused to let her mind wander far.

Could Faith hear it, Buffy wondered. The beating. She couldn't hear anything else. At that moment she registered that they must be alone again. There were no footsteps. No words. Just her fast, rhythmic pulse threatening to chop a few more years off her already low life expectancy.

“Faith,” she was barely able to whisper, having to concentrate hard to form the single syllable.

“Yeah?” Faith breathed the word right into her ear. While Buffy's voice was nervous, Faith managed to make the single, throaty utterance sound strong. Sultry. And it was more than enough for the rest of Buffy's planned words to become a garbled mess in her head.

She couldn't reply, and Faith's head moved back across, coming in to line with her own. Buffy was finding it increasingly more difficult to look away, drawn into the dark, unblinking amber eyes. She swallowed hard. Her mouth opened, but she found herself incapable of making a sound. She fought hard just to drag her eyes down. Maybe more light had crept inside, or maybe she had adjusted to the dark; she could easily make out Faith's lips, parted ever so invitingly, and it did nothing to comfort her nerves. Her tongue ran across her lips before she let her gaze trail back up. Back into Faith's intense eyes.

Faith was watching her, poised and perfectly still, and Buffy began to understand exactly what it was she was waiting for. She could see Faith's barely pinched eyebrows and the slight quiver of her top lip. It should have been easier to miss, and yet through the darkness she could see it perfectly: the apprehension peeking out from behind Faith's usual bravado. That's when she knew that her apologies and explanations, no matter how honest and heartfelt, had ultimately been little more than throwaway words for Faith.

Perhaps she'd been too busy putting all of that together, or maybe she'd finally managed to stop over thinking everything, but either way she didn't realize what she was doing next until it was already well under way. One moment she was absorbed in Faith's gaze. The next she was leant forward, eyes closed, her lips pressing eagerly against Faith's as if they were the only worthwhile thing left in the world. And Faith was kissing back with just as much need, her soft, supple skin welcoming the approach.

The cramped enclosure offered little room for movement, but Faith's hands had managed to find their way under Buffy's top to her hips. She leaned into them, grateful both for their support and for the way the fingers soothingly stroked up and down.

The throbbing from her ankle faded into the background, becoming nothing more than a forgotten memory. The heat from the blood that had been frantically working to clog her wound surged up to her abdomen, warming every inch of her body that it passed along the way.

Her worries flitted from her mind, leaving behind only one single – slightly odd – line of thought. She couldn't put her finger on when exactly she'd given it any consideration, but apparently at some point she'd decided that Faith would be an aggressive kisser. She was currently being proven wrong. Faith's lips were pushing against her own with no small amount of urgency, but each movement seemed painstakingly delicate. She seemed to be letting Buffy set the pace, and now that her jitters had fallen away that was perfectly fine with her.

Faith let out a low moan as Buffy's teeth lightly nipped at her bottom lip, and that simple sound of contentment sent a pang of electricity rifling down Buffy's spine. Her back arched inward in response, her body moulding into Faith's. Faith's hands slid around to her back, running smoothly across her skin, and Buffy murmured her appreciation as she let her body sink into them.

She lifted her hands to cup the back of Faith's neck, pulling gently to urge her closer still. Faith responded as she'd hoped, kissing her more firmly. Losing herself in the rush of adrenaline and excitement, she purred into Faith's mouth. Her hands snaked up through the girl's hair, each fingertip working together to massage her scalp, and the sensation of Faith's sudden inhale sucking the air from her own mouth made her shiver.

When the requests of her pounding heart became loud enough to break through her haze she finally, reluctantly, pulled back. It might have been a good thing as well; only then did she realize just how carried away she had gotten. Her eyes slowly opened to lock straight back on to Faith's. The girl's hands still lingered in place around her body, and, content simply to remain in their warm, protective embrace, she let the side of her head rest against Faith's shoulder.

The silence was comfortable, but despite having no strong desire to be anywhere but right there, wrapped in Faith's arms, she knew they still had to deal with the slight issue of being a long way from home. Despite that, she still allowed herself a little more time to savour the moment before they had to return to the less pleasant part of their reality.

“We should probably--” Her voice hitched in her throat when Faith's thumb started running small circles over the small of her back. Fighting hard to keep her eyes from slipping shut, she gave a single nod toward the casket lid; about the only action she could convincingly manage at the time.

“Right. We probably should,” Faith agreed, not stopping the slow, delicate movement.

“Right.”

Faith's lips were on hers again. That time Buffy hadn't moved an inch, but she responded without pause.

Faith and Buffy emerged from their shared coffin and stood alone under the soft light of the nearby torches, their pursuers hopefully long gone into the depths of the cave. Faith threw a half-hearted glance at the downward sloping path. Normally her curiosity would have gotten the better of her and she'd have been marching down there to see who or what it might lead to, but her attention already had plenty of focus.

That focus was busy pulling at her jumper, craning her neck over her shoulder to try and examine the material covering her back. “Please don't let me be covered in entrails,” Buffy mumbled, seemingly to herself. She looked back around, quietening completely when she caught Faith watching her. A shy smile crept over her face as her head dropped.

The silence that followed felt neither painfully awkward nor completely comfortable to Faith. She might have come up with something trivial to say to fill it had she not been too busy telling herself over and over again that she hadn't just imagined the previous ten minutes. She'd never been sure where the line between herself and Buffy lay. When it came to softly spoken words and gentle, caring touches, she could – with a smattering of well-earned pessimism – just about dissuade herself from believing they were meant as anything more than gestures of friendship. But while her life may have been light on real friends, she wasn't completely cut off from the world. She knew that, by and large, people didn't kiss their friends. At least not like that. That was something more. It was intense. And more importantly: Buffy had initiated it. OK, so Faith had extended somewhat of an open invitation, but Buffy had still taken it and that had to mean something. Didn't it? A look at her arms proved otherwise, but she still felt like she was shaking. Like she might just explode at any given moment – and not in a bad way.

Get a grip, she ordered herself. Be cool. Don't be a freak. The last thing she wanted was to scare Buffy off by acting like her life had just been turned upside down – even if that's exactly how it felt. “So what now?” she finally asked.

Buffy scratched at the back of her head as she looked up again. “Emm, I guess we should head back the way we came. I mean that's still our best bet, right?”

That wasn't what Faith had been getting at, and while she nodded her agreement she also mentally chided herself for being so vague. “Yeah, sure.” She didn't know why turning back would do them much good, but she didn't have any better ideas and wasn't sure if she cared all that much. Whether she wound up in Sunnydale or the very depths of Hell themselves, as long as Buffy was with her then she figured she could find a way to adjust.

Despite her own suggestion, Buffy still stood rooted to the spot, and Faith hadn't forgotten about Buffy's injury. “You OK to walk?” she asked.

“I think so.” Buffy lifted her leg and gave it a small shake, demonstrating that there was at least some life still left in it. “Though I wouldn't be completely opposed to taking it slow for now.”

Faith nodded again. She studied Buffy's face carefully, trying to decide whether the reassuring smile was only an act of bravery or if the worst of the pain had really passed. Of course if Faith was actually any good at reading Buffy then she might not have spent months on end questioning every single thing the girl said and did. Instead she did the only thing she could: she took Buffy's words at face value, she decided she'd simply kill anything that even tried to get close to her, and she'd make damned sure she got her home in one piece.

----------

“Good news, Ethan.”

Ethan gave the front door a firm push and left if to close of its own accord.“How is it that every time I come home there's unwanted guests waiting?”

Jacob shrugged. “The latch on your side window is broken. The thing comes right open.”

Ethan headed straight for it, easily sliding up the pane with a single pull. Looking at the latch at the base, he gave it an experimental prod. It fell loose and plummeted straight out of the open window. “Well what do you know. And that counts as a standing invitation around these parts, does it?”

“I could have come back later, but I figured since the Slayers are dead you'd probably want to know sooner.”

That caught Ethan's attention, and the broken and wide open window was instantly forgotten as he turned his full attention to Jacob.

“Or at least they will be soon,” Jacob added, the additional information enough to halt the smile that had begun to grow on Ethan's face.

“Ah. Well which is it? I hate to be a stickler for details, but until a new Slayer lands in the council's lap I doubt I'll be getting what I want.”

Jacob paced with no real aim, showing some minor interest in the various items Ethan had placed around the room. “You know, Ethan, you worry too much for a man your age.” He picked up a small, spherical object from above the fireplace and started turning it over in his hand. “Can't be healthy.”

Ethan walked up behind him, grabbing it before Jacob could get much of a look at it. “I've found you need to show a little concern to make it to my age. Something you ought to bare in mind if you're going to go around touching things you know nothing about.”

Jacob continued to wander, though with his attention now on Ethan. “If they're not dead, they will be soon enough. Either way, I'd say that's mission accomplished. You can go back to England and put your feet up. Have a cup of tea. Whatever it is you like to do. I'll let you know if anything changes.”

“I'm touched, but if it's all the same to you I think I'll stick around. And if what you say is true then I think it's about time to clean up this mess before things get too out of hand. Wouldn't want an apocalypse on our hands now, would we?”

Jacob noisily sucked in a deep breath of air. “Right, the military. About that. Me and the guys took a vote, and it turns out there's been a slight change of plan there. ”

A knowing smirk emerged on Ethan's face. “Has there now?”

The front door clicked open and a broad man sporting the remains of a black eye stepped inside, closing the door again behind him. A third cultist appeared from the adjoining room, leaving Ethan surrounded. “You've honestly been a great help,” Jacob said, “and if you tell me where the army are camped out then maybe we can work together again some time.”

“And if I don't? Wait, no, I know this one: I'm not going to leave here alive,” Ethan said dryly.

Jacob shrugged, showing no real emotion. “That's about the gist of it.”

“I see.” Ethan tossed the small spherical object a short distance in the air, letting it land on the tips of his fingers. He looked down at it and sighed. “A pity really, but at least we can all go out with a bang.” With a single flick of his wrist he casually pushed the object forward. Jacob and the two others lost their smiles and dived for anything that remotely resembled cover in the sparsely furnished room. Ethan moved just as quick, turning to clamber out of the open window into the safety of the alleyway.

After hitting the floor with a loud thud, the small, heavy object continued to roll slowly across the room until it came to a stop against the wall. The three cultists stayed in place for several moments, the room remaining just as still and silent as each of them. Eventually Jacob risked crawling out from behind a hastily overturned table, remaining on his hands and knees as he cautiously approached the object. Once in reaching distance, he hesitated for a moment before grabbing it. He turned it over in his hand until he spotted the '$4.95” price tag still stuck on the slightly flattened base on one side. “It's a freaking paperweight,” he shouted at the others. “Get after him.”

----------

Buffy stuck close to Faith as they walked slowly through the forest, hanging back a single step so she could take the occasional glance at the other girl without being too obvious about it. Faith seemed to be on high alert, her eyes sweeping back and forth along the route ahead. They hadn't said a whole lot of anything to each other since leaving the cave, leaving the only sound Buffy could hear being that of her mind whirring away.

She felt strange. Not bad; just strange. Admitting there might be something between her and Faith – not only to Willow, but even to herself – had been confusing enough, but doing something about it had left her completely thrown. That wasn't her. She'd never been so brazen. Not even back in Los Angeles when she'd been the popular girl at the centre of every boy's radar. But the Buffy of recent years was especially reserved. Cautious. Bashful to the point that she sometimes annoyed herself. Sometimes it felt like Slaying was all she could to do these days; like she no longer knew how to fit in with the rest of the world. Like if she tried she'd somehow manage to mess everything up – and she very nearly had. But less than an hour ago she'd cast out her safety net, set the thing on fire, and then kicked the charred remains into the wind. She'd even been about three seconds away from disrobing Faith there and then – spatially insufficient coffin be damned – on two separate occasions in the space of five minutes.

And – a coffin! That was completely gross, and icky, and – and she hadn't cared one bit, she realized. It hadn't mattered because she'd been so lost in Faith's eyes. So at home in her touch. Oh, there was definitely something between them; she couldn't deny that any longer even if she'd wanted to. And she really didn't want to.

As it stood though, they were floating in some uncharted middle ground. Were they dating? She supposed not; she still didn't know if Faith was after anything more than physical intimacy. The plan had been to find that out before doing anything rash; unfortunately, like with much of her life, things just didn't seem to pan out the way they were meant to. Her heart had taken it up on itself to bound ahead on its own, and the rest of her had been left wondering if rejection now would still be enough to shred her insides.

Another quick glance. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, knowing full well she wouldn't discover any huge revelations without gathering together the courage to ask, but what she did find that time was Faith looking back at her. “Something up?” Faith asked.

“Nothing,” Buffy replied without hesitation, getting a questioning eyebrow in response. She really, really did want to talk to Faith about what had happened, but she couldn't quite bring herself to yet. Mostly because she was scared of the answers; if she was going to be shot down then she'd prefer it to be done with the nearby comfort of her bed and Mr Gordo. That left deflection as the far safer option and so with a bit of quick thinking she added, “Just making sure you weren't all wrinkly and grey.”

“Making sure I wasn't what now?” Faith's eyebrow wasn't going anywhere but further up.

“Well, alternate dimensions can have different, err, time flows, I guess. Like one day here could actually be a hundred years to you and me.”

“Oh. That part of the Slayer curriculum or something? Because I must have dozed through that one.”

“More past experience.”

Faith eyed her with disbelief. “Hang on. You're seriously telling me you've been sucked into some weird ass dimension before?”

Buffy frowned slightly. She wasn't sure why that would be so hard to believe; it's not like they weren't in that very predicament right then. “Only briefly. More of a drop-in visit really.”

Faith took some time to consider that new information. “OK, so then how'd you get out last time?”

Buffy paused for a long moment before replying. “Would you believe I climbed up through the ceiling?”

Faith slowly tilted her head to the sky, holding it in place for a couple of seconds before she looked back at Buffy. “Not sure that's gonna work out too well, B.”

“Probably not.” Buffy turned to start walking again. She stumbled as she took her first step but managed to remain on her feet. That didn't stop Faith's arm from reacting quickly, her hand shooting out to steady Buffy.

“You OK?” The concern was rife on Faith's face, her piercing eyes questioning Buffy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.” Buffy forced a brave smile to her face. “Just being a klutz.” She hesitated briefly before trying again, that time managing what should have been a simple feat. “See? All is good.”

Faith didn't look entirely convinced, but Buffy wasn't about to offer anything more. She was trying not to pay too much attention to the way the pain continued to slowly spread through her leg. She was still trying to cling to the hope that it would magically begin to fade, and it wasn't as if Faith was a qualified doctor with a specialization in otherworldly bites. Besides, so far Faith had remained surprisingly positive about the entire ordeal, and Buffy wasn't about to take that away from her.

----------

Dusty pathways, the occasional heap of rocks, and patches of greenery stretched out in every direction. Since leaving the forest that's about all the two Slayers had seen, and it was leaving Buffy thoroughly unimpressed with their hell away from home. Sure, Sunnydale wasn't exactly the most happening town on the planet – supernatural activity aside – but this was pretty much a huge, glorified field, she thought to herself. Would one single Starbucks – preferably with some nice, comfy seats and a handy first aid kit – have been too much to ask for? It sure seemed that way.

For the lack of anything better to do, she waited, watching sceptically as Faith surveyed the area. Faith was searching for some remains from the makeshift portal that had brought them there, but Buffy wasn't even wholly convinced they were actually in the same place they'd started out. It wasn't that it didn't look similar enough, only that so had every one of the the last half dozen miles. She didn't point that out to Faith, knowing that it didn't really matter; if it wasn't the right place then she doubted they'd accidentally stumble across it anyway. All she knew was that there was no handily placed 'Exit' sign and that she could have done without the long, gruelling walk to get there. She needed Giles or even Willow. She was way out of her element, stuck grasping at straws, and she couldn't help but feel that nothing short of dumb luck was going to get her and Faith back home.

Her pessimism and bad leg gotten the better of her, and she sank to the floor to rest against a large rock. It felt like she'd spent the entire night slow-roasting her limb over an open fire and now it was becoming criminally overcooked. Despite her better judgement, she began to unravel the material from Faith's jacket to see just how bad it had gotten. It didn't take long to peel away the thin layer of protection, and even though she thought she was prepared for the worst, she gulped as her eyes set upon the damage hidden below.

Blood had already clotted over the wound, allowing her some solace from knowing she wasn't about to bleed to death. However the good news came to an abrupt end there. Black lines of various sizes, some of them thick enough to resemble liquorice pencil candy, lay visible just beneath her skin. The messy web of lines extended outward from the centre of the wound, spreading far enough to reach the sides of her leg. The sight of it made her skin crawl; or maybe that sensation was actually the dark, disgusting veins thrashing about beneath her skin.

“How bad is it?”

Forcing her eyes away, Buffy looked up to find she had Faith's full attention. Somehow her leg felt worse than it looked, which even she found hard to believe, but she wasn't about to admit to anyone but herself that she was about five seconds away from throwing up at the sight alone. “It's fine. I just need a couple of minutes,” she offered instead.

“Yeah, you look real swell. Seriously, how bad?”

Buffy frowned and let her gaze drop to the floor. “It's felt better,” she admitted after a short silence. She sighed as she ran her hands back through her hair. An undeniable realization was setting in; she wouldn't last long in her state, and if Faith stuck around, Buffy was going to end up getting them both killed. Catching Faith's eyes once more, she said, “I'm sorry, Faith, I really am. I just... I need you to know that.”

Faith looked at her curiously. “For what?”

“Oh, I don't know, how about getting us stuck here for one thing? And now slowing you down... ruining your birthday. All of it.”

“Not your fault, B,” came Faith's instant reply.

Buffy let our a short, harsh laugh. “Really? Then whose fault is it exactly? If I hadn't...” If she hadn't been a total idiot, Buffy thought. She still felt absolutely horrid for leaving Faith. Already struggling to hold herself together, she skipped over the details of the event itself and went straight to the consequences. “We wouldn't have been out there. We'd have avoided that fight. None of this would have happened.”

“Hey, in case you've forgotten: Slayers in cemeteries? Pretty much a thing. It was gonna happen sooner or later.”

Buffy gave a firm shake of her head, refusing to be let off the hook that easily. “No. Not that cemetery. Not at that time. The only reason this is happening is because... because I made a huge mistake...” Admitting that should have made her feel better, shouldn't it? But it didn't help at all, and she had to pause for a few seconds to make sure the tears stayed down.“If I have to pay for that then I will, but you don't deserve this, and I 'll be damned if I'm going to drag you down with me.”

“Buf--”

“No. Faith, listen. I want you to keep going. I want you to find a way out of here, and I want you to use it. I want--”

“OK, B, how about you shut up and try listening to me for a second. First of all, stop talking like it's already over; we'll figure something out. And secondly, you need to get over this 'leave me behind' bull, cause I'm telling you now: ain't gonna happen, no matter how bad things get. We're both getting out of here, even if I have to carry your whiny ass all the way back to Sunnydale. Got it?”

The interruption was stern – for all of about a dozen words before it softened considerably. By the time Faith had finished she was squatted down, her face level with Buffy's, her trademark grin plastered across her face as she waited expectantly for an answer.

Buffy began to mull over Faith's words before she realized there was no real point; it was clear that Faith was only willing to accept one answer. “Got it,” she said finally, and she couldn't keep back a small, genuine smile despite everything. She didn't understand how Faith could always manage to get that reaction from her with such ease, but she hoped that the tingling in her stomach would never stop accompanying it.

“Good.” Faith lazily slumped down by her side. “'Cause otherwise I'd have had to kick your ass until you saw sense.”

Faith's arm landed around her shoulders, and in an instant Buffy felt that little bit safer. A little bit less like she was doomed. After sitting there for a few minutes, her eyes slipped closed. It must have been approaching an entire day since she'd last gotten any sleep – and even then her head had been spinning far too fast to have managed more than a couple of hours at best. Throw in the fact that they'd spent some unknown number of hours on the move and it was no surprise that she was beginning to run on empty. But this was nice. Faith was barely touching her, but it was still enough to let her relax. The girl's steely resolve had even fed Buffy a twinkling of hope that maybe – just maybe – things really would turn out OK.

All of that was running through her head when suddenly her brow furrowed, almost as it if had a mind of its own. Her eyes opened back up, she pouted, and soon after that she realized why. “Do you really think I'm whiny?”

She heard Faith's short snort of laughter just before she was pulled in close, and she let her head drop to rest against Faith's cheek.

“You know what I think about you, B.”

But she didn't. Not really. Faith hadn't ever really said anything. Did she need to, Buffy wondered. Faith refused be pushed away, instead stubbornly continuing to stick by her side. And even after everything that had happened since Faith first arrived in Sunnydale, Faith was still there night and day, whenever Buffy needed her. Maybe that should have been enough to tell her everything she needed to know, but sooner rather than later she'd need to hear it. Where they stood. What Faith wanted. Whether they had a future together.

Before she'd had a chance to torture herself with too many questions, that earlier twinkling of hope turned out to be very short-lived. Night had already turned back to day, and sat in the middle of a flat, open plane, only a single rock to shield them, the two of them had been left completely exposed – they may as well have been holding up giant, blinking glow sticks for all the difference it would have made. The flip side should have been that they could spot any danger on the horizon with plenty of time left to react. However when the green-skinned mob finally caught up with them, neither girl had been paying much attention to their surroundings.

Buffy wasn't even really sure why she'd opened her eyes and glanced to the side, but she was the first to spot them. “Faith?”

“Mmm?” Faith murmured groggily, sounding like she'd been on the verge of getting some sleep herself. She shifted her head slightly, and Buffy fought to stay focused, ignoring the feeling as Faith's hair brushed against her face.

“You remember earlier how you said you'd stick around no matter what?”

That seemed to have the effect of waking Faith up instantly, and she groaned her disapproval. “B, I'm warning you--”

“No, it's just – well, now might be your last chance to reconsider.”

“Crap.” Faith's arm retreated from around Buffy as the girl hurried to her feet and, to Buffy's surprise, started straight toward the demons.

“Whoa, Faith, wait.” Buffy clutched at the back of Faith's jeans to try and hold her back, but Faith swatted her arm away and continued forward to meet the oncoming crowd.

“Start running,” Faith ordered.

“What? No way.” Knowing that Faith would need her help, Buffy sure as hell wasn't about to run – or, perhaps more accurately, hobble. She shifted herself onto her knees, and then with a deep breath she heaved herself off the floor, groaning loudly as her leg felt like it was about to implode in retaliation.

By the time Buffy was convinced she was steady enough not to topple over, Faith was already facing off against the group of six demons. Given their previous run-ins with the things back in Sunnydale, Faith must have known the odds were heavily stacked against her, but that didn't stop her from meeting them head on. Catching them by surprise, she kicked out without a word, her boot crushing into the front of one's face.

That was all the invitation the rest of them needed, and they quickly spread out to encircle Faith. She continued to kick out repeatedly, trying to keep them at a distance, but the time spent trying to hold off one only gave the others time to tighten the noose. Within a matter of a seconds they swarmed around her, leaving her with no space to properly manoeuvre. She thrust out her elbows to no avail, becoming lost in the see of green while Buffy forced herself forward.

Knowing she'd be better off sticking with her fists, Buffy drove one of them into the spine of the closest demon's back. It growled its disapproval and arched in its back, but it couldn't turn around before Buffy landed another two hits in the same spot. An unseen swing from the next demon over stung her cheek and was enough to knock her off balance. She took a step back to try and steady herself, but her bad leg simply abandoned her.

She crumpled to the floor where she caught a glimpse through the swarm of legs of Faith's limp body lying against the ground. Finished with one Slayer, the rest of the demons switched their focus Buffy's way, and she could do nothing more than grit her teeth and wait for her turn – and she didn't have to wait long.

“Son of a bitch,” Faith murmured down into the cold, stone floor on which she'd just woken up. Her head wasn't pleased, but she seemed to have avoided being concussed; after all, she knew exactly why she was flat on the floor, even if she didn't know where that floor happened to be. “OK, that went a whole lot better in my head.” She rolled lazily onto her back and stretched her arms up before looking around. Seeing that she was alone was enough to jolt her into action. She jumped up and took another look around in case she'd somehow overlooked an unconscious, blonde girl.

She hadn't. The only things keeping her company in the small space were the thick, metal bars on one side, too closely packed to squeeze between even if she spent the next month starving in her cell. The remaining walls were built from solid stone. She picked one side and hammered her fists against it. “B!” she shouted into the wall. “Buffy, wake up!” There was no response, and the opposite side offered the same lacklustre result.

Maybe Buffy had managed to escape. It was a fleeting thought; Faith found it hard to picture her getting away from anything more mobile than a one-legged demon with a severe case of vertigo. She'd hoped to hold off the demons for longer, to give Buffy more of a head start, but after being caught in the back of the leg things had gone downhill fast.

Angry that she hadn't managed to do more, she turned her attention to the front of the cell. Glowering at it, as if it was somehow to blame for everything, she kicked out time and time again, thrusting the base of her foot against the bars. They barely even rattled, not making half the racket she would have liked, but she refused to stop until she'd started to calm down.

Only then did she notice that there was something missing from the front of her cell: a door. She looked to the ceiling, figuring she must have been dropped through some sort of trapdoor, but it looked no less solid than the walls.

Rather than waste time dwelling on how she'd gotten in, she focused on getting out. With her back flat against the wall, she grasped one of the closest bars with both hands. After taking a couple of deep breaths to ready herself, she pushed out with both arms, hoping to shift the bar out of place. She channelled all her strength up through her arms as she tried to extend them. When they began to shake she simply grit her teeth and carried on, pressing harder still, and the resulting sound that escaped her throat was closer to a growl than a groan.

For a moment she was certain the bar was ready to give in, but several seconds later it still stood just as straight as it had started out. “God damn.” Giving up, she lashed out with one final, frustrated kick. Something was off; the bars looked sturdy enough that she didn't expect to easily snap them in half, but she should have been able to do some damage.

Something clicked in her head and then suddenly everything made sense. “I freaking hate magic,” she muttered.

----------

Buffy watched the clear sky – void of clouds or birds – through the scraggly hole in the wall that served as a window. It was large enough that she could squeeze through if she tried, but the straight drop waiting on the other side wasn't all that appealing. She wasn't sure how long she'd fall for, but it was safe to say the ground would win that particular battle. And given that her leg was feeling far better, she'd rather not put an end to that by breaking the both of them. How or why it felt better, she didn't know. While the large scab remained an unwanted reminder of being bit, there was no sign of the black lines that had started to grow across her leg. When she'd woken up on the floor a short time ago they simply weren't there, and she really wasn't about to complain.

With murals carved into the walls in excessive detail, displaying battles between her captors and various species she'd never come across, the room didn't look much like a prison. She still felt very much like a prisoner though, and she doubted the guards – four in total, two at each of the doors leading from the room – would strand aside just because she asked nicely.

She wondered why she wasn't already dead. In her experience, if the bad guys didn't want to kill you it wasn't because they'd suddenly grown a conscience. And where was Faith? Why wasn't she there as well? Buffy didn't have a clue, but she tried desperately not to jump to any awful conclusions. Killing only one of them didn't make any sense, she'd remind herself every time those dark thoughts tried to make themselves heard. Nothing short of laying her eyes on Faith would keep them from trying again though.

She picked up on the low clicking of footsteps moments before the double doors on one side of the room were pulled open. The guards quickly straightened, their eyes still trained her way. Another half a dozen demons filled out the room, each of them armed with pikes or swords, and trailing shortly behind came one more.

Buffy instantly knew the final one was different. Not only because the head of each demon dipped as it passed them by, or because it looked old enough to be the parent of the rest of them, but because her eyes were drawn to the drooping necklace that hung over the top of its dark-golden robe. On it were a variety of small, assorted bones, so tightly packed that she could barely catch a glimpse of the thin material holding them all together.

She studied its face, noticing the wrinkles that covered its forehead and the way its skin drooped around its cheeks. The loose skin almost left the mark burnt into one cheek unrecognisable, and she had to squint a little to convince herself it was the same one Giles had shown her in his books.

“Welcome,” it said, thankfully not offering out one of its bony hands, “to my home. I am Shek K'zar. This-” It held its arms out wide, and if Buffy had still had her stake then she might have driven it straight into the unguarded chest. “-is my world.”

Buffy had already guessed who it was, though from what Giles had told her she'd expected Shek to be a little more warrior-esque. Maybe that had been the case once, but if so then it had definitely succumbed to age. Tall but thin, and with the bones on its wiry wrists almost visible, it didn't look much of a threat to anyone. The welcome had sounded genuine, but oddly enough Buffy wasn't in the mood to return the courtesy. “I know who you are,” she said blandly, letting it know she was unimpressed.

“And I know what you are.” Shek's hand started at the top of the necklace and slowly slid down, two fingers and a thumb plucking at several of the bone fragments as they passed. Reaching the bottom, the demon lifted the necklace up and outward, and the bones slid to either side, showing there was still space for one or two more. “Unfinished business from many ages ago. That will soon change though.”

She understood the implication, but while she still drew breath she wouldn't let her world become a notch on some portable trophy rack. “It's never going to happen.” That was a promise.

“Tell me then, what is it you plan to do about it?”

“Whatever it takes to put every last freak you send in the ground.”

Shek thrust out a finger with the speed of someone who looked like they should be frantically writing their last will and testament. “I don't take kindly to insolence.”

Buffy smirked, not even blinking when its nail stopped only an inch from her eye. “Then maybe you should wait outside.”

Its finger curled back and its arm dropped to its side. It considered her silently for some time before smiling. “It sounds to me as if you still have some fight in you. You're in luck. We have just the thing for that.”

----------

Many of the street lamps running along the desolate street were broken and had likely been that way for some time. One of them had enough life left to occasionally sputter on for a few seconds, flickering light over nearby derelict houses. Ethan looked nervously from side to side, suddenly wondering if cutting through the more dangerous parts of Sunnydale – which really was saying a lot – to keep out of sight was such a smart idea. He couldn't spot anyone, human or otherwise, but he still picked up his pace.

He'd decided that the fate of Sunnydale – and perhaps the rest of the world – would have to rest in someone else's hands. The airport would already be open, and within hours he would be on a flight back to England to collect his prize from the Watcher's Council. He'd be the first to admit that things hadn't gone perfectly, but he congratulated himself on what had ultimately been more successful than not. In fact, he was so busy mulling over his success that he rounded a corner and bumped straight into the demon stood cross-armed in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Mr Rayne. It's been a while.”

Ethan recognised the demon, much to his relief; things seemed to be looking up. It was one he'd done business with recently, and it could offer him just the thing he needed to ensure his final hours in Sunnydale ran smoothly. “Mr Grolloch, I was just thinking about you,” he lied. “I realize this is short notice, but perhaps I could loan a few more men from you – demons, that is. It'll only be for a couple of hours. Straight forward security gig. Nothing lavish.”

The demon spoke in a gruff voice that slowly rumbled out each word. “Do you know what it is that makes it a loan and not a purchase, Mr Rayne?”

“The cheaper prices?” Ethan offered optimistically, but he was suddenly remembering a small detail that might prove to be a deal breaker.

“The return.”

“Ah, yes. About that. You see, it really wasn't my fault. There was an unfortunate--” His excuses became trapped half way up his throat by the tight grip of a four-fingered claw. “Slayer,” he tried to get out by way of explanation, but it came out as more of a gurgle. When the demon released him, he bent over coughing and patted his neck to make sure it was still the right shape.

“My associates found the remains of our last business transaction. They also tell me you turned down the insurance protection plan. Is that right?”

“Well it seemed a tad overpriced at the time.” Ethan gave a nervous grin and stepped backward. The solid wall behind him stopped him from taking any more. There hadn't been any such wall there a moment ago, and he looked over his shoulder to find two other demons behind him. He knew them as the lower level grunts used to send payment reminders to customers. “I don't suppose I could take you up on that offer now?” The leader's response was an unamused snort. “Forget I asked.”

“Boys, see what you can do about making Mr Rayne comfortable. Explain to him what happens when people break my merchandise.”

“Wait, no. I – I can pay you?” Chaos could be a surprisingly expensive hobby sometimes, but he had no intention of actually paying up. He just needed a little more time. “Yes, yes, I can cover any expenses and then some.”

That got the demon's attention, and it nodded its head in interest. “Throw me a number, Mr Rayne.”

Ethan considered it for a moment, wondering what a reasonable offer would be for three dead demons. Surely new supplies shouldn't be too hard to come by, he decided – after all, this was a Hellmouth. “How about two hundred bucks?”

It nodded again, its upper body rocking back and forth along with it, before it looked over to the demons behind Ethan. “Start with his legs.”

Ethan's features twisted in extreme disapproval of that plan. “Wait, err, make that five hundred.”

“If one of them should come off, beat him over the head with it.”

A large hand on each of Ethan's shoulders began to pull him backward toward the alleyway, and he desperately called out, “Three thousand!”

The demon gave a single clap before reaching out to knock away the other demon's hands and straighten out the shoulders of Ethan's shirt. “That's why I like you, Mr Rayne. Your strong business acumen.”

Ethan smiled weakly, but he relaxed a little; the next time they came to collect he'd be a thousand miles away.

“Let's go,” the demon continued. “We'll escort you to the nearest cash machine. Make sure nobody gives you any hassle on the way. Think of it as a good will gesture to our continuing business relationship.”

Ethan's small smile stayed in place only through sheer force of will. “Right now?” he asked.

“Now works for me. Does now work for you, boys?”

“Sure, boss,” and, “Yeah, now's good,” were the simultaneous replies from the underlings, and there was nodding of heads all around, minus Ethan's.

His mind furiously ticked over, and from nothing he suddenly had an idea of how he could turn the whole situation in his favour. And so, with one last roll of the dice, he said, “The thing is, I've never been one to trust my money in other people's grubby mitts. I'm sure you can appreciate that. I'd have to take you to my shop.”

Mr Grolloch didn't seem concerned by this. “Lead the way.” Ethan was nudged forward by one of the demons behind him, and he started walking. “This shop of yours, it have a name?”

Ethan grinned at himself. This could prove very entertaining, he thought. Very entertaining indeed. “The Magic Box.”

----------

Buffy stood in a circular arena, waiting to find out what she'd be facing. The surrounding walls reached only as high as her waist, but if she needed to retreat she'd have to somehow get through the hordes that stood watching from behind them. The single tunnel she'd been herded through offered the only other exit, but she had a sneaking suspension that the gate hanging above it would be coming down real soon.

On paper, the deal wasn't half bad, assuming Shek K'zar was a demon of its word. If she won, both her and Faith could go free. If she lost, Faith would get another chance while Buffy – well, that much was obvious.

Forty feet above her, Shek stood watching from the stone-age equivalent of a director's box. There were no cosy glass walls surrounding it, and she suspected phone-in room service was out of the question, but it offered a pretty nice view of the action. Their eyes met and she stared a silent promise that she wouldn't go down easy, no matter what was sent out through the tunnel.

Another figure stepped up by its side. Buffy's heart skipped a beat, and she was smiling before she knew it. She'd already been told that Faith was alive and well, but seeing the proof with her own eyes was a lot more reassuring. Faith looked back, but her own smile was gloomily short-lived.

She looked dismayed, her posture weary, her features soft and sagging. Buffy couldn't really blame her though; the very idea of being forced to watch as Faith fought to the death made her stomach churn. “I'll be OK,” she mouthed up in an attempt to put Faith at ease, and no sooner had she done so she hoped that her final words to Faith wouldn't be a lie. She wondered if Faith would cry if she did die, but she quickly shook that thought from her head, annoyed at herself for being so morbid.

The crowd erupted, the collection of cheers almost deafening. Buffy found a single, green-skinned demon heading her way. That raised her hopes – it wasn't even as large as the one that had attacked Faith on her birthday. That meant she might have a fighting chance.

Once the demon was stood opposite her, the gate lowered as expected. That must also have served as the proverbial ringing of the bell because the demon instantly started to circle. Keeping her distance, she did the same. She had yet to have the chance for a fair fight with one of their kind, and as soon as the creature withdrew a pair of large axes from behind its back she realized that wasn't about to change any time soon. “I don't suppose one of those is for me?”

It didn't speak a word, but when the answer came it couldn't have been much clearer, and she had to dive to the side to avoid being split in three from head to toe. The twin blades dug into the dirt floor, leaving behind a large pair of dents when they were hoisted back up.

“Didn't think so,” she muttered, her words drowned out by another round of cheers.

The demon came at her again, the swing of its axe looking to take off her head. She didn't struggle to duck under it, but when she stepped forward to go on the offensive she was instantly forced back as the second axe began its own arc.

The battle continued in much the same way, with Buffy remaining on the defensive, doing enough to keep herself alive without making any solid progress. Any opening the demon left was small and risky, but she knew she'd need to gamble on one of them eventually. Its attacks were slow and methodical, not likely to tire either one of them. But the longer she played the waiting game, the more she risked being a split second too slow.

Having backed too close to the arena edge, something caught her by the shoulder. She instantly turned and lashed out, but the demon that had grabbed her backed off before her fist could connect with its face. She stared at it, debating whether to jump the barricade and make a point.

The distraction almost proved lethal. Instinct alone had her dropping to the floor, just in time to witness the pair of axes clank angrily against the top of the stone barricade. Trapped awkwardly beside the demon and the wall, she couldn't manoeuvre away fast enough to stop the demon's foot crashing down into her mid-section. She clenched her stomach, absorbing the brunt of the blow, and she instantly took her revenge, kicking a leg up while the demon raised an axe. She caught it on the chin, lifting its head back and winning her some space. Seeing her best opening yet, she flipped to her feet and delivered a roundhouse kick, her heel making direct contact with the side of its face and staggering it farther.

As she kept pressing, a desperate swing of an axe came much too close for comfort, almost removing one side of her face. The swing of the other was just as wild, but she had to drop back completely to avoid having her stomach sliced open, and that gave the demon enough of a reprieve to steady its feet.

----------

Towering over the arena, Faith watched on as the battle continued. Her ever increasing anxiety had left her a fidgeting mess, and as one foot tapped impatiently against the floor, her hands grasped helplessly at the barricade in front, desperately needing to do something to help. She trusted that Buffy would get the job done in hand to hand combat, but the way things stood she'd be lucky to get anywhere near her opponent without losing a limb. Instead Buffy was forced to duck and weave, doing little more than putting off the inevitable. So far the girl hadn't made a mistake – other than letting herself get distracted by the audience participation, and even then she'd recovered swiftly – but Faith knew the risks. One hesitation, one slip, and that would be it. Buffy would be gone forever.

She eyed the guard stood to one side before turning her attention to its leader on the other. “So much for an honourable battle,” Faith accused Shek. “This is nothing more than an execution and you know it.”

“This is a one on one duel and nothing more.”

“Right, except I can't help but notice how your guy's kitted out like Conan.”

The demon stared at her blankly.

“Giant axes,” she clarified.

“Your companion had time to prepare. She could have taken any weapon she possessed. Given her unfortunate situation, I even offered up a sword from my personal collection.”

Faith wasn't buying that for a second. “Sure. Next you'll be telling me it didn't go with her outfit.”

“No, but did she did make an intriguing counter offer. She offered to trade access to my weaponry for the chance at your freedom too, and I granted that request.”

Faith's snarky look dropped straight off her face. She could feel the colour instantly drain from it, leaving her cold and on the verge of gagging. “What?”

For the first time, Shek offered her its full attention, a whisper of a smile showing on its face. “If she wins, you both go free. A very admirable trade. One which must be respected.”

It wasn't obvious if it actually respected Buffy for the decision or if it was just mocking her. Faith glared at it, but she was definitely far more pissed off at the other Slayer. What the hell did Buffy think she was doing? Of course, Faith then realized, Buffy just has to play the hero; to hell with what anybody else thinks or feels. Buffy probably hadn't spent five seconds wondering what Faith was supposed to do without her.

Faith had thought they would both be fighting for their respective freedoms, and this new information was more than she could handle. She had to do something right away. She couldn't be the reason that Buffy died. That meant she needed to let go off her anger for the time being and focus on coming up with a solution. And then, if they both made it out of there, Buffy had better have one hell of an explanation lined up.

She stared absently into the arena, the movements below quickly becoming a blur. Her initial thought was to jump down there, but if she made the fight two versus one then it might not take long before it became two versus one hundred. “So let me get this straight, the only reason she can't use a weapon is because she doesn't have one?”

“That is correct, but once again I must stress that it was her own decision.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Faith added nothing else; that was all the clarification she needed. As soon as Shek returned its attention to the fight, she stepped back and threw an elbow straight into the nearest guard's stomach, doubling it over. Before the others could close in, she snatched the long, curved sword off the guard's exposed back and tossed it down into the arena. It landed some way behind the demon, and Buffy's eyes set on it immediately.

A clubbing blow to Faith's back sent her stumbling into the barricade. She recovered quickly, turning around only to have the tip of a spear nestle against her throat. The guard she'd disarmed stepped forward and unleashed a strong backhand across her face, and she had to clench teeth and fists both to keep from retaliating.

Shek watched her intently but said nothing. The clanging of metal from down below caught her ear. She hoped that if she was to be impaled for her actions then she'd already have been spraying blood across the floor. She risked a cautious step to the side, leaving the spear pointing at empty air. When she found herself still alive, she returned her attention to the battle.

----------

The demon possessed two blades to Buffy's one, but she evened the odds with a light-footed finesse that had it spinning in circles as it feverishly tried to track her. Any remaining worries soon faded. The onlooking crowd, the surrounding prison, the overwhelming odds of escape, it all slipped away as she fell into a pattern that was four years in the making. This was her element. This is what she did.

And she delivered that message with an unmistakable clarity. She leapt seamlessly from point to point, spinning, weaving, her feet constantly on the move. Whether high or low, each swing of an axe met only with the steel of her sword. Her wrist twisted and turned, and any blow that would have left her a corpse was effortlessly parried away. The sword was as much an extension of her hand as each and every finger, one that felt like it had been with her since birth.

She moved with both speed and grace, and while the demon had matched her so far, she knew that really, when it came down to it, she was doing nothing more than waiting. The fight was already over; she just had to write the ending.

When an opening presented itself, she brought the majestic display to an end by blocking the high swing of one axe, knocking away the low swing of the other, and then spinning around as she extended her arm.

She didn't need to look behind her to know the demon's severed head would be bobbing across the floor, and the murmuring from the audience fell away as her intense, challenging stare moved slowly across the front row. Breathing hard, adrenaline beating against her chest, her fingers still clenched inhumanly tight around the sword, Buffy looked up to find Faith watching her. She gave a nod and a smile in thanks, but only got a vacant look in return. Slightly unsettled by Faith's total lack of enthusiasm, Buffy furrowed her brow in question. She wondered if Faith knew something she didn't; if perhaps one or both of them were still in imminent danger. But she could glean nothing more from Faith's hardened face.

The rumbling of the gate being hoisted up snapped her from her thoughts, and she turned to the tunnel, half expecting a cluster of new opponents to emerge. Nobody else came though, and when nothing else happened, she dropped her bloodied sword to the floor and casually made her way out of the packed but silent arena, stretching to step over the headless corpse along the way.

Stood on the more preferable side of the walls that surrounded Fort Shek – as she had un-originally christened it – Buffy was bags-packed ready to leave without so much as a wave goodbye. Of course, for reasons she'd probably never know, a bad guy willing to keep their mouth shut was a rare find.

“A parting warning,” Shek said, stopping Buffy in her tracks. She let out a knocking sigh and rolled her eyes at the predictability of it all. “Our agreement was not an offer of immunity. Tomorrow, your welcome is over. Do not expect leniency if we meet again.”

She casually turned back, an amused smirk on her face. “Now don't take this the wrong way or anything, but I really plan to be home in time for dinner.”

That was a bad thought, she realized, now fully aware of the quiet rumbling in her stomach. Sadly her hosts had forgotten to bring out the banquet in honour of her victory, and it wouldn't be too long before she was willing to eat just about anything. And that might even stretch so far as the highly questionable substance found at the recently opened fast food joint back home – the Doublemeat Palace. Not that Buffy had sunk low enough to eat there herself, but Faith had taken a liking to it, and it did stay open at Slayer-friendly times,so she'd seen first-hand just how unappetizing a Doublemeat Medley could look. Still, right then, she might not have been so quick to pass one up.

Shek seemed far more amused by her comment than she'd expected. “If a portal could be opened from this place, do you not think we would have entered your dimension centuries ago?” it asked. “It cannot be done. It took the downfall of only three civilizations before The Powers That Be saw to that. But their attempts to contain us were short-sighted. Fourteen more still fell. Countless more will still fall. It seems there is always an invitation waiting to be extended, no matter the world.”

Buffy had been concerned by Giles's use of the word 'numerous' when he'd first told her about the cross-reality invasions – in fact, when it came to anything otherworldly, plurals were generally a big no-no in her book – but putting a figure to it made it seem all that much more bleak. “Why bother? I haven't seen you parading around any slaves, or – or any piles of stolen futuristic technology littering the ground. What could you possibly have to gain from any of this?”

“You think this is about mere theft? Not even close. I witnessed your battle. You fought exceptionally well, even if the rules were... tested.” He eyed Faith – who remained surprisingly straight-faced – before continuing. “You remind me of the warrior I once was, and for that reason I know you already understand that the need to fight flows through us all.”

Part of Buffy was screaming at herself to get out of dodge before she triggered a change of heart that landed both her and Faith in serious trouble, but she couldn't let that go unchallenged. “We are nothing alike,” she stressed. “I don't need to fight. I fight because I have to. I take no pleasure from killing; I do it to keep people safe. Nothing more.”

“As do I. The simple truth is I was born into a world wrapped in conflict. We fought for land. For food. Often simply because we thought we could win. But I also fought for something else: to change all of that. Nobody wished to listen to diplomacy, I assure you, but when I found a way between dimensions everything was different. A way to a common goal, to an ever-changing common enemy, was something that finally brought us together. Understand that, if left alone, we would undoubtedly turn on each other once more, but a world at war truly is a world united.”

The thought horrified her, and she found herself taking a threatening step forward. “And what about everyone that has died so you can keep yourselves in line? How is that any better than fighting with each other? At least you have a choice. No one you slaughtered got one. My people don't get one.”

Shek held his ground. The array of demons not far behind him also stayed in place, though several hands inched closer to their weapons. “They cannot be my concern.”

“Well they are mine.”

“If so, surely you would do whatever you must to keep them safe?”

“No. Not that. I'd never stoop so low.” That much she was sure of, and there was only certainty in her voice, but the conversation was still leaving her feeling uncomfortable. She put it down to being stuck talking to a sociopath.

“Perhaps you have yet to find a reason to, but you have it in you. Everyone willing to fight for what they believe in has it in them. They must, or ultimately they will fail.”

“Or here's a thought: did it never occur to you that maybe you're just completely out of your mind?”

Shek only smiled through thin, sapless lips. “I think it is time for you to go. The day is old, and while you have received a small taste of what night brings here, you might find there are worse things waiting out there.”

Buffy looked up at the sky, trying to get a reading on what sort of time they had. Their first night had seemed shorter than those back home, but she didn't know if the day would be too. She hoped for at least a couple of hours. If they really couldn't open the way home themselves then maybe they could at least find somewhere to lay low. “Come on, Faith.” She stared at Shek, letting her narrowed eyes show her disgust. “I've heard about all I can stand to.”

With that parting shot, she turned her back to Shek and the small portion of his army, and Faith silently trailed behind as they set off into their larger prison.

----------

It would be at least another hour before the residents of Sunnydale began to gravitate toward town, yet the lights inside The Magic Box had already been on for some time. Xander replaced the phone on its stand with no small amount of force. “Still nothing,” he informed a glum-looking Willow as he returned to sink down beside her at the table. “They have to be somewhere. People don't just disappear. I mean they do, especially around here, but both Slayers in the same night? Colour me paranoid, but I know who I'd point all my fingers at.”

Willow – who had risen at six that morning to check on Buffy and then subsequently raised the alarm when she couldn't get hold of either her or Faith – nodded her head as she continued to leaf through the pages of a musty but surprisingly well-preserved book. At first she'd assumed it was just new, but she was beginning to understand the real reason it was in such good shape. Vague and patchy, it seemed to offer little in the way of what their demonic invaders were capable of. Instead hyperbole, and reports that read like urban legends, were the order of the day. “It does seem likely, but Giles doesn't want to rule out it having something to do with those festive fear demons yet either. There could be more of them, and what if Buffy and Faith both had a fear of being invisible?” She frowned, watching as Xander absently threw a fist into the palm of his other hand time and time again. “OK, probably not that likely. But still, we really shouldn't jump to any conclusions. We don't want to go spinning off in the wrong direction. Not when... not if they need us.”

Xander looked over at her. “What if she's really gone? What if we can't get her back?”

“Them back,” Willow corrected. “What if we can't get them back.”

“Right, them. I know... I just mean...” His voice trailed off, and he cast his eyes down to the table.

Willow nodded. “I know. And don't get me wrong, I don't think I'll be inviting Faith over for a sleepover any time soon, but she's been there for Buffy. The two of them are... close.”

“I noticed. They have seemed pretty cosy lately. What's up with that?”

Willow returned her eyes to the book, staying quiet for a few seconds under Xander's questioning look. “I don't know. It makes sense though. After all, they do have to work together. Might as well try and get along, right?”

“I guess. It's just surprising is all. I mean Faith did try to kill her... and her undead lover... and me.”

“She also saved Buffy's life, remember? Besides, that was all a long time ago, and let's face it, who around here hasn't gone to the dark side?” She gave Xander a knowing smirk.

“Hey! That wasn't dark side. I like to think of it more as... Sunnydale's unique take on Ace Ventura.”

Willow let out a small laugh. “How would you even know? You don't remember any of it.”

“Right, good point. I really, really don't.” Xander shuffled in his chair and cleared his throat. “So, anything useful in that book?”

As Willow shook her head, the increasingly familiar jingling of the shop bell grabbed their attention. The drab expressions of Giles and Oz stepped inside to greet them, the two armed with a battleaxe and crossbow respectively.

Xander was up in an instant. “Find anything?” he asked eagerly. Silently, Giles pulled out a stake from his jacket pocket and held it up. What little colour there was left in Xander's face drained away. “Oh God, that can't be good.”

“No, definitely not,” Giles agreed. He shrugged off his coat, folded it roughly in half over his arm, and tossed it on top of the shop counter as he crossed the room to the others. “There was no blood, but between the stake and an upturned tombstone I'd say at least one of them was fighting there at some point last night.”

Willow took the stake, turning it around in her hand. “But that means they're not... well, you know. No blood means they're probably OK, right? Maybe they just ran? And now they're somewhere safe, regrouping?” She looked even more miserable than before, her questions tinged with a hopefulness she clearly didn't feel.

Oz placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “Maybe. No reason to panic.”

“No. No reason to panic,” Willow agreed with little belief. “Right?” She looked at Giles for confirmation.

He wasn't listening. “What have we missed?” he asked quietly. His hand was up at his mouth, his lips pressing against the side of one of his curled in fingers. All eyes were on him as he slowly paced back and forth. “There's something about all--”

This time a loud bang preceded the sound of the shop bell, and when they all looked over they saw a large shape fly through the air, hit the ground with a thud, and roll down the steps before coming to a stop only a few feet away.

Giles looked over the motionless man before growling, “Ethan.” Before he'd taken a single step toward the body, a pair of impeccably dressed demons flanked Ethan. They took one look at Giles and charged forward.

----------

“How twisted is that?” Buffy asked, once her and Faith were far enough away from the demons that she wasn't readying herself to dive out the way of an incoming spear. The question had been very much rhetorical, but when she didn't get an answer she still looked to her side expectantly, finding that Faith still looked sombre about something. “Hey, are you OK? They didn't hurt you, did they?” Concerned, she stopped and reached out to touch Faith's arm, but Faith quickly carried on forward, taking several steps before turning back to her. “Faith?” Buffy asked, more nervously. “Say something.”

Faith gave a quick nod of her head, and her lungs filled out with air. “OK. How about we start with you telling me what the hell you think you were doing back there?” she growled.

The bolt of anger thrown her way caught Buffy completely off guard. Her mouth dropped open, and she'd retreated a step back before she knew it. “What? I don't...” Her voice trailed off as she racked her brain for answers. She came up with nothing; she didn't have a clue what Faith could be so upset about.

“That creepy-ass demon told me about the deal you made. You remember, the one where you decided I couldn't handle myself so you threw yourself into the fray with one hand tied behind your back?”

See, demons really did need to learn to keep their mouths shut, Buffy decided. “That's not what happened. It wasn't like that at all.”

“Then how about you explain it to me. What was it like, exactly?”

“Look, Faith, I really don't know what you're getting so hung up on. I was only trying to get us both out of there in one piece.” She was trying to stay pragmatic, but she couldn't keep her voice from raising defensively. This whole place had gradually left her on edge; the last thing she needed was Faith giving her grief over nothing.

“By passing up an actual chance of winning?”

“I had a plan,” Buffy shot back. And she did, kind of: she'd fight, she'd hopefully win, and then they'd leave. Sure, it wasn't elaborate on the level that might impress, say, Steve McQueen, but it was still a plan.

“Yeah? If getting cut up into tiny pieces was the start of it, you've gotta let me in on the end.”

It was difficult to decide whether there was more accusation or sarcasm in Faith's tone; Buffy was prepared to equal it on both accounts though. “Oh, sure, but charging head-first into a pack of demons was really well thought out. What, exactly, was the plan there, huh Faith? Were you hoping a feral scream and some angry fist shaking would have them running for the hills?”

“Gee, well I'm real sorry I didn't get out of dodge and leave you for dead.”

“And how is that any different from what I was trying to do?” Buffy asked, dumbfounded that Faith couldn't see it.

“Because I couldn't live with myself if I let you die.”

In a calmer state, Buffy might have been more sympathetic to that, but Faith had gotten her rattled and suddenly the most spiteful interpretation seemed the most likely. “But what, I'd just get over it, is that what you're saying? That I'd just shrug it off and move on? Maybe get a nice pen pal somewhere exotic when they called in your replacement?”

They glared at each other, the trio of questions hanging heavily between them. Buffy's heart was beating away furiously, making its discomfort known. Neither one of them seemed like they were about to be the first to back down, but then, without even needing to open her mouth, Faith said it all with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

The action felt like a sucker punch deep into Buffy's gut, expelling her spirit straight out her gaping mouth and sending tears shooting up toward her eyes. She shook her head in total disbelief then quickly turned away and started walking, refusing to let Faith see the evidence of how deep she'd been cut.

“Where the hell are you going?” Faith called from behind.

Buffy couldn't believe that Faith still sounded like the one with the right to be angry, and she sure as hell wasn't about to stop to answer. She had already been tired and hungry; she'd wanted nothing more than for them both to go home. Now that the truth had come out, she was livid, and she felt sick to her stomach to boot. The person she'd thought would be the one thing that kept her going through whatever happened next had let the truth slip out. That's why, when Faith reached out and grabbed her by the arm, she snapped.

She let herself be pulled around before lashing out without warning. She didn't hold back, striking Faith hard with the back of her rigidly tight fist. Completely unprepared, Faith went straight down to the ground. “How dare you!” Buffy had wanted to scream, but the words that reverberated through her ears were weak and sorrowful. That didn't stop her from carrying on though, and nor did the first pair of tears that leaked out onto her face. “I have done everything I possibly could to make you feel like a part of my life,” she stressed. “I invited you into my home. Every night I've been out there with you, standing right there by your side. I have shared things with you that I have never told anyone else.” Her blurry eyes were making it difficult to focus on Faith's face. “But I guess none of that means anything. Apparently I'm just some cold-hearted bitch who doesn't give a crap about you. Right, Faith?”

Faith was still splayed out on the floor, having made no attempt at getting back to her feet. “I didn't say that.” Her voice somehow sounded more fragile than Buffy's.

“You didn't have to.” Buffy didn't need to read between the lines to grasp what Faith was thinking; that much had been made perfectly clear. She swiped away the tears running down one cheek with the back of her hand, but reinforcements were quick to roll in. “God, I can't believe I let myself start to think...”

Through her light-headedness she suddenly realized something, and she gave a brittle, humourless laugh. She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been, or how easily she'd let faith take her in; it was so obvious what was going on. “Get some and get gone, right?”

Faith looked puzzled. Or at least she pretended to, Buffy thought.

“What?” Faith asked.

“Were you going to teach me a lesson, is that it? Is this how you were going to pay me back for whatever awful thing it is I've done to you?”

“What?” Faith repeated. Suddenly she was scrambling to her feet and violently shaking her head. “Buffy, no, that's not – you've got it all wrong.”

Faith reached out, but Buffy quickly dodged back. “Touch me and I swear I will break your arm,” Buffy warned through gritted teeth.

Faith flinched, shrinking back and withdrawing her arm. “B, I swear, I didn't mean--”

“Don't. Just save it.”

“Buffy, please--”

“No!” Buffy interrupted fiercely. Each breath she took felt heavier, harder, than the one before it, but she forced her angry thoughts into words. “You know what? I'd rather be stuck in a hell dimension with Cordelia because at least she always had enough spine to be honest with me.” It was helping. Not a lot, but at least enough to focus. “I know I'm not perfect, but God, I have tried so hard to make things right with you. And if none of that was enough then...” Then there really was nothing left to say. “I'm getting out of here, and if you want to follow me, that's fine, but if you say one more word then we're going to have a serious problem.”

Faith looked like she'd been stunned into silence. Her shoulders hunched inward, her eyes looking only at Buffy's feet. Convinced that would be the end of it, Buffy turned and started walking.

“Fine,” she heard seconds later. “You want honest, here's honest.”

Faith slipped in front of Buffy, blocking her way, and Buffy's warning glare would have been enough to scare any vampire back into the safety of its grave. “You really want to do this?” she asked Faith, already positioning her legs ready for a fight. “Because if you think for one moment that--”

“I love you.”

Buffy swallowed her words through no choice of her own. Finding herself stranded within a sea of more questions, she floundered as she tried to pick out a single one to ask. Faith's intense, unblinking stare didn't make it any easier, but Buffy managed to pull herself back together just enough to utter a single, weak, “No.” She shook her head as she tried to step around Faith, but once again the girl darted into her path.

“I love you so much,” Faith repeated, both hands grasping at the centre of her chest. “Trust me, I've tried so hard not to.”

“I'm not listening to this.” Buffy stuck out an elbow as she barged her way past.

Faith took hold of that same elbow to spin her straight back around. She grabbed at Buffy's arms, but Buffy shook herself free before shoving Faith away. “I said don't touch me.”

Faith strode straight back up to her, twin sparks of determination lighting up her usually dark eyes. “Maybe it was the moment I first met you in that alleyway. Or maybe it was when you showed up at my apartment, barely knowing me for a day, already being majorly pissed at me, and for whatever reason still trying to help me out. Hell, I don't even know anymore; it feels like forever's already come and gone. But it's always been that way.”

Part of Buffy desperately wanted to believe what Faith was saying, but how could she after what had just happened? Nothing made sense anymore. She needed time to think, to process everything, and that meant she had to drag herself away before she got sucked in.

Faith followed at her heels, not ready to let it go. “Believe me or don't, it won't change how I feel. Nothing will. You're the only thing in my life that matters.”

Buffy was losing her battle to fight back more tears, but she grit her teeth, picked up her pace, and tried to keep her walls held up. “Right, but this is the first time you thought to mention it? Gee, that's convenient.”

That seemed to give Faith pause, but it didn't last for very long. “Do you remember back in high school when you skipped out on your chem test to go to that vamp nest with me?”

Buffy came to an abrupt standstill despite herself. Every ounce of logic screamed at her to keep going, but she needed to know what came next. Just in case. She sucked in her bottom lip and looked to the skies for some much-needed support. Her arms tightly clung to her body. Of course she remembered. The events of that night had foreshadowed just how bad things were about to get, but she hadn't forgotten how right the day that lead up to them had felt. Still felt.

“Do you remember?” Faith asked again. Softer that time, like she'd almost burnt through the last of her sudden surge of energy.

Buffy knew Faith was right behind her; the words had sounded so close that it felt like Faith was speaking to her telepathically. “I remember.” She hadn't intended to speak in a whisper, but that's the way it came out.

“After we spent all day together, after the way we took out those vamps, the way you danced with me at The Bronze, I started to let myself believe that maybe... maybe I actually had a shot. But before I could... everything started falling apart.” Layer by layer, the strength in Faith's voice was peeling away, and for Buffy that was the final straw. She closed her eyes, triggering the return of her tears with a renewed vigour. “And – and then it was too late. After... I didn't think you'd ever want to be around me again.”

It took all of Buffy's willpower to force herself to look at Faith. In the past twenty four hours she'd been almost devoured by a hell beast, infected, abducted by an army of demons, and forced to fight to the death, but now, for the first time, she felt terrified.

She didn't know what to expect, and when her eyes met Faith's her eyebrows pinched together at how disheartened she looked. The girl's shaking hands were lost in the air, indecision leaving them stuck between reaching out and pulling away. Faith's words had only added to Buffy's immense confusion, but maybe this was a subject she had a better chance at dealing with; she'd had time to come to terms with what had happened with Allan Finch. “I told you it would be OK,” Buffy said softly.

Faith weakly shook her head. “I saw the way you looked at me. You hated me for it. And I was so scared. I felt so lost. I didn't know what was going to happen.” Faith was in tears as well, her dark eye-liner being dragged down her face.

Buffy had seen and heard enough. This wasn't a ruse. It couldn't be. Faith had never been that good an actress. And then, staring at the scared, fragile face pleading before her, Buffy could clearly see everything she needed to know. It quelled her lingering doubts quicker than any assurances ever could. “No, Faith, I never hated you. Not for that or for anything else,” she promised, and that too was the truth. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Faith, trying to ease her in.

Faith fell against her, her hands knotting themselves up within the back of Buffy's top. “I'm sorry, Buffy,” she continued through her tears. “For everything that happened. Everything I did. I am. You tried to help me, and I just... I just...”

“Shhh,” Buffy cooed into Faith's ear, letting one hand wander up to stroke through her hair. “I forgive you, Faith. It's OK. It's all OK.”

Buffy could feel Faith slipping to her knees, and she dropped with her, not ready to let go. Faith buried her face into Buffy's shoulder as she continued to quietly sob, and Buffy pressed her lips to the top of Faith's head, doing what she could to try to soothe the trembling girl.

Buffy had been trying to find something of interest over each of Faith's slumped shoulders, but her eyes kept finding their way back to the mass in between them. Faith sat barely out of arm's reach and seemed fully absorbed in the grass beneath them; like clockwork she'd rhythmically pluck up a single blade, watch intently as her finger and thumb worked to scrunch it into a small ball, and then let it fall right back down to join the quickly-growing mass grave of greenery.

Neither of their activities could be honestly described as productive, but Buffy had needed the time out to calm herself down, and she suspected it was doing Faith some good as well. They couldn't stay sat around forever though, and she was prepping her bravery ready to speak up when Faith beat her to the punch. “You think it's weird they have grass and trees and stuff here?” she asked, staring at the latest little, green victim in her hand.

Buffy frowned. She was a little thrown by the question; it had been about the furthest thing from her thoughts she could imagine. “I don't know... maybe.”

“Guess I figured it'd be all pits of hell-fire and dancing, red demons or something.”

“Well don't give up hope yet. If there are places like that out there I'm sure we'll be unlucky enough to find them,” Buffy joked, unsure of what she was really supposed to say.

“Yeah.” Faith had one knee tucked in close to her chest, and she let out a low sigh as her head dipped and her arms moved to wrap around it. There was a distinct weariness to Faith's voice and Buffy could relate.

The half-hearted agreement put an end to the short conversation and, once again left without a distraction, Buffy tried to assess the compact figure opposite her. Faith's downcast eyes were still bloodshot which, combined with the smudged remains of her make-up, suggested that even the smallest of prods could have her falling apart all over again. Buffy doubted she was looking all that glamorous herself, but the sight of a dispirited Faith had always been enough to dim her own mood. When things were going well it felt so natural for her to become caught up within Faith's energetic persona, but when the lights dimmed, the hopelessness that resonated from her gloomy figure was equally ensnaring. It didn't help that she put a lot of the blame on herself for having let her worries push her to some rushed conclusions about Faith's intentions

She found herself reaching out to brush back the cluster of hair that had fallen loose over Faith's face but quickly stopped herself, instead forcing both hands into her lap. She interlinked her fingers to keep them held in place, and when she thought about what she was doing she sighed so softly that it probably went unheard. “We can't keep doing this, you know.”

Faith sluggishly lifted her head, meeting Buffy's eyes for the first time. “Doing what?”

“It just... it feels like every time something like this comes up we end up on opposite sides.” Faith just looked at her in silence. Already wary of sparking another fight, Buffy made sure to keep her voice gentle. “I know you can handle yourself, I do. And I trust you, Faith. I'd trust you with my life in an instant, no questions asked. You know that, right?”

Faith's brow furrowed, and she seemed to mull it over before replying. “Yeah, I guess.”

A little more enthusiasm would have done wonders for Buffy's wavering confidence, but it wasn't a flat-out 'no' so she carried on. “Good. And I'm sorry I made that decision back there without you. What I'm not sorry for – what I will never be sorry for – is looking out for you. But you need to understand – all that means is... is that I can't imagine my life without you in it. And I don't want to. Besides, you'd have done the same for me if the roles were reversed, wouldn't you?” She wasn't asking for her own clarity, only to try and help Faith understand where she was coming from.

Faith's eyes flickered to the ground and back before she begrudgingly nodded her head.

“Then can we please just agree to look out for each other? We're in this together – all of it – whatever comes – and I really don't want to fight with you, Faith. Not about Slaying. Not about anything.”

Once Buffy received another nod, she smiled in relief and stuck out her hand. “Slayer's honour?”

Faith stared down at her hand for a few seconds before looking back up. “You know that's not really a thing, right?” she asked, throwing Buffy a sceptical look.

“Hey, I don't know about you, but I don't know any other Slayers. So if we say its a thing, its officially a thing. I declare the motion passed by acclamation.”

“By acclam-what now?” Faith asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“I don't know. I heard it on some law show once. They were all giddy and stuff though so I think it means they won.” Buffy forced her brow to furrow. “Or maybe they were just drunk,” she added in mock thought.

That got a small, hollow chuckle from Faith who, after another short delay, reached out and shook her hand.

“Punishable by a decade of research duty, just so you know,” Buffy added.

“I'm not so sure I should be agreeing to that.”

“You're shaking on it right now.”

Faith laughed again, and if Buffy hadn't have been paying an awful lot of attention then it might not have sounded at lest partially forced. “That's pretty underhanded, B.”

“Many years of practice.”

As Faith's laugh faded away so did the remnants of what could generously be described as a smile, and then her forehead was wrinkled in concentration.

Buffy started to withdraw her hand, but Faith reacted fast to gently catch hold of the ends of her fingers. She watched Faith anxiously for a few moments, fighting the urge to look down at the thumb that began to lightly stroke across the back of her hand. Even if the apprehension rife on Faith's face hadn't already given it away, Buffy would still have had a fighting chance at predicting the topic on the tip of Faith's tongue.

It was one she'd been secretly hoping to tiptoe around, but that didn't mean Faith's earlier outburst wasn't still rattling around inside her head; on the contrary, it was, and it was been inconsiderately persistent about it. She couldn't shake it free, but she had no clue what to think or do about it yet either. It's not that she didn't care about Faith, but she wasn't sure if she was in love with her. How could she be? They'd shared two kisses – and in pretty exceptional circumstances at that – been on a grand total of zero dates, and only a few painfully long days ago she hadn't given consideration to them being anything more than friends. It did seem like they'd spent more time together than apart in recent months, and whatever it was between them was suddenly a lot harder for her to overlook, but that didn't add up to the same thing, Buffy reasoned. Throw in the fact that the inter-dimensional demon population wasn't exactly affording her an ample helping of focus time and the end result was that everything was happening too fast.

“I meant what I said before,” Faith said quietly, the uneasiness in her voice not difficult to pick out. “I love you, Buffy.”

Buffy closed her eyes and desperately wished she were some place else; even discussing the finer points of demon mating rituals with Giles would have been a welcome alternative. She knew that doing anything other than returning the sentiment was going to sting Faith, but she couldn't to lie to her either. Not about that.

The darkness couldn't keep her hidden forever, and she wasn't surprised to find them both sat in exactly the same place when she dared leave its safety. In the end a faint, “I know,” was all she could come up with. Oh well done, Buffy, she sarcastically chastised herself; that didn't sound completely uncaring at all. She hoped the small smile she offered could somehow make up for it.

Faith continued watching her as if waiting for something more, and Buffy guiltily averted her eyes to the ground and bit anxiously at her lip. When she still remained silent, Faith let go and got to her feet. “We should probably get gone. Put some distance between us and them before they send out the hunting parties.”

An easy out had just been presented to Buffy on a silver platter – complete with gold trim and matching cutlery – and for several long seconds she considered grabbing it with both hands and hugging it tight. Faith's flat, all-business tone made her feel even worse about herself though, and she knew she'd regret it later if she left things like that. As she followed to her feet she forced herself to speak out over her trepidation. “Look, Faith, it's just... this is all really new to me.” Her lost hands motioned helplessly in front of her waist. “I'm still kinda trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Yeah, sure. Don't sweat it,” Faith replied along with a dismissive wave of a hand before she stuffed them both in the back pockets of her jeans.

She started to turn away, but Buffy reached out to stop her. “Maybe when we get out of here we could... umm, do something? I mean together. Just the two of us?“ Her throat was already closing, shrivelling up due to every drop of moisture having somehow been sucked away without her knowing it, but that didn't keep the sincere and optimistic smile from her face.

Faith watched her cautiously as if trying to pry through her thoughts for some hidden meaning. “You mean like a date?”

The tips of Buffy's fingers were tingling as she gave a single nod. “Like a date.”

More time passed – only a handful of seconds, but still far, far too many of them – and Buffy was starting to wonder if her efforts were too little, too-late by the time Faith finally nodded back. “That'd be nice.”

The wave of relief that rushed over Buffy was completely unexpected, but at the same time it was enough to release her held breath. She nodded one more time, a final confirmation to herself.

----------

Giles found himself being driven back by a stout demon dressed in a grey suit – tie, boots and all. He continuously beat at its head with alternating fists, hoping to deter it to no avail. Despite trying to keep his feet planted firmly in place, he was quickly giving up ground, and the next thing he knew the edge of a shelf was pressing painfully into his back.

Looking for anything in reach, Xander laid his eyes on a pale-blue, glass sphere. He grabbed it from its stand without thought and lifted it up high over his head as he stepped up behind the demon.

“Ooh, no, wait!” Willow called out, and Xander looked over his shoulder questioningly, his hand still raised. “That's a fourteenth century Malian conjuring orb. Err...” She glanced around before picking up a sturdy-looking statue of a gleeful, barely-clothed fairy. “Here, use this instead. It's only priced at twenty bucks, and that's after Giles's profit margin.” She looked disapprovingly at Giles, who was far too occupied to notice. “Which, by the way, extortionate much? I've seen these online for like $4.95.”

The words Giles was having trouble getting out – due in no small part to the sizeable pair of demonic hands encircling his throat – were unintelligible, but he still managed to make it obvious he disagreed.

Xander took a moment to think about it, shrugged, and then swapped the orb for the statue. While Willow cradled the orb carefully in both hands, Xander continued where he left off. He raised the statue high and promptly brought it down hard across the back of the demon's head.

The demon stayed standing exactly where it was, which was more than could be said for the statue. It snapped in two with ease, breaking cleanly at the unhealthily thin waist, the upper half falling uselessly to the ground. Xander turned back to Willow and waved the fairy legs questioningly.

“Aha, see! I told you it wasn't worth twenty,” Willow said defensively as she pointed an accusatory finger Giles's way.

Giles got a reprieve when the demon turned its attention toward Xander and Willow. Shoulder first, it barged straight into the back of Xander, sending his eyebrows high and his legs stumbling forward. Off balance and flailing wildly, he had no hope of stopping himself, and he collided with Willow, taking them both to the floor. The orb fell from her hand, instantly smashing into thousands of tiny pieces when it hit the floor, and the resulting sound was loud enough to mask the end of her high-pitched squeal.

The demon hovered over her, its menacing grin showing off two rows of short, sharp, perfectly white teeth, but as it reached down Giles shot forward, wrapping his arms around the demon from behind and tackling it to the floor. Unlike Xander, Willow barely rolled to the side in time to avoid ending up at the bottom of the pile.

-----------

“Come on, let's see if we can't find another of those beasts that attacked you.” The instant and incredulous look Faith received for her suggestion brought a smirk to her face and only spurred her on more. “What, you already got plans? Because last I checked you only had the one date lined up.”

Her insides were whirring around in excitement, and while she didn't want Buffy to know how pathetically happy the offer of a single, simple date had made her, she couldn't concentrate enough to keep her high spirits from shining through in her voice. She didn't even have a guarantee that Buffy would go through with it, and that slight nagging likely wouldn't fade until they were skipping through fields, hand in hand. Not that she was a big fan of skipping, or had ever even tried, but if it came to it then, for Buffy, she'd swallow her pride – so long as it was in private; after all, she did have some street cred to retain, even if it was only with the undead.

Buffy's voice broke through her skittish, runaway thoughts, and she tried to shake herself back to reality. “Err, sorry,” she muttered sheepishly when she noticed Buffy watching her with an amused expression. “Didn't catch that.”

Buffy gave an over the top roll of her eyes before repeating herself. “Yeah, I noticed. I said that I wouldn't mind evening the score, but I'm really not sure this is the time for revenge. In case you've forgotten, we still have slightly bigger problems.”

Right, Faith thought to herself, remembering that she did actually have a plan before she'd managed to get caught up in her own reflections. “Ain't looking for revenge.”

“Then what are we looking for, dare I ask?”

Buffy had told Faith how the demons had gotten her leg going from looking like it might drop right off to good-as-new in a matter of minutes, and that had gotten Faith thinking. The conclusion she'd come to might not be guaranteed, but she figured it was worth a shot. “You think these demons just happened to have some cure sitting around so they could mop up any unlucky humans passing by?”

She had to hold back a grin when Buffy furrowed her brow just a little and pursed her lips; the girl looked way too cute when she was deep in thought.

“I hadn't really thought about it... but I guess so,” Buffy replied cautiously, clearly still thinking it over.

“And remember the demon chick that sent us here? It looked like she was covered in the same black veins that were on your leg.”

“OK, but she didn't seem all that bothered by it.”

“No, but she wasn't looking too healthy either, and now I'm wondering if a stronger dose might finish her off.”

“And if they had a cure, why didn't she use it? And if she--”

“Hey! Chill, Miss Marple,” Faith interrupted. “I'm just saying it's maybe worth a shot. What's the worst that can happen?”

“Hmm. How about we get mauled to death and our torn up bodies rot away without ever being found?” Buffy deadpanned.

It was Faith's turn to roll her eyes. “Jeez, has no-one ever told you you're a real killjoy when you're sent to a hell dimension?”

Buffy smiled sweetly. “No-one would dare.” Faith barely had time to open her mouth before Buffy added, “And that wasn't an invitation.”

Faith snorted in amusement, knowing full well that Buffy's prediction was spot on. “So what do you say? You want to go hunt us down some were-freaks or what?”

“Well technically I didn't see a full moon last night, so they're probably not--”

“B?” Faith cut in, a hint of exasperation making itself known.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Buffy harrumphed and gave Faith a small, half-hearted shove.

Faith humoured her, faking a stumble to her side, and then she took off running without warning, a smile etched on her face that she thought might never fade away. It didn't take long before Buffy started after her, and once she'd caught up, Faith veered off the forest pathway, bounding straight into the thick brush.

----------

Ethan peeked open one eye and quickly swept the room to make sure nobody was watching him. They weren't. Giles was red-faced and busy wrestling a demon on the ground as Willow pulled at its ears, and Xander and Oz were repeatedly sandwiching another demon's head between a pair of books.

He noted the absence of Mr. Grolloch, the demon he desperately didn't want to pay back, which was a pity; he did genuinely appreciate it when other people took care of his problems.

Flinging himself through the air had led to a less than pleasant landing, and it had taken all of his resolve not to instantly begin rubbing at the thumping in his elbow. Sometimes a little pain went a long way though, and it had seemed like his best chance of looking like a victim of poor timing. If things were going to go his way then that's exactly what he needed.

As he watched the fight, Ethan idly wondered how this motley group had managed to thwart all of his previous plans. He was starting to get bored from simply seeing the sorry display, but with the numbers game against them it didn't take too much longer until the two henchman had been dispersed with. The moment the second one hit the floor, presumably dead, Ethan lay his head back on the floor and closed his eyes.

Not long after, he felt a firm boot land in his side. He remained still, waiting for the follow-up poke – which he knew would come – before he forced out a low groan and began his carefully drawn out movements. He didn't get time to make many as within seconds he was hauled to his feet by two fists firmly wrapped around the collar of his shirt.

Giles' eyes, naked from the glasses that usually sat on his face, were glowering, but Ethan had seen the man look more angry than that in the past; and more often than not that anger had been aimed squarely his way. “Long time, no see, Ripper,” Ethan began conversationally. “How've you been, old fella?”

Ethan's eyes widened as his feet left the ground, but he didn't remain in the air for long. Back first, he landed on a nearby table with a grunt, and Giles' hands stayed in place, pinning Ethan's neck down. “Ethan Rayne,” Giles said with a slight drawl. “I should have known. There's been far too much going on recently for it to all be a coincidence, and I get the feeling you know exactly what I'm talking about.”

“Not the foggiest,” Ethan replied with a forced straight face. “And I'm starting to think maybe you don't want my help after all.”

The flicker of uncertainty in Giles' eyes fed Ethan a little more confidence. Some people really never learn, he thought.

“Help with what?” Giles asked. The rest of the group were quietly gathered behind him.

Ethan motioned at his neck. “Perhaps first you could loosen up a little, Rupert. You're not setting a very good example for the children.”

Giles gave Ethan a warning glare but then removed his hands and took a single step back. Ethan stood up and made a show of rubbing at his neck. “Now how about a drink? For old time's sake.”

“Why are you here, Ethan?” Giles asked flatly.

“Ahh, so straight to business then? Fair enough.” He took a couple of steps away, preferring to have time to react in case he said something Giles didn't appreciate. “I've heard rumours starting to spread in the dark world. Rumours that the Slayer might be what you'd call M.I.A. And being the good and loyal friend you know I am, I thought it only fair to come and warn you – in case you didn't already know. Of course, twenty minutes in good old Sunnydale and I'm already being accosted by your friends here.” He gave a sideways nod at the nearest of the two corpses. “You really ought to be more careful who you associate with.”

“Oh believe me, I learnt that lesson that a long time ago.” Giles gave him a pointed look. “But let's pretend for a moment that what you say is true. Given that I saw Buffy only yesterday, it sure does seem awfully quick for such news to spread. So much so that one could perhaps be forgiven for thinking that knowing about it might require inside information.”

The sceptical look directed Ethan's way wasn't enough to unnerve him; he knew Giles well enough to know he already had him reeled halfway in. “Think about it, Rupert: if I were involved then would I really show up here to help you get her back?” He turned and started heading for the door. “Of course, if you'd rather find her yourself then that's your call. I'm sure with your resources you'll get to her before they do.”

“They?”

The grin that instantly appeared on Ethan's face was huge, but he forced it away before turning back to the group. “Why, the demons that inhabit the world she's been sent to, of course.”

“Wait, what?” Willow said, her eyes widening. “Are you saying that Buffy's been sent... away?”

“That's what I heard.”

“And what have you heard about Faith?” Giles asked, his interest well and truly piqued.

Ethan forced a questioning frown to his face. “I never took you for a religious man, Rupert.”

“I think you know what I mean.”

“Sorry, mate, I really don't.”

Giles took two threatening steps forward, leaned in close, and lowered his voice. “Let me be perfectly clear here, Ethan. If this is some game of yours then I will personally see to it that you don't appreciate the results.”

Ethan leaned back and held up both hands, open palms outward. “No games. Cross my heart. Honestly, Rupert. I know you'd be out of sorts without your little, blonde super-soldier, and I couldn't bare to see you sulk for the next decade. You're even less fun than usual when you're like that.”

The lengthy, probing stare from Giles would have dug up any hidden plans of deceit from most people, but a lifetime's worth of practice had left Ethan well-equipped to handle it; he met the look with confident, unblinking eyes and a small, honest smile that depicted only the purest definition of innocence.

It did the job perfectly, and Ethan was afforded a quick – and ultimately unnecessary – explanation of who Faith was and why the Scooby gang had reason to believe she too might be stuck in another dimension. Ethan waited patiently throughout, nodding in feigned interest and even throwing in the odd dry comment for good measure.

“I have a spell that can bring them both back,” he said when Giles had finished. “We'll need some ingredients, but as luck would have it, you appear to be the proprietor of a magic shop. How's that for convenient?” He looked around the room with interest before returning his focus to Giles. “Oh, and I'll need something of Buffy's. A personal artefact. Just to ensure the portal opens nearby.”

“Oh, err, I have these,” Willow piped up. She began fiddling at her ears before producing a pair of small, dangling teardrop earrings. “Buffy let me borrow them for graduation.” Despite nobody saying anything of it, she suddenly looked horrified and hurriedly added, “I meant to return them. I just sort of... forgot.”

“They'll do just fine.”

She held them out for the taking, but Giles blocked Ethan's way as he tried to grabbed them. “I do have one more question before we proceed. I just can't seem to shake the fact that your showing up with all the answers seems terribly convenient. Who – or indeed what – is your source, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Sorry, Ripper, but we all have secrets we'd like to hold onto. I'm sure a man such as yourself can appreciate that.” The insinuation which had crept into Ethan's tone, along with the slim, lopsided smirk on his face, left Giles with a furrowed brow and Ethan with the opportunity to take the earrings. He turned his attention to the rest of the group and spoke with a an overabundance of smug enthusiasm. “Right then. First up: where do we keep the Mugwort?”

“Faith... I need you... to do me... a huge favour.” Buffy's words came out in short, hurried bursts amidst her heavy breaths. Each one was a waste of energy she should have been clawing onto, but sometimes there were things that simply had to be said.

“Yeah?” Faith asked, panting just as noisily. “And what's that?”

“The next time...” Buffy roughly wiped at her brow, swiping away the layer of sweat that was building up, before shooting a quick glance over her shoulder. Her feet pelted into the floor, her legs moving with such a speed that one misstep would end with her flat on her face. “I agree... to an idea of yours... I want you... to slap me.”

Faith's wide grin suggested she was having the time of her life, though Buffy could tell from the perspiration on her face that she was struggling just as much. “Come on, B... just admit it... You wouldn't have... half as much fun... without me.”

“Fun? ...Fun?” Buffy risked taking her focus off the constant stream of quickly approaching scenery ahead of her to stare at Faith with wide, disbelieving eyes. “This isn't fun! This is running... for our lives!”

“Key thing... we still have them... this doesn't.” Faith held up a severed head as proof – its two giant fangs still protruding from its lifeless, gaping mouth – as if that somehow made it all worth it.

The blood had, for the most part, stopped trickling from the opening that once connected the head to its owner's neck, but Buffy still wasn't impressed. She wrinkled her nose in disdain and instantly looked away from the grisly sight. She'd seen plenty of blood and gore on a far too regular basis over the past four years, but running around with something's scalp edged a little too close to uncouth for her liking. It would hopefully prove worthwhile though, so she was glad Faith didn't appear to share her reservations.

“It's more... the others... that concern me.” Buffy took another glance back, spotting the others in question on the horizon.

Once they'd tracked down their prey, taking it out had been straight forward, if a little messy. They had worked the two on one advantage, Buffy's distraction ultimately giving Faith a clear opening to deliver a blow to the back of its head with a large rock. As she'd followed up several more times to finish it off, its roars of anguish had caught the attention of its friends.

Buffy had turned away – before she'd lost her desire to eat for the next year – as Faith had worked to remove its head with nothing more than the semi-sharp side of that same rock. The uncomfortable gurgling in her stomach has been quickly forgotten when a chorus of howls rang out through the forest from the distance. They hadn't stuck around, even Faith needing no convincing before they'd high-tailed it out of there without another word.

Now half a dozen of the crazed, hairy beasts were behind them. Buffy didn't know whether their loud cries were born from the need for revenge, hunger or simply amusement. She could make out each one's four powerful limbs pushing them along, their giant bounds propelling them forward through the air. Even if her and Faith could keep their current speed up forever, which was starting to prove increasingly unlikely, they were still slowly giving up ground.

“Just keep going,” Faith offered unhelpfully.

Buffy exerted a little more energy by rolling her eyes. “Really wasn't... planning to stop,” she muttered to herself.

----------

Giles had remained passive when Ethan had taken charge back at The Magic Box. He'd watched in silence as Ethan doled out the names of ingredients for the others to track down. He didn't even offer to lend a hand, instead spending his time waiting and hoping that there'd be some obvious sign that gave away Ethan's true intentions.

There'd been nothing of the sort though, and once the various supplies had been gathered they had begun making their way to the last suspected location of Buffy and Faith. Ethan had explained how they'd needed to perform the spell close to the original portal so they could make use of any remaining energy, and all Giles could do was hope he had the right place.

“How does it work?” Willow asked, breaking the silence that had followed them through the otherwise empty streets of Sunnydale. “The spell,” she clarified when Ethan remained silent.

“You do the locomotion and you turn around,” Ethan replied, a hint of sarcasm detectable in his dry voice. “How do you think it works? Same as any other spell. You combine the ingredients. You say the right words. Shed a little blood for good measure and alakazam, the portal opens. Simple as that.”

“I know that. But I mean... every ingredient has certain properties. Like I know Mugwort can be used for clairvoyance. So I guess that's to help find where Buffy and Faith are, right?”

Giles rubbed at his furrowed brow. Ethan using blood in a spell was hardly newsworthy, but the idea had always turned his own stomach, and the way Willow glazed right over it was a little unsettling. It wasn't the time to delve into it, especially when Ethan would be more than willing to play devil's advocate, but he made a mental note to find out just how far Willow had progressed on her own.

“Give the amateur a medal,” Ethan called out in the same dry, mocking tone.

“Hey! I'm not... I know what I'm doing. I'll have you know I've tried all sorts of spells. A-and most of them work without a hitch.”

Ethan's blunt laugh said it all, and Willow's proud look slipped straight off her face. The replacing narrowed eyes and pouted lips placed her somewhere between annoyed and upset. She wrapped her arms tight around her stomach and leaned in closer to Oz who gave her a reassuring peck on the side of her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She remained silent for several minutes before regaining enough of her composure to try again. “What's the Orris root for? I know I've heard of it. I just don't remember where.”

“It's for turning overly inquisitive people into toads. Somebody please tell me we're almost there.” Ethan's melodramatic, pleading voice made it sound more like he'd been the victim of days of psychological abuse rather than the target of a few innocent questions. “Nobody told me I'd signed up to teach introduction to witchcraft. Really, Rupert, did we need to bring the kids along?”

“Will you bloody well stop acting like such an arrogant sod,” Giles barked, turning his head to show Ethan the same glare that had been firmly plastered on his face since Ethan's arrival. He didn't like working with Ethan, or associating with him, or even knowing him. And the fact that there were two lives on the line, and that Ethan might be the key to saving them, only diminished his mood even further.

Ethan smirked in return. “Sorry, old chap. Didn't mean to hurt the girl's feelings.”

There was nothing sincere about his apology, and with that the atmosphere reached an icy, new low, putting an abrupt end to the conversation until they reached the cemetery.

----------

It was hard to put a finger on when exactly it had happened, but at some point since becoming the Slayer Buffy had learnt a very important lesson: the belief that things couldn't get any worse was nothing more than a big, fat lie made up by someone who had clearly never set foot in Sunnydale.

That was the reason she expressed her feelings with nothing more than a knowing sigh when she set eyes on a small group of Shek's demons ahead of her and Faith. There were only four of them, but she didn't have the energy to throw a punch, yet alone engage in a full-on fight. She'd gone too long without sleep, food or drink, and it felt like the last of the moisture in her body was currently seeping out through her skin. She couldn't muster the energy to suggest a plan of action, even though their options basically boiled down to veer left or veer right and hope for the best.

“Keep going,” Faith said, as if she'd plucked the options from Buffy's mind and already discounted both of them.

“This is dangerous,” Buffy warned plainly, finding no real desire to fight the idea. She suspected what Faith had in mind, and it wasn't her worst idea ever; no, that would definitely take some doing, she thought to herself. Her lips curled upward in amusement at that thought, but she quickly forced herself to focus on the more serious matters at hand.

The demons had already spotted them, unsheathed their weapons, and began their approach to meet them head on; apparently they hadn't got the memo that the two of them were meant to be off limits for at least another half day.

“Slow down,” Faith ordered next after checking over her shoulder.

Buffy was about ready to collapse, so those two words were all the convincing she needed to drop to a fast jog. Strangely her legs were less cooperative, seemingly so wrapped up with their current pace that they began to wobble in confusion as she urged them to slow. The extra effort required to stay upright stopped her from looking behind for herself, but she hoped Faith would have mentioned if she was about to lose a chunk of her leg.

She could hear the creatures behind them slurping back up their dripping saliva – though she knew it was strictly all in her head – and she hoped they didn't have an inherent preference for the exotic flesh of Americans. As they approached the green-skinned demons, the nearest had already grasped its double-sided axe in both hands, and it didn't bother to slow down before it reared back ready to swing.

Having expected something aimed more for her neck, when the axe instead swiped across much lower Buffy had to quickly abandon her plan to roll underneath. She instead threw herself up, twisting her body to the side – and pulling in her stomach for good measure – to pass over the blade she'd lost sight of.

She hit the ground on her side and rolled to a halt, and she was glad to find her body still in one seamless piece. As she scrambled back to her feet she heard a surprised cry from one of the demons. She turned their way, ready to defend herself from anything that attacked, but as hoped, the two groups were already busy with one another. She took a couple of steps back, passing Faith who stood watching the show. “Faith, come on!” Which of the groups came out on top was the least of her concerns; she just wanted to be far enough away that they didn't need to deal with the winner.

Faith nodded but didn't look in any hurry to comply, and before Buffy could provide a further prodding the ground around them began to shake. A near deafening sound filled her ears, a cross between the rush of escaping air and the enraged crashing of waves against a cliff, and as she turned around she could see wisps of deep-purple smoke billowing up from the ground. Prepared for a whole new set of problems, she instinctively took a step back toward the fighting demons. As the smoke took form, it became obvious that this wasn't some new threat, and her eyes lit up. “Faith!” she said, her voice high in excitement, and she blindly tugged on the girl's arm more fiercely. “Portal. Now.”

That drew Faith's attention, and she instantly turned to eye it up.

A glimmering, silver silhouette bulged in and out, looking like it had to fight hard to hold together the continually swirling energy between its borders. Small slithers of bright light crackled to the surface only to become engulfed a second later, and Buffy found herself getting lost in the repeating cycle.

“Err, B? Not to be all doom and gloom, but how do we know this thing's going to the right stop?”

Snapping out of it, Buffy shrugged lightly and gave a small, optimistic smile. The thought hadn't occurred to her, but she hoped they were due some good luck. “Cross your fingers?”

Faith smirked. “Good enough for me.”

“And you know what they say... only one way to find out.” Buffy took several strides forward and bent her knees ready to propel herself into the portal and, hopefully, all the way home.

Her heels had already left the ground, but she hesitated at the last moment, noticing that Faith had vanished from her side. She had to lean back to avoid falling right into it. Turning, she found Faith several feet behind, just standing there watching.

Buffy held out her hands in question. “Come on. This thing might not stay open for long.”

Faith's brow furrowed and her attempted step forward brought her no closer. “I'm trying!”

“What? Faith, stop messing around!” Even as the accusatory words left Buffy's mouth, the uneasy sensation beginning to stir in her stomach told her something was wrong.

“I'm not. It won't...” Faith pushed forward hard with two flat palms, causing a muted thud as if she'd just thrown her fists into a brick wall. “What the hell?”

Buffy stepped forward, reaching out tentatively but finding nothing blocking her way. She grabbed hold of one of Faith's arms with both her own and pulled hard. Even her Slayer strength couldn't drag Faith any closer to the portal, and she was forced to stop before she ended up dislocating Faith's shoulder.

“Son of a bitch,” Faith muttered, her eyes shifting up and down as if trying to size up the invisible wall.

Buffy just stared in confusion, and before she could say a word a low, rumbling sound came from behind her. She instantly spun, staring at the swirling energy in front of her. Her first worried thoughts were that their lifeline was about to withdraw, but when the noise came again she managed to decipher part of it.

“Giles?” she said, briefly pausing in shock before loudly repeating his name two more times.

----------

“Yes, it's me!” Giles shouted, once again at the top of his lungs, stressing each word clearly. “You have to jump through!” His face was pressed so close to the portal that an accidental stumble would send him careening through instead.

“We can't. Something's wrong. Faith can't get close.” Each word crawled slowly from the portal, a continuous drawl that was barely recognisable. It didn't sound much like Buffy, but the mention of Faith was proof enough for Giles.

“It's strictly one at a time,” Ethan pointed out calmly, making it clear his investment was minimal. “Tell her to come through first. Once she's out, Faith will be able to follow.”

“Are you certain?” Giles asked, still shouting even though Ethan could easily hear him. He stayed facing the portal, unwilling to take his eyes from it in case it used the opportunity to sneak closed. The sweltering heat emitting from its centre had already brought several beads of sweat to his forehead, but he stood his ground ready to hear anything that Buffy might say.

“Absolutely,” Ethan replied with complete confidence. “All part of the spell. After all, the last thing we'd want is a horde of merry demons along for the ride. I think we can all agree this town has its fair share.”

Giles continued to stare at the portal, his breath heavy from all the shouting. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before calling out once more. “Buffy. You have to--”

“Wait!” Willow's shout took him by surprise, leaving his mouth gaping open ready for the next word. “Don't. It's a trick.”

That proved enough to get Giles to finally turn around. His gaze jumped back and forth between her and Ethan as he tried to find a glimpse of what was going on.

“What are you talking about?” Ethan asked, shooting her an irritated glare. “Maybe you should stick to your chemistry classes and leave the rest to the grown-ups.”

Willow's eyes hardened and she remained resolute. “No. I remember now. The Orris root. I knew I'd heard of it somewhere. It's usually used for spiritual protection, b-but mix it with Sandalwood and you've got the foundations for a binding spell.”

“You haven't got a clue,” Ethan growled before quickly regaining his composure. “Rupert, this is a one-shot deal. There won't be enough energy left from the initial portal to pull this off again. If you want your girls back then you're going to have to trust me.”

“Giles, no!” Willow pleaded, shaking her head in desperation. “I'm sure about this, I swear. He-he didn't use the earrings to find Buffy, he used them to bind the portal to her essence.”

Willow eyed the small nest of spell ingredients on the floor between herself and Ethan. Her eyes flicked briefly to him before she made her move, but the hesitation gave him time to see what she had planned. He moved just as quick, catching her by both arms and roughly throwing her to the ground.

Before he could follow up, a right hook from Oz took him down next. As Oz stood guard over him, Giles moved over and grabbed the small object that sat dead centre inside the spell circle.

From the ground, Ethan shouted up, “Do it and it's over, Ripper. They'll both be lost forever.”

Giles stared blankly at the small package in his hands. Loosely held in Orris root and Sandalwood, only a glimmer of the earrings poked out from their wrapping, but it wouldn't take any effort to free them. He looked down at Willow who nodded back confidently while Oz helped her to her feet. With a deep breath and a muttered plea to anything that might be listening, he grabbed the herbs and plucked them apart.

Freed, the earrings fell between his fingers. Before they'd even landed in the dirt, a wave of white light rushed out from the portal, the accompanying shock wave taking the unprepared group straight off their feet.

----------

Buffy was the closest she'd been to home in the last two days. She could already feel her soft, warm bedding calling for her. She could already hear her mother's voice asking her if she was staying for dinner, just as she always did, making no attempt to hide the hopefulness in the question.

However there was still one final step left to take before she could have either, and it was proving to be the most challenging of them all. Even letting herself fall back would be enough to bring it all to an end. She'd be home. With her mother. With her friends. With her life.

But without Faith. She stared at her silently, willing herself to think up some brilliant idea that could save them both.

Faith was looking back, a slither of a smile fitting right in on her determined face. Buffy could see that she was trying her hardest to look like everything was OK, and she was doing a pretty good job of it. But no matter how adamantly Faith insisted that she'd be fine, behind the façade there were signs that she looked drained – her skin was tinged red, her breaths were still laboured, her posture wavered like a strong gust of wind might be all it took to knock her over. Left completely alone in a world where everything wanted her dead, Buffy knew that she couldn't last long.

So how was she supposed to just promise to come back when she knew full well that there might be nothing left to come back for? How could she simply walk away after everything? The answer was glaringly obvious: she couldn't. She wouldn't. “We'll find another way,” she promised, irritated when she heard her own doubt making itself known through her thin voice.

Faith slowly shook her head, equally aware that the chances of that were slim. “It's OK. This is the only way. You should go.” Her tone was warm and encouraging, no sign of anger or envy to be found.

“No,” Buffy pleaded, her eyes beginning to dampen. “You know I can't.”

“You have to. I mean it, B. Get your ass through there now. Go!” Faith tried to point Buffy toward it and didn't even react when her hand slapped off the invisible barrier.

“No!” Buffy reasserted, managing to push some strength back into her voice. She grit her teeth and locked her determined eyes on Faith. She'd had a little time to regain her breath, but her heart was beating just as fast as when she'd been running for her life. Some small part of her would have jumped at taking Faith up on her offer, but the rest was desperately trying to think of anything that could help.

“Damn it, B, just--”

“Shut up!” Buffy shouted, edging toward frantic now. Their beacon of hope was nothing more than a lie. Her thoughts were muddled. The soft, inviting hum of the traitor stood behind her was leaving her light-headed.

She didn't have a plan when she started to walk away from the portal, and she never got the chance to form one. First there was the sound of a swift, muted fizz, and then she was moving forward a lot faster than she'd have liked.

Taken completely off her feet, it was left to Faith's reactions to catch her. Neither of them were on top form though, and the element of surprise proved stronger. Faith got her hands up on Buffy's arms too late to halt her fall, and she only ended up softening Buffy's landing as they both went down, the disembodied head falling from her grip and rolling toward the portal.

Faith let out a small grunt of complaint when Buffy's knee came down hard on her thigh. “Jeez, B. You're heavier than you look,” she said light-heartedly, her small smile faltering but ultimately remaining intact.

While Faith's hands were still holding her up, Buffy readjusted her legs so she was mostly supporting herself. “I'm sorry,” she replied quietly. She was looking down into Faith's eyes, close enough that strands of her hair were resting on the sides of Faith's face.

Faith's brow furrowed. “Hey, I'm just kidding. Pretty sure it won't even bruise.”

Buffy swallowed, trying to wet her throat. “No, I mean... I couldn't get us back. I tried, I did... I just...”

Faith let one hand wander up to Buffy's face, her fingers pressing lightly against the girl's cheek. “Don't. It's OK. There's nothing you could have done. But you have to go now, Buffy. I'll keep out of trouble. Promise.”

Buffy gave a small, sad smile. She bit her bottom lip, refusing to let free any of the tears that were trying to push their way out.

The nearby ruckus had fallen away from her thoughts, but it was brought instantly back as she saw something coming at them out the corner of her eye. Faith must have seen it too because she rolled them both across the ground without warning. The corpse landed only an inch away, and Buffy tucked in her arm before the blood running freely off its face could latch on to her sleeve.

She was about to offer her thanks when she realized where they were. She wasn't sure if she should believe it, but she nodded to direct Faith's attention. At that moment it didn't matter how tired they were; they both shot to their feet in an instant, the portal hanging open right in front of them. With a flick of her foot, Faith knocked the creature's head up and caught a handful of its hairs with one hand. “Well that's me all packed.”

“You first,” Buffy said. “Just in case.”

“No,” was Faith's firm and immediate reply.

A torrid scream from another demon behind them told Buffy they didn't have time to argue. “Fine.” She took Faith's hand into her own and held it tightly, refusing to leave anything to chance. Faith squeezed back just as hard. “After three?”

Faith nodded.

“One... Two...”

“Three,” Faith finished, and the two of them jumped forward, letting the smoke and light envelop them.

Buffy had to keep her eyes closed tight, but even then the light found its way in. As she roughly tumbled and turned through the air she tried desperately to keep her hold on Faith. Her hands were sweaty though, and she could feel her grip slipping. Faith moved away, and Buffy tightened her hold further, only able to clutch onto the tips of Faith's fingers. Within a matter of seconds she didn't even have that. She flung her arm out wildly, trying to feel for anything but catching hold of nothing. She shouted Faith's name but didn't even hear the word leave her throat.

After what seemed like an eternity of turbulent falling she suddenly came to a hard stop, landing awkwardly on the side of one arm. She groaned, forced her eyes open, and had to blink several times to fight back the bright lights that had imprinted themselves at the front of her view. The blurry shapes around her took their time to slip back into focus, but when they did she recognised the cemetery instantly and spotted her friends stumbling to their feet nearby. Her gaze flicked around in panic, then her whole body relaxed when she found Faith sitting nearby, rubbing at her ankle.

Faith caught her look. “Well that was fun, huh?” she dead-panned. “Those things should come with a seatbelt.”

Letting out a loud, relieved breath, Buffy dropped down on to her back, her arms splayed out to her sides wherever they happened to land. She let her head rest against the ground and closed her eyes. Maybe she didn't need a bed right away.

There was something to be said for the necessities of life once you'd gone without them for a few days and, for Buffy, the food, drink and sleep she'd gotten earlier that day had never felt so amazing. She'd had half a mind to keep her head buried deep into her impossibly soft pillow throughout the entire evening and night as well, but her mother had already become suspicious after she'd literally moaned into a plate stacked with more maple-drowned pancakes than even Faith could usually manage. In fact, for the first time ever Buffy had kept up with the other girl bite for bite – albeit barely. It was best not to mention the vast number of orange juice cartons they'd gulped down between them, but sufficed to say, it had left her mother wondering if she was struggling to feed herself at college. By the time she had dragged herself up to to her old room, she'd been too stuffed to bother undressing, instead collapsing onto the bed face first and falling into a deep sleep where she landed.

There was still work to be done though, and by six o'clock her and Faith had joined Willow and Giles at The Magic Box to see whether their souvenir held any worth.

“I've seen Oz in wolf form once or twice now,” Willow said as she motioned toward the decapitated head laid on the table in front of her, “but this thing is creepy on a whole new level. I'm not sure I want to know what the rest of it looked like.”

“You probably don't,” Buffy agreed. “But if you can picture a werewolf with a bad case of rabies that had spent a good few weeks scratching clumps of its own hair off, you're about half way there.”

Willow shuddered. “Eee. Yep, I definitely didn't want to know that.” Using one of a pair of small, metal blades, she carefully lifted back the top lip from the creature's head to reveal the roots of its sharp teeth. Its gums were blotchy, stained with slithers of dark red that could just as easily have been from disease as dried blood. “It seems like the venom was a thick viscous – think cough medicine, only less tasty – which formed somewhere behind its upper jaw, leaked out through its gums, and coated its teeth to produce a pretty nasty bite for anything unlucky enough to find itself stuck between its jaws.”

That was definitely something Buffy didn't need to be told, but it wasn't the part that caught her attention the most. “Not liking the past tense here, Will.”

Willow looked over apologetically. “Its really not all that surprising that it stopped producing the substance once it, err, lost its head.” With the second blade she gently scraped down one of its large front teeth several times. When she held up the edge of the blade for Buffy and Faith to get a look at the trail of pale goo, Buffy was quick to lean back, having absolutely no desire to get too close. Willow brought the blade close to her face, sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose. “There are still traces though, and fingers crossed we might find more stored inside.”

“There'd better be,” Faith chipped in. “I didn't lug that thing around just to improve my street cred.”

“Remind me never to go to your streets,” Buffy quipped, not getting the desired result when both Faith and Willow just looked at her strangely. “Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. And let's not forget that I've had a rough couple of days.” She looked between Faith and Willow, nodding her head in an attempt to encourage some small amount of sympathy from at least one of them.

“B? Might wanna try quitting while you're... well, behind, but only a little.”

Buffy's face fell into full-on sulk mode, but before she could defend herself further the room to the back opened and Giles poked his head out. “Faith, might I have a quick word?” he asked politely.

Faith first glanced Buffy's way before replying, “Yeah, sure.”

As the two of them disappeared through to the back, Buffy looked to Willow for an explanation but only received a shrug in return.

Willow didn't even give the door a chance to fully close before changing the topic. “So how was it?”

“The trip to hell? Pretty much as advertised,” Buffy replied. She hadn't had a chance to talk to Willow since returning. Or technically she had, but she'd wanted to get home and get something to eat as fast as super-humanly possible. Then when her and Faith had arrived at The Magic Box and noticed the broken shelves, smashed glass, and general disarray spread across the shop floor – and it had been a little difficult not to – the topic had instantly turned to how Giles could have the heart to throw a party in their absence. Giles had been less than amused with the pair's mock accusations, as evidence by his prompt relocation to the back room – possibly to shed a few tears, Buffy considered.

“No, not that!” Willow complained, as if that much should have been obvious. “I mean with Faith.” She placed the blades down on the small, metal tray sat alongside the creature's head and abandoned the tools to scoot closer. “Did you get a chance to have that talk? The one about... you know, the one.”

“Hmm... I seem to recall there being a brief discussion,” Buffy offered vaguely, putting a finger to her lips and looking up in mock thought.

“And was there anything else?” Willow prodded, lowering her voice conspiratorially and raising her eyebrows in anticipation.

“There wasn't a whole lot of time for making out, if that's what you're asking,” Buffy replied. After a short pause she coyly added, “Well, I suppose there was that one opening.” She let a grin slowly spread across her face, and Willow's eyes widened instantly.

“Really? How was it? Was it good? I bet it was. She's probably had a lot of practice. I-I mean not a lot of practice. Just a bit of... and I bet they didn't mean anything. The other ones that is. B-but I'm sure yours did.”

Her mouth switched back and forth between an optimistic smile and a pensive, worried frown, but she relaxed again when Buffy just smiled at her hurried rambling.

“It's OK, Will, I'm aware of Faith's... history. Not in gory detail or anything, but I think I get the gist. And yeah, it was... nice.” Buffy knew that probably wasn't the right word for it, but she wasn't about to admit to almost sucking Faith's face off either. She wasn't sure if she was even ready to admit that to herself yet, but there was one thing she did know: it certainly hadn't sucked.

Willow clapped her hands together, making no attempt to hide her excitement. “So does that mean you're... are you dating?” The final word came out in a high-pitched whisper.

Buffy paused again, and that time not just to tease Willow's curiosity. Asking Faith out had been somewhat of a fence-mending exercise – a compromise that she hadn't spent the time to fully think through. However during the fleeting moments where she'd had time to consider it further, she'd become certain it wasn't a mistake. Or if it was, it was one she'd need to make to know for sure. Either way, even talking about it with Willow right then was enough to stir to life her own excitement. “There are plans,” she said finally. “Or foundations ready to make plans, at least. I believe the current idea is that once we thwart this invasion, maybe we'll go for coffee or something... Do people still do that?” She frowned in jest. “Wait, did people ever do that?”

Willow just stood staring at her with a steadily growing grin on her face.

“What?” Buffy asked, her eyes shifting as she began to feel a touch self-conscious.

“You're giddy! Oh, Buffy! I haven't seen you giddy since... well, for a long time.” Without warning, Willow rushed forward and pulled Buffy into a hug. “This is going to be so much fun. We can go on double dates and everything.”

“Whoa, down girl,” Buffy replied, giving Willow a quick squeeze back before carefully peeling her arms off. “Don't you think maybe we should wait and see how the first one pans out before we start putting together my life plans?”

“OK,” Willow agreed, only a hint of disappointment showing itself. “But just so we're clear, you are looking forward to it, right?”

Buffy's face must have said it all because Willow was almost hopping up and down on the spot. At that moment the door to the back swung open again and Faith strolled out. Buffy's eyes were instantly drawn to her, and even as Faith stopped in front of them she couldn't tear them away. Panicking for a reason she didn't know, she let out a lame, “Hey,” before she could stop herself.

“Hey, yourself,” Faith said, her brow furrowing slightly. Her gaze switched back and forth between the two of them, and given that Willow was still wearing a silly grin on her face and Buffy was starting to feel uncomfortably warm, it wasn't too surprising that she ended up eyeing them both suspiciously. “OK, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Buffy and Willow immediately replied in unison, causing Faith's frown to deepen.

Buffy nervously cleared her throat. She tried to act casual as she looked Faith in the eye, but she ended up reaching to tussle the back of her hair anyway. “So, umm, what did Giles want?”

“He offered me a job,” Faith said casually.

Buffy had not seen that coming. “A job? Doing what?” She couldn't picture Faith having the patience to deal with customers. In fact, she had a hard time picturing Faith working anywhere. Ever. She didn't know if the girl had even worked a single day in her entire life.

“Basically? Security. Not his words, but I'm pretty sure that's what he was getting at. Guess the store invasion still has his panties in a twist.”

Buffy smirked for two reasons. The first being that an anti-demon security gig was actually about the most apt a job as Faith was ever likely to receive, and the second being that she had been right about The Magic Box since the beginning. “Well he can't say I didn't warn him. Personally I'm surprised it took this long.” It wasn't so much an I-told-you-so moment, she decided, more like a small reminder that certain unnamed people should give her more credit sometimes. And with that out of her system – at least until Giles showed his face again – she asked, “So are you going to take it?”

“Never say no to money; that's my motto. And with training, research and whatever else, it's not like I don't already spend half my time here anyway. Might as well get paid for it. Plus I told him I'd only do it if you handled half my research.” She shrugged casually while keeping a careful watch on Buffy. “He said that was cool.”

“You did what?” Buffy asked, shifting from surprised to completely horrified. Her jaw dropped wide open and the tiniest of squeaks croaked out from her throat. Her mouth just hung there, inoperable, until she noticed the amused grin that had completely consumed Faith's face. “Wait a minute, Giles would never even use that word.”

“You're right, I think the phrase he used was 'jolly good, pip-pip',” Faith said, the complete hash she made of feigning his accent making Buffy laugh.

“That was so mean,” Buffy complained, trying to hold back a smile as she threw Faith a faux glare. “I hate you.”

“No you don't,” Faith replied coolly.

“You're right, I don't hate you. Worse: I nothing you!” She pointed a finger at Faith. “Consider yourself nothing'd.”

Faith's hand shot out and grabbed her held out arm unexpectedly, tugging her forward hard, and Buffy stumbled straight into her waiting arms. One landed on her upper arm, the other on her hip. Caught off guard, she opened her mouth to say something before realizing she had no words planned. For her part, Willow coughed and returned her attention to the severed demon head.

“You sure about that?” Faith asked huskily, her head dipping dangerously close to Buffy's neck.

Buffy's award-winning impression of a fish was brought to an abrupt end when she saw Giles push through the door, and she quickly untangled herself from Faith and took a long stride back. Telling Willow how she felt was one thing – she was her best friend. But Giles really didn't need to know; he'd probably have a heart attack or something, she decided.

“Right then, shall we get down to business?” Giles asked.

“Mm-hmm.” Buffy nodded and forced a smile to her face, knowing full well that she looked incredibly guilty of something.

----------

With the hilt of her sword firmly gripped in one hand, and a flash light in the other, Buffy lead the way through one of her least favourite Sunnydale hangouts – the sewers. Faith followed closely, making do with Buffy's light even though her own one was sticking out from her jacket pocket.

It wasn't how Buffy had envisioned spending her first night back home, but once again destiny refused to be fobbed off by an answer machine. Sometime between showing up at The Magic Box and scurrying away during the commotion of their return, Ethan had told Giles this is where the demonic trio could be found. Unfortunately 'sewers' was as specific as he had been and, as she was already well aware, there was an awful lot of mileage to get through.

“You know how many washes it takes to get the smell of sewer out your hair?” Buffy asked idly, desperate to hear anything other than the gentle swishing of flowing water that came from nearby. Focus and the element of surprise were both good motivators for staying quiet, but almost an entire hour spent trudging through the damp and dark in silence was more than enough to drive anybody insane.

“Three?” Faith guessed, obviously unconcerned.

“More like twenty,” Buffy exaggerated. “Oh sure, people will tell you they can't smell anything, but you just know it's still there, sinking its evil little claws into your roots.”

“It's a smell, B. I don't think it can have claws. Besides, this place isn't that bad. You should try an all-night kegger at Pleasure Bay. Come sunrise, smells like there's more sweat on the sand than salt in the sea. Even the cops don’t want any part of it and hell knows they like to ruin a party.”

Buffy let the torch light wander up the wall on both sides, looking for blood, guts or something less sinister that might hint that they were on the right track; all she found was enough mould growing between the cracks in the brickwork to start her very own fungus farm and a large spider that quickly scuttled away from the light. “I never knew alcohol was such hard work.”

Faith snorted in amusement. “Don't think the drinking was the problem, at least not directly anyway. I guess you could say the place lives up to its name.”

Catching on, Buffy had to hold back a groan. “Gee, well I appreciate the offer and all, Faith, but I think I'll just stick with the quiet life.”

“Yeah, well it passed the time.”

Buffy held her tongue, leaving the conversation to die right there. She hoped Faith had been there strictly for the beer, but she didn't want to judge her either way and not knowing just how involved she had been in the 'festivities' would make that a lot easier.

Sticking to what was quickly becoming a ritual, she tilted her torch down as they approached the latest in the never ending maze of intersections. When there was no evidence of looming danger, or even the chance of mild excitement, she shone the light in each of the three directions. Finding each one was as bland as all the others, she opted to continue straight on.

They carried on in silence for a while longer before Faith spoke up. “So this Ethan guy. Pretty much bad news, right?”

“Pretty much,” Buffy agreed.

“From what you told me it kinda sounds like his track record's not so hot.”

“Uh-huh.” Buffy glanced back knowingly at Faith; she could tell where this was headed, but it wasn't as if Faith's concerns weren't entirely justified.

“And we're trusting him?”

“That's about the gist of it.”

“Can I just ask.... why? Not that you're a bad tour guide or anything, but I'm not crazy about blindly taking his word that we'll find anything down here.”

“I know this isn't ideal, and I don't like it any more than you do.”

“Now don't go taking this the wrong way or anything, B, but unless he's tried to leave you hanging in another dimension, I'm doubting that.”

“Well not exactly.” Buffy's arm shot out to the side to stop Faith in her tracks, and they stood perfectly still, Buffy holding her breath. She let it out once a rat scampered across the floor just ahead of them. After shaking her head at herself she quickly regained her train of thought. “Ooh, but this one time he did tie me down, stain my unblemished skin, and leave me to be eaten by a possessed dead woman,” she said, forcing herself to sound chipper. “Does that count for anything?”

“Huh,” Faith replied plainly. “And again I ask: why?”

“Look, Faith, Ethan is not on our side; you'll get no argument from me there. And if he turns up again I will kick his ass so bad he'll spend the next year trading enchantments for painkillers. But he's not all 'death to the world' either. No more world means no more people for him to get his kicks with. This info might be legit, and at the moment we're not exactly stretched thin with leads.”

“OK.”

“OK,” Buffy echoed, glancing back before doing a complete double take. “Wait, what? That's it?” she asked disbelievingly. She stopped and fully turned, making Faith squint when she unwittingly shone the torch straight in her face. Faith put a hand up to protect her eyes until Buffy realized what she was doing and aimed the light at their feet.

Faith's shrug suggested it wasn't a big deal. “Sure.”

Buffy's eyebrows pinched together in wonder, and she began to think she'd somehow offended the other girl. “Is everything OK? Did I say something I shouldn't have?”

“Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?”

“I don't know,” Buffy admitted. She had a hard time figuring Faith out sometimes. It seemed that whenever she'd expect her to do one thing, Faith would turn around and do something she hadn't even considered instead. “You're being all stoic, not to mention that was a pretty fast turnaround to suddenly trusting the guy.”

“Never said I trusted him. But I trust you, so if you think this might check out then I'll be right behind you.”

Like that, Buffy thought to herself. It was a few counties away from any answer she had been expecting and, caught off guard, the only word that popped out of her mouth was, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Faith replied with an equal amount of awkwardness. Her body twisted as if she was about to move away but she ended up turning back before taking a single step. “I know I haven't really said it before, but I do. I trust you. And I know you could have left me behind back there, so... thanks.”

Buffy smiled but slowly shook her head. “No I couldn't,” she said sincerely. “We promised to look out for each other, remember? No matter what.”

----------

By the time the pair had called it a night they'd been wandering along side by side, their guards long dropped, talking freely as if they'd been taking a pleasant stroll through a crowded, well-lit park. It wasn't until they were almost back on higher ground that footsteps began to echo toward them from an adjacent tunnel. They positioned themselves flat against the wall closest to the source of the sound, and a single twist of the flash light let the sewers slip into utter darkness.

The numerous overlapping footsteps blended into a single, constant sound, suggesting that it wasn't the demons – or if it was then they'd brought company. There were too many of them to make out the exact number, but Buffy guessed there were more of whatever they were than she'd like to deal with. As a new source of light crept up the wall opposite them, she silently shuffled to her side, easing closer to Faith and the retreating shroud of shadow.

The two of them stood in silence, and it wasn't long before the group walked right by them. Nobody was paying enough attention to their surroundings to spot their shadowed bodies, much to Buffy's relief. The group was seven strong and Buffy's eyes zeroed in on the odd one out. Each of them looked to be about the right size and shape for a human, though with six of them hidden beneath black cloaks it was hard to be certain. The seventh was instead decked in a dark-green, sleeveless vest layered over the top of a lighter green shirt, along with a pair of matching camouflage pants. Stood near the centre of the miniature parade, a piece of rope kept his hands tightly secured behind his back. He didn't put up a fight as he was marched forward, but that was a wise move given his overwhelming odds.

Once the Slayers were left alone, the darkness didn't wait before clinging back around them. Buffy reached out blindly and tugged at whatever part of Faith's jacket she'd grabbed hold of to let her know they needed to follow them. Placing a hand on the opposite wall, she carefully felt her away around the corner just in time to watch the light from the group fade away down a right turn up ahead. “Stay close,” she whispered behind her, barely finishing what she was saying before Faith bumped straight into her back. Startled, she let out a small gasp and fumbled with her torch before ultimately managing to keep hold of it. “Not that close.”

“Sorry. Can't see a damn thing. The next time we have to come down here, Giles can shell out for some night vision goggles or something.”

“Here.” Buffy turned to her side and reached out again, found Faith's arm, and began sliding her hand along it.

“Not that I'm about to stop you, but is this really the best time for some hanky panky?”

“You're hilarious,” Buffy said flatly. She reached Faith's hand and took it in her own. “Now shut up and come on. Unless you'd rather spend the entire night down here trying to find them again.” Not allowing any time for an objection, Buffy started moving as fast as she could feasibly manage in the dark, dragging Faith behind her.

Keeping a tunnel's length behind the group, they stalked their prey through the sewers, awkwardly feeling their way along in the dark. Faith had the advantage of not being the guinea pig, meaning it was Buffy who ended up the victim of an unexpected step. Luckily Faith's strong grip proved enough to keep Buffy from going all the way down, which in turn saved her jeans from a potentially messy encounter with the small pool of water that was busying itself with the task of soaking her socks. The horrible squelch she felt each time her foot hit the ground did not make the task any less miserable.

One turn after another left her wondering which part of Sunnydale was even above them, and she figured finding their way back up there would be a whole world of fun. Thankfully the tunnels finally opened up into a much wider area, one which was well lit by torches, and as Buffy peeked carefully around the corner she could see the cultists – their hoods folded back – stood in front of the trio of demons. Taking no chances, she ducked her head back around to safety, and while she couldn't see what was going on, the sounds of their voices carried easily enough to be heard.

When the first person spoke up, Buffy instantly recognised the voice as Jacob's. “We found them. The place is locked up pretty tight, but luckily for you, this here is the key. Very soldier shaped in its appearance, granted, but he was heading up a team. I reckon he has the clearance to let us stroll right on in.”

“I'll die before I let you in anywhere,” came a confident voice that Buffy hadn't heard before – though it was a safe bet it belonged to the prisoner.

“Come now, that won't be necessary,” said a quiet, female voice, so soft that Buffy had trouble making it out. “I'm sure I can bring you around to our way of thinking.” Her tone became more commanding without rising in volume. “Tie him down. I will see to him soon, but first I shall send word back home. The troops must be readied; we open the portal tonight.”

Buffy shot Faith a worried look before she risked sticking her neck around the corner again. A demon with long, white hair flowing down her back was already making her way down a tunnel at the back of the area, and the black-haired one that had sent them on their unwanted vacation was following the group of cultists and their prisoner somewhere out of sight.

Buffy couldn't believe their luck, “OK, they're splitting up. The super-sized one that attacked you in the cemetery is still there. The rest have gone,” she reported back. “This might be the best opening we get.”

Buffy could hear Faith tapping the handle of her axe against her hand. “Alright then. Time for a little payback.”

Sticking close together, they crept forward. Buffy reached inside the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small syringe. At first glance it looked completely empty, but that wasn't the case at all. Willow had been able to extract enough of the poison from a small gland at the back of the creature's head for one generous dose, but she had worried that splitting it three ways likely wouldn't produce the desired effects fast enough. So while Buffy didn't have the answer to all their problems in that little needle, she hoped it would make for a pretty good start.

The remaining demon had its back turned, but before she was anywhere near close enough to jam the syringe straight through its neck it began moving away. Not wanting to give herself away by hurrying, she could only watch as it briskly walked down yet another tunnel, leaving the two Slayers alone.

Buffy turned to Faith to ask which of the three they should go after first, but Faith had already made up her mind. “I'll take out the big guy. You go after one of the others. We hit them hard before they get a chance to regroup. Then we can meet back here, finish the third off together.”

Buffy thought about it for a few moments. There was undoubtedly safety in numbers, but given how their previous encounters had gone she also wondered about their chances if they were left facing two of them at the same time, especially if there were going to be more projectiles flying all over the place. “OK, take this,” she said, holding out the syringe.

Faith shook her head. “You keep it.” She eyed her axe and gave it a quick spin. “I've got something to prove to giant, green and gleeful, and it wouldn't be half as much fun if he didn't feel every blow.”

Buffy could see the twin flickers of fire lighting up Faith's eyes and it did little to ease her concerns. “Faith?” she asked cautiously as she returned the syringe to her pocket for safe keeping.

“Yeah?”

“Please, promise me you won't do anything rash. We don't die – that's all that matters. Don't take any risks if you don't have to, and if things start looking bad, get gone.”

Faith's small grin just grew a little. “Hey, don't worry about me. I'll be five by five.”

“I mean it, Faith.” Buffy stepped closer. “We are this close to being home and dry. If something happens now...” She stopped her thoughts from going down that route. Even acknowledging that there were worst case scenarios was something she couldn't afford to do; staying alive meant staying focused, and that wouldn't happen if half her mind was busy worrying about Faith.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still so much to find out, and she wanted to know it all. Everything about Faith. Everything about them. What could happen. What would happen. There were a hundred questions and a thousand possibilities, but she knew all too well how every last one of them could be ripped away in a single heartbeat. Ms. Calender. Kendra. Even Angel. People died. She hated it more than anything, but that was her reality. It was the reason she'd vehemently insisted that the rest of the gang stayed back, and while she felt far more safe than she would have without Faith at her side, she was also anxious about being the only one to make it out. The idea of her own death didn't scare her like it once had, but the thought of losing someone else, especially Faith, was enough to make her stomach churn. Before she'd really even thought about it, her hand was up, the ends of her fingers directing Faith's face down toward her.

Faith watched intently for several long moments as if her eyes were trying to sift through Buffy's thoughts, and as Buffy brought her head closer she was quick to lean away. “Don't,” she said. “We're both walking out of here, B, so if this is meant to be some kind of goodbye then just don't.”

“It's not,” Buffy said firmly. She waited to let that sink in before trying again, and that time Faith stayed put. Buffy's eyes slipped shut as their lips met. The kiss was as soft as it was brief, a long way away from their first two, and yet that short time was filled with far more meaning. For Buffy it served both as a reminder to herself that they had unfinished business, but more importantly as a silent acknowledgement to Faith that however new it was, and however undefined it was, what they had between them mattered to her, even if it all came to an abrupt end that night. “Just be careful. You still owe me a date, remember, and I fully intend to collect.” Her hand lingered in place as the idea of splitting up began to feel more and more like a bad idea, but she wasn't given the chance to do anything about it.

Faith smiled, showing all the confidence in the world, and she kept her eyes locked on Buffy as she slowly backed away. “I'll see you soon,” she said – more a fact than a promise – and with that she turned and headed down the tunnel.

Buffy watched her go, waiting until she was alone before whispering a soft, “Good luck.” She tried to push her worries to one side, taking a long, deep breath to steel herself. There were still two tunnels to choose from, but she'd already made up her mind. “Better the demon you know,” she muttered under her breath.

Dark and dingy were essentially the bread and butter of the Slayer calling, but Faith hadn't taken to her current surroundings any more than she had the sewers. It wasn't that she took offence to there being nothing to look at but rock, rock, and more rock, but for as long as she could remember she'd simply hated being caged in. She wasn't claustrophobic, and she wasn't about to burst into tears either. But it made her antsy, and fighting in a confined area didn't leave her much room to stretch her legs, so to speak. One improvement over the sewers, at least, was the generous amount of torches affixed to the walls either side of her. She'd gotten used to things jumping out at her a long time ago, but she still preferred to see them coming.

She didn't know how anyone, human or otherwise, could find their way around down there. It wasn't just the cave tunnels that looked the same, but even the sewers had left her wondering if Buffy had known where they were going. Sure, Boston had sewers, but she'd been lucky enough to avoid them for all but a single, brief visit to finish off a fleeing vampire. That was something she supposed she should be grateful for, and it was also one of the few good things her home town had ever given her.

Luckily her path choices were limited to either carrying on or heading back, so she was unlikely to end up lost in the depths of Sunnydale for the next decade and a half. She edged her way around the gently curving tunnel, sticking as close to the rough walls as she could without scuffing the back of her jeans. It wasn't much longer before the tunnel gave way to another wide, bare area, and there she found herself stood across from the big, green oaf.

In a way she supposed she should thank him – she might never have made a move on Buffy if it hadn't been for him. On the other hand, that night had turned out to be one of the worst in her life, so she figured she'd compromise and thank him by making his death quick.

It must have been dinner time, she realized, and a look of disgust crossed her face. “Not to be all holier than thou or anything, but I'm thinking you need some better quality control on your meals. Honestly, I've seen better meat in a butcher's trash can.”

He lazily turned to face her before digging his teeth deep into the limb of something Faith had no desire to recognise. He took a single tug with his grinning mouth, and while he chewed he tossed the rest of his half-eaten meal to the side. He didn't feel the need to get through the swallowing part before he started speaking. “The runaway.” As he barked out a laugh, chewed up remains were spat everywhere, and Faith took a hasty step back, wanting absolutely no part of that. “I can count on one hand the opponents that have escaped me. None were fool enough to come back to Tarroth for more.”

Faith shrugged her indifference. “What can I say: it was this or infomercials.” She planted her feet a shoulder width apart, distributing her weight evenly and digging her heels into the ground, and she took a firm grip of her axe with both hands. “So how about it – one more spin, winner takes all?”

Still grinning, Tarroth unsheathed his broadsword and pointed the tip toward her throat. “For your spirit I shall tell the tale of our encounter for years to come. I will even leave out the part where you fled in fear.”

“And I appreciate the offer, but unless you've got resprouting limbs then that's gonna be tricky.” She frowned, suddenly realizing she didn't know what these demons were capable of. “You don't, right?” she asked, only half serious.

Tarroth didn't offer any clarification. He moved forward, crossing the room with a handful of long strides, and he brought his sword in a downward arc toward Faith's head. Unlike the last time they'd met, she was equipped to parry it. With one hand wrapped around each end of the axe handle, she held it up and outward, and metal clanged against metal, the solid steel standing up to the brunt of the broadsword.

More than a foot taller than Faith, Tarroth used his considerable size advantage to lean over her, pushing his weight down on the blade as he tried to drive it home. Both his hands and a series of drawn out grunts weren't enough to budge it an inch; Faith's arms were locked in place, and even as they began to tremble under the pressure they successfully held it at bay.

With a surge of energy she forced his sword away to the side before swinging her axe at this throat, but he recovered in time to parry her own attempt. Back and forth they went, taking turns with their vicious swings. A single blow should have been enough to bring the battle to an emphatic end, but neither of them found a hole in the other's defence.

A low, upward attack from Tarroth swung harmlessly by Faith but ended up getting lucky, the top of his sword hooking under the neck of her axe. She held on tight as he tried to lift it out of her hands, and for her trouble she received a hard elbow that caught her in the eye. It proved a big enough distraction to allow her weapon to be hoisted from her hands, and she watched as it flew across the cave. She instantly set her sights on recovering it, but Tarroth took a wide step to his side to block her route.

“Guess fair doesn't translate well,” Faith muttered, looking the smirking demon in the eye. “Fine by me.” Done with the pleasantries, she kicked low, and the toe of her boot landed right between his legs. With a roar of complaint he doubled over, and he moved a hand down far too late to protect himself. Gotta love the classics, she thought to herself, smirking back. She grabbed his ears with both hands and jumped, pulling his head down to meet her rising knees.

----------

With both hands loosely holding her dangling sword behind her back, Buffy stood patiently across the room from the demon as she waited for her to finish securing the prisoner in place.

“Hi,” she offered casually once Slarrine had turned around and noticed her.

Slarrine paused, seemingly taken aback. When she frowned, one of the thick, black veins that ran across her forehead looked like it was about to pop right out, and Buffy didn't know whether to laugh or gag.

“You again?” Slarrine asked.

“Me again,” Buffy confirmed.

“Unexpected,” Slarrine admitted before holding out an arm. “But I do hate to repeat myself.” Her eyes flashed, and a glob of black, swirling particles flew for Buffy's feet.

That, however, wasn't unexpected, and Buffy coolly back-flipped out of the way and then watched as the ground in front of her exploded, sending a cloud of dirt into the air and leaving a sizeable hole in the earth. “You should really be careful with those things,” she said, echoing the admonishing voice she'd heard so many times from her mother. “Somebody could lose a finger.”

Slarrine's eyes flashed again, and Buffy began to sprint. Pushing her legs as fast as she could, she circled around the room, avoiding a series of three more blasts before diving behind a low wall of rock. It proved enough to keep her safe from the next projectile, though she was left coughing on the large shower of dust that the explosion flung into her face.

“Is this your plan to defeat me? Run and hide?” Slarrine asked before letting out a wicked laugh.

The demon had a point. Buffy knew that, but she wasn't about to risk running head first into a flaming ball of death either. If she wanted to win she had to be smart. And she had to be quick about it, too, because she was pretty sure if she got hit by anything being thrown her way then things would go downhill fast.

“Move! Above you!”

The male voice could only have come from the man tied against the wall. Buffy had no idea who he was, nor did she take the time to consider whether he was trustworthy, but even as she glanced up she was already rolling to her side. That was lucky; the slightest of hesitations would have left her buried in the rockfall that turned her small hiding place into a giant mound of earth.

She hopped to her feet and took off again, that time darting into a tunnel and out of sight.

“This is becoming pitiful,” Slarrine called after her.

Buffy didn't respond, already busy scaling the surrounding walls. She'd had to leave her sword behind, so had tossed it along the tunnel for safe keeping, but it wasn't going to do her much good if she couldn't get into striking distance anyway. Stretching out, with her palms flat against one side of the tunnel and her soles pressing into the other, she inched up as fast as she could. First one hand, then the other, and then the same for her feet.

The pattern continued until a single slip saw her boot scraping a line of dirt from the wall, and she had to clamp her mouth shut to stop a gasp of shock from escaping. Her midsection sagged downward, and she was half a second away from plummeting right back to the ground. She pushed out harder with her remaining limbs, and that was enough to keep her held in place while she recovered. She allowed herself a quick, calming breath before carrying on.

She'd made it twelve feet up – almost the entire height of the tunnel – by the time Slarrine sauntered in. Another ball of magic sat nestled in her hand, likely ready to turn Buffy into a smouldering corpse, but she didn't think to look up. Had she, she might have been able to react before Buffy dropped down, grabbed her by the forearm, and forced her to slam her spell into her own face.

The outcome wasn't quite as Buffy had expected, the resulting explosion producing enough force to send the two of them flying in opposite directions. Buffy didn't stay in the air long, but the momentum kept her going long after she'd hit the ground. She skidded along, tumbling as she went, her hair and clothes picking up clumps of dirt. By the time she came to a stop her left cheek had cut open against the gritty ground, and she wiped away the small dribble of blood from her face.

Thinking it had to be over, Buffy was more than a little surprised to see Slarrine already back on her feet. Having only made it as far as sitting up herself, she stared up and groaned in disbelief.

“You can't win,” Slarrine stated matter-of-factly. “My own magic can't hurt me, and you won't get that close again.”

“Yeah?” Buffy shot back. “Well you forgot about one thing.”

“And what's that?”

Buffy eyed the sword lay a few metres away to her side, knowing she could be on top of it in a single lunge. “My magic.” She pulled the flash light from her pocket and arced it as high into the air as she could.

Slarrine tracked it with her hands as it spun through the air, and before it could begin to descend toward her a single word sent a bolt from her hands to the small, harmless object. The few fragments that survived the impact were sent flying in multiple directions.

Slarrine's amused smile didn't last long, transforming into a look of shock as she looked down. Half of Buffy's sword was protruding from her chest. An ever-growing river of blood crept down the side of the blade, covering up the shine of the metal with its deep, matte colour. Wordlessly she felt at her chest, her mouth still gaping open.

Buffy calmly walked forward and took the hilt of the sword in her hand. “FYI?” Slarrine looked at her silently, her eyes wide. “Magic might have been a bit of a stretch,” she admitted, “but hey, it got the job done.” She retrieved her sword with a single tug, and yet the demon still stood staring at her.

Better safe than sorry, Buffy told herself before removing Slarrine's head with a single slice. That most definitely did the trick, and the rest of the body crumpled to the floor.

Leaving the corpse to wither away of its own accord, Buffy gingerly made her way back to the previous room. She was still feeling the effects of the spell, but it wasn't serious enough to warrant concern.

“Thanks for the heads up,” she said as she approached the prisoner.

“Thanks for getting me out of here,” he replied. “I wasn't looking forward to spending the holidays down here.”

Buffy smiled and tugged at one of the ropes securing him in place, forcing the metal restraint out from where it had been secured into the wall. “So what's with the soldier getup?” she asked curiously. “Little late for Halloween, isn't it? Or is this some sort of frat party thing?” He looked about the right age for it, give or take a year or two, though she had the feeling there was more to it than that – he seemed far too calm given the situation.

“Right. Frat party. You know how it is.”

“Not really,” Buffy remarked before freeing his other arm just as easily. “You think you can find your way out?”

“I should be fine. Been down here a couple of times before.” Buffy raised a questioning eyebrow. “With my... frat brothers. Fraternising.”

“Because bars are so passé.” Given his flimsy cover story, she could safely rule out him being a spy. Whoever he was, he seemed harmless enough, and she had more pressing issues to deal with than figuring out how he'd gotten himself involved in the whole affair. However, she couldn't resist asking one thing. “You know, you seem awfully calm for someone who's just been abducted by a bunch of... well, let's just say it's not really something you see every day.”

“You've clearly never been to Iowa,” he joked.

Buffy watched him curiously for a few moments. “Thanks again,” she said before stepping out the way.

“You sure you couldn't use some backup?”

She smirked. “Backup from a frat boy?” she asked, a playful hint to her voice.

“Well I may have a small amount of experience with martial arts.”

“Is that so?” She briefly considered the offer before turning him down. With one demon already taken care of, things were off to a promising start, and it wasn't like she didn't already have the best backup she could hope for. “Get out of here. And keep your eyes peeled. Trust me, there's still plenty more creeps a creeping.”

Buffy had planned to follow him back the same way, but he'd barely stepped foot into the tunnel when she heard something from the other direction.

----------

Once Faith and Tarroth had both been disarmed, their fight had quickly devolved into a pure slugfest. Faith had the speed advantage that came with not being a Hulk impersonator, and she ducked and weaved to ensure she took less blows than her opponent; unfortunately, the hits that did land were leaving much more of a mark. Her left arm throbbed from where a cross-hook had landed full pelt, and the cut above her eye from their last fight, which had almost faded away altogether, had now been replaced by a new, fresh version.

All of that only served to to spur her on though, and she goaded the demon in before planting her heel into the back of his knee. The moment he dropped down she grabbed his head with both hands and drove it into the nearby wall. She raked it down over the rough surface for an enjoyable few seconds before he found the wherewithal to reach out and shove her to the floor.

She rolled over once before bouncing straight back up, ready for more. Blood was already trickling out from the various small cuts that littered his face, though it didn't seem to have phased him. His nostrils flared as he set his sights on her once again.

“Come on then. Let's end this,” Faith said. Her hard eyes were set on his, begging him to come at her.

Tarroth charged. Faith flicked her foot up into his head the moment he stepped into range, but he ran straight through it, knocking her leg aside and ramming his shoulder into her face. Her head snapped back with a harshness that guaranteed a serious case of whiplash come morning. What came later was the least of her worries though, and she grunted as a giant, balled fist jabbed at her kidney.

She growled in anger and threw back her own series of punches, some high, some low, all hitting their mark. The results were negligible. It seemed like the longer the fight went on, the less effect her attacks had on him.

He thrust his big, beefy head into hers, leaving her trying to blink away stars. Following up, he reared back his arm before throwing his fist out again. The wind up gave Faith time to prepare, and she ducked under his arm, jumped up on his back, and wrapped one arm tight around his throat while the other held on to his head. He didn't even try to pry away her grip, instead reaching back over his head, grabbing two big handfuls of hair, and yanking Faith straight up and over like it was the easiest thing in the world.

She landed back first, and wasn't given any time to recover before he was leant over, repaying the favour, his thick fingers constricting around her neck. She struggled to free herself with her hands, but to no avail. Her air supply remained cut off, and she switched to plan B, bringing her knee up into his head.

That proved more fruitful, and she felt his grip loosening. After another two shots he let go completely and stepped away. Faith rolled onto her front and pushed herself to her feet.

Tarroth was heading for his sword. She ran up behind him, jumped, and just as he was bending down to retrieve it she delivered a kick straight to his jutted out butt. He stumbled forward, arms flailing. His sword got left behind, and Faith scooped it from the floor.

She didn't afford him the opportunity to see the attack coming, driving the sword into his back. It didn't make it in much more than an inch, but he must have felt it because he straightened up and his loud gasp was difficult to miss. Faith didn't wait to see if that was enough. Her spinning kick landed straight on the end of the sword, sending it the rest of the way in.

He dropped to the floor and knelt there, snarling loudly. He slammed his knuckles into the floor, let out a roar of pure rage, and then reached behind his back to take hold of the sword.

Faith watched in awe as he began to pull it out. She was starting to wonder what it was going to take to finish him off. She glanced around, trying to lay eyes on her own axe, but just as she spotted it he suddenly went still. His arm dropped. A beat later he collapsed on to his side.

She waited. For the best part of a minute not a single thing happened, and then she breathed a sigh of relief and muttered, “About damned time.”

----------

Buffy was heading farther away from the rendezvous point when she next heard the noise. It was so quiet at first that she had to strain her ears to hear it, and she figured whatever was making it was still a tunnel or two away, but then in a single heartbeat it became too deafening for her to stand. It seemed to spawn from inside her, furiously buzzing around her head, high-pitched and painfully piercing. She almost lost her footing as the cave walls spun about every axis. She turned frantically, looking for something to stick her sword in, but she was alone. The volume continued to rise, the screeching reaching an unbearable level. Her sword dropped free to the floor as she planted her hands tight over her ears, but even that couldn't dilute the noise.

She dropped to her knees, holding her head in her hands as she bowed it toward the floor, trying to hide it away. The pounding obstructed her thoughts, and she wasn't sure if a grand piano dropping right on top of her head would have made things any worse.

And then it was gone. Just like that, everything was back to normal, her own breathes the only thing left disturbing the silence. Well not exactly everything – her dizziness remained, the only proof that she wasn't losing her mind. Cautiously she removed her hands from her ears, and when the silence still remained she forced her watering eyes open. In front of her were a pair of blurry legs, and she knew Faith hadn't been wearing the plain, brown slacks that covered much of them. The girl didn't usually have a whole lot in the way of green skin either, she thought. Still on her hands and knees, she reached out blindly to her side, hoping to get a hold of her sword, but it wasn't long before she found out exactly where it was.

She heard the rapid series of snaps as her ribs cracked apart, and a blistering pain overloaded her senses. Her fingers clawed at the ground, digging deeper even as small pieces of rock cut beneath her fingernails. Her cry sounded far louder in her head than the muted version that made it out through her mouth. Her arms and legs were rooted in place, frozen from shock and barely able to hold up the weight of her body.

She hesitantly looked down, not because she was feeling brave but because, for some inexplicable reason, it seemed like the right thing to do. The blade – her blade – was sticking proudly out her front, an inch wide of her sternum, and blood was freely flowing off the tip into a fast forming puddle beneath her. She didn't dare move, terrified of the possibility that she'd somehow manage to make things worse.

Staying put didn't work out any better. Without warning, the sword was ripped all the way back out, and Buffy screamed as another jolt of agony ricocheted through her chest. Her supporting elbows gave way entirely, her arms spreading out to the sides. She fell flat again the floor, the side of her face hitting against the cold, damp dirt.

It felt like her chest was locked in a vice grip, and her short gasps of breath weren't enough to gather the air she needed. She lay motionless, listening to the slowing thump of her heart, willing herself to remain conscious when it would have been far easier to simply fade away. Time seemed to have slowed to an agonizing crawl, cruelly taunting her while her insides burned away. It felt like the blood was trickling out from her wound in slow motion, and it melded with her sweater, sticking it tight against her skin. She wanted to pull it away, wanted to put an end to the sickening sensation of her own blood clamping against her body, but she couldn't even cobble together the strength for that.

Nassnia circled around her, trailing the bloodied sword through the dirt, and Buffy could only watch as a pair of leather shoes stopped right in front of her face. “It is fortunate for you that I have a portal to open, otherwise your suffering would have lasted far longer than this.”

Buffy struggled to make out the words. It sounded like she was wearing headphones. Her mind flashed back to the time she had faced The Master. She'd been unconscious as she'd drowned, none the wiser to the shallow pool of water that had slowly been killing her; the sharp prick as his fangs sunk into her neck was the last thing she could remember before waking to find Xander kneeling over her. It had been nothing like this; she could feel herself suffocating. Her lungs were screaming in agony, begging for one more mouthful of air to keep them going. It didn't seem to matter how deeply she sucked – the result was never enough, and trying too hard only choked out a feeble splutter.

She tried to get up, to get away, but managed only to roll on to her side. There was too much pain to block out, and her body was ready to throw in the towel, but she grit her teeth with enough force to make her gums ache as she focused on dragging her uncooperative hand in the direction of her jeans pocket. Maybe she still had one more chance, she told herself, her eyes never leaving the feet in front of her. She figured somewhere higher up would provide quicker results, but she was hardly in a position to be picky.

Her hand had slipped its way through the thin opening of her pocket when she felt the sharp point of cold steel begin to press through her hair into the side of her neck. She couldn't even edge away, her head already flush with the floor.

Her fingers felt swollen and weightless, like they were trapped in a fuzzy mitten three sizes too small. She couldn't tell where each one began and ended, and it took several attempts to convince them to wrap themselves around the syringe. Nassnia was slowly adding pressure to the blade, and Buffy's skin admitted defeat, letting it push through the first layer of her defence.

“You seem awfully quiet down there,” the demon mocked. “I hope you're staying with me, dear. There's still a way to go.”

The sword inched down again, and Buffy yelped in pain, her back and shoulders involuntarily tensing up. Every finger and toe squeezed just as tight, and she made out out the small, terrifying sound of the syringe cracking in her hand. Her eyes widened in horror as the cool liquid oozed down through her fingers, and with it the small, final remnants of her fight also drained away.

----------

The only thing waiting for Faith at the proposed meeting point was a boatload of fast-acting concern. She hadn't made quick work of the demon and yet Buffy was nowhere to be seen. It didn't mean anything, she quickly told herself before she had the chance to freak out. Whichever demon Buffy had gone after had gotten a head start; she would probably be back any second.

That thought was enough to settle her down for long enough to pace the length of the room a single time. “Screw it,” she muttered. She'd never been the type to see patience as a virtue, and it really wasn't the time for a change of heart. She looked down the two tunnels Buffy had chosen from, and the answer was obvious. She knew Buffy was a stickler for planning – she doubted the girl could even hit the mall without drawing up a ten step outline first, though she'd never risk saying as much to Buffy's face – and you couldn't plan for what you didn't know. Convinced Buffy would have gone with option gross-and-veiny, Faith headed after her.

It didn't take long before the green, veiny corpse let her know she'd made the right call, though she was still left wondering why Buffy hadn't returned after taking it out. Her fears started to murmur their unease, but she was quick to squash them down – she reasoned that a dead demon was about the best sign she could hope for, short of seeing Buffy herself.

It wasn't until she'd passed through several more tunnels that those fears came back ten-fold, and she ran into them like they were a brick wall. The sudden halt would have taken her from her feet if she hadn't been rooted to the spot in horror. “B?” she said, her voice coming out a whisper. “No.” Forcing her shock back, she sprinted across the room. Her legs were weak and unsteady, but they held together long enough to reach their destination.

Nassnia turned, but she couldn't react before Faith beheaded her in a single swipe. Strands of wispy, white hair fell away as the head was catapulted across the room. Not waiting to admire her handiwork, Faith dropped to her knees, skidding the final few inches to arrive at Buffy's side. “B? Buffy!”

Down on her back, Buffy lay eerily still, her only movement coming as her eyes rolled to the side to look at Faith. “Fai...” Her voice was faint and raw, and her dilated pupils stood out from the middle of her glazed over eyes.

“It's OK,” Faith promised, hoping to convince herself as much as Buffy. “I'm here. You're gonna be OK.” She put a hand on Buffy's side, ready to help her sit up, but she flinched back when she felt an unexpected wetness press against her hand. She stared at the back of it, scared to turn it around even though the substance smeared on the other side had an unmistakable feel to it.

“Oh God.” Buffy's black sweater had hidden it well, but now Faith could see every drop clearly. The material was completely soaked from top to bottom, the entirety of Buffy's front doused in a layer of blood.

“No, no, no, no!” Faith's voice rose with each utterance, but it never reached the same levels as the desperation inside of her that was screaming at her to do something. Anything.

She tried again, swallowing nervously as she placed one hand back on Buffy's side and squeezed the second behind her upper back. She tried to ignore the fact that her second hand now felt as damp as her first, though that proved an impossible feat. She started to slowly ease her up, but hesitated once again when she noticed Buffy's eyes were completely shut.

“Come on, B. Just stay with me,” Faith pleaded. There was no response. She shook her by the shoulders, softly at first before quickly becoming more forceful. “Buffy? Please. Come on!”

Again there was no response, and a feverish panic erupted inside her, clogging inside her throat as it shot up from the pit of her stomach. Her thoughts scattered, squeezing themselves into any deep, dark corner they could find. Her head felt light. The room was starting to spin, and the sight of Buffy's blood on her hands made her gag. She clamped the back of her hand against her mouth and forced herself to take several deep breaths.

Buffy's eyes were closed, her mouth frozen open. She didn't look peaceful or calm; she looked like she was still in pain. Like she was dying. Without thinking, Faith ran her hands back over her head, pulling at her roots. She was trying to rouse her thoughts into action but did nothing more than coat strands of her hair with the blood of the only person she'd ever loved.

Realizing what she'd done, she gagged even harder. There was nothing she could do to stop it that time; she twisted her neck to the side as the contents of her stomach forced their way free. She couldn't stop herself, continuing to retch until there was nothing left inside her. Still she carried on, dry heaving as tears ran freely down her face.

Her throat was raw by the time she had dragged together enough control to stop. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, partially clearing her vision, and she found herself looking straight at Buffy's neck.

She knew what she had to do next, no matter how desperately she didn't want to. She couldn't take losing Buffy. She just couldn't. Anything but that, she silently pleaded. Two fingers crept forward, inching their way toward Buffy's carotid artery. Faith's own pulse was excessively elevated, a fear like she had never encountered before keeping it hammering along. Her hesitant fingers hovered right next to Buffy's neck for several long moments, knowing that if there was no response then that was it. It was all over.

She closed her eyes, clamped her mouth shut tight, and held in a deep breath. Her index and middle fingers landed on Buffy's neck.

Nothing.

Her eyes shot open. She moved her fingers down a bit and pressed harder, leaving a pair of small, pinks marks on Buffy's skin. Still nothing. Down again. To the side. Pressed harder still.

She swallowed. Another pair of tears ran down her face. A small cry croaked from her throat.

But it was a cry wrapped in the slimmest thread of hope. She could breathe again, even if only a little. There was still a pulse. It was slow. It was shallow. But it was there, and that was something.

That something was all it took to jolt her into action, and she hoisted Buffy up, cradling the still, limp body in her arms with the kind of painstaking gentleness usually reserved for a newborn baby. She shifted Buffy's head to prop up against the inside of her arm, keeping it from hanging lifelessly to the ground. “Stay with me, B,” she whispered softly to Buffy. “I need you, OK? You have to stay with me.”

She was short on breath, her frantic emotions having taken their toll, but it didn't stop her from sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her; if she couldn't save Buffy then she'd damn well die trying.

She hadn't gotten far before her route was blocked. She recognised Jacob from their brief encounter, though neither one of his two wingmen.

“Ouch, well she's looking a little--” Jacob began.

There was no warning. No holding back. Pure adrenaline was all Faith had left, and it fuelled a single fierce kick straight through Jacob's chest. She heard bones break, and she saw him fly back into the wall, his head cracking against it before he dropped to the floor in a heap of still, muddled limbs. She didn't even blink. The lackeys quickly backed off, one of them stumbling over the hem of his robe as he scurried to get out of her way.

Paying none of them another thought, she bounded straight for the sewers. She hit them fast and kept going, splashing water into the air as she tore through a long, deep puddle. Four tunnels and as many turns later and she was finally forced to pause.

“Shit.” She looked left and right but couldn't remember which way they had come. She desperately wished she'd paid more attention on the way in. She wished she hadn't suggested they split up. She wished she could start the day over and try again. But it was too late for any of that, so she did the only thing she could: she took a wild guess and kept going.

Twists and turns constantly thwarted her efforts to find a way out, and she had to waste far too much time doubling back after she reached a complete dead end. Time she couldn't afford. Time Buffy couldn't afford.

Once she had finally found a ladder leading to the surface, getting to the top proved awkward. After delicately readjusting Buffy over her shoulder, she was left to climb with only one hand while the other was protectively wrapped around Buffy's back, securing her in place. She hastily grabbed from one bar to the next before gravity could send the two of them crashing back down.

They reached the top, and Faith wrapped her arm around the side of the ladder, locking herself in place while she pushed the metal grate above out of their way.

Finally back on higher ground, Faith didn't need long to study her surroundings. A row of run-down shops, two of which had remained boarded up ever since she'd first arrived in Sunnydale, were enough for her to gain her bearings.

She knew they still had a way to go. Even at a run, the hospital was still at least a quarter of an hour away. Her shoulders were starting to stiffen, but she shrugged it off; she'd run to every corner of the world if that's what it took.

But as she cradled Buffy in her arms once more, she caught sight of Buffy's still, vacant face. She noticed how blue her lips looked against her ghostly pale face. She noticed how those same slightly parted lips were as lifeless as her motionless, blood-stained chest.

And Faith knew, she just knew, that she was already too late.

Faith was standing outside, alone, nestled around the back of a large building that hid her safely away from the traffic of people coming and going. Small flakes of snow were falling around her, much like they had done all morning, though the temperature had only recently dipped enough to allow them to settle. Her leather jacket was already wrapped tight around her body. At first the bitter cold had fought its way through, but as she'd sat and watched the world light up around her she'd become numb to its efforts.

Going back inside wasn't an option. She'd managed to spend most of the night in there with the others, and in all that time she couldn't shake the feeling that accusing stares were being thrown her way whenever she closed her eyes or looked away. Maybe it was all in her head, or maybe she was getting what she deserved, but either way she didn't need anybody's help to lay on the guilt – she was doing fine with that on her own. Eventually she couldn't take anymore of it, and she'd stood up, turned for the nearest exit, and stormed out fast enough that nobody had gotten the chance to question where she'd been going.

She preferred it when her mind was blank. It was better that way. Easier to deal with. There were times when that happened, where she managed to zone out completely and, for a few precious moments, cease to exist. They never lasted long, and reality was always waiting to welcome her back with one hell of a sucker punch, but the fleeting moments of peace were the only thing keeping her straddling the line of sanity.

It wasn't currently one of those times. Her see-sawing emotions were rapidly stirring up again, a volatile concoction of anger, grief, self-pity, hate – all of it, each one wanting its own turn on top. Stalking the length of the building didn't calm her in the slightest. Nor did clenching and unclenching her fingers help to squeeze out any of the agitation trapped deep beneath her skin. She wished the demons were still alive; killing something might have helped.

In the end she let out a wild, frustrated cry as she turned and drove her first hard into the brick wall. It barely grazed her knuckles and did even less to soothe her anger. So she tried again. And again. She threw her entire weight behind it, pounding the wall harder and faster with each iteration until her skin peeled away and blood ran from her hand like the tears from her eyes.

Exhausted, and not from the punches, her attacks petered out to little more than feeble pats as she slowly sunk to her knees. Her head was aching more than her fist, and she pressed it against the wall to try and alleviate some of the pain. Time passed by as she knelt in place, perfectly still in her own little world. She didn't know how much of it, and she didn't care.

The piercing wail of an ambulance startled her from her stupor, and for the briefest of moments she thought it was coming to save Buffy. That was a stupid notion though, and her memories quickly returned. How she'd kicked open the hospital doors, screaming for help as if she'd been the one dying. How doctors, nurses and even security had quickly crowded around her as she'd pleaded for any of them to do something. How they'd had to peel away her protective, uncooperative hands before they could wheel Buffy out of sight.

Remaining in one pose had left her stiff. She curled around to a sitting position and gripped her knees tight to her chest. She stretched out her neck in a full circle, trying to loosen it up. During the third rotation she caught sight of Giles as he was walking by. Instantly averting her eyes didn't save her from being spotted, and she waited, watching his black shoes leave their mark in the thin, dusty layer of snow as he approached.

“You're going to catch a cold if you stay out here,” he said.

Faith didn't respond. She didn't even look his way, instead staring across at the meshed, metal fence that separated them from the rest of the world. A world oblivious to what had happened, Faith thought. Her brow furrowed. Joyce. Had anyone even told her, she wondered. Joyce had been away the previous night, but she'd have been home by now – but Faith knew she couldn't be the one to do it. What could she possibly say? How could she ever step foot inside that house again?

Giles's voice softened. “Perhaps you should go home and change. O-or take a shower. It might not hurt to try and get some rest either.”

Faith looked down. Her jacket was stained with patches of dried blood, all the way from the hem right up to the ends of her sleeves, and her jeans hadn't faired much better. She'd washed her hands and done the best she could to remove the blood from her hair with nothing more than luke-warm tap water and some hand wash from the hospital restroom. It had worked to a degree, though on close inspection her dark hair didn't do enough to hide the remaining blood. The worst thing was that she could still feel it, even when her hands were nowhere near. She doubted that feeling would ever wash away. “I'm fine,” she said plainly, knowing full well that nobody on the planet could take one look at her and believe that.

“How about some company then? To be honest I could use the fresh air. I suppose you weren't around to notice it, but it was starting to feel a tad dry in there.”

Faith wanted to be alone. Only she didn't, not really. She wanted to be with Buffy. She wanted Buffy to be with her. One more chance; that's all she needed. She'd do better. She'd keep Buffy safe. Forever.

“Faith?” There was worry creeping into his voice now. Like she was one the one that needed it, Faith thought bitterly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Agitated, Faith's head shot up – what part of her could possibly feel alright about any of it? She was ready to let loose with her anger, but it froze in place when she saw the state he was in. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a windswept mess. He had huge, hanging bags under his eyes, just like everyone else had by the time morning had rolled around. He obviously hadn't thought to grab his jacket on the way there, and while his hands had found shelter deep in his trouser pockets, his arms, bare but for the thin material of his creased shirt, were visibly shivering as a result. “I killed her,” Faith said flatly. She hadn't even been thinking those words at the time, but they were the ones that crept out anyway.

“Nonsense,” Giles scolded, his harshness taking Faith by surprise and causing her to flinch away, pressing her back further into the wall and curling her shoulders inward. “I don't doubt for one moment that you did everything in your power to help her, Faith. None of us do.”

“Yeah? Fat lot of good that did her,” Faith spat, glaring straight ahead. She lifted her arm and reared to the side as if to throw something, but her hand was empty. It fell uselessly back into her lap, and her neck slackened, dropping her head. “I should never have come to this stupid, fucking place.”

“Shouldn't you?” Giles challenged. He carefully lowered himself down next to her before removing his glasses and letting them dangle from his hand. Faith watched them from the corner of her eye, glad to have something to focus on.”It isn't over yet, Faith, but if you hadn't been there then it certainly would be. You may very well have saved her life.”

Faith's disbelief formed an audible smirk. “You weren't there. You didn't see what...” She bit down on her knuckles, trying to keep herself together, and her teeth left behind a pair of small, red marks. “It's too late, Giles. I was too late.”

“That's not what the doctors said. There's still--”

“No!” Faith cut in angrily, her head snapping his way. What was so hard to understand, she wondered. “They didn't say anything! No 'don't worry'. No 'she'll be fine'. Nothing! What the hell do you think that means?”

Giles leant his head back against the wall and frowned. He chewed on the frame of his glasses for several moments before speaking slowly and with conviction. “It means we have to believe that Buffy is strong enough to pull through this. I've seen her do so many amazing things since arriving in Sunnydale, and I don't know about you, but I truly think that if anyone can pull through this then she's the one.”

Faith looked him straight in the eye. “If you're so sure then why've you been crying?”

Giles let out a small, quiet laugh and looked to his other side. “I dare say the same reason as you, Faith. Even just the very idea of losing someone we care about is – well it's heart wrenching. Naturally, the first thing we do is blame ourselves. And it never matters how much we got right; we'll always wonder what we could have done differently. Done better.”

It was Faith's turn to look away, and her gaze landed in her lap. Her hands were both sat there, shaking now as they anxiously fiddled with each other. “And what if we already know?” she asked quietly.

There was no immediate answer to that, and they sat in silence for a short while before she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder. It took her by surprise. She flinched, and her body clamped up at first, but after a few moments she managed to relax.

“Then I suppose we have to hope for another chance to make things right,” Giles said.

Faith let that sink in and then dropped her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes as more tears slipped down her face. The problem was she couldn't let herself have hope. That would be just one more thing that could be cruelly torn away from her. All that was left to do was wait.

----------

Quentin Travers' short walk from his office to the main meeting room of the Watcher's Council headquarters had been different than usual. His peers had shot him odd looks he couldn't quite decipher, and hushed conversations had stopped mid-word as he had passed by.

Usually he'd have been the one to call such a meeting, but he'd only been informed of this one moments earlier. It was clear to him that he'd been purposefully left out of the loop on something, and as soon as he entered the room his suspicions were confirmed. The remaining seven directors were already lined up in front of him, only one seat at the far end of the posh, oak table remaining free.

“You appear to be in my seat, Rodgers,” Quentin calmly pointed out.

“That's why I have called this meeting,” said Rodgers, who sat at the centre of the group alongside a woman of a similar age to Quentin. He had short, light-brown hair that was combed straight back over his head. It looked more wet than slick, suggesting a gross over-application of hair product. There wasn't a grey strand in sight, making it apparent that he was a good deal younger than Quentin. There was an arrogance not only to the way he spoke but even in the way he sat – leant back in his chair, his head resting against the high back and his arms loosely resting on those of his chair. “Several members of the council have become... troubled over your recent actions.”

“I see,” Quentin said with a feigned interest. “For a minute there I suspected this was nothing more than a foolish power play.”

Rodgers ignored him. “It has become apparent that your interactions with Faith Lehane have seriously clouded your judgement. Your dealings with Ethan Rayne – whom, may I point out, you yourself previously classified as a known threat – lead almost not only to the death of both active Slayers, but indeed risked the lives of each and every one of us sat here today.”

“And yet here we both are, healthy as a horse. Unfortunate as that may be in some cases,” Quentin remarked dryly. Once again his comments went unmentioned.

“It is therefore my recommendation – and my colleagues are in full agreement – that you step down from your post, effective immediately.”

A small smile crept onto Quentin's face. “You would do well to remember who handed you a seat at this table in the first place,” he warned as he took a single step forward and slowly ran his eyes along the row. “Each and every one of you are here today only because I took the crumbling remains of the previous council and dragged them kicking and screaming into a new era. My era. This is my council.” His eyes made his way back to Rodgers. “Now I strongly suggest you remove yourself from my seat. That is, if you would prefer to keep your job.”

The woman sat besides Rodgers spoke up next. “We all appreciate the work you have done here, Quentin, but the simple truth is that it has become time for you to move on. Go. Enjoy your retirement. We will take good care of the place in your absence, and I am fully confident that the world will continue to turn without your continued efforts.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Margaret, but I recall that that you are every bit as weathered as I am. A year older perhaps, if I'm not mistaken.”

“This is irrelevant,” Rodgers butted in. He got to his feet and leant over the table, supporting himself on one arm. “The votes have been cast, the outcome decided, and all staff notified. You can leave here now of your own volition, with your belongings and our thanks for your years of dedicated service, or I can have security drag you from the building. Ask yourself how you wish to be remembered.”

Quentin's lips curled into a sneer, but he said nothing. He turned and marched from the room, slamming one half of the the large double doors shut behind him.

Furious and humiliated, Quentin ground his teeth all the way back to his office. A recent picture of him and his wife hung on one wall, an old black and white photo of his now deceased parents on another. A corner table housed many of his personal possessions, including a Her Majesty's Reserve cigar mounted on a small, wooden stand – he didn't smoke himself, but it had been a gift from his silver wedding anniversary. A double bookcase stood tall at one side of the room, collecting together numerous books on demonology and the black arts along with a number of diaries from watchers past and present.

The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a desk table and a single chair. The table contained a small pot with a number of pens and pencils inside, and a simple, black telephone, along with an ageing computer that had served his basic needs well over the past few years. Underneath sat a number of drawers, and Quentin slowly pulled the top one out and set it down on top of the desk. His hands remained clasped on each side, and he stood for several moments, staring down at the thick stack of papers held inside.

In one sudden motion he picked up the drawer, turned to his side, and threw it at the wall with all the rage that was swimming around inside him. While it survived the impact, but for a few scratches to the woodwork, the papers burst free into the air. Those bundled together by paperclips dropped fast, making an audible smack against the wooden floor, whilst the individual sheets slithered back and forth, each one slow to ease its way down. Soon the floor was coated by the spread of bank statements, legal documents and other miscellaneous paperwork. Some parts of it dated back over a decade; others were as recent as the previous week.

There was one sheet in particular that grabbed his attention. It had been presented to him a little under a year ago, and he had stored it away without giving it much more than a single glance. He hadn't felt that the threat it discussed fell entirely under the remit of the council, and as follow-up information had been provided his stance on the matter hadn't shifted.

But now he wasn't thinking about the potential problems the group could cause if left to their own devices. He was thinking about the potential solutions they could provide with the right amount of incentive. He gingerly bent his knees until he could reach the single sheet. Staying crouched, he meticulously folded it, first in half and then in quarters, before slipping it into the front pocket of his shirt.

Next he moved to the computer and sat down in his chair for what he was beginning to believe might not be the last time after all. He keyed in his password and his mouse icon froze before morphing into an hour glass. White, pixelated sand ran from top to bottom before the cursor spun around and started the process again. He quickly lost count of the number of times that repeated, and he found himself tapping a single finger against the desk in anticipation. He'd fully expected his access to have already been revoked, but he smiled to himself when his desktop finally popped up. “Oh, Rodgers, you backstabbing fool.”

Within a matter of minutes he had transferred funds from the council to his personal bank account. He didn't take it all – after all, he planned to be back far sooner than any one of them expected. He was, however, two million pounds richer than he had been moments ago. It would be more than enough for his needs, he decided; after all, he had something else that would sweeten the pot.

He picked up the handset from the old-fashioned phone – complete with rotary dial – and held it to his face as he dialled the memorized number. It rang fourteen times before there was an answer, and he was instantly greeted by the hurried attempts of Ethan Rayne trying to excuse himself of any responsibility for anything whatsoever.

“I am well aware of the situation,” Quentin said loudly, cutting Ethan off. “That's why I called. Pack your things – you and I have a small business trip to attend.”

Ethan wanted to know where and why, the worry in his voice obvious even over the phone.

“Relax, Ethan. Our arrangement still stands,” Quentin assured him. “It is simply time we looked at bringing in a third party to help with the proceedings, and as it happens, I have just the people in mind. I'll meet you first thing tomorrow and we can discuss it further.”

“In Sunnydale?” Ethan asked.

“No.” Quentin sunk back into his chair, and a series of mouse clicks brought up a plane ticket booking website. “We're going to the City of Angels.”

----------

Sometimes seeing is believing, but other times even that is not enough. Faith couldn't be sure that she hadn't taken Giles's advice and gone home to bed, and that what she was looking at wasn't some twisted nightmare, teasing her with images of something she'd never really get to see again. Or that she wasn't still sat outside the hospital, having finally lost her mind entirely.

“You know it's not polite to gawk at sick people, right?” Buffy teased, her voice hoarse to the point where it was almost unrecognisable.

It took Faith a while to convince her mouth to close. “Sorry,” she murmured, still standing at the doorway of the hospital care room.

The entire day had crawled past at a distressingly slow pace and it was now well into the evening. The sun had gone and the hospital lighting was dim, giving the room a slightly unsettling edge. Buffy was laid flat in bed, her head raised by a single, thin pillow. Her arms were lax by her side, and the bed covers were folded back at her waist. A number of tubes stuck out of her far arm, leading to a device that did something Faith had no clue about. A large plaster wrapped around the side of her neck, and Faith suspected there would be plenty more of the same under Buffy's hospital gown. Her hair had been collected into a ponytail, putting the entirety of her pale face on display, and even from a distance Faith could see that Buffy's eyes were still bloodshot.

“I'm not contagious either,” Buffy said, offering up a reassuring smile. “Or if I am then nobody thought to mention it.”

Remembering that the doctor had urged the group to keep their visits short, Faith forced her reluctant legs forward. He'd also insisted that they didn't all crowd in at once, taking extra care to note that it was important Buffy got plenty of rest. Joyce had been the first to enter, and after an excruciatingly long five minutes she'd also been the one to specifically send Faith in next, despite the rest of the group also being ready on their feet.

Faith's fingers lightly wrapped around Buffy's wrist, making sure she was really there. Buffy was fixing her with a curious look, but Faith didn't care.

She had spent the last twenty four hours wanting nothing more than this moment. Now that it was happening, she had no idea what to do with it, and she ended up blurting out the most inane thing she could imagine. “How are you?”

“I've been better,” Buffy admitted. “They want to keep me in for more surgery. Something about there being a risk of my ribs lacerating a lung, which I guess would kind of suck. But give me a couple of weeks and I should be kicking bad guy ass like it's nobody's business.” She frowned briefly. “Or something like that anyway. How about you?”

Faith's brow furrowed. She ignored the question and was far too concerned about this new notion of surgery for Buffy's optimism to lift her spirits. “But it's not dangerous, right? I mean nothing can go wrong?”

“Hey, don't worry.” Buffy gently pulled her wrist free before taking Faith's fingers in her hand. “If I can survive a sword through the chest then I'm pretty sure a couple of fingers poking around isn't going to kill me. OK?”

Faith nodded, unconvinced. She couldn't wait for them to get home; it felt as if Buffy being there in hospital was somehow a danger in itself.

“What happened to your hand?” Buffy asked.

Faith was still in a bit of a daze, and it took her a moment to realize that Buffy was no longer looking back at her. She followed Buffy's line of sight down to where their hands met. The result of her earlier breakdown had been long forgotten by the time Giles had persuaded her to return to the hospital, and the back of her hand was still coated in blood from where she'd done a number on the wall outside. She pulled it free and shoved it in her pocket before Buffy could get a better look at it. “Souvenir from the fight with the demon,” she lied.

Buffy hesitated and pursed her lips. “Faith, is something wrong? You seem... I don't know. But if it's because there's an army of demons out there conquering the world right now and we only have three minutes left to live, you can tell me.”

“It's not that. I'm pretty sure we won't be worrying about any of them again. It's just... I'm glad you're OK is all. And I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner.” Faith shook her head. “I know if I'd been a few--”

“Whoa! No, don't even go there,” Buffy cut in. “If anyone owes an apology here, it's me. If I'd bothered to stick to the plan then I could be sat at home gorging on tater tots right about now instead of wondering just how bad a government issue Christmas dinner could taste. And in case you're forgetting, you also saved my life. Again.” She paused for a beat before coyly adding, “Keep it up and I might start to get the impression you like me.”

Buffy quietened, and a sad smile briefly played over her face before she sucked in her bottom lip and let out a short breath. “I thought that was it, you know. End of the line for the S.S. Buffy. And all I could think was that I was never going to get the chance to say a proper goodbye.”

Finally, Faith managed a smile of her own. That one simple action proved to be all it took to cut loose the the ball and chain of emotions that had been weighing her down. It wasn't because Buffy had rescinded her of any blame, but because Buffy was right – she had saved Buffy's life. For the first time it had fully sunk in: Buffy was alive.

Her five minutes were probably long up, but Faith wasn't ready to tear herself away quite yet, and she figured a little longer couldn't hurt. “So you're stuck in here over Christmas?”

“Looks that way. Normally I'd say they'd have to Slayer-proof the entire building to keep me here, but I haven't even made it as far as sitting up yet so I'm not sure making a run for it would be beneficial to my health.”

“Well we'll have to have Christmas dinner here then. You, me, your mom. The gang.”

“I'm not saying you can't all come over and keep me company, but this is a hotel room, Faith, not a five star suite complete with built-in kitchen and Bakeshop Barbie.”

“Then we'll grab a couple of those disposable barbecues and sneak them in.”

“You can't barbecue the ham,” Buffy immediately objected.

“Says who?”

“Says... everyone. It's like a rule or something. I've read about it.” Buffy pouted her lips, looking like she'd just been told for the first time that Santa Claus wasn't real.

Suddenly Faith was grinning like a maniac, and Buffy's raised eyebrows suggested she had no idea why. That didn't stop Faith from starting to giggle, and then she had to perch down on the edge of the bed after she broke down into a fit of full-on, uncontrollable laughter. She wasn't too sure why herself, but she couldn't even consider stopping until she was doubled over, clutching her stomach, short on breath and with watering eyes.

Once she'd finally regained control, she found that Buffy's motionless face was still staring at her like she'd sprouted fangs, horns, and a second head to boot. For a moment Faith thought she was going to go off on a second round, but with a deep breath and clenched jaw she managed to stay in control.

“Has anyone ever told you you're kind of a spaz?” Buffy asked in amusement.

Faith wiped her eyes before leaning down over the bed and closing them. She pressed her lips to Buffy's forehead, letting them linger in place for several moments, taking in the warmth from Buffy's skin. “I love you, B,” she whispered sincerely.

She sat back up and noticed the soft flush of Buffy's cheeks, standing out more than it usually would against the rest of her pale face. Buffy's smile was big enough to show off her teeth, and her eyes were cast toward the end of her bed before they flicked Faith's way.

“Umm, that reminds me,” Buffy began shyly, the left side of her lips curling upward a little more. “I've been meaning to ask... and I realize it's kind of low key after everything that's happened recently... but once I get out of here, how would you feel about coffee?”

If the grin from Faith's face had actually left then it would have come flying back fast enough to give her jaw ache. She'd never even considered trying the stuff before, but, oddly enough, now she couldn't wait to. “It's a date.”