DEBRIDEMENT

Her words seem to hang endlessly between them. Just tell me how to make it better. Like there's any way to make it better. Maybe there was time when something could have fixed all this, back when the worst thing Faith had done was ram her stake into the Deputy Mayor's heart and come a little apart trying to handle it. Too much hangs between them now, enough that murder has become the least objectionable of Faith's offenses.

Buffy wants to laugh in Faith's face. Just look right into those pleading, broken brown eyes and laugh. The rage running through her heart is so overpowering that she doesn't even know her next move. For the second time in her life, she feels like she could actually kill another person. But when the door to the roof flies open, revealing one of the council's team pointing a machine gun, she finds herself lunging for the girl she wanted to kill a moment ago, knocking Faith to safety.

Faith's fingers cling to her jacket as they fall and Buffy rolls them behind a skylight. As they both climb to a crouch, their eyes meet. Faith looks for the fury that was there a moment ago but it's gone. It's just Buffy, calculating and strong, and she says, "I think we can make it to the other building."

Faith doesn't need to look, she'll follow the other slayer wherever she leads. "Go."

Buffy nods, bounces on the balls of her feet, and shouts, "Now!"

They leap to their feet, perfectly synchronized, and Faith chases the tendrils of blonde hair bouncing in front of her. Before they can make it to the edge of the roof, a helicopter appears, with another of the council's wet works team leveling a machine gun at them. As one, they turn and run back to the skylight. The other man is striding toward them, reloading as he advances so Faith follows Buffy again, darting for another hiding place.

Everything's happening so fast. Buffy doesn't have time to examine her change of heart. She knows how far the council is willing to go; she's been in Faith's body, in their custody. Suddenly the only priority is getting the other slayer out alive. Footsteps are getting closer and Buffy looks into Faith's already defeated face. "I have to take this guy out. The guy with the gun up there will go for me. You stay here."

"Okay." Faith hunches behind the skylight as Buffy moves into the open and begins to grapple with the assassin. She thinks about running. Angel's trying to help her and maybe he even thinks he can. But what he doesn't get when he says this isn't about Buffy is that, for Faith, it always is. Buffy's the slayer, the original one girl in all the world; she's what Faith wanted to be, what Faith wanted to have. She's the angel of Faith's better nature even as she's the catalyst for her destruction. How can it not be about her, when one look from Buffy could send her spinning over the edge into the darkness? So Faith doesn't run. She's got nothing to run to.

The skylight behind her shatters as Angel comes soaring through it, wrapping his hands around the left wrung of the chopper. The man with the gun is yanked out and he lands with a painful thud on the roof, only a few feet away from where she's crouched. The sounds of police sirens reach her ears, even over the noise of the helicopter. Standing on the wrung, Angel looks down at Buffy. "She deserves a chance to make it right."

Angry, she shakes her head but grits her teeth and says, "Faith, let's go." Buffy doesn't wait to see if she's following, she just jumps, catching Angel's outstretched palm and letting him yank her into the helicopter.

Listening to the sound of the sirens drawing closer, she hesitates. She knows she doesn't deserve this chance and that if she goes, she's putting Buffy and Angel both in danger. The cops want her and so does the council. It's only a matter of time before her number's up. The only question is whether she's gonna bring them down with her.

"Faith!" Angel shouts, extending his hand toward her. "Come on!" Buffy's face pokes back out of the chopper and the instant Faith sees her, she runs for the helicopter. If it means she's got the chance to fix anything with Buffy, she'll go. Angel pulls her up and she slides into the seat next to Buffy, who's obviously threatened the council's pilot since the chopper glides away from the building, cutting through the night sky.

Angel's broad shoulders crush against hers and she's sandwiched between the two former lovers. Buffy shifts uncomfortably as their arms and legs press together but she makes no attempt to punch Faith's face in, so this is already an improvement over most of their interactions. She hunches back in the seat, trying to take up as little room as possible as her companions shout plans back and forth.

"We gotta put this down somewhere before they catch on and follow us."

Buffy glares at him. "Oh, because that would be terrible, for the cops to catch a wanted murderer."

"Buffy," Angel growls back. "I understand how you feel—"

"Like hell you do!"

He continues as if he hasn't been interrupted, "You got on this chopper, Buffy. Now, are you gonna follow this through and help her or not? Because if not, I can let you out here and you can go back to Sunnydale."

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you? While you two ride off into the sunset?"

"Grow up."

"Screw you."

Angel sighs and reaches over to touch Buffy's hand. She looks up sharply, her eyes all daggers and hurt. "Can you do this?"

Buffy glances at Faith, who looks at her lap. "Yes," She says. "Yes, okay?"

"Okay," Angel looks forward, fixing his eyes on the pilot. "Set her down. Just look for a flat roof."

XXXXX

Angel heads for the sewers, needing to get back to his crew and deal with the police, leaving Buffy and Faith on their own. They check into a fleabag motel that makes the Sunnydale Motor Inn look like the Hyatt with most of the cash Angel, Buffy, and the pilot had in their pockets. When they get to their room, Buffy immediately marches toward the phone, leaving Faith to close and lock the door. "It's me," She says, cradling the phone against her shoulder. "I'm in a motel in L.A." Sitting down, she pulls the phone close, trying to talk softly even though Faith can hear every word. "She was there… no, she's with me now." Buffy looks up, watching Faith leaning against the door. "It's a long story, Giles. Can you just meet me tomorrow?"

Faith watches as Buffy finishes her call and sets the receiver down with a sigh. "You gonna stand over there all night?" She snaps.

Kicking off the door, Faith walks to the other side of the bed and sits down, leaning to remove her boots. Rustling noises sound from the other side of the bed as Buffy pulls back the sheets and slides in. When Faith lays carefully on her side, it feels like every moment passing in the darkness is an eternity. She doesn't know what to say when her apologies are meaningless and Buffy's lying beside her radiating anger. When the other slayer finally speaks, her voice is deceptively gentle. "There's nothing you can do to make it better. Not now. Not ever."

XXXXX

Buffy goes out the next morning, without so much as an admonition about staying put. Truthfully, she doesn't think she cares if the other slayer disappears. She's been wondering since last night how she ended up laying in a bed with the person who's done more to hurt her than anyone else ever has. Why is she helping Faith? Part of it's because Angel asked her to. He believes in Faith. He believes in Buffy even, that she will help the lost slayer find her way back to the right side. Buffy's not sure that he's right to trust her, since all she wants to do is punch Faith's stupid sad face every time she looks at her.

But for better or worse, she's jumped into this disaster with both feet, taking a wanted murderer on the run and now going to strategize how to keep her safe. What a joke. As though anyone is safe with Faith around.

She meets Giles in a diner she knows from her summer in L.A. He gives her an understanding look when she slides into the booth across from him, still wearing the clothes from yesterday and having one of her worst hair days in recent memory. Buffy fills him in on what's happened and it if comes out as muddled and confused as she feels, Giles doesn't say anything about it.

"So, what do you want to do?" He asks in his gentle Giles way. Buffy loves this about him, the way he doesn't tell her what to do, just supports the decisions she makes.

"I don't know." And she really doesn't. It had all seemed so simple the day before. But now with the council involved, things had gotten more complicated.

Giles nods like this makes perfect sense. "Do you think Faith can be redeemed?"

It's on the tip of her tongue to say no, no of course not but Buffy finds herself shaking her head slowly. "I'm not sure." After a moment she asks, "Do you?"

"There was a time when I thought we could get through to her, before Wesley…" He trails off and pulls out his hanky. "I'm afraid I don't know."

Sighing, Buffy picks at the sandwich in front of her. "This is a mess."

Cleaning his glasses, Giles gives her a rueful smile. "Buffy," He pauses, like he isn't sure how to say what he's thinking. "To be frank, I think if Faith is sincere about embracing her calling again… the only way she stands a chance is if she's with you."

"What, you mean from the council?"

"Well, yes, that." Giles looks at her so intently that she actually struggles not to look away. "But surely you realize that there is a connection between the two of you."

Buffy scoffs, "I have no connection to that psychopath."

"You've told me about the dream you had with her. She gave you the key to defeating the Mayor. And even after she woke up, she came immediately for you."

"That just means she wants to kill me, Giles."

"I'm not convinced it's as simple as that. And if Faith's going to have a real chance at changing, she's going to need you in her corner."

"I was." Buffy insists vehemently. "Giles, I did everything I could to help her. I don't think I have anything left for her. Not after what's she done."

"Then I suppose we have our answer." He stirs his tea casually, allowing Buffy a moment to process his words.

It would be such a relief, to just turn Faith in to the police. They'd lock her away and Buffy would never have to worry about her again. Still, Giles's words dig at her. Had she tried everything she could to help Faith when she'd had the chance? It had been so difficult, trying to hold on to Faith even as the other slayer descended further and further from her reach. She's not going to lie to herself and say she's never wondered if she'd done something differently, just tried one more time, just said one thing differently, if maybe Faith could have been helped. Maybe a part of her still wonders, but it's buried under so much pain and anger. "What should I do?" She asks helplessly, looking back across the table.

"I can't tell you, Buffy."

"But I'm not sure."

"Then perhaps it's best to call Angel and ask him to take her off your hands." Giles takes out his wallet, pulling out enough bills to cover their check. "I don't think this is something you can begin unless you're absolutely positive about it. If you were to push her farther away… well, I think we both know what the consequences could be."

Buffy nods. She knows all too well what those consequences could be.

XXXXX

When she shoves open the door, carrying a takeout bag with grilled cheese and a double order of French fries, Faith is sitting on the bed, tying her boots up. She stands immediately, her coiled muscles rolling under her skin as she shifts under Buffy's critical eyes.

"Going somewhere?" Buffy asks icily.

Faith sighs. She's determined not to let this end up in a fistfight. She knows it was wrong of her to come here in the first place. Buffy doesn't want to help her, doesn't even think she can change. So there's nothing to do now but go. "Better for both of us if I do."

Buffy's laugh is hard. It's nothing like the amused, soft snorts she used to make when Faith said something dirty or Giles got embarrassed about something. "So that's it then? You're just gonna run away?" She flings the bag of food onto the bed, obviously getting ready for a fight.

"I've got no reason to stay!" Faith tries to tell her. "Look, B. I know I ruined everything. I get that, okay? I get it. There's nothing I can ever do to fix what I did."

Buffy stares back, her face tense and unreadable.

Faith moves to the door cautiously, hoping the blonde isn't going to jump her. "I'll turn myself in to the cops. Maybe… I don't know. Might as well try jail. Not like I've got anything left to lose." She puts her hand on the doorknob and turns it, still tensed for the attack she's expecting from Buffy.

Buffy doesn't hit her, but what she says stops Faith dead in her tracks and somehow hurts more than any punch could have. "You've got me."

Feeling her lungs squeeze painfully, Faith looks into her face. "What?"

"I said you have me." She doesn't move, doesn't even smile. "You say you wanna change, Faith? Stay. Prove it."

"You don't mean that."

Buffy bristles, catches herself, and says, "I mean it."

"Why?" Faith finds her fingers have released the knob and the door stands ajar as she turns toward Buffy, desperate to believe her words even as they sound too good to be true.

She's silent for a long moment. When Buffy finally speaks, she looks at the wall behind the other slayer. "Do you remember the night you came for the box of Gavrok?"

Faith gives her a barely perceptible nod.

"Before you left, you looked at me like… like you wanted me to say something."

"Wouldn't have helped." Faith shrugs, trying to let her off the hook.

"But I didn't try. I could have tried."

"You don't owe me nothing, Buffy."

The blonde crosses the few small steps between them and pushes the door closed, sealing them both back inside. "Maybe not… but you owe me something." She crosses her arms as she finally looks at the other slayer once more. "This is how you start, Faith. Tell me you're not going to run. Give me a reason to believe in you."

Her throat feels tight. "I'll stay." Faith's features twist pleadingly. "Whatever you want me to do, B. I'm so sor—"

Buffy's palm is up, warding off her words before she can finish. "Don't." She says softly. "Not yet, okay? Just… not yet."

XXXXX

They begin patrolling at night. It's probably not the smartest option since Faith's face is plastered over the news at least once per night, but it's this or go crazy trapped in the motel together. They still hardly speak during the day. But at night, they fall together seamlessly, the way they always have when they're slaying. It's like the slayer line connects their bodies, each movement of Buffy's mirrored by Faith's and vice versa. The blonde still prides herself on punning and Faith smiles, listening to her cheerful chirping.

It's easy, falling into the old routines. When a vamp gets in a lucky kick and sends Faith sprawling backwards, Buffy's sure hand hooks under her elbow and swings her around so her stake lands in the surprised vamp's chest. Buffy then sends her opponent flying toward Faith and the dark slayer rams her stake in his back, leaving a cloud behind. The two exchange a satisfied smile and stop for ribs on the way home. It feels almost like when Faith first came to Sunnydale. They don't talk about themselves. There's too many places that conversation could lead. Instead they talk about the kills, the weather, the cheap matching sweat suits they wear (bought on clearance from Wal-Mart with some cash from Giles). But when they get back to the motel, it's like whatever connects them turns off. They fall into silence and the room gets thicker and thicker with tension while they race to see who can fall asleep faster.

XXXXX

Giles tells them the council have been sniffing around in Sunnydale. By now, they realize that the slayers are together and it's not safe for either of them to come back yet. They move to another motel and when Angel comes to check on them, Faith manages a strained smile and tells him everything's fine. When he leaves, Buffy walks him out.

Alone in the room, Faith smoothes her palms over her arms and looks at herself in the mirror. Her face is drawn and pale, her torso too thin under the black tank top. She doesn't look like herself, whatever that means now. Maybe this is the new Faith, the one who doesn't try to kill people or ruin their lives. She pushes her wild hair back and manages to meet her own eyes for a few seconds before she looks away. She makes herself sick, no wonder Buffy can hardly stand to speak to her.

"Hey," Buffy's quiet voice precedes her to the small bathroom. "You wanna go out?"

"Patrolling?" Faith nods, "Sure."

The blonde gives her the barest hint of a smile. "No, I mean for fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah, you remember fun, Faith?" Buffy blanches as the words fall from her lips. They both remember the kind of fun Faith's had recently. Some of it in her own body, some of it not. Buffy clears her throat. "So?"

"Yeah," Faith agrees, not caring where they're going. It's enough that Buffy asked.

XXXXX

They sit in a seedy bar, sucking down nachos and Coronas. "Can't believe we didn't get carded." Buffy mutters happily, shoving a lime down the neck of her bottle. She attributes it to the tightness of their jeans and the shared tube of mascara residing in her pocket.

Faith's fingernails trace the perspiration on her bottle. "If the cops show, pretty sure a couple of minors getting served is the last thing they'll be worried about."

Buffy nods, her gaze fixed on the few people dancing in the darkest corner of the bar. "How old are you anyway?" She asks distractedly.

Faith doesn't answer for a moment, but when the other slayer looks back at her she picks up her beer. "Seventeen," She answers, raising it to her lips.

Buffy blinks, surprised. "So you were…"

"Just turned sixteen when I moved to SunnyD." She confirms as she plops her empty bottle back on the bar.

Faith signals for another beer. She doesn't notice when Buffy's composure falters.

XXXXX

On their 12th day in LA, Giles tells them to head for Sunnydale. They go out for one last slay and everything goes normally for a while. Typically, they find their hardest kill when they're almost back at the motel. The demon at first seems like it's going to be an easy kill. It's only as tall as Buffy, covered in leathery skin and seemingly random patches of hair. Faith's fighting him when she catches Buffy's signal from behind the demon's shoulder. She's got her stake out so Faith kicks him in her general direction. The thing manages to turn as he stumbles, so he's facing the blonde slayer.

"Buffy!" Faith shouts in warning, when she sees a sharp spike spring from the demon's arm. The blonde twists, ducking to avoid the long, thin appendage, but it slices through her jacket and into her back, spearing the skin over her shoulder blade. She cries out and as she falls to her knees, the demon tears his arm backward, ripping away a chunk of her clothing and flesh.

Rage cuts through Faith as she leaps on the thing's back. It flails desperately as her fingers dig into the skin under its chin. If she had a moment to process, she might be afraid of the all consuming anger rolling through her body. But there's only the smell of Buffy's blood in the damp night air and the tension in the demon's body as she plants her knees in his back and yanks his face backward with all her might. His neck breaks and the demon's body disintegrates. Faith drops, catching herself in a crouch. Buffy's hunched over, watching Faith with no small amount of concern, even as she contorts herself to apply pressure to her own back. The fury drains from Faith as fast as it appeared. She drops to her knees next to her sister slayer, replacing Buffy's bloody palm with her own grimy hand. "You okay, B?" She asks with more gentleness than someone who can break necks with her bare hands should be capable of.

"Yeah," Buffy winces as Faith presses into her back.

"You need a hospital?" She's got no idea how she can bring the blonde into one, given that she's on the LAPD's most wanted.

"No," Buffy protests immediately. "It's fine."

Faith's uncertain but she's not going to argue when Buffy's set her jaw in that stubborn way and she's already trying to climb to her feet. They walk home as quickly as they can with Faith trying to keep her from bleeding too much. In the motel, Buffy tries to take her own jacket off and Faith steps in, keeping her movements slow and unthreatening. They've spent 24 hours a day together for almost two weeks, but this is the closest contact they've had. She imagines Buffy's eager to keep it that way.

Buffy lets her hands drop, standing in silence as Faith carefully slides the jacket off. The t-shirt is a lost cause so the dark slayer rips it, leaving two pieces that fall to the floor. They don't have antiseptic so she collects soap and water in the room's battered old ice bucket. Her fingers drag the hot washcloth against Buffy's tender back, wiping gently at the caked blood on the wound. It's red and raw but already knitting closed.

As Faith's hands tentatively make contact with her back, Buffy fights to keep still. She's been trying her best to give the other slayer a fair shot. But she can't help fixating on what exactly those hands have done. Faith's hands shot a poisoned arrow into Angel's back. They murdered innocent people, tied her mother up, chained Buffy to a wall, caught hers and displaced her from her body. Faith's hands made fists and pummeled Buffy, slayer against slayer in a fight neither of them was going to win.

But now they glide up her spine with a tenderness Buffy's never known Faith could be capable of. She's vulnerable like this, sore and bleeding, and Faith's treating her with kid gloves. She's surprised by the delicateness of Faith's touch. Her hands are soft and small, the pads of her fingers just barely ghosting across Buffy's skin. When Faith's finished tending to her wound, her fingers linger, sliding upward. They spread across her shoulder and then one careful, slow thumb traces the nape of Buffy's neck. Her first reaction is to tense, to prepare herself to fight off an inevitable attack. But she keeps still, knowing that Faith's testing her.

When Buffy doesn't flinch, Faith's chest swells with relief. As inconceivable as it seems, maybe she can make it right again. Buffy hasn't pulled away, so she starts working out the knots in the other slayer's back, keeping her touch slow and careful. She's never touched the blonde slayer so intimately and she knows enough to recognize it for the offer of trust that it is. She feels almost overcome by it.

As the other girl massages out her tension, Buffy finds herself relaxing. It starts to seem possible, this new relationship they're trying to form. It could be blood loss and slayer hormones talking, but it seems so simple all of the sudden. Those hands, Faith's beautiful, dangerous hands that have caused so much damage, are capable of repair. They can move over her flesh and make her feel good. Maybe Buffy and Faith can start over too. Buffy reaches behind her, her fingers bumping into the other girl's leg clumsily.

"Sorry," Faith mumbles, already dropping her hands to her sides. Tears have collected in her eyes and she brushes them away impatiently, feeling stupid. Maybe she's misjudged the situation.

"It's okay." Buffy turns to look at her and manages a tiny smile. "Thanks." Faith's still kneeling behind her and their faces are centimeters apart.

She shrugs off the gratitude, unused to pleasantries from Buffy. The drone of the TV next door fades into the background as their eyes meet. Buffy's hazel eyes have always been so expressive and Faith wants to look away, afraid to read her thoughts there. But Buffy's just gazing steadily back at her, her look as relaxed as her bowed shoulders and her easy, soft, upturned lips.

Their breathing seems to echo in the space between them. The blonde's fingers bridge the miniscule distance between them and just barely dust across her cheek. Only once has she ever touched Faith with this kind of tenderness. She'd been unconscious then, her life nearly snuffed out by Buffy's hand. The girl looking back at her now is awake, if still frail and bruised. She's made even more mistakes and in some ways these are the most unforgiveable. But for the first time, Buffy sees the need in her eyes, the fear and regret, swimming behind the tears. A line starts to form in Buffy's mind, between the slayer who bruised her face and her heart and the girl who kneels before her on the bed, watching her through wide, frightened eyes. Unconsciously, Faith leans into the touch, her spine curling like a neglected cat, greeting its master after a long separation. In a way it's not untrue. She's a stray who followed a pretty girl home, looking for a place to belong. Buffy's tried to turn her away and for a time she succeeded but as her gentle fingers smooth Faith's hair behind her ear, she's opening the door.

It's never been their way to use words. A slayer's body is made to be kinetic. They use their fists to relay their anger and their pain. The swaying of their hips on the dance floor, the grasping of their fingers and the friction of their palms, celebrate their conquests and their kills. Words can lie, but their bodies never do. The pads of her fingers sweeping down the delicate shell of Faith's ear say it's okay, you can come in now, you can belong here. Faith's offenses fall away one by one until it's just the two of them. Just Buffy and Faith, whose eyes flutter closed as one stubborn tear slips free, butting against Buffy's thumb.

Tentatively, Faith's hand reaches to cover hers and Buffy thinks she understands now, what Giles meant in the diner. She's not so oblivious as she lets on. She knows there's a sliver of truth in each of Faith's innuendos. She knows what it means when a girl wants to go to Homecoming with you, when she borrows your body and you get it back free of all the pent up sexual frustration you left it with. What she didn't understand was the motivation behind all of it, the loneliness and the longing fueling every eyebrow waggle and crude remark.

Faith's still pressing Buffy's palm to her face. When she turns her face just a fraction, her lips brush Buffy's wrist. She doesn't have to second guess herself, to wonder if she's crossing a line, because Buffy's other hand reaches for her, cupping her face and pulling her down so their lips meet.

It's like being shredded. All her anger and jealousy strip away from her, then the self-loathing, the guilt and shame… There is only the great yawning chasm of need she's tried to fill over the years. It's as terrifying as it is exhilarating. She wants to pull away. She wants to press closer, crawl inside Buffy's arms and let her fill in the gaps.

Buffy obliges this unspoken, barely thought desire, as her hand moves down Faith's back and pulls her closer. They lie on the bed and Faith feels like she's floating away. Only Buffy's mouth, only Buffy's hands holding her keep her from coming apart. She's still keyed up from slaying. She can't process this. Can't handle this right now, whatever this is.

"I can't," She gasps, when Buffy's hands begin fumbling at drawstrings and t-shirt bottoms.

"You can." The blonde says, her voice so sure. "Faith, we can."

Faith's shaking as she nods, her fingers mimicking Buffy's movements. It's like her body is operating without her; her mind's still chaotic. She doesn't understand why it's happening, now, when she used to be better. She used to be worthy of this and Buffy didn't notice her or care. And now she's lost. She's bad and she's got too much blood on her hands to deserve to get anything she wants, let alone this.

When they're both naked, Faith's hands turn every stroke of Buffy's skin into an apology she's not allowed to say out loud. She kneads her confession into Buffy's body, her mouth and her touch addressing every injury and insult. Buffy quivers in her arms. They're both so raw, so tired and tender from the last few days. It feels almost like her heart's breaking as they move together. The steps leading up to this one are so convoluted it's hard for Faith to understand how they've arrived here. But all that really matters in this moment is that they have. When Buffy finally comes, she's clutching her close, and Faith feels free for the first time in as long as she can remember.

Buffy's hands are between her legs, sliding against her aching, wet sex. She trembles, gasping for air, whispering against Buffy's throat, B yes yes baby please oh oh there god yes Buffy please. Faith's never known how to let go and let someone else have control over her. But she clings to Buffy, letting her guide her to climax. She shudders against the blonde's hand and Buffy's lips are on her neck, repeating her name, saying, yes Faith that's it yes Faith Faith.

Afterward, they lay entwined in the damp sheets. Buffy's fingers touch her back, gentle and persistent. She knows things aren't completely settled between them. She's fallen too far down to climb back up so quickly. But she understands the gift she's been given. It's not what she expected, but Buffy's forgiving her with every slide of her thumb across Faith's back, every dip of her lips against Faith's collar bone. Faith's starting to believe that after everything she's done, she can have a second shot.

"Sunnydale tomorrow." Buffy says softly.

"Yeah."

"It'll be different this time." Buffy promises, her fingers tracing patterns on Faith's back.

She touches Buffy's chest, feels her pulse slowing and falling into rhythm with her own. "I know." She says. And she means it.